A Tiger that Roared and Routed!

The 22 Immutable Laws of Branding (A book by Al Ries and Laura Ries) stresses the importance of being first in the market. And first he was in giving the Indian team its true Indianness by dragging the Indian team out of the alleys of regionalism and factionalism. He was also first in snatching an overseas match and series victory for the country.

Yes you guessed it right, I am talking about Tiger Pataudi.

With so many firsts he remained an unparalleled character among his peers and juniors.

Difficulties are meant to rouse not to raze and Tiger Pataudi proved it right with his sheer diligence and dedication. Any lily-livered person would have chickned out of the game of the life but he remained and resisted.

 It was seriously no fun to face the speed of Griffiths and Halls with all body parts responding well and when it came to facing them minus one eye, it must have been a very daunting experience. But the indomitable zeal and a valiant heart compensated for the loss of one eye and he fashioned many golden chapters for himself and for India.

The Indian Cricket, which has been leveled several times with charges of nepotism and regionalism, can take a leaf out of Tiger’s book, who only gave weight to the welfare of Indian cricket and valued only meritocracy during his tenure as captain. Even if he belonged to the alleys of aristocracy, he very meticulously sewed the talent of middle class in the fabric of Indian cricket. The fruits of his efforts are being savored by Indian cricket today which has its stars from middle class families.

It was not only cricket that he played a part in but it was life in general as well that witnessed the magnanimity of his. Being a Nawab of Pataudi he ensured that the patchwork of Hindu-Muslim unity doesn’t get a beating in the area even in the worst of phases of religious upheaval in the country. He himself used to take part in Ramlila.  And this only goes to show that he could sense the subtlety and nuances of being human to a tee.

Now that he is enjoying an eternal sleep, his roar will continue to echo in the universe infinitely to make us remember that the tiger had sometime travelled on this earth and tried to make it a better place for   all those people whose lives he touched in person or otherwise!

Once Upon a Time

Once upon a time, a human being decided to make a product. He collected all the materials necessary to create the product and started putting the materials in a combination so that it gets a form…a shape.

When the product was being created, it was extremely happy seeing every part of its coming together to give it a form.

Even if it was incomplete, it could sense the diligent efforts of its creator to make it complete. The painstaking concentration of its creator ensured that it will become a great product and will be a proud member of the pantheon of products that has helped human beings achieve their goals of life: be it ordinary or extraordinary.

By and by, the bits of its body were being put together and it was dreaming of a life that would be extremely useful for the mankind. It had dreams of getting into the history books for serving the mankind in the best way possible.

Towards the completion of its body, it felt a palpitation of something being weaved into its body. So, I have a heart now as well that can throb: thought the product.

The product was put in a case and was carried out of its workshop.

Now the product was really happy to have got a complete body and that too with a heart! Though, it was still clueless about its use.

 Anyways, it was hoping to reach its destination quickly so that it can get to know about its use and be satisfied that it served the mankind with its best of abilities.

Suddenly, the case was put down.  “Oh! My destination has arrived. Now my creator will get me out of the case and then the whole world will know about me. And I will go down in to the history books as the best of all time products that the mankind has ever experienced. Yippee!!! I will be taught about in Management Schools in Product Development Classes and one day I will emerge as an indomitable brand. I will be talked about among the best brains of marketing world, around the globe.  And I will have a long life!” dreamt the product.

This dream got broken by the increasing heartbeat (by the passing of every second) of its newly designed heart.

 What is it happening to me? My heartbeats seem to be pacing more than normal. It wanted to yell to its master for help. It cried: O! My creator, please help me get rid of this heavy heartbeat.

But its creator didn’t listen because he wasn’t there to listen. And its heart exploded!

And with its heart, exploded the emotions of compassion, kindness, and humanity on the earth. Instead of it becoming a source of happiness for mankind, it became a source of havoc to the mankind.

It was created as a bomb!

Against its wish, it was designed to rob the mankind of its peace and its dreams.

It cried out aloud and some part of humanity got silenced forever.

I love to love you

Image Courtesy: savingmyrelationship.org

My life was full of questions when I happened to find you. Your warmth, smile, and care touched me and absolved me of the pesky questions of life. You personified all the answers that I needed.

My life was full of confusion when I happened to meet you. Your reason, clarity, and vision helped me see through the clutter of confusion. You embodied all the intelligence that I needed.

My life was full of dejection when I happened to find you. Your magical words and gestures fashioned a pristine smile for my lips and dejection got into smithereens. You testified for all the hope that I needed.

My life was full of void when I happened to meet you.  Your presence and your essence filled that void and made me a person imbued with life. You rectified all errors in me and made me right.

My life was full of noise when I happened to find you. The tranquility of your eyes vanquished the noise of my life and weaved an utter calmness for my soul. You pacified all commotion by giving me your every emotion.

My life was full of sorrow when I happened to meet you. The bliss of your belief in life defeated the sorrow of my life. You showed that there is always a tomorrow that will expunge the sorrow. You painted a future for me that was full of rapture.

Can I do anything less than trying to love you? I love to live you, I love to love you.

R.I.P My Dream!

Image Courtesy: mindbodysmile.com

One day, as usual, I was running to earn my bread and suddenly something pricked one of my legs. I was in hurry, so neglected that prick. I kept on running. I Went to my work place and was busy there the whole day. Amid the din of livelihood, the mind couldn’t feel the pain of the prick the whole day. As usual, the day ended with its routine adjectives and I once again prepared myself to be a part of the restless throng in search of rest after a tiring day.

I got pushed by the power of the multitude to my house.

 I was tired to the core and fell flat on my bed with a thud. The numbness of fatigue kept me under its thrall for half an hour. When I got emancipated from the serfdom of fatigue, the sound of pain in my leg, knocked on the doors of my mind. I lifted my leg and when I looked the sole of my leg, I was stunned!

It was a piece of my dream that had pierced my sole.

 In the frantic race of life, I couldn’t give heed to the delicate dream of mine. And when it slipped from my mind and got into smithereens, I was so engrossed in the commotion of mundane life that I couldn’t hear the cries of my dream. It fell and got mutilated.

I stood up from the bed and ran as fast as I could in the direction of the busy square. Now it was quiet and away from the hustle bustle of mornings. I started looking for the other parts of my dream. Suddenly, my eyeballs noticed the bruised body of my dream. It was trampled badly by the legs of livelihood.

I lifted it on my palms, it was hardly breathing. However I tried to resuscitate life into it, I failed and my dream breathed its last before my eyes. It didn’t have any grievances from me that why I didn’t care for it? It just silently passed away, without blaming me.

I started sobbing but it didn’t care for my tears and evaporated in the sky: from where it had come. I couldn’t help it see the days of youth, my dream died young. R.I.P my dream!

God of Monetary Things!

What is God? Is it a feeling or an emotion? Perhaps it is both. God is alive as long as we believe it to be alive. It is alive as long as we wish it to be alive. And it is alive in those places where we believe it to be alive.

Once we stop believing, God stops to reside in those places. What remains is only a stationary stone.

But as long as we believe in God, there is a crowd around temples. And this crowd is mad to get a glimpse of their beloved God. Serpentine lines before a particular temple is proof that the God of that temple is real and all prayers are heard.

People frazzled with their daily situations seek the refuge of God to get reprieve from those situations.

But their problem only increases when brokers of God (i.e. Pujaris of Temples) trap them and exact several notes of rupees in the name of various pujas.  The real essence of God and devotion gets a beating when innocent devotees of God are cheated.

If God is sold and bought then the meaning of God dies. What remains is a rotten ritual!

Sisters: Fountainhead of love and life

Image Courtesy: Google

Care and affection has personified in the shape of sisters. Whether they are elder or younger, the longing for their brothers refuge to recede. The unqualified and unconditional warmth that they proffer to their brothers is unparalleled in terms of relationships.

Irrespective of age, sisters understand and fulfill their responsibility to a tee. Even if she is a toddler of five or a dodderer of sixty, the level of love remains the same in her heart for her brother.  Despite making  several relationships in her journey of life -- such as being a wife to someone, being a sister or daughter-in-law to someone-- she never forgets that she is also a sister of someone and her love remains undivided and unscathed for her brother.

They are as delicate as the petals of a flower but will support you in your need of hour with toughness of a rock. They are like melodious note of a flute but will roar like a cloud when you are in a danger and save you. The fortitude and valor of sisters make feminine emotions sublime and on many occasions the hollow hubris of masculinity seems dwarf before them. Because women are sisters also, the womanhood gets a different angle of fondness that is as limitless as the bosom of the sky. 

The purity of care and sincerity of affection makes the role of a sister inimitable in a life of a brother. A sister never stops to be a sister even if a brother forgets to be a brother. And that is the beauty of being a sister.

People are lucky who have sisters because they can experience the love that is divine and care that is pure. The female feticide in our country makes many brothers bereft of this wonderful feeling of being in a cozy and lovely company of a sister. I hope some sense prevails on the psyche of Indian population and a day comes when the birth of a sister is not considered a curse in this country.

Happy Rakshabandhan!!!!!

I Am Sorry!

Image Courtesy: Google

I still have warmth of your smile (that once you gave me as a gift for becoming your friend) stashed away in closet of my heart. Today, when you seem aloof and away, I am trying hard to keep that warmth warm, as the coldness of time seems to have indomitable will to trounce me.

But I will fight the time tooth and nail and save the warmth at any cost.

I still have shimmer of your eyes frozen in my eyes that you gave me as assurance that you will never move away from my life. Now when you seem upset and angry with me, the storm of tears is wickedly smiling that they will wipe that shimmer off my eyes.

But I will fight the tears with every ounce of energy in my body to save the shimmer of your eyes etched in my eyes. Even if I need to cry badly, I will cry from my heart and shed drops of blood but will never allow tears to beat me.

I still have aroma of your personality ensconced in my soul. The stench of demonic episodes of life is trying hard to wear off the fragrance of your being.

But I will fight till my last breath to preserve the passion of your personality and delight of your demeanor that reside cozily in my soul and will give those episodes a tough fight.

If at any point in time you have been forced to doubt my sincerity to shield your feelings and memories, then it must have been because of any shortcomings of mine. And I am really sorry for that!

The Cage!

Image Courtesy: Google

It is a closed box with sliding doors that opens at regular intervals. It devours people in its belly and digests the fatigue and sweat of them and leaves the people squeezed like a mangle machine does. Here I am talking about the coaches of a metro train.

On a casual look, people hanging to the rods look like monkeys hanging to the rods in a cage. Packed to capacity, bodies get smashed to maximum limit. It is a miracle that you come out of it without dying of suffocation. When you get pressed heavily by other bodies, for a moment the breath seems to be deceiving you, but with grace of heavenly tolerance levels that Indians develop genetically, they resist these moments bravely. Gradually, the tough times of hard pressings pass by and a bit of space gets created when the train moves ahead.

Though the journey is far from a lovely experience, there seems hardly any grievance on the faces of commuters for a lack of comfortable journey. They are so deeply embattled with other problems that these perennial pushing and shoving have stopped to attract any attention. Like a flock of sheep they mount and alight the coaches, hardly ever thinking that they deserve a comfortable journey.

Any desire for improvement in the situation seems to have died down, though it is a fact that they are the same people who brought about a sea-change in the democratic horizon by forcing a long reigning party to abdicate the throne.

Warts and all, it is inhuman to see humans suffer from a plight that would give even animals a shudder down their spine.

But, with every chugging of the metro trains, life of the common person moves ahead as well and forgetting the wrestling of the morning he/she gets ready to wrestle again in the evening with the eagerness to reach home and meet that little daughter who is waiting for the father to bring chocolates and that stubborn son who wants only his mother to feed him.

MAHANAYAK UTTAM KUMAR

Image Courtesy: Google

The life of luxury and decadence is characteristic of film stars. But when their existence gets adorned with utmost respect from their fans, their acting gets real and they become immortal and sublime.

Such is the case with the legend of Indian Cinema: Uttam Kumar. (I don’t want to categorize the Indian cinema with the tinge of regionalism such as Kollywood, Tollywood or Bollywood for that matter, India is one and for that very reason its cinematic endevours should be recognized as only Indian not Bengali, Tamil, Kannanda, Telugu or Hindi.)

In Kolkata, a metro station has been named after him.  The portraits and photographs of his, deck up the walls of the station. Every time, I see those pictures a sense of awe wraps me up. Mind you, I have hardly seen more than a film of his (and that is ‘Amanush’ in Hindi) and despite that his aura leaps out of the walls and catches me with utter charisma of its. His panache seems divine, his effect magical.

Every expression of his face emanates serenity and sincerity of his existence. His eyes, his lips, his cheeks, his forehead work in a synchronization to create a bewitching appeal.

The debonair, suave and uber-simple Uttam weaves a halo that seems enigmatically enchanting. You are certain to get the influence of a hangover after visiting the station.

No wonder he has been given the appellation of Mahanayak (The Great Hero). If he can cast a spell from his inanimate pictures, what used to happen when he used to come across his fans in blood and flesh! Indeed he is the great hero, because he speaks with his fans even with mute photographs of his.

Memories of You…

Image Courtsey: Google

Last night I was going through the pictures of the past and suddenly eyes started to well up and heart got soggy.

The memories of the past started dancing unbidden before my eyes. The gossips done with you, the excursions taken out with you, the smiles shared with you, and the life lighted with you are all torturing my mind. I feel totally unable to stop the stream of salt emanating from my eyes.

I try to reason with all rationality that life has to move on, yet I seriously yearn to revisit the past that always seemed perfect with you.

I miss the fun, the fights, the wrongs, the rights that I experienced with you. I miss your existence around me; I miss your fragrance that used to surround me.

I never knew that I would feel so lonely without you when I had the luxury of your proximity. I never knew that I would feel so lowly without you when I had the luxury of your vicinity.

Feel very horrible that I can never experience the life again that I could with you in the past; I guess I will have only memories of you till the breath that is the last.

No doubt that I am thankful to God that he showered upon me your presence but I won’t like to conceal my grief that why he made your presence only ephemeral in my life.

I know the world out there will say grow up! But this time I want to be an adamant child – who is sans reason. I want to be stubborn for getting those days back from the hands of time.

I might sound stupid and unreasonable, but all devotees got blessings of their Gods when they got called insane!

That is why I cried…

Image Courtesy: Google

I know things have changed and I can never experience the past again,

And that is why I cried.

I know the Sun has set and I can never experience the day again,

And that is why I cried.

I know the flowers have wilted and I can never experience the same fragrance again,

And that is why I cried.

I know the leaves have fallen and I can never experience the same glorious tree again,

And that is why I cried.

I know the smiles have evaporated and I can never experience the same happiness again,

And that is why I cried.

Encore—No More!

Image Courtesy: Google

                                                          

Once again the guffaw of cruelty reverberated in Mumbai and silent became many smiles. Blood that is meant to paint life, painted roads. Innovations that are meant to save lives, primarily, snatched lives. 

Once again there is clamor that there is nothing to panic, so what that some people had to sleep forever; so what that some eyes will never see the light of the Sun again? We must not panic is the assurance.

Blasts after blasts, we have gone numb. It doesn’t matter to lose few more lives in blasts anymore. And that is why; we are lethargic in taking any action to protect the lives of the nation.

We have gone so numb that it has stopped to matter whether a culprit is punished or not. We have resigned everything to the will of the fate and act as an inanimate thing that is bereft of any reactionary powers.

Even if we try, we fail to create an impact.

If we don’t act as a responsible nation towards the threats that scare the existence of humanity, the history will remember us as a nation of weak minds.

Do we want to be remembered in a negative light by history? Surely not!

So, there should be no encore of the ghastly music of bombs that tears apart bodies and lives.

We must pledge to become voice for those who lost it in the attack and inform the mind of terrorism that we are prepared to stop any encore of its deadly dance!

Sycophancy: A form of art!

Art helps understand the proceedings of life in a manner that is deeper than our general viewpoints about life.  Art helps reincarnate situations from life and gives them a shape that human mind always desires for. Art is an escape from tumultuous ways of life and it has various forms: painting, dancing, singing...etc

You must be wondering how other different forms of art and sycophancy converges together. Look, as an escape from the rigorous demands of life to secure a job or to get a job done, sycophancy provides a subtle avenue that facilitates the process of a work.

Sycophancy has been practiced by human beings since eons and has been developed through ages to adapt to the changing times.

But alas! Despite all credentials to qualify as a stream of art, it is yet to be recognized as an art form. In India, it has flourished since the time of kings and queens and mainly sycophancy has been attached to the corridors of power.     

Sycophancy in India enjoys its place in esteemed quarters of politics, business, education, and sports. Despite enjoying the proximity to such distinguished sections of the society, I fail to understand that why it is still out of course curricula in India? The institute based on this subject should be floated. On the lines of IITs and IIMs, Indian Institute of Sycophancy (IIS) should get approval from our HRD ministry.

 This way the progress of the sycophancy as an art can be documented and the coming    generations can benefit a lot from past experiences. The preserved documents can reduce the amount of mental exercise to a great deal for future wannabe sycophants.

They will just have to apply the theories to derive a desired result for a given situation. And sycophancy as a stream will also flourish like other fields of academics. And equipped with scientific training in sycophancy, India will produce world class sycophants who will be unmatchable in their skills.

In the beginning any attempt to organize the valuable knowledge of sycophancy, in terms of an educational tool, will face opposition as other revolutionary doctrines of the world had to face. But a resolute stand on the part of the practicing sycophants of India can ensure that a strong educational citadel is built through legal ways and the IIS sees the light of the day as a proof of indelible existence of sycophants in this world.

Long live sycophancy!

Namaste Sir … Madam

When we enter the swanky malls and supermarkets, we get smitten by the razzmatazz of the environment. We splurge, we dine, and we have all sorts of fun that the money can buy and these malls can offer. We return with all material happiness bought by monetary elements.

When we return home, we indulge ourselves in the colors and odors of products bought. But not even by mistake we tend to indulge in thinking about the person who had greeted us by saying: Namaste Sir/Madam at the mall while we were entering.

( You might argue, is it necessary to think about that person? Well, I am not here to preach anything as to what is right or wrong, I am here just explaining how I feel.)

Greeting is an essential part of services marketing and this way customers feel more valued than without it. But often I have felt that when they greet us they lack the real essence of greeting a guest, which is greeting with happiness. And why is it?

I feel that they don’t feel connected to the materialistic opulence that the malls represent. Despite being an integral part of retail sector, they seem aloof from the prosperity that the sector churns out.

They seem completely unaffected by the retail boom in the country. And perhaps this is the reason that when they greet the customers they feel their lips strained to smile freely. And when they smile after an effort, it is bereft of warmth of a smile.

I don’t know, but I feel pain in their smile for being left behind in the race of the economy and for being only a sightseer of the progress of the country.

I understand everything is not possible for everybody to get, but I also understand how it feels to be so close to the prosperity but at the same time to be so far from it.  There should be efforts, on the part of the economy, to give a slice of economic happiness (that is balanced and reasonable in terms of social framework) to these greeters as well. So that when they greet they feel the warmth of greeting themselves as well.

P.S: This is entirely how I have felt about the situation, you might have experienced exact opposite situations with janitors of malls. And the article is restricted to and based only on my observation about the situation.

Feeling lonely lonely!

Image Courtesy: anshusinha5.blogspot.com

Missing those days when I was with you, missing those moments that I spent with you. Without you there is very few that interests me, there is hardly any hue that attracts me.

I feel my heart ruffled and eyes stifled. When I want to feel something, I find my heart- throb has gone numb and when I want to speak something, I find my eyes have gone dumb.

My mornings are eclipsed with the absence of yours and evenings are bereft of fragrance of yours. I feel as if marooned on an island where my only accompany is the distant hope of meeting with you again.

Today, when I had been to the garden, the flowers that once used to seem luscious, seemed languishing and the drops of dew that used to seem the drops of diamonds, seemed drops of tears -- shed from my heart.

The chirping of birds that once used to seem melody, seemed maddening with surly din. Looking at the moon, which used to seem fun, seemed utter sin.

Since when you have left, the sky is blanketed with cloud and the Sun is coiled in the gloom of it. Suddenly, the drops lurking in the lap of clouds started saying adieu and the existence of clouds were nowhere. When drops and clouds parted ways the Sun smiled with a villainous grin. I don’t know but I felt bad that clouds and drops had to part their ways.

I had never felt this way before!

Everything passes by in this world and these moments shall also, but will I meet you again? I want to keep my hopes alive so that I can live to meet you again!