Echoes of Home: Nostalgia and Family Ties in Delhi #nostalgiaDelhi

Seated outside my Delhi flat, the pages of Haruki Murakami's "Norwegian Wood" held me captive in a literary realm. The enchanting fragrance of blooming Saptaparni, the Chatim flower, surrounded me, emanating from the tree standing majestically in front of my abode. As I immersed myself in the novel's portrayal of Watnabe's struggles in Japan, the words wove a spell, merging seamlessly with the nostalgic ambiance.

The subtle perfume of the Chatim flower became a bridge to bygone days, intertwining with the book's narrative and casting a magical aura. With each page turned, the fragrance of the Saptaparni blossoms blended with the protagonist's journey, creating a sensory symphony that transported me to a different time and place. The winter sun, gentle and comforting, soaked the surroundings in a warm glow, enhancing the tapestry of nostalgia and literary enchantment.

Closing my eyes, I surrendered to the embrace of the winter sun and the interplay of fragrances, allowing the amalgamation of Murakami's prose, the Chatim's aroma, and the memories of Delhi to weave a tapestry of sensory delight. In that moment, the convergence of literature, nature, and nostalgia became a sanctuary, where the lines between fiction and reality blurred, and the essence of each word lingered in the air like the sweet fragrance of a cherished memory.

Nestled within the vibrant heart of Delhi, my ground-floor flat holds a profound connection to cherished memories and enduring family ties. The complex, not just a residential space but a communal haven, exudes a familial ambiance that resonates with shared experiences and the comforting presence of loved ones. The kinship felt within the complex, where my parents spent their last days, is palpable, creating an atmosphere akin to that of a big, extended family.

The enduring spirit of family is further strengthened by the choice of my two younger brothers and their families to make their homes within the same complex. This interwoven familial tapestry is particularly evident when I step into my ground-floor flat, as there is an immediate sense of belonging and reassurance knowing that my near and dear ones are just a stone's throw away. It's as if the spirit of my parents continues to watch over us, their presence felt in every corner of the familiar abode.

The ground-floor location not only offers convenience but also a profound sense of security. The proximity of loved ones serves as a constant reminder of the enduring power of family ties. The evenings unfold as a delight, with leisurely walks in the adjoining DDA sports area becoming a rejuvenating ritual for both body and soul. These shared moments not only strengthen familial bonds but also create memories filled with laughter, shared stories, and a deep sense of togetherness.

Adding an extra layer of enchantment to this familial tapestry is the presence of the Saptaparni tree just outside my flat. Known as Chatim in Bengali, this tree, with its distinctive seven leaves, stands as a living testament to continuity. As autumn graces the city, the tree bursts into bloom, filling the air with an irresistible fragrance that acts as a portal to a bygone era. The subtle perfume of the Saptaparni blossoms becomes a nostalgic reminder of a time when Delhi's roads were adorned with a diverse array of fragrant trees, contributing to the city's unique charm and character.

In the presence of the Devil's tree, I am transported to the Delhi of yesteryears, vividly recalling the bustling streets, the vibrant hues of Gulmohar blooms, and the sweet taste of Jamun picked straight from the roadside trees. Each scent, each memory, is interwoven with the very fabric of the city. The Saptaparni tree, with its seven leaves standing proudly, becomes a symbol of continuity, a witness to the changing seasons and the evolving cityscape.

The Saptaparni Chronicles unfold with every breeze, carrying with it the whispers of nostalgia and the fragrance of a city that has grown and changed yet retains the essence of its roots. In the seven leaves of the Chatim, I find not just a tree but a living testament to the enduring spirit of Delhi and the cherished memories it holds. Each visit to my flat in this complex becomes a journey into the past and a celebration of the present, weaving together the threads of family, memories, and the timeless beauty of nature.

"Familial tapestry woven with memories, the heart of Delhi embraces us with love and the sweet scent of Saptaparni blossoms. 🏡🌳 #DelhiNostalgia"

Astral Echoes :" A Dance Across Bodies and Time"

I was immersed in the Rajasthani folk dance at Virasat in Udaipur when a foreigner caught my attention. He stared at me, smiled, and waved after the Bhawai dance by Vijaylakshmi Ameta. Intrigued, I was perplexed when he and his wife, Esther, approached me during the audience-invited dance.

As we exchanged introductions, Helmut's conversation suggested a familiarity that left me puzzled. I questioned if we had met before. He chuckled, recalling our encounter in Darjeeling back in 2014 at Hotel Shangrila, where we supposedly conversed on astral travel and Lobsang Rampa's books, especially the book "The Rampa Story".

Doubtful, I remembered a different foreigner from that trip, and he clarified that I knew him as Herbert during his previous visit. He explained that then he was seriously sick with kidney trouble, and during that time, he visited a Tibetan monastery seeking a cure from a monk with astral travel abilities.

 Astonished, I inquired about his approach to Esther and the circumstances of the transition.

“ Yes, the head Llma had the power of astral travel.”

“I remember that's how we came to discuss Lobsang Rampa who left his old body and by astral travel got into a freshly dead body.”

Helmut laughed and said,” Yes from that Llama I learnt about astral travel.Initially I did some trial travel with Esther looking after my body. I was on the lookout for a fresh dead body. I chanced upon the body of Helmut who died because of falling down from a height in Darjeeling. I entered his body.”

“What about his family?” I asked.

“He was a divorcee ,came to Darjeeling to buy peace of mind.”

“ How could Esther know that it was you? "

Helmut explained that both him and Esther had discussed that issue.They then decided that when he comes back in new body then she would ask him a set of questions about which he only had the answers.

“So when you returned as Helmut ,the body of Herbert was lying dead with Esther watching it?”

“Yes,we buried my old body in a graveyard in Darjeeling.”

After hearing the strange story, I wasn't in the mood to continue in Virasat. I needed some time alone to digest the concept of astral travel of the soul. Back in the hotel, I Googled to find any similar cases but unfortunately didn't find any. I was totally flummoxed by the issue; that guy had been discarding his old body as if he was changing into a new jacket, casually discarding the old one.

Note:

The story is inspired by "The Rampa Story" by Lobsang Rampa, renowned for "The Third Eye." Cyril Henry Hoskin, originating from Plympton, Devon, and the son of a plumber, adopted the name Lobsang Rampa.

In his 1960 book, "The Rampa Story," he asserted that a Tibetan monk's spirit inhabited his body following a fall from an apple tree in his home's garden. Hoskin consistently insisted that his books recounted true stories and vehemently refuted any allegations of a hoax.

Confluence of Wisdom: Dialogues Under the Banyan Tree

Samaranand and Bhootanand, two Sadhus of different spiritual paths, engaged in a discussion under the ancient banyan tree. Curiosity sparked in Samaranand's eyes as he asked Bhootanand, "What awaits those who follow your teachings after death?"

Bhootanand, with confidence, asserted, "They ascend to swarg, where they revel in the pleasures of life—beautiful women, gold, and luxurious living for male devotees, and similar joys for the females."

Amused, Samaranand chuckled and shared a tale. "Once, a devout follower of your sect reached swarg. To his surprise, he found his guruji on a cloud, with a beautiful girl seated on his lap. Congratulating his guru for the reward of his penance, the guruji angrily retorted that it was, in fact, the girl's punishment to be stuck on his lap eternally."

Samaranand's story left the air with a lingering laughter, but Bhootanand's face turned crimson with anger, livid at the unexpected twist. The banyan tree witnessed the clash of perspectives between the two Sadhus, each rooted in their beliefs.

As Samaranand concluded his tale, the air around the banyan tree echoed with laughter, but Bhootanand's anger intensified. In an attempt to diffuse the tension, Samaranand invoked wisdom from the Bhagavad Gita, saying, "Krishna teaches in the Gita that true devotion transcends material desires. It's not about the fleeting pleasures of swarg, but attaining a higher state of consciousness."

Bhootanand, determined to defend his beliefs, countered with a quote from the Bible, "As the scripture says, 'For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life.' Swarg, in our teachings, is the reward for a virtuous life lived in accordance with divine principles."

Undeterred, Samaranand responded with another verse from the Bhagavad Gita, "Krishna also teaches that attachment to material desires can be a hindrance to spiritual growth. True liberation lies in detachment and devotion to the divine."

Bhootanand, firmly rooted in his convictions, quoted from the Bible, "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. Our path emphasizes purity and adherence to moral principles as the way to salvation."

The dialogue between the two Sadhus became a philosophical exchange, blending the wisdom of the Bhagavad Gita and the Bible. The ancient banyan tree stood witness to the convergence of diverse spiritual perspectives, creating a mosaic of thought under its expansive branches.

Reflections of Time: A Journey Through Mirrored Memories

As I sat in the cozy hotel common space in Udaipur, my eyes caught a glimpse of the ornate mirror directly in front of me. The reflections of the ambient lights and the elegant decor created a mesmerizing scene. Suddenly, a figure seemed to step out from the mirror, surprising me.

The mysterious figure wore a knowing smile and began to speak, recounting tales from my childhood. "Ah, Tunu, your childhood friend," he said, as memories flooded my mind. It was as if this apparition knew the intricate details of my past.

He continued, "And what about Kutu? The mischievous adventures you two shared are etched in time." The memories of our escapades brought a nostalgic grin to my face. The figure then delved into my academic journey, mentioning Durga, my classmate who had ventured to Germany. It was surreal how this enigmatic presence knew about every chapter of my life.

"Rabin Babu, our English teacher," he exclaimed, "He sparked the flame of your love for English classics, didn't he?" The recollection of those literature-filled days flooded my thoughts. "And Pagla Guha, our math teacher," I replied, "I owe him a debt for making numbers less intimidating."

The figure continued to reminisce about our school days, weaving a tapestry of memories that transported me back in time. Rabin Babu's passion for literature, Pagla Guha's eccentric teaching methods, and the camaraderie with friends like Tunu and Kutu were all vividly recounted by this mysterious entity.

As the tales unfolded, I found myself engrossed in the narrative of my past. The figure seemed to embody the essence of those cherished moments, reminding me of the people who shaped my journey. The hotel common space transformed into a portal to the days of innocence and camaraderie, leaving me both amazed and grateful for the unexpected journey through my own history.

The character emerging from the mirror continued to gaze at me, prompting me to delve deeper into the treasure trove of memories. "Gole Market in New Delhi," I echoed, reminiscing about the vibrant days of our youth.

As I began to recount, a vivid image emerged of us spreading khatias on the open ground of the 95 block of chummeries. The nostalgia flooded in as I recalled the spirited games of "sweap" with Saroopa in front of our flat, number 14. The vibrant scenes unfolded in my mind—the laughter, the camaraderie, the simplicity of those carefree days.

I could almost taste the puffed rice my mother served, expertly mixed with mustard oil, onion, chili, and peanuts. It was a sensory time travel, each bite carrying the essence of those cherished moments.

Glancing at the mirror, I half-expected to see another character emerging, but only my reflection stared back. The character beside me looked remarkably familiar, resembling a younger version of myself at the age of 14. The mirrored memories had resurrected a vivid portrait of my past, inviting me to embrace the echoes of youth and the simplicity of bygone days.

The character from the mirror listened intently as I continued my trip down memory lane. The recollection brought forth a night when Sadhanmama, then working with The Statesman, shared my higher secondary result. The anticipation lingered until the next day when the newspaper vendor's loud proclamation filled the air, announcing the release of the results.

While others around me eagerly awaited their fate, I found myself peacefully asleep. When questioned about my apparent lack of eagerness, I responded with a mysterious smile, as if holding a secret. The memory unfolded like a scene from a bygone movie, and the character beside me seemed to absorb every nuance of that moment. The mirror reflected not just my image but the echoes of a time when the future was uncertain, and a mischievous smile concealed the triumphs of the night before.

Shadows of Memory: A Ghostly Odyssey

As my readers know, I have an assistant called Babulal. Long back he brought one diary which he got from a raddiwala.

The diary

,......

It was dark,I was sitting alone by the side of Ganges in my home town, Chandan Nagar. Hearing someone approaching,I turned back and found a man with many photo frames.

He was giving ghosts on hire,he asked whether I wanted one. He showed me the pictures framed,he informed me those are pictures of dead people and now available as ghosts. I asked him what use those ghosts will be for me. He informed me these ghosts can help me in finding things lost in the past through their ghost chain. Also he informed me that I can take one on rent. Simply I have to take the photo frame. I asked if I could keep it for a day to try. He agreed against 1000 rupees. I took the frame to our 150 years old ancestral house. My wife was out of station with her office colleagues so I thought it was the best time to use it. In the night I asked the ghost to find out my higher secondary certificate which I was not able to locate in my Delhi house. Next day it was on my table,faster than FedEx. I rang up the ghost renter and requested him to allow me to keep the frame for a week. I transferred money to him as rent for a week.

As I continued to explore the capabilities of the ghost, I began to realise its potential went beyond just finding lost items. The ghost seemed to have a unique connection to the past, allowing me glimpses into forgotten memories and untold stories. One day, while searching for my misplaced childhood journal, the ghost led me to a hidden room in my house that I never knew existed. Inside, I discovered a collection of old letters, photographs, and a dusty typewriter.

On the roller of the typewriter there was a typed letter which read,

“If you wish I can alter your past but your present will remain the same “

I knew immediately that the letter had been written by the ghost.

I thought deeply about the proposal. It was a kind of catch 22 situation, he can change some of my past events but the present will remain the same.So my financial wealth,my health,my family ,my position in society will remain the same even if he alters my past.

 Contemplating further, I considered the option of erasing painful memories, preserving only the pleasant ones. However, this meant forgetting dear ones who were no longer present—a compromise I couldn't accept. In the tapestry of aging, both sweet and painful memories are treasures; nostalgia, a means of mental transport. Erasing a significant part of my memory seemed akin to walking with vision limited to the illuminated, oblivious to the dark.

I returned the photo frame after keeping it for a week.

When I shared my experience with my friends then they in turn shared with others. I started getting phone call from various people like doctors, lawyers, businessman, accountants etc . May be they want to alter some of their dubious records !

The invisible helper

Title: "The Invisible Helper"

Once upon a time, in a cozy flat nestled in a quiet neighborhood, lived a man named Robert. Robert was known in his circle as a solitary soul, as he preferred the peace and solitude of his flat. However, something quite extraordinary was happening in Robert's life.

Robert had a peculiar sensation that an unseen presence inhabited his home. It wasn't a sinister or unsettling feeling; rather, it was comforting and mysterious. He felt as though someone was watching over him.

One day, he discovered the most astonishing aspect of this invisible helper. Robert had a medical condition that required him to take daily medication. Occasionally, he would forget, but every time he did, the medication mysteriously appeared right beside him, as if placed by an invisible hand. It was as though an ethereal caretaker was making sure he didn't miss his doses.

As time passed, more instances of the invisible helper's assistance became evident. When Robert awoke from slumber, disoriented and searching for his medication, it was always there, neatly placed on the nightstand. Even when he misplaced his almirah key, he would later find it exactly where he had forgotten it.

Robert began to share his experiences with his friends, hoping to understand the phenomenon. To his surprise, they dismissed it as temporary dementia and advised him to install CCTV cameras in his flat to put his imagination to rest.

Intrigued by the idea of unveiling the mystery, Robert decided to install CCTV cameras throughout his home. He placed them strategically to capture any movement and waited eagerly for the results.

As days turned into weeks, the footage revealed no visible intruder or evidence of his mysterious helper. Robert started to question his own sanity. Had he imagined the whole thing?

One evening, while reviewing the CCTV footage, he saw a peculiar occurrence. The footage showed Robert entering his flat, struggling to find his medication, and then, miraculously, the medication bottle lifted into the air and placed itself gently on the nightstand. It was as if an invisible hand had intervened.

Robert was awestruck. His invisible helper wasn't a product of his imagination but a real presence in his life. He realized that there was more to the world than met the eye, and he had a unique guardian watching over him.

With this newfound knowledge, Robert continued to live in his flat, embracing the enigmatic presence that had become an integral part of his life. The invisible helper remained by his side, a silent companion that ensured his well-being and added a touch of magic to his everyday life.

And so, the story of Robert and his invisible helper became a tale of mystery and wonder, reminding us that sometimes, the unexplained can be a source of comfort and fascination in our lives.

Haunting shadows of friendship

I got down at that small station from the narrow gauge train. I had boarded that train from Katwa. It was raining heavily , it was windy. The windows of the compartment were kept open so that the wind can blow through or otherwise the train might get toppled by the high velocity blast.The rain drenched wind was freely blowing through the compartment. I had come prepared with rain coat, but it was not a comfortable journey.

The gentleman sitting next to me also went on badgering me on all kinds of odd topics. "Do you believe in god?'" “Yes," i said. "Do you believe in ghost?'' " I really don't know.Some nights i get this strange feeling as though some one is there in my room,especially in weathers like this and open fields make me feel apprehensive.As though something bad is going to happen." That man sighed and said, " I was getting this strange eerie feeling so i started this conversation with you.I too believe in god and that nearness to HIM keeps me strong." He started chanting Gayatri Mantra. The dim light of the compartment with only two of us and the incessant rain , his talk about God and ghost started giving me goose pimples. I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep. He got the hint and did not disturb me any further.

 It was pitch dark and the rain was continuing,after getting down from the train i waited for sometime in the shed but there was no sign of rain getting eased. The small station had a tin shed as office cum booking counter. The diesel engine blew whistle and chugged out of the station,no other passenger had got down. I did not wait for the rain to stop, walked out of the station.

 There was only one solitary cycle rickshaw , i took that and directed him to take me to Bamun para. The road near the station was tar topped but after a while it was gravel road and quite slushy because of the rain. When i came to know that Ajit had come back from USA and was settled in his village house then i made this plan to visit him, at least i could escape from my routine mechanical life for a few days. We were out of touch for more than 30 years but then a mutual friend informed me about his coming back. 

When we were in college then i used to go to his village regularly to enjoy the village life away from the bustling crowd of Calcutta. I had informed him about my coming on that day, after finishing my official work at Katwa and took that narrow gauge train.

 There were no street light and added to that there was a load shedding, the houses by the side of the road were sparsely lighted by candles or hurricane lamps. After travelling for about 15 minutes I could locate his sprawling house easily , nothing much had changed in that village, some of the thatched roofed houses had become pucca , telephone and electrical poles along the roads were the new addition to usher in modernity. I got down near the gate , paid the rickshaw fellow. 

Ajit was standing with a lantern and umbrella . I could see his long shadow, he was not visible fully because of the rain and umbrella. He waived at me. I shuffled towards him in raincoat with my overnighter in hand.He was in kurta pajama, still his face was not visible. We walked fast towards the portico to avoid the splashing rain.It was double storied old patterned house with high ceiling. The drawing room or the baithak khana was in the ground floor with guest room , dinning room and kitchen. We entered the drawing room and then i could see him closely in the light of lantern as the load shedding was still continuing. I was amazed to see that he was still a strapping 30 years old as i had seen him last. Here i was more than 60 years of age with almost all hair fallen, pot bellied and there he was standing without the ravage of time. I was nonplused , he was giving me his usual mysterious smile. Without any talk he led me to the guest room, i was familiar with that room as i used to stay there whenever i was coming with him to this house.The rain was still continuing and there was no scope of electricity getting resumed, probably there was a fault.There were heavy lightning strikes, the atmosphere was charged and the old house gave me feeling of a haunted house. 

Ajit left the room quietly, there was a lantern near the bed. While removing the rain coat i started getting eerie feeling, the whole ambience was unnatural.There was no light, heavy rain and the most stunning thing was Ajit had not aged. I was also surprised that he had not spoken a word. There was sound of the falling rain and croaking of frogs. A thermo flask was kept on the table, with cups and saucers by its side.I poured myself a cup of hot tea and started analysing the situation logically. There i was in my friends palatial house where the only soul i met was my friend and who had not aged, looked like a 30 years old lad when he was actually more than 60 years of age.I knew that his wife died long back but then where were the servants? I started getting goose pimples. All sorts of queer ideas were running riot in my subconscious mind. Why did he leave me alone without even exchanging pleasantries? There was a surrealistic atmosphere all around.Was that really Ajit or his ghost.The age of a ghost of a known person depends on at what age one had seen him last.He was 30 years old when i last saw him and he looked the same now.I had this premonition that something bad had happened to Ajit, the destiny had brought me there to unravel some mystery.

As such i was quite tired after that arduous journey in that rickety narrow gauge train , that philosophical talk with that unknown gentleman in the train , the journey by the rickshaw in that heavy rain and on the top of that this shocker of non aging of Ajit made me feel dizzy.I lied down on the bed. The door was open, i found some shadows moving around.The lantern light had dimmed. I tried to get up but could not, as though i was riveted to the bed. Those faceless shadows started hovering around my bed.Suddenly all of them were looking like young Ajit, they all tried to pull me out of the bed.I tried to cringe to the bed. I could not fight against their combined force.I was bodily lifted from the bed. I got up with a start and found the room lighted. 

The power had resumed and an elderly man was holding my hand.Then i realized that i was having a nightmare and that gentleman holding my hand had woken me up. "Hey Samar get up my friend." "Who are you?" I stammered. "Me,Ajit yar." I looked closely at him and found my friend Ajit in him. He had put on weight and had grayed like me. "Sorry, i could not be there when you arrived. I had gone to the market with my servant. Then this heavy rain and power failure delayed my coming home.By that time you had arrived.I left tea for you in that flask. Oh, i see you have taken tea."

 "What about that young man who looked exactly like you when you were young? He received me, but did not utter a word.' 

"He is my son Parimal, yes he looks like me .His appearance has surprised many of my old friends. He looks like younger version of me. Unfortunately he is deaf and dumb. He is a good boy but a bit shy. You look shaken, what's wrong?" 

"Oh, that explains everything." I said guiltily. "Come, let us have some drink before the dinner, you look pretty shaken." Ajit said smilingly.

 I did not explain him the thoughts of my fertile mind under that extraordinary circumstances.I was still recovering from the shock.

Carrot and stick

Carrot and stick

In one of my management articles I had mentioned my experience of watching tiger, lion and seal games in a circus in Russia where the trainer did not carry any electrically charged whip like the ring masters used to do in Indian circuses when animal games were allowed.

We used to watch the trainer would wield the whip in the air and it will make a crackling sound of static electricity and hearing that sound tiger or lion which ever animal then present in the arena will cower and start obeying the master.

In Russia the ringmaster does not carry any whip but instead after a performance he pats the animal and gives a piece of meat as reward.

The practice followed by managers in the industry is either one of the above.

Having said all of the above in recent few times while dealing with a third party I discovered that the policy of stick with Indian establishment workers is more effective.

Recently I attended a picnic where a mike holding roly poly lady was anchoring the games. We were clustered around a table and was having our own fun of gabbing. Then I heard her announcing to bring forward all the tables so that lunch could be served. We brought our table forward. After sometimes she announced that the caterer for their convenience wanted us to align our tables. This was too much, I came to my original BHEL form and called the caterer and said, “ How do they serve in restaurants? The tables are placed separately so do that without wasting time.”

My that intervention worked like a magic and they started serving in the same order as we were seated and no more shifting.

Last week with my IIT mates we went to this renowned restaurant in Salt Lake for lunch. We were 12 and they put 2 tables where 4 usually share and squeezed 4 chairs to make it a 12 sitting arrangement. I noticed that with this arrangement there was hardly any room for moving elbows for holding cutleries. I told the host that this would not do. I called the bearer and asked him to make proper arrangement, he expressed his inability. I asked him to call his manager and the manager came,in my usual style I chewed him for the arrangement and asked him better he did a proper arrangement or I would give bad review in Google and TripAdvisor. It worked like a magic and he got the sitting arrangement redone by organizing a 3^rd table.

I generally don’t want to use this third degree but is compelled to do due to the circumstances, with known people I use the motivation method but if required I go back to the old proven method of screwing.

The third alternative could be to accept whatever way you are dealt as the only way, bear it with a smile.

The confession of a thief

The confession of a thief

Babulal ,my assistant called me.

"Sir,I want to meet you. I have an interesting diary with me . It is written in English."

I asked him why he thought it was interesting.

He informed me that it was written by a thief.

He came to my flat with the diary.

I asked him how he could get the diary. With a mysterious smile he said he knew the thief and on a suitable day he would introduce him to me.

Eagerly I started reading the notebook ,it was not a diary ,it was a leather bound frayed notebook. 

I come from Mofussil town near Siuri,Birbhum.

We were four close friends:Bhabla,Poltu and Tuku.I was good at studies and my father had a grocery shop in the market. From childhood I have noticed how my father used various locks for the shop and keeping money in the safe. I have been playing with locks and keys since my childhood and tried to figure out how those locks worked. I would go to a locksmith's shop to know more.

He explained to me how a tumbler lock worked.I came to know that when a key is inserted then it would move the individual levers into the appropriate position. As I was visiting him regularly I gained his confidence,also he knew I come from a respectable family.

I studied various types of old historical locks which often came to his shop.I designed some tools which could be used to open any lock.

I experimented with my tool in opening my father's safe, I didn't steal Iany money. It was for fun.

But that skill was not known to my friends.

Bhabla was bad in studies, he would copy my homework. Somehow he could pass through class 7 but flunked in class 8.

 My coaching didn't help,he flunked again.

Somehow his passing became my challenge. Then I planned to steal  the question papers from the school. I told my friends about my plan.

We went to the school before the examination in the night,my friends kept the guard engaged and I with the help of my special tool opened the lock of the  door of the room of the principal and also the almirah in which the question papers were kept. I was carrying a notebook in which I copied the questions and then locked the almirah and the door.

Poltu noticed me coming out,he signalled to Bhabla and Tuku. Thus having got the question papers we all forced Bhabla to mug the answers of the questions,not all questions but the easy ones which In the meanwhile Tukuwere enough to get a passing mark.

Having achieved my first lock breaking other than my father's lock I became confident.

I started looking for a challenge. 

One day we were returning from the football field. That time 40 years back I was to appear in higher secondary, when we noticed a poor farmer was crying in his hut. We approached him,he told us that by the next day he would lose his 4 acres of land if he didn't return 20000 the loan which he had taken from the loan shark Bijon Sil.

We went back to my house where every day we spent time after football,my mother would serve muri mixed with a tasty mixture,onion,green chilli,ginger etc. 

I had a plan.I stole 20000 from my father's trunk, by the way those days the modern safe was not heard of in rural Bengal,It used to be big steel boxes locked by 7 levers  Aligarh lock which was supposed

to be the safest but for me to open any tumbler lock was a child's play.

Next day we gave that money to the farmer and went along with him to pay back the wily Sil.It was around 11 in the morning when we approached his walled gated property. When we told the purpose the guard allowed us to enter.Bhabla knew the guard so he stayed bacck to have a little chat.

Sil was in his drawing room reading the newspaper of the day and was surprised to see us with the farmer.He was more surprised when the farmer paid the money and asked for his legal document of his land. Sil had no choice because we were with him ,he counted the money, went  inside  his bedroom and heard him opening a trunk to keep the money,then heard the sound of opening the almirah to extract the legal document. He was looking grave as he missed the opportunity of grabbing the land of the poor farmer. He knew my father so didn't make much fuss.

In the meanwhile I had gone inside pretending to go to the toilet and cased the layout of his house.

He didn't even offer a glass of water to us,the rascal!

When we came out,Bhabla informed us that Sil takes opium so that he could get a sound sleep.

The farmer left happy and thanked us profusely!

We went to our football field and sat below our favourite banyan tree and hatched our next plan,I had to return 20000 to my father's safe by next 2 days as on Sunday's he would tally the cash.

Next evening Bhabla went to the gatekeeper when he was away and mixed datura with his daal which he had already prepared.

The plan was the datura which was easily available among wild trees. We had grinded a small quantity so that it was not lethal but was enough to knock him out unconscious.

That night stealthily we came to Sil's house. Bhabla and Poltu remained at the gate to take care of the gatekeeper. He was knocked out lying on the floor. We lifted him and put him on the bed.

Me and Tuku went to the house,it had an old style bolt inside. Silently I drilled a hole and eased out the bolt. 

Sil was in deep sleep after ingesting opium,the bunch of keys was bound around his waist,I smiled as I didn't require any key. I have my burglar tools.

I instructed Tuku to stand by the bed of Sil in case he got up.

On tiptoe I approached the trunk ,the lock was not even 7 levers. I could easily open the lock. Not only did I take 20000 ,I took most of the jewellery which poor people had pawned. Against each the names were written with addresses. I locked the almirah and the trunk.

I put everything in the rucksack which I was carrying.

Lucky that nothing abnormal happened. I bolted the door through the hole which had drilled and closed the hole by using the putty which I was carrying.

Thus my career was launched.

We returned those jewellery to the owners with a warning of not to disclose that they had got back those. I put back 20000 which I had borrowed from my father's trunk.

Sil realised those were missing when he opened his trunk to put fresh jewellery for giving loan but was puzzled as there was no sign of break-in.

Next week a story appeared in the local newspaper that a mysterious thief had come stealing from the rich without opening the safes. There was speculation that it could be a ghost. The paper went on to inform that the same type of stealing was reported from the adjoining area.

The local station house office of the police station  who was known to 

us was puzzled. He advised us to be vigilant,we promised to bring to his notice if we observed anything abnormal.

I passed my higher secondary and before moving to Kolkata for higher study I had to use my lock opening skill in our town under an odd condition. 

Well that's for another day.

The man from the moon

The man from moon

 Like every visit of ours in Australia this time too spent a day with Sharon and Dave who are like our extended family in Australia. Sharon is tomboyish and very much interested in outer space. Both call me Baba and my wife Ma as they are close friends of our son Anish.

She goes out of the way to help, recently they gave shelter to a drug addicted destitute girl. While discussing that girl she shared a weird story about a man whom her group has given shelter by rotation. 

This is what she told us.

One day our friend John brought a Caucasian man who was wearing an oxygen mask and was walking with a drag. John introduced  that man to us and requested to give shelter for a few days.He had a duffel bag . He had no identification papers except for a strange looking handheld gadget which he stated contains all information about him.

John separately told me that the previous night he found him loitering in his open acreage.John is a plumber by trade and is not much educated . That guy was talking about the moon.

Hearing about the moon I got interested so agreed to keep him in our house. 

After John left him,I accomodated him in Dave's man cave. I offered him food,he declined and pulled out an aluminium can and opened it to eat the pasty stuff inside.

I asked him about his country of origin.

He informed me that he had come from the moon.

"Moon? But the moon is not habitable yet. Recently India landed Chandrayan 3 which also didn't indicate any habitation."

With a twinkle in his eyes with a visible smile wrinkle behind his Oxygen mask he informed he is a time traveller and has come from 2091. 

"What a time traveller from 2091,but that means our scientists could establish habitable domes as shown in sci-fi movies. But how could you travel?"

"A group of us scientists stole a spaceship to do this experiment of time travel through a wormhole. We were lucky to locate such a wormhole which could take backwards to 2023. It was kind of an adventure for us. We don't intend to go back, there is no chance for that. At this time on earth the space travel technology for Interstellar movement is yet to get matured from experimental to working model. My 3 friends are out there like me."

"What are you eating and why are you walking with a drag? Are you sick,why do you require the Oxygen mask?"

He replied.

I will first tell you briefly about our domes where we 4000 people stay. You must be knowing that the moon has a thin atmosphere of helium,argon,neon,methane,ammonia,carbon dioxide. The gravity of the moon is ⅙ th of earth so you see me dragging as I am still to get habituated to this high gravity of earth. The earth's atmosphere has oxygen plus nitrogen,carbon dioxide etc but for survival 20 percent of oxygen is enough so our Aluminium domes with thick glass at the top are pressurised with 20% Oxygen. So as of now I am with this oxygen mask but gradually I will remove this.

Initially when the domes were getting made we carried big oxygen tanks from earth but now oxygen is by product from Aluminium refinery. As you know Aluminium Oxide has 3 atoms  of oxygen.

We don't grow crops instead we get these canisters of food which have all elements required for a human body with artificial taste and flavour chemicals from earth on a regular basis. Basically we manufacture aluminium and glass on the moon now.

There is regular tourist flow from earth and also some super rich people have made the moon as their second home. We get fugitives and social outcasts. The moon administration is with a private conglomerate consisting of super rich American,Saudi,Chinese,Indian etc.

Anything more do you want to know?

I asked whether he has any knowledge about earth in the intervening years.

He informed us that there had been wars, epidemics,asteroid strikes which kept the population in check. In that future the sun was the main source of energy on earth.

As I am a scientist so with your help it shouldn't be difficult to get citizenship as I can share my knowledge of the future technology.

When Sharon finished her strange experience I was eager to know more,so I asked her whether I could meet him.

She informed me that she got in touch with agencies and he is in their custody now.

I started imagining how people stay in those domes but then I realised that in India itself we have gated communities with all facilities thrown in such that one need not go out anytime with the work from home concept. I remember in Vizag I was with my family inside a submarine and had lunch with the captain. There he explained how for days they don't come in touch with land.

I told Sharon that if the moon would have been available then our fugitive billionaires would have taken shelter there.

I thought to myself that the ageing will be slow on the moon because of low gravity as strains on muscle will be low.

I am sure in 2091 many Indian super rich would be going to moon for destination marriage.Practically they will have honeymoon there.

Lonely

Like every morning I was completing my morning walk around the lake when I found my morning walk friend Jitenbabu who was sitting by the side of Lake call out my name. I had not seen him for the last one week as he had gone to Santiniketan to enjoy the abode of Tagore and the surrounding nature in the rain. 

I sat down by his side and enquired about his trip. He looked very excited and said, " My best travel so far to any place. " My association with Jitenbabu is of 10 yrs and it all started here at the lake. It was raining on that day when I shared my big golf umbrella with him. He also started his career in oil Industry located in Assam like me but he was in Assam Oil Company, Digboi and I started my career in Gauhati Refinery of Indian Oil Corporation. He was more or less of my age and divorced. He was staying in his ancestral house in Southern Avenue.

 "I remember you told me that you love going to Santiniketan in rainy season to enjoy the smell of wet fields and the limitless horizon where sky meets the field."

 "Yes,that was my main attraction but it turned out that there was some other plan was stored for me."

 "I can make out from your face that you had some unforgettable experience !"

 This is what he told me. 

As you know I took Santiniketan Express for Bolpur. I was sitting in 1st class AC Chaircar,the train started on scheduled time ,I pulled out the book Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom. The seat next to me was vacant. From Burdwan baul , many hawkers boarded the train. I always carry eclair to give to poor kids or if anyone does some good deed. A blind beggar led by his young son came to my seat. I gave him a tenner and some eclair to his son. The train pulled out of Burdwan. A young man in pajama kurta,with a jhola and a stroller bag asked me if the next seat was vacant. I nodded and he placed his bags on the overhead luggage storage place and took the aisle seat. I was busy reading my book and he was busy on his mobile talking to someone regarding his plan of staying in Bolpur.

 I was trying to guess his profession. It was Monday so he is not a tourist otherwise he would have started on Saturday, whereas I as a retired person preferred Mondays when I don't get the compartments full with noisy tourists. He had that typical literate look which is a rare in today's youth in jeans and Tees. He smiled at me and introduced himself as Souvik. I asked his profession and he told me he is an online tutor teaches English. I know that after Corona on line education has picked up it's called Edutech. Byju has created history for being the fastest growing start-up in on line education during Corona time. It was valued at 22 billion dollar then, it dared to think big. Money was pouring in ! Ravindran,CEO ,founder achieved a Rockstar status, Byju became one of the main sponsors of the last FIFA World cup by paying 40 million dollars but unfortunately after Corona when all schools opened then Byju lost cliental and the present valuation is 5 billion. 

So I jokingly asked him that hope he was not one of those numerous tutors located throughout India under Byju. He smiled and said he was independent, showed me his laptop with a dongle which was his main tool. He powered the lap top and showed me some slides of his tutorial. I was impressed. He looked at my book and said he too reads Albom . His favourite writer was Paulo Coelho too among others. I asked him whether he has read Sapiens by Yuval Noah Harari. He nodded and was surprised that I have read that book. In the meanwhile he pulled out a packet of salted peanuts and shared with me. I stopped reading the book, I was liking the intellectual talk with him, for a change Souvik was not interested in cricket or politics,the favorite subject of most of the Indians. I informed him that I have booked a cottage in West Bengal Tourist Lodge.

 On scheduled time the train pulled in Bolpur, he got up , lowered his bags and my stroller. He didn't allow me to pull my bag,he asked me to go ahead with my sling bag. He helped me to get down from the train. Somehow I convinced him that I can pull my stroller bag, we both came out of the station. He hired a taxi and requested me to accompany him. I reluctantly got in. I normally take a toto. 

He dropped me at the lodge , I was looking forward to meet him again,as though he could read my thought and said ,"I will drop in after lunch if you don't have any other programme. " I readily agreed as for my such 3 days stay I generally don't make any fixed programme as my main aim was to relax. 

 I checked in my cottage, freshened up and proceeded for lunch in the dining hall. After lunch I came back to my cottage ,I wanted to lie down for a power nap. At about 4 pm there was knock on my door, I opened the door and found Souvik with his sling bag and a packet standing by the door. I invited him in the room,he gave me the packet and said," here is a packet of Eclair for you to distribute. You can carry your packet of eclair for poor and this you can distribute to whoever ask you for. You were telling me you want to have an experience of moving with group of young people who can sing and dance to the tune of Rabindrasangeet. I have organized such a programme for you at Sonajhuri forest area."

 I could not believe that he could organize such an experience, this was one of the items in my bucket list. He had hired a taxi, we got in and proceeded for Sonajhuri by the river  Khoayee. After Santiniketan the right hand side goes to Prantik and the left side road to Sonajhuri. After 10 minutes we reached a place near forest where I could see lot of young men and women in jeans,kurtas,sarees ,skirts in all kind of modern attire. They were not surprised to see me, I was warmly welcomed. A group was already singing a popular chorus, "Aloker jharna dharay.." The sun was slowly setting in the overcast cloud. The shaal tree and the reverberating music created a magical ambience. I slowly walked towards the group and joined them in singing the chorus. I am no bathroom singer but sometimes I whistle along whenever a song which i like is playing in the music system. This was my first live participation and was enjoying it. We sang on for an hour or so. A group was dancing. I was so happy that pulled out the packet of eclaire which Souvik had given me and got up to distribute. Some of them got up and took it from me. Not that all were interested in eclaire as that time tea was served. Many young girls and boys from the dancing group took eclaire. That packet was not finished. I thoroughly enjoyed those magical moments with young people. After my divorce I was leading a lonely life so those moments gave me a new kind of high. I wanted the show to go on forever but everything has to come to an end. It was getting dark and slowly those youngsters started going back. Souvik told me later those were students of Santiniketan. We also got up ,he dropped me at the lodge.

 Next day he took me to Kankalitala (one of the pithosthan where Satis's ribcage has fallen), there also we met some youngsters . We all went by the side of temple to the open field,whenever I come to this temple I prefer to come out in the field and watch the yellow mustard crop. Again this group too started singing together and I joined them in singing. This time they came to me one by one after talking to Souvik I gave them eclaire as I was happy. 

              Next day we went to Santiniketan met some students at Kalabhavan and had discussion on various sculptures and arts created by Nanda Lal Bose,Ramkinkar Bej etc. I was happy so distributed a round of eclair.

 In the evening I told Souvik that I would leave the next day and thanked him for gifting me those intellectual moments. I returned him the remaining eclair and asked him to give those to  his friends. He took the packet smilingly, he took out one piece and asked me to take before sleep for a good sleep.

 Yes,I had told him that for years now I was not getting proper sleep. I took that eclair after dinner and slowly I felt as though I was floating in my bed , my body was so light,I became one with the nature. Sometimes I was singing in  Sonajhuri and other times I was in Upsana Griha listening to Tagore. A myriad of dreams. They say dreams come in black and white but my that night dream had colours.I was in different universe where i was a poet,an artist.

           Next day I had slight headache and then I realized that I have taken some kind of barbiturates (drug). A hard realization hit me, I was peddling drug on behalf of Souvik. It’s illegal no doubt but then he presented me a life time experience which money cannot buy. I will always remember those moments when we all sang together in Sonajhuri or the intellectual discussion with those art students. 

“Jitenbabu, no doubt Souvik had gifted you unique experience. Sadly you won’t see him again!” I said.

Chameleon

Chameleon

I reached Gurgaon form my house at Pashchim Vihar just in time for the interview. I was one of the experts hired for interviewing candidates for an IT enabled service company. We were to select a couple of mangers to head the departments. My friend Gulati completed the first round of introductions between us interviewers.

We allotted 15 minutes to each of the candidates; we were three so 5 minutes to each of us to ask questions. The interview started and we could manage to interview three candidates in one hour.

The fourth candidate with slight stoop entered, smartly dressed, French beard, specs and wearing a dark suit with matching tie. His biodata indicated him to be 40 years old and having a brilliant academic career with requisite experience in an IT company in Bangalore. He was carrying a lap top.

After the preliminary introductions, we started our interview. I was the last to ask question to him. Somehow I got this uncanny feeling that I had known this guy intimately somewhere during my service time, unfortunately the name, experience and the place of his work was not matching with my work domain. The twwinkle in his eyes and the mishivieous smile was familiar.

“Were you in Calcutta in 1990?” I asked.

“No sir, of course I have visited Calcutta many a times,” was his jovial reply.

“Do you have a brother who used to stay in Ballygaunge Station Road area?”

“No, I am the only son of my parents,” was his cryptic reply.

As this thought of knowing him was nagging me so I could not proceed further with my questioning.

At the end of the interviews in the evening when we sat down to assess then the fourth candidate, whom I thought I knew came out to be the best and he was selected.

After returning home the feeling of knowing that guy kept on haunting me. The eyes were known and I thought during the interview once he winked at me, that might be figment of my imagination. Then it came to me that about fifteen years back near my house in Calcutta there was a club. They used to hold various puja functions and also stage dramas. Once for one of our office plays we had hired Pratul for the main role. He single handedly carried the drama through. After that he used to come to my house regularly. He was working as a clerk in a private company. He had no ambition.

“Why don’t you join one of the professional theatre groups in north Calcutta,” I enquired.

“I don’t want to do the same role day after day. Haven’t you noticed that the same drama is staged months after months,” was Pratul’s logical reply.

“You know; I don’t know how my manners switch when I change my dress. Supposing I am wearing dhoti, kurta and sandal then I am a typical Bengali babu. If I am in jeans, Tee shirts and Nike shoes then I am one of those party hopping youth’s when I am not doing any drama then still I start acting the character as per the dress I am wearing on that day. My parents feel disturbed about it as they feel I have split personality but I feel it is natural” he explained passionately.

That was the last talk I had before they moved out of our area. This fourth character at the interview whose name was Probal Ghose, somehow reminded me of Pratul Dey.

I woke up from my reverie by the shrill ringing tone of my land phone. I took the phone.

“Hello uncle, this is Pratul, I am sorry about today and I want to meet you tomorrow,” he pleaded.

“So it was you?” fumingly I said.

“When I meet I will explain you everything.”

“Ok, come at 10 am, do you have my address.”

“Yes, I got it from that office, see you then.”

Next day with baited breath I waited for him to arrive. He came just on time, I could recognize him instantly then, the stoop was gone, and there was no beard and specs. He was wearing a full sleeve sweater over his blue shirt and a black pant, sneaker. There was no trace of Probal excepting the eyes. He came and touched my feet; I became emotional and hugged him.

“Probal is my close friend; he got stuck at Bangalore so he contacted me in Calcutta that whether I can attend the interview on his behalf. Getting the job at Delhi was very important for him as he is from Delhi and his parents need him. He knew my ability of impersonation, he paid plane fare and here I am. Your choice is right because all the records are his and I became him for those fifteen minutes of interview,” he explained while sitting down.

“But this is not ethical. You have put me in a spot,” I argued.

“Look uncle this is nothing compared to incompetent people getting selected through the back door. Please tell me in India which selection is fair. You are in Delhi you know how business is done here. I understand in many governments companies the employees after giving attendance go out and manage some other business. You once mentioned that at Farakka Barrage most of the employees are the owners of the shops at the Farakka Barrage market,” he argued with me.

“Are you still a clerk or moved to some drama company.”

“No, now I am running a consultancy firm. I have specialized in attending interviews. Many of those Bengali boys though they are brilliant but are not fluent in English because of the skewed education system, they come to me. I train them for interviews for those IT companies coming up in Salt lake area.”

“How the hell in a short time you can brush their spoken English,” I asked.

He hesitated to answer this question of mine. On my prodding he replied “I have trained some boys who have studied in English medium, these boys are smart but not good in studies but can sail through those interviews. They attend the interviews on their behalf. Let me warn you that if you give them any software work then they will flunk. Luckily mostly call center jobs are coming. These young boys trained by me are very good. I am proud of them.”

“Where else do you use your acting capabilities,” I asked gleefully.

“I act as father of other’s kids and attend interviews in the English medium schools where they interview the parents also. You know many people have made tons of money in business but can’t speak English, like your previous land lord Malakar the jeweler. These are the people who are mad for admitting their kids in English medium schools and as a result of this, English medium schools are coming up like anything, so through this route I get good business. There are many such avenues where I use my acting talent which you may not like to know,” was his considered reply.

“I remember you told me that the dress you wear influences you to act as per that. Then your wardrobe must be full of various types of dresses.”

“No that is easy, I borrow these from a friend who runs a dry cleaning shop in our area,” he replied with a wink.

This was preposterous.

“I have some more future plans, looking at the need of the modern society. I am shortly opening a branch at Salt Lake City for providing grandparents for the nucleolus families. There are so many young parents with one kid but they are not keeping their own parents with them as they are not hep like them, they are from the suburbs. I will provide them with smart set of parents whom they can introduce proudly in the upwardly mobile society. These smart old people have good stock of bed time stories, the dadis can sing lullabies. They can do babysitting for the kids of these new generation couples. The charges will be hourly basis; the client has to provide transport, food etc for that period. Uncle if you are free then I can put your name also in the panel,” he said teasingly.

I was not interested to know more about his nefarious activities but I could understand that the consumerism has thrown open fresh opportunities for him where he is hard selling his talent. Let us say that you have to attend some silly statutory office personally then probably a guy like Pratul will be handy. He can be you to face those dull moments and you can save your precious time and do something more useful. In this fast moving world many a time one is faced with this dilemma of attending too many things at the same time. Then almost all of us must have thought at some time or other that we wish we could be like Lord Krishna to be present at all the places at the same time. Saddam had been practicing this openly and hoodwinking the whole world. I understand most of the dictators were using double. Pratul left his business card with me in case if his talent is required by someone.

The name of his company is Personality Provider, located in South Calcutta. He can be reached through me.

The mysterious stone

The greenish figure was walking in front and I was following it clutching the stone in the midnight on Puri sea beach.
The waves were calmer and sky was partly cloudy with moon playing hide and seek. The beach was strewn with sleeping homeless people.
As though an invisible magnet made me to follow that glowing green figure, I was walking like a somnabulist in my shorts  ,tees and barefoot. Could feel the edges of broken sea shell in my feet.
Readers must be wondering what prompted me to this night sojourn in the dead of the night.
It all started with that stone which I purchased thinking it to be emerald from the struggling Telugu actor Raja.
After dinner in the hotel Victoria we went to sleep. I kept that stone on the night table near the bed. In the middle of the night I got up and found a  holographic greenish shadowy figure coming out of the stone and beckoning me to follow. I was in NREM (non rapid eye movement) phase of sleep, a kind of slumber. After I started popping sleeping pill my sleep pattern has become installmental, a kind of part time lover,it comes and goes. Like a zombie I got up in my shorts grabbed a few Bank notes strewn on the dressing table and took my mobile, as such this type of action is part of regular going out habit so it was more of mechanical action than a planned action.
My wife was in deep sleep ,the shadowy figure vanished near the door, somehow I had this feeling that the stone was the reason of that figure appearing before me,so I was cluching the stone in one hand my cell phone in other.
I opened the door,the shadowy figure was there in corridor,it glowing green figure in that half lit corridor.
The gate keeper of the hotel was in half sleep ,I waved at him,he was not surprised as many people perform puja of the sea in the night, sea is the symbol of the origin of evolution. I don't think he could see the green glow in front of me,it was for me as I had the stone. When we stepped in the beach then a sweet fragrance wafted on my face and I started hearing a mystical tune as though someone is playing pan flute.
I couldn't break the invisible force which kept pulling me,I looked back at the illuminated hotel and went on following that illusive figure,the mystical sound and fragrance kept lingering. Somehow I was feeling as though the figure was trying to show something to me. Is it leading me to the cove where it is said some people had sighted mermaids. I remembered to have read about the statue of a black mermaid in Copenhagen. Hans Christian Anderson wrote the story The little Mermaid and suddenly I was transported to that fairy world created by the author. The beach has become illuminated by different colour of diffused light, it was full of people in ancient gears. It was a show of myriad  colours with floating figures . I felt important as though that show was put for me exclusively. At that patch of sea beach i was the only living being.I was dazzled.

 I couldn't take the strain of the long walk on the rough beach. I sat down but the green figure was frantic, I waved at it conveying now leave me alone.
It turned red from green as though in anger and gestured at me angrily and cursed me.
I said Jay Jagannath loudly, heard Raja's voice shouting my name.
"Roysahab where are you?"
I heard the voice of my wife too.
Suddenly it felt like I have come to my senses after a trance,I took a deep breathe of the Ozone rich beach air.
In a weak voice I replied,  "I am here !" I raised my mobile with torch on. I was more or less lying on the sand with exhaustion and that stone had vanished in the thin air, that green wisp of human too melted in the dark sea. I looked at the sea and it appeared to me as though a distant figure is bidding good bye and became one with the sea. The fishy smell of the sea shore was back and that mystical music sounded like "pearly shell " by Billy Vaughn orchestra has stopped.

My wife was breathless due to the arduous trek of May be 2 km or so,Raja was holding a torch.
Raja gave a guilty look and said ,"I sold the wrong stone to you!"
"Where did you get the stone from ?"
I asked.
He said ," it was lying somewhere here and that is why when memshaheb rang me and informed me that you have walked out with the stone then I realized you would be somewhere here. I went to your hotel and with memshaheb straight came to this place.!"
Then he asked," Sir where is that stone?"
I showed my empty palm and said ,"Vanished!"

Russia and Russians as I know

Like all others I too look forward for the day when conflict between Russia and Ukraine will end.
I have been associated with Russians since my days in Indian Oil Corporation's Refinery at Barauni when Russia was Soviet Union or USSR in 1967 .That Refinery was built by Russians with aid thrown in. Russians had a separate 3 blocks as their hostel.
I remember our ceremonial football matches  against Russians after the 15th August flag hoisting.
We were evenly matched but as the refinery expansion work was petering out so during the  last  encounter they somehow cobbled up 11  players with the lady interpreter playing as goalkeeper. I was the captain of Indian side. Yes,that match we won but don't feel proud about it but appreciate their sporting spirit. Two Russian words used by the players during the match still ring in my ears "dabai" (give )and "khorosho"(good).
I must admit that Russians freely shared their engineering calculations.  There was a problem of tankage area not getting proper illumination from Tower lights,each tower had 6 flood lights of 1000 watt each. Though I got all bulbs replaced but still it was not adequate. I went to our archives and looked up illumination design of the plant and I could lay my hand on original calculations and settings. I corrected the solid angle of each of the flood light as per calculated setting, the problem got resolved. That gave me confidence that I can resolve any problem related with Electrical equipment because of those engineering documents.
Next I came across Russian designed 210 MW turbine and generator in BHEL. At one stage in 80s these 210 MW sets were the backbone of Indian grid. Again elaborate documentation helped to carry out repair and maintenance of these sets. I commissioned 5 such sets of LMZ at Singrauli Superthermal Power Station from 1982 to1984.
During my posting at Vizag Steel Plant from 1988 I again met whole lot of Russian experts and their families at Ukkunagaram, the township of steel plant .  They had a separate colony inside the township with shop and school. During that stay when  Russia disintegrated and those experts were totally dismayed about their nationalities. Overnight friends became foe. Their passports became invalid because Russia was fragmented. Suddenly the usual cheerful Russians became grumpy as their future was uncertain. By 1991 December Russia finally became many countries.
I had visited both Russia and Ukraine in 2003 ,I still remember visiting World Famous art museum Hermitage in St Petersburg, standing on the Red Square in Moscow.  I also enjoyed a show of circus in Moscow, they have permanent hall for circus. I still remember the breathtaking acrobatics by Russian gymnasts.
We visited LMZ turbine factory on the right bank of river Neva in St Petersburg.Steam turbines have been produced here since 1907 when the company was licensed to build French Rateau turbines. At the same time it began to build gun turrets, gun mountings and torpedo tubes. It was like our own turbine block at Bhopal. When I met the design engineers then didn't see any computer around,I was curious about this not having computer which by that time has become necessary tool in India. When i asked their chief about it then he gave a tolerant smile to me and said tapping his head, "all data stored here ! "
Curiously our guide Alexendrov who was an  accomplished engineer with 7 patents under his belt was not carrying any laptop.
Then I remembered their famous Grandmaster like Karpov, Spassky etc could out maneuver many,to me it appeared each of those engineers were having Karpov or Spassky like quality of storing data in mind.
Our stay in Kiev was eventful, we had visited a tram manufacturing factory known as Tatra Yug. They organized a special tram ride for us to take round of the city.
In both the countries I met hardworking intelligent engineers of both sex.
Yesterday when I heard that a dam in Ukraine has been bombarded by Russian and caused flooding.
I felt sad  and frustrated. This mindless war must end, I feel for those civilians of both the countries.