Whom should Afghan women look for help?

By Sandeep Datta

Imagine a female member of our family being forced to give in to a stranger's sexual desire on any given day? How will we react if we come to know that people in our neighbourhood watched as she cried for help. Nobody worth his manhood even blinked his eye and the barbarism happened.  

A large number of Afghan women are suffering immeasurably in their country, for refusing to submit their modesty to the amorous desire of a powerful men or local hoodlums, or saying 'no" to marry their rapists to avoid being added to their list of 'wives', or get blamed for 'trying' to run away with a "man from outside her marriage".

  

This is happening with Afghan women at large. And, nobody is bothering to be a help. Those women look for some divine help, which could come from any country or group who takes the pain to feel their wounds and agony and highlight it. 

Naturally, our mind could be filled with extreme resentment and basic expectation from people to at least dare to raise a voice to prevent that brutality in such a situation. But today there are women who expect this courtesy from us. . 

Yes, us -- the silent members of hugely connected social networking sites; facebook, orkut, etc. We can surely make a difference, if we really want to.  

To any man, even a thought of it could be horribly agonising. For any person with a young sister, daughter, wife or mother at home, this could be a nightmare that he might not even think to be happening with anyone around. 

But then what about the women's suffering it in Afghanistan? Should't we raise a voice for them, if their Afghan government is consistently failing to do so or simply feels 'incapable' due to political compulsions.    

Should this be allowed to happen in a civilised society? Should it be allowed in a world where agencies like United Nations and Human Rights groups exist? 

Remember, a united public is a major force like we watched in the Arab world, where so many government were made to listen to ordinary public. 

The united concern and pointing out on any wrongful act can force powerful countries having friendly relations with Afghanistan to act and deliver. 

It is time we thought beyond our personal lives. Shouldn't people, unmindful of their geographical boundaries, be a voice against injustice being meted out to fellow creatures, living a few hours away by flight, or even in any part of the world? 

If our little initiative can make a major difference in a society's life, why not take it friends? For tomorrow, it could be our turn to be on the receiving end. 

We need to remember we can expect help from others, provided we raised our voice today for others. Isn't it unfair?     

 

How can we be silent when an uncountable number of women are being living a life which can be described nothing less than "horrendus" and "torturous" . 

Let's make a beginning. Let's raise a voice for everyone and anyone , anywhere and everywhere whoever is in need. 

Let's make a difference in other's lives by highlighting others' plight, before expecting others to make it for us.

इंतज़ार और तड़प

लेखक : संदीप दत्ता                                         मई १६ , २०१ ३ 

दी दा रे यार कैसे करें   हम कोई तो बताये …
जो रूठे  हैं उन्हें कैसे मनाये  कोई तो बताये ।

कम्बख्त ये दूरियां बनी ही क्यों थी ,
किसने बनायी ये ..और आखिर बनी तो किस के  लिए?

यक़ीनन दिलों में खंज़र गुसेड कर खौफनाक सी हंसी के लिए ,
नहीं तो और क्या ?

मरहम का काम तो नहीं करती ये निगोड़ी, कलमुही दूरियां । 
ज़ख्मों पर  बाम तो नहीं लगाती ये दुरियाँ

फिर आखिर बनी ही क्यों ये बेरहम, बे ह या, और बेमतलब की ये  दूरियां


वो जिनकी राह तकते तकते थक गयीं हैं आखें , वो जिनके इज़हार को तरसता है दिल
वो कहाँ गम हैं वो कहाँ गु म हैं

रूह काँपती है इधर उनका हाल सोच कर, दुआ निकलती है उनकी खै रियत के  लिए ,

अब तो आँख झपकती ही नहीं, जो नींद आ सके एक पल भी  
फिर दिखते क्यों नहीं अब भी    आखिर वो कहाँ हैं, कहाँ है    कहाँ हैं ...

Revisiting patriotic fervour of Vande Matram

By Sandeep Datta

Indian diversity and its multi-religious character has been a big charm for people across the world. The Indian way of life appeals a lot of Britons and Americans, in particular, since their countries are witnessing a rapidly failure of society at large.

Briton and the US are faced with the challenge of regaining trust of disgruntled individuals. Since these people are falling in the trap of terror groups and targetting their own brothers and sisters.  It looks the governments in these countries now need to do a lot of homework to evoke love among people for their nation.

In this context, the Indian lifestyle and social set up should draw more attention of the western world. More importantly, due to the kind of passion the Indians have for their country. The very sight of national flag evokes a deep sense of respect and pride among people for the country, which regained its freedom from British rule. 

While leaving India in 1947, the British empire left its most discomforting shadow in the form of growing hatred between Hindu and Muslim communities. But it was the sense of nationalism which left a big hope of revival of brotherhood Hindus and Muslims.

Like the religious movements played a vital role in uniting Indians, beyond religion, caste and geographical locations, during freedom struggle, patriotic songs also played a huge role. One of them was Vande Matram.

Originally a poem taken from Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyay's 1882 novel Anandamath, it was written as a praise of the motherland and to inspire respect and love for it. During Indian independence movement, the song was a great help in evoking a feeling to unite and fight out the British rule together.  

Today, many countries are facing terrorism, especially from brain-washed locals turning against their governments. And, like others, the Indians, beyond political leaders, need to protect their brotherhood threatened by divisive forces and the policies of appeasing some while depriving the rest. 

One can observe it on various social networking sites, how many youngsters are liking and promoting communal messages. The social platform of such a big scale is at times used to misguide and thus provoke hatred.    

The government needs to have a serious look at it till it gets too late like it has in Britain and America.

But amid everything, there is a big positive role patriotic poems, write ups or songs can play even at such platforms. Provided, the government agencies show interest and explore ways to promote such things beyond occasions like the independence day and republic day i.e. Aug.15 and Jan.26 respectively.

One such method could be to generate love and passion for our national song -- Vande Matram.

There is nothing more saddening that a song of such a great significance during freedom struggle has been given a communal colour.

I wonder how the controversy created by some fundamentalist Muslim preachers over singing of Indian national song Vande Matram being un-Islamic and some of hardliner Hindus forcing it down their throats was even allowed to take place despite government and court's existence.

We need to remember if India needed unity of thought and action till six decades ago, the nation requires it more badly in today's world when our enemy countries are brain-washing groups on the Indian soil. And, at a time, when most of us keep buying China made products and helping an enemy nation's' industrial rise.

Today, the countrymen need to have a strong sense of nationalistic feeling, unity among all beyond personal religious faiths and practices. The magic of patriotism and love for Swadeshi (Indian products) can do wonders.

It holds significance, especially when the country is faced by so many external threats. The anti-India groups and our sworn enemies are spreading hatred and divisions among all of us from inside and outside the country. And, many of us are stupidly giving in to their tactics.

Not many of us are realising we are actually looking fools by falling into the trap of those whose aim is to divide us all by carrying on rubbing salt into old wounds so that they never heal.

It is shocking to see how we, who form such a vast literate society,  are letting our social structure get sabotaged by divisive forces, operating inside and outside the country.   

The hate-mongers and divisive powers that have survived on the basis of communal lines can be silenced through nationalistic feelings. Thus, it becomes more important than ever before that Indians should look at their own motherland with respect and true love. .  

The government too is guilty of doing precious little to encourage and promote the nationalistic fervour in every nook and corner of the country and the world. 

The vote bank politics has compromised the respect for nation and mediums like our national song. It is projected as if by singing Vande Matram, one is towing the line of RSS or BJP or any other Hindu group. Does Bharat belong only to them?

One tends think why shouldn't the nation come first than any other thing? What is the use of that religion if it doesn't value a country, a geographical space of the world, which gave us a big identity, a place to cherish our lie and pursue our religion with full freedom and enjoy life with individuals of different religious faith? 

This also applies to the love of language. Be it Hindi, Urdu, Sanskrit or any other Indian language, every Indian should value it and respect its usage as an Indian language in any sphere of life. 

Be it standing for or singing the glory of one's motherland...through Vande Matram or Sare Jahan Se Acha or Jana Gana Mana..all should be viewed as the ultimate prayer and respect for the Martibhumi, Mitti or, Vatan which has nurtured us. 

Likewise, there should be no hesitation in singing ....Vande Matram! 

For detail on British rule in India...
http://www.infoplease.com/encyclopedia/history/east-india-company-british.html

Sometimes self-inflicted injury is not worth it

By Sandeep Datta

Falling in love despite knowing its consequence is perhaps equally stupid than falling off one's motorbike due to a silly personal decision. 

I felt it Thursday (May 9, 2013)  while going to meet someone in a hurry despite drowsiness of the previous night shift. 

I was heading to Nirman Bhavan, near India Gate, to collect a copy of our property documents from an agent whom I had met a few minutes ago while returning from Green Park office. 

I had just reached home but he called me back. I rushed on the same route in the sweltering heat having taken a glass of water at home. I was sleepy and exhausted already, but had little choice except to go.

It is about 12 km from my Malka Ganj located house to Nirman Bhavan. I was too desperate to get the document so could not delay collecting it on the next day.

Just as I reached the road, which leads to Gole Market area, near Connaught Palace, on the route to Nirman Bhavan, I fell off the motorbike while taking a steep turn at the Mandir Marg traffic signal, near Birla Mandir.

The bike skidded on an oil puddle. The oil had  perhaps dropped out of some passing vehicle just a while ago. The moment my flat hind tyre, already declared risky by mechanics for being old and too much used, touched the puddle in speed, it lost its grip of the road. And, me and the bike went out of control.

It felt as if suddenly someone had taken off the back tyre. The motorbike skidded a bit, making me lose entire balance and falling off on my back with my head banging on the road. 

Thankfully I was wearing a helmet which saved me head injuries as my head hit the road.

A youngster, driving a motorbike just ahead of me, probably with his girl friend, stopped just as I fell. He  helped me park my bike on the roadside and checked my left knee which had made it difficult for me to to walk without difficulty.

He told me about the oil on road and said: "Aapka pichla tyre bhi pura ganja ho chuka hai" (your hind tyre has also turned flat). I realised what led to my fall. 

I was limping and feeling the knee had been badly hurt. Though there was a little bruise, it was paining and had started swelling. I thanked the couple and others and told them to carry on as I could take care of me. 

Since the incident occurred on a traffic signal, all eyes were on me with discomfort. Just as it turned green, all disappeared to my big relief. I checked my belongings. I found the stitching had come off a bit too much from the middle of my new pant. 

It felt embarrassing to feel the underwear being visible. But I decided to carry on, by covering my back with my hanging office bag, despite limping and torn apart pant.

I restarted my motorbike in God's name and went on to meet the guy I was supposed to collect the property documents from. 

But on my way, I realised there was perhaps no other reason for my fall except me. First, I was in a hurry and had turned completely oblivious to my barely alert mind, having being awake for whole night. .

It had turned very important to collect the conveyance deed since I had been seeking it for the transfer of property in mother's name for last few weeks. 

But I did not have the right papers to verify if my brother had already transferred the property in his name or not. 

So, I had made an arrangement with a staff in the land and building department of Nirman Bhavan, the central government office which maintains records of property ownership related documents. 

Sumit, the concerned person working in the information facility centre, was to handover a copy of our documents on the same day in lieu of Rs.3,000 as bribe. Otherwise, I was told it is a weeks-long procedure. 

Having already waited for about three weeks for the same documents from a local court near our house, it had turned frustratingly urgent to get them by hook or crook. 

Finally, I reached his office within next 15 minutes, only to get an incomplete set of documents. But I had no choice to miss it and stupidly took it. 

I reached home and again rushed to meet our advocate in Kashmiri Gate only to find that the document was not worth it.

In the evening, I visited our family physician, who advised me against going to the office at least for that night. I agreed but expressed by compulsion. But my boss, Dr. Rahul Dass, was kind enough. 

He talked to the executive managing director and the editor-in-chief and requested for leave on my behalf. They agreed. Interestingly, I had requested for one night. He issued a public message in the company about me being off for next three days.

After everything, I recalled how I had been forewarned by mechanics to get both the tyres replaced nth time. I took it very casually. Perhaps, a slip on the road was due to take place for a long time. It was just a matter of time. 

But, it all happened because I tried to save money for the time being. I chose to spend money on only replacing the first tyre. It was perhaps not a wise decision.

But not replacing both tyres, except the most urgent one -- the front tyre a month ago, was purely a financial compulsion which I could not explain to wife or anyone but only my mother understood it immediately.  

.

The Kurta

By Sandeep Datta, May 6, 2013

It was Sunday, a comparatively lenient day for most of the people, even in media. The general mood is to enjoy a feeling of half-day off, with friends and foes in office alike.  So I arrived in office, wearing a fluorescent green Kurta instead of formal shirt.

For the last two years, I have developed a special liking for Kurtas. As I have delivered my three public speeches wearing them. Also, Kurtas offer a special or distinct feeling, whether one wears them with a trouser or jeans.

But I never realised it was not just the Kurta but its colour which could evoke so much response. I failed to understand it a few days ago when my news editor, an affectionate and friendly lady, wore a orange coloured-Kurta. 

People termed it 'saffron', a general connotation for being related to Sangh's off shoots instead of the first colour of national flag. But it was actually looking very bright and appealing on that lady who always greets all with a genuine smile. 

Yesterday, it happened to be my turn. I wore the fluorescent green for the first time in office. I had actually bought it for the environment day in our locality. I wore it as it was sweltering heat outside and I preferred looking a bit 'green' like leaves. lols. 

But I was surprised to see the kind of mixed reactions I received in office.

Since the fluorescent colour strikes the eyes, for not being worn usually except by the residents from North East India due to their love for colours, it evoked varied responses. 

A girl from Bihar, the state known for Madhubani art, looked shocked when she said: "Oh MY GOODD!" and a male colleague, in lighter vein, described it to be a "Nimbu" and another one said "Chamkiley". 

But there were others who liked it and put their first reaction to the colour in a quite dignified way -- "Bhai, wah! This is the beauty of fluorescent green. It is not green", "Badhiya hai sahab", "Kya baat hai janab, wadiya hai". 

The day passed on and individuals kept coming and expressing their sense of surprise in different ways. 

But I observed one thing through all the reactions. At times how much it can matter, the way we react to something or about somebody at times. 

While dragging my punctured motorbike to the nearest petrol pump after calling it day in office, I brooded over the variety of reaction I got. 

Though I give a damn to others' sense of liking or disliking when it comes to what I am wearing or doing, I still kept smiling over their responses. 

Having topped in textile designing from J.D.Inst.of Fashion Technology and having learnt over 50 designing and painting styles, I always take pride and mostly appreciated for the scheme of colours I apply in anything. 

So I never allow it to matter whenever someone suggested anything related to 'colours' to me. Rather, I always smile at their limitation to first understand and then react about one's joy of celebrating life with colours. 

If I have to, I take the advise of a selective few whom I value for their choice of colours. But, certainly, not of just any other person.

It surprises me to notice how most of the people fail to observe the natural surroundings. They come into this world and just pass way, hardly ever taking out time to see, feel and enjoy the vast beauty that is spread around our world. 

Perhaps, they need to learn that each colour has its distinct appeal. It is the occasion, the mood, the season, the environment, and, most importantly, the state of mind that influence senses in our selection of colours of anything or the dress for the day. 

Regards

Chaudhary Sandeep Datta

The Attacking Eagles

By Sandeep Datta, April 16, 2013

It's been over a month since I first heard of an eagle attack in our area. It was my niece  who was attacked by an eagle on her eyes. 

The 11-year-old was luck enough that her eyes were not gauged out by the hard and razor-edged nails of the bird. When I asked her why she was attacked, she told me having standing on the balcony on the second floor, close to which is the tree where the eagles have been birth to the offsprings. 

I realised the girl was probably standing on the wrong place and could be doing some mischief. But then three days later I became the eagles' next target. 

While standing on the balcony on the first floor, I felt as if I had been slapped by a sheet, bigger than my mouth's size. For once, I could not realise what hit me. Then suddenly I saw an eagle sitting on the roof's edge at our neighour's house.

I realised it was nothing but that eagle. I smiled and went inside the drawing room from the balcony, feeling it was an improper place to stand these days. 

My curiosity later took me to the balcony on the second-floor where my niece had been attacked. I noticed the eagle had given birth to two baby-eagles. I felt delighted  while keeping my another eye on any possible attack from any side. 

The wooden stick I was carrying with me while standing on the balcony had given me strength to stand there for some time. 

I had made up my mind to finish off the enemy eagles at the earliest. 

My younger sister had even warned me against that, saying how could I kill birds even when they were just trying to ensure safety for their kids in natural way. 

I said I could not risk any child's eyes or harm to any any neighbhourhood child by such freak eagles. But her logic appealed to me and I quite the idea then and there.

The next day I found a beak of an eagle in our park in which a 30-feet tree, which has the eagles' nest, is located. It did not take me long to understand it was nothing but a revengeful act of eagle-parents, attacking to secure their lone baby-eagel in the nest.

I felt sad for the poor parents and left. I returned home and narrated that to my mother who also felt perturbed for the poor eagle parents.

After nearly three weeks today (April 16), I was talking to my neighbour at the first-storey balcony while holding my friend's call in one hand. I was appreciating his child's cricketing skills and enthusiasm. 

Suddenly, something huge hit my face making me duck at once.

It was an eagle once again. The neighbour said it happened so suddenly that even he could not realise an eagle was coming from such a height towards me. I escaped without any major damage except a shock and a feeling of slap over half of my face once again. 

But I turned around and looked up, towards the tree where the nest was. I was stunned to see that the corpse of a grown up baby-eagle was hanging from the thread of a kite. 

I felt very sorry for the poor couple eagles. They tried their best to protest their kids for so long. But all in vain. Even if the humans were not responsible but surely the eagle parents had their natural right to express anguish and spirit to avenge the deaths in personal world.

I could empathise the eagles' pain, having undergone the same experience twice for my children.

MDNIY, a stupid world

By Sandeep Datta

I recently came across a strange world of yoga. I cannot blame anyone but myself for entering into it by my mistake.

It so happened that I was eagerly looking of a change of organisation for quite some time, especially since being married. I chance upon a job opportunity in Morarji Desai National Institute of Yoga (MDNIY), an autonomous organisation under Department of AYUSH, Ministry of Health as Media Consult.

During interview, MDNIY's Director mentioned on three occasions that my role would be of an Executive Director or 'Vice Director' in this organisation. I smiled on all these occasions, thinking it is just a gratefulness of a man who believed I was of that much worth.

I joined this organisaton with quite excitement to witness a world away from stressful news world after a break of over 7 years. I was given a cabin and verbally assured that I was the in-charge of this section called Communication and Documentation section. I was told that I would be working with a lady colleague. My main job would be to take out the pending News Letter and Yoga journal for the institute, as it is required by Ministry to know about the happenings of the institute.

On the very first day I went across the institute with some sense of pride and joy of becoming a part of such fascinating place. The biggest attraction of it being the musuem. But it surprised me to notice everyone here was irritated and disapppointed to the hilt. There were others to whom any serios suggestion about the growth of this institute sounded like another poor and silly joke. They used to laugh away anything I would suggest could possibly take place and add to its much needed popularity.

It took me not much time to realise why everyone was either so scared or had develop a habit of laughing away everything. But what I came across was startling.

They all laughed at one person, the man who mattered the most in this institute---Dr. Ishwar V. Basavaraddi, the Director of MDNIY. At first I was quite surprised to see such a qualified and dedicated sounding person is laughed at by all. But I realised my ignorance gradually.

Dr. I. V. Basavarradi might have be some authority in practicing yoga asanas, but he is actually a person full of stupiditiies. That too of highest order. His very first pot-bellied appearance disapproves him to be the Director of National Institute of Yoga.

He conducts his authority as a schoolteacher in the institute. He views the120-odd students to all professionals working under his authority as shirkers or kamchors or persons who have come to him to learn basics of life and professional expertise.

The fact is he is full strange habits. Not wearing any sweater in the wintry mornings of December and instead wearing that in scorching heat of June is a strange feature, he is laughed at the most. But people in this organisation have been made to live with their finger on their lips. Everyone knows, but nobody speaks.

Humiliation and sense of growing inconfidence is something all from contractual to permanent staff has to live with.

The Director's role in running rather silently hiding the actual working style and happenings are worth investigation here.

The contractual staff is being exploited to the hilt of holding their salaries for three to four months, marking absent or issuing memos to the senior staff for being even five or ten minute late in office, forcing professionals do what is unexpected of them as official work is some of his qualities.

The most deserving are pushed to the margins and insulted on daily basis for no rhyme or reason. Doctors to yoga instructors, to administrative staff to even peons face it all and hence now learnt to laugh it off as the best way.

But under whose shadow such a Director has been given the powers to run a national institute certainly could be a big expose` any day.

I can simply say, MDNIY's Director, the biggest cartoon character I ever came across.

Our Child

By Sandeep Datta

Let’s spare a few moments for that kid who often becomes the central figure for exhailing our frustrations on. This poor child is just about to begin his first venture of life.

 He has dreams of his own. That is what inspires him to try himself for the very first time. His maiden voyage is going to be his first introduction with all the even and odds of a pragmatic life. Let him travel it.

While doing that , we have to put a curb on our intrusive behaviour while allowing him to try something distinctive. Ignoring that,We might spoil his joy of playing the game in his own style.

There is a possibility that we might have not been so romantic about cherishing our struggling days but let him have this romance with hard times. It’s his turn to feel that aroma.

He is trying to make a move to reach somewhere where we would have not even thought of reaching ,ever. May be his society requires that qualification of having traveled something really tough and with a different style. We have to accept this.We have to avoid doubting his method of approaching his destination.He can make it.

Probably, we think our idiot looking kid can never do anything worthwhile without following our guidelines.But, if we really want him to grow up then we will have to let him go on his own approach. 

He can. We have to believe it..

We have to  give him a few chances to let his dreams breath properly. Our trust in his convictions will certainly strengthen his Will power. We should allow him to go on his own, without disturbing him by imposing our outdated guidelines on his creative wits.Let him grow naturally.The life is the real tutor.

Our stress forming intrusive advises disrupt his pace of going further.Our perception regarding child’s success on the basis of just a few marks have no meaning to this computerized world. It grades each individual for his performance but not for his misleading scores of petty exams. 

The time has changed completely and our opinion about a successful child needs transformation. We don’t have to  feel challenged but it ‘s a time to let the new thoughts prosper in our family. This liberty will add to our  modernity in social circles.At least this freshness can come only  through fresh people in our family .Let’s welcome it .

No one can anticipate what our child of infinite intelligence been blessed by the almighty God. After all ,all ideas possess some meaning and purpose.If he shows some eagerness in trying his innocent ideas at a  platform which seems strange to us even then, give him some space to decorate them. 

He needs some time to make his movements take a fine shape.Just the way we need some time to develop our outlook.

 We have to put a pause to our attitude of comparing him to the other children’s brilliance.It’s completely discouraging and  create a demoralizing impact on oneself. Would we justify our own comparison with any legend, done by our own parents when we were claming to be Mr. Right?

Wasn’t that too much for us at that time? Sounds disturbing!  Yes, it happens with everyone and obviously , happening with our child too at present.So,showing our wisdom and maturity, we have to stop this habit.

   May be we are not aware to being a turning point for a child but at the least we can stop ourselves from becoming  an obstruction into our  child’s expedition.

He doesn’t need much from us but just a little affection and acceptance. If we won’t accept him with his all failures or little seeming success at the end of the day then who will? It’s only at this point that he longs for his  own people.

We have to prove our real love by standing on his side when somebody takes cracks on him for his dull shade of personality. He is our own blood. We  just have to believe in him.

He will make it to the top a little sooner or later . He will surely prosper, if not today then some time after.
All we have to do is Just To Keep the Faith!

Our daily life

(To be edited)

Our daily life intoduces us to varying  kind of folks. Some like us and to some we like. But,sometimes, We feel over excited to be with somebody sounding really likeminded..He pretends to be  decent  and he sometime succeeds in gaining our attention.He applies all the things that help him to prove that he’s  a nice lad with the complete know-how of  etiquette.

Soon he finds he has successfully succeeded in attracting  our attention. He pretends to be agreeing on most of our idiotic ideas.When we make a joke ,he is the first one to laugh , no matter, everybody laughs at us and him too. But we feel, at least  somebody of our similar foresightedness and  sharp wits is there to accept our opinion.We feel ,yes this is the man who understands us exactly.

Soon we also start giving affirmations on his strange views as a gesture of thanks for supporting us at our turn.We soon are in the process  of giving support to each others ideas even if we,ouselves, hardly understand their logic.

Though we both are treated to be jokers for introducing comic views in that gathering but backed by each other’s support we feel right on track.All this provokes us to shake hands with this buddy in a firm manner and we plan to meet him again and again. After all , we have found a person who understands us .
must attract him to spend a little more time in our nice sounding company.We start spending more and more time, initally,in knowing or rather listening wth deep interest what is his life style.day by day the  time goes on fine with him comfortably with him.

Streching  our eagerness more or more like a rubber we keep on enjoying his asociations . so we strt expressing  our feelings and  he gets the ‘Pass’ to enter our personal zone. The time keeps on moving with its usual pacebut,we don’t feel it. May be we get illusioned that this happy time is everlasting. 

After sometime we have given away ‘all rights reserved’ to the uninterrutted entry of somebody who has entered in our life as just a stranger met in a train. But we don’t questin his entries , probably, because we have made ourselves habitual of sharing our each emotin with him.

Soon, he is our closest buddy but we assume him taking as our best  friend . And,may be that’s why we do fear of reaching someday  to an end . We let him feel us as his ownseld  and boas of finding as confiding  a person as him. And, a day comes when we feel the nudgings of his behaviour. But, we continue not taking them into our sensitive mind. 

This innocence and carelessness of ua gies him a hold on our unmindful mind. Our this attitude let him take us for granted and we get more close to frequent nudgings of harsh words.
We still pretend not to even think of them because we prefer valuing the sacred principal of not getting rationl about frends.

 Resultnt whci, the situation gets worse perhaps becase we don’t with to darken the smudged line of ‘Limits;. So , one day, the decisive day arrive whn we really realize th neccesity and urgeny of re=dreawing  th line of one’s tresspassing limits.

We , somehow, alarm him but our humble seems to have fallen on deaf ears. We feel more irritated. For, our problem is not understood and our complaints are just ignored . All this encourages our mind set to take a big tough decision. We still try to avoid these emerging harsh thoughts but our’Friend ‘ don’t bother of it in anyway.He just continues to  get mor vulgar and uncaring toards our sensitve emotions of  basic humanly respect. And, some day , when he really crosses the las limit then our latent urge of protecting our self esteem emerges upfront. 

Resultant which , we  stretch our one leg behind and just kick him off. This way, he shouckingly comes to know about how it feels to realize ‘fuck off’

The Registration

(A short story)
By Sandeep Datta

That evening was an quite unusual evening for my new friend Subeer , an MBBS by degree but still unregistered to be called an offical Doctor.I still remember it was Tuesday, 7.50(evening).Usually, around this time my working friends visit my house for a little bit of chatting with each other.

I had just returned from my  office and was about to change clothes after chatting with girls on my PC for a few minutes. As I switched on my Computer,  a husky voice fell into my ears, ‘Sandeep’, ‘Sandeep’. My eye brows got raised thinking  who this daring fellow could be ,as ,hardly anyone had ever shouted my name that way?

 I came out of my room and looked down in the street , from the first floor of my house. It was dark there in the street , the reason, usual, the street light wasn’t working. Any way,  as I tried to concentrate on the shape of this visitor of mine ,he shouted once again ‘Sandeep’,Abe Khol’(open the door). 

This time I got him ,he was my new friend ‘Subeer’. I went down through stairs running very fastly fearing lest this visitor screams using any abuse in his sentence and my entire image in my colony should come down to zero. 

So, scared of loosing already little left reputation among neighbourhood  children, I
 opened the door.

 There he was. Standing with a smile and carrying a bag on his left shoulder. I extended my hand for a handshake with a smile on my face but without giving any attention to that he just entered my house. He  climbed stairs to reach my room.  

Though I felt awkward,but thinking he was my new friend I just didn’t mind. I closed the main door and followed him.

Soon  he was inside my room, situated on the first floor of my house.He turned back to me and asked ‘Isn’t Bedi here’?,


I said , ‘no, not yet, but what happened’? Cutting me in the middle of my sentence and stopping me from going further he enquired, ‘ Where that ass has gone today’?. I thought something was wrong with him today.In the next moment,I noticed, he was shaking a bit while standing. He was, perhaps,drunk I thought.

Anyhow,asked him to sit but my this suggestion fell on deaf ears. ‘No, where is Bedi?present him before me’, shouted Subeer. 

Fearing from his drunk state I said , ‘O.K-O.K sahib,sit for a minute’ and I looked out from my room towards Bedi’s room. 

Bedi is our common friend , an unemployed student Fashion Designer, lives  in a small rented house in my adjacent building on the third floor.His room is quite small for his 6’3 height but full of semi nude posters of fashion models and ,frankly speaking, I avoid going into his room of explosives.

Anyhow, I ran for  his room climbing all the steps to the third floor like a sprint race. Reaching there ,I was breathing asthmatically, obviously,the reason being I was  ordered to produce him at the earliest.


I found him standing pasting a few more posters on the wall ,I just held him from his wrist and dragged him with me., ‘Where , Where , Where you taking me to’? He kept on asking. ‘Let me at least shut my door if not lock it’,he pleaded ,but, I refused to listen anything.I just kept on pulling him with me like somebody kidnaps someone from his house.While running with him I told him Subeer was drunk and wanted to see him immediately. ‘ I didn’t know why?’I told him.

I was trembling with fear not just because Subeer was the first friend of mine, entering my home in a drunk condition but the fear of being noticed by parents was literally shaking me from head to bottom.For,the rules of my home don’t permit that.

Even the thought of getting caught with such a friend was frightening for me . The reason being that ours was a Hindu,Brahmin family where even mentioning of egg or liquor was considered as a sin.

So, in any eventuality, if my friend got caught, then it wouldn’t be him but me to be kicked out of my house.And,I didn’t want that to happen to me in such a cold night.

O my Lord! Even the thought of  that scene,me , standing outside my house in cold and begging to be taken back was  very awesomely scary.

I was feeling scared just as much as any teenage boy does when gets caught red handed by his parents while watching a pornographic movie.No, No,No this shouldn’t happen to me’, I kept on mumbling to myself while running back to my room with Bedi.

Alas! I reached my room with Bedi still arrested in my hands. I pushed him in and shouted, ‘here’s your ‘ Bedi Ass’. By that time,Subir was watching Fashion T.V keeping my room’s door wide open.Bomb after Bomb,I felt, he was planting for me. 

As he  listened my voice, turned back with a broad smile on his face and while standing up from my bed, he shouted with joy, ‘Congratulate me Buddies I have become a registered doctor today’. For a moment,I forgot all of my fears and raised my arms imitating Bedi towards our registered doctor-friend,Dr. Subeer.

Doctor sahib embraced us both though it’s another thing that I got squeezed between both of these huge bodies.Anyway, I didn’t feel that much.For, it generally  happens to me because of my short height.I am five foot high.Please don’t laugh!

Trying to stand still, Subeer  showed us , by acting himself, the way he would be called by other folks from that day on, ‘Doctor Sahib’instead of ‘Subeer Bhai’.

After all that clone Jokeracting, he said , ‘Bedi, open this bag, look what I have got for you’.Bedi,sensing something exciting,unzipped the bag quickly. There he brought out a fresh bottle of whisky with his eyes wide open because it was English brand.And,that was his favorite one.

Just getting it’s first glimpse,I don’t know how numerous wrinkles emerged on my forehead with in a second. ‘Oh my God!the main bomb still remaining to  explode’,was my immediate reaction.And why shouldn’t have I thought that way,after all, it would be ultimately me standing outside in such a cold. ‘No, No, No, I should stop them in some way’.I thought.

Thank God!  Bedi wasn’t drunk that day ,by chance, and sensing that, I looked up towards his face. He immediately understood my condition because he knew my family’s rules and regulations as well.

Thank God ! he got my point that day and saved me from the certain troubles.And, persuading Subir for going to his own room Bedi took him there.

As for the sake of company and a co-partner in the hour of celebration I had to go with him to his room.Soon all the three of us were in his room.The mood was totally galla and the stereo was switched on and its volume, raised to the loudest.

Now,the bottle was opened and three pegs were made.One for Bedi,One for Dr Subeer himself and the last one raised towards me. I just refuted it making an excuse that I didn’t drink.Listening my excuse Subir laughed heartily saying , ‘you don’t drink’.Ha! Ha! Ha! Sandeep is still a baby’. 

That didn’t hurt me in any way as I was used to of that kind of remarks for my being a teetotaller. And,saying that,subeer had his first peg making a ‘bottoms up’ with Bedi.

Within a few minutes he had his three pegs inside and then I asked him, ‘ so how it does it feel after becoming a Registered Doctor Sahab’?

He paused for a minute ,perhaps, searching for the precise words to answer me how agonisingly he spent the last two years in unemployment even after getting an MBBS degree.His eyes welled up with tears.For, even the mere mention of that period of sitting idle was frightening  for him.He spoke in a broken voice, ‘ Sandeep that was too much, really too much for me. 

Only I know how agonisingly I passed my each day of the year answering all the hooting gestures of so called friends and relatives back at home, he explained while tears kept falling down from his eyes.

This was the first time that I was watching a grown up man like him weeping like a child in nostalgia. I could feel his state of mind which was of a man feeling completely Relieved after proving to everyone around him that yes, he had the real guts of becoming a Registered Doctor.

That day he could retire into his bed without fearing of the occasional nightmares of ending up as a flop despite striving so hard in career.

On that day, I returned home very touched,somehow,feeling his pain in my own heart. I asked myself, ‘don’t we turn completely savage and cruel when we laugh at somebody’s unsuccessful period of life’.I felt, we all needed a bit of Introspection!Don’t we?

Getting Employed

By Sandeep Datta (needs to be edited) 

Our academics are our only recognition only when we are into that.Later or sooner we pass out that phase of life too. For a few weeks or months sometimes we are still pointed, cheerfully , for our academic merits . But here those months get passed and we are asked about so many things besides that academic stuff.

 We start realizing that our academic qualification or merits got to be of some monetary worth. 

We start looking for such an employer who would hire us for our papers of distinctions. Soon, we get this message our papers of distinctions. Soon, we get this message that the market of employment expects us to be professionally qualified too. 

We say O.K. to ouselves and once again , go a few more years in professional courses . And, there too, we collect a few more valuable sounding sheets of papers , carrying our name and grades . We feel quite high about , ouselves and why shouldn’t we? After all we have grabbed high grades .

Anyhow, we once  again go to the employment market with high spirits but…..
But there are so many already standing in queue , even carrying heavy folders than us. Even then, keeping our spirits high with stubborn attitude we try. 

We search daily into those paper-ads which rarely reflect any room for our kind of candidates.But still,our each morning begins with a new hope. The ads that arise even little bit of hope are hovered upon by hundreds of our unemployed fellows. After all, we are not the only ones who haunt for an would be employer. Any way , somehow we manage to get shortlisted for interviews. And there, either a well suited-booted man awaits us or somebody pretending to be highly qualified one is relaxes in a chair to decide our future showing hardly any interest in us.
And , the very first question is the immortal and omnipresent one which is about our Experience in that field . Surprisingly , this question is hanging on the interviewee’s lips even when the ad might have asked for Freshers.Believe me, that’s absolutely true.
Even after winning in these battles we have to sign the list of those terryfying rules which are nothing but a written acceptance of submission to our employer from almost every angle of freedom.In other way , these rules our a way of reminding and keeping us realized, everyday, that our employer is not just another man but a little God with full authority on us.
When we read them our heart straightaway holds us back to not sign but on the same time our mind reminds us of the people eagerly and anxiously awaiting for us to get into employment.We feel close enough towards bringing a sigh of relief to those depressed souls who are there ,inside our homes, waiting for just that news.
We feel the opportunity.
At the same time the cruel memories of our so called ‘own people’s sarcastic words and hootings compell us to be fast in signing in without thinking much. …………………..