Onkar Nath Datta leaves behind a legacy of kindness for all

By Sandeep Datta

Onkar Nath Datta, who left us all in his family for the heavenly abode recently following complications associated with a rare and serious autoimmune disorder called Guillain-Barre Syndrome, was a man who inspired one and all in many ways. 

Having celebrated a life worth being proud of by his loved ones, he breathed his last on the morning of June 8, 2014 at his house in Rani Bagh, Delhi. He was hospitalised at Fortis for a few months. 

Born to Smt. Sushila Kumari Datta and Choudhary Ram Avtar Datta on March 3, 1948 in Datiyan village of Punjab’s Gurdaspur district, Shri Onkar Nath had his early education there but later came to Delhi. 

Having graduated in commerce from Delhi University’s Hansraj college, he also did his post graduation from the same university. Later, he did I.C.W.A and MBA degree (Financial Management) from Annamalai University.

He encouraged and tutored several I.C.W.A, and Chartered Accountancy aspirants and other graduates without charging any fees, describing it as his social and moral duty. 

Shri Onkar Nath earned his share of fame in life in cricket since college days as an all rounder. He played with many top-class Ranji players. Later, he joined Gas Authority of India Ltd. (GAIL). He captained its Delhi team and All India team as well and been a member of Sports Control Board at GAIL. Later, he was promoted to the post of Senior Manager (Finance and Accounts). 

As a player and a captain he played for Rani Bagh Cricket Club, Hans Raj College, University of Delhi, and Ministry of Defense.

He was also associated with promotion of Mohyal Housing and welfare association at Mohyal colony, Gurgaon. He was executive member and joint sectary of Mohyal housing and welfare association and Secretary, Rani Bagh Mohyal sabha. 

Today, Shri Onkar Nath is survived by wife Smt. Sharda Datta, son Mahesh Datta, daughter-in-law Swati Datta and grandson Shiven, daughter Seema Vaid, son-in-law Rakesh Vaid and grandsons Mayank and Vipul Vaid. 

Having been a true friend and good colleague to many, Shri Onkar Nath also lived as an incredible son, husband, father, brother and guardian to many. The Datta family has donated Rs. 1000/- to GMS in his sweet memory.  

Barun Da...remembering the man missed by all

By Sandeep Datta

June 16, 2014 , 6.25 p.m.

Some people are simply unforgettable. Barun Haldar , whom everyone (only boys) affectionately called "Barun Da" but girls addressed as "BooRoon" with love has been one such person for me in journalism. 

Perhaps, he actually enjoyed being called like that by different genders during his years in Asian News International (ANI) news agency in Delhi. I remember how he habitually corrected every newcomer girl the moment she first called him "sir".  He would say: "No 'sir' for me. Either call me 'Grand Pa' or 'BOOO RUN'." "Now say it again: 'Booo Roon' not 'Barun'.  

Sometimes it looked as if these pretty girls, in their early 20s, chose talking to him for so long only to make the boys, envy of their proximity and comfort level with such a giant media figure like him. After all, he was a top-class voice over artiste; giving his voice for news items and other TV programmes in ANI after his illustrious career in All India Radio (AIR).

He also earned a lot of fame in AIR for his expertise developed because of his love for nuances of English language, especially, the pronunciation. He once told me that anyone could be relieved from his job as a Radio Jockey during his AIR days, if he found him or her mispronouncing even a single word even quite late in the night. 

He once said Shashi Tharoor, of the UN fame and Congress' disrepute, played in his lap during childhood. I believed his claim   

Therefore I always wondered what those barely college pass-outs would be 'discussing' with an intellectual like him. And, what on earth was letting him allow them steal his precious time.  But I always noticed that he too enjoyed gossiping. But Barun Da never uttered anything against the company. It was part of his smartness while conversing under the roof of the company.  

Barun Da always held his former boss of AIR and later ANI's Editor-in-Chief  I.Ramamohan Rao in high regard. Rao sahab, a former media adviser to prime minister Indira Gandhi, Rajiv Gandhi, and P.Narsimha Rao, has been my actual mentor in journalism, especially feature writing.

It was only much later that I found almost all girls used to 'bitch about ANI, salaries, and some of them would even discuss their latest crush or even family problems with him. Obviously, he enjoyed so much faith of everyone that all considered him really coooooooool. 

I would always hear a lot about him from others that this man is this much great, cool, lovable, wow and all other adjectives being said in admiration of his personality.  So my natural curiosity overwhelmed me to ensure that my seat was closest to his. Having read human behaviour and biographical books for about six-seven years before taking to journalism, it was quite natural for me to develop curiosity for an interesting personality like him. 

It was more like a little boy approaching a popular hero and trying his best to observe his every move with excitement and amazement. The objective was to understand his life-size personality and charm.  

Between our seats, there was a third person "Ganjoo sahab". Both of them used to talk to each other a lot. And, mostly Barun da used to ask something about news developments just as the occurred on TV screens installed on the wall near their seats. And, he would give his own unusual viewpoint. 

Ganjoo sahab, an expert on Kashmir affairs and solid journalist, would always explain this happened because of that and "take my words for that Barun Da.....ye pagal hain Congress wale". Both would keep betting on any move of the government or the opposition BJP. Though it's a fact that no matter what....nobody ever cherished even a single toffee or cup of tea out of their 'win' or 'loss' in the name of so called daily 'bets'.

I used to act as an onlooker who would just smile whenever Barun da would turn towards me, expecting me to support his words in their arguments. I disappointed him most of the times in their arguments.

Soon he started describing me as as pro-BJP and anti-Congress person. So when Ganjoo sahab left ANI, showing middle finger to his immediate boss, it was just Barun da and me. I felt delighted. It would be only me and him for discussions in spare time! Yahooo!

Barun da was also very fond of talking to Vaibhav, a highly decent person and handsome anchor. They would always converse in English and discuss scripts and pronunciations. I always thought Vaibhav also enjoyed his company a lot....and it used to make me jealous whenever they went for tea-break at 5.00 and dinner at 7.30 in the evening. They never invited me to the cafeteria to join their discussions.

But still I was happy most of the time, Barun da had none other than me to discuss hardcore political developments. I admit that I even started studying newspapers quite seriously only to be prepared to talk to him in the office time. I was into feature writings so political news was of least importance to me professionally in those days. But still I would read papers religiously… only to be fully prepared to answer his criticism of the BJP folks and even Hindu traditions.

He branded me BJP man. And, he would invariably ask me to owe responsibility or explain statements of BJP leaders or even firebrand Vishwa Hindu Parishad leaders like Praveen Togadia. When Babri-Ram Janambhoomi verdict of the Supreme Court was read out, all greeted me, except him. lols. It was all due to his public projection of me. Frankly, I enjoyed whenever he felt irritated or angry about BJP. I knew the moment he would turn around from the TV screen, I would be held ‘guilty’ for entire BJP.    

       

But one day he gave me a rare insight of his hidden self. I remember once I went on a 10-day pilgrimage to seek blessings of seven incarnations of Goddess Vaishno in Himachal Pradesh and Jammu. On my return, he surprised me about his value for Hindu Gods when he said: "Sann..dippp, will you give me just a bit of "Dhool" (dust) from under your feet since you have returned after having an audience of highly revered Devis." I was pleasantly shocked. I never thought he actually held such a deep regard for Goddesses, as I always found him criticising traditional Hindu rituals being practiced blindly in India.

The incident shook my false sense of pride in observation. It left me thinking, actually how much there was still left to understand about this little explored Barun da, the evergreen man of different shades.

Celebrating life through Photography (Part I)

By Sandeep Datta, May 28, 2014

Never thought anything could be equally charming and delightful the way writing feels to a short story writer by heart and journalist by profession like me. But photography proved me wrong.

Having learnt a bit of designing and painting or achieving a bit in badminton, cricket or kabaddi in sports, before my late 20s to late 30s in journalistic world, I feel I was born for photography and writing. This is the reason I have developed keenness to explore photography a bit seriously than any hobbyist.

There are so many reasons that one should take to photography. Most important of such reasons being it is the best activity for those who wish to enjoy life to the fullest like a unique celebration of life.

Photography opens up a universe of happy moments for anyone who wishes to explore or do something different, something new, or something distinct every time. There is so much to learn and explore that one finds just one life is not enough and craves for more.

By the time we manage to click satisfactory pics, we feel why didn't we start much earlier in life to stretch our span of photographing lot more than we have. Still, one must feel blessed that he or she took to photography and turned a new person overnight.

The art of photography offers something unique for anyone. No matter how much accomplished or not so successful we have been in other forms of livelihood or challenging careers, photography has something for almost everyone to learn.

It involves a hug scope to develop, to recreate and to wow the world around oneself with regular practice. Interestingly, mere a few days or weeks enables the inquisitive mind to capture anything ordinary and represent it extraordinarily.

From grandparents' wooden stick or broken glasses, old fountain pen or time piece or  an iron of 1950s, or even any piece of age-old crockery from the storeroom or father's first scooter to the dead tree near one's house or just any flower you come around during a walk, anything can be turned into an invaluable piece of art with an artistic click. All it requires is "an eye to recognise the hidden beauty".

Photography offers so much that a life looks too small of a time to collect it all and use it. But surely, just clicking photographs with a costly camera doesn't make you a good photographer. One needs to learn this art step by step.

   Be it the most recommended "study of light and shades" by observation, or  "learning to see" much before clicking things around, or the need to differentiate between the main subject and other things "worth inclusion or exclusion in a shot's composition", or  the decision to realise juxtaposition in a scene, or "the story in a scene", or even the significance of a gesture or story behind a person's reaction visible on one's face -- everything is worth a photographer's observation.

Why not say it than regret it all your life

By Sandeep Datta

   

Sometimes it is best to just say it rather keep regretting it for the rest of the life. I realised it while returning from my last day of this week's night shifts the Monday (Sep 22, 2013). 

It so happened that for a very long time I waited, waited, and waited to click a  particular old baba near my house. He lives in a small hut built on Hindu Rao hospital's land. 

One can see through his tiny makeshift house only while returning from the hospital, as it gets covered or hidden due to a long banyan and other trees on the side of the main road, which leads people into the hospital premises. 

But the baba has a distinct appeal for any portrait photographer or painter. His face always remain covered with a thick silver-coloured 'jungle' of hair. 

And, most importantly, he also maintains long hair stretching till his waist. He keeps them tied in a hairdo form but keeps it placed in the middle of his head, offering him a look of any highly accomplished ascetic. He leaves his hair open for some time everyday to let them get dried after taking a bath.

I always felt drawn to his looks but couldn't gather enough courage to approach him for taking his photo. As I always felt my capturing him through a camera might prove rubbing an old man utterly wrong way. Who knows he may even start throwing choicest of expletives before all passersby and blame me for trespassing. 

Well...well..well...though I had tried once or twice to click him from a distance without letting him notice me, every time I failed miserably to click him properly.

Today...don't know from where I gathered some courage and stopped my bike a little away from him. I notice in the side mirror that he was sitting just perfectly. 

With none of his admirers or so call patients around after a long time, I get down from my bike and suddenly went straight to him and asked if I could take his photo.

But immediately I felt I had framed my request improperly. And, it could mean rubbing him the wrong way. I thought I should have rather said: "Babaji would you mind if I took just one photo." Any how, the 'mistake' had been committed. And, I had no choice but to keep my fingers crossed and wait for his most likely "Noooooo".

But..to my amazement, he said: "Yes, yes. You can." O my God! I just couldn't believe my luck today. For, here was a man I hesitated to approach all these years for one click. And, it proved to be such a foolish hesitation all this time. 

I clicked about three close up pictures of him as per my long nurtured desired and two others as per his desire; along with his pamphlet stating that he could treat so many medical problems free of cost in just five days! 

But on my way to home, I realised how uselessly sometimes we keep hesitating all our lives in speaking our mind to others and expressing the innocent wish. 

    

Surely, sometimes it is best to follow you heart and just blurt it out !!!! Isn't it? 

By Sandeep Datta

Indian system makes mockery of gang-rape victim

Is woman modesty so cheap to be outraged? Yes. Does Indian system take a gang-rape so lightly? Yes. Does anyone in the government has a young daughter? No. Is there actually any 'powerful woman' to feel the Janta Janardan's pulse and do something exemplary about it? You must be joking.

It looks our judiciary did not understand what every daughter, sister, wife and mother meant when they supported the anti-rape protests in Delhi. It seems the law ministry never felt the pulse of the public. It seems none in the government could sense what it meant when thousands of children, students, and women along with men were protesting for days in the chilling winter of December at the Rajpath.

It has been proved our Indian system, in entirety, failed to empathise why people of all ages hit the roads despite water cannons and police's brutality to protest. 

Was that all to get barely three years for meting out savagery to a girl, who could be anyone's family member tomorrow (including any minister's or even judicial official's family). Was all those big words of 'exemplary' , 'getting justice', 'tears in eyes' , or 'pained' and every bull shit word to show compassion was meaningless? Shame, Shame, Shame on such a disgusting judgement and the mockery of public sentiments by government. It looks Indians will have to offer a taste of Indian Spring on the lines of Arab Spring to the existing system to ring the bell. Or, the government and judiciary have shown public to resort to street justice from now onwards?????? Who will trust them now?: Sandeep Datta.

Thinking of you...on Friendship Day

On Friendship Day...I think of each and every person who turned my friend and  influenced my life in a special way.

As these have been those extraordinary souls who shaped my life, who inspired me to move ahead despite everything, who supported me in the most distressing times, who felt my pain as their pain and prayed for me in temples and churches for me, who prepared and brought special meals...Rajma-rice, Idli-Chattni, Sambhar in their lunch boxes and  ....Upma and Rasam and even Paranthas... when I was compelled to survive for months on just Maggie and a cup of tea.

I miss all those who always bothered to ask me...Kaise ho....when nobody did...who either played with me: defeating me or let me beat them.. or simply appreciated my performances in badminton to kabaddi...cricket to martial art bouts when I had none to celebrate it with at home or around....

I remember my days spent with those during my first job in a magazine, when we used to work and enjoy meals together.

I miss all those who bunked classes with me after recess during school days for years and suffered teachers' reprimand or punishment in class or assembly with sticks the following day. But they still kept silent about who was their leader in mass bunking...

I cannot forget all those from Bhartiya Vidya Bhavan who worked for days and nights during post graduation and M.Phil days...I also badly miss all those who worked for long hours during textile designing days at J.D.Institute of fashion technology.

I thank all those who are no more colleagues but rather feel as a Family of Friends in my life from ANI..including my core group and ....I miss my lunches and tea-times with my buddy-cum-Punjabi bhra and other selective and affectionate friends from ANI's Print section...and especially those colleagues who are still in touch with me like brothers or guides ....

I value my that very colleague from Assam who is today more than a friend...and another...from the same state...who has just married but did not bother to inform :).

But most importantly ..I remember and thank those Three Idiots...of my college life who believed in me during college days while living in my neighbourhood even when I had lost all hope to even learn Angrezi due to being a government school student who had his education till graduation in Hindi medium....for enabling me to become what I am today. I dedicate my everything to your care, affection and belief in me.

Thank you very much each one of you for letting me realise how a life turns a true celebration of life due to friends.  With Love and Affection: Sandeep Datta.

Celebrate birthday with someone who genuinely loves

By Sandeep Datta 

It's been 19 years since I lost any charm to celebrate birthdays. It happened after I invited a girl but she failed to turn up. The following year she got married to someone she loved. And, I vowed never to celebrate it. 

But the incident that she did not come and spend that day with me on my birthday hurt me so deeply that I lost any interest in it forever.

But later it made me brood why, how and with whom we need to celebrate this day when we were given birth. 

Over the years, I noticed how strangely people celebrate their birthdays with those who are not even bothered for them. It looks so awkward being greeted by the one who have no affectionate feelings. The one who do have such feeling for us need to wait for any particular day to send their greetings or wish us fortune or success in life. 

Especially in offices, the main concern is Oyee PARTYYY! And, it makes it so bad. A person's special day is reduced to just a samosa-chai party or something like that and no concern in at least greeting him with a heartiest joy. 

All these years, my idea of celebrating not just birthday but any special moment kept evolving in different ways due to various influences. 

From fake friends to so called well wishers cum back-biters or unconcerned classmates or colleagues or just anyone who is least concerned about how we are doing the entire year, all pretend being happy for formality to greet. Who likes it?

Instead, the real joy lies in being greeted by those who actually feel for us everyday. I love being greeted by my closest friends, relatives, relatives and even special former or present-day colleagues. Their every word makes my day. I treasure it.

But I feel on one's birthday, it is one's mother who deserves to be wished. Since it is she who needs to feel how special that day was when she successfully delivered us. 

No matter what but the birthday boy or girl can really make the day extra special by thanking her in an affectionate way for the giant role she played over the years in their lives. 

Going to her, asking her to narrate how it's been for her to bring us up could be wonderful. This could be real gift for her that we at least remember her importance.

Is it too much to expect from ourselves to always feel grateful to our parents who  made our existence possible? And, for the kind of role they played in our lives.

Without parents we could have never existed. Isn't it so strange that most of us turn 

so absorbed in our career, studies, enjoyments and challenges that we forget our parents's actual importance in our world.  

Sometimes it looks so saddening to see the way we treat our parents as just ATM machines. Many of us don't mind staying away from them for weeks, months, and at times years for the sake of career. 

Isn't is shameful for many of us who leave our parents to fend for themselves in old age? While celebrating how many us think of spending the evening or the day just with parents and make them feel extra special at least for that day of remembrance? 

After marriage, the possibility of even recalling or making our better half realise our parents' worth in our existence, ends in no time?  

It is difficult to imagine how most of us or today's kids feel when they look at large billboards showing photos of parents bidding goodbye to children leaving for abroad?  What comes to mind when a wife or servant serves food with hardly any love in it like our mothers?

Why do we forget the way parents brought us up, the way they tolerated us despite our stupidities, failures, embarrassing moments?  How they would have managed when we used to be most irritating whole day and did not let our mothers sleep even for an hour after schooltime despite fever or exhausting day? 

Why do we forget who used to dress up us for school or prepare us whole day before or after school time for tests or just for the next day?  What makes us forget that whatever we know today could not have been possible had it not been for our father's sacrifices of his personal enjoyments or mothers' help and support?

Today, many of us may look at our parents like individuals good for nothing or someone who are always poking their nose in our 'personal' life or someone who better mind their own business even if it means waiting for our safe return from college or office on time? Why don't we realise we need not make our parents' old age a punishment to live alone  and suffer in silence?  

But hats off to those who value parents everyday even when they are no more in a condition to be of any help. 

On our birthdays, perhaps, it could be best gift and greeting for our parents if we could spare just a few moments for them when they could feel being our true friends, advisers, and special caretakers or simply our parents and not a burden anymore.

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.  

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