Wee Hour Dreams Turn Out True !

Finding me reclining unwary that frightful night, the sleep had overpowered me.

Was it a sleep or was I half awake when in a world different and dreadful found I myself !

The two figures with faces so dreadful and spear like tools matching their look suddenly appeared.
Had they come, as they avered, to carry the command of their master, the lord of Death.

‘‘Move away,’’ Cried I to them as fearful they looked, “Why ye have so appalling a form ?”

 “To those whose life is full of sins, surfeit and inhuman deeds, do we come in the form same”, thus  answered they.


“But to the virtuous man for the sake of humanity who lived, look we so enchanting and suave.
  Full is your life with sins we had but to come in the form most frightening,”  grumbled the duo.


So to take lifebreath out of me had the ugliest figures come, this now I had realized. 

Poking and whisking with their spear like tools, the pain untellable they gave to me.


Counting, recounting and reminding my sins, utter torment they poured on me.

 Reaching at the acme of pain and torture, hurled they me into the world another.

Before me  now  was a kingly face with the crown so fascinating adored he on his head. 

But soon those two detestable figures turned up again with same the face same the tools.


"Carrying your command this sinner we brought out of life to you,” said they in unison so harsh. 

And begin  now  theyto sing and recount my sins which outnumbered the virtues had I done.


“You are damned,” Pronounced the Death with the voice robust, “ Hurl him into the Dungeon".
Getting thus the decree from the Master, the two figures rushed forward to obey and fling me.


But startled  woke I up by the voice of my wife as she was there with a cup of tea. 

Hugged and clasped I her and thanked for saving me from those callous hands so unkind.


While sip by sip took I tea with mind elsewhere aghast and shocked.

Was it a dream or was I half awake !
Might it come true as had I had it in the wee hours of morning !

The Time That Was

The time came and passed ! How, not I know.
Unnoticed slipped it away as movement of a cat.
But memoirs remain and return 
As etched they are to my mind.
Indelible they are as the wounds of unrequitted love.
Naieve was the childhood and modest the school.
No hankypanky nursery, no LKG nor the KG,

But straight It was into grade 1st after six.
Brilliant called me my pals, same endorsed the teachers.
Always first I stood but no celebrations, no party of today.
Rustic was life, no chocolate, no icecream,
It was only baked cornbread with gurh.
Darned clothes, darned shoes, yet no malice, no worry.
Rains did drench us but no pain, no illness, only play and gay.
Bat Handmade and rags stitched into compact orb,
Thus was cricket ball with forsaken stump our wickets.
Holiday was the turn to take the cow and bulls to the woods
To return at dusk with the herd retaining the number same.
Such were the days of gaiety and play,
Which I relish to remember and say.

Honesty Pays!

We often say that the modern world is not an ideal place for the honesty-lovers as corruption and dishonesty have become the order of the day. But, I feel that come what may honesty has always its own reward irrespective of age and environ. Honesty pays or even if it doesn't, it has its own gift - a solace that is not easy to attain and retain in this wicked world of materialism.
It so happened that I was to go to Shimla from Kumarsain. Getting no bus from the bus stand, I had to walk to the nearby high way. While I was ambling to and fro waiting for the bus, suddenly, a white gypsy stopped just before me and the driver offered lift to Shimla. I, with two or three other guys boarded the gypsy, which the driver told, belonged to some public representativel.
On the way, I was ruminating as to how much money the fellow was going to extort from me. Meanwhile, some two guys got down the veichle. They did not give any money to the driver nor did the latter ask for. I took it for that the guys might be known to the driver.
later the driver offered to drop us at the DC's office at shimla. I happily approved the Idea. He dropped us at the DC's office. While getting down the gypsy, I took out a hundred-rupee note and pushed it towards the driver. To my surprise the fellow said," Janab, Muzhe haram ke paise de kar paap na karao." (" Sir. please don't allure me to commit a sin by offering me unjustified money.") Hearing this from him, I was overwhelmed and I saluted him in the heart of my heart. He could have easily mustered about Rs 1,000 on that day, but perhaps his soul was alive. I often am reminded of the incident and it fills me with reverence for that driver and I would salute him as many times as I could.
On other occasion, I was taking my kids along with my wife to the hospital. We boarded a bus to the high way and got there down to get another to the hospital. My wife suddenly realised that the small lovely purse she had bought  for our little daugter Aparajita, was missing. After a brief husband-wife brawl, the matter was forgotten.
On one fine morning an unknown fellow tracked us down and told that he had got the purse that, he thoght, was Aprajita's. My little daughter dannced gleefully while my faith in honest way of living further got cemented. I had no reason to think against the thinking- Honesty pays!

Names Have a Lot to Say

'' What is in name---------------''- The cliche of William Shakespeare had never troubled me nor had I ever thought  of being at variance with it until rececently when I stumbled over a write-up of a blogger on nomenclature associated with this old and well acknowledged adage. How great a connoisseur Shakespeare was as a delineator of human soul, I don't dare to touch upon the issue. But the very cliche irks me when I see the world going berserk for the sake of coining appropriate names for their newly borns.
Writers have put in huge efforts to publish books containing names. The proud father or mother don't lose any opportunity of publicising among relatives to look for some lovely and appropriate names for their child so that they may choose the best from among the best conveyed to them.  Purohita, on his part,  does his best to approve the name that would lead the child to fame with that specific name. Whether the child gets name and fame is another matter, but the Purohita gets plenty to make his pocket heavier.
How foolish Shalespeare was to give such a naught to 'names'. In the old time people used to give name the new borns by associating him to the month or day he was born - 'Shukru' (born on Friday) Manglu ( born on Tuesday) or Fagnhu ( born in the Hindi calender month of  Fagun). But now such names are rarely  found among new generation, and if at all any exists, it becomes the target of drollery.
I havre another point that makes me go against the Shakespearean adage. In fact, we cannot make do without names. No names means having no proper nouns. Now imagine the language without  proper nouns, My god ! A world or language without proper noun ! There will be linguistic anarchy and communicative chaos. So we need names irrespective of what shakespeare said. And if we need them after all why not have best of them?
Names have great significance. If we are not familiar with somebody, the mere name gives us an idea of the fellow. Suppose we hear of some unknown Ram or Ram lal or Ramu, The very neme  'Ram'  gives us the idea of a person being sedate fellow like the lord Rama. Ram Lal gives the idea of some ordinary man lmay be dudhwala. Ramu gives a connotation of  somebody engaged in house keeping may be even my or your servent. Now take my name Jagdish with short /i/, you can perceive that this fellow seems to be having ordinary stature and reputation.But if it becomes Jagdeesh with long /i/, the things get bigger many fold, and you can perceive an image of god which I don't want to be, though sometime in my humanly pride, I thank my parents for giving me the name which reminds one of god.
The very names - Bengluru, Chennai, Puducherry, Mumbai - have a cultural and historical sense with them. Just pronouncing these names sends us to the social and cultural milieu related to these places.
Now why spare Shakespeare, who, having given this cliche to the world to think over, himself chose the most appropriate names for his persone. Cordelia of King Lear, Toby Belch of Twelfth Night, Prospero and  Miranda of the Tempest and many more are there that have beauty and significance of their own.
So, dear friends, Shakespeare himself was at variance with his own dictum, And there is so much fuss created over names. Names can be perceived good or bad, but people in this excessively busy world of hurry and worry have no time to perceive the good deeds. Rose may not smell sweet if given another name, and without name no smell at all. Therefore, I have every right to believe - A bad name is worse than bad deeds.