Feminism, here you go again on a skateboard of hogwash!

The Last I heard, the breech block of a T-72/90 series tank was 67 kgs and space available in a battle tank is just enough for one, only one person to take it out, well that calls for an exclamation mark. Maaaaan! That’s something.

Well then, lets have some more exclamation in this post of mine, A Diesel Barrel weighs just above 200 kgs and has to be hauled up to the tank by maximum available manpower, that’s incidentally only three men in a tank, what? Isn’t that manageable? It is my ladies, it is but that hauling is being done in loose desert sand of Thar. Hey you, yes you the girl sipping on that Hoegaarden and talking of male patriarchy, how much do you haul in a day? Naah, I am not taking about that haughty attitude, it’s solid iron we are discussing here. Maaaaan! Again.

A para commando from the Para SF you just saw on the silver screen courtesy the Uri frenzy, that man hides under his tunic, plenty scars to fill a mosaic. That man runs 40 km with some 30 kg loads on his back. I bet that back is bruised enough to call for a stiff rum and a cigarette after every run.

Then everyone of them, no man whether a Tank man, a paratrooper, a foot trotting infantryman, a peasant, a commoner with an uphill walk of everyday life. No man would thump his chest and rub in that male patriarchy, chauvinism, they are just cut out for a task, performing that without comparison. Girl, your man holds you to higher pedestal, you my lady are loved, you too have a role in the society and are loved, celebrated for what you are.

Well then, I am accused of turning to my Olive green Ink everytime I sit to write my irrelevant piece of illegible griffonage. I take a bow, offer my apologies and switch to the legible blue ink of common understanding. I am wedded to the olive greens I told you, grant me some military inclination. Eh, Here on we talk some sanity that you can relate to.

Every society has flaws, had some, some gone and some going eventually. That’s how societies come out of a metamorphosis refined. Our society too had many, has many and one can be upbeat owing to the fact that education has eliminated many flaws and social behaviour towards women definitely has improved. One extremity can’t be answered by another, respect for women in the society has to be fully achieved but this NewAge Swara Bhaskar’s VEERE DI WEDDING or #metoo kind of feminism isn’t the answer.

Psychiatric illness doesn’t discriminate between genders, psychos are found across the spectrum so we won’t discuss them, fair exception, isn’t it? Have a look around you, tell me how many wife beaters you find, how many male chauvinistic hookah smoking TAUs you see, how many you find ridiculing your feminism? Vis a vis how many you see trying to take a flip on their tails with rosebuds in hand for you this valentine’s day. This is a society with different hue, you just can’t paint everyone with the same paint of male hatred.

FEMINISM, like MALE CHAUVINISM, I hate, these are two extremities and none will lead to an amicable armistice for the society.

Feminism has been a skateboard of evangelism, an instrument of commercial interests for about a century now. Hey feminist, how about a cigarette? Yes, you, the pregnant lady, would you like to light one? Naah! Please don’t give me that stare now, I am perfectly in line with the code of feminism. Hope you know how feminism was used as an object to push up the cigarette sales? ????

Ever heard “Torches of Freedom” ? That was a phrase used to encourage women’s smoking by exploiting women’s aspirations for a better life during the women’s liberation movement. Tobacco industry has been lobbying for female smokers and has always looked to encourage women smoking to push their sales as the smoking in women was seen as inappropriate and only men folk smoking would keep a void in sales, more smokers the better.

Hey pregnant lady, what about a smoke for equality???

Cigarette was held as a torch of liberty, you were made the vehicle of commercial evangelism while you were burning your lungs for their commercial interests. You were shown smoking yourselves to liberty and equality, perhaps you were shown to be better than men genetically, however logic would say, men and women were made with a different purposes. You have the power to bring a life to this world, nurture a human in your womb for nine months and let the universal cycle continue, men can’t do it so here’s one aspect you are different, why press superiority into the relationship between men and women. It’s a relationship which is complementary, isn’t complete in absence of any one gender. You have the honour of giving birth, nurturing and feeding entire human race, that’s feminism as I define. You are honoured when someone calls you mother.

bait of biological superiority thrown at you to take that puff on their commercial interests

We have women working alongside men, better or worse than them, owing to individual capabilities and not for the biological differences. Men have more muscle mass and are stronger generally, so have certain jobs cut out for them. Even the harmones that decide our physical built are produced differently in our bodies, we aren’t same, we are different and complementary. Armies around the world are making ways for women to join but then those roles are specific and limited to what women can handle, why that fuss? Why do you want to eat into combat jobs not suited for you when you already have an added advantage of that female charm owing to which you get front desk hospitality jobs? Should men cry bias? More so when we all know this is an everyday reality.

Well, why limit this to jobs? Let’s get to the modest homemaker, that “just a housewife” you have reduced her to. I hear women introducing themselves as “just a housewife“, I tend to wonder what’s so timid about being a housewife, why that triviality introduced to being the shaper of the future of a society and the nation? I bet a housewife is busier than a working woman anyday, cooking, teaching, grooming the kids, being a charming wife to a husband, being a partner of her husband in every social chore. If that all is so easy, just leave that pint of Hoegaarden and try being a homemaker for a day. You today have a handicap of surviving in urban steep corporate ladder so you turn to a nanny for your kid, that’s okay, pretty much justified but then you have some being nanny themselves and taking that responsibility being reduced to a diffident “just a housewife”, well that’s one hell of a job too. Why isn’t the neo modern feminism celebrating that as well? Doesn’t serve the commercial interests my friend.

Mary Kom, she’s a fighter, is a world champion boxer, a homemaker, a mother and a wife, I never heard her talking feminism, ever her bollywood biopic wasn’t shown as the Pathfinder of feminism. That biopic came, went unnoticed however for me she is the one pretty apt example of female achievement.

But then, the real pathbreaking movie in line of duty for feminism projected to be was ” VEERE DI WEDDING” aah, afterall that showed liberty in drinking, smoking, jumping into different beds and how can one forget that crass on screen vibrating Orgasm by none other than the torchbearer of feminism “Swara Bhaskar”. That movie was pathbreaking, epitome of female empowerment, well they may now even say they didn’t project it to be ultra feminist flick, the commercial interests have been met nonetheless.

Whatever they did in the flick or whatever is being given on a daily platter to you by “four more shots” on Amazon prime is not a living reality of our society but sure enough it will be, they, after all are designing your perception. Feminism sold you cigarettes and now they are selling you vulgarity and regular divorce in the society. An array of different kinds of feminism is available, you gotta be sane enough to choose the right one.

Well, I take my leave, my blue ink won’t last much, I’d bid adieu before I have to get back to the olive greens!

Lost tribe, are we?

Civilizations, well we know some, we’d never get to know some, so many done and dusted, ruined, brought to their knees and traces of them lost in oblivion. All those who breathe yet in flesh and blood, all those who walk the trail still and boast of the thriving civilization and pledge their allegiance to, wouldn’t know when they’ll be gone, their existence reduced to someone’s perception based on carbon dating analysis of what was a proud man of profound stature once.

You, the brownskin indian hold the ownership of your temples, your scriptures, your verses, your past, present and future. You are the one not under attack by anyone but you, yes you are the one who will eventually erase the traces of your being. This subcontinent, this civilization, your people, your philosophy, your identity, your story, your sonnet has been doggedly attacked for thousands of years yet you have your civilization surviving, on a nebulizer though.

I, once met a cambodian army officer, he proudly wore a badge, the brass badge had a half human half ape leaping figure with a club in hand, I was inquisitive to know what it was though I already had figured what it was, his answer didn’t startle me a bit, it was Hanuman Badge that every member of the Cambodian Army wore. Cambodia was a Buddhist nation and pretty far from India, why a Hindu Badge on Military uniform? I didn’t know that largest Vishnu temple in the world, “Angkor wat” temple itself was in Cambodia. Well, then, the nation was Buddhist and their Hindu past was a long forgotten fact, but then, was it really? That officer knew of his Hindu past and wore that badge with utmost pride, that didn’t make him any less a Buddhist. That left a bitter sweet feeling, I felt proud of our civilization, felt a bond, he was a distant brother who carried that legacy with pride and at the same moment I felt bitter anguish at our own people bent on destroying ever affinity to our past, our civilization.

Thailand still has Ram Leela, Indonesia has Ganesh image on its currency. Now, former is a Buddhist and later a muslim nation, their religion didn’t make them cut off that umbilical cord with their civilization, their past.

The vedic civilization, that brought philosophy, mathematics, science, yoga, meditation and even if you don’t believe that and call all text as pure fiction, that philosophy documented as Vedas, Upnishads, Purans, Mahabharata, Ramayana deserve more respect than that “God of small things” and the ” City of Djinns” after all that documentation in those times of no computers, no internet, no automation, not even a decent modest pen must have been rather more uphill than this scribbling of mine over a smart phone. That effort nonetheless draws my respect without an ounce of doubt.

That civilization gave you Liberty to question, liberty to accept or denounce, that civilization never posed a threat to anyone, that philosophy asked you to look inwards to find the true god in yourself, see the supreme power, the creator in every living being. That civilization bore the brunt of raids, attacks and subjugation yet it survived while accepting those who came into its asylum.

Yet, we the civilized and free, we the educated and liberated want every trace of our past erased, we find Sanskrit communal and English secular. Anthems and emblems with even a distant analogue to the vedic civilization have been projected as a threat to our secularism, our religion and our way of life today.

I, today, am a Hindu, a Muslim, a Christian, a Sikh, a Buddhist, a Jain or an atheist yet I have a legacy which can co-exist with the religion I follow. That civilization is mine and I own it, I shoulder the responsibility and the culpability of letting my legacy prosper or cutting the jugular vein of it. I have an identity that goes back a thousand years, that can’t be taken away whether I have a beard, a moustache, wear a turban or a cross.

Why then, why should I have a problem with “Tamso ma Jyotirgamaya” that translates to “take me to the light“. Yes, that’s the prayer in every central school assembly, that’s the prayer which appeared to be toxic to certain ears, those ears ruptured by the toxicity of that prayer had to knock the doors of the Supreme Court of India for some alleviation. Is that prayer as toxic as those ears made it to be? Is that calling to enlightenment, the light, so venomous that people felt their secularism strangulated.

We are a nation, a potpourri of different philosophies, we accept that Azaan on loudspeakers, see the music in those church bells, serenity in Gurbani , that’s religion and everyone is entitled to practice his own the way he likes, that’s the right I enjoy in a secular, democratic country of mine and what I, as an individual and part of this great nation, a small keg who’ll vanish someday without leaving much profound footmarks, owe to the legacy, my civilization, my allegiance and respect.

My secularism cannot be used as a bayonet to behead my past, my legacy and identity. I am an Indian, I have a history, a past that makes my identity today. That Ashoka emblem is my legacy, my history, my past, that Satyamev Jayate does not pose a threat to my secular credentials. I perhaps am a Muslim or a Christian today, my identity is indian, I am not an Arab, not a Caucasian either, nor I would ever be accepted by the world to be if I try to pose as one.

We aren’t a lost tribe yet, we have an identity unless we kill our identity ourselves. Why can’t we just be proud of what we are. Well still, every man has his own world, a 3D printed cocoon of perception around him.

Nuisance, you are a conquerer!

Man was a monkey and evolution is a rollercoaster. You had empires ruled by emperors, kingdoms ruled by kings and now you have Nations ruled by, swayed by Nuisance.
A nobleman, a foot soldier, a pikeman, a cavalier and a peasant held higher social stature than the Jester, the clown, the harlots and a hoofer.
Now your foot Soldier, your commoner, your peasant, your regular daily life bread earner leaves on an uncelebrated death, given a paltry farewell in a remote village and those clowns of Mumbai theatrics have enough nuisance to sway the opinions of every “paddy on the head” new generation oh so cool waste.
Frenzy is generated to live half a week, frenzy grown on the blood of that foot Soldier and reaped by that bollywood jester.

That “how’s the josh” survives only in cosy air-conditioned PVR and INOX and yet that won’t last a Hangover.

The Grisly, that ugly tanned commoner, that foot Soldier is seen a plenty at Jammu Railway Sation and I bet you won’t walk to him and ask “how’s the josh” no, you won’t, he after all reeks of that sweat he earned on a steep climb to the post he held.

He, after all carries that tan, the tan that razor sharp piercing snow Blizzard left on his weather beaten face.

He, after all has every Long Range Patrol etched on his skin, that etching is pretty much legible, not many would see though.

That rucksack isn’t the only weight he hauls, that burden of war he carries with pride.

He, after all is a brute that belongs to the wilderness, he would be skinned, stripped of all that finances he saved over years by you the countrymen as he arrives to the civilized world, he is a gullible customer, you’ll sell everything at a higher price to him. He after all knows nothing of your cunning plans for him.

Nuisance after all is what rules the world of fickle today and then a traffic police constable has more to offer as a threat to you than that common foot Soldier, there you go.

Any random man who has a pint of Nuisance affecting your life on a regimen draws your genuine respect and if not respect, your fears, your allegiance, your submission.

But then, boy, I tell you, that commoner, that peasant, that soldier forgot to acquire that pint of much needed Nuisance and obviously enough you forget to respect him in turn.

Slapped enough observations of a tanned commoner in your face already to sag that “how’s the Josh” frenzy of yours my friend. Get back to your cheeseburger and PS-4 , my write up here doesn’t carry enough Nuisance worth your time.

Nuisance rules, it does my friend, my write up would draw a hundred views but a DHINCHAK POOJA crass lowly braying on YouTube would have a Five Million Views……ha ha ha, well that’s how Nuisance has come to rule our world.

Evolution then is just a rollercoaster and as of now we are on a descent.

Resolve, duty and responsibility. All that a soldier asks!


congratulations sir, your son has joined the Army!!!!

now that, gentlemen is quite a statement! It hides in it a cruel callousness.

thank you sir, so would you send your son too?

birds chirped, some twigs crackled underneath the feet as the man shifted his weight to the other leg in a denial and sheepish admission that he wont, but no word was ever heard!!!

Now, that said, I dont believe that you serve your nation only as a soldier, every citizen is a soldier in himself!

BUT then, is it?

Does IC-814 ring any bells?
?????????????????????????????????????????????????does it?

that sir, was the plane hijacked by pakistani jihadis and taken to Afghanistan.
REMEMBER how relatives of those on board the hijacked plane surrounded the PM’s house at Race Cource???


well that gentlemen was the moment that sealed our future as a nation, The world watched and pakistan tested our resolve as a nation.

we succumbed!!!!!yes we did, and heeded to the hijackers’ demands , the outcome???
Jaish e Mohammed was formed by same terrorists released by us, they were emboldened and our prestige took a beating.

CITIZEN SOLDIER???? where were you? where was the resolve.
that moment called for nation and least those relatives to show some gumption, some spirit of sacrifice, some zeal, some patriotism, yeah that all, all that they expect a soldier’s family to exhibit but then, DID THEY????

SOLDIERS DIE! they do and they do have duties and responsibilities but let that weed smoke settle, get out of the trip of bliss, you’d know you have responsibilities too.

Did the family of that Aao, Chakesang, Aier, Tangkhul, Mar, Angami, Sumi, Lotha, Konyak from Nagaland surround the PM’s house as first and second Naga Battalion assaulted in kargil?

Or the family of Limbu, Rai, Subba, Gurung, and Tamang when 1/11 Gurkhas pressed in?

Or the family of Harjinder, Sukhwinder, Ranjeet, Gurbir when 8 sikh was losing its brave at tiger hill?

Now sir, Israel, that every fastest finger first dude on keyboards across
the nation writing on social media wants India to become.

That nation does not negotiate, that nation has sacrificed civilians but
never negotiated.

That nation gives a taste of military pudding and the feel of sleeping bags
to all its citizens,

It has a conscription army, , every man, woman walking straight has served in forces.

IC-814 tested your resolve and world saw it.
and they know your counter assault would be limited to Facebook and Twitter.

But hey, we are citizens, compatriots, brothers and sisters. I wouldn’t have my dinner at peace if i antagonized you, i wouldn’t, i only intend to provoke a thought and hope you carry it along to bring it up on the day of calling for the nation.

Brothers and sisters out there lost in everyday fight that comes along surviving that walk of life, I call out to you, I call out and attempt to punch a reality as hard as I can straight into your face, make an attempt to shake you out of a comatose you have found your comfort in, as all that defines you, all that belongs to you, the nation you call yours is in in a constant threat, we are at war! We are at war since ages and even if we limit to the independent India as we see today, we are at war since 1948, the world talks about ‘Hybrid Warfare’ now and we have been facing that since inception, Year 1948, Pakistan sent irregulars to snatch Kashmir and played on deniability. Pakistan continues to so today, Jaish e Mohammad took responsibility for Pulwama IED Blast and killing of near 50 CRPF men, the chief of that organisation lives a privileged life in Pakistan and their Government denies a hand in all these terrorist attacks.

One gets to see newfound avidity and zeal, exhibition of patriotic fervour being picked up at movie theatres and spilled to the social media and lounges. ‘URI‘ that movie incites decent enough nationalism to survive a hangover, but then just a hangover!

This, my countrymen is the war of 21st century and our Armed Forces are fighting this war day in day out, nonetheless they get your support, or do they really??

Naah! That’s not what your soldier needs, that frenzy isn’t what will serve the cause, wanna know what a soldier asks today? What he really needs you to do?? He just needs you to the exact opposite your enemy is trying to Make you do. He just wants you United for the cause, for the nation and for the good of it. Be united, bridge the communal, caste, religious, state and colour gap, please do. Treat every indian as yours irrespective of their appearance, religion or language. We have been divided since ages, lets stand together now at last.

One Pulwama incident has ruined many lives but beware and be sure your internal differences are what the enemy is trying to exploit and he knows exploiting those differences would do more damage than these heinous attacks. You’ve responsibilities my countrymen, responsibilities of a being a citizen soldier.

Are you prepared to carry that responsibility? are you ready to stand by your saviour? are you ready to be a citizen soldier in the age where wars are being fought on data network? are you ready to just be civic and exhibit basic civility? would you try a bit to make yourself aware of your duties and responsibilities as a citizen? Are you even prepared to perform the basic duty and vote, thats your right and duty in a democracy. “VOTE” would you?

A good citizen, and that encompasses all! all that a soldier demands from you. ” BE A CITIZEN WORTH FIGHTING FOR”

Every 26th January, as that slant eyed, modest, foot soldier marches past you in his tilted felt hat, let him see a good citizen, a citizen contributing to the growth, pride and prestige of the nation in his chores on a regimen. I bet he too would get goosebumps!


Thats from someone finding a spade to call since long.

“Divergent Squint Ideology” The Sinister web that creeps on you undiscovered!

One planet, one earth that we all exist on is a myth. There are billions of worlds, every man has his own, that Kaleidoscope is on avail, you pick your own hue for those glasses to peep through. Your world is defined by the colour of the glasses that you put on or perhaps forced upon you by your surroundings without you even noticing it and that my friend, is indoctrination, that’s ideology being brewed everyday for the naive to sip on.

A dog is a dog to the child with the mind not perverted yet, a dog has a breed, it’s stray, mongrel or pedigree to the indoctrinated and he wouldn’t accept a mongrel, that apartheid has been infused in our everyday being.

And then, you after all are not ‘you’ that’s just what your environment has made you, your religion, your clan, values, regimen……….your ideology, yeah that’s ideology and it defines the ‘you’ that meets my eye. That ‘you’ has been constructed and you won’t even figure that you are being molded, woven, rolled, shaped into what you would be for most of your life.

What’s a man without a belief? Its just the perspective or else human kind is just a herd  feeding, breeding and dying alike. your perspective is your identity, your identity is shaped and manipulated, Catch his belief and the man follows! Alas! the innocuous wouldn’t know. Perspective it is and then it is maneuvered  in good, bad, ugly, nauseating, obnoxious and even sinister way. That perspective is enough to seal the fate of civilizations, always had, always will. That perspective, my friends is a steroid, you get hooked on to it and you never hear it knocking, be watchful with it. That can make or break you, your clan, the flags, the banner you stand for.

These days i feel like naming every year, the year by its mood, its prevalence, its lionization and all i end up naming all these recent years is ” THE YEAR OF THE COOL SCHMUCK” every recent year has belonged to the “bearded, wasted, hemp vaping suicidal cretin” and the youth has consistently been manipulated to the “DIVERGENT SQUINT IDEOLOGY“. And……boy, thats sinister, way too sinister to flirt with.

The love for the nation was never out of fashion, was it? well, never heard that as i grew up! those days, people were simpler, straight thinking, straight seeing commoners with less comforts and a bellyful of paucity and limitations to live with yet, that man never felt drowned by the nationalist emotions, that was never suffocating for him, never and that all because that ‘divergent squint perception’ was absent. Now, we have a generation of overfed couch potatoes, living in comforts who develop a lower back pain as they are asked to stand for the national anthem for just about 50 seconds!!!!!!!

Its ‘cool’ to oppose singing of national anthem, standing up for it if that’s played before an opera, cool to oppose installing a national flag mast at the universities, cool to shout out anti-national slogans and then some weak in the knee old fag would come out with that cacophonous stinking obnoxious argument of the “freedom of speech” freedom they choose pretty selectively. The same fake intelligentsia who draw inspiration from Stalin and Mao, wouldn’t educate their blind pupils how Mao and Stalin killed millions in the name of “nation building”. They’d rather be exhorting subversion and sedition in the name of “freedom of speech” that too in a nation which by any measures is one of the freest in the world, yeah freest and i meant it, where else can you get away with your daily pissing on the roadside, throwing refuge on the streets, spitting anywhere you feel like? Where else they give you rights without asking for responsibility in return?


When was the last time you sang that national anthem? perhaps that school assembly? the place where you were made to do so, okay then, when did you voluntarily do it with your free will? well, i can go have a pint of beer while you think of one, yes one such instance in your entire life yet many wouldn’t be able to come up with an answer. Then even standing up to pay your respect while its played causes certain pains in the back, knee and ….

And then, you, yes you the surviving on a pacemaker old fag, you the politician, you the “intellectual”, you the “Journalist” answer me, answer the commoner, why shouldn’t those shouting for breaking the nation be tried for sedition, is being a student an excuse? come up with a better one. Universities aren’t for that debauchery, ain’t a harem of the hemp vaping ‘students’ in late thirties feeding of subsidised dough, lodging and education. That subsidy is a drain on my pocket, i have a right to ask.

and then, what the goddamn flying ‘duck’ is Hyper Nationalism? how is supporting your army in a fight with vile dogs of terrorism “hyper Nationalism” how? Yes ill watch Paltan, ill watch Uri and i will stand up to pay my allegiance to the banner, the flag, the anthem and punch you in the face too when you label anything Hyper. This is my nation and if there is anything ‘Hyper’ here, it is ‘Hyper Liberty’ that liberty that proffers you the loose rope and not the gallows.

That youth has been drawn to the watering hole of “divergent Squint ideology”, that youth already is seeing nationalism as a concept of past, that youth is being programmed to be sheepish of patriotism, that ideology is creeping and it sure is enveloping the generation.

well then, didn’t i tell you already, perception doctors are working on you, they’ll shape you, in turn will shape the fate of this nation and society. That perception, you don’t own it, its acquired and you better be watchful of what taste you acquire! what hue you choose for your glasses, well, for me, the hue has always been “OLIVE GREEN” and so it stays!

Getting older and procrastinating it with change in genres!

Did someone just pour some Chipotle sweet onion sauce on my Cantonese noodles or its just my palate grown archaic!

Was time since last attempted some pub hopping and tub thumping on some hardihood inciting guitar and drums so took a trip to a microbrewery ghetto, girls were miser with clothes, people loud, smoke hung over the crowded human congregation as a grim reminder of the 1.4 billions that the nation nurtures.

Two nostalgia filled old timers, walked in with the tough acclimatised rapport and equally zealous thirst for some sweet, sour, aromatic beer and tender grilled chicken.

The beer was good and betting on the artic ice, chilled, some chicken and gulps to wash it down and the sense of motive started taking over.

Something was wrong, yes it was, that rush of adrenaline and long howling with the airguitar moments with a muscle frenzy, that’s what we always came for, damn it was a pub, what’s in a pub without the frenzy?

No led zep zeppelin, no pink Floyd, no G n R, no metallica, no chumbawamba, maaaaaan that was outrageous! And that DeeJay, he kept flipping and rolling those DESPACITOS, some Twerking posterior humdrum then some punjabi track with soft acoustic guitar in it …………….MAAN, HOW CAN SOME PUNJABI TRACK HAVE GUITAR IN IT?? That’s blasphemous.

Music made a forced entry to my ears, something that my soul would reject, nauseating, as obnoxious and out of place as HUMMUS IN MY NOODLES or AJINOMOTO IN MY LASAGNA, my palate sure told me it was degeneration of food.

Wait, what do I see then, girls and boys there waiving their hands and arms out, some flamboyant ladies actually giving twerk an ugly try with mammoth posterior…………….all this on not so music music.

Sure the world was at it’s end, I indeed could notice an asteroid heading in our direction, but then my mind gathered all that rare maturity and echoed loud to me,


now I know the reason world ends! And for us born in the 80s and stuck with rock retro vision it’s ending pretty soon. Generation gap comes sooner than you imagine nowadays, been hooked to rock for ages now and that love didn’t change with an occasional visit to the Rastafarian hood with some Bob Marley laidback hymns.

It was year 2012 and I was still at my regulation Pink Floyd and Van Halen while a friend brought a revelation, an entire USB drive full of EDM and Trance which I reluctantly accepted, tried listening to with a disinterested ear and then that manifestation started to envelope me with its freshness. I was out of the shower and refreshed, that left me a feeling, the bittersweet feeling of my own obsolescence, that reality punched me in the face and said it loud ” you are getting older by day“.

I had to beat the time, had to prevent it from etching my journey on my skin, i had to change my vintage Enfield cruiser with a faster and more zealous bike, i had to feed myself with that daily potion of fresh energy morsel by morsel. Biking, trekking, travel, fitness and acceptance of the “new” were my “morsels”, music included. I needed to climb that mountain, walk that trail, travel that road, run my ten miles, fit in my old jeans and i won’t let that youth slip away.

They say change is the only constant and i was decided, affirmative that i wont be that bullheaded adamantine cretin to resist the change. Youth was there, pretty much there in the change and that change i needed to embrace and cling on to, i accepted another genre and let myself sway in the rhythmic trance, i was young and that EDM and trance bestowed upon me the energy i looked for.

But then, was it just the change of genre i was longing for? Naah! that was the change and the acceptance of it that aroused the energy within. Staying stiff-necked with a genre was standing against an avalanche of change that was sure going to roll me over, i rather decided to put on my skis and ride along, let that pristine breeze of change hit me in the face as i ride through times, celebrating my journey as it goes.

Are you ready to take a hop, ride along the change? i grant you, that’s fun!

From “English Shackles” to the “Political Hemp”

The nation chose a secular democracy as the system of governance at the inception of the constitution that every political party across the canvas either respects or puts up a show of respecting at the least. The nation till then was governed with a tight military style of command chain and there was no tolerance for any deviation from the system laid down by the British masters and it would be pretty safe to assume that the political “think tank” of the fresh independent nation would have preferred to have a liberal, non military like system in place given the constraints they experienced under the British.

British system of governance which reflects from the style of education system they followed for their own children as well as certain “Indian selected candidates” was indeed disciplinarian in nature and pretty much in line with military ethics and routine where apart from physical fitness and sports, the military “Drill” which was the basic tool of inculcating discipline among-st the pupil. Even today, the schools of utmost repute, the likes of The Mayo’s College, The Lawrence School Sanawar, The Sherwood or the Rashtriya Indian Military College Dehradun and various king George’s Military schools to name a few are all British era education institutes following some form of military disciplinarian modus operandi as the basic ethos.

The school authorities have their own system of penalizing and ensuring discipline at all times, fine chores as simple as wearing a uniform or dining in a MESS is soaked in the youth before he leaves his school for a career outside. Moral code of conduct, sportsmanship, courtesy, discipline, loyalty, punctuality are some tenets the system has the impetus on. Civility is something which harped upon by the system though it wouldn’t be sane to assume that every alumni of these institute would be en example of civility, deviations are considerable but the system tries to ensure discipline and civility notwithstanding.

Even if one was to take the ancient Indian “Gurukul” system of education as a benchmark, the mob indiscipline was unacceptable and total devotion to the “Guru”, the teacher, was called for. Individuals were given a model code of conduct to follow and to absorb before they were let out to the world where they would eventually make their own decisions.

Pr-independence India saw student politics as a tool of dissent against the ruling regime, the British who were outsiders and India had to get rid of them somehow. That “somehow” encouraged politics in education institutes, which was then in turn carried to independent India as well.

Now we have career politicians in our education institutes furthering their ambitions of making it to the upper echelons of the industry called politics, budding career politicians who’d care no heed to the education that they are in for, rather would focus on the career that would earn them privilege, money and standing in the society even without a real skill to enrich the society they form part of.

Stark irony of the political system lies within our daily regimen. A responsible young man endures all impediments, the steep ascent in his voyage to the basic livelihood, gets bruised and mellowed as he gets along the hackneyed chores of buying a dwelling, the daily bread, has no time for allegiance to politics whatsoever and then, why should he? but that man is not clever enough to utilise the college campuses for making people his skateboards of evangelism and that clever career politician knows it well.

Campuses where the mob agitations, over the brim agenda pushing in the name of “freedom of expression“, political allegiances rule the roost, there is very less room for discipline, mob processions are the end of discipline. Agitations to halt industrial work, put a spoke in implementation of a developmental work, stop traffic by blocking a road which might even lead to death of a patient being carried to hospital in an ambulance, protesting by torching buses and trains, destroying public property however have become a norm are miles from civility, the same civility which was the purpose of the education institutes.

Holding a students union election, deploying security forces to prevent any disturbance before, during and after elections cost public money, after all that cop is not meant to do and is not paid for what he is made to do. Issues varying from the Kashmir conflict to AFSPA, to relations with neighboring country are passed a verdict on by some random hemp smokers who haven’t even passed college yet and naive common students become vehicles of their propaganda helping them in their own political ambitions. College/ University authorities losing control over what goes in the campuses isn’t a good sign, perfect situation is created for separatists to push their cart as well, we have seen that happening already.

And then, to what end? What has student politics achieved

We have a generation vehemently fighting against national anthem in movie theater, how weak in the spine we are today that we cant stand for a minute to pay respect to our flag, our anthem. We’ve had “Student activists” and educationists fighting alongside against the installation of our own national flag in universities, is that an eye sore to you? we have a new term coined for being a nationalist thinker “hyper nationalism” , we have people mining “intolerance” in every second happening in our country and dividing the society further to bits.

This is what we gain from politics in educational institutes, we have many chores to tend to in the path to making of a better society, Ban students’ politics to begin with before we are thrown to chaos, let universities be the shrines, the lamasery of learning, wouldn’t recommend the Military disciplinary regimen but wouldn’t like that quagmire of narcissistic political agenda pushing either.


Paucity is a giver, abundance has blood on its hands!

Winter had just set in, that evening it asserted itself profoundly to have Delhi in shivers and though I had ditched my car for the sanity of riding my bike to maneuver through that quintessential Delhi evening chaotic traffic, my pale blue hands, numb with the chill conveyed how idiotic my decision was. I immediately asked for a stiff Old Monk the moment I reached, I was sipping on rum and cola at a restrobar inside the deer park at Hauz khas Village and was joined by the friends who had hosted the meet up. Their son, a little cute kid of about three years and some wanted to see the deers, I wasn’t too sure whether the deers would just be here next to the restrobar’s hedge, we walked to the periphery and to my bewilderment the entire herd was there next to the wall gazing into the restrobar.

It just hit me, a thought, why were the wild right next to the watering hole of civilization, perhaps it was light, the light that wasn’t a norm in dark winter nights in the park which was left undisturbed. That restrobar was the only source of light in their neighborhood. Made me feel grateful for the light we have in our lives without much celebrations about its existence.

Something as ubiquitous as the daylight on a bright sunny day, something that we aren’t in a habit of praying for, thats just there and so it would always be and the haughty soul would just discount even a stray thought of gratitude for what’s a part of everyday living.

So is light, frame a day, a night without and you have the answer, need to be obliged for what’s given and we avail without much heed.

It wasn’t the light that lured the deers, it was the ” Paucity” and paucity sure is a giver, it’s a blessing in everyday life. Paucity is traumatized by our consistent maligning, man wouldn’t appreciate the goodness it brings, not many even understood.

My husband often narrated how good he felt seeing those meagre four hours of light on diesel generator at his Company Operating Base on mountains in wilderness, that was special after every taxing walk back to the COB from a Long Range Patrol or weeks out in deodar Forrest on an operation. He shook hands with paucity for a while, that paucity of a shelter, of comfort, of light, of cooked, spiced food, paucity of a damp cigarette, paucity of a basic stiff rum, of that hot water bath on arrival at the COB, he called that home, the home he had without mobile phone connectivity, without a Wi-Fi connection, without an electric line but paucity was omnipresent, generators provided that precious light and there was paucity of diesel, it ran only for four hours.

Man was wild, had no home, no hamlet no cities, no roads no technology, no vehicles to flaunt, fight for basic meal was the only chore. The city dweller I see everyday has all and yet not many I meet are indeed grateful for what they’ve been served for dinner in the comforts of their home. They aren’t gratified in the life they live, wouldn’t love to go back to the wild either. He’s got abundance and in abundance he’s lost his palate to savour what he’s been served, all his life the man ran from paucity for abundance and abundance killed his joy, his vitality, his frolics, his bliss, his elation. Abundance was an everyday killer, paucity just stood there maligned.

Abundance breeds cynics, critics, the fakes and the depressed, fortuneless, the poor knows nothing, he just savoirs what he is given, he owns paucity and that unknown to him is the source of his everyday joy! But then, he too would ditch her in quest for abundance.

Ungrateful, he won’t write a thanking note for what he has, abundance is a bliss, it’s an art to know how to live with it.


Hope, that elusive, flirty bitch!

He was low on ammunition, fuel and his spirit was damp and then a stray streak of hope tried to flirt with him ; he hoped he’d still win and get back alive, hoped his cigarettes werent damp and broken. He shrugged off that hope, hope was nonsense. hope after all was just an industrial instrument wise men used to run the foolish world. Democracy ran on that hope of better tomorrow fed to commoners at intervals, Cosmetics ran on that hope of beauty, life ran on that hope of getting better someday semehow, dying ran on the hope for some more time while wise men sold their medicines.

He was a soldier , to him that hope was a bitch walking along that nosy, haughty , rich bastard , the wise!
he wont be wise, hed just be alive.

And then, he hoped to be alive!

He was weather beaten, years etched on his skin, skin as parched as as the field he struggled ploughing, he had left a bottle of water under that banyan tree, he was athirst but he wouldn’t drink, that was too precious and he would rather save it for some while, he couldn’t hope for a lavish life, couldn’t hope for comforts, he hated hoping, that hope was unyielding. He knew she was an elusive bitch, he wouldn’t embrace!

He was a farmer, he’d rather just be alive, alive enough to see the rain pouring, see his crop alive. He fought his hunger, his thirst, his cravings, his hopes and did what he could do best, stay alive. He had seen days, years like these and knew he would succumb to that bitch, he didn’t own his fate, he couldn’t summon the rain.

He was tired and beaten of worrying about his children he’d keep alive even at a cost of his own, he needed an asylum, a cloak of comfort, a slumber of bliss where he could forget all his struggles.

He kneeled to hope, hope of rain and better days, he succumbed.

He was human, he didn’t own his fate, his entire existence was circumstantial, his everyday life hung by a slender thread, he’d hope that thread Stayed intact.

Hope was a haughty bitch he knew yet the man wouldn’t let go of the eroticism of succumbing to her asylum. He needed her by his side every day!

Bringing down your savior !

That man braves frostbites, scorching heat, leech infested jungles and walks on insouciant he fears none but YOU!

Hailing from a town of less relevance, living with a starry eyed dream of making a career someday on my own, growing in absence of extravagance and watching my parents enduring the chores which filled their everyday life, the life which tried preserving every little penny on a hope of a grandiose living, i never had time to spare for observing the town, the living, the trends and the rhythm that the nation was on.

That’s not just me, that’s the story of every middle class child as he grows by and by going through the rigmarole of school, college and the university. Always focused on making a career, equipping himself with ample academics to join the relay race his parents have been in for decades. Losing focus was way too adventurous and losing focus for the sake of making firm perceptions about the world around wasn’t worth the risk.

As an Architect making a niche for myself and slowly building up my career, marrying an Army Officer was a decision that changed me and the way future unfolded in more than just one way. Peers told me i was killing my career but then looking back i thank myself for making that decision everyday, it was a revelation traveling around the nation, observing and developing a perception about what happened around me. I owe to that one momentous decision the opinions i make and the anecdotes i share and the reason enough my writings have an “olive green” hue, cant help, i am wedded to the olive greens.

well then, there is something i always felt, always wanted to convey loud and profound ‘we the indian citizen are killing our savior’, now that statement might raise some hackles but then hackles don’t intimidate the truth.

“The Savior”

Out there on mountains, in jungles leeches bite, frost bites, man and beast gasp for air as they pant climbing cliffs, they pant in togetherness yet they carry on, some say the patriotism motivates them, naah, not at this moment, the only motivation is to reach his post, the man has assumed that to be his home, he sweats, experience the stich pain but keeps moving. He needs to reach and he knows no heroes welcome or paparazzi chase, all he’d rather be assured and contend with is some hot roti and daal, some rest and then perhaps a sentry duty on a bad day. He is human, yes he is and he too has plans and ambitions though not pretty far fetched yet he does plan to take off his shoes and remove those leeches and hope for a bath on reaching, be assured his buddy would prepare tadka for his daal(theres no racial profiling either, he doesn’t know these fine terms, he may be a tall burly Jagtar Singh from Mansa, Punjab and his buddy an aao Naga from mokokchung, Nagaland or a yum Bahadur Subba from YUKSOM, Sikkim) he’ll expect that buddy to keep his food hot and wait for him to arrive, they are a family. He prays that the company havaldar major will spare him tonight’s sentry watch and that’s a major deal sir.


No, this soldier didn’t plan for this life, he wouldn’t, had he he’d not be here, yes he’s got liabilities back home, he’s got stomachs to feed, yes sir he chose a profession but hell yeah, it breaks him when he hears you question his decision to stand guard at the thin red line, someone had to.

Well as of now he’s not worried, he lives and dies alone, a paltry procession in his native village when he dies is all the publicity he’s guaranteed. He takes off his shoes, removes leeches, thank his gods that he’ll rest as he has not been detailed for sentry duty tonight, unroll his mat and sleeping bag. He’ll not let leeches affect. That modest, cheerful commoner is your “Savior” in flood, earthquake, drought, tsunami and yes in war. Yet the savior fears you!

Respect his flag, his anthem, the banner and his allegiance, that’s all we can do and the least we can do and many would argue they do all that already, no! collectively as a nation we don’t. What does he stand for, its the the cohesion, the resin than binds this nation together, the sanctity of its physical borders and the life of the common citizen governed by the constitution of this country.

That is what he stands for, he isn’t just guarding a thin red line on the political map of this landmass, nation means you to him. He draws his support, his inspiration from the sentiments that you exhibit towards him, his cause.

Every time we have a riot threatening the unity, the social fabric of the nation, you, the mob collectively deal a blow to the very spirit he stands for. Every caste, clan, religion biased political statement is a wound dealt afresh to him. Every time you hold his entire religion responsible for one rape just because some bollywood jester held a banner for his own movie’s popularity, you just hop into the vehicle of propaganda and share the banner on social media without realising what manifestation it would have.

The “celebrities” owing to their persistent ride on the minds of naive followers have the power of “trending” any nonsense and nonsense wouldn’t bother the commoner like me much but the sinister lack of responsibility does.

We, the 1.3 Billion, the nation, yes that landmass isn’t the nation but the 1.3 Billion dwellers. We, the fourth most powerful nation in the living world, the nation which is probing Mars and we choose our heroes, our icons way too sloppily, we choose some bollywood harlequin to go after and follow .

A commoner’s opinion springs from his everyday fight for the basics that he has to earn for his family, real memoirs are soaked in blood, sweat and some broken dreams. Memoirs are never made on a vision through a pair of “Louis Vuitton” peepers, real walk of life can never be on “Jimmy Choo”. How then, one can expect that gumption, that honest, real opinion from those cocooned in air conditioned niche of theirs. Every campaign by them has to be seen skeptically, they are dangerous creatures in the era of social media, would go to any neighborhood for furthering their commercial goals . You, my countrymen would do well to just enjoy the frolics and not become groping followers, you are being used as vehicles of evangelism without you even realising it.

Lets put things in perspective now, do you even distantly realise the effect of every social media post that you share or comment upon? India is a nation of billions and quintessentially a case study of diversity. Name a country which has as many religions, clans, tribes, castes, ethnicity and divides, i am sure you cannot. With diversity comes the burden of preserving the unity, bridging the fissures in society and healing the fractures. Every state in India would have some or the other fracture line of varied intensity and we in the age of social media have been on a relentless campaign to exploit every fracture line to the hilt, Bhima Koregaon” was a non issue blown out of proportion and a riot manufactured damaging the goverment’s property and costed the exchequer a fortune but yet that damage wasnt as sinister, as threatening as the damage to the unity, the bedrock of the national survival.

We have our heroes studying in government sponsored universities, heroes who are career politicians even before they pass out from the same university they organise their campaigns in, universities arent meant for political agenda pushing, are they?

India has fought five wars post independence, none has been as threatening as the damage to the unity posed by irresponsible hero worshiping and agenda pushing on social media is.

There is no relevance of a strong army guarding your frontiers if you eat your nation from within and that’s what our collective naivety does. Every wound inflicted on the integrity of the nation by irresponsibly becoming an instrument of exploiting the fractures within our society, our nation is death of the “Savior”.

Choose your heroes responsibly India, don’t kill your savior !