Thoughts of 16 November 2010
I am Ankoor. I love myself and my parents. I am over obsessed with studies and feel that some conference is going on in my head. Sometimes I get an impression that a super power tries to control our mind through a satellite. As such, lakhs of emails are intercepted during the course of a day. OCD maybe is the name of my problem. But I am not sure.I have faith in God and myself. One day I may get cured. This faith is atoot (unbreakable).
I am feeling relieved after a good night’s sleep. Sleep had eluded me for a few days and for a week before the D.P. Though I am losing interest in studies, I have faith that I shall overcome some day. I have to keep trying. Someone has said- Failures are stepping stone to success.
One of my loves is typing on the computer. I was attracted to it instantly in Class-1 just like fish takes to water. It has made our lives easier. Internet is also a nice time pass, apart from being a wealth of information. While in school, I would search on net for any topic or theme that was given by the teacher to write on or to make an assignment. I would download photos and sketches also to make my home task attractive. But gradually one has realized that too much reliance on computer or net is bad. It may kill original thoughts. It also enables one to take a short cut.
Earlier I had this enjoyable experience of watching videos on You Tube. Now I guess it would not be great to watch videos on you tube. My age is 21 and a half. I have stopped talking to many friends. GOD knows why?
Law is a heavy subject for me as of now. I must fight with the thoughts that I have in my mind. God make me brave. I have sudden mood swings. Reverse counting and straight forward counting is what one doctor told me would cure me. I am experiencing the problem of short term memory. I also have difficulty in remembering places and having overall concentration. I see GODs in elders. My parents always tell me that I will get cured, get a good and reasonable job.
THUMBS UP TASTE THE THUNDER. HAVE IMMENSE FEELING OF MYTHOLOGY INSIDE ME.REGULAR WALKS AND YOGA WOULD HELP.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Sunday, November 14, 2010
AN EVENING AT MACHAN
Evening means different things to different people.Some enjoy the solitude, some prefer a brisk walk, still others spend it in the company of near and dear ones. Atmosphere, aura, ambience-these make difference to a dull,drab and sultry place.Boredom is conquered.Even non-appetising meals become sumptuous, delicious, easy to remember. The decoration, frills and a particular way of presentation attract and delight. These help in relaxing, conversing,refreshing and healing. One tends to chill out without a hard drink AND post meal, sink into a bed of mink. Have a sweet dream and what not...........?
An October evening spent at Machan on the top floor of Dona Plaza,Guwahati will be memorable in ways, more than one. They were on time and absolutely prim and proper. While he impressed with his height, purse, physique and overall sense of humour, she sizzled and giggled to a temporary glory. Her curvaceous figure made prominent by a tight red and white dress earned her gazers if not fans during the semi-dark evening. Poses for photo session with a natural smile and grace against the background of animals, antique pieces and look-alikes of natural jungle were extempore and amazing. Same was noticed not once. But several times.......,before the soup, afterwards, before the '7Up' and in course of 'gup-shup'.
The topics and themes were so tantalizing that hunger or lust for food was almost set aside till a gentle reminder came from well dressed waiters and a haggard banquet manager. While waiting for compliance of order, it was observed that a 50 plus crowd was immersed deeply in the semi-dark, light musical backdrop. Like any other place, tiny tots in sufficient numbers were jumping all over. They would occasionally show their tantrums. While their parents relished their own talks and whispers, the kids appeared flavergasted at the sight of electric powered squirrel, birds, python,monkey and elephant.
Lighting was perfect, so were the cutlery and upholstery. Arrangement of chairs and tables was upto mark but food left much to be desired. It was in random but stylish order. There was nothing special about the typical delicasies, the management had promised to serve...........compared to the exorbitant prices shown in block capital letters in a menu card, weighing at least 20 grams.
When the crowd began thinning close to mid-night, we religiously rearrange chairs and tables to facilitate privacy, better relaxation and another bout of fruitful photo session. Soon the incredible view became a setting or nursery for instant creativity. While focusing, adjusting and clicking, we were not paranoid as such, but the very idea of creating something with a fair dose of joy had simply struck in our heads. We were speechless and spell bound with every shot. Two and a half hours spent drinking, sipping, eating and photographing is going to be deep in our thoughts. Afterall, the clock too had come to a stand still.
Towards the end, like a shrewd businessman, the manager promised to improve and add-on till we make another appearance. He displayed an infectious smile while offering us some appetiser. We did not fail in capturing him and his faithful waiters on camera. The grand finale turned out to be a memorable shot of an African tribesman.
Overall it was cozy, not noisy. It was fun and frolic. Not fantasy. In a world, full of ecstasy. The 'couple' added to the charm of the evening by their unusual appearance, conduct, manners and presence of mind.
Walking carefully down the stairs from the fifth floor, I whisper-"Good luck Machan. May you celebrate your second birthday soon. AND I take a plunge together with footfalls of compatriots of the 'couple' from Delhi.
An October evening spent at Machan on the top floor of Dona Plaza,Guwahati will be memorable in ways, more than one. They were on time and absolutely prim and proper. While he impressed with his height, purse, physique and overall sense of humour, she sizzled and giggled to a temporary glory. Her curvaceous figure made prominent by a tight red and white dress earned her gazers if not fans during the semi-dark evening. Poses for photo session with a natural smile and grace against the background of animals, antique pieces and look-alikes of natural jungle were extempore and amazing. Same was noticed not once. But several times.......,before the soup, afterwards, before the '7Up' and in course of 'gup-shup'.
The topics and themes were so tantalizing that hunger or lust for food was almost set aside till a gentle reminder came from well dressed waiters and a haggard banquet manager. While waiting for compliance of order, it was observed that a 50 plus crowd was immersed deeply in the semi-dark, light musical backdrop. Like any other place, tiny tots in sufficient numbers were jumping all over. They would occasionally show their tantrums. While their parents relished their own talks and whispers, the kids appeared flavergasted at the sight of electric powered squirrel, birds, python,monkey and elephant.
Lighting was perfect, so were the cutlery and upholstery. Arrangement of chairs and tables was upto mark but food left much to be desired. It was in random but stylish order. There was nothing special about the typical delicasies, the management had promised to serve...........compared to the exorbitant prices shown in block capital letters in a menu card, weighing at least 20 grams.
When the crowd began thinning close to mid-night, we religiously rearrange chairs and tables to facilitate privacy, better relaxation and another bout of fruitful photo session. Soon the incredible view became a setting or nursery for instant creativity. While focusing, adjusting and clicking, we were not paranoid as such, but the very idea of creating something with a fair dose of joy had simply struck in our heads. We were speechless and spell bound with every shot. Two and a half hours spent drinking, sipping, eating and photographing is going to be deep in our thoughts. Afterall, the clock too had come to a stand still.
Towards the end, like a shrewd businessman, the manager promised to improve and add-on till we make another appearance. He displayed an infectious smile while offering us some appetiser. We did not fail in capturing him and his faithful waiters on camera. The grand finale turned out to be a memorable shot of an African tribesman.
Overall it was cozy, not noisy. It was fun and frolic. Not fantasy. In a world, full of ecstasy. The 'couple' added to the charm of the evening by their unusual appearance, conduct, manners and presence of mind.
Walking carefully down the stairs from the fifth floor, I whisper-"Good luck Machan. May you celebrate your second birthday soon. AND I take a plunge together with footfalls of compatriots of the 'couple' from Delhi.
Sunday's Sentiments
Today is Sunday, the Children's Day. Yesterday it rained beautifully. For more than an hour. Day temperature came down by a few degrees. All of us liked. As reported on TV and morning newspapers, even the 'exalted' children- Rahul and Priyanka got wet. They seemed to have enjoyed every bit of the experience.
Rain is always a refreshing feeling. Nevertheless, too much of anything is not only bad, it may be also counter-productive. Did not we see it on the eve of CWG?
While going to Law Centre-1 in the afternoon, I felt the chill. Mummy made no mistake in pulling out an attractive pullover. Initially I thought, on a cool day (not a cold day), I was going to be an odd man out. But, I discovered soon to my pleasant surprise that I was a part and parcel of the bubbling mainstream.
Even though, no classes were held on a a casual day, such as, Saturday, the whole experience was exhilerating. Not only I did some 'Om Chanting', I tried also speaking to birds of the green campus. For the sake of friends, I got a glimpse of some from a distance. Of all the places, they got a refuse in our dirty toilet. However, the sight of ever helpful and reliable Netram made me happy.
Having waited for 1 hour and 30 minutes for the class, it was really nice to meet him. We exchanged useful notes about our first semester examination starting on First December 2010. Time was really short. And I was badly prepared. Therefore, on his advice and Mummy's instructions, I purchased a 'Duky' (D.U.Key), for the Criminal Law paper for Rs.75/-. My feeble bargaining skills ensured me a measurly 'saving' of only Rs. 5/-.
A vegetable pattie and a cup of tea with Netram during the dusk at SPIC-MCKEY became enjoyable. So was the Rick ride for 20 bucks.
When I felt the hustle & bustle and heat of the evening at VV Metro Station, I uttered the following while entering the swanky coach:
"Rain rain, come again
I may be in bus, or train
OR flying over a hilly terrain
I need healing and liberation
From the bouts of...........
Agony, stress and pain. "
AM I NOT ALIVE AND KICKING ?
Today is Sunday, the Children's Day. Yesterday it rained beautifully. For more than an hour. Day temperature came down by a few degrees. All of us liked. As reported on TV and morning newspapers, even the 'exalted' children- Rahul and Priyanka got wet. They seemed to have enjoyed every bit of the experience.
Rain is always a refreshing feeling. Nevertheless, too much of anything is not only bad, it may be also counter-productive. Did not we see it on the eve of CWG?
While going to Law Centre-1 in the afternoon, I felt the chill. Mummy made no mistake in pulling out an attractive pullover. Initially I thought, on a cool day (not a cold day), I was going to be an odd man out. But, I discovered soon to my pleasant surprise that I was a part and parcel of the bubbling mainstream.
Even though, no classes were held on a a casual day, such as, Saturday, the whole experience was exhilerating. Not only I did some 'Om Chanting', I tried also speaking to birds of the green campus. For the sake of friends, I got a glimpse of some from a distance. Of all the places, they got a refuse in our dirty toilet. However, the sight of ever helpful and reliable Netram made me happy.
Having waited for 1 hour and 30 minutes for the class, it was really nice to meet him. We exchanged useful notes about our first semester examination starting on First December 2010. Time was really short. And I was badly prepared. Therefore, on his advice and Mummy's instructions, I purchased a 'Duky' (D.U.Key), for the Criminal Law paper for Rs.75/-. My feeble bargaining skills ensured me a measurly 'saving' of only Rs. 5/-.
A vegetable pattie and a cup of tea with Netram during the dusk at SPIC-MCKEY became enjoyable. So was the Rick ride for 20 bucks.
When I felt the hustle & bustle and heat of the evening at VV Metro Station, I uttered the following while entering the swanky coach:
"Rain rain, come again
I may be in bus, or train
OR flying over a hilly terrain
I need healing and liberation
From the bouts of...........
Agony, stress and pain. "
AM I NOT ALIVE AND KICKING ?
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Over the Red River & the Blue hills
It is an early morning scene in the outskirts of growing city of Guwahati. I am rushing to catch IC-7751 flight to Dimapur and Imphal. Low volume of traffic on the way ensures early arrival at the airport. Tempted, I try my hand at the wheels in the North East for the first time. A lady staffer of Indian Airlines is walking very fast to report for duty. She gets a healthy competition from a male colleague. In view of the fact that there is no other flight, I presume that I am not late. At the entry point, one is subjected to checking of identity twice. It is irritating but can’t be helped. Next, one has to confront a long que at the X-ray baggage machine. Getting past that, one moves to check-in counter. The process is very slow not only for me but also for a family accompanying an old man on a wheel chair. Papers and envelopes held tightly by him give an indication that Iobi Singh has just been discharged by Dispur Hospitals. Soon I notice that display board is showing yesterdays date (31st July 2010). Till 6.12 a.m., no security check is announced. Two policemen, therefore, refuse entry. Finally, we cross the security barrier. Though the departure lounge looks deserted, my joy knows no bounds. After all, this is my maiden visit to Nagaland, the ‘Switzerland of the East’, a land blessed with lush green forests and immense natural beauty.
At 6.15 a.m. two pilots report for duty. The co-pilot happens to be an overweight woman. They are followed by two young and tall air hostesses. Even though the scheduled departure time is 6.30 a.m., the dilapidated and fit for ‘denting and painting’ kind of bus of Indian Airlines arrives late to pick up the passengers. Within five minutes we manage to enter the ATR craft. In no time, the air hostesses see to it that the passengers, including a fat “Sardarji” (making maximum noise) and a hassled housewife(running all over the place), settle down. At 6.42 taxing begins and the mini plane is airborne with a rapid speed, something akin to a Maruti Car, say about 25 years ago. I am fortunate not to have a co-passenger. This particular opportunity and overall solitude is befitting to enable scribbling a few lines for posterity.
The routine welcome announcement indicates that weather is fine and soothing at Dimapur. The hills around Guwahati and the mammoth Brahmaputra look gorgeous. It is water water all over. A few islands and a long river bridge catch attention. As we move up, thin layers of white clouds move like smoke. GCI sheets over roof tops sparkle magnificently in bright sunshine. Dense portions of the largest city of NER are now visible. One cannot see any landmark, however. Green, low hillocks do make a statement. Some of them abound in typical folds, last seen by me during a heli-ride in Tripura. My irresistible visible romance with nature gets a setback on hearing an un welcome announcement pertaining to unfastening of seat belt. Soon my confidence is restored on hearing another announcement commencing serving of breakfast.
When I resume looking through the window, large areas appear inundated. The mighty Brahmaputra gives the appearance of a sea. A few meandering streams give Him company. It appears as if the flying machine is destined to go gently along its course. I have noticed that whenever I am in a mood to write something in plane, I am invariably seated on the left side, an indication, perhaps of my left-tilted, if not left oriented thinking.
When I look further, patterns formed by the paddy fields and tiled huts look beautiful. Not only I am enjoying the beauty outside but get a fair dose inside as well, off and on. While boarding, the plane gave a God for shaken look from outside. Inside now, it looks cool, cosy and comfortable.
At 6.55 a.m., descent begins without any announcement. But there is no trace of the break-fast announced ten minutes ago. I need it badly to gulp four of my tablets to contain blood pressure and regulate heart beat. At last, a pair of tall air hostesses donning new Laheria Sari patterns of red, white and black colours makes an appearance with their trolleys. I look simultaneously at the white clouds with streaks of blue, far behind and the sumptuous looking snack packets. All said and done, Indian Airlines continues to be far better in hospitality than all ‘cheap’ private airlines put together. The breakfast, however, came in installments. First of all water bottles were served. Thereafter, came, a closed tray having three items – a vegetable patty, a twisted biscuit and a thick slice of brown cake with a pouch of sauce. Tea was conspicuous by its absence. The menu was same as I got while taking IC-7756 flight (Agartala - Guwahati) on 8th of July. Even though it is early in the day, I eat nicely and to my heart’s content.
The time is 7.10 hours. The descent is more prominent now. Large water bodies are no longer visible, rather serpentine roads amidst green patches keep appearing. Clouds also hover every now and then. Suddenly my attention is drawn to a coughing passenger behind my row. It came from Iobi Singh, the wheel chair bound old man. Now that Dimapur was not far behind, he must be waiting desperately to get off and immerse himself in his sweet home. When the plane further loses height, one can see small hillocks, a river, a stadium in construction and probably the railway station of Dimapur. The ‘S’ formation of another river attracts. From the colour of its water, one can make out that it has rained heavily up in hills. Oh no, the plane, instead of touching the aerodrome, gains height. Sunrays touch my face. They provide warm, soothing comfort. After five minutes or so descent begins again. One can feel the difference this time, both through eyes and ears. A patch of dense forest is seen. Landing is taking longer than expected. The view on my side of the window gives an impression as if we are gaining height. A look through the right window, on the other hand, brings us closer to the ground. At last at 7.20 hours, the landing announcement is made. For a moment, however, the plane almost stops in the mid air. Flying so low over a green patch has its own advantages. We are fortunate to be in the lap of an eco-friendly zone.
Soon Dimapur having a ground temperature of 28 degree is visible. The scenario described earlier is being repeated. Sharp at 7.25 we have a smooth landing. I presume that Iobi Singh is happier than me. I request for an extra bottle of water. The air hostess obliges with a smile. When I get closer to the terminal building, I notice a thick growth of grass on both sides of pathway. Instead of an airport official guiding me correctly to arrival lounge, it is a security man who does the duty. Again, instead of Airport Authority of India welcoming the passengers, it is a hoarding of SBI which has been allowed to do the honours. Exactly four passengers assemble in the conveyer belt zone. What a waste of aviation fuel and manpower, I think, while trying to locate Takum and Showuba. Soon I find them. While I experience joy, Iobi, perhaps, is still undergoing a bout of sorrow. Getting into a white Bolero (NL-01/C/7082), I see that Captain B.P. Shah is taking him and others to Imphal.
At 6.15 a.m. two pilots report for duty. The co-pilot happens to be an overweight woman. They are followed by two young and tall air hostesses. Even though the scheduled departure time is 6.30 a.m., the dilapidated and fit for ‘denting and painting’ kind of bus of Indian Airlines arrives late to pick up the passengers. Within five minutes we manage to enter the ATR craft. In no time, the air hostesses see to it that the passengers, including a fat “Sardarji” (making maximum noise) and a hassled housewife(running all over the place), settle down. At 6.42 taxing begins and the mini plane is airborne with a rapid speed, something akin to a Maruti Car, say about 25 years ago. I am fortunate not to have a co-passenger. This particular opportunity and overall solitude is befitting to enable scribbling a few lines for posterity.
The routine welcome announcement indicates that weather is fine and soothing at Dimapur. The hills around Guwahati and the mammoth Brahmaputra look gorgeous. It is water water all over. A few islands and a long river bridge catch attention. As we move up, thin layers of white clouds move like smoke. GCI sheets over roof tops sparkle magnificently in bright sunshine. Dense portions of the largest city of NER are now visible. One cannot see any landmark, however. Green, low hillocks do make a statement. Some of them abound in typical folds, last seen by me during a heli-ride in Tripura. My irresistible visible romance with nature gets a setback on hearing an un welcome announcement pertaining to unfastening of seat belt. Soon my confidence is restored on hearing another announcement commencing serving of breakfast.
When I resume looking through the window, large areas appear inundated. The mighty Brahmaputra gives the appearance of a sea. A few meandering streams give Him company. It appears as if the flying machine is destined to go gently along its course. I have noticed that whenever I am in a mood to write something in plane, I am invariably seated on the left side, an indication, perhaps of my left-tilted, if not left oriented thinking.
When I look further, patterns formed by the paddy fields and tiled huts look beautiful. Not only I am enjoying the beauty outside but get a fair dose inside as well, off and on. While boarding, the plane gave a God for shaken look from outside. Inside now, it looks cool, cosy and comfortable.
At 6.55 a.m., descent begins without any announcement. But there is no trace of the break-fast announced ten minutes ago. I need it badly to gulp four of my tablets to contain blood pressure and regulate heart beat. At last, a pair of tall air hostesses donning new Laheria Sari patterns of red, white and black colours makes an appearance with their trolleys. I look simultaneously at the white clouds with streaks of blue, far behind and the sumptuous looking snack packets. All said and done, Indian Airlines continues to be far better in hospitality than all ‘cheap’ private airlines put together. The breakfast, however, came in installments. First of all water bottles were served. Thereafter, came, a closed tray having three items – a vegetable patty, a twisted biscuit and a thick slice of brown cake with a pouch of sauce. Tea was conspicuous by its absence. The menu was same as I got while taking IC-7756 flight (Agartala - Guwahati) on 8th of July. Even though it is early in the day, I eat nicely and to my heart’s content.
The time is 7.10 hours. The descent is more prominent now. Large water bodies are no longer visible, rather serpentine roads amidst green patches keep appearing. Clouds also hover every now and then. Suddenly my attention is drawn to a coughing passenger behind my row. It came from Iobi Singh, the wheel chair bound old man. Now that Dimapur was not far behind, he must be waiting desperately to get off and immerse himself in his sweet home. When the plane further loses height, one can see small hillocks, a river, a stadium in construction and probably the railway station of Dimapur. The ‘S’ formation of another river attracts. From the colour of its water, one can make out that it has rained heavily up in hills. Oh no, the plane, instead of touching the aerodrome, gains height. Sunrays touch my face. They provide warm, soothing comfort. After five minutes or so descent begins again. One can feel the difference this time, both through eyes and ears. A patch of dense forest is seen. Landing is taking longer than expected. The view on my side of the window gives an impression as if we are gaining height. A look through the right window, on the other hand, brings us closer to the ground. At last at 7.20 hours, the landing announcement is made. For a moment, however, the plane almost stops in the mid air. Flying so low over a green patch has its own advantages. We are fortunate to be in the lap of an eco-friendly zone.
Soon Dimapur having a ground temperature of 28 degree is visible. The scenario described earlier is being repeated. Sharp at 7.25 we have a smooth landing. I presume that Iobi Singh is happier than me. I request for an extra bottle of water. The air hostess obliges with a smile. When I get closer to the terminal building, I notice a thick growth of grass on both sides of pathway. Instead of an airport official guiding me correctly to arrival lounge, it is a security man who does the duty. Again, instead of Airport Authority of India welcoming the passengers, it is a hoarding of SBI which has been allowed to do the honours. Exactly four passengers assemble in the conveyer belt zone. What a waste of aviation fuel and manpower, I think, while trying to locate Takum and Showuba. Soon I find them. While I experience joy, Iobi, perhaps, is still undergoing a bout of sorrow. Getting into a white Bolero (NL-01/C/7082), I see that Captain B.P. Shah is taking him and others to Imphal.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
MYSTERY CALLED MIND
It is good to be blessed with an intelligent bent of mind. For creativity, however, high level of intelligence may not be a prerequisite. Nek Chand, the creator of Rock Garden, Chandigarh is a burning example. In the same way, for invention or discovery, one need not have a stereo typed normal brain. Great scientists of the order of Einstein or Newton were not normal children by traditional standards, to start with. Nevertheless, they succeeded in not only impressing the World but they also left a long felt impact on day to day life by their inventions.
At the other extreme, there are scientists, such as, Stephen Hawking who continues to excel despite being inflicted with Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS) in his thirties. Still at another extreme, we have some bright minds, who complete a course at a relatively younger age, but not all of them taste success in tune with their initial prowess. Also many unsung heroes changing the lot of oppressed masses by their silent, yet determined actions do not get noticed.
All said and done, human mind has been always curious to know the background & making of a genius. Such a curiosity has led to long gestation research on cloning, (outcome of which may not have found acceptance). But to ‘programme’ a genius child is rarest of the rare phenomenon. It means initiating the conception process at the right time of the day or night and to have right diet beforehand and mental state (mood).
Prof. Tulsi Narayan Prasad, a Supreme Court Advocate and a serious practitioner of Astro-genetics, whose 20 year old son Dr. Tathagat Avatar Tulsi has become country’s youngest Professor ( of Physics) at IIT, Mumbai, claims to have ‘planned’ for his child well before he was actually born. Soon after his birth, Prof. Prasad had declared that the sex of to be born child could be manipulated. He goes on to add that through the science of eugenics one can ensure that a child will achieve the desired traits.
Tathagat, named among the World’s seven most gifted youngsters in 2003 and hailed widely as a child prodigy, finished high school at the age of nine, B.Sc at the age of ten and M.Sc before experiencing his twelfth spring. His super-intelligence apart, he was confronted with adjustment problems with his peer group. Nevertheless, he was destined to learn the art of pretending to be normal. How he copes up with his bright students now, remains to be observed and researched. An ardent follower of Albert Einstein, his dream is to win a Nobel Prize. Needless to say, his future research has to be keenly followed.
More than anything else, it is the spirit of getting things done with right intentions which matters in the ultimate analysis. Honesty and sincerity have the potential to produce vital and influential force to perform arduous tasks. With proper guidance and impetus even ordinary people can produce extraordinary results. They should not compromise on their zeal and commitment.
At the other extreme, there are scientists, such as, Stephen Hawking who continues to excel despite being inflicted with Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS) in his thirties. Still at another extreme, we have some bright minds, who complete a course at a relatively younger age, but not all of them taste success in tune with their initial prowess. Also many unsung heroes changing the lot of oppressed masses by their silent, yet determined actions do not get noticed.
All said and done, human mind has been always curious to know the background & making of a genius. Such a curiosity has led to long gestation research on cloning, (outcome of which may not have found acceptance). But to ‘programme’ a genius child is rarest of the rare phenomenon. It means initiating the conception process at the right time of the day or night and to have right diet beforehand and mental state (mood).
Prof. Tulsi Narayan Prasad, a Supreme Court Advocate and a serious practitioner of Astro-genetics, whose 20 year old son Dr. Tathagat Avatar Tulsi has become country’s youngest Professor ( of Physics) at IIT, Mumbai, claims to have ‘planned’ for his child well before he was actually born. Soon after his birth, Prof. Prasad had declared that the sex of to be born child could be manipulated. He goes on to add that through the science of eugenics one can ensure that a child will achieve the desired traits.
Tathagat, named among the World’s seven most gifted youngsters in 2003 and hailed widely as a child prodigy, finished high school at the age of nine, B.Sc at the age of ten and M.Sc before experiencing his twelfth spring. His super-intelligence apart, he was confronted with adjustment problems with his peer group. Nevertheless, he was destined to learn the art of pretending to be normal. How he copes up with his bright students now, remains to be observed and researched. An ardent follower of Albert Einstein, his dream is to win a Nobel Prize. Needless to say, his future research has to be keenly followed.
More than anything else, it is the spirit of getting things done with right intentions which matters in the ultimate analysis. Honesty and sincerity have the potential to produce vital and influential force to perform arduous tasks. With proper guidance and impetus even ordinary people can produce extraordinary results. They should not compromise on their zeal and commitment.
MYSTERY CALLED MIND
It is good to be blessed with an intelligent bent of mind. For creativity, however, high level of intelligence may not be a prerequisite. Nek Chand, the creator of Rock Garden, Chandigarh is a burning example. In the same way, for invention or discovery, one need not have a stereo typed normal brain. Great scientists of the order of Einstein or Newton were not normal children by traditional standards, to start with. Nevertheless, they succeeded in not only impressing the World but they also left a long felt impact on day to day life by their inventions.
At the other extreme, there are scientists, such as, Stephen Hawking who continues to excel despite being inflicted with Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS) in his thirties. Still at another extreme, we have some bright minds, who complete a course at a relatively younger age, but not all of them taste success in tune with their initial prowess. Also many unsung heroes changing the lot of oppressed masses by their silent, yet determined actions do not get noticed.
All said and done, human mind has been always curious to know the background & making of a genius. Such a curiosity has led to long gestation research on cloning, (outcome of which may not have found acceptance). But to ‘programme’ a genius child is rarest of the rare phenomenon. It means initiating the conception process at the right time of the day or night and to have right diet beforehand and mental state (mood).
Prof. Tulsi Narayan Prasad, a Supreme Court Advocate and a serious practitioner of Astro-genetics, whose 20 year old son Dr. Tathagat Avatar Tulsi has become country’s youngest Professor ( of Physics) at IIT, Mumbai, claims to have ‘planned’ for his child well before he was actually born. Soon after his birth, Prof. Prasad had declared that the sex of to be born child could be manipulated. He goes on to add that through the science of eugenics one can ensure that a child will achieve the desired traits.
Tathagat, named among the World’s seven most gifted youngsters in 2003 and hailed widely as a child prodigy, finished high school at the age of nine, B.Sc at the age of ten and M.Sc before experiencing his twelfth spring. His super-intelligence apart, he was confronted with adjustment problems with his peer group. Nevertheless, he was destined to learn the art of pretending to be normal. How he copes up with his bright students now, remains to be observed and researched. An ardent follower of Albert Einstein, his dream is to win a Nobel Prize. Needless to say, his future research has to be keenly followed.
More than anything else, it is the spirit of getting things done with right intentions which matters in the ultimate analysis. Honesty and sincerity have the potential to produce vital and influential force to perform arduous tasks. With proper guidance and impetus even ordinary people can produce extraordinary results. They should not compromise on their zeal and commitment.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
BLIND JEWEL
A few days ago, I happened to be in the eco-friendly colony of Oil India at Narengi in the outskirts of Guwahati. While I visited this beautiful colony after a gap of 19 years, I was meeting my old buddy and son of soil-Bhasker after exactly eight years. The setting was, therefore, congenial, for a walk down the memory lane. While I was trying to recall as to what I did walking, 19 years ago, what did I eat and who all did I talk to, a heart touching song “Yeh Dunia Ye Mehfil,Mere Kaam Ki Nahin” began being telecast. I was immediately attracted to the T.V. set. While I attempted to adjust the picture quality and increase the volume, Bhasker smiled in unision. He seemed to have liked the tune if not followed the words. Given the fact that I had heard it on innumerable occasions and was fortunate to have watched the movie Heer Ranjha, I remembered the song by heart. Two more popular songs from the movies Kajal and Neelkamal followed in quick succession.
Rajkumar and Mohammed Rafi made a formidable combination. While the former was famous for his restrained acting and inimitable dialogue delivery skills, latter was undisputed king of male singers of his time.
When we were children, it would be impossible to have a ‘darshan’ of your favourite star or singer apart from seeing the former in the latest releases. There was no T.V. or Internet. Accordingly, if permitted by parents or even by one of them (a risky situation altogether), we would simply grab an opportunity to listen to the local singers imitating the famous ones of Bombay(Mumbai since 1995) in the ‘lighted’ darkness of night.
Moti Vinayak, a blind singer with a deep voice was a force to reckon with in Ranchi. He had undisputed mastery over the Rafi songs especially the ones mentioned above. Due to his obvious marketing handicaps he would not command a high price but once he emerged on the illuminated stage, there will be a complete silence, followed by a wide applause. He would churn out old melodies of Rafi in a comfortable way till the moment came for singing according to request of the audience. He will please all who liked, loved and worshipped Md.Rafi.
With the passage of time, I shifted to Delhi for higher studies. My feeble interest in music waned over time. I tried to rekindle it while undergoing training at Mussoorie. But nothing substantial of this revival can be talked about.
In Feb 1986,came the occasion to distribute blankets to the poor and the destitudes. As a young BDO of Kanke Block, I made all preparations meticulously for this social service even though it was funded by the Government. The short function began in time. I had given strict instructions for distribution only to the needy. By the time we finished seventy percent of the beneficiaries, one could notice a commotion a few metres away. It was reported that an old man was unable to move forward to the dias due to pain in his legs.
I decided spontaneously to get closer to him to hand over a blanket. Tears rolled down my cheeks when his name was read out. It was none other than Moti Vinayak, the carbon copy of Md.Rafi and my favourite for many years. When I gave an inkling of my liking of him, he could not show any reaction. He could neither say yes nor no to my desire to hear a Rafi song from him. I gathered enough courage to hand over two blankets(against one permitted) to Motiji as I felt for him from core of my heart. It was indeed unfortunate that such a gifted and talented singer had been relegated to the status of a beggar. He must have ‘gone with the winds’ soon. Had he been alive, he would have sparkled in this age of reality shows.
Rajkumar and Mohammed Rafi made a formidable combination. While the former was famous for his restrained acting and inimitable dialogue delivery skills, latter was undisputed king of male singers of his time.
When we were children, it would be impossible to have a ‘darshan’ of your favourite star or singer apart from seeing the former in the latest releases. There was no T.V. or Internet. Accordingly, if permitted by parents or even by one of them (a risky situation altogether), we would simply grab an opportunity to listen to the local singers imitating the famous ones of Bombay(Mumbai since 1995) in the ‘lighted’ darkness of night.
Moti Vinayak, a blind singer with a deep voice was a force to reckon with in Ranchi. He had undisputed mastery over the Rafi songs especially the ones mentioned above. Due to his obvious marketing handicaps he would not command a high price but once he emerged on the illuminated stage, there will be a complete silence, followed by a wide applause. He would churn out old melodies of Rafi in a comfortable way till the moment came for singing according to request of the audience. He will please all who liked, loved and worshipped Md.Rafi.
With the passage of time, I shifted to Delhi for higher studies. My feeble interest in music waned over time. I tried to rekindle it while undergoing training at Mussoorie. But nothing substantial of this revival can be talked about.
In Feb 1986,came the occasion to distribute blankets to the poor and the destitudes. As a young BDO of Kanke Block, I made all preparations meticulously for this social service even though it was funded by the Government. The short function began in time. I had given strict instructions for distribution only to the needy. By the time we finished seventy percent of the beneficiaries, one could notice a commotion a few metres away. It was reported that an old man was unable to move forward to the dias due to pain in his legs.
I decided spontaneously to get closer to him to hand over a blanket. Tears rolled down my cheeks when his name was read out. It was none other than Moti Vinayak, the carbon copy of Md.Rafi and my favourite for many years. When I gave an inkling of my liking of him, he could not show any reaction. He could neither say yes nor no to my desire to hear a Rafi song from him. I gathered enough courage to hand over two blankets(against one permitted) to Motiji as I felt for him from core of my heart. It was indeed unfortunate that such a gifted and talented singer had been relegated to the status of a beggar. He must have ‘gone with the winds’ soon. Had he been alive, he would have sparkled in this age of reality shows.
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