Sunday, 22 September 2013
Review in 'Free Press Journal'
Review in 'Afternoon Voice'
Saturday, 17 March 2012
Chandragupta ..Chapter - 8 ( The Battle of Kusumbha Fort )
......The archers belonging to Chandragupta's deputy Baali managed to eliminate the guards on Kusumbha fort's outer wall in the darkness of night. Some trained climbers threw ropes with anchors on the outer wall of the fort and climbed it. Just before sunrise,Baali and his men used ladders made of wooden planks and rope dropped from above to scale the huge outer wall of the fort. When they dropped down on the other side of the wall, Baali and his twenty men found themselves in a pool of a water barricade which ran around the boundary of the fort. Baali instructed his men, “Just an obstruction, don't worry just walk” . The water barricade between the outer and inner wall of the fort was deeper than they had expected. Most soldiers were neck deep into water. Baali who was very well built had the water level upto the upper part of his stomach. The palace guards had quickly deployed their archers who were now shooting arrows at them in the dark. The arrows were splashing into the water left and right. One of them digging into the arm of a rebel soldier standing ahead of Baali . Baali instructed his men , “Do not swallow the water, it may have poison mixed into it”. To which one of the shorter men from behind who had water till his face replied jovially, “If the water was poisoned, I would have been dead by now. Its salty though”. One of the men stepped onto something metallic and PHAT !, the metallic jaws of the trap snapped and closed. He gave out a sharp cry of pain grabbing his leg under water. Baali instructed his men, “Keep soft steps, there are metallic traps inside this water which can crush every bone in your toe when it snaps and closes”. The hustling and bustling increased on the top of the inner wall. There was a creaking sound of some metal gates getting opened. By now the rebel group of Baali and his some twenty men were in the middle of the water barricade almost fully submerged in water, more men were joining them from behind. Faint ripples appeared in the water from all sides. One of the rebel soldiers cried out in pain and the one next to him screamed in horror............
Monday, 16 January 2012
Chapter 1 (First Half) : Chandragupta - Path of a Fallen Demigod
This was not going to be just another day, though it started like one. The latter half of the day was going to spring an unexpected turn of events. A fixed set of mundane rural activities were attached in a sequence to his routine. There were largely no deviations to this set pattern. Chandra got up from sleep like all days much before sunrise. Today again he had seen the same wretched nightmare in his sleep. A hazy image of him and his mother standing barefoot, picking low value coins from cracked barren ground which were seemingly falling from the sky in a sun scorched hot afternoon. The coins were falling into the cracks on the ground. “Why doesn’t this leave me?” he thought to himself. The oil of the only lamp illuminating the small hut was long over, and the hut was gripped by pitch darkness. His eyes were however trained to see in this low visibility. Looking outside the door of his hut he could see fireflies and hear creaking sound of insects in the dark.
Rubbing his half closed eyes in the dark, he started his walk to the dumping ground area with a small pot of water in his hands. This place was a wasteland of tall grass, shrubs and some drying trees which villagers who had no private toilets, actually almost all the inhabitants of the village would use in the morning. He midway met his best friend and neighbour, a rather good looking boy called Swarit. In the darkness they had to select a place nobody else was sitting and where there were no thorny plants else it would poke them in the wrong places when they squatted. Today they got a place on either side of a dry tree and dug two small pits into the ground on either side to relieve themselves. While squatting with their back facing the dry tree on either side, they started talking on subjects ranging from their problems to the condition of the village to their ambitions. Swarit wanted to be an artist in plays, Chandra was not sure what he wanted to become in life. All he knew was that he hated the peacock taming profession of his ancestors. This intellectual discussion during the private moment would go on till the two friends felt lighter in their stomach again. After covering the pit with soil, they washed their hands with water and some ash at Swarit’s hut. Then the friends would break a stick from the nearby neem tree to clean their teeth by chewing the bitter stick, washing their face and rinsing their mouth with water before going to the farm.
Being a follower of Hinduism, Chandra first prayed to the Sun god and later his farm which was his source of livelihood. This had been his routine since his grandfather’s days. Back then, they would together go for a stroll after these prayers.
Chandra’s grandfather made a controlled fire and created some farm land out of the edge of a forest area many years ago. After two years of possession and no disputes from anybody, he got his ownership of the land documented on a copper plate. He had nominated his grandson to inherit the land after his death. It was a mid-sized farm. The old man had this habit of smoking cannabis from a clay pipe. Chandra saw him turn from a strong healthy man, to a weak one, to become a badly made portrait on the walls of his mud house. After his grandfather’s death, Chandra and his mother felt orphaned. However, with time they learned to pull on.
Chandra’s mother Muraa would often suffer from a bad headache. She used to make his lunch in the morning itself and dinner in the afternoon so that he need not prepare anything during a hectic day. Then towards the latter half of the morning she would make fans, artifacts out of peacock feathers and some small handicrafts of cane. A customized “ladies beauty kit” being her speciality. The whole hut was full of artifacts made of peacock feathers. By the afternoon she would have severe headache, she would tie a strip of cloth tightly around her head and then she would not get up from bed till the next morning. That was her normal day.
Chandra started his work by drawing water from a well on the edge of his land into his two clay pots. This well was on the edge of his farm boundary. His grandfather had spent considerable amount of time and money in the digging activity for this deep well. The water level was now too low and the rope used for pulling out the water was now fully utilized almost reaching the bottom of the well. He would draw the water up, fill and drag the clay pots of water to his farm. However, by the time he reached his destination, half of the water would have anyway spilled out the clay pots. Then he would push water into the narrow alleys across his farm. The more water he pushed into the field the more it disappeared into the small cracks that had now appeared in the farm. His village was called Gaval and was part of the Magadha kingdom. This area referred in official records as Kajangala was in a state of constant drought for the past three years. The irrigation system that the ruling Nanda Kings of Magadha had built was now proving ineffective. Low quantity of muddy slush was now what was available out of these irrigation systems for their farms. Being practical, Chandra thought that using this thick mud to plaster the walls of his hut was a good idea to make this irrigation system be of some use to the poor farmers. Chandra then went to his hut to get the wooden plough and ox he had borrowed for a couple of days from his grandfather’s friend. He was the Gramapala or headman of the village and lived nearby. He then ploughed the other side of his farm in the heat of the scorching sun. This was in preparation for the crop in the coming season. It was a tedious manual process, the land on this side was hard and the boy had to exert a lot of force to loosen it. All this work with just air and lots of water in his stomach. This activity once completed left Chandra panting and sweating. He then walked across to Swarit’s house and collected cow dung from his cattle shed of three cows. The cows, just like the villagers were also not getting enough grass to eat, a skeleton of a cow had very less to offer, so even cow dung was a precious commodity. This dung was the fertilizer for Chandra’s crops which was different this year. Normally the farmers in this area used to grow Sali rice. However this year water shortage left no scope for cultivation of rice. Chandra and Swarit’s father were growing millets this summer season. These were the crops suited for near famine situations, also millets provided good fodder for Swarit’s cows. Both families used to exchange whatever little was left of the produce. Their meals were standard, lunch was bread made of sorghum and dinner was porridge made of millets. However once in a while, Swarit used to be kind to share some part of the excess milk in his house with Chandra so that he can have some variety in his food intake. Maintaining a cow was also getting difficult. Swarit’s father was burdened by the announcement of increase in cattle tax which was effective from the coming year.
Rubbing his half closed eyes in the dark, he started his walk to the dumping ground area with a small pot of water in his hands. This place was a wasteland of tall grass, shrubs and some drying trees which villagers who had no private toilets, actually almost all the inhabitants of the village would use in the morning. He midway met his best friend and neighbour, a rather good looking boy called Swarit. In the darkness they had to select a place nobody else was sitting and where there were no thorny plants else it would poke them in the wrong places when they squatted. Today they got a place on either side of a dry tree and dug two small pits into the ground on either side to relieve themselves. While squatting with their back facing the dry tree on either side, they started talking on subjects ranging from their problems to the condition of the village to their ambitions. Swarit wanted to be an artist in plays, Chandra was not sure what he wanted to become in life. All he knew was that he hated the peacock taming profession of his ancestors. This intellectual discussion during the private moment would go on till the two friends felt lighter in their stomach again. After covering the pit with soil, they washed their hands with water and some ash at Swarit’s hut. Then the friends would break a stick from the nearby neem tree to clean their teeth by chewing the bitter stick, washing their face and rinsing their mouth with water before going to the farm.
Being a follower of Hinduism, Chandra first prayed to the Sun god and later his farm which was his source of livelihood. This had been his routine since his grandfather’s days. Back then, they would together go for a stroll after these prayers.
Chandra’s grandfather made a controlled fire and created some farm land out of the edge of a forest area many years ago. After two years of possession and no disputes from anybody, he got his ownership of the land documented on a copper plate. He had nominated his grandson to inherit the land after his death. It was a mid-sized farm. The old man had this habit of smoking cannabis from a clay pipe. Chandra saw him turn from a strong healthy man, to a weak one, to become a badly made portrait on the walls of his mud house. After his grandfather’s death, Chandra and his mother felt orphaned. However, with time they learned to pull on.
Chandra’s mother Muraa would often suffer from a bad headache. She used to make his lunch in the morning itself and dinner in the afternoon so that he need not prepare anything during a hectic day. Then towards the latter half of the morning she would make fans, artifacts out of peacock feathers and some small handicrafts of cane. A customized “ladies beauty kit” being her speciality. The whole hut was full of artifacts made of peacock feathers. By the afternoon she would have severe headache, she would tie a strip of cloth tightly around her head and then she would not get up from bed till the next morning. That was her normal day.
Chandra started his work by drawing water from a well on the edge of his land into his two clay pots. This well was on the edge of his farm boundary. His grandfather had spent considerable amount of time and money in the digging activity for this deep well. The water level was now too low and the rope used for pulling out the water was now fully utilized almost reaching the bottom of the well. He would draw the water up, fill and drag the clay pots of water to his farm. However, by the time he reached his destination, half of the water would have anyway spilled out the clay pots. Then he would push water into the narrow alleys across his farm. The more water he pushed into the field the more it disappeared into the small cracks that had now appeared in the farm. His village was called Gaval and was part of the Magadha kingdom. This area referred in official records as Kajangala was in a state of constant drought for the past three years. The irrigation system that the ruling Nanda Kings of Magadha had built was now proving ineffective. Low quantity of muddy slush was now what was available out of these irrigation systems for their farms. Being practical, Chandra thought that using this thick mud to plaster the walls of his hut was a good idea to make this irrigation system be of some use to the poor farmers. Chandra then went to his hut to get the wooden plough and ox he had borrowed for a couple of days from his grandfather’s friend. He was the Gramapala or headman of the village and lived nearby. He then ploughed the other side of his farm in the heat of the scorching sun. This was in preparation for the crop in the coming season. It was a tedious manual process, the land on this side was hard and the boy had to exert a lot of force to loosen it. All this work with just air and lots of water in his stomach. This activity once completed left Chandra panting and sweating. He then walked across to Swarit’s house and collected cow dung from his cattle shed of three cows. The cows, just like the villagers were also not getting enough grass to eat, a skeleton of a cow had very less to offer, so even cow dung was a precious commodity. This dung was the fertilizer for Chandra’s crops which was different this year. Normally the farmers in this area used to grow Sali rice. However this year water shortage left no scope for cultivation of rice. Chandra and Swarit’s father were growing millets this summer season. These were the crops suited for near famine situations, also millets provided good fodder for Swarit’s cows. Both families used to exchange whatever little was left of the produce. Their meals were standard, lunch was bread made of sorghum and dinner was porridge made of millets. However once in a while, Swarit used to be kind to share some part of the excess milk in his house with Chandra so that he can have some variety in his food intake. Maintaining a cow was also getting difficult. Swarit’s father was burdened by the announcement of increase in cattle tax which was effective from the coming year.
Sunday, 4 December 2011
Rebirth of Heroes from the Past
I had heard the legend of a young man called Bhagat Singh who had sacrificed his life for his country at a young age when most people start their life. Some years back I saw another young man who became a martyr for his nation at a very young age, his name was Major Sandeep Unnikrishnan .
I had also heard the legend of the 'Iron Man', Sardar Patel who stood by his principles and created fears in the minds of those who were against the concept of our country. Some years back I saw another man who had that same resolve of steel and who was feared by anti-social elements who trembled at the mention of his name, this iron-man was Senior Inspector Vijay Salaskar. We shall never forget your sacrifice. God Bless our country !
I had also heard the legend of the 'Iron Man', Sardar Patel who stood by his principles and created fears in the minds of those who were against the concept of our country. Some years back I saw another man who had that same resolve of steel and who was feared by anti-social elements who trembled at the mention of his name, this iron-man was Senior Inspector Vijay Salaskar. We shall never forget your sacrifice. God Bless our country !
Sunday, 27 November 2011
On the third anniversary of 26/11
I had heard the legend of a young man called Bhagat Singh who had sacrificed his life for his country at a young age when most people start their life. Three years back I saw another young man who became a martyr for his nation at a very young age, his name was Major Sandeep Unnikrishnan ................... I had also heard the legend of the 'Iron Man', Sardar Patel who stood by his principles and created fears in the minds of those who were against the concept of our country. Three years back I saw another man who had that same resolve of steel and who was feared by anti-social elements who trembled at the mention of his name, this iron-man was Senior Inspector Vijay Salaskar. We shall never forget your sacrifice. God Bless our country !
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)