Wings of Imagination!!!

I still remember 11th February 2011—the day I walked into Bharat Heavy Electricals Limited.

It did not feel like joining a company.

It felt like arriving somewhere I had already belonged to, long before I knew it.

My first encounter with BHEL wasn’t as an employee, but as a young student at NPTI. Engineer trainees would come for their residential programmes—there was a quiet confidence about them, an unspoken identity. They carried BHEL within them. I didn’t understand it fully then, but I felt it.

That feeling deepened during my time at LNJ Bhilwara Group somewhere in August of 2009.

We had just reached Banswara for a 2×46 MW thermal power plant. There was a planned shutdown, and we were told to be ready—someone important was coming. We were curious. Who could it be, in a place like Banswara?

And then we saw him—a retired BHEL engineer.

There was no announcement, no ceremony. But the moment he began working on the turbine, something shifted. It was as if the machine responded to him. With quiet authority and deep familiarity, he moved through it—effortlessly, almost instinctively.

We stood there in awe.

It was not just skill. It was belonging.

Decades of experience, discipline, and identity—living within a single person.

And in that moment, a thought settled within me, firm and clear:

If I ever work for an organisation, it has to be BHEL.

Years later, I found myself there.

And BHEL was everything I had imagined—and more.

It was vast, almost overwhelming in its scale. I saw it in its strength, when it posted its highest profit in 2011. I also saw it in vulnerability, when it recorded losses in 2017 for the first time. But beyond numbers, what stayed with me was something far deeper.

BHEL had a way of holding its people.

Not through policies or systems, but through shared experience—through long days at project sites, through silent struggles, through the kind of work that binds people together without needing words. Once you became a part of it, it never really let you go. It held you within its fold.

My years there were intense.

Three power projects. Endless responsibilities. Relationships that tested and strengthened me. It was never just engineering—it was life in its rawest, most demanding form.

And somewhere along the way, I began to change.

I travelled—across roads, flights, trains, and buses. From mountains to plains, from structured plants to ash ponds, every journey added something within me. I wasn’t just moving across places—I was moving closer to myself.

I found mentors who shaped me. Friends who became irreplaceable. I was recognised, trusted, sometimes even feared—and all of it carved my character in ways I only understand now.

Which is why leaving was not just difficult.

It felt like tearing away a part of my own being.

On my last day, as I walked towards the gate, everything outside was the same—but inside, something had broken.

I wept.

Not quietly, not with restraint—but deeply, uncontrollably. Years of attachment, identity, and unspoken emotion finding their way out all at once.

Salil—my junior in college, but my batchmate in BHEL—stood beside me. He didn’t try to fix anything. He simply stayed.

I sat in my car, trying to gather myself.

Behind me stood BHEL.

Ahead of me—uncertainty.

And then my phone buzzed.

A message from DoPT.

My service—earlier allotted to IRS (Customs & Excise)—had been upgraded to the Indian Foreign Service.

I remember staring at the screen, unable to process the moment.

Life, in its own quiet way, had turned a page.

And yet, even today, something remains unchanged.

Even today, when I hear the name BHEL,

it strikes a chord deep within me.

And in an instant, those years return—

not as memories, but like a film unfolding before my eyes.

The roads, the plants, the people, the struggles, the laughter…

all of it, alive again, if only for a moment.

That is when I realise—

I never really left.

Some places don’t stay behind in time.

They stay within you, waiting for a name, a sound, a memory—

to come alive again.

The Illusion We Live In

          Imagine a flower in a pot placed near a window. When it looks outward, it doesn’t see the real world—it only sees its reflection in the glass. To the flower, this reflection is reality. But we, as observers, know that what it perceives is only a projection, not the truth.

          Our lives work in much the same way. We perceive reality not as it truly is but as it appears through the filters of our experiences, societal conditioning, and limited understanding. This concept is closely related to bounded rationality, a term used in psychology and decision-making, which suggests that our ability to perceive and make choices is limited by the information we have and the cognitive biases we carry.

          Take, for example, a person born into a specific culture or tradition. Their worldview is shaped by the norms and beliefs of that society. If they never step outside of it, they may believe that their way of thinking is the only way. But what if they could question those norms? What if they could see beyond the reflection in the glass?

Breaking Away: The Path of the Seeker

          Throughout history, those who sought the deeper truths of existence had to step away from societal structures to see beyond the illusion. In Hinduism, sages often retreated to forests or mountains, seeking solitude to free their minds from the repetitive patterns of everyday life.

          One of the most famous examples is Siddhartha Gautama, the Buddha. He lived as a prince, surrounded by luxury, comfort, and worldly pleasures. Yet, he realized that his perception of reality was limited—he was seeing only a reflection, not the truth. To understand life’s true nature, he had to leave everything behind. His journey of self-discovery led him to enlightenment, and he later taught others how to break free from illusion.

          Buddha’s teaching— "Appo Deepo Bhava" (Be a light unto yourself)—reminds us that true understanding does not come from outside sources but from within. Society often encourages repetition because it brings order and stability. Those who conform are accepted, while those who question or break away are seen as outliers. But real transformation requires independence—not just physical, but mental and emotional independence.

Degrees of Freedom: A Scientific Perspective

          In physics, degrees of freedom refer to how many independent ways a system can move. For example:

A car on a straight road has one degree of freedom—it can only move forward or backward.

A drone in the sky has six degrees of freedom—it can move forward, backward, up, down, and rotate in different directions.

          Similarly, in life, our ability to act freely depends on the constraints we face. The more societal rules, personal fears, or biases we carry, the fewer degrees of freedom we have.

          For instance, a person stuck in a routine job with little creative expression might feel like they have only one degree of freedom—going to work and coming home. On the other hand, an artist who has embraced uncertainty and independence might have many degrees of freedom, able to explore and express without limitation.

          One of the most effective ways to increase our degrees of freedom is through meditation and self-awareness. Just as astronauts in space experience reduced gravitational pull and can move more freely, an enlightened mind is not bound by the 'gravity' of societal conditioning.

Science and Spirituality: Converging Paths

          Many ancient spiritual teachings seem to align with modern scientific discoveries. It is said that Buddha described the concept of the Big Bang to his disciple Ananda, explaining how the universe expands and contracts in cycles. This idea is strikingly similar to the modern scientific theory of an oscillating universe—a concept that physicists have explored only in recent centuries.

          Another example is the idea of interconnectedness, which Buddha taught through the concept of dependent origination—the idea that nothing exists independently, and everything is interdependent. Today, quantum physics suggests a similar view: particles at a quantum level are entangled, meaning they can influence each other across vast distances, something that defies our classical understanding of reality.

          This raises an important question: If deep meditative states allowed Buddha to perceive truths that science is only now beginning to uncover, could the human mind, when freed from distractions, reveal even greater knowledge?

The Ultimate Question: Are We Ready?

          The modern world emphasizes external progress—technology, space exploration, artificial intelligence—but often neglects inner exploration. Our lives are increasingly dependent on systems that dictate how we think, work, and interact.

          But just as Buddha left his palace to seek wisdom, each of us has the choice to step beyond our current perceptions. It doesn’t necessarily mean leaving everything behind—it means questioning, reflecting, and striving for a deeper understanding of reality.

          Are we ready to expand our degrees of freedom? Are we prepared to seek the light within rather than chasing reflections? The path to freedom is open, but only those who dare to see beyond the illusion will walk it.

I have been emotional, and it happens when you know that you are going out of the country, away from your family, friends. And most importantly I happen to remember our old house or the first own house of my father. All this culminated from a dream I had of visiting it. It has been almost 33 years since we left it and moved to a smaller house, an apartment precisely.

So just like that, I took some time off and went to the place. My dad inquired about where am I going but, I kept it personal and I am pretty sure that like me, he would have gone there many times just to see it, how looks like now.

A blast of memories struck me as soon I entered the locality. I remember searching its roof whenever I passed by the road just behind it so that I can get glimpses of it. Nostalgia was all over, the moment I entered the ‘not so wide lanes and abbeys’ it reminded me of our days in this house, the locality like a projection of a film. The abbey where I played while still as a small kid of 3 years. The first friend I made everything was going in frames in front of me.

Slowly and step by step I moved towards our old home, line by line, house by house, house of our neighbours where we played hide and seek appeared first. In my mind I see them, their small rooms and rickety old furniture. I remember their faces, young at those times, their relatives, and their long and odd names.

I looked up, the gali has changed, the old buildings have vanished and taken over by tall new buildings of aesthetics and colours. The simplicity is gone and paved way for commercialization.

The charpoys where our neighbours used to sit and talk have vanished. The bonhomie and chats have now gone. They say people don’t mingle like earlier days; the tall buildings have made difficult for their hearts to get connected. It is harsh I know, how simple people become sophisticated with money and power.

And finally, I saw it. Standing as we left it, in a dilapidated state, but it looks all the same. The home we used to see in old photos, our first home was in front of me like a living legend. The grey coloured grained-gravel walls ‘so that we don’t have to waste money in repainting’, seems to have stood the test of time. It was like traversing through a time machine in the era of black and white. There were colours at that time too but not that prominent, may be the population at that time was not much aligned to the aesthetics but to the humane values. Nowadays the homes have colours but not values.

The rectangular window overseeing the gali was still visible but blocked with bricks.The entrance to Staircase and the channel guarding the staircase was still in place. I remember how the mesh of the channel amused me and it might have been the very first shape which caught my attention. I never till now knew why I had a liking to shapes and building but who knows the channel might have the starting point. I saw a lemon and chilli hung on its head, like sermonising that the place still have its current resident living in it.

I remained seized; a glimpse of the door made me emotional. The door looked the same, the colour is same pitch blue. The years of paint might have made several coats on it but I know inside it, is a barren iron door. Soft it would have been on inside, like how we all pretend to be the strongest of men but, we are all weak from are inside. We all try to look strong, but we know that somewhere within us is that soft part which weeps when we go away from our parents, our brothers, and sisters. We all go away, leave our houses and parents, friends.

My dad left his village to earn here in Delhi. He came with just the clothes he was wearing and one sheet to cover himself in night. He left his parents in village where they waited for him to come, day and night. Likewise, I am too travelling to Paris this time on official posting. I can’t imagine how my parents would have been feeling and I guess it might be the same how parents of my father might have felt. No matter how happy we look when we talk on video calls, I know they pretend to be strong but, on the inside, they just want me to be with them.

The door has been the witness over the years, the day my father bought this home after almost years of savings and loans. I can’t imagine how light he might have felt after getting it. He was newly married and getting own roof over the head might have been his utmost priority.

The door saw my father working day and night to make ends meet. And the Door saw the day I was born in this home early morning of 24th July 1987, took my first step on the earth and spoke my first word. It would have witnessed the joy and happiness of being the first born of the family. The door was privy to the festivals and tragedies of our family. It saw my mother making bindies and kids clothes to support her husband. It kept the memories of semblance of our friends and relatives, and it also saw breaking up of our joint family into smaller factions. And finally, it saw us leaving it behind, in search of a better house and a better future.

The house is privy to what I see the phenomenon of social change in India when the joint families broke up into smaller nuclear families. Why we went out is surely a story for another time but leaving the house that time did anger me as a small kid, and I used to think it was a Himalayan blunder committed by my father. But as I grew up, I understood his side of the story, why he took up to stay away from his brothers and parents.

It also reminded me of our companions, friends which we leave behind and the ones who left us behind too, in search of better life, the ones which were once important to us in the bygone eras but have limited value now.

All this while I kept thinking that Is it the fact of life that when we rise up we lose friends and family? The same was the condition of door.

I somehow felt like the Door is speaking to me and complaining.

“Finally! You have come to meet me after 33 year, I have been waiting for you to come back since you left”.

I looked at it and stumbly replied to in my head as a teardrop pickled out of my eyes and I humbly wiped it of before anyone else could see it. I said to it and in my heart.

“I am thankful to you, Oh door, for being the keeper of our memories and the part of my life”

It has been raining incessantly in Delhi from past 2 days, adding  to the severity of Delhi’s' infamous cold. Winter rains in Northern India, of what we have studied during our 10th class geography books, is basically due to Western Disturbances from the Mediterranean sea. I had the honour to physically check this famous sea (when I served in Egypt), which sends rains to our distant land, making us one of the largest producers of food.

Rains in Delhi are known across India, as they occur twice, once to give respite to Delhiites from the scorching summer of July and second to drop the mercury level in Dec-January. Both depicts the severity of the extremes temperatures, faced by the common Delhiwalas.

It had been 7 months since I joined headquarters in Delhi from Cairo and I don’t remember taking a single leave not even during tough months of Covid19. I remember the early days when I joined here, roads used to be empty by 6-7 in the evening, traffic was less, arguably due to restriction but it increased its full potential. Anyways thanks to the newly build flyover on the Selampur stretch, I am reaching office in 45-50 minutes.

I usually pass through ISBT after checking with google maps for traffic. Today also i followed the same route. On the way, as usual, it was crowded, potholes were filled with water causing intermittent snarls. I see people checking WhatsApp or getting arranged in a call while driving, I remain perplexed in thinking about the other urgencies in their lives than driving in the busy Delhi streets, where anyone can literally jump in front of your cars.

I observe, look for inspirations during travelling, so that I can paint or sketch before going to bed in the night. I see faces of people, their expressions, I know most of our people are hardworking, sweating out for arranging a square meal. Some people are in hurry, some are careful and the others stuff themselves up in the rickety three-wheelers, probably saving money for future use or they have no other means of travel.

While on the way, there's a stretch where sits a man with bags full of bird feeds. I think he has all the feeds, bazra, wheat, corn kernels everything that birds can relish. He sits on footpath on rightside, with a crowd of birds, pigeon, small birds and crows. He sells feeds to people who have love for birds. I had never seen him sitting alone.  I see him daily, with a host of birds, which are busy in eating the feeds thrown by the people after purchasing from the man. It’s a good business or rather a service for birds.

And every time i pass by, i feel amazing, like a wave of happiness. Its actually a site to see, I remember seeing such site in popular bollywood movies. Today also, i was excited, in the hope that i would be able to see the bunch of birds. And as i passed, i saw a very different manzar, there were birds, the man was selling feed to people but just metres away, a small boy was also sitting. Drenched in rain, even though he had a makeshift plastic head cover, that he might had made out of waste plastics bags. His shirt appeared wet, possibly before wearing the plastic suit. He was sitting facing the road, licking a disposable plate. He was so busy in finding the quantum particles of food from the empty plate that he had forgotten that he’s wet in the cold. For a fraction of second, i could not take the explosion of emotions. I was stoned to see the discrepancy and the mismatch. It was an oxymoronic, while many people were feeding the birds, or may be overfeeding them but they choose to ignore, that besides them was a small boy, possibly hungry. I was taken aback, i felt as if i myself was that boy, waiting for food, waiting to eat something. I told my driver to stop the car and gave him my lunch. Told him to give it to that boy who is sitting near the birds. The boy grabbed it, my lunch had apple, banana and Guava. Sorry boy, I had only fruits for lunch.

It wasn’t that I wanted to do some charity but, it was for humanity. Both, the birds and the children shouldn’t go hungry. My dad says that “May be god has given us little more from his kitty to help people in need”

For me, my appetite was fulfilled for the whole day!!!

घोर अँधेरा

 कहता रहा हार जा  

एक सितारा  माना नहीं  

ना डरा 

रौशनी की इक बूँद पे  

जिंदा रहा वो  

जिंदा रहा वो  

ज़िन्दगी की कुछ डोरियों  

को जकड़े हुए कहता रहा  

हक़ है मुझे.. चलने का  

हक़ है मुझे.. जीने का 

हक़ है मेरा.. अम्बर पे  

लेके रहूँगा हक़ मेरा  

लेके रहूँगा हक़ मेरा  

करता हूँ वादा.. 

मेरे लहू का 

कतरा अभी गर्म है  

देख अधुरा मेरा अभी कर्म है  

दिन महीने हर साल की  

गिनता रहा वो गिनता रहा वो 

होसले की कुछ तीलियों को पकडे हुए  

कहता रहा.. हक़ है मुझे चलने का  

हक़ है मुझे जीने का 

 हक़ है मेरा.. अम्बर पे  

लेके रहूँगा हक़ मेरा  

लेके रहूँगा हक़ मेरा 

करता हूँ वादा.. 

मैं जनता हूँ मुझे आख़िर  

एक ना एक दिन मरना है  

पर जब तलक भी जियूं  

हो जीना कैसा तय करना है  

मिट्टी की काया में लोहे का है इरादा  

हक़ है मुझे.. चलने का  

हक़ है मुझे.. जीने का  

हक़ है मेरा.. अम्बर पे  

लेके रहूँगा हक़ मेरा 

 लेके रहूँगा हक़ मेरा  

तू देख लेना!!

Tribute to Babasaheb Dr. Ambedkar!!!

“Namo Tassa Bhagavato Arhato

Sammasam Budhassa”

I am thankful to Dr. Prashant Rokade Sir and Rashtrapita Jyotiba Phule Abhyasika for giving me an opportunity to speak to the young minds.

Dear Friends,

When I see you all, I see myself. A small boy, shy and introvert, who spoke more to himself than others.

As a child, I hated studies, they bored me, made me lazy and that’s why I started to procrastinate them.  If at anything I wanted to do, was that I wanted to be a painter, I wanted to play with colors, I wanted to give wings to my imagination, but we are not born with silver spoon.  Things were difficult and you get to know the importance of small things when you don’t posses them.

But all it did was that it made me believe that things are materialistic and the real joy comes in living the experiences and learning from failures. I remember not crying for a balloon or a box of candies or have never demanded toys as it might pinch the already puncture pocket of my father.

Friends, we should not judge our lives on the basis of success or failures because all this create is sadness. Our efforts should be to walk with an aim in our minds, aim of learning new things, gaining more knowledge, attempting new methods of doing works.

My life is a life that has been full of failures, at every step, at every new endeavor or an idea, I failed and I fail even now too. Though failure tends to be more public than success. And I know that we all fret it, we try to avoid failures because it makes us  question ourselves, our capabilities, every time we have unconventional ideas. But the ultimate truth is – no great success was ever achieved without failure. It may be one epic failure or a series of failures –Edison attempted 10,000 times to create a light bulb while Dyson attempted 5,126 times to invent a bagless vacuum cleaner. But, whether we like it or not, failure is the stepping stone to achieving our dreams.

Churchill once said that Success is not final, failure is not fatal: It is the courage to continue that counts.

Friends no human ever became interesting by not failing. The more you fail and recover and improve, the better you are as a person. Ever meet someone who’s always had everything work out for them with zero struggle?

And if they are, they usually have the depth of a puddle. Or they don’t exist.

Even the great Siddhartha struggled to find answers of his ultimate questions in his initial days, but he never desisted his failures.  He continued with his quest, and he went on to start Buddhism.

He says

“If you do not change direction, you may end up where you are heading.”

But how to walk on that path?? How to achieve your goals??

You might have seen how they build bridges, they construct small portions and then join them.  

Just like “A jug fills drop by drop”.

Setting small-small goals for yourself at a time. The purpose of these smaller goals is not to get you closer to your goal, but to develop the skill of belief.  The belief that you can accomplish goals – not steps. The man who moves a mountain begins by carrying away small stones

Once you meet that first goal, you promise yourself to set another and another. The incremental approach is more effective because it guarantees at least some progress towards your big, ultimate goal. It doesn't have to be an "all or nothing" situation

The path from dreams to success does exist. We just need to have the vision to find it, the courage to get on to it, and the perseverance to follow it.

Nadia Comaneci,  trained for 16 hours daily, 4 hours of theory daily and just 4 hours of sleep daily!! She was the first gymnast ever to be awarded a perfect score of 10.0 at the Olympic Games.

This is called Perseverance.

Its about not giving up…!!

Many of life's failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up.

“If you can dream - and not make dreams your master; If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same”

If you want to dream, then dream not about being something, rather dream to Do something. Once you dream to doing something you will enjoy the joy of doing it, even if failures comes your aim will never fade.

I know a boy nearby from your region…who once dreamed !! dreamed of a better future for people who lived in dark through ages of slumber. He dreamed for just and better world. He dreamed to acquire more and more knowledge. He was from a community that had never seen the sun of social justice but he gained knowledge, he fought from himself, pushed his limits and one fine day he wrote a master piece.

The constitution of our country.

Master piece because, he built a nation out of nations of diverse people. A task which has never been done elsewhere!!

The future, my friends, indeed belongs to those who believe in beauty of their dreams.

I started to paint again in 2019 while I was posted in Egypt. And this year in February, I did my first exhibition. And My first novel may be out in next 4-5 months. This is the power of dreams, perseverance, hardwork. And a desire to gain knowledge.

The Real Success is…..about finding Happiness…and real Happiness is happiness of mind. When Happiness is internalized that it becomes independent of external factors…!!

Dear Friends we don’t have to gain more speed but have to slow down less than everyone else..practise everyday!!

The fight is with ourselves!! Fight with yourself and win your own battles..!! Break Limits of your imagination, have all the powers to change the world.

Buddha in his last advice says that

“All things in the world are changeable. They are not lasting. Work hard to gain your own salvation”

You are responsible for your own bondage. You are responsible for making your mind impure, no one else. You are responsible for purifying your mind by breaking all the bondages. No one else can do that for you.

I got up early and felt so good, went up to our balcony and saw the sun rising into a new day. It was 24th July 1997, my birthday. The day we all wait each year, not only because it’s the day of our occurrence but because of  the love and affection we get. Everyone wishes you, teachers don’t scold you, even if you score a perfect zero in tests, gifts, cakes, toffees and chocolates, everything is so good.  

And as a kid we all have these little and small wishes, that we want to complete on our birthdays. I wanted a box of crayons!!

Yes a box of crayons. !!

It has been 4 months since I got into the new school and everyone was asked to get the big crayon box. I still remember it was costing nearly about 100 rupees. I was inclined towards drawing and coloring, I don’t know but it felt good and better than studying the boring books, specially social studies. It was like driving into the new world, but I needed those colors. They  make everything alive like pumping up life into a non-living.

Spending 100 rupees on crayons was way too much from me. My dad was working tirelessly so that he may be able to pay my school fees. I watched him getting up early and coming up late in night. He worked as librarian during the day time and made small TV parts during evening so that he may deliver them early morning to vendors spread across Delhi. He would travel extensively. I can’t even imagine how tiring that schedule must have been. His schedule for food had been jeopardized like he has given up on eating.

I don’t know how I understood all this at a very tender age but I felt that I must not demand anything from my dad…and I never did.. I never asked him for anything.

Initially I made the excuse that I will bring the crayons in next class but that excuse run out shortly and thus it became so embarrassing that one day our drawing teacher punished me for not bringing the crayons in the class. I had no excuse, I couldn’t tell that I cannot afford a 100 Rupees crayons.

How could I tell her that??

I tried to save up some money from here and there but it was taking longer than I expected.

One day I was very sad and you know our moms have a kind of  super power, they know that their kid is facing difficulty.

Mom asked me “ why are you sad??”

“Mom I will have to purchase a crayon box, but its very costly”

“How much is it, tell me? Take money from me, 5??”

“No mummy, its 100!!”

“Hmm, let you dad come, will ask him to get you”

I don’t know what happened that night, dad came very late. And things passed on till my birthday came.

As I woke up early on my Birthday, Dad was getting ready for going out to deliver goods like his daily routine. He wished me Happy Birthday and told that he will bring cake in the evening. He told me to invite my friends over for a small celebration.

I had invited all my friends over for a small celebration at 8 o clock. They all started coming on time. I was waiting for my Dad, as he promised me the cake. Time was not passing quickly, it became 8:30 then 9, and 9:30. I kept waiting for him. Friends were continuously asking for cake but everything was uncontrollable. Mom somehow made some food and fed my friends.

I cried, went up to balcony and cried. It was like a pain originating from middle of my throat. I was thinking that I never asked him for anything so how can dad forgot my birthday. It was turning out to be a very bad day…but somehow I slept off, after an hour of crying,  mom did tried to console me but she couldn’t.

Dad came around 1145 pm, mom was awake. He asked

“Where is Harish??”

“He and his friends kept waiting for the cake. What happened? You got stuck anywhere??”

Mom replied.

“I went to get money from my vendors, thought today is my son’s birthday and I should give him that crayon box, could somehow managed to get 100 Rupees for his crayons but it took time in Lajpat Market. I searched but couldn’t find the same brand he needed and by the time I went to bakery, it got closed, I have searched every location. All are closed” Dad said

“He slept crying for an hour” Mom said.

“Here! Take this 100 Rupees and keep it near his pillow” Dad said.

Mom then kept 100 Rupee near me. I woke up next morning and found that 100 Rupee note lying near me. It a greenish note, a little long and wide. It was little damp and I realized that it has come from my dad’s wallet which might had gotten wet due to his sweat. Shear sweat of my dad, his hard work. I went to thank him but he had already went away for his daily routine delivery to Palam.

I purchased the crayon box and was extremely happy. I could now enter the drawing class room whose entry to me had been banned. That day I made a very good painting and the  Drawing teacher got very impressed She showed it to her fellow teachers as well. I could hear her say that “this boy is very talented” She then told me that I will draw the front page of our Annuall Day Function Program booklet.

In February this year, I had my first Exhibition in Cairo. While I was delivering my keynote speech, I remembered those 100 Rupees. I paused for a moment and continued speaking, my voice got hoarse a little but I felt proud of my Dad. I thanked him from the bottom of my heart.  The applause to my speech was tremendous. 

And all this while I kept thinking that

“How Powerful was my Dad’s 100 Rupees”

Harish Kumar IFS

from Arabic Poem by Nizar Qabbani'!!

Cup reading is fortune telling in Arab regions. They drink Turkish coffee..that is very thick and makes pattern after one drinks it in the cup. Thereafter the fortune teller tells about the fortune after looking the pattern. Here the boy goes to one of such Cup readers and then she says:

She sat..with fear in her eyes

staring at my cup, turned upside down

“My son…don’t be sad

for love is written for you

my son,

he is a martyr,

he who dies for a lover.

Your cup..is a frightening world

and your life is full of travels and wars

my son, you’ll love alot

my son, you’ll die alot

and you’ll love a women in the world

yet return like a dethroned king

In your life, my son, is a woman

Her eyes, praise the lord

Her mouth, drawn like a necklace

Her laugh, music and roses

But your sky is rainy,

and your road is closed..closed

For the lover of your heart, my son

is asleep in a locked palace

and the palace is large, my son

and its guarded by dogs, and soldiers

and the princess of your heart is sleeping..

He who enters her room is lost..

He who asks for her hand, who approaches..

the fence of her garden..is lost..

He who tries to untangle her braids, my son..

is lost..lost..lost

I’ve seen, and predicted alot

But..I’ve never read

a cup like yours

I never knew, my son,

sadness like yours

your destiny..is to forever walk

in love..on the edge of the blade

and remain alone like a shell

and remain sad like a salix

your destiny is to forever go

in the sea of love with no way out

and love…millions of times..

“I drifted, after my plane crashed towards the Marshall islands. We drifted, for days, for nights, I forgot when it was day and when it was night. We were in the sea for 47 days, the miseries were galore, I lost my friends and colleagues on the way to the islands, with no food and no supplies. The water was salty so as our sweat.

I am Louis Zamperini, I want to run, I love it but I choose to serve in my nation’s army. I worked as Bombardier in b-24 Liberators in the Pacific.

           As soon as we saw land, we were taken to Prison camp by enemy. I became prisoner. They say I am dead, in my nation. My family doesn’t know that I am alive. Things are hard here, very hard. I have lost my weight, it is difficult for me to stand. We were held at Kwajalein Atoll but were transferred to Ofuna camp after 42 days.

Mutsuhito, torments me, he wants to break me, break my will to live, to survive, he wants to break my voice. I think he is afraid of me. He is afraid of the indomitable will power but I know he would try hard to shackle it down. I am different, we all are, we are humans, we don’t give up easily. I know this and I know that unless I myself give up, nobody can defeat me, nobody can overcome my will. That’s what Human spirit is about “ Never giving up”.

They gave me an opportunity to broadcast a message home saying that I am alive but  when they asked me to broadcast another message laden with propaganda against my country, I refused it. My nation is my life. I was sent back to camp where Watanabe has each prisoner punch me, on my face. Blow by blow, I remember the blows but it didn’t pained me. I was doing my duty and I will continue to do it, till the end of my days.”

Born in January 1917 to Italian immigrant parents, Zamperini spent his youth in Torrance, California. After graduating high school, Zamperini set his sights on competing in the 1936 Olympic games. He finished eighth in his race and won over the crowd by laying down one of the fastest final laps in the history of the event. Among the impressed spectators was none other than Adolf Hitler, who shook Zamperini’s hand from his box and said, “Ah, you’re the boy with the fast finish.” 

Zamperini breathed last in 2014 at the age of 97.

Friends, mankind is nature’s finest creation and the willpower is mankind’s finest weapon. No one can beat us, no one can overcome us, until we ourselves gave it away. Fight your battles till your last breath, thats the Human Spirit.

Remember the popular Mythological story of Noah and his ark. Though I don’t believe in them but we have a lesson to learn from such stories.

The human history is full of such world threatening instances where responsible humans have seized the day and protected the humanity. And, these instances had later become the basis of such stories.  While Noah’s stories finds its parallels in many religions of the world viz. Christianity, Judaism, Islam and to some extant in Hinduism too. But for me, the most common feature in all of it is, how  a responsible human with his/ her simple works saved Humanity.

Noah was a person who represented a very righteous man, he seems to have a very kind heart and  belief in himself.

According to one of the Mythological stories, Noah had a divine intervention, that the world may be ending sooner, so he should built a big boat to save the creatures of the world. As it happens, he builds a boat and hoards all the creatures of the world, whatever he can get hold of, into the boat. It rains and rains, for years may be, but Noah’s boat which was called as Ark saves the creatures from the natural disaster and in doing so, he saves the world from extinction.

But why am I raking up Noah?? Well, The world today is facing a huge danger, from a Novel (Covid-19). Virus which is spreading fast and our bodies are not used to it. It has proved to be fatal in some cases. And Looking at the responses worldwide, it is some sort of unprecedented. So, in a parallel to Noah's story, it has all the things which make it into a disaster.

Are we Noah? Yes we all are, we all are inherently Noah. The divine intervention is our common sense. We can save the world by doing simple things:

Clean hands often using soap and water or alcohol-based hand sanitizer.

Avoid people who are sick (coughing and sneezing).

Avoid crowded places.

Clean and disinfect high-touch surfaces daily in household common areas (e.g. tables, hard-backed chairs, doorknobs, light switches, remotes, handles, desks, toilets, sinks).

Launder items including washable plush toys as appropriate in accordance with the manufacturer’s instructions. If possible, launder items using the warmest appropriate water setting for the items and dry items completely. Dirty laundry from an ill person can be washed with other people’s items.

i hope it snows in my city!!

In the midst of the heat,

of the burning shops,

like some infested crops,

ask them who built it,

bit by bit, penny by penny,

he sells eggs and he spects,

she cleans homes,

and to the nearby schools their kids goes!!

i hope it snows in my city!!

ask their charred houses,

who lived there?

he is from kannauj and he from motihari,

and all they waited for one police ki gaadi!!

i hope it snows in my city!!

ask the burned mosque,

who prayed there?

he reads quran, she believes in bhagwan

in his eid and in her holi,

she got saweiyan and he made rangoli,

i hope it snows in my city!!

he was a worker and he drove an uber,

factory was burned, car overturned,

why this madness? its all a sadness!!

the ambulance was attacked,

and a school ransacked,

i hope it snows in my city!!

one was killed by stabs,

other by rabid mobs,

he had 2 kids,

the other was recently married,

ask his kids or the wife,

can you bring them back..to life?

i hope it snows in my city!!

all burned,

like forest fire,

for the greed of power,

some breed hatred,

and some conspire,

but ,

who are the victims?

his Allah or my Ram?

i hope it snows in my city!!

Respected Ambassador of India to Egypt, Director MACIC, Chairman, Egyptian Caricature association, ladies and gentlemen,

It is my great honor to present my work through todays exhibition at our cultural center. I would like take this opportunity to thank Ambassador Rahul sir, the Embassy & MACIC team, My friends specially, Ankita & Mr. Gokul who suggested me to start charcoal, just a year back.

The art of Sketching goes back to the earliest ages of humanity, the Graceful, stylised cave paintings of Ajanta and Ellora (India) which shows both our kinship and our differences from our ancestors while the Murals in temples of Luxor and Aswan depict the stories of that time period. Both our civilizations have epitomized the art forms specially the sculpture and the paintings.

Arts, basically embodies what we want our lives to be: beautiful, meaningful, purposeful. But art is not only for artists. It’s for anyone who craves to know how to live more creatively, and more deeply. It has the power to transform lives, one brushstroke at a time.

Friends, we all possess the inner vision of an artist, which empowers us to uncover beauty and meaning in even the most mundane areas of our lives.

My sketches are nothing but a small attempt to capture the very soul of emotions which I saw and felt while living in this beautiful city. I think that the soul is both a creative imagination and expressible content, some form of subjective self-awareness and a psychological life. I hope that my sketches make a direct connection with all ur emotions so as to touch the very soul of it.

Last but not the least,  I feel that Art is the pen of our soul.

What do you want to be in your life? 

“I wanna became an artist dad!!”

But can this be sustainable, can you feed your family with this profession? have you thought of it? 

And this thought killed my nascent dream of becoming an artist. I loved sketching, i don't know but it always came naturally to me. I would sit in a corner and sketch shapes and figures oozing through my mind but that dialogue reduced the energy. I left the thought an concentrated on my studies like i had talked my mind to not to be creative, not to think on anything related to arts. I became bland for sometime but it killed my emotions so i tried another trick...i mean just to keep the creative mind smearing. 

I would sketch on the margins on the book, or behind it, or on any blank paper i would see. Most of my books, my copies, my dairies were filled with small sketches. Sketches of cartoons, of people, of PM of CM, of my teachers, of my crush..everything was there and it helped me to be a little creative. But i fell, and i fell deep in something which changed my life forever. Love gave me the reason to sketch again, it inspired me to speak my mind out, firstly was to impress but once i started there was no looking back. It put in motion the mechanism which i stopped since my childhood. It helped me to regain myself. 

I called my dad few day ago to inform of my exhibition and he said “I am very proud of you beta, go win your battles”

And today as i prepare for my first exhibition titled “ROOH/ SOUL”, i couldn't stop thanking Love for being my guiding light in my path to self realisation. I am thankful to Indian Foreign Service,  Embassy of India, My amazing friends and well wishers for helping in my endeavours. 

Coming from a humble background, brings you certain small-small happiness, sometimes. For, I never had an opportunity to go outside Delhi during my childhood as my parents were always busy in making the two ends meet . The very first thing i did after getting settled in my service was to call my parents to Cairo. My mom who always complained of not getting to travel enough was content to have finally travelled outside country. It's an emotional thing but it give me some sort of happiness. I know my Dad would have been a proud father but as usual he won't tell you anything about his feelings, but i know how he would have felt, when the aircraft would have left Indian airspace. As children, we should sometimes think of our parents too, their hardships, their struggles and their sacrifices. Being modern is not about being western, its about modern in thinking, rational with empathy and sympathy. Thus,  its important to strive for your dreams but when you also strive for the dreams of your parents, its equally amazing. 

#Thankful #Parents #Lifeheck

#Happiness 

I can just faintly remember the year, it may be early 1990′s. Tough times for my family, i was 4 then but i matured way more than my age. Being the eldest of other 2 siblings teaches you a lot, even at a very tender age. We were about 11 members in our family including my uncles and paternal grandparents. My father was the only bread winner so it was a little tight for all of us. He used to send money to his parents in our village.

My grandfather had just passed away, the family was just recovering but we were really in bad state, economically. My dad was short of money, he tried very hard but he was. Delhi government has just announced the examination dates and as usual it was anxious days for the students, specially those who dint study. For me, i was sick, was having fever for some time back then. We lived in a one bedroom flat.

One Uncle who was an acquittance of my father came and requested to get his son passed in the upcoming examination. He handed over a brown envelope to my dad. I don't know what my dad was thinking or what was his mental status then but he knew that there was some cash in the envelope. it was kept on the table and nobody touched it. It kept lying there for whole day.

In the evening, i became seriously ill so my parents took me to the nearest doctor and as my mom says “Doctor had given up on you, he said the next 24 hours are very crucial” . I remember my mom going back home to my dad and saying “ give this envelope back to the man, we don't need this, we can stay this way, we can eat whatever we have but not this”. My dad agreed and he hurriedly went back to that mans home, it rained that day, he was drenched but he returned that envelope back. Till now My dad remains upright, fighting for truth, justice. There are many more stories where he stood beside the truth, he even got transferred many times to very remote places but he remains committed. 

He narrated this incident many times to me and he always makes a point of being upright in service.

“There is no price for your zameer my son, no money or position can buy your zameer. Always be upright, wherever you are and god will take care of all your worries, just be truthful and give best to your job.”