tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35158962159828040312024-03-05T17:12:33.449-08:00Everything I wanna share...Söuvickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04009275227689567406noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3515896215982804031.post-83875178074457596672016-07-11T00:16:00.001-07:002016-07-11T00:18:38.709-07:00Call of the moment<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Childhood is one of the most fragile stages of human life.
It is the stage that forms the base of the development of the person. So, growth
in all forms indeed is a serious thing to look for in a child.</div>
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We often see malnourished children around us. It is not that
all of them hail from extremely poor families and are thus, not fed properly.
At times, we see children from well-to-do families as well in the same
condition.</div>
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There may be reasons for this. The food we give to the child
may not contain that particular nutrient that the child’s health is starving
for. But how would we know what that particular nutrient is, or what food
contains the same? We hear different suggestions from different people and
ultimately end up in confusions. We try different methods. But what we lastly
see is that there is no required growth in the child. The child may show growth
on one aspect but lag behind in the other. Or maybe if they are physically fit,
they may show psychological disorders.</div>
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Some of us, at this stage, ignore this and stop taking any
measure considering that things will get okay as the child develops age. But
sadly, it often results in the opposite. Those children ultimately grow up to be
extremely short-height, underweight, overweight, or mentally unstable. There
may be many other problems. As a result, they are often prone to mockery,
several diseases and it also becomes life-threatening at times. And the bitter
truth is that hardly can any step be taken at that stage.</div>
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So in order to prevent such things one must realize the
importance of helping a child catch up on lost growth before it is too late. It
indeed is the call of the moment and must be tackled with as early as possible. It is
true that an individual may have least knowledge on which vitamin or mineral is
required for the growth in one aspect. But experts are always there to help us
around. There are<a href="https://growthplus.horlicks.in/" target="_blank"> health-drinks </a>available in the market that contain all the
required nutrients for a child in necessary amounts, and have been clinically
proven to provide all round growth to a child. They may be provided to the
child as a part of their staple diet. They are often seen to have helped a
child recover the growth issues. </div>
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Well, even in this case, one must be careful
while buying the product. One must see the health drink one is buying is
genuine or not, as several similar-looking products also have flooded the
market. One must remember that the milk powder fed to infants and the one used
as milk-substitute while preparing tea are completely two different things
though they look and taste almost the same.</div>
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Well, if problems still persist, in my opinion, one must
consult a reputed physician. But in no case must one ignore it. Timely taken
measures will lead to recovery of all the problems the child faces, and the
child ultimately will grow up to be a healthy man or woman, giving a helping
hand in making the world a much better place to live in.</div>
</div>
Söuvickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04009275227689567406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3515896215982804031.post-87641063548852613692016-06-03T11:09:00.004-07:002020-09-06T08:21:24.782-07:00The Fortunate Mistake<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggt9iM-Pwp9VWwTniBxX7t8TPNHBdqOTvsHlSwiBFxIc5woldG7eF2fOv4L-QcppfvoxuE0dfaQK2iqILaXqP8H1_fngYBRzv9ugkGmJxhrIPk1AaHiJMFpY6wX1c1SnUG4K5PJIo_0Ig/s1600/tof.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggt9iM-Pwp9VWwTniBxX7t8TPNHBdqOTvsHlSwiBFxIc5woldG7eF2fOv4L-QcppfvoxuE0dfaQK2iqILaXqP8H1_fngYBRzv9ugkGmJxhrIPk1AaHiJMFpY6wX1c1SnUG4K5PJIo_0Ig/s320/tof.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">They reached their destination on the scheduled time. They took their
positions. The tall man looked at his friend and made a facial gesture. The
other fellow handed him the packet. The tall fellow took the device out of the
packet and pressed some buttons present on it. He then checked his time-piece.
“The train is to reach here in five minutes”. The others didn’t reply. They
just raised their thumbs. The tall fellow then placed the device carefully on
the railway track and covered it with some stone-chips. He then took out his
remote control. “Let’s move,” he said, and all of them moved to a distance and
hid behind the bushes. </span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">Seven minutes passed, and they did not hear the sound of any train. Their
faces showed tension. Their eyes showed anger. Today they were to avenge their
years of hunger and poverty. </span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">And then, they heard the noise of the train. Each soul got excited. The
tall fellow got up from his place. As the train was running over the place
where he had put that device, the tall fellow closed his eyes and pressed the
remote button hard. </span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">Two seconds. Four seconds. Ten seconds. The train crossed the place and
took its way. It soon got out of site. Silence prevailed. There was no noise
that they were expecting for. </span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">The tall fellow opened his eyes, unable to judge if they had failed in
their attempt, or had he suddenly gone deaf. The other members also came out of
the bushes. They looked at one another. And then, they suddenly heard somebody
speak in shrill tone- “Don’t move, else we will shoot. Stay where you are.” </span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">The area was filled with police and CISF. </span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><b><span lang="EN" style="font-size: x-small;">Three months later </span></b><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“Sitting with the phone every minute! Have you forgotten we had to go
shopping?”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“I remember, Rimi. Just a minute more.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“Who is online? Painter babu?”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">Srijita looked at Rimi with a half-annoyed face. “I have told you not to
use that name.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“Achcha baba I won’t say again. You enjoy your copyright. Happy now? So… is
Joy online?”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“Yep,” Srijita replied with a smile. “He has sent another sketch. Just
see.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“Wow! Looks so real yaar!”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">They stayed in the hostel present inside the grand campus of Durgapur
College of Medicines, better known as DCM. It had been a long time Srijita had
not gone home. So this time, she had decided to take with herself, gifts
for every member of her family. And now, when the time of shopping had come,
she got busy on Facebook. She is actually not a Facebook addict. But then, Joy
was online.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">Judging from his Facebook profile, Joy was a fair-complexioned guy with
spiky hair who loved painting and was extremely good at it. He stayed in
Kolkata where he was pursuing MBA. His hometown was in some village. He and
Srijita were Facebook-friends for a couple of months. Srijita loved to see his
paintings. But she herself did not know how close she came to him when she saw
portrait of her own face as drawn by him. The portrait is now her laptop’s
wallpaper.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">As Srijita shut her laptop and was ready to leave for shopping her phone
rang.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“Hello aunty… yes… please tell what happened… WHAT?!!!”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">She stood with her phone like a statue. On the constant pokes by Rimi, she
just replied- “Papa has been hit by a bullet.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">The train rushed at its speed. Sometimes over the bridges. Sometimes amidst
the greenery. The bogie was almost empty of passengers. Srijita’s eyes were
wet. She felt lonely. Just as infectious creatures like mosquitoes breed in
stagnant water, similarly, ominous thoughts breed in an idle brain. The same
happened with Srijita as well. The ominous thoughts could find no other victim
as good as her at this moment. To rescue herself from them, Srijita took her
phone and tried listening to her favourite songs. But they didn’t help. She
wanted to call somebody. But to whom? She rolled down her contacts list to see
if she could find anybody worthy of calling- one who, she felt, could beat those
ominous thoughts. There was no one. Whenever she fell in any problem she called
her papa itself. But today he himself was the cause of her problem. She was to
keep her phone back in her bag only when she noticed the facebook icon.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">She logged in to her account, still unsure if it would be of some help. A
few of her friends were online. As she scrolled the list she came across the
name ‘Joy’. She clicked on it.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">‘Hi’ she typed.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">‘Hello dearie. How are you?’</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">‘Not so fine. Papa is ill’</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">‘Why? What happened?’</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">She wondered whether she should tell everything. She had never seen this
fellow. But he also had never seen him. What would happen if he came to know
it?</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">‘A bullet has hit him.’</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">‘What? Hope you are not kidding.’</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">Was she kidding? Her papa was there in the hospital this fellow asked if
she was kidding! Srijita was to type something out of anger but then controlled
herself. The fellow didn’t know the truth, and this fact is really an unusual
one.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">‘I am not kidding,’ she replied.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">‘How did it happen?’</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">‘He is a police commissioner. It is the work of the Hartists.’</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">‘I see’, the fellow replied and paused. His message then came again- ‘Would
you mind telling me everything about you? Just wanted to know.’</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">Srijita had friends, but they never valued her so much. She had no mother.
She shared everything with her father, but today this option too was not with
her. She actually felt alone. And when every known person becomes a stranger,
the mind relieves its burden by speaking it out to a stranger itself- a stranger
who has not ‘become’ a stranger.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">She typed- ‘I have lost my mother in an accident. My father is a police
commissioner and is prone to attacks as he is a big enemy of the Hartists. For
my protection he has sent me to Durgapur but with repeated warnings that I do
not mix so much with people lest some enemy traces me and tries to harm me. I
am very lonely, Joy. I have nobody in my life to share my feelings with.’</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">She felt some amount of relief as she pressed the ‘send’ button. The heart
had released its burden, and the eyes- some drops of tear.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">A minute passed and no reply came from Joy. What it mentioned was just that
he was typing. Why was Joy taking so long? Perhaps his reply would be some long
philosophical speech. Or perhaps he is still thinking of a suitable reply.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">The reply was- ‘I understand dear. I am really sorry about your life. All
will be fine. Don’t worry.’</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">The reply was quite formal. But it brought a lot of peace to Srijita.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face="" lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;">
</span><br />
<hr align="left" size="0" width="100%" />
<span face="" lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;">
</span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">As Srijita got down the train in Chalsa station she found two men in khakee
waiting for her. They had come to pick her up. She went with them to their car.
As the driver took them towards their home, she asked them what the actual
cause was.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“The Hartists did this in order to seek revenge,” one of them replied,
“because of your papa’s smart plan they had failed in their attempt to bombard
Kanchankanya Express three months ago. The team members along with the leader
were taken captive. Their men, as a result, decided to avenge this.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“How is papa now?”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“He is quite good. The bullet had hit his arm. It was a narrow escape.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“And the fellow who had shot him?”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“He has escaped. We are looking for him.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">The Hartists hailed from the village named Hartkhola. The people there,
after years of suffering, had decided not to let anybody stay in peace. They
believed they are poor because somebody has become rich with their money. For
years they had been looking for jobs, going door to door for money, but nobody
helped them. Each day they saw their near and dear ones die because of diseases
and hunger. And this thing ultimately had compelled them to rise against the
ones who were not like them.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“Beta… see what has happened..!” Aunt said as she ran to hug Srijita. The
other members helped her with her huge luggage. They didn’t stay there for
long. Despite her unwillingness, Srijita was somehow forced to take her meal.
And then, they drove to the hospital, where her father, Commissioner Anand was
admitted.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">Srijita hugged her father with tear-filled eyes as she saw him sitting on
his bed. His right arm had a big bandage.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“Don’t cry beta. You must be proud of your papa.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“I don’t want all this, papa. I just want you. What would have happened had
the bullet hit your chest?”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">Commissioner Anand caressed his daughter’s head and said, “Do not worry.
Nothing bad will happen as long as my daughter is with me.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">Srijita was not moved by this flattery. She was sad for her papa. But deep
inside she was proud of him.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 15pt 0cm;">
<span face="" lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;">
</span><br />
<hr align="left" size="0" width="100%" />
<span face="" lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt; mso-line-height-alt: 18.0pt;">
<span face=""><b><span lang="EN" style="font-size: x-small;">In another part of the town </span></b><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“How could you miss it, you fool?” asked the man in the dhoti-kurta to the
other man whose head was bent.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“Sorry dada. Just for a bit…”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“Just keep your bloody mouth shut! Where had you been when I was teaching
you people to shoot?”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“Now what will we do, baba?” asked the fellow sitting on the fibre chair.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“Now we have just one way out. That bloody commissioner’s
daughter has come. It is time to kill her.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“Are you sure?” the fellow in the chair stood up.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“Why? What is the problem?”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“She hasn’t done anything.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">The man in dhoti came close to his son. He held his arms. “No son. Every
person like them is at fault. And it will really be a good lesson for them. The
commissioner will lose his daughter, and only then will he realize what a
child’s death means to a father.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">The young fellow’s innocent eyes filled with vengeance as he recalled how
his sister had died of a terrible disease. She was admitted in the nearby
government hospital, but the doctors there recommended her to be transferred to
a better place as her condition was very serious. She was admitted in the
nearest private hospital where they charged huge money. These people had to
sell a portion of their land for the same. But ultimately there was no
improvement in her. When they lacked money they had knocked many doors for
help, but all in vain. The major operation, as a result, could not be carried
out. She had to depend on small medicines till the day the doctor declared with
a sad face that she was dead.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">The fellow got ready with the gun. In no time he and his people went to the
jungle by the road and took their positions. The moment they saw Srijita
returning from the hospital they blocked the place. Soon the guards, who were
with them, also got active with their guns. The fight began.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">Srijita and the other members inside the car were told to hide themselves
below the seats lest some bullet hit the window. Srijita was terrified as she
heard the sounds of bullets and cries of pain of the people who were hit, from
both sides. As the firing continued, she picked up bit of courage and raised her
head upto her eyes to look outside the window. She was, indeed, shocked to see
the bodies of the dead people fallen on the floor, bleeding- be it some guard,
or some Hartist. Earlier she had never seen such a thing in real. She closed
her eyes for a second, but looked again. The Hartists were scattered in the
jungle, hiding behind the trees and bushes and aiming at the guards from there.
There were so many of them.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">And then, suddenly her attention fell on the face of an angry young Hartist
trying to shoot from a distance. She just stared at his face. The fellow, from
the distance, also noticed the eyes of the girl. He closed his eyes and
recalled his sister’s lifeless face. He opened his eyes and as he aimed at her
forehead, he saw the girl raise her head to the fullest. They saw each other
clear. The sounds of bullets surpassed any other sound. Nobody heard what the
girl suddenly said at that time. Only the boy could understand by the movement
of her lips what she had uttered. She had uttered <i>his</i> name.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">Before anything else could be done by them, the road had been cleared of
any rival. The driver was asked to move on. He raised his head in fear, and
sped the car towards the destination.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">The CISF Jawans were informed of this. They soon arrived there with
different kind of rifles for their protection.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">In her room, Srijita was on her bed with tears in her eyes. She still could
not believe if it was Joy whom she had seen. How could Joy be her enemy? Or how
could she herself come such close to her enemy? She remembered how in the train
she had shared her deepest secrets with him. How she had believed in him.
She wept as she thought all this. And her every fallen tear made her strong.
Strong and determined. She knew what she had to do. She rang up one of her
father’s colleagues.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“Uncle, I know one of the Hartists involved in this. I would give you every
detail of him.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 15pt 0cm;">
<span face="" lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;">
</span><br />
<hr align="left" size="0" width="100%" />
<span face="" lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">It was 11 pm. Srijita and her other relatives had their dinner. They had
almost gone to sleep when a guard came in to announce that the Hartists had
placed their attack. They had to be careful.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">The CISF Jawans got into action in no time. Very soon the firing began
again. This time, the Hartists were a huge force. They had covered a good part
of the fields behind their house. The grass had grown tall enough and it
was difficult for one to see where they exactly were hiding. And then, they
heard a huge noise. A portion of their house was in flames. “Goodness! They are
throwing bombs,” Uncle said.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">They did not know what to do. All three of them- Uncle, aunt and Srijita
herself- hid under the bed. They could see a Hartist enter the room and search
for them. He inspected every corner and was about to lean down to look under
the bed, when a CISF Jawan hit him from behind. All three had a sigh of relief.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">But this relief was temporary. There came another bomb soon. This time, it
destroyed the wall of the room they were in.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">Aunt whispered in Srijita’s ear- “Beta, right now they won’t come this side
as they must be assuming nobody is alive here because of the bomb. You crawl
through this area and try to escape this place secretly.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“Yes, it would be good if you leave the place now,” uncle supported.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“But what will happen to you people?”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“Do not worry. Nothing will happen to us. You leave before they come
again.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">Srijita didn’t want to. But her uncle and aunt forced her to leave. With
tears in her eyes she crawled out of the broken wall and went towards the dark.
She crossed her backyard and entered the grassy land.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">A little away, one could see from the moonlight, the silhouette of a father
and a son.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“Take this gun. Get ready. We HAVE to make our mission a success this time
at any cost.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“Yes baba,” Joy replied.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">Just then the man’s phone rang. He picked it up.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“Yes,” he said as he held the phone.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">From the other side it said- “Everything is going as per our plan. Our
niece has left the place and has entered the farm.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“Good!” the man said and hung up. He then turned to his son. “Your turn has
come. Go ahead. All the best.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">As Joy marched towards that direction a cavalcade of thoughts went on in
his mind. He felt his mind get divided into two parts- an angel and a devil.
But which one was the angel and which one was devil, he couldn’t decide.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“Joy don’t do this. The girl is not at fault.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“Joy, this is our mission. You are the hope of every Hartist right now.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“Joy you are doing wrong. It is not good to kill innocent.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“Then why did your sister have to die? Was she not innocent?”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“The girl trusts you Joy. She has shared her feelings with you.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“It is not your fault if she trusts you. And you should be proud you have
been able to fool one among those who have been fooling you people for
decades.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“This is not a solution. Hatred carries nothing.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“You are getting soft corner towards one who is your enemy! Think about
your baba. His respect among Hartists is in your hands now.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“So for him am I compelled to do something I feel wrong?”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“It is not wrong. And the fact is if you don’t kill the girl your baba is
definitely going to kill himself. He can’t stand this.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">As Srijita tried to cross the area she came across the body of a dead
Hartist. This time, she had no time for feelings for the dead. She saw the
revolver in his hand and picked it up. She then went ahead. She crawled and
crawled until she reached at a distance. And then, she suddenly saw somebody
holding a gun. She could not see the face, just the silhouette. But it was
enough for her to understand who the person was. Her fear was replaced by
anger. She stood up. The guy noticed her. He raised his revolver to shoot her.
“Are you doing right?” something asked him again.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">The girl also raised the revolver. This time she had no fear. She just had
anger. The revolver weighed heavy. For the first time she was going to use it.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">She closed her eyes tight, and pressed the trigger. BOOM!</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">The revolver fell from her hand.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">Soon there came a shrill cry from the boy’s side. The girl opened her eyes.
With the moonlight, she could just see the boy hold his chest with one hand.
She knew she had taken her revenge.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">The boy held his gun with the other hand. She pointed it towards the girl.
The girl’s anger gradually got over as she had taken her revenge. And the fear
again took its place. She turned the other side and began running as fast as
she could. “Boom!” came the noise from the boy’s revolver, followed by the words
“I’m sorry”, which nobody except him could hear. The girl fell down. She closed
her eyes. She felt it is all over. It took half a minute for her, before she
realized she had escaped the bullet. She got up and began running again.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">On the other hand, the boy lay flat on the ground, writhing with pain. The
moon, from the top, had seen a good amount of bloodshed by then. It hid behind
the cloud. The darkness increased. The boy himself could not see the blood that
was oozing out of his chest. He could just feel it. Questions and arguments
still went in his mind.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“Have you done right?”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“Why not? Now baba won’t have to face insults from any Hartist. His son
would die a martyr’s death for them.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“But you could not hit the girl.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“I had tried. But couldn’t.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“Didn’t you think of the lots of Hartists who have been suffering?”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“Our suffering won’t reduce if we make them suffer.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“Your Baba had taught you to use the gun. But you could not make its proper
use. You couldn’t even shoot a girl. Why?”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“Because I… I loved the girl.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“You loved the girl?! You loved your enemy?”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“The rich can be the poor’s enemy. A police commissioner or his daughter
can be a Hartist’s enemy. But ‘Srijita’ was never ‘Joy’’s enemy. If at all I
have made a mistake, it was a fortunate one. It has rescued me from committing
a blunder. And secondly, hatred can be overcome only by love.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">As Joy thought all this he felt his soul leaving his body. He closed his
eyes. When he knew he could utter just one last line, he said- “Stay happy, my
Hartist companions. Stay happy, Srijita.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">He was now a lifeless body.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">Srijita ran and ran until she found some of her papa’s acquaintances. She
narrated everything to them. Some of their men went to the spot, only to find
the lifeless body of Joy, his one hand holding the gun, and other one on his
blood-stained chest.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">One of them phoned Commissioner Anand in the hospital- “Good news, sir. The
situation has been brought under control. Majority of the Hartists have been
killed. Others have been taken captive.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“That’s great. Anything else?”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“And there is a sad news. We could not rescue your brother and his wife.
They have been killed. Your house has also been bombarded. But your daughter
has done a very brave act. She has killed the Hartist who had tried to kill
her.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">And in a short time, the area was completely at peace. The localites saw
the alive Hartists being carried to jail. The Hartist leader had tears as well
as pride in his eyes. His son had died a martyr’s death.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 15pt 0cm;">
<span face="" lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;">
</span><br />
<hr align="left" size="0" width="100%" />
<span face="" lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">This incident ultimately led to a conference. After a lot of debate and
discussion, the Hartists decided to drop their guns, while the Government
decided to take special steps regarding their benefit as a whole.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">Srijita was awarded by the President for her brave act. She still could not
believe how she could do such a task. It was beyond her dreams.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 15pt 0cm;">
<span face="" lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;">
</span><br />
<hr align="left" size="0" width="100%" />
<span face="" lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">It was yet another night. The farm behind Srijita’s re-constructed house
was deserted. From the moonlight one could just see the silhouette of the two
owls that stayed there. They were talking to each other.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“So, is your nest complete?” one of them asked.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“Yes. Pray no bullet damages it again,” the other replied.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“It seems the boy had got a liking for you. He had cried with pain when the
girl shot your nest.</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“May be it was fear that had made him cry out in that manner. You could see
how nervous he was throughout the time.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span face=""><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face=""><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">“No. The boy was fearless. He had cried when the girl hit your nest. But
did not make a single noise later when he shot himself.”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face="" lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18pt; margin: 11.25pt 0cm 9pt;">
<span face="" lang="EN" style="font-size: 9pt;">(Pic courtesy: storymirror.com)</span></div>
</div>
Söuvickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04009275227689567406noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3515896215982804031.post-58512249345052137162015-08-21T23:01:00.000-07:002015-08-21T23:01:31.744-07:00The coolest revolution ever<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
Isn’t it cool to know that Airtel is coming up with a
revolution in the field of Internet? Yes, for the first time we shall be
introduced with 4G- something we had been waiting for over the past few years.
And the best thing is that it is going to be available at 3G prices itself- a
bonus surprise for me. Well, by now you must have got the idea that whatever
happens, I am going to be among the earliest customers of Airtel 4G. With the
unbelievable and superfast speed, I will get for myself lots of goodies! And it
is not just me, it is also you who can get your share of goodies if you just go
and grab your share of Airtel 4G SIM.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Softwares of huge memory had always been a headache for me.
I neither have time nor patience to sit in front of the desktop screen or stare
at the mobile screen for hours checking what percentage of the stuff has been
downloaded. Instead, I looked for friends or cyber café owners if they had an
extra copy of those softwares. Well, with <a href="http://www.airtel.in/4g/" target="_blank">Airtel 4G</a>, I look forward to bid
goodbye to the old process. Now I need not wait. My favourite softwares will be
with me within seconds, anytime I want!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Checking YouTube videos also had been very disturbing for
me. I generally look for videos that help me in my studies. There are several
videos that help me clear concepts of many things. In that case, when I try to
concentrate on a video, and the video suddenly stops with that text ‘buffering’,
it irritates like hell! Earlier I simply could not see the videos fully as a
five- minute video took half-an-hour to finish. With the emergence of 3G,
things became more comfortable, but some loopholes remained. With 4G, I would
be able to see the videos as if they are not from YouTube, rather stored in my
system itself. I can watch with fullest concentration without even the fear of
it getting paused midway.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well, talking about videos, how can I ignore the movies? Of
all the things I love to keep in my system, movies carry most of the memory. For
this reason, till date, downloading movies from torrent had always been a future-dream
to me. I never could imagine of downloading anything whose memory is in
gigabytes. Well, with Airtel 4G, I feel my awaited ‘future’ has come. It always
brings a ‘yeppie!’ moment whenever I think of the fact that now I can download
my favourite movies from the internet in a very very short time!</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Apart from these, I know many goodies would be waiting for
me when I explore the internet with my Airtel 4G. Oops! The goodies would not be just for me. For
you people as well!</div>
</div>
Söuvickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04009275227689567406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3515896215982804031.post-58560033790700700182015-05-07T02:21:00.002-07:002015-05-07T03:24:38.672-07:00Time to guess the new league<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our all-time favourite Kapil Dev- the retired
Cricketer- is bringing with himself something he calls ‘<a href="http://www.eknayileague.com/" target="_blank">Ek Nayi League</a>’. About
this thing, which literally means ‘A new League’, he has only revealed that
this is such a league where the player is sure to get a hit-wicket if they play
with their heart. Now what he means by it, is still a suspense. The only thing
certain abut it is ‘cricket’ as the term ‘hit wicket’ is related only with this
game.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Before our favourite once-upon-a-time cricketer breaks the suspense, why
not make some guesses on what it must be. Let’s begin this way- when is it
advised to people not to use their hearts or sentiments while doing their
tasks? As far as I remember, it is said to surgeons. It is said that if they
have any emotional feeling for the patient, they cannot perform their operation
properly and may end up killing the poor patient. But will this apply here? No.
We are not going to do any operation or post-mortem of the cricket ball. We are
just going to play a game.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Okay, if we think of games, we see that it is actually
advised to the players to play with all their heart in order to win. As far as
I can think, I find only one game where I personally feel this thing is not
much applicable. That’s the slow cycle race. Here if you put your heart in the
race, you would ride faster. But here the person who wins is the one who is the
slowest. But we don’t find wickets in slow-cycle race. Nor do we play cricket
on cycles. So this guess also needs a goodbye!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now, if we talk keeping just ‘cricket’ in the centre, we can
think of only one time when it is advised to the players not to use their
hearts. It is the time when the opponent team members try to abuse or attack
the sentiments of the cricketers. At that moment if the cricketer takes things
to heart, he cannot concentrate on the game. So does it mean this league is
such where abusing an opponent cricketer would actually be allowed? Or will
there be people around who would be appointed just to make the players mentally
weak??? To be honest, I find a small possibility.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But then, one more thing comes in my mind. Will, in this
league, the rules be somewhat like that of the slow cycle race? Just as in the
race, you need to cycle the slowest without your feet touching the ground,
similarly, will the rule in this game be that you need to score the lowest but
actually need to hit the ball and make a few runs?? It’s a ‘new league’ after
all. Anything can happen. But still, I can’t convince myself much.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At the end of the day, all I can conclude is my third guess
will find a possibility. There will be people trying to make the game tough for
the players by weakening them mentally.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
And I can conclude one more thing as well- If Kapil Dev sir is
reading this post right now, he is sure to laugh his heart out! (So will I
myself, when I shall read it back once the original secret is disclosed).</div>
</div>
Söuvickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04009275227689567406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3515896215982804031.post-83522174108917173642015-04-17T09:49:00.000-07:002015-04-17T09:49:02.548-07:00Pertaining to the modern era<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
It felt really great to know that ASUS- a home to computer
hardwares and accessories- has now come up with an advanced range of
smartphones. But in order to choose the best of bests, one definitely needs to
do a bit of research. And once my research was complete (which took me a little
more than an hour), I indeed came up with the smartphone that not only proved
the best not only among other other smartphones, but also proved itself
something more than just ‘smartphone’ owing to its super-versatile features and
super-extended battery life- fully pertaining to the demand of the modern era.
Here are the five best reasons I have chalked out (from among many that I
found) which proves why <a href="http://www.asus.com/Phones/ZenFone_2_ZE551ML/" target="_blank">ASUS Zenfone 2</a>- the best among the bests- is indeed
going to rekindle your smartphone experience-</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->1.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> 1. </span><!--[endif]-->A smartphone should be no less than a PC in your
pocket! It often happens that you are busy playing your favourite game when
suddenly you cannot move ahead and miss your target score just because your
phone suddenly slows down. But now, this problem has come to an end. With its
super 4 GB RAM- that is seldom found in any other smartphone- Zenfone 2 gives
you an awesome smartphone experience- be it in terms of gaming, internet-browsing
or any other activity.</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->2.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> 2. </span><!--[endif]-->It often happens that you are busy chatting with
your loved one sitting on a train, when suddenly a ‘low battery’ message pops
up on the phone. You have to immediately end the chat and keep the phone on
stand-by lest you can’t attend to emergency calls. You keep wondering what
percentage of battery charge it carried when you had plugged out the charger
for the last time. Well, with Zenfone 2, this problem won’t trouble you as it
comes with a battery life extended to a great extent. And the best thing is
that you do not have to hold your patience for long when your phone is set to
charging, as the speed charging of the phone can charge the battery to as much
as 60% in a mere 39 minutes. So with this phone, you can get a long lasting
battery life with very little patience.</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->3.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> 3. </span><!--[endif]-->Want to send a selfie of yourself to your loved
one? Or want to capture some rare scene? A poor quality camera in your smartphone
spoils the moment. Zenfone 2 is here to solve your problem in this regard as
well. With its Pixel Master Camera, the device helps you capture high
resolution, stunning pictures at any hour. Here, you do not need a flash while
capturing low-light scenes as the device helps capture photos upto 400%
brighter at night. The camera has a giant resolution of 13 MP where as the
secondary camera is of 5 MP.</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->4.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> 4. </span><!--[endif]-->Right from apps to MP3 to movies, you may be
tired of storing things in your smartphone- but the device won’t. With its
internal memory upto 64 GB (and memory card support of 64 GB), you can store a
large number of things in your phone. The huge storage coupled with the 4 GB
RAM is indeed going to make your smartphone a PC in your pocket.</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->5.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"> 5. </span><!--[endif]-->Last but certainly not the least, the device has
a super IPS capacitive screen with 16M colours, with a resolution of 1080x1920
pixels. Its v5.0 (lollipop) Android OS comes as a cherry on the cake.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;">
At the end of the day, I really
feel awesome being a proud owner of this brand new version of ASUS Smartphone.</div>
</div>
Söuvickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04009275227689567406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3515896215982804031.post-50093401600885563562015-04-05T09:28:00.003-07:002015-04-05T09:28:46.785-07:00Meeting The Dreams<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
I always feel amazed when I look at my past. I compare my life today with my life then. And what I can see around is an air of optimism. An optimism that helps me dream my future. My present also is nothing but the future I dreamt of in my past.Today, thankfully, my dreams- that seemed bit futile then, have met the goal of reality. And that's why, my dreams for future no more seem futile.<br />
Ten years back, in some big school present in a small town, a small boy could be seen crying in front of his senior- pleading him to allow him in the elocution competition. He was rejected. He waited for the 'next time'. And next year when the time came again, his pleadings began. This time he was told he would be informed. And just the next day, the boy found the list of selected students on the notice board. The boy was not even allowed the audition. He was unfit in the eyes of the captains for he had never participated in elocution earlier- and they felt his performance would lead their house to defeat.<br />
The boy was broke. He waited for a ray of light. He ultimately found it a few years later, when he reached class 9- when a teacher praised him for his English. For the first time, the boy felt he got something he needed very much. His hidden shelf was getting transparent. His dark within found a tiny lamp of optimism.<br />
That year, as usual, he was not allowed audition for elocution. But something awaited him- that he didn't know right then. On the day of the competition, once the main programme was over, the Principal invited students from the audience if they wanted to say something on any one of the given topics. The boy came to know it was meant for him. He rushed to the stage.<br />
The audience chuckled and some even laughed when the boy came in front of the microphone. They must have wondered he would only make a fool of himself as he was not one of those regular orators. But by the time the boy ended his speech there was an applause from the same audience. He was recognised.<br />
And then there was no turning back. By the time the boy left school, things changed to such an extent that when speech or writing-based item took place, his name was present there by default. The boy never denied any chance. He, however, never took part in extempore.<br />
Time flowed. The boy completed his HS and joined college- in an entirely new place. Every face was new to him. But he knew he had to be a known face to those unknowns. And one day, he got the chance to kick-start his mission- when the teacher asked the students to present a seminar speech on a simple topic from the syllabus. The boy had no idea about seminar. But he still raised his hand. He was called. He faced his classmates and just said whatever he knew and personally felt about the topic. He was now a known face among his classmates. But his reach had to be widened.<br />
He fell in the eyes of the college seniors and union members when he presented a speech in the teachers' day. A few days later, somebody from the college union phoned him and asked him to come to the college the next day, as a bunch of competitions was scheduled by the union that day.<br />
Next day when the boy went to college, he was shown the list of competitions. He took part in essay writing.<br />
When the programme began, one of the organisers asked him to take part in extempore as well. The boy denied straight away as he had never taken part in it, and secondly, he feared he could be given any topic based on that particular city, which he was yet to know properly. But the organisers said topics would be as simple as train or minibus or <a href="https://housing.com/lookup" target="_blank">house</a>. In order to keep their request, the boy said 'okay'.<br />
And finally, the extempore competition began. The boy's turn came. He was asked topic a folded chit from the plate. He picked one. Unfolded it. He expected 'train' or'minibus' or 'house' to be written there. And the topic read-<br />
"She is mine, but I am not hers."<br />
<br />
The boy looked at the waiting audience and the bench of judges. He then went in front of the microphone. Taking a deep breath, he began. He told about a boy who loved a girl a lot, yet could not get her acceptance as she ran after a richer guy. He spoke with emotions as far as possible. And towards the end, he found an applauding audience and judges. When the results were announced, he was declared first in the competition.<br />
And then, the ball came in his court. He was known for his speech and also his writing. In his final year he became the publishing secretary of the college.<br />
Today, as the boy- that's me- is writing this blog-post, he still is looking back at the time that he feels has blown like a gust of wind.<br />
<br />
My dream is getting fulfilled. Slowly but steadily, I know I can make it. For in order to pave the way to my goal, there is the presence of optimism- in abundance.<br />
</div>
Söuvickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04009275227689567406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3515896215982804031.post-31485891838398462532015-04-02T02:21:00.002-07:002015-04-02T02:21:54.193-07:00The First Meet<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
It is said that a thing of beauty is a joy for ever. Today, in our vast life, if we are able to find some time for our dear ones, it becomes one of the most happy moments. The moments may be temporary, but the memories are permanent. The happiness returns every time we remember the moments. The momens may be planned,may be unplanned. The joy remains constant. The joy comes when we suddenly meet some school-day friend in a train. It comes when some relative pays a surprise visit. When there is a reunion in our alma mater. And the joy comeswhen we are alone in our cosy bed, recalling those times. My life has also lived those joys. The memories stillremain tomake me happy during sad hours. One of those most special memories is of the time when I had met Nidhi for time.<br />
Nidhi had become my friend on Facebook sometime in the beginning of the year 2014. I do not quite remember how exactly we peoplecame in contact. Her facebook profile resembles that of some army officer and that is the reason I initially had presumed it was me who had sent her the request as those days I was looking for someone who could help meclear some queries regarding army life owing to one of my stories. However, Nidhi later told me the request was from her part as those days she was looking for a suitable bride for one of her relatives and sent friend-requests to any young boy she found on Facebook (but in my case, she found the'groom' to be too young who was not even a graduate right then).<br />
Anyways, with the flow of time, I and Nidhi came closer. From friends, we turned best friends. From Facebook, we expanded our conversation level to phone-calls and Whatsapp. Chatting became a daily routine where we shared our deepest secrets with each other. I became quite desparate to meet her in person. Then one day, she said she was coming to Durgapur- my place- for a couple of days.<br />
I was overjoyed to hear this. The next few chats saw us make plans of how and when to meet. Then one day I informed Nidhi that I had filled the form for CDS exam. She became bit excited and asked me not to purchase any book as she herself would give me one.<br />
And then, on the scheduled day, I went to Junction Mall, the placewhere we were supposed to meet. I went to crossword bookstore and surfed the books as I waited for her. Just then, my phone rang. Nidhi was waiting for me downstairs.<br />
I immediately went down the escalator to find Nidhi stand near the giant gate of Junction Mall. It felt great to see her for the first time. I presented her the friendship band I had brought for her. And then she said with a smile, 'There is something for you as well.' So saying, she took out a couple of gift-wrapped items from her handbad. On her persuasion I unpacked them then and there. One was a set of Ferraro Rocher chocolates and the other one was a beautiful key-chain with Lord Krishna and Radha carved on a gold plate. I simply was delighted seeing them!<br />
We then went to Crossword Bookstore where I got a chocolate set for her. From there we went to the third floor of the mall. There, we gossiped like anything! We laughed and joked so much that the people stared at us. We also had serious moments. We chatted for two full hours. And then, we took photographs. The, as we came out of the mall, Niwi gave me the CDS reference book and a few old question papers which indeed were a cherry on the cake. And then, as we waved goodbye, I felt my heart bit heavy.<br />
That was my first and only proper meet with Nidhi. We met again months later as my CDS exam was over and I had to return the book to her. But this meet was a temporary five-minute one. Chatting continued and still continues- though less as compared to earlier ones. But since I have left Durgapur now, and am in a place where she hardly can have a reason to come, I do not know if I ever will be able to meet her again. But the hope is alive.<br />
The time we had spent <a href="https://www.housing.com/" target="_blank"><span id="goog_1709347556"></span>together<span id="goog_1709347557"></span></a> that day has become an everlasting memory today. The key-chain she had presented is still with me, safe in my locker. I take it out of the locker whenever I recall her. I kiss the carving of Radha and Krishna, put the key-chain back in the case, and place the thing back in the locker.</div>
Söuvickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04009275227689567406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3515896215982804031.post-88168718457941336412015-03-27T02:37:00.002-07:002015-03-27T02:37:50.585-07:00A Friend Who Never Forgets<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
Optimism, for me, is a way of life- a way that is greatly
influenced by the surroundings. A few cool drops of rain in the scorching
summer heat carries optimism. The first leaf in a new born plant carries
optimism. The first sign of improvement in one’s pathetic health condition
carries optimism.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Optimism, in a nutshell, is when one looks at the brighter
side of life. It is something backed by hope. So, whenever there is a ray of
hope- be it anywhere, there is presence of optimism.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To me, optimism is that friend who doesn’t come every day,
but also doesn’t forget visiting forever. According to a proverb in Hindi, God
may delay your fortune/ wish, but won’t keep you deprived of it as well. I have
seen this proverb work on me to a great extent, and whenever I found a ray of
hope sitting in the dark room of despair, I found optimism. When I was very
young, a comment like ‘good’ brought me optimism. When I solved a sum from the
hardest chapter in Maths, and made it correct, I found optimism. When I found
my first paper go very well in my exam, it brought me a lot of optimism which
helped me in the other papers to a great extent. I have been knocking the doors
of publishing houses for considering my debut book for quite a long time. There
was a time when I just lost hope and felt I never would supposedly be
published. And then, an offer from a publisher to give my story a place in his
anthology came as a big amount of optimism for me. My dead hopes seemed to take
a rebirth. Today, all I can say is the day is not far when my book shall be
found in print.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Since my birth, I had been living on rent. We never had a
house of our own and I was quite sick of following the rules and regulations
fixed by the landlords. Three years back, we had been visiting a large number
of apartments in search of a suitable flat at a reasonable price. But
everywhere, we found some or other issue. And then one day, my dad phoned me
informing that he had found an awesome <a href="https://housing.com/lookup" target="_blank">flat </a>at Raiganj at a comparatively low
price. There was an air of optimism. We went forward with it without giving a
second thought. Today, we own that flat. We don’t have to count monthly rent
anymore.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have found optimism in several things. But my favourite
story of optimism is hidden in the town where I have spent my entire childhood.
I remember the days when I used to study using oil lamps and lanterns. I was
sick of the unmetalled roads and cart-tracks. We used to spend days without
electricity in case there was a fault in the transformer or some electric pole (which
was very frequent in stormy or windy days). The break-and-fall of the wires of
electric poles has taken so many lives. And then, one fine day we found
developments tale place. It began with the roads turn metalled. With each
lane’s road turning metalled, everyone around was filled with optimism. ‘Our
lane also shall be the same one day,’ was the common thought. After the roads
developed, came the turn of electricity. The power-cuts became shorter and the
necessary wires were replaced with new and quality ones. Apart from this, the
construction of park has given a room for recreation as well as employment
opportunities to many. Development has been seen in other fields as well.
Today, my town carries the aim to stand parallel to any other fully developed
town. Optimism is the key that is keeping its determination alive and constant.</div>
</div>
Söuvickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04009275227689567406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3515896215982804031.post-621538678668818852015-03-23T09:25:00.001-07:002015-03-23T09:29:01.859-07:00Unknown Hands<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
While leaving the town Sahibganj forever in order to start
my new journey, I was subjugated by a lot of fear. It felt as if I was to die a
life and take birth to another one. ‘What will happen next?’ was the inevitable
question. How life in a big town is, or how is the lifestyle of the people
living there- I simply had no idea. Sahibganj is a small yet beautiful town-
with the Rajmahal hills on one side and River Ganga on the other. There are
neither wide roads nor modernised super bazaars, and needless to say, no
multiplexes or malls.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It would, however, be wrong to say that I never had visited
any big city earlier. I often had visited places like Durgapur or Kolkata
during holidays. But during those days, things were different. I was a minor,
and whenever I went out of house, a hand always held me. A hand that I knew- I
trusted upon. Now, things were different. I neither was a minor, nor was going
to just visit there. I was going to <i>live</i> there.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But at that time, what did not come in my mind was that in
Durgapur also, I was going to stay with people of flesh and blood itself. Be
they however, they are human beings.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I put my feet on the new place. My new life had begun. Things didn’t seem that
complicated as I had thought of. The town with its vast area covered by the
steel plant, the <a href="https://housing.com/" target="_blank">huge constructions</a>, modernized markets, etc- had people no
different to us. As time passed, I gathered new experiences. In Durgapur,
cycle-rickshaws were not that common. The most common means of transport was
the ‘minibus’. In Sahibganj, buses could be seen once in a year or so- mostly
owing to some marriage ceremony. So, the experience of travelling regularly in
this vehicle felt awesome! Apart from this, I got many new experiences- each
experience backed by a new lesson. I learnt to get lost. I mistakenly chose
wrong paths. And when I realized it, I then looked around and asked the people
there for help. They guided me and I ultimately reached my home. Every time I
lost my route, I discovered a new one. And then I realized that now I didn’t
need any known hand to guide me. There were several hands. Unknown hands.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I joined college. I was again afraid as I recalled what I
had heard about college. Warnings like ‘Be careful, your seniors will rag you’,
‘they may force you to smoke and drink’, and so on, coupled with the fact that
I would have no mate from my past and everybody would be new- made me nervous.
But as I went inside the college, I found the atmosphere very different. I was
welcomed with a rose by a senior. While I stared around at the campus building,
somebody asked, ‘what is your name?’ I replied, ‘Souvik Mukherjee.’ ‘Wow! You
are Souvik Mukherjee, and I am Souvik Aich,’ he smiled and extended his hand.
Within moments the unknown hand became a known one, which stayed with me till
my last day at college.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had presumed, things would be different. But what I saw
was that things were the same. Only the dialect was different. The building was
same, just the paint was different. I rarely found titles like ‘Verma’,
‘Paswan’ and ‘Gupta’, where as discovered some new ones like ‘Aich’, ‘Gorai’
and ‘Hati’. I missed the hills and the Ganges, but discovered multiplexes and
plazas.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
The main thing that I learned in this new life is that
others are no different to us. Their hands may be unknown, but once we extend
outs, they immediately will extend theirs. As we are looking for more and more
friendly hands, they themselves also are looking for the same.</div>
</div>
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Söuvickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04009275227689567406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3515896215982804031.post-54691455088234440782015-03-21T23:12:00.003-07:002015-03-22T03:14:12.421-07:00Small Moments, Great Happiness<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
Happiness is something that has come in our lives as a
blessing. It is one of those things that, unlike any material stuff, increase
when shared. It is in anything that brings a glow to one’s face. Happiness is
in sharing with dear ones, a funny incident one has come across in life. It is
in a call from a long-lost friend. It is in getting a shoulder to rest your
head and cry out your tragic moments. It is in a surprise visit by relatives.
It is in getting a share of candy from your beloved. It is in the nostalgia
when you look back at your past. It is in spending time with family. Happiness
also is in the feeling that you have made someone else happy in some way or the
other. You feel happy when you donate blood, or when you distribute your old
belongings among the poor, or share a part of your knowledge with some junior.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Overall, happiness is collectively found in the sea where
each drop is a small happy moment. One cannot simply keep a record of the
moments. And the most ironical thing that I myself have seen in life is that the intensity of
happiness I have received has been the most in the smallest and most simple
moments.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It makes me remember a small incident from our college days.
Those days, many little kids roamed outside our campus. Whenever we came out of
the college, they ran to us hoping to get some money or a small part of the
fried cookies or popcorn that we purchased. That day, we were a little away
from our campus with our friends- in a small restaurant enjoying sips of our
ever-so-favourite Coca Cola. A little boy who had hardly reached his teens came
to us. He showed some cartwheels and small gymnastics and began asking money.
We paid him in small amounts. I do not know what caused me to do this- as the
fellow was turning to leave, I told him to hold on. I purchased a fresh bottle
of coca-cola and passed it to him. He was overjoyed! And the sight of his happy
face doubled my happiness. It is said that money can't buy happiness. But that
day, a few bucks from my pocket had a bottle of <a href="http://cokeurl.com/96jnc" target="_blank">Coca Cola</a> had bought me a bunch
of happiness.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
They say- a day without smile is a day wasted. A genuine smile
is something that always is backed by happiness. Happiness is a necessity. It
adds colour to life. And it is something that you can create for yourself,
share with your dear ones as well as receive from them- anywhere and
everywhere.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/aQ3uhnByS1k" width="560"></iframe></div>
Söuvickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04009275227689567406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3515896215982804031.post-15586007251060021712015-03-19T00:12:00.000-07:002015-03-19T00:12:55.973-07:00The joint effort<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
The present era, needless to say, is the era of ultra-modern
technology. In every part of the world, digitization has become a part and
parcel of human life. To be at par with the flow, the Government of our nation
also has made an envision of a Digital India- where communication network among
the citizens becomes quick, convenient and hassle-free. In order to give this
dream a shape, electronic governance- or e-governance- has become the need of
the hour.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By e-governance, one may refer to the various forms of
communication that take place via information and communication technology
within the government framework. It is the means that can carry people’s voice
to the government and vice-versa. We all know that India is a vast country that
bears a population of around 1.27 billion. And so, it has not always been
possible for the voice of each and every person to reach the Government. Lacuna
has always been there and the ones who have fallen victims to that lacuna have
had been deprived of their rights. E- governance is a measure that widens this
communication route between the people and the government to a great extent
because of the presence of technology. And- as they say- charity begins at
home. Once the communication system in the Government’s own framework is digitized,
it can move forward to digitize the entire nation- giving birth to the awaited
Digital Media.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Here, the term ‘technology’ plays a crucial role. It forms
the key to the entire endeavor. <a href="http://www.intel.in/" target="_blank">Intel</a>- the multinational corporation that
simply is anything and everything of technology and believes in the versatility
of it- has come as the helping hand in realizing the vision of our Government.
The corporation has taken smart initiatives such as ‘Digital Skills for India’
and ‘Innovate for India’ through which it has been fostering technology for the
noble cause. The versatile technology provided by Intel is to give a master
boost to the vision by strengthening e-governance- by which its own as well as
the commons’ communication with the government will widen up. The government
can now interact with the people as well as with the corporation. It can
interact with its people regarding the matter and give directions to the
corporation accordingly- with Intel at its best in implementing it, as always.
The joint effort by the Government and by Intel can realize the #DigitalIndia
vision in the best way- bringing our nation at par with the globe in this
field.</div>
</div>
Söuvickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04009275227689567406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3515896215982804031.post-74212853390563354672015-03-15T11:28:00.000-07:002015-03-15T11:28:11.517-07:00The Nostalgic Phone<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There is nothing constant except change, as they say. With
the flow of time, we keep upgrading ourselves. When I was very young, our house
had a miracle machine- by which we could hold conversations with our dear ones
whom we could not meet every day. I was told, the machine was called telephone.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I was in the fifth standard, I saw the advanced form of
this miracle machine- the mobile phone for the first time, and by the next
year, my papa purchased one. With this, I got the opportunity to handle it.
They also say that our first experience of anything stays in our mind for a
lifetime. They are not wrong. The feel of touching the machine once heard or
seen in TV- of pressing its buttons and staring at the patterns of liquid
crystals on the screen- of looking for what features this wonder contained-
everything is fresh in my mind.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The terms ‘Motorola’ or ‘Moto’ make me quite nostalgic, for
I happen to roll back to those good old days. It was one of the few brands
available in the market then, and was used by the parents of a good number of
my classmates. I remember, my maths tutor had one such set. While teaching, he
frequently took breaks for a quick smoke and happened to leave his cellphone
there itself. We- the ‘abodes’ of naughtiness- used to simply pick the phone,
look for games and read all the messages present in it. One day I even had made
a phone call to my landline number as an experiment, and was badly caught later
when the teacher found my number in the call-history.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Days changed. Phones got upgraded. They now had cameras,
MP3 players, internet facility and so
on. With the popularity of internet, grew several social-networking websites
and advanced search engines. Today, we have smartphones- the climax in the
field of mobile phones till date!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A phone is incomplete without its features. Today, every
other phone comes with an internet browser and several internet-based
applications. Here also, smartphones are leading.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What makes a smartphone suit my fancy from day one of my
getting acquainted with it- is its ability to support the most advanced and
quality versions of almost every
application- be it some browser, some app of some social-networking site, or-
last but not the least- some awesome- graphics-game.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have heard a lot about the <a href="http://startwithmotoe.com/" target="_blank">Moto E smartphone</a>. I have seen
it in pictures or in the form of models and have got a liking for its faster
appearance. I, however, have never got a chance to handle it yet.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As said earlier, this brand fills me with nostalgia. The
reason might be the long gap between my middle-schooling days and now. With the
emergence of several brands, I couldn’t quite hear the name of ‘Motorola’ for
days. And today, it feels glad to see the old ‘Moto’ back- that too in the form
of a smartphone. The little fellow has now grown up. It has developed wings!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If I get the chance to operate a Moto E smartphone, I would choose to start with some game present in it- be it any. By playing the high
definition game, I would re-live the time I played the simple games in my tutor’s
phone. I would play continuously for an hour at least, until I am fully done
with it. And then, I shall go for exploring its other features.</div>
</div>
Söuvickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04009275227689567406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3515896215982804031.post-28815407283835681362015-03-13T11:13:00.003-07:002015-03-13T11:13:47.271-07:00Just think... for a short time...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
We say proudly that we are the citizens of India, and we
love it. But just think for a short time, do we love our motherland in true
sense? If yes, then how is it that one never hesitates in spitting and throwing
garbage on the roads and public places? We get our homes cleaned
regularly. But how many of us do ourselves take the initiative to hire
servants and get the roads and drains of our locality cleaned, when we proudly
call India our ‘home’? If anybody complains, we curse the government. We say
the government is worthless. But did we ever give it a thought that what we
have done for the government? On one hand, most of us try our level best to
evade taxes, and on the other hand, we expect the government to make roads,
water-tanks, hospitals, schools, etc. We forget that it is we ourselves who
make the government, and the government can’t do anything without our
co-operation.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Some persons are in the view that India is still bound with
poverty and illiteracy. It is true. India is still not free. But the sad part
is that we have tied up our motherland this time. We call Indians our brothers
and sisters. Bit we seldom try to come forward and help our those ‘brothers and
sisters’ who are starving for food and education. When a small child begs on
the footpaths of big towns, they actually doesn’t beg a small coin. They beg a
better living. They beg proper clothing and education. They beg to be one among
us. But we give them a small coin and chase them away. To even touch them, it
hurts our ‘prestige’.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are plenty of more examples. Twice a year we hoist our
National Flag. But we just pass by if we see such a flag fallen on the ground
with people stepping on it. When a movement comes, we take part on rallies and
shout out loud, often to see our photos in the newspapers of the next day and
narrate our ‘achievement’ to several people. But do we ever pay heed to why the
movement has taken place? The live example is the Lokpal Bill Movement. Lacs of
people all over India led the movement by Anna Hazare against corruption and
wore the cap bearing his name. But how many among them did take a resolution
never to take nor pay bribes (and followed it till today)? It is somewhat same
as smoking a cigar, and blowing out the smoke telling ‘smoking is a bad habit,
one must stop it’.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Time is still there. Just take out five minutes from your
daily schedule, and think over these matters. If you feel boring, just remember
the last time when you said ‘I am an Indian’ or ‘Jai Hind’.</div>
</div>
Söuvickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04009275227689567406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3515896215982804031.post-13746262343208454372014-11-18T05:46:00.000-08:002015-03-13T08:32:27.276-07:00Doomed destinies<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="mbl notesBlogText clearfix">
<br />
<div>
“Student hangs
himself to death”, “Youth commits suicide”, and many more such headlines
have become common in newspapers nowadays. The pertinent question that
comes through is the fragility of the concept of hope in the youth of
today. One may answer, “Because of excessive pressure to study”, while
others may opine that it is “due to excessive punishments.” However,
such things were present earlier too. It was not so copious then, so why
now?<br />
Each student has a life that they hold dear. Why will they
lose their lives for so simple a matter? They do it not just for one
reason. There are plenty of reasons that make a youth develop hatred for
his/ her life that is enough to make him/ her commit suicide. An
average child today has a routine of getting up in the morning, getting
fresh, and sitting for study (or tuition), and then getting ready for
school. A little breathing space isn’t granted to them either. There are
certain reasons behind this as well which include vast syllabus,
competition and others. The child is burdened with all these things. He/
she has no time to rejuvenate…. and enjoy their childhood. They little
time they get as leisure, too is consumed by televisions showcasing
violent serials or inane computer games. No physical activities, no fun
of group play, no laughing out loud, no dancing in the rain.<br />
Apart
from this, some children are forcefully sent to art school, sports
schools, etc despite their unwillingness. If a child likes it from
within, it is okay. But if the child doesn’t like it, he/ she won’t ever
excel in it. Some parents are in a mad rush to make their child
proficient in every field. The child has to tackle so many things at a
tender age.<br />
Coupled with this if the child also has to punishments
for their poor results or threats, it becomes unbearable. This compels
the child to despise life. This drives them to commit suicide.<br />
This
is not the tragedy of just one or two children, but the entire youth of
today. It is pathetic to see this dooming destiny of the youth. An
average youngster, who should get ample time to play in tandem with his
studies, is placed amidst bulky books every time, three to four or even
more simultaneous tuitions, school homework, tuition homework,
assignments and the likes.<br />
To stop this, one must see that one’s
child gets ample time to play, to enjoy. Study and play must go
simultaneously. Only then the child will experience the fun of
surrounding childhood. And the youth will again flourish.<br />
<br />
<i>(see this article of mine in the 'durgapur-asansol plus' page of 'The Times of India' of December 30, 2011)</i></div>
</div>
</div>
Söuvickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04009275227689567406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3515896215982804031.post-68551419597870358032014-11-18T05:42:00.000-08:002015-03-13T08:33:42.335-07:00Memorising Life<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
Once a person was asked, “Why do most of the Bengalis not
become officials of the highest ranks? They are reduced to serving the
capacity of junior staff or subordinate employees.”<br />
The person
answered, “Because of today’s system of education and learning. The
students of Bengal mostly go for coaching classes and mug up notes given
there. Seldom do they try to analyse the matter it contains. This is
why the students from other places come to Bengal, study here, and and
attain higher position in the hierarchy of life while our own children
can’t do that.”<br />
The statement of this person doesn’t just apply
for the students of Bengal, but a good portion of students of today. The
students feel mugging is a shortcut to score high marks in the exam.
They go for so many tuitions, where more than understanding things, they
‘purchase’ the notes from their teacher, and spend days and nights
mugging them up, just to replicate them in their answer paper then
forget everything. Does this actually serve the need?<br />
The
practical knowledge is not yet received. The students can get good marks
in the test, but cannot get that knowledge to innovate. They can solve
problems, but can’t invent new ways to solve it. As a result, they later
become junior staff, following the orders of their senior. They become
soldiers, but not kings. They become trend-followers, but can’t ever
become trendsetters.<br />
The world is full of such examples where the
persons who have succeeded just due to their ability. Isaac Newton never
appeared for IIT, but still his name is in science books, and his laws
are studied. Bill Gates, a dropout of Harvard University, is now the
founder and chairman of Microsoft, where many IITians and engineers are
now working under him. There are many more such examples. In this case
the teachings of Baba Ranchhor Das is applicable ‘Son, don’t run after
success. Run after ability, and success will itself come to you.’<br />
<em>See this article of mine in 'The Times of India' of January 13 in the 'Durgapur Asansol Plus' page.</em> </div>
Söuvickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04009275227689567406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3515896215982804031.post-88626540284523143232014-05-28T22:37:00.000-07:002015-03-13T10:15:03.587-07:00e-World rules???<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Technology has reached its climax in the modern era. Today, one cannot even imagine of progress without a computer. It is true that computer and its related gadgets have made our lives a lot easy. They indeed act as fourth dimension, helping us reach our goals faster. But whatever it be, one must never forget the utmost truth that e-world is quite different from the real world.<br />
Today, every Dick and Harry is seen tapping the buttons of their phones when idle. A child, who is expected to play outdoor games, is often found playing video games, or chatting online. Ironically, an average child of today plays cricket, football, etc, but nothing real. Everything is limited to the computer screen, and the keyboard/ joystick.<br />
One cannot just disregard the fact that while busy with some socially networking site a person is close, yet far away from their near and dear ones. The pleasure in being with someone physically is much more than that being with them online. Although they say that internet helps us to be close to one another when we are far apart, the paradox lies somewhere within. If we see closely, phones and internet are taking us far from one another. Just look at our past- the time when we didn’t have a phone and perhaps didn’t know what internet is. We often moved from one place to another just to wish a happy birthday of some dear one. A get-together during some festival was mandatory.<br />
Now just have a look at ‘today’. We get online regularly, but often cannot meet our near and dear ones for months, even years. We think, internet serves us the need. Season of Raksha Bandhan- just upload the best photo of rakhi shown by google on sister’s profile, and send some money in her account, and phone her ‘Happy Raksha Bandhan. I’ve sent some money. Get a present for yourself,’ and it is done. Relative’s marriage- wish him/ her via phone and also send the blessings via satellite, and it is done. This continues for months and years, too long to make us forget the last time we had actually met. We often say that our vast life and tough job doesn’t allow us time for a real meet. In this case one has to admit that these gadgets have not reduced, but increased the work of people. Life was not so vast when these weren’t there.<br />
Does it mean one must discard these gadgets? The answer is ‘no’. One must make the fullest use of these gifts of Technology and Science. However, one must keep in mind that everything has a limit. One must make sure that one rules a machine, and not be ruled by it. Also one must never ever forget that <span style="font-weight: bold;">there is a life apart from e-life</span>, which is far more beautiful and worth-living.</div>
Söuvickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04009275227689567406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3515896215982804031.post-55211449494511762462014-05-19T01:44:00.000-07:002015-03-13T10:16:48.101-07:00Enjoy your life...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
"What do you want to do for future?" the teacher asked.<br />
Some students replied, 'MBA', 'CA', and many other such abbreviated letters. When my turn came, I said, 'M.Com'. The class stared at my answer. Later, a student came and specially asked me, 'what will you do by doing just M.Com? Why not CA?'<br />
<br />
I'd like to put forward a question. Suppose you get chance in CA, MBA, IIT, AIEEE, or anything as such. You labour hard, get good marks, and a high post job in a named company/workplace. You earn lakhs. But what's your life? You spend 20 hours in office, and work even on Sundays. You don't have time for family and relatives. You can't complain as you earn lakhs, a big amount. Will you be able to enjoy your life? What's the use of the lacs of money when you just can't enjoy it?? First, You burn midnight lamps preparing for the tough course. Then you get a job that keeps you locked in the office for the rest of your life till you retire. Increase in blood pressure. Tension at every step. Life's a complete hell!<br />
Instead, if you follow some simple line, say, a bachelor's degree in something followed by another such thing, you can get a good job. You may earn in thousands, not lacs. But you can enjoy the money you earn.<br />
One may ask, this world is competitive in today's era. So should we not accept the challenge? My answer is, of course take the challenge, but only if YOU enjoy the race. Don't just run because your friends too are running or your dear ones want you to do it. You run after IIT, and then spend the days writing assignments you don't fully understand and solving boring problems following the bookish process, and cursing the poor teacher and the fellow who had invented IIT. You won't get a good rank in your IIT in this case because you are not enjoying it. Instead, if you like it, of course take part. You will enjoy solving problems and they won't be boring. You enjoy classes and practising the matter. You enjoy life at every step, and even get a wonderful rank. This would get you a good job, and you'd enjoy there too. But this will only happen if you like the subject from within.... not because your friend likes it, or some relative wants to see you as engineer. Craze won't be valued everywhere, especially on something your entire life depends on.<br />
<br />
So What I want to say, is, don't just run after 'anything'. See that whatever you do, you enjoy it. Think about your future, but keeping in mind you have a life to LIVE.... to live fully and enjoy it. <strong>See that your career or job does not turn your</strong> <strong>life to hell.</strong> Nothing can be worse than this. Thank you...</div>
Söuvickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04009275227689567406noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3515896215982804031.post-48901177464025262462014-05-02T23:51:00.000-07:002015-03-13T10:17:49.334-07:00The poor-mark child<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
30 out of 100...! Is this Marks?! Slap! Slap! I spent a lot for u, gave u whatever you needed, wasted thousands on your tuitions, still... What's the result? RED MARKS?!!<br />
The child listens this silently, with a heavy heart. He knows, he has to listen this from many more places. He is making himself ready. Papa is a friend of so many neighbours, even the grocery shop owner. He'd go and tell everyone. The child would be scolded from every side.<br />
The child also knows one more thing. He'd fail in the next exam. But is too young to say this. Why won't he fail? He has the habit of overstudy. His day begins with pinchings and pushings by his mother early in the morning for his tuitions. He has to present himself there by 6, or even 5.30. The teacher is praised because he is never late there. Why would he? He knows he won't earn money if he doesn't go there. It is his daily bread. And what else does that teacher do? He cannot get through the books of his student, just reads and explains the matter more to himself than to the students. He calls the students 4 to 5 times a day to open their books and revise. Hence, the teacher becomes great in the eyes of the parents. The child can see just books around him. Wherever he goes, to the playground to grocery shops, his papa's friends say 'don't u have studies?'. Even in school, papa has some teachers as friends. Those teachers are the his spies. The child does a single mistake, and the news reaches his papa.<br />
The child gets hatred for studies. He keeps his book open, but can't study. He memorizes, but forgets soon. Something else is going on in his mind during studies. What's that thing? TV, games, comics,....those which he didn't enjoy, or rather, couldn't enjoy. His tuition times never allowed, and his poor marks added fuel in the fire. Game is a necessary part of life, which he didn't get in optimum amount.<br />
The tutor once said, 'your child doesn't study. Just takes poor exam, and after that, asks his friends <em>'tum kya likha, tum kya likha, tum kya likha'</em>. Yes, the child did so, but why? To know if his own answer matched with his friends' answer. But what was parents' reaction? 'U take poor exam, and r concerned of what others have written?! U r guardian to those students?! See yourself. What will u do by knowing what <em>they</em> have written??' The child was told by papa the next day, 'your every movement in school would be watched, and the information will directly reach me. I have phone, Mr..... (some teacher) also has phone. He and the other teachers would inform me of every thing u do at school. What u write in exam, what you do after exam,....everything'. Papa tries to frighten the child. He has actually done nothing so much. But the child is too young to understand this. All he does is fearing the teachers. He finds himself in chains. His mania reaches to such an extent that even if he laughs with his friends at school, on seeing one of those 'spy' teachers, he stops laughing and hides himself. He seldom plays in the recess breaks, fearing his spy teachers would see, and complain his papa. He always tries to hide from them.<br />
The child can't play, and as a result, doesn't have knowledge about games. He can't even hold a cricket bat properly. His papa directly told him 'your games are banned' on the day he saw the failure result. But he had actually banned his child's games long ago, when he appointed tuitions for him, one which taught him 4 times in holidays, and twice in classdays. Still the child struggled. Struggled with all the mental pain, and brought good marks in all subjects, but flunked in one, where 90% of his classmates didn't get the pass marks. He expected better reaction from his parents this time. But, poor fellow, he never knew that a new line would be added in papa's scolding words. 'You have failed in this subject knowingly. U have been able to get good marks in the rest, means you would pass in this subject too. U have knowingly left the questions so that you fail. You have failed on your own wish'. Forget the praise for the efforts the child did to get 75% and 85% in the other 14 subjects. The child could tell of his classmates' performance. But he knows this would work only if his friends had done better. 'All others could pass. Why can't you' was the sentence his papa used. But now, he would say, 'what scores others have done, no need to look at. Just tell why YOU have failed'.<br />
'Had I failed in some more subjects, papa would have scolded me less. I'd not be blamed for failing knowingly', the child thinks. And he knows, he would score poor marks even in his next exam.<br />
<br />
7 YEARS LATER<br />
<br />
'You have not lived your life, son. At your age, we played so many games. You cannot even hold a cricket bat properly. All you do is staying at home, and increasing your tummy. You are not at all fit for today's world'.<br />
The child, sorry, the college guy looks at his papa. He asks in his mind, 'who's the cause behind this, papa?' but can't speak out. The fear that had grown in him long back for his papa, still haunts him. The mania remains....</div>
Söuvickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04009275227689567406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3515896215982804031.post-14049938097395463512014-04-10T11:28:00.000-07:002015-03-13T10:19:00.213-07:00A friend with love....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
She was my friend, then best friend, then... more than just friend... And then, Love. This was what chain of relations I had made with her. She was my friend from the beginning. She even became my best friend, on my proposal. But I never talked to her of my further relations I had secretly made with her.<br />
We then lost tracks. She went somewhere, I went somewhere else. We had no touch for a year. I didn't have her number, and we weren't on facebook. I missed her, but didn't care much. My 'love' was not perpetual. And I feared, if she falls in love with someone there... What would happen to me?? I can't spend my entire life as Devdas. I have to forget her. No, she was never my love. Just friends.<br />
We suddenly met after a year on facebook. Yeah, she was still my friend. She didn't forget me. From facebook we switched to phone. Often we talked. One day I wrote on facebook, 'i'm in great problem'. Soon I got a call from her. She asked what problem I had. What should I tell this? Love?? Yeah, of course its love. But this love is from a dearest friend. She had never 'loved' me, but always loved me as friend. And I kind of enjoyed it. I felt angry on myself for bringing in all such crap. Even I had tried to forget her while we were away. But she didn't lessen her true friendship. This touched me the most.<br />
I've come to a decision not to bring topics as love. I enjoyed more as friend.... A pure, doubtless and problem-free love that's 100% genuine. It is free from crap such as jealousy. Of course, it took time to change my mind. I felt jealous when she talked and joked with other boys. But tried to control it.<br />
Today, everything is ok. She's still my best friend. I no longer feel jealous of other boys talking with her. We even say, 'hey, when are you getting married?' She smiles and says, 'Shut up!'<br />
I'm waiting for the day when I shall dance a lot in her marriage.... In the marriage of my lovely best friend.</div>
Söuvickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04009275227689567406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3515896215982804031.post-23108206993214875732014-04-08T08:13:00.000-07:002015-03-13T10:27:46.968-07:00O Friendship<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
You are life, you are love....<br />
You are the best thing, in the world....<br />
You are hope, you are joy....<br />
You can be gifted, but not sold....<br />
<br />
O friendship, you are a boon,<br />
You are born with a golden spoon.<br />
Between two strangers, when you bloom,<br />
In both the hearts, you make a room....<br />
O friendship....!!<br />
<br />
There's a joy, or sorrow to share....<br />
No one else is needed, if a friend is near....<br />
In case the world, doesn't at all care,<br />
It’s the true friend, who'd always be there....<br />
O friendship....!!<br />
<br />
They will fight with you, in their leisure....<br />
They will do this, just for pleasure....<br />
But they will prove the biggest treasure....<br />
When there is a problem, without a measure....<br />
<br />
O friendship, you are a magic....<br />
A relationship that's most unique....<br />
No barrier nor any hindrance....<br />
Can come in between two friends....<br />
<br />
O friendship....!!<br />
O frieऽऽऽऽndship....!!</div>
Söuvickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04009275227689567406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3515896215982804031.post-71492738145925424842014-01-10T10:30:00.000-08:002015-03-13T10:36:00.316-07:00Angel's diary<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">An angel had a great wish to see how the world is. He requested God. God turned him to a human being and sent him to Earth for a day, with a diary to note down whatever he saw. In the evening when he returned, God asked him for his diary. In it, the angel had written: </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">"I've come to this beautiful world with beautiful creatures in it... But the most</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"> beautiful ones are the ones they call 'people'.... The ones like whom i myself look.... I speak like them, i feel like them. I'm laughing in happiness, crying in sorrow.... All... Just like them. Then why do they differentiate me from themselves?? Goodness! They are differentiating even themselves from each other!!<br />Some say 'I'm a hindu', and some, 'I'm a muslim' but i see they look just alike. Let me come bit closer... Oh! What am i seeing?! Difference after difference!! The hindu says to his hindu friend, 'i'm a brahman, u r a shudhra'. Is it the same in the other place too? Yes.... The muslim says to his friend, 'i'm a shia, u r a sunni'.... The christian says, 'i'm a catholic. You go to Protestant Church!'<br />Amazing! But all of them look alike.<br /><br />I can see a beautiful house. A young child celebrating his b'day with several kids like him. All are dressed like angels... No! One is in torn clothes....<br />Yes... The birthday-boy's mother has come. She saw the boy with torn clothes. She is coming near him.... Yes! He'd be dressed like them now!<br /><br />No! What am i seeing? The lady tells that boy to sit on the floor, not on the sofa like others! She chids the her son for allowing her maidservant's son to sit on her sofa... Goodness! This is the training centre of differences?!<br /><br />I can see a giant mango tree outside this training centre. Let me go to the poor servant's house.... Amazing! There too, is a mango tree.... Same big! The mango tree didn't find any difference! But the people who look the same, have discovered differences among themselves?!<br /><br />Yeppie! Its raining!! Sky showering drops free of cost!! Same water everywhere! The wells in all the houses have increased their water level. Amazing! They didn't show partiality... All are benefitted.... The Brahmans, kshatriyas, veshyas, sudhras, shias, sunnis, catholics, protestants, sikhs, poor, rich..... None is left behind. Nature shows no difference. Then why do the people make themselves aloof from one another??<br /><br />Sad scene! A nearby house has lost a near and dear one... They are silently taking the body for burial. I'm pleased at their respect to the passed-away. But a similar scene on the other side! Another dead person is being taken to the place of creamation... The people are not quiet. They are repeatedly praying for the peace of the departed soul.... Difference in dialect! But intention is same.... Showing respect to the dead.<br /><br />I can see many more things.... Festivals! They are religion-specified, but are present in all religions. Amazing! The persons of every religion wear new clothes and enjoy in their respective festivals!<br /><br />People are same.... They look same, and are same even from heart. They have just created unnecessary differences among themselves"</span></div>
Söuvickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04009275227689567406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3515896215982804031.post-19665342179715865192013-09-16T08:48:00.000-07:002015-03-13T10:36:45.221-07:00SMS Good day.....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Its my hobby to compose messages in my free time. Here are some of them i wanna share. I'd keep adding as i compose/ recall some more I have made.<br />
<br />
Good Morning sms:<br />
1. The moon is gone,<br />
The sun has come.<br />
The new morning is just awesome.<br />
It begins for you, a new day<br />
To lead in a new way.<br />
I wish you a very good morning sun,<br />
And this day be a wonderful one.<br />
<br />
2. Morning has a new sun....<br />
Morning has a new start.<br />
Morning shows a new route<br />
To fulfil the dreams of one's heart.<br />
So time has come to leave the bed<br />
And march for the new day ahead.<br />
Good Morning.<br />
<br />
3. The morning sun shows the glimpse of the day.<br />
It brings with itself, a hope's new ray.<br />
The buds that slept at night in bed,<br />
Have now become Roses, crimson red.<br />
And every new Rose that blossoms,<br />
tells u, your day would be awesome.<br />
So enjoy this new day.<br />
Lead it in a new way.<br />
Good Morning.<br />
<br />
Good Night sms:<br />
1. The sun has gone after whole day's labour....<br />
The moon is seen amidst the clouds' river.<br />
The stars from behind peer and peep,<br />
And wish you a Good Night Sleep.<br />
Good Night.<br />
<br />
Good Evening sms:<br />
1. The day is marching towards its end...<br />
The night is beginning its trend.<br />
In this time of prayer and peace,<br />
I wish you Good Evening, O my friend.<br />
<br />
(more to be added in coming days).</div>
Söuvickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04009275227689567406noreply@blogger.com0