SMART, very smart!! Dont even know if it happened for real but I do know that this post is real and whoever reads it gets the message!! But if its real Love the guy for it! My Independence day special :))

An indigenious example of speech and politics occurred recently in the United Nations Assembly that made the world community smile.

A representative from India began:

"Before begining my speech I want to tell you a very very old story about Rishi kashyap of kashmir, after whom kashmir is named.

When he found a beautiful lake,
he thought-"What a good opportunity 2 have a bath",

He removed his clothes,put them aside on d rock and entered d water.

When he got out and wantd to dress, his clothes had vanished.

A Pakistani had stolen them! ??

'The Pakistani representative in Assembly jumped up furiously n shouted
"what r u talking about?
The Pakistanis weren't there then." ?

Indian representative smiled and said,

"And now that we have made that clear, i'll begin my speech.

"And they say Kashmir
belongs to them".
Everybody laughed.

Ode to a Metro you wouldn't want to walk out of!

South Mumbai Fever-Be There Do It

This piece is an ode to the city that gave me the most precious gift of my life, My li'll daughter Gauri. I treasure her initial growing years spent in the southern part of this magnificent metro which is fondly referred to as the "Sapnon ki nagri" (the city of dreams). She lived her three formative years troddig around on the famous Marine Drive, taking in every bit of the Arabian's blue expanse and being in a part of the metro that had huge banyan trees and a beautiful old world charm.

Sometimes we end up in places we had always dreamt to be in but had never imagined lady luck smiling that wide at us. My tryst with "That's the best life can shine" began with my 3 yr stay in Colaba, South Mumbai. Hard hitting realization is that metros aren't always about concrete jungles and tones of polluted air.
South Mumbai talks to you, houses very old wrinkled buildings that whisper autobiographies into your ears as you pass through the streets below, ancient Banyan trees, which have been witness to endless elderly conversations over cutting chai, to careless laughter of teenage love and soft rumblings of the yellow top taxis and the commuter friendly red colored buses, a characteristic of South Mumbai. This part of the metro is green, is clean, and is beautiful. An evening out on the busy streets would tell you why it is called the city of dreams for people from all and every walk of life. The Causeway houses the best of branded showrooms to little stalls with all the knick knacks you could have come looking for, very colorful and very bustling.
Well this part of the city also houses the Taj Mahal Hotel which incidentally is Mumbai first harbor landmark and is even older than the adjoining ageless Gateway of India. The majestic hotel has borne testimony to many historical events which included a dastardly massacre during the terrorist attack on Mumbai in 2008.The expanse of the blue waters along the Apollo Bunder road is dotted with ferries, yacht, fishing trailers, and a few water scooters here and there. The sea too seems to have offers for one and all, the ferries for the tourist heading to the Elephanta Caves, the Yacht and water scooters for the avid sailors and adventurers, the sea delights for the local fishermen.
A Street right behind this colossal Hotel houses another Mumbai wonder, the "Bade Miyan" stall, the popularity of which attracted the Discovery Channel to do coverage on it. The stall offers a range of delectable Non vegetarian snacks to delight your taste buds and hold them at ransom for a lifetime.
The busy streets always seem to make way for the Horse Chariots that have just not lost their charm and craze over all these years. These run along the Marine Drive and the Apollo Bunder Road with families with bright smiling faces, dreamy gleaming eyes and sea breeze easing its way through their hair.
Marine drive is the reason why Mumbai is called the city that never sleeps, whatever time of the day or night it has tiny feet scurrying past, the middle age and the more aged taking their walks or reflecting on their lives, whilst the younger lot just sitting dangling their feet looking far into the horizon or the placid waters talking, planning, hoping, dreaming and celebrating life. It has it all, the local masseuse clinking his oil bottles, the chai and coffee wala with his endless array of local snacks, the local artists creating and displaying their art, the local very gifted hands that would draw your caricature or live sketch within minutes, little hands selling everything from balloons to flowers to handmade toys. If there is a best time to be on the Marine Drive, it is on the Diwali night when the whole of South Mumbai is out here lighting up the cityscape and beyond with a self styled self- help cracker show so ethereal, so celestial, no other anywhere can beat. As the street lights light up all along the stretch of the Marine Drive, they look like precious gems on a queen's necklace and the stretch is even called so for this reason - "The Queens Necklace"! One far end to the south is a about a 100 meter stretch of concrete lined with rocks jetting out into the sea with water on all three sides called the Nariman Point, which is the focal workstation of Mumbai with major business houses existing here.
The Financial Capital of India has the Bombay Stock Exchange neatly tucked in the alleys of the Fort Area, which bustles with brokers during the day time and bollywood car chases during the nights thereby contributing to the city also being called the Entertainment Capital of the country. A walk through these relatively deserted alleys past dusk brings back memories of a lot of bollywood masala flicks with the hero chasing the bad boys through them. The same alleys also house one of the best Iranian Café with menu, recipes and taste that you wouldn't find anywhere else. Close by is another must visit, the Central Library.
Not to forget the Mumbai Local train, this is an adventure of sorts, an apt test of your surviving skills! If you haven't climbed into a local train, your journey to discover this magical city is incomplete. It's a place to be in if you are looking at a crash course in being a Mumbaiite.
The undaunting invincible spirit of the city so rubs onto you that Mumbai continues to haunt you endlessly. It's an assurity, if you've belonged there a while, it'll hold your heart forever, you will beyond the slightest doubt keep heading back. I fondly call it the "South Mumbai Fever" and I am always waiting for its relapse.

Coffee Morning at Vivanta Taj...par... Maahi ve , teri yaad aati hai re...chandan si dhoop mein, badli ki ore se....maahi ve...hosh ho na khabar ho, shab dhalay na sahar ho, aik aisa safar ho aur tum saath ho....raat jugnu sitaaray, rang khushboo nazaaray....pyaar ke hon ishaaray aur tum saath ho....
...... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P85sXtTsLQ0tion

Arrey Rama Arrey Krishna!

Arrey Rama Arrey Krishna.

This article has been published on "The Viewspaper" already. A thought to echo the beautiful lines "Tu naa jaane aas paas hai khuda" (You're not aware, but the lord is around you). I loved writing the piece, a thought that always had been hounding me found its spirit in black and white, ready to bre shared. Hope you love reading it too.
 http://theviewspaper.net/arrey-rama-arrey-krishna/

Religion confuses me and then of course there is also the fear that any related discussion on a public domain might upset a hornet’s nest, no matter how innocent and well- meaning the thoughts and ideas be. Is it better to feel stifled and safe than to speak out and face the music?

I belong to a Hindu family and am blissfully married into a Sikh family. My daughter, I lead myself into believing, belongs to no religion. And maybe that’s how I would want it to last. While she has had assignments to do throughout her first year in school, I admit, I deliberately made her miss the “Hindu Muslim Sikh Isaii, Hum Sab Hain Bhai Bhai” (We are all brothers) one. I did not want her to know anything about religion. I would rather want her to know that every living creature, be it humans, animals, insects, plants just about anything is all equally precious and need to be cherished and taken care of.

In fact I would want education and knowledge to be the sole religion world over and then if people would still want to outdo one another, they would end up transforming it into a world which is worth living in. If this is not to be and I am to abide by a force beyond the worldly ways I would want to reincarnate my God into someone I could live my life with and not have him live it for me instead, governed by a set of rules and regulations.

My idea of God is totally different. God for me is my most treasured friend. He is all around, watching me and watching over me all the time. So much like my conscience. My conscience that keeps me away from doing what is wrong. Wrong? Food for thought, because what might be right for me may not be so right for you. Debatable.

But isn’t the thought of letting your conscience decide what is wrong or right, a little more comforting than a bunch of religious fanatics twisting the content of scriptures?

There isn’t a greater restraint than your own conscience I feel. I have idols of almost all the Gods and Goddesses adorning the walls and shelves of my living room, but I give lesser thought to where they can be placed, the direction, the height, the position et al. And that’s because I love to have them around more as my friends than as an invisible force telling me the “righteous” way of living my life.

I would rather not let her (my daughter) have roots that are only meant to tie her down. I would in fact want her to follow a religion that knows no rituals, is not nation specific, transcends boundaries and traverses borders.

I am not an atheist. I am a firm believer of the invisible might. I love going to temples just as much I love going to a Gurudwara, Mosque, or Church. But it still scares me to introduce my four year old to “religion”, maybe because of what we have made it today.

Religion as it has been made to be today makes me feel that my little wonder may be better off without it. If I can teach her to be compassionate, humane and true, she will have all of the almighty’s blessings, even if she hasn’t read a scripture all her life and hasn’t sung praises of the Lord. She will be his special child if she can share her blessings both in cash and kind with the likes of her.

I have been a believer of God, all my life and want her to be one as well but the world as it is today makes me scared of the prospect of her being manipulated in the name of  “religion”.

I am happy she was born to parents who are tolerant of all religions and every belief and who are sensitized to the truth of how the faith and beliefs are being twisted and misconstrued to suit personal gains and settle personal vendettas. I wish I could leave a more tolerant world behind for her. As for now I feel it’s best to be a good human being than be anyone else.

Religion as I understand is meant to set you free and not chained down to living your life by the rules. The only rules to rule us, I wish, were only that of being compassionate, tolerant and giving.

I went to dine one night in a plush restaurant. When I walked out, I had packets of leftover food in my hands. Just about to leave I noticed two peering eyes looking at us. A wrinkled old man, dressed in tatters, with a pair of thick rimmed, thick glass spectacles. Gray hair, drooping shoulders and a back that was very bent. A stick in his hand to help him take another step, crooked knees and dusty bare feet.

He presented a dilapidated picture, but he wasn’t begging. Something made me ask my husband to walk up to him to hand over the food to him. Normal.

What happened next stirred my soul that day. Unlikely, unnatural and I know not why, my husband put his arm around him and asked him his name. He replied “Bhagwan” (meaning God). I stood there looking at his fragile body and weathered look and then at the detached crowd around, what stark contrast. And I did feel “His” presence around me that day.

From that day on my belief that God is all around us, in every one, in everything, became stronger. Of course I would serve him better if I could do a bit to feed a famished toddler, clothe a cold but bare old lady for a cold winter night, help the gray haired grandpa cross a busy street, and treat my help’s children to a new set of stationary. This is the religion instead I want my little girl to follow and this is the way I want her to follow her quest to seek God. Today’s strife torn world would then be such a beautiful world to be in. Amen.

Shubhani Pathak

Hoping after you have read this there won’t be a soldier who is “unknown”, you promise not to let yourself be prejudiced but to let yourself be in awe of his might and his march and be gracious to acknowledge “his love for your life”.
This ones another of my published work from "The Viewspaper". If I were to ever write an autobiography, this would go in too!! Reproducing the content for you to read and "Sincerely" hoping it makes the difference I want it to.
http://theviewspaper.net/an-ode-to-the-hero-in-olive-greens/ by Shubhani Pathak

He Is In Love With Your Life!

“I am the Unknown Soldier

And maybe I died in vain,

But if I were alive and my country called,

I’d do it all over again.”

                                     Billy Rose.

One of my fondest memories is of my “maiden voyage” on an airplane as a young soldier. I laugh when I think of the experience now, and every time I narrate this story the audience cracks up in splits.

But each time I am left thinking, for a very long time. I hope my desperate attempt here leaves you pondering and makes an iota of a difference to the way you look at the “Men in Uniform” the next time.

The choice of the incident has been deliberate, after all who has the time to read about the mundane, so after you have had a hearty laugh, let your heart do the thinking for you and lead you into believing, for the rest of your lifetime, that the unsung heroes deserve your respect.

For various reasons the orders of my last minute “posting” (as we call it in the army) came almost two days before the date of joining at the new location, so I had no time to get my facts right. It’s been 12 long years, but the memories are still crystal clear. The news of getting to move to Leh-Ladakh brought with it the hope of being treated to wide, bright smiles and folded hands of a couple of breathtakingly beautiful flight attendants. Well, the airport greeted me with a sight of a huge Indian Air Force aircraft that looked like a “mommie” eagle but I couldn’t spot any stewardesses at all.

The tarmac did have a lady scurrying past to and fro, very busy on her Motorola set, dressed in combats and doing wonders at managing a 200 plus crowd of young soldiers. She was certainly not related in any way to my picture of an enchanting flight attendant, no, not even remotely related. On the contrary she was a perfect picture of a commander in full control of an eager mob ready to rush into the “Fauji” (army) aircraft.

Authoritative, crisp, loud and stoic. Amazingly attractive and charming in a totally different way. The aircraft, well, an experience in itself.

We were all “loaded” in it along with a herd of de-skinned goats and a seemingly large flock of poultry, not to mention tons of desiccated onions, tinned tuna and the rest of the ration with an obvious stench; so strong.

The aircraft had no windows to offer any of the picturesque views I had dreamed of and the seats were more of metal planks plunked along the length of the plane, on either sides with the middle area carrying our luggage  “with us”, the goat herd, the poultry flock, the vegetables, and believe it or not, soldiers comfortably perched, wherever they could and to top of it all, just elated at being air lifted.

So much harmony, nobody seemed to be minding anyone or anything at all. Quite a sight, trust me. A sight?

Well, yes but it did not end here, you ought to have  “heard” the mighty plane as it waded its way through making 50 different noises, each different from the other and varying from squeaks to thuds and screeches that sounded nothing less than an impending crash to me. With no view of the outside I had no idea of whether I was going up in a tizzy or going down into a freefall. It was all left to my imagination. If one can talk of being nearest to God ever, probably, this was my moment!!

I wonder what I have left you thinking till now. Leh- Ladakh which is cut off for most part of the year from the rest of the world has only these airplanes to lift you into and out of the valley.

I am sure you have heard of jokes where a groom failed to reach “just in time” for his own wedding, well, you will find plenty here. The best part being that you will find the soldier laugh it off like every other hardship that the forces throw in his way.

In my initial days I would often, hear people identify the type of aircraft approaching the runway, even before they could see it. It was the characteristic rumble and echoes of the noise it would create to reverberate in the otherwise silent countryside that gave away the identity. It took you a little while to realize how all of this becomes a part of you while being in a land where, this is your only hope of going back home and being able to cuddle next to your loved ones.

It was overwhelming to see soldiers “wait” for the “mommie” eagle to come and take them under her wings. Overwhelming to see the soldiers wanting to clear up the runway with whatever they could, sometimes even their bare hands, totally out of their own free will, just to let her land.

I guess I stopped counting how many times I wanted to do it myself only to be able to go home and see my family. It didn’t take me long before I had learnt to identify the aircraft from its noises, yes, well in time before my very first chutti (leave). What is heartening and far more than just heartening is to see the forever happy faces, always lit up, no matter what lay ahead of them.

This was a live tutorial on how the forces had made them winners for a lifetime, against any odd, in fact against all odds. Why just them, the forces had made winners out of the families they leave behind, to not just be able to fend for themselves, but to do it with an undeterred pride that they take in the uniform that their loved one adorns while he/she chose to safeguard the interest of his/her country selflessly and tirelessly. It was in this flight that I saw these men elated to be “loaded” into a sturdy piece of metal that helped them get to their destinations, as against so many of us who complain of crammed seats in an economy class of the low fare airline.

While so many of us are so busy filling coffers that we “forget” hugging our little bundle of joy, it was here I saw this man who held on to the memories of a hug his little treasure had given him may be a quarter of a year back and hang onto them till the same piece of engineering and machinery would fly him out of this far off land, back to his wonder child again.

It was here that I saw a man who even in this era kept a letter from home neatly folded in his pocket because he had no way to speak to his lovely wife till wee hours in the night. And this man I saw here, on this flight, was happy, still happy, way beyond the grasp of all the limitations. He was HAPPY, to be serving the nation, to be serving you and me!

After the narration was over, and most of the times interrupting me well in between, most people would say “Is this how the Forces treat you?” And if this is what your thoughts are echoing too, you have let the story mislead you. What you have not been able to see is the indefatigable spirit and  encouraging confidence in emerging as a winner no matter what, ingrained and etched deep by the very forces in these young men, transforming them from being boys to Men of valor.

This is my story of a flight that let me have my first sneak peek into the life and psyche of the Hero in Olive greens. The story of knowing why he is THE HERO and the only living superhero, invincible, undefeatable and very precious to the nation, to you, to me. It is he who stands guard, vigilant on the borders and it is him and him alone who makes these borders impermeable and impenetrable.

I had been the gallant soldier’s daughter all my life, and had been seeing the forces so closely for so many years, however the true awakening only came when I became a part of it myself. From this first incident post donning the greens to an unforgettable unmatched Odyssey through the years that followed, there were innumerable experiences that only enriched and strengthened my faith in the heroes. They led me into believing there was nothing that was unconquerable for them and that they willed to do it, knowing still how ungrateful the beneficiaries have been. The beneficiaries my friend are no one but some of us out there. We argue, we reason and it is very sad and it hurts.

You might say that this life is a choice he/she has made, and from you I wish to know how many of us today are willing to make this choice?

How many of us would move undeterred  and not be even slightly scared to move forwards knowing that we might be staring into the face of our “own death” and still fight it down to the last bullet and that too with our own bare hands and come out a victor on the other side.

This is his life, every single day. It’s time to be grateful to a patriotic fanatic, perpetually eager to stare at danger and uncertainty right into its face, and all this “for you”. You are right that just about everybody is doing their bit towards the rise of Incredible India but how many of us would graciously face death for an ungrateful lot and be forgotten by that someone once he is a fallen soldier?

Now that is what being a soldier is all about. We have amongst us old wrinkled moms and grief struck dads who lost their sons and daughters forever, for our gain. So, next time you want to belittle “THE” sacrifice let your conscience do all the weighing for you and let your heart do all the thinking for you.

This is an acknowledgement and a salute to the ones donning the uniform, for being ever ready to valiantly give their today for my today, for my tomorrow and to the parents, wives and children of all these men for being equally brave, as our Heroes.

Hoping after you have read this there won’t be a soldier who is “unknown”, you promise not to let yourself be prejudiced but to let yourself be in awe of his might and his march and be gracious to acknowledge “his love for your life”.

Shubhani Pathak