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Love
I am painting my love to you against the backdrop of 1976 at PU CHD. One nice day someone told me there is an option to go to the univ for further wastage of Dad's money. I do not remember how Jaspal singh Kalra was invented. Its something a real big missing link of evolution. If I make a Pythagoras theorem of relativity I feel my tutor or say professor at National college sirsa Mr. chug seems to be the person who probably could become the newton to find the laws of motion. First tell me what the hell you are doing with this bloody shushandr rekha - this is not your standard darling , better keep distance from bloody kejriwals of Bombay Film industry who hardly know bloody abc of corruption but become the messiah of eradicating forces of corruption and the like . I know your tender heart may not like my remarks but darling ask this shushandr what is this bloody keep or say a distance do the hell she wants to say the peoples do not know the nomenclatures of private parts hell it yaar. Yaar are you that scared . Just ensure to yourself No bastard can touch you , you better throw away your bloody security as they look too too clumsy bloody toilets on roses. I remember I was opting for zoology but Jaspal told me its a dirty subject better come to botany because of its clean environment. Later on I learnt he was looking for someone who can accompany him to sirsa on vacation days as his father was a railway employee so he used to get subsidized tokens for a say 50 paise or so for the whole visit and for any number of times it were available. One day he told me his sister believes that if a sardar is there then he is male others are may be someone in between or so. She could only recognize a person in turban so she was not sure who the hell I could be. I was more interested in crashing some exam for MBBS so I hardly bothered of any nomenclatures of the period under discussion. I remember I was selected in AIIMS entrance final select list but the other part is a sad story I will tell you when you will meet me in person. One day I went to National college another sardar friend of mine met me and told he got selected in Dhanbad medical college but before I could say any thing as token of your bullshit world Professor Dalal of Physics subject at the college intervened and politely professed " he has gone to university", my brain got fused at his remarks so I kept quiet.
Probably my quiet habit has never taken further exuberance after that.
Love
I am painting my love to you on the backdrop of punjab university Chandigarh the cauldron of making and de making. Generally it is said a university is a mirror of society but love its a bloody escapists statement of those who hardly read the books or say who have become bloody schoolia nothing else. I remember there was a character called Masud in my hostel days. this bastard was nothing but some bloody khomeini he prostitute. you will wonder why I am using so strong and attitudinal words. Its rather very complex thing to understand at the first instance. He used to enjoy the food , quality of education and the sophisticated environment of the university. I feel he did his masters in history. He always grudged the development of India and its natural resources whilst forgot the hell of his own soils. Similarly this equation gets further percolated to many many many metamorphic stages or phases or say simply existential s. Arvind kumar sharma was one of the old acquaintances of mine. I remember I told you of some daftry at my office who used to drink liquor laced with opium and was bed ridden for months together with continuous vomit ting and having even toilets in the bed itself and his wife used to clean whole hell and tolerate his abuses whilst with a sorry state of the house too. Now kiran says she has a psychiatric sick mom in law , I have told her the solution too but she feels still she is handicapped. I was telling you of some sharma , one day he bestowed upon me an English dictionary from sector 17 for Rs 40/- which I paid to him but since I was busy at my some say job of bullshit botany so I could not go to sector 17. I remember I used to scold him why the hell he was wasting his father money in not being faithful to him and lying bloody all the times. Any how One nice day I suddenly saw him walking around sena bhawan , I left my charted bus to meet him. He was too nervous which only later on I could get that he felt bad at seeing me having a job and he failed to get one. Now anu lives at sirsa and you have made her to suffer for so long and I dont feel you have a bullshit idea of saying a courteous sorry to her. I never knew kiran has one anu with her. One nice day I was going to my village but bus was late so just strolling at the bus stand. I met an another old time acquaintance Mr. Pyara Lal he was too elaborate bloody sirsa style dekh lo ji phir aap sirsa ko bhuul hi gaio ho, he told me he has discovered bloody Einstein on earth who happened to be my friend at my university the greatest possible beauty queen of the universe Chandigarh. he politely said he is Mr. Arvind Kumar Sharma. I took the address and said I will meet him next time. Cell phone was not invented by bloody America by that time. One day again I got struck at sirsa and came to know that Mr. Sharma is on the trace of mine. I accompanied him to his room somewhere Anu happens to pulsate hard to come of her accidental aspects. I found him very affectionate and got to know he was working as MR ( medical
rep ) in a sirsa company having its different branches over that geo graphic area.
Later on I came to know neither Payara Lal could be traced nor Mr Sharma and kiran devoted poet shiv kumar batalvi has put his best efforts to say : meinu kha gayein mereiyan hi chavan.
Love
I feel you are responsible for anu accident at sirsa. You will be aghast what the hell I have written in this bullshit love letter. I know I have very considered point not to write sciences but some how I am compelled again to opt for writing sciences only. I remember I have been continuously asking you to accompany me to anu place and it would be a great time as she is very sophisticated smart and intelligent girl but your non sense nerves could never understand. I told you she makes such a wonderful food that you will forget the bloody five star culture too in bloody one go. Had you been there as persisted upon too many times she would not have got a bifurcated psyche that resulted in her less energy threshold at the D day.
Love
if I am not failing at my general knowledge which I have no mood to increase as I need no bloody IAS examination to crash at, Meena kumari life time tragedy queen ship and Hema Malini 25 yrs of rule over the silver screen has something to tell you and anu too. Anu dad is looking after a bloody certificate of matriculation so probably you are some how trying the same thing.
any how psychiatry is not simple and I have no intention to elaborate further.
Love
there is no body who can even think of taking punjabi panga with my pencil.
I remember Dad was an ingenious person a person of his own dedicated nerves may be an entirety whom I can not sketch in uni some.
I remember there was no boundary lines of my village mirzapur. Dad house was flanked by a huge really huge spacious lawn that supported sand s and sands . It was such a huge place that a five-eight star hotel can be constructed on it. I know in spite of my infinite some powers I could not do that. Dad used to be a busy person round the clock owing to his unrelenting instinct which probably no body could get an inkling from where he flourished such an elixir of power of physiological set up. I know now a days some sikhs have illegally occupied every thing and bloody nanak eats food with me only and these bastards say he resides at harmandir sahib. I know you also visited there for your bullshit pennies and the like. Dad agriculture land was so big that it needed practically 2 hrs for it s simple supervision. Dad was having around 10 acres which consisted of sand dunes only. the height was say about
1.5 meters . Dad planned his way of doing the thing s but his own brother s were hell bound to thwart his innovative nerves. Dad wished may a sand storm come and let it take whole of this sand in the form of shifting sands and throw it away around the end less expanse of that haryana parts. But chinar kei fool to' darling bantei bhi hei aur khushbu bhi deitei hei.
I remember Dad used his own ways and means to level this field over a period of say when I was going to my 8th standard in 1969 whilst Dad was capable of clearing his lands of jungles in 1952 itself and that too with his own hands.
Love
I am painting a love to you on the backdrop of 1963. My school at village mirzapur consisted of one big kacha room. This room was further partitioned into a bigger part for classes and smaller one for teacher and sometimes for miscellaneous purpose say some special occasion when external guide or inspector used to come and sit with the teacher for some discussion part of the school activities. It was flanked by a big lawn that further extended into small portions of land divided into plot s where we were tasked upon to grow certain plants of our choice as part of say extra curricular activities. Probably teacher used to be of this opinion that jobs are something not feasible in those days also. He wanted to inculcate an instinct in us to become self reliant under the village environments so to speak like. I remember parents never interfered in the school way of functioning. I and some other co students planted onions in a plot. Another plot we chalked for growing flowers. There were total four big plots for such purpose. A hand pump that was installed almost in the mid area was used for small time irrigating the plants. There was no fashion of bringing the food to the school. I do not know if we ever heard the concept of ti fen so to say. One day it was around 3 O'clock afternoon , we were doing our this activity of planting and looking after the plants. I remember two of us, me and some other chap of my age only were feeling very hungry. Dad never gave us any money nor mom had the habit of keeping purse etc. Dad was having a barter system with the local shop keepers for purchasing items meant for house and farm related activities. I dont think I ever thought the pros and cons of the system. Option of taking something from the local /village shop keeper was ruled out at our psyche level. We started looking for those onions which were a little thick or say developed so that some mouthful food may be there. I remember I was eating the onions as if chocolates or say pizza or say tandoori chicken or say momos . It was tasty but too pungent at the same time but love hunger was a fact to reckon with.
shabdo kei galyarei sei
come on love
that bastard kumar vishwas has spoiled the Hindi language itself as I wanted to use the word shu leina but it stinks love
let my heart say
I love you
moments come
fly past
catch me hard
is it you
my heart says
may be
may be not
is it
my nerves search you
inside me
out thy
come love
I fade
words say
its hard
Love
I am painting my love to you on the backdrop of 1959 to 1965 but I will be sketching only a single trait you can feel like. If you give a command to Google earth and your system can bring a bird's eye view of village mirzapur. My Dad house has a huge entrance supported by a concrete door frame the wooden door or say gate is no more visible and just enter the house take 25 steps and look towards your right. It was the location where a hand pump stood tall to the happening days of my dad. I remember dad never fetched water for me he always wanted me to be self reliant . I was too small when I learnt how to pull the pump just by observing neither mom nor dad but some peoples employed by dad or some persons who happened to take water from his pump as hand pump was a luxury at that time to speak like. I remember there used to be a small gathering practically all the time s of reckoning to my small nerves.
I used to take a small iron bucket fill it with water and take a glass it was bronze I remember and have a wash /bath with no under wear of any sort. I remember it was tough time but sooner or later I learned how to do the job.
I have cleansed my bathroom I thought Kiran will say uncle is bullshit psychiatric medicine addicted chap and hardly bothers for keeping the things intact. I have done a quick wash to the bathroom. Kiran is not well he just telephoned me and I think bombay is not that far away too, may an air plane can bring you here.
Love
I have cached one of the most exotic and romantic snaps of thy I can feel you from these what should I say electronic hearts. I was telling you of my those eventful days when river gaghar was put on embankments so to say like. I remember I told you of the romance of life and how your bullshit movie makers can not even think of what the hell I have happened to write of. One nice day a school friend told me that river is flowing at its full stream. I am painting a love based on the backdrop of say 1963-64. We started at around 3.10 PM. I can not remember the date but your snaps are so scintillating beautiful that my heart is saying better create a date. I have already created a date for you and that is printed at your heart my love. It took about half an hr when we reached a place where waters were rushing at such a horrific speed that any body may get shivers out of the mere scene of its ferocity. We sat quietly along the upper most reaches of the bank I could see uprooted trees with big trunks were flowing as if they were catching the confronting one like Milkha Singh. But there was no chance for us to leave the place in hurry nor we gathered strength to touch the waters probably my heart wanted to know the touch of yours first. yes deepika its absolutely true my own brain gets swirled up at my own writings.
Love
generally I take your snaps with others when a certain what should I say your acceptance is felt otherwise I simply dont take. Lady Diana fiasco is something that stirred the people who happened to be say so called liberate or say literate etc. Its a well known factor she was profusely beautiful and was accepted by the royal family because she belonged to an environment where delicacy or say common sense is recognized as a basic precincts of life. But love you never know what is the outcome. If you had have met sunita minhas in university times or even much later you would have given her a certificate that if a good girl exists that is only sunita minhas no body else on this bullshit earth. Well ! probably I have written what may storm the brains on earth. Lady Diana cold not understand that royal tag comes with a price tag. You can not behave like bloody Mayawati or bloody Kejriwal or say some bloody crank advocate or bloody Anna Hazzare or Kumar vishwas the greatest poet of earth damn it yaar, there is a limit to nonsense. I was talking of Lady Diana, its true she suffered from a psychiatric disorder. Its just equivalent to that of sunita Minhas. The person suffers from a complex whereby he or she feels at top of the world and bottoms down at other times I am cutting short but this patient ie. Lady Diana had another illusion whereby the person feels that her sexuality is something like bloody Cleo patra and the like. I remember she herself accepted that Charles is a frog but love that is not the way to understand life as a frog is not a frog in sciences. If you happen to be in my bed you may also conclude like that only. I feel this explanation is sufficient the rest is a history.
Love
your this snap is something say 8 star standard. I do not know your environment much but whenever I get a chance to see something I feel a real non sense around. May be like what should I say well very very difficult to describe the filth and I dont feel like wasting my energy to do this damn job. Some times I feel what would have been had there been no snap of yours. I have seen the toughest nerves or say the excruciating moments of life but again I feel may be you have been sent may be for me only. Probably this is what you are telling me through this electronic method so to say on ricky way of understanding the life around.
Love
If I can remember life was never rosy but you may have noticed I clearly tell you that I always paint roses. I remember by the time I could understand a little of my responsibility and the like road connecting sirsa to mirzapur was having a different scenario as the bus started running via kutawadh -its a village at midway. I remember I have used this route too frequent to reach my village when mom and dad lived their with their family and the like. I remember bus used to stay for half an hr at kutawadh and conductor took a long time just to relax and eat something just in no mood to go further as the bus hardly had any sufficient persons or say passengers to carry forward. It used to be very late at night when I was at Mirzapur. May be mom and Dad evoked a relevance that could make my system to understand that its the only life and I actually remember I never felt exhausted or bored. I dont feel ricky and navu have such phenomenon with them. May be shakunis never allowed their complete development.
Love
some times I feel this pc is bullshit more lucky to me as it possesses you whilst I continue to run my pencil you are no where near my house. Some bullshit auto wala did encircle it showing its bloody affiliation to damn kejriwal etc. Now a days New Delhi International air port is quite a different scenario. It needs an extra sense on both the persons coming and receiving to enable smooth pick up. If any ego happens to strike anywhere at the brain functions then only god knows how to locate the person. Now a days when ricky and navita come they come and go but I feel a little uncomfortable so to say. The mechanical way of New Delhi has changed a lot on concepts and perception levels and one has to tell to itself that its now a changed life style. If you love a person you happen to see her his ever possible glimpse or touch to enable your soul be a little comfortable as coming brings a different shower so does the departure but love these nuances are not easy to understand for those who are either bloody shakunis or some relative eg your father mother and sis can never understand what the hell I have happened to write.
LOVE
I am painting a love story based on the backdrop of a memory lane say of 1961-62. Mom inspite of her rural background was always fascinated to urban life. I remember one day she was saying her parents and she originally belongs to some kalyana area of erstwhile west Punjab of British India I have not uttered its new name as I have already derecognised its existence as a separate entity and have used my sciences that its a part of India only. Dad charted a plan to visit haridwar. We started on a fine early morning with a little rustic baggage I know kiran is very sophisticated but sophistication s of those eventful day s were not less defined. ( I will continue. ) Love kiran is a biologist too if I can remember. Just ask her draw a TS LS of mitochondria and tell the physiological functions of lysomes. She has forgotten that sanjeev mom was also a kiran too at one eventful day of the life. Any how I will continue. Sirsa was a sleepy town as life appeared as if nothing moves without a real wait. Dad knew it will take hell time for his i ternary so he took a long route via saharanpur of the yore. Railway was a shook shook aaja chali aaja chali ja. Now I am shifting the scenario to haridwar itself. Harkipauri was a desolate place at that time and hardly anybody was visible. Dad stayed in sarai that was a makeshift of private house. Dad was not a religious crank so he avoided any bloody panda type chap over there. I remember we were inside the waters at harkipauri with Dad mom and me. it was just like your any five star hotel hardly anybody to bother you. Dad was not a ritualistic either. We stayed at that place for a day and then proceeded to other areas. Laxman jhula was only a make shift bridge hardly significant to eyes. Mom told a little bit of the environment but Dad was always a silent and calm person to reckon with. I remember we visited the down stair waters too just to feel the space you can feel like. There was hardly any person to disturb about . Dad took us to the bhimgoda I feel if I am not failing at memory lane. Sometime I confuse it with bhimtal of nainetal but that is a separate place. It was a river and I could hardly cross it as water was coming to my nose itself. The scenario was too mystic as it could leave a searching engine in my software system. I remember Dad me and mom were standing along the river of some other name and waters were that speedy that there was no scope to interfere in its majestic might but the stream was profusely short in width. I could remember water was as fresh as say any filtered waters of the present day machine. Mom was telling a story line of that place but my brain is unable to recall those eventful days in complete some.
One day I noticed that I was going back to my school at mirzapur.
Love
I am painting a life of say 68-69 . I used to go to school not much earlier but in time most of the time as there was a prayer at the very inception stage and a teacher who was well versed in Hindi and Sanskrit used to say some words after every prayer. I will write a little later on in a more detailed manner. I used to wonder at a teacher whose name was sher singh, I believe he used to come to school from kalawali a nearby town and the rail time made him to reach probably at 7.30 AM or so. He used to sit in the lawn of the school and was often busy at some book and the like. He was an English teacher if I am not failing at my memory lane. English subject used to be a daunting task to speak like on the rustic background which I happened to be. Speaking English was as if doing some biggest possible wonder and a wishful thing only. I remember our Principal whose name could not make a place in my hard disc some time took a few classes as a special occasion to increase the result oriented value of the school. One fine day he gave us a task : write a story in English , class was 8th standard and topic was thirsty crow.
I remember I was having a small booklet in my hand strolling on the roof top of our dhobia wala mohala old house at sirsa. Next morning was the D hrs to speak like. I started my pencil but could not remember even a single bullshit word what I crammed whilst negotiating my steps and nerves put together at the roof top. Bhapi was a beautiful girl at that time but I do not remember I have ever fantasized her beauty . Some how I gathered my strength and could write a few lines only. The principal used to check the task immediately and evaluate too. I can remember he was saying its nice that you have done an original work but since its too short and skeptic you should do a little more.
I have never been a promising or bright student under any reckoning probably I told you. May be my brain was searching you to come.
Love
I am sketching a love of yours some where around Kanpur. I have taken many trains to go there and come back. Generally it was a summer season. But I remember I have been there during winter too. Train journey reminded me of anu and you as I knew kiran will definitely call me at her phone and your and anu nose will never look sane enough. Food was good in Train and I enjoyed it but magazines part I have hardly anything to read about. Hotel was probably of not your standard so my heart told me darling Deepika may not come with you at all, I used to go outside and have some tea and desi bread. It was good. I was thinking to take this desi bread called ban in colloquial language with you at Kanpur. Probably this will serve many purposes one is you will come to me another is peoples may learn how to dispose of the plastics and the wastage at that place I have heard a word in chaste punjabi dheedh but love people of kanpur I feel they are literally beyond that. I was in my middle school when mom used to get early as usual but making roti everyday was a big thing for mom too as school timing were too strict. Sometimes she tasked me to bring bread, I remember a sikh gentle man used to sell bread butter and such items whilst roaming in front of morning facilitated homes/houses so to speak like. I could not understand much at that time.
Now when I see kumar vihwas and kejriwal and team I have some how understood the efforts and patience that sikh gentleman was having. I do not know where is that person as there was no connection to me with that great boy with me at that time too. But love these some advocates who literally suck the blood of the peoples I dont understand how they digest so much blood and with no diseases at all and everyday a bloody seema gulati is born to increase her pond of the flesh.
Anyhow love I wanted to convey you are not behaving well.
Love
probably I wrote you in my love letters that I am not capable to paint what those colours are that can describe my Dad persona. Dad knew at his heart the fine nuances of ground realities and ephemeral quotient that has to be worked upon consistently to make a fit out of the misfit what we probably are made of. He never indulged in any non sense of visiting the peoples like now days people called as socialite behaviorism probably the shallowness of non sense was too crystal clear to him. He never asked me to be of any colour minded as he knew his version of life may not be complete as its a something ever changing scenario, I know Salman khan said in press that he has one problem why he is so wrong and why his father is so right any how its never late he can choose a path which he presumes to be the right one but love he probably does not know that Darwin laws are something which need a hell research to understand a bit and its not bloody kumar vishwas way of know how of Darwin that can work even to please the gullible masses as they happen to stand apart or say together or say shattered; Any how one day I was tasked upon by my own behavioral trait s to be a part of the marriage ceremony of my Dad brother in 1964 that was held in Fazilka of Punjab India, way back I was travelling in public transport so called bus and could not take ticket that was amounting to Rs.2/ as the crowd did not budge. I asked to myself let it be a while matter will cool down but by that time Dabwali but stand was already there and conductor deliberately took a smart chance where is my ticket I politely said to the major goel here is the money I could not take earlier. He gave me the ticket and said take the balance afterwords. I feel it was not Dabwali it was some earlier station/ stop may be malot etc at Dabwali I remember I was requesting the conductor kindly give my balance at a dhaba where they were eating free food served to them on regular basis but he did not oblige as I was a faultier in his eyes. I could remember what a bloody free change is worth of.
I was posted at CAO office from 91 to 98 and salary was paid in cash drawn from RBI by ourselves only. It resulted in making us conductors so to speak like but we could keep the money but could do that with the old notes and give the new ones in a little what you feel like you can come to my flat but you have not done so far. Generally there was sufficient supply whereby I could oblige the people with fresh notes and say some old notes taken from some other s . Fresh notes hardly serve any purpose but a bullshit psychological purpose what I feel like. But it leads to a pooling system whereby that bloody change is available with practically every one who so ever asks for.
I was a socialite from the very beginning. Probably contrary to my Dad version of life ( I do not mean that Dad was not socialite - his socialite version was profusely innovative sharp practical glamorous and fit to the precision ) and may be some salman khan grudge may be right as he happens to be a son and so called son has a bullshit right to kick a father as Darwin laws say so. Any how, I used to oblige rather I should say give some fresh notes of the denomination of Rs.10. say worth Rs. 1k to 2k some times even much more to 5k sometimes to 10k depending upon the supply side from RBI and the incidence of local demand that was within our reach of activity to my cousin as she happens to be a doctor by profession and change was a practical necessity to her.
One such fine day , I remember I was having a small gunny bag to be delivered to her and was waiting in the patient list / Que ( I am amending so that noses of those who are stopping you may it be your bullshit physiological system can be mended or say politely tasked upon to better mind their/its own bullshit business and learn to locate the spelling of aukat in some good punjabiat dictionary may it be written in any language ) so that I can go inside to hand over my version of socialite ism a salman khan happened to be there but that salman khan could never know that bloody his bloody khul ja sim sim speaks a language which no body really understands that what could be its real impact and the like.
and kejriwal say s bandeimatram
Love
I am sketching a life of 1958-59. Mom was a beauty to reckon with, my dad obsession of her beauty was derided by his peers and relatives particularly the bloody fazilka abohar bastards and all the cranks of sirsa too; she probably was not sophisticated like you to negotiate the fine nuances of life. Kiran was telling me a good story but I believe if Navita comes in this house whether married or unmarried or in any bloody live in relation ship s if a bastard or a bitch even ever dared to think against her I tell you I will throw that filth out of my balcony. Mom used to make good food but no body ever allowed a slightest praise of her s as it was construed as if the bloody hegemony of the cranks may not get swayed away. I remember mom asked me to carry some sweets -home made and a cottage candle plus some match box and some burnable materials including a cotton based litting material. We walked our way to the river basin which was in lean period. I remember I could touch the smart flowing water as if your lips.
I saw mom was praying to the almighty so that her fields can be spared of the onslaughts of floods which were expected very soon within a few days so to say.
Love
I was telling you of some hybrid concepts of say infinite in connotations , when I was enthusiastic to see how the work was going on to build earthen
dams on river gaghar. I remember the efforts but probably I could not notice the fine nuances how the life went by across that scenario. Dad never
accompanied me to any of the sites that was visible in a broad spectrum or say bird's eye view spreading across a say thousand of hectares put together. I remember work was almost complete on the wee sides whilst the opposite side could not be made in one go. Next season saw flooding every where except our village side. Next onset of work was a little more interest evoking as I wanted to know how they could do on the other side which could face another onslaught s of Nature bounty. The donkeys were again too systemic even in muddy soils I could see the narrow pathways that were strewn away with their continuous impact and load carrying exercise. The expanse was so diverse far flung that I needed very extra efforts to focus and see the beautiful scenario in active life. I only remember the donkeys.
Love
Sometimes I do ponder what could have been if you were not say what should I say loved me. Dad was extremely sound and touch or say vibration sensitive in his life time. He used to tighten up his village cot himself with a dexterous way of upkeep probably checking every week end whether the cots are properly stretched. I do not know if you have understood this simple English so I am explaining , the village cot in punjabi is called manji that has a last say a quarter or so portion where flax ropes are tied to the wooden frame the other areas are either of coconut coir base or some raw cotton based surface generally rough in texture but these cots are good in health point of view, in that you may not need a doctor if you use these cots. The secret behind is the natural flexibility no electric charge natural optimum thermal cushion or say heat and a natural messaging of your whole body parts or say a natural physiotherapy whilst you spend literally nothing except that you have to tie them quite often to keep an optimum tensile strength of the surface to speak like and keep them away from direct sun light and moisture as the natural fib re gets extra worked rendering it a little less worthy of keeping the requisite characteristic as mentioned ibid. Later on I could understand his natural way to cope with the evolving aspects of work and time schedule without any help of gadgets were the key factors for his extra receptors to get developed over a short period. Dad was using his cots as if for all routine purposes even he generally had his meals on these master craftsmanship and the meetings were generally held on these very furniture as the concept of murrah or chair was of a comparatively recent in nature. Later on he used some extra clothes to cover the striven areas to give it a little more sophisticated look.
I remember it was super air conditioned environment under all climates
Love
One day I was sitting with a functional joint director of DAVP its a publication cum advertisement cum mass media department under government of India. I realised our Indian press should learn from these chaps as they either put bloody hanuman ka chalisa or some other bullshit item on public utility bills or simply spoil it with other bloody Orissa mind set up and the like. I remember Dad had his first bike as some rajdoot , the points in Dad's consideration were its reliability and less prone to punctures. I remember Dad was not happy with too frequent punctures as his area of activity was studded with very strong spicules of acacia arabica. Love these natural kneels are so strong it literally go straight through the tires. Dad often asked me wear some good shoes or juti as chappal were not sufficient to keep away their sudden pick up. I did try one such juti - its a punjabi style shoe but not your way of things around, very strong rustic with very strong base and boundaries that drives away the penetrating part of the spicules. But these have a inbuilt flip flop of hurting your feet if not properly finished with say mustard oil. It has some stink too. I remember Dad was very happy when I wore this sort of shoes may be Dad saw in it a love towards me.
Love
when I was at my 2nd standard if I am not failing at my memory lane Dad told me world bank has approved the construction of earthen dams around the river gaghar starting from the main water releasing reservoir called Ottu to down streams in Rajasthan right into the interior of deserts. I remember donkey or say half mules or mules- only donkey yaar mules is a bloody hybrid or say gene tech it was not present at that eventful time- hybrid concept has come with the hybrid wheat varieties first under some pl 480 scheme and certain Japanese schemes in 60's - the conventional wisdom based hybrid is as old as the date line of human settlement in say groups ( I am feeling sleepy good night see you coming late evening as tomorrow I will be busy in my mundanes and going to gurgaon if possible some where near the point where you came but you probably could come out of your bullshit celebrity drama to meet me but your financial and directorial hierarchy could not cut their bloody noses ) I was talking of donkeys they were put to the challenging tasks in hundreds if not thousands on different stretches of construction. Even now a days the pattern is more or less similar in interiors of Rajasthan and Haryana where a rustic bracket / buggage is put on its backs to support heavy loads may it be sands or something that can be fit in the sockets. During those days the feeding was not that much ticklish job as the natural occurrence of bushes was well within the reach but now probably the man has become donkey but it does not bother to accept that kind of work may it be its brain power of non sense and the like. I could see herds of them carrying their loads of sand smartly going up the slops made by their masters to facilitate equal spread of the sands. So was their down the slops steps too systematic smooth fashioned rhythmic holistic sophisticated glamorous.
I do not find any such glamour any where my love.
I will continue.
Love
you might have noticed I have not been writing at such hrs for quite some time , you may presume either I have attuned myself to the reality factor or the pencil might have lost the hope of finding you in reality.
I was posted as AO in CAO office in 1993-94 and onwards. Shipra vashisht fiasco is written on this time line only. Today afternoon some officer was joking with me a stuff which I generally skirt but later on he pointed to a fact which I generally kick so to say like. I am skirting the point I know very well may be lombri kei khatei angoors etc etc. Any how , one day a person having a director tag some Mr Dubey came to me for regularisation of three service breaks which is a horrifying eventuality if you know a bit of government set up. I came to know it was done. Later on he rather increased his habit of sweeping the office floor with his body to pay homage to some satya sai baba I often politely told him of this non sense but I was informed that non sense rather get more magnified at your such magnanimous acts etc etc. One day a lady came and told me she is wife of this man and I could not stop my non sense habit of helping her got a check of 2.25 lakhs for his heart failure at Escorts I feel, he suffered another attack and was helped again in the same vain, the lady was quick to respond that she has not seen a government official so quick and so helpful in her life , she herself told me that she is also a hi fi officer in some government organisation only.
I have not met her after words nor shipra vashisht .
Love
I have cached your two snaps having profusely absolutely crystalline reflective exotic aura of thine zillions time away from the mad world of your work environment.
the first one proves that you are in a scenario where you can not go out of its magnetic cache, I feel I should not elaborate further as my friend krishan sukheja may envy your love to me. Any how , the later one is some thing which I generally call my Dad love. I do know my general manager in chief has a firm opinion that you will ruin me like I feel I should cut this line too.
Love
Whilst driving back to this place which you are looking at I need not write at all till you come to live with me, I was tossing the idea of what the bullshit logic s stand for as far as what should I write I am constrained not to write sciences say family in a narrow way of understanding. I have not seen love anywhere. but I paint love. May be I have written sciences even without acknowledging the fact. I remember when I reached my village area I did not go to the house but to Dad as he was supposed to be at his farm house only. His agriculture s activities were so diverse that it took a real good sense to trace him where he could be found. But I was happy with him only. I remember he hardly has had ever uttered a word of love so to speak like. But I really do not know why I have not seen love after his time.
Love
when I joined my middle school say in 1966 it was a scenario of say bullock cart got sent to study Ph.D. , having no say bulls to struggle it throw. I am skipping the school life that I will write later on, One day I took a local bus from a place where now a days a market stands tall to the new found world of its own meaning, it is probably still designated as old bus stand sirsa, it was not a modern bus in any way of standard. I believe it was a small truck
chess y turned into a bus. The journey was as if walking on a bicycle but this bicycle was too crowd y full of rustic bags and peoples some were sitting on the roof top and the ticket man was not sitting in the bus but resting on top of the roof. Passengers opted for sharp thumping of the walls and doors to stop the bus at their required destination. He used his whistle as if big bigul in his hand. Came down and took the money gave some exchange but process was as slow as no body really wanted to go to the place for which they were travelling. Say after 2.5 hrs on a 40 Km distance the bus stopped for its penultimate stop where I dropped down. I gave the ticket money and started asking how to negotiate further. I remember there were couple of peoples running small road side vacations to guide me how to proceed further. The roads were not visible. It looked as if its another scenario of p laughed up lands. After say half an hr of searching the direction I could land along the sides of an irrigation Nallah that took me to a huge mountain of sand it was the place where I could ask the name of my village as earlier I was asking for some another village as people did not know the name of my village and its directions. Now I felt as if home is feasible on the other side of horizon. After a walk of another half an hr total ling 2.5 hrs I was standing along the shores of river ghaghar. It was flowing too smart like your say right side flowing hair. I waited for quite a few minutes to plan how to cross the waters. Gathered strength, searched for a large twig , put off my all clothes and made a knot so as to fit it on the upper side of the left hand. I remember waters were too cool and sand was shifting under my feet. But it gave me a sense that home has come at last.
Love
I remember when I started playing it was some paper made boats if I am not hallucinated at my memory lane. I do not know who made us to make those boats . Rainy season was the first most eventful life you can say. Dad house being a kachha one, lot of streams were formed whereby lending a helping hand to us to be at our high spirits.
But boats were not user friendly to speak like so after some time we ran outside and sat on the sandy lawns exactly immediately after the main gate of the dad house. Sand used to be a magnetic disc of wishes as we built sand houses putting our feet inside and making huge and sketchup exteriors to our best nerves. When it was complete we used to shrink our feet slowly and slowly to put our sand house in shape. Then we made the boundary walls having a very large expanse that consisted of a replica of Dad house having some straws in the form of domestic cattle and the like.
I remember it used to be very late evening when mom called us for the food.
probably that is the reason I have become used to make sand houses on my web page . Just read it again and tell how you feel like after reading so much on sand dunes.
Love
I have received your computer generated love. I know this is no love in any way of the word but may be you have chosen so let it be so.
Love
at my univ days I encountered a person studying in M.sc pass course botany (its a one yr course only ) after normal (Pass course ) B.sc of two yrs I feel like, who was more inclined in electronic and prepared an electronic Bulgar alarm electronic spy camera , he was surrounded by too many girls wanted to have what not in modern sense of the word, he was saying he will go to USA for working at transmission of electricity through space project and the like. I do not know what happened with that guy afterwords. He was a day scholar i.e a hosteler but staying in hostel but in a private self acquired rented house etc, may be a rich person of some high official of the eventful days.
I know transmission of electricity is hi fi subject even today as only Israel USA France have this technology at their hands for Defense related projects only. It is something making a high wall of electric charge of very high voltage that can cover up to Io no sphere so as to burn the hostile incoming missile s say thousands a single shot or so. The energy is taken from sun and the like its a very complicated science with many complex issues to handle at as the wall can destroy the friendly objects too eg aircraft s etc etc.
his attraction syndrome to speak like were his English songs besides the ibid thoughts and capability ones. Girls in our univ were so opiate d to modern concept of the guy s that they simply flocked in bundles to catch the modern horse
that was the only reason Brig Giri Raj could not find his heart.
Love
I have received your personal number and saved it too. Probably I was thinking I will call you and spend my time in a little worth full way so to say. Then I thought the sciences of love are too much at your hand only. Let that day or say moment come when you will feel on your own to use such sciences. Any how , distances do matter I am aware of it. I will not write much today tomorrow is another working day and Delhi is literally paralyzed by psychiatric sick peoples not much in number hardly say 3 or 5 only. I was wondering they are using the techniques of some hitherto known cranks on Indian soil eg Arjun Singh, VP Singh Reddy and the like. but darling I tell you a horrible truth its the masses only who make graves for themselves no body else.
Love
One day it so happened I decided to go to village by train and via sirsa, I do not remember why I decided in this stupid way, probably I was having a zen that got crashed on NH 14 after Hissar and the accident was so horrific that even today I fail to understand why I survived that crash. May be, I have yet to write some more letters to you. I was standing at sirsa railway station at around say 10.30 PM , it was not a less pain full scenario , I will not write of that hidden things, I was locating the lost memories and how to negotiate the things in new found land. Sukheja contacted me and asked me to wait for his son who was coming on a bike. I was asking the waiting private veh how to reach sukheja place as I was probably not aware of any lane or by lane and I was practically brought up at sirsa only for say 4 yrs at a strech from 6th to 10 th standard and one yr at National college sirsa too. I will further not elaborate on such contradictory sentences. Any how, your this snap is again mine only.
Love
I don't think you could have ever visualized in you r life in any simplistic manner ever possible that a person of age 55 + having a bullshit clerkia job of say any bullshit amount which your sweeper can take having a pencil in hand will write on his pc such love letter s to you that may make your life rest of the time to come. I know your profession is yours only. I hardly see a bullshit movie , I remember ricky came to me after a gap of yrs together and he could only offer a movie in token of his love to me. Probably he does not know his father .
Any how your this snap is mine only. I have seen quite a number of your snaps but exactly speaking this one is literally something that I will tell you in person. I am not taking it to facebook.
Love
At my hostel , a life ridden with not less enigmatic moments all the time with me I was probably all the time fighting with hell what not. I may not refer to the fiasco even then it was a cauldron of uncertainty lit large every where. I have not told you exact connotations of that life, probably the reasons are hidden hard at my heart. I do not know how far you can understand my this English as I sometimes write in such frequency which is not simple to understand. I am not referring to sciences which I have written as I have at hand know how that for you its simply impossible to understand scientific literature of that sort. I know you have some different development cardinals so to say, One day , it was a time when suddenly I could notice that economic botany paper is only on next day, I knew nothing about this subject, I took a chock box opened my door on the terrace and started cramming and writing the hell vocabulary of this subject. I remember it was the most tough night with me
but love I have not seen a normal night ever since.
Love
I was at say 2nd yr of my hons school, Jaspal Singh Kalra I told you he used to give his notes to enable me perform at exams and the like, he is a very innocent face just like Sidhu of your work environment , one day Ms Cheema wife of our waden Mr Cheema a sikh gentleman to the truest sense of the word was going back to her house at lunch hrs. Jaspal ordered shoot/hoot.
any how I know money is such a subject no body can escape its infinite connotations as shakunis in this house played and were successful only because of this one factor only. Any how homo sapiens are no better to langoor s you can feel like.
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