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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.
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