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Love
mom told me probably her days were more normal and possessed ones than what the whole hell she happened to experience whilst observing my fiasco. One day wife of vinod kumar minhas persuaded vigorously the love queen of earth pushpa minhas that its your duty to fetch back RC Minhas as it makes no sense to punish him by all of you on bullshit damn stories concocted by your bloody girls and the like around you Pushpa Minhas the faithful mother of satya parkash minhas and kapal minhas who dare to click on my webpage so with out any bloody shame what so ever it may retorted teri khurkh itni hi hei to ja tu lei aa uus bhudhei harami ko.And one day ricky was detained inside an hapless room locked from outside and was refused to be given a human treatment for months together , he asked and cried for food and toilet and this haramzadi did not listen to his cries but threw away roti from the crevices on the floor.
Ricky is a faithful kid I hope he has some genes of his dadi and dada.
Love
mom felt its only a start of the struggle and requested her brother to put his stay for longer period as Dad was single handed and faced hostile environs practically at every corner of life. I was having a zen which got crashed then I felt my all of sudden decisions have made me cash less and even small amount of money may help me at this juncture. Sukheja advised better sell it in scrap. I knew sukheja and scrap too. I remember I was busy at signature at a form purchased from a local vendor at sirsa old bus stand. I stayed for some more hrs and took my bus back to Delhi. I do not remember where was kiran and anu at that eventful time.
Love
mom faced a complex scenario probably I have yet to know how she was able to handle all this in one go over the life. Dad was having a huge number of peoples to look after and those who were supposed to help him were too short of age or simple duffers so to say like. Harichand was the only person Dad could locate a friend to reckon with and over the time when my pencil shall write love to you it may be a matter of exotic nerves to decipher at. Dad started his work at a plot of say 10 acre at first. It was around the well or say at one side of this plot well was located. Mom put her best to increase her income. Harichand helped her to locate more work and distribute the produce over a distance which was simply beyond any means of navigation so to speak like as about two meters of sands every where made it literally impossible to travel. Dad could remove the herbaceous xeric plants with his strength nerves experience with a span of seven days working till such time light was available on the horizon. Harichand helped him to use his un defined nerves not to remove the sturdy plants but cut it in a way to make the land ready for immediate sowing.
Dad was able to sow his first lands with wheat and brassica campestris . Mom told me she was at her real honey moon days when she was able to cut the sag and forage to sell to the local people > that was the black horse my dad I told you earlier. But harichand is the person whom I feel credit goes.
Love
I will be continuing in a little different fashion now. I know you are more intelligent to me in billions ways so you are probably more possessed to me. Mom got married to Dad not in western part of punjab of british era but only some where in Ludhiana. Dad was of 16 yrs age and mom 12 but since no body was having money at that time it was organised or say solemnized like what should I say you hardly know how to knock at my door and come inside whilst hell non sense does appear too often. The scene of village looked like as some wooded fences are there with a shoddy enclosures so to say like. You can feel like a huge sand dune having a diameteric distance of say visible range on west side whilst rest of the visible range could hardly say anything but for xeric plants some ones were van tree ( now extinct except somewhere specially looked after eg at a place where anu was with me at kutub ki lat in Delhi.)
Love
I am sketching my love to you on the backdrop of what mom told me of her days. I am referring to a period say 1948-1952. Dad was a black horse under all reckoning. I will be skipping too much of her version that I will tell at a later date. Mom started living with Dad at village when there was no house as such. A dilapidated kacha house was used as her honeymoon palace. Dad did not have any money as he was yet to have some work worth the name. Mom fetched with her a stitching machine of some british era time make. Dad was simply tossing the idea how to start his farming as there was no land worth for this purpose only jungle land was there. Mom started taking the work from her peer groups. It was hardly sufficient for their meals so to say like. There was an old dilapidated well on one side of the land scape. ( I will continue.) love today starting from the morning hr till this time hell non sense have been there but love mom never thought of a bloody concept of woman of substance. (I will continue) I was talking of a well. The well was abonded owing to weeds and slipping of sands making a just a fossil of a well so to say. The path to village well got obliterated with infestation of snakes and other such creeping animals so villagers hardly a couple of people started fetching water from river gaghar basin at a distance of say 15 km or so. Dad was having his experience of panchayat from his dad at hitherto western parts of punjab of british era. He did not have the official symbol by that time. Somehow his nerves worked and people got to know the wisdom of collective sense to speak like but gurudwara has no place in this venture. It took about 10 days for all to restore the well with his efforts derived from his ancestral experience and the like. Well was ready for domestic usu age. Dad knew that his job was not simple and he would not succeed at certain points. He went to his brother in law using the means of that period. Harichand was his name. A person of un defined nerves at mechanical work of wood work and metal together. Harichand helped the local carpenter and devised himself the shaft the pulley the buckets the pulling mechanism and the like. I remember it took them one month with a promised barter system and the well was ready for agriculture lifting of water. The later story I will write on your some different snap.
Love
I am painting my love to you on the backdrop of my dad love to my mom. I have literally traced that area where Dad used to ferry mom to village on too many occasions. Road s are a very recent phenomenon. Probably it was 1962 summer. Dad asked his contacts at the village to prepare sweets and say namkeen of those days. Village used to be self reliant for practically every purpose. I hardly remember a moment when any body felt that there is a difference between glamour quotient of my village and any city life of that period. Cloths were partially pooled from cottage outlets at village and from urban locations from far flung areas like abhohar ganganagar ludhiana and the like. Transport was tractor trolley and bullock cart. electricity was kerosene lamps of different shapes and say qualities too. Raw material say sugars tea dals condiments were again pooled in a mixture set up of working. Dad used to fetch in bulk as it was easy for him to feed very large number of people who used to be sharing life with him in different manners roles connotations.
I remember by 10 AM a huge gathering of gusts were fetched on the tractor trolley. the sweets and salty mixtures and tea were being served
Mom was weeping whilst serving such a huge quantum of eatables stored in village made plant-fibre containers of different shapes. I could not get what made her weep. She somehow was normal after a few minutes so to say.
Later on she told me she wanted to organise the function at sirsa as it happened to be a city.
Love
I am sketching my love to you against the backdrop of say 1960. Peer groups was a very strong concept at village level. I dont think you have affectionate people in your environments. There was hardly any money factor to allure to some dice so to say. There was a gurudwara grounds just flanking my dad house. I remember every evening used to be full of songs and games. I have never heard any bullshit eve teasing and the like. chaste punjabi tappe were sung and it adored and resonated the environments like Pakiza movie songs thronged the hearts of the people in later years. ( I will continue.) there was no theater no screen no dais no stadium no milkha singh no saroj khan no kapil dev no light arrangements no camera no director no script and no motto even except the aura of Nature lit large sometimes adoring the cloths say chandi ki rat and usually naked the pitch dark but no khushwant could ever take roots. ( I will continue.) During the day s of lori rich customs like dula bhati wala were performed where by a few groups were organised and commune sharing of eatable were offered. Girls were decorated at other occasions and sweets offered as a token of placating the Nature. Gurudwara played a hub of activity bereft of any dogmas attached. Every morning and evening for about 2 hrs with flexi time of attendance and flexi concept of age sex or say bereft of any divisions were earmarked as a traditional bhakti songs generally making guru granthsahib as a focus of devotion but with no tags inbuilt. Both the times volunteers arranged for sweets as token of self respect to the commune system of village life but with bloody communist tag.
Gurudwara grounds were utilized for settling the disputes whether personal family related matrimonial or say any such matters where wisdom of the seniors was respected and accepted without any expenditure involved in any manner what so ever it may in the modern way of understanding the finance property worth and the like.
Its not that delinquency is some imported word. I remember Dad had an adage which he used only sparingly : jaat di kor kili tei chateera nu jafe.
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