Gentle Doctor Narang

March 26, 2016

No Rahul Gandhi,

No Kejriwal,

No Brinda Karat,

No Barkha Dutt,

Will visit him.


No secularist,

No communist,

No human right-ists,

No Islamist,

Will visit him.


No one crore,

No four plots,

No job to kin,

No soothing balm,

Will be given to him.


All the absurd theatre,

Of secularism, of multiculturalism,

Of tolerance-in-tolerance,

Of award wapsi, human rights,

Will not run their shows.


Why ????


He was no Akhlaq,

He was no Rohit,

He was no Kanhiyya,

He was no disruption-ist,

He was no vote bank.


He was a gentle Hindu doctor,

Playing cricket with his son,

Celebrating Indian victory,

Serving humanity,

Slayed was Doctor Pankaj Narang.




1-Doctor Pankaj Narang-was a doctor, murdered in New Delhi- India, by unauthorized

slum dweller patronized by politicians as a vote bank.

2- Akhlaq-was a resident of Dadri, UP, India killed in local feud but his family got very

fat relief package after his death.

3-Rohit-a student of HCU, Hyderabd, India, committed suicide. Secular and communist

politicians made a big issue of his death.

4- Kanhiyya Kumar-President of JNUSU New-Delhi, India recently is a controversy for

raising ant national slogans.




March 23, 2016

Souls of Lance Naik Hanamanthappa

And Lance Naik Hemraj

Lamenting and shedding tears,

Why we died? Why we died?


They wake up in the midnight,

Their voices can be heard from distance,

Just hear them. Just hear them.

Their voices can be heard at LOC and Siachen.


They heard the slogans of JNU,

A paradise for communist propagators

And lovers of Afzals and Maqbools,

But hardly thinking their own nation.


Hug and kiss are their cherished syllabus,

Beef and mutton parties in the dorms,

Burning of the Manusmriti, slur to Goddess Durga

Are their cultural fests.


Foreign repressor Lenin, Mao and Marx,

Are their Gods,

And worship Mahishasur with pride,

But no love for nation and martyrs.


In hostels and chambers,

Gather for fake revolutions,

On subsidized education and rooms,

But nation love this subsidized heaven.


Enjoying quotas and cashing backwardness,

Weaved a circle round so strong,

And close the eyes to enjoy backwardness,

For honey-milk are they fed.


Freedom to roam with secular butterflies,

Those sleep among the revolutionaries,

Souls of martyrs in their combat dress,

Seeking freedom to gun rogues in mortal dress,




1- J.N.U.: is a very famous University in India. Full name Jawahar Lal     University, situated in New Delhi, India.


2- JNU has been in news for wrong reasons, (a) for anti-national slogans. (b)

hailing terrorists like Afzal Guru and Maqbool Butt etc..(c) for insulting Hindu

Goddess Durga and celebrating the birthday of demon Mahishasur. (d) for

organizing  hug and kiss fests. (e) for burning the Manusmriti. (f) distributing

sweets on the massacre of soldiers.


3- Lance Naik Hanamanthappa ; is a soldier on Indian Army who died in a snow

avalanche at Siachen, defending Indian posts.


4- Lance Naik Hemraj ; Another Indian soldier who was kidnapped by Pakistanis

and he was very brutally murdered and his head was cut by them.


5- Afzal Guru and Maqbool Butt: Both terrorists and given capital punishments.



Lost in the Light

December 31, 2015

Maya crossed the gates of the highest court of India that is the Supreme Court of India with the final order of the judge, ending her four decade old marriage with Aditya, means divorce. She had tears in her eyes and a dirty jhola on her shoulder, loaded with old dirty files related with the case.


She said she would fight the case herself. Her lawyer had cut out his work for her for a hefty fee. Today she got the much sought after divorce but she was feeling cheated and broken. Other clients were also coming with their lawyers. And then, thought Maya, what a day-‘sad and cursed,’ as if she was standing near some freshly lit pyre.


What a dark day! What a break up! She could not stop her tears. Now officially she was alone, again a single, free woman. How aged, stiller, the air was in the late winter evening, like the panic of a wave due to foam of dirt, kiss of smog. Chilled and bitter yet grave, standing there under the polluted sky, that something appalling, just happened, looking at the red bricks and wall with the smoke engulfing them and dirty DTC buses honking, rogue motorists driving and gazing until a hand on her shoulder broke her stream of thought.


He was Aditya, my husband for forty five years. He hugged me very warmly, praised me and my sari, and looked pointedly towards the road.

I asked, “Can’t I call a taxi from here?”

He said, “My driver there will do it. There won’t be any problem. Try to forgive me, if I have ever hurt you or caused any pain to you and forget me. Take Care.”


I thanked him.


He looked at me, with tears in his eyes and vanished in the crowd of litigants.


I still remember my last unfortunate day when I had a heated argument with Aditya before I decided to file an application for divorce. I discussed with Sanjay, my husband best friend, the flirting of my husband with another lady.


She still remembers the day when she was informed by her maid Kiran about a woman visitor.

‘God, the front-door bell rang’ Maya listened.

I want to see Mr. Aditya, said the young charming woman in her mid twenties. ‘Oh yes, he will see me.’ She repeated, putting me aside very gently, and almost rushing so quickly. Yes, yes, yes’, she muttered as she ran upstairs. ‘He will see me. After six years in America, Aditya will see me.’


Maya heard a bang upon the door. Aditya rushed to receive her. She tried to hide her blushed face, like a virgin protecting her chastity.

“But who am I?” I wondered. My brain was flooded with number of questions about her relationships with Aditya. Was she only an ordinary friend or more than that? There was no body in the room, except Aditya and his friend. Their behavior added to my discomfort as my questions were to remain unanswered. I felt claustrophobic in the room and rushed out in panic to breathe a whiff of free and fresh air.


Faraha works in America. She is six inches longer than me and almost five years older to me. But she looks five years younger to me. I think, she is much more pleasant woman to talk to, I have ever met. She is extremely soft and sweet spoken, always has a charming and attractive smile on her face. In short, she is one of the very few women, whom I actually find beautiful and charming.


What the hell is going on between my husband and that bitch?’ Maya’s patience was at its lowest ebb and she was ready to burst.

Sanjay knew that she was serious. ‘Look, Maya. There is nothing going on between the two of them. Just a little bit of healthy flirting, I’d say.’

‘Flirting? Healthy flirting? Really Sanjay . . .’ she rolled her eyes in disgust. ‘That’s what you men call it? There is nothing healthy about flirting, Sanjay, not for a married man.

Healthy flirting is a term introduced by perverted men who want to lend legitimacy to their extramarital dalliances. Flirting invariably has a sexual connotation to it.’ She got up from her seat and walked around the room gesticulating and muttering something to herself. Suddenly she stopped, turned back, looked at Sanjay and asked, ‘Did my husband sleep with her? You are his friend. Did he ever tell you anything about it?’


Sanjay preferred to remain silent.


Straightway, she rushed to the office of an NGO; she knew that claimed to be working for the right and safety of distressed women.


The NGO, Director was in his mid thirties, bearded but young and energetic. He was wearing a long kurta and blue lagoon jeans. He was very soft spoken. I told him my entire story.

Listening my story, he took me in his car ‘Ford Icon,’ to the nearby police station. We lodged a police complaint.


The inspector charged Aditya under a number of sections of which I have no idea. He took my sign on that complaint written by the NGO director. Inspector left the office with his men.

We both remained seated in the police station.


The director looked around and could not see anybody. He put an arm around me and hugged me and consoled me.


I was deeply impressed by his behavior and helping attitude.


The inspector returned after half an hour. He arrested Aditya under domestic violence act and dowry act. I was feeling very happy, victorious and relieved. Aditya was sent to jail but I knew it was all frame up.


Director and I left the police station. He dropped me at my residence. I took him inside and prepare coffee for him. During coffee we discussed about the future plan to fight the case. The director was very kind and generous to me. He offered a job to me in his NGO office and very happily I accepted that offer.


I was on the cloud nine with all this success. My eyes felt very heavy but very happy. He came close to me, held my chin up and said, “ Listen carefully. I am always there for you now, never feel hesitant for any help and work. Your mind will be troubled and you so far ignored your happiness which censured you. That was something nasty. I feel for your pain”


I was mesmerized. He told me that he was a bachelor.


Outside there was lightening, thunderbolt and very heavy rain. He could not step out of the flat. I prepared the dinner for us. At around ten it was still raining.


Ultimately we decided that the director sir will stay in my flat although I felt a little uncomfortable. But there was no other way-out.


We continued talking up to almost midnight.


I was feeling very uncomfortable. Suddenly he got up from his bed and held my hand. I could not sense the fear running my body. I was very nervous, extremely nervous.


He asked me, “Are you alright?”


“Yes. Of course I’m,” I said.


He said, “Why are feeling nervous then?’


He put his arm around my waist as a sigh of affection and concern. I did not resist.


“O god, there is nothing like that, I am fine,” I said.


“Please continue,” your stress will be lessened, he asked me.


I took a deep breath but could not speak.


He hugged me and kissed me. He switched off the light. We both slept together. In the dark his gentle hands searched my entire body. I enjoyed this new beginning. Now this was almost a daily routine. We never slept alone.


From next day onward, I started going to his NGO’s office. There I saw an altogether different society.


“Women, I never knew about them, but saw first time,…many women working there, women wear micro minis and with heavy makeup and always live in the company of a man and made as if they love each other , but only for money and sex and …offer them…every-thing…money …..bodies…And use each other…and stuff with them….to satisfy their own urges.…sex…money…activism…and ultimately awards and positions…Some used to come every day only to be used for paid and fixed dharnas, gheraos and demonstrations….all for money”


Now I was a part of this dark world. But now I was lost and trapped completely but there is no escape.


Sex and money have engulfed every part of their world. Once finished with DU or JNU, through artificial relationships, care free parents and relatives, than nothing is left drugs, sex, fake activism, NGOs but dark alleys.


Now my case was also going on in courts. Dates, adjournments, lawyers on strike, vacations, judge on leave or sick, etc., etc., all this became a part of my life. Now I started to see this new and ugly world for a ‘dumped’ woman.  World and guys is freak.  Director, lawyer and I talk a lot about my case, my future. But all loud talk, no escape. They all wanted money or sex. I had gotten used to the snobbery and drubbing and vice versa. It became realism that in that world, nobody cares about anybody.


Now I was shattered. It was my fault to destroy my happy home for a non-issue. Wasn’t it? I was blinded by light and thunder of fake and false modern, new world. Now I couldn’t cry even. Nobody loves me nor I. Here I was realized that I had lost everything and was crushed by my protectors. We did smile and laugh. But to my euphoria the smile didn’t encourage my crushed movements that would have converted my disabilities into joy.


Always I tried to be a little closer to my lawyer, understand his tricks and moves and catch glimpses of his hidden jibes beneath his face as I kept craning my neck from one side to another with every beat of files and law books. When the saying and shaking of head and eyes became tired I had to pay his fat fee. At times I had no fee then we flopped down on the couches. He wants money or me.


And ultimately I became victorious but lost everything and of course Aditya forever.


Now I will never get back Aditya. He will never be mine again. But the beautiful moments, the delightful time that we spent together, will always be mine. And it will always give me pleasure. And joy. I may not have in him in my life in reality, but he will always have in my dreams. Not even God can take him away from me. Only he was capable to make me lose my memory by his love and care. But he will always be in my mind, in my heart, just like Jack always stayed in the mind of Rose in Titanic.


“Many budding and aspiring actors leave their native places to pursue the American Dream in Hollywood, only to return and little did they know that Los Angles is not all about Hollywood but also about millions of slum-dogs who never became milliners.”


Broken and shattered I packed all my belongings. I decided to leave this city. It does not have anything more to offer me. Not in life, nor in love. I am moving to Vrindavan which has been given shelter to those who have no one in the world. Today once again, I am standing on another gateway, which will take me to a new world and new people. A new beginning will be there again. And I am all set to start everything, all over again. Vrindavan is the town where Lord Krishna spent his childhood days.

Like thousands of widows, orphaned women, etc., who have been making to this town their home till their end, where once Lord Krishna played with his gopis and gwalas. Left by their families, all alone in the world, some travel hundreds and thousands of kilometers to get some space and some peace in this holy and divine land but no-body knows why?

‘Tomorrow I will be one among the lost thousands.’

‘Problems of West, find solutions in east.’


From Kashmiri Gate, I boarded a bus going to Mathura.


The engine of the bus roared. I saw outside the bus- The heartless city of Delhi, which robbed me of everything. Now I hate this city.


The bus began to move; leaving small clouds behind. And slowly and slowly and slowly Delhi vanished out of my sight.


The bus reached Mathura at around seven p.m.. City was abuzz with temple bells and evening prayers. All the roads and streets were echoing with the hymns and shlokas of the Srimad Bhagwadgita and Lord Krishna.


I was very much confused and afraid of my loneliness. I was tired of travelling. I could not decide where to go. At times I was feeling to commit suicide. But ultimately I decided to go ISCON temple. It is a very beautiful temple and very lovely structure. I was mesmerized by the spiritual environment of the temple. There I felt a unique peace of mind.


I moved towards the manager’s office. There I enquired about the system and rules to get a room allotted on the permanent basis. When I was busy talking with the manager, a gentle but firm hand touched my shoulder. Taken aback I turned back. It was Aditya.


He asked the manager to allot a room. In the entry register, he filled the first name as Aditya Sharma and second as Maya Sharma (Wife). I did not question. The manager gave the keys of the room. Aditya took my luggage too. I followed Aditya like an obedient child. He opened the door. He unloaded himself and sat on a chair. I sat on the bed. We were silent but our teary eyes were talking about the lost four decades.


He muttered,  “Don’t live in an American Dream My Dear! Life is not as rosy as you suppose to be. ..”


Aditya muttered the lines of famous poet T.S.Eliot


“Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata.

Om  Shantih     shantih     shantih.”


“He who works, having giving up attachment, resigning his actions to God, is not touched by sin,  even as a lotus leaf (is untouched) by water.”

The Bhagavadgita, ‘True Renunciation’, Ch.V, Sl.10.





Creation of a New Character

December 31, 2015

One may be the bravest soldier in ones regiment, received compliments  from officers and peers, and received the best comments for the bravery, but if such a soldier fail to convey his bravery in the bravest manner like killing a terrorists in an encounter, even the  bravery of such a brave soldier will pass unnoticed and unrewarded.

Same applies to literary, historical and professional deliberations and presentations. Clear show and honest presentation must be there by the soldier in a professional and brave manner in the records of the regiment, and the sooner the soldier achieves this formula, the better it is for his regimental growth on the professional front.

Translators are not the language-mechanics but they are the gate-keepers of aesthetics, they are not the looters of originality but they are the baskets of human emotions being transferred from one basin to another river-bed.

(Subodh Sarkar, ‘EDITOR’s NOTE’, Translations and the New Mandarins’, Indian Literature, Sahitya Akademi, New-Delhi, No. 263, May/June 2011, vol LV No.3, p-7)

Communication skills and language are very important in professional career and work place dynamics and growth and these qualities, skills and command can make a new character or expert, in the same manner skills and expertise in translation, script writing and history writing can make a new character, can give new interpretation to any book and kill the original character or interpretation.

For example in 1960 a famous movie Mughal-e-Azam, was produced by Shapoorji Pallonji and directed by K. Asif.  After this movie so many new interpretations came about Emperor Akbar and his life. Noted eminent, secular, communists and Muslim scholars created all together a new Emperor Akbar. A ruthless, brutal and fanatically anti-Hindu Emperor Akbar was replaced by kind, secular, romantic and humanist Emperor Akbar. Not only was this, a new romantic but imagery Queen Jodha Bai also created to show Emperor Akbar as a secular king to show Hindu-Muslim unity and prove the superiority of Muslims over Hindus.

Similarly in 1963 a very famous film Taj Mahal was made and written by A.K.Nadiadwala and directed by M.Sadiq, based on the historical legend of love of the Mugal Emperor Shah Jahan. As per the legend Shah Jahan built the Taj Mahal in fond memory for his beloved seventh wife Mumtaz Mahal. But in this blockbuster creation a new Shah Jahan was created and real brutal, womanizer anti-Hindu Shah Jahan went into oblivion.

In the present scenario, literature as well as film presents a distorted image of reality, for both these media of expression tend to glamorize violence and sex to become more saleable and popular.

(Sumitra Kukreti, GLORIFICATION OF CRIME IN LITERATURE AND FILM: THE GODFATHER VS INDIA’S BANDIT QUEEN’, Film and Literature, Ed. K.K.Sharma, K.K.Publications, New-Delhi, 1997, P-127.)

To avoid such controversies and distortions, some unchangeable characteristics, based on realities should be given to the script writers and directors before-hand before making of any such historical movie, so that coming generations must get true picture about the history. The concerned must ponder over the subject before initiating such important projects. This will be of great help to convey the history correctly.

They are actually launderers of ideas and history. Recently in a very scintillating speech famous MP, Meenakshi Lekhi branded such writers as ‘Intellectual mercenaries’.’  Such faulty creations only add to confusion and controversies. The writers and translators must keep in mind that it certainly goes a long way to have efficient and effective, but honest communication with the audience and readers. The coming generations of readers and viewers monitor the effect of the performance or the text and significantly contribute about the factual presentation of any historically important character.

This is the age of social networking sites. One cannot hide the reality, about any character or text from the readers for a long time. As in the case of eminent secular historians, now nobody believes their versions. They are subject of mockery.  This is worst type of anti-intellectualism or as famous Victorian poet Matthew Arnold wrote in Culture And Anarchy as ‘Philistine’.

One must make a list of important events before taking them up as projects. It is a very important quality to depict the things honestly. It is very good to show some extra merit in the script or in the book but blatantly ignoring the historical facts may not go down well with the audience or the readers. It is understandable that now a day everyone tends to be a bit more informed when dealing with such creations. But one must be honest in one’s professional life.

Same confusion and controversies were created when the secular and communists groups tried to celebrate the birth anniversary of Tipu Sultan. For Hindus and nationalists, Tipu Sultan was an anti-Hindu fanatic ruler who was responsible for slaughtering thousands of Hindus and razing Hindu temples. But in the famous television serial ‘The Sword of Tipu Sultan,’ written by Bhagwan Gidwani, Tipu Sultan was shown as a secular ruler, who fought against British rule in India. Secularists and communist describe Tipu Sultan, as first freedom fighter, died for the independence of India. He was renamed as ‘Tiger of Mysore’ by them.

Powerful presentation is an asset but one being tactful and honest while ensuring that that you do not twist the history for somebody’s vested interests. Owing to stressful environments at work, it is important that the writer must say the right thing at the right time. Doing so avoids future confusion and controversies and establishes the associations, demonstrates thoughtfulness and credibility. In case one is forced to write things which are not based on facts, the best way to tackle that pressure is to ignore such needs and refuse to get involved in such projects.

The Manusmrti (Sanskrit:  मनुस्मृति), also met the same fate. Manusmrti is the most important, most reputed and most studied legal text among the many Dharmaśāstras  of Hindus and Hinduism. Seeing the death and importance of the Sanskrit text it was the first Sanskrit text translated during the British rule, by Sir William Jones, in 1794.  Manusmriti is also called the Mānava-Dharmaśāstra or Law of Manu. But after translation Manusmriti was badly criticized by secularists and caste-ists although it is a different matter that most of the critics of Manusmriti do not know even the A-B-C of Sanskrit. Now Manusmriti is a highly abused and criticized text.

There is no denying the fact that the enduring value of literature lies in its universality of appeal. Every reader of a literary masterpiece brings to it a richness of interpretations which springs of the quality of his own sensibility. The work acquires value to him for its lights up the dark corridors of his soul and gives him a chance to air his views on the meaning of life and destiny. But Narasimhaih also points to a danger inherent in such an approach. Critics may adopt a “fragmentary” approach and see a work of art only as a wish-fulfillment of their own frustrated dreams and desires.


One must have gleaming ideas but nobody is allowed to distort the facts or history. Such gimmicks cannot work for a long time. One is bound to be exposed. Honest and effective presentation is the key of building trust, reputation and healthy environment.

In this category of creation on new characters, name of Bhim Rao Ambedkar is most apt. Ambedkar never was a victim of caste discrimination. He had his schooling at the Army school, run by British government. Later on he shifted to Elphinstone College. Gayakwad ruler of Baroda, Sahyaji Rao-III, financed his higher education. He also had his education in America. After coming back from the US, Ambedkar was appointed secretary to the King of Baroda. Bombay Governor Lord Sydenham helped Ambedkar to obtain the job as a professor of political science at the Sydenham College of Commerce and Economics in Bombay. So Ambedkar had a very comfortable life.

Though this simplistic position on biography and autobiography was shared by theorists of the two genres in the past, in the context of the kind of debates that contemporary theory has witnessed on such question as the discursive distinction between fact and fiction, the constitution of subjectivity in auto/biography, the truth status of the claims made by the auto/biographer and the overall generic specificity of auto/biography, one might find it difficult to accept the position that the self in the past is an uncontested subject. This is not a purely theoretical debate. Sometimes people, including writers, can feel deeply mortified by the images that fellow writers create in the name of auto/biography.

(‘Translation as Hoax: Art, Othering and life Writing’, P.P. Raveendran, Indian Literature, Sahitya Akademi, New-Delhi, 237, Jan-Feb 2007, Vol. LI, No.1, Pp191-92. )

Due to the vote bank politics in India, secular leaders and caste leaders found Ambedkar as the most powerful mascot to get the votes of Dalits. They changed everything related with the life of Ambedkar. He was re-canonized as a poor, oppressed and struggling Dalit icon replacing all the real facts about his life. Reality was that Ambedkar was the son of a British army officer. Ambedkar’s ancestors had for long been in the employment of the army of the British East India Company. His economical condition was quite good and he was very well cared by a Brahmin teacher during his schooling and higher education was looked after by King of Baroda, the Gaekwads. In his political career, he was very well supported by Britishers and heavy weights of Congress.

The question that remains to be answered is,’ Should literature or a work of art be censored?’ The answer is ‘Yes’. Despite our right of the freedom of speech and expression, certain control is necessary. This freedom can be abused very easily. This concept of freedom combines the ideals of right and duty.



  • Film and Literature, Ed. K.K.Sharma, K.K.Publications, New-Delhi, 1997.
  • Indian Literature, Sahitya Akademi, New-Delhi, 237, Jan-Feb 2007, Vol. LI, No.1, Pp191-92.
  • Indian Literature, Sahitya Akademi, New-Delhi, No. 263, May/June 2011, vol LV No.3.




Jallikattu and Cultural Tradition

December 30, 2015

Hats off to the Center Government! The Center Government has taken a very bold decision in allowing the popular bull taming festival ‘Jalikattu’ in Tamilnadu. Jallikattu (bull fight), is a bull taming sport conducted during the popular Pongal festival in Tamil Nadu. But animal right activists claim it highly barbaric to subject animals to cruelty in the name of tradition and religion.

As expected, the decision is welcomed by all and the organizers of Jallikattu, bull owners and tamers and the people of Alanganallur in Madurai, where the sport is held with great fanfare, attracting large number of tourists.

It is a great irony that the main opposition party, DMK and its leaders always trumpets as progressive people and always targets Hindus for its orthodoxy and backwardness.

Animal races are very popular in the country. Apart from Tamilnadu, Maharshtra, Punjab, UP etc., states, in rural areas such sports are very popular and part of cultural of these states. Such animal games are almost part of rural culture.

It is a well known fact that Jallikattu, also known as ‘Eruthazhuvuthal’ in Tamilnadu, played on Pongal, bullock cart race in Maharashtra, Kambla in Karnatka bullocks’ race in Punjab etc., have been traditionally and culturally very popular practice. All must respect these traditions and cultures.

The modern-day Jallikattu is a very difficult and risky game, in which large number of men chases a bull and controls it at the same time. Now it is finally a commercial activity in which bulls are subjected to run as fast as possible. In the ancient time, one youth would fight and tame a wild and ferocious bull to exhibit his bravery and manliness. Now a violent mob chases a bull.

It is the tendency of secular groups and animal right groups and its leaders to adopt sectarian and divisive methods to consolidate their vote bank. All the Tamil Nadu based political parties are caste and creed based. So they target the game.

The argument that the sport is a part of Tamil culture and tradition is very true. The cruelty to animals cannot be accepted. Similarly the brave sport argument too is also tenable.

It is also a fact that every year some young men are killed and many injured during bull fight. In ancient time it was a simple rural sport but now it has become a torturous and risky entertainment for the people. Now to charge a bull, people intoxicate the bull and throw red chilly powder in its eyes and then it is charged into crowd to make it more aggressive and violent. In this melee, a few participations and viewers are injures and killed.

Bull is the friends of farmers and people. So they should be treated with love and care on Mattu Pongal. They should be well fed and worshipped and not tortured or killed. It is a Hindu tradition to worshipped bulls. All right thinking people must be very happy at this decesion.

The political parties and animal right activists should ask to ban animal slaughtering to which animals are either tortured or killed to appease God. One such festival is Eid of Muslims on which corers of animals are slaughtered every year to appease God. They should see to it that slaughtering of animals is banned on Eid also. But unfortunately till date no animal lover has raised voice against this cruel practice. Not only this our constitutional heads and political leaders extend their greeting to Muslim on Eid on which large numbers of animals are slaughtered in a very brutal manner.

It is clear that in India such moral values are only for Hindus. Nobody can dare to ban the animal slaughtering on Eid. Although any type of cruelty against animals is a crime under our constitution. But Indian model of secularism has made Islam above the constitution.

Similarly lakhs of animals are slaughtered illegally everyday throughout the nation and our government is the mute spectator to all these brutal killing of animals. If killing of animals is not prevented, animals in this will be an endangered species in our country.

Now animal right activists have got banned shows in circus. Even jugglers cannot keep animals like monkeys, bear and even snakes. As a result of this lakhs of people lost their livelihood.

Since the late-1990s, animal rights fighters have succeeded in banning the long-established arts in India that expertise in training animals for shows as a means of living. There was a time when snake charmers and Baazigars would be sent to international fairs as emissaries of India’s conventional art forms.

But when the Wildlife Protection Act of 1972 was extended to these communities, they became criminals and law breakers. With one blow of the pen, their centuries-old art forms came to be treated as unlawful activity, without even bother to offer them any alternative means of employment for survival.

We must be kind to the animals but we must respect ones culture, tradition and livelihood. If we want to protect animals we must ban slaughtering but not the cultural games.










December 29, 2015

Waiting for the time when you would

Surrender you in my thirst arms,

Entangled in my twisted legs and eager lips;

Even in the sizzling heat or freezing cold,

Or in the floods of Brahmaputra.


Trying to stop fast running time,

When lying together on couch,

Never know how hours pass,

Shadows increasing and birds retreating,

But no stoppage of our flow of pleasures.


Puffing, sweating and lost;

Yearning, time to stop;

Tasting up to brim-Eden’s fruit of love;

Unaware of any fear and hesitation; ’

Lost and drowned in each other.


Thousands of days will come,

Millions of tomorrows will be there,

But there is only one today with her,

Smile and happiness missed today,

Will never be there again.


Ah! My beloved, breathing stopped;

Looking at each other, with messy

Hair, blushing face, crouched body;

Confused, perplexed but with

Delight and unexplainable joy.


Complete naked, all pleasures are with us

As souls are naked, bodies must be,

The taste the divine juice, which humans have,

Here is no apology but all innocence,

No need we have to cover like man of lust.


I am not a Poet

December 21, 2015

I am not a real poet,

I did not get any award nor pension;
But lost in my own fantasy,

Ignorant of mine own pain,

Given by cruel time

And treacherous age.


I am not a real poet,

But presenting the highest verse,

But sacrificed the bond with best half,

And the bliss of youth,

Got grey hairs and cracking bones.

But still no award for me.


I am not a real poet,

As I have no award to return,

Nor any wealth to preserve.

I am not in the company of,

Chest beating secular tolerant,

And slogan mongering troops.


I cannot defame nation of intolerant,

I am not a member of candle gang,

I am not a part of paid and fixed media,

But served the nation and people;

By my honest and humanist pen,

But still I am not a poet.


I am not a real poet,

As I have no dirty beard but kept carefully,

Nor have I any jhola to show my red identity,

I own no NGO to fake service,

Still I am not a real poet,

Still I have no award to return,


N.B.. This poem was written to show the corrupt practices to win awards in India and then use them as a political toll to settle scores, as nation witnessed Award Wapsi drama (Award Return) in the name of intolerance recently by such biased and fixed award winners.



Merry Christmas – 2015

December 20, 2015

Christmas period is a amazing period.

Period, not only to rejoice but learn by heart,

The cow like virtues of Christ,

Who blessed humanity with love

Peace, charity and chaste living.


Let every Christmas usher world with,

Peace, cheerfulness, love, sacrifice;

Righteousness and brother-hood.

Christmas and Christmas spirit will,

Remain fresh and bright, till humans have memory,


People will attend and enjoy X-Mas,

Mass one Christmas after another;

The mesmerizing memento,

Of everything good in life,

Those unite us with lofty joy.


The participation of each and one,

Will deliver celebration to all, and,

Oh! It will wipe tears of widows, orphans;

Of maimed ones, of shattered beings;

Of homeless, facing stormy weathers.





December 16, 2015

Hatred is gloomy and obstinate,

It might have reason but not good.


Hate torments the soul within,

Not to bother who provoked it.


All must shun hate out of heart,

And move the good steps.


Forget the feeling bad and hate,

And give peace to tired eyes.


Eliminate the shadow of dark,

And house the adventures in life.

Lovely Image of A lovely Woman

December 16, 2015

Honey sweetness perfectly completes
For your body is sticky like sugar sweets

The aura of beauty and grace in the air
Moving and dancing with melody everywhere
Spending the time we do together
Un-forgetful time I truly treasure

Oh! But failed to win Dame Love.


To win her love and heart,

To see her gleaming spirit,

Smiling with sympathy and care,

Which I trick to entice and measure,

Can’t be win over weapons and greed,

I can’t be Lord Buddha to win Asoka,

Give me some magic to turn her sorrows to bliss.


Wish to eat with you, sleep with you-.

Want to melt your body in mine too,

Pleasures of your eyes face and body,

To hold your hands and breast pretty,

Think of you, when sit alone, or wake at night,

Oh! Can I awaken love in you right,

To create hope and cheers to get you fully.



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