Discover the Writer in You

    ‘The safety, honor and welfare of your country come first, always and every time. The honor, welfare and comfort of the men you command come next. Your own ease, comfort and safety come last, always and every time.’                                                                                                                                   Philip Chetwode It was in July 2011 that I decided to finally hang my uniform after having served for twenty one years in Indian Army. Having given my youth to this excellent profession of arms, I set out to explore what lay on the other side of the hill.   The vagaries of civil life had been quite a popular subject during many a heated discussions; at the late night officer mess parties and time was now ripe to eat the forbidden fruit. As my family settled down at Meerut, life brought me to Mumbai where I accepted a corporate job as a marketing manager. I rented a flat near my office as travelling in this city of dreams, especially durin

It was a white ambulance with a red warning light. We were following it for quite some time through the early morning traffic of Delhi.  It carried someone who was very dear to us. The van entered the cremation ground and went straight to platform No 15. The air was heavy with the smell of burning human flesh. Two male medical assistants, clad in blue PPE slithered out of the back door. One of them peeped inside and pushed open a rectangular freezer. Carefully, they pulled out a grey, laminated body bag which was sealed and tagged. They placed the bag on top of a wooden pyre which was already there. ‘Who is the elder among you?’ a young pandit asked indifferently, unpacking at the same time a sleek, cardboard box that contained a pack of incense sticks. My brother inched forward. ‘Can we have one last look at her?’ he said in a feeble voice. ‘Look, as per the rules, it is not allowed. She died of COVID. We can’t take a chance.’ My brother wanted to plead further but I softly placed my

  A pin drop silence haunted the room as a lean doctor with a pointed nose ruffled through some medical reports. ‘I am sorry but it’s a matter of time now.’ He announced solemnly to the crowd gathered around him and left. All eyes shifted towards a grey haired man who reclined on a white hospital bed with an oxygen mask fixed to his mouth. A couple of rubber tubes jutted out of his arms and chest. His face appeared frozen like ice but he could nevertheless feel an unmistakable warmth in his guts. Yes - he was as good as gone but somewhere deep down, life still lurked inside him. He was aware of the presence of anxious people around him. ‘How much they care for me!’ he thought, ‘if only I could live some more and thank them.’ As his mind continued to spin, he slipped into a delirium and thousands of images flashed across his mind: A young, radiant farmer driving a tractor; ploughing a large field, a beautiful woman sat next to him; smiling and whispering sweet n

  (चित्र: शालिनी सिंह) वह एक बहुत ही खूबसूरत चेहरा था। दो साल   की एक मासूम बच्ची का चेहरा। घुंघराले सुनहरे बाल , शरारत से भरी आंखें , दूध सा गोरा रंग्। लेकिन साथ ही उसके फंटे होंठ और मैले पड़े हाथ‌‌‌‌‌ पैर् साफ दिखाई पड़ते थे। सिर्फ एक पुरानी सी फ्रोक लटकाकर वो नन्ही सी जान कैसे नंगे पैर उस सख्त फुट्पाथ पर खडी थी , ये जान पाना मुश्किल   था।   आंचल ने यह सब देखा। बड़ी बारीकी से। वह रोज सुबह दौडने के लिये कालेज से बाहर निकलती थी। लेकिन इस तरफ आज पहली बार आई थी।   इस बीच उस छोटी बच्ची ने अपना एक पैर फुट्पाथ से नीचे रखा। लाल रंग का एक पोलीथीन सड्क के ठीक बीचोंबीच हवा के थपेडों से नाच रहा था। वो मंत्रमुग्ध सी उसकी और देख रही थी। फिर उसने अपना दूसरा पैर सडक पर रखा। सामने से एक कार तेजी से आ रही थी।   तभी एक अधेड़ उम्र की औरत दौड़ती हुई आई और उसका हाथ पकड कर अपनी ओर खींच ले गई। इससे पहले की वो कुछ समझ पाती , दो करारे थप्पड़ उसके गाल पर पड़ चुके थे। मोटे मोटे आंसू टप टप बहने लगे लेकिन आंखे अभी भी उस लाल पोलीथीन पर टिकीं थीं जो इस समय बिजली   के एक पोल पर जा लटका था