' Praise and blame, gain and loss, pleasure and sorrow come and go like the wind. To be happy, rest like a giant tree in the midst of them all.' -Buddha
Issue-19-Year-2
In this issue: Favourites Forever: Thomas Bracken, Thomas Lovell Beddoes , Michael Drayton. Here & Now:Kate Clanchy. Urdu mystro Ismat Chughtai's famous story's English translation ' House-Wife.' and in kids corner a beautiful story 'kelly the clown' and two funny poems by Spike Milligan with all other regular feature . Edited & Compiled by Shail Agrawal e.mail: editor@lekhni.net ,shailagrawal@hotmail.com ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- -
My Column
'Divorce rate in the west is falling' that was the official news given by B.B.C. There was nothing surprising in the news and the reason given was very simple; lot of young adults do not want to get married these days, or do not feel any need for it! In olden days they used to say that marriages are made in heaven; Tell this to any youth today and he may start laughing, may even reply with a shake or two of his head ' And broken on this earth!' because sanctity and stability from the word is totally missing these days.
Someone asked other day weather our marriage was arranged or a love marriage and how come most Indian's arranged marriages work for life and lot of them even manage to keep their spark and fizz also. In reply, simile which flashed was quite accurate and appropriate to my mind; most marriages in the west are like a bottle of champaign, where the whole fizz and spark goes out as soon as the bottle is opened, while a stable marriage or relationship should be like a bottle of wine, which keeps on maturing with time, both in its flavour and its impact .
Easy access to divorce and alumany, co-habitation and recognition of homosexuals by the society and law; has thrown the whole meaning of marriage in turmoil. Now it is just a partnership of convenience, not a lifelong commitment. Multi- marriages and many partners is not a blemish or a social taboo anymore and the result is that children outside a wedlock and divorces; both are soaring high in number, not only in a western society but in any traditional conservative societies of eastern culture also. Nothing wrong if a society and its values evolve with the time but to throw the baby with the bath-water is definitely not a sensible practice. Definitely there is no point in taking any vows if we cannot keep them , or do not want to keep them but it is also irresponsible to take any commitment without understanding the responsibilities and restrictions it entails .
Understanding the value of any thing to exploit its full potential, demands a deep understanding and knowledge and to be familiar, one definitely needs time also . No doubt, sense of familiarity brings a cushioning comfort while a whirlwind infatuation will pass on like any other storm.
“That one I love who is incapable of ill will, And returns love for hatred. Living beyond the reach of I and mind, And of pain and pleasure, Full of mercy, contented, self-controlled, With all his heart and all his mind given to Me – With such a one I am in love.” Bhagwat Gita
Laugh or cry one may, but marriage and family also demand same care and love... a devotion of same kind, a totally selfless attitude!
Not understood. We move along asunder; Our paths grow wider as the seasons creep Along the years; we marvel and we wonder Why life is life and then we fall asleep-
Not understood.
Not understood. We gather false impressions, And hug them closer as the years go by, Till virtues often seem to us transgressions; And thus men rise and fall, and live and die-
Not understood.
Not understood. Poor souls with stunted visions Oft measure giants by their narrow gauge; The poisoined shafts of falsehood and derision And oft impelled 'gainst those who mould the age-
Not understood.
Not understanding. The secret springs of action Which lie beneath the surface and the show Are disregarded; with self satisfaction. We judge our neighbor, and they oftengo-
Not understood.
Not understood. How trifles often change us! The thoughtless sentence or the fancied slight Destroys long years of friendship, and estrange us, And on our souls there falls a freezing blight-
Not understood.
Not understood.How many breasts are aching For lack of sympathy! Ah, day to day How many cheerless, lonely hearts are breaking! How many noble spirits pass away-
Not understood.
O God! that men would see a little clearer, Or judge less harshly where they cannot see; O God! that men would draw a little nearer To one another; they'd be nearer Thee-
Not understood.
-Thomas Bracken
Dream Pedlary
If there were dreams to sell, What would you buy? Some cost a passing bell; Some a light sigh,
That shakes from life's fresh crown Only a rose leaf down.
If there were dreams to sell, Merry and sad to tell, And the crier rang the bell, What would you buy?
A cottage lone and still, With bowers nigh, Shadowy, my woes to still, until I die.
Such pearls from life's fresh crown Fain would I shake me down.
Were dreams to have at will, This would best heal my ill, This would I buy.
But there were dreams to sell, Ill didst thou buy; Life is a dream, they tell, Waking, to die.
Dreaming a dream to prize, Is wishing ghosts to rise; And, if I had the spell To call the burried well,
Which one would I?
If there are ghosts to raise, What shall I call, One of hell's murky haze, Heaven's blue pall?
Raise my loved long-lost boy To lead me to his joy.
There are no ghosts to raise; Out of death lead no ways,
Vain is thecall.
Know'st thou not ghosts to sue? No love thou hast. Else lie, as I will do, And breath thy last.
So out of life's fresh crown Fall like a rose-leaf down. Thus are the ghosts to woo; Thus are the dreams made true,
Ever to last!
-Thomas Lovell Beddoes
The Parting
Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part; Nay, I have done, you get no more of me, And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart, That thus so cleanly I myself can free.
Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows, And when we meet at any time again, Be it not seen in either of our brows That we one jot of former love retain.
Now at the last gasp of Love's latest breath, When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies, When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death, And innocence is closing up his eyes.
Now if thou would'st, when all have given him over. From death to life thou might'st him yet recover.
His head was grand and mottled as a planet. There were no maps: his rage sprang up mysterious as geysers. The continents Were dark where his several brothers lived ( though Uncle James from Africa once showed up in the flesh) and if there were, in the frozen poles, the hole he'd put his father in, long ago, I never knew nor dared to ask, He was munificent and vast, that is all I know for sure:
Grandad looked like old Duke Wayne and shot birds with the Earl of Cairn, He had cigars and a jaguar, and his father was a gas fitter. He beat us all at dominoes, but drew black/black one day and died. Because of him we're not self made.
He left us that, Aunt Katie's rug and a drawer full of cashmere socks, luxurious and muffling, easily worn to holes.
Act 2
If you aged the way they do on stage- came home to find the set had changed, New chairs, bright walls you didn't choose, and the heads turned towards you doused in powder, as if the ceiling has fallen in a blizzard of plaster and they'd sat on, too stupid, too surprised, to unarch their brows or flex their faces, claw off the latex jowls, the padded chins and pencilled wrinkles, Wipe the dust from their rheumy eyes-
Would you laugh, do you think, or walk back through the paper door and run amok behind the scenes , locate the lout in charge of lights, the wiseass who wrote the script, demand the truth, the truth, or ram a fist through through those crisp unlokely walls? Or
would you know the scenes for one you'd practised, pick up your cue and cross to Mother and know, too as you stopped to kiss her; the flat hoarse voice whispering your lines?
The day Mirza's new maid ambled into his house, there was a sensation in the neghbourhood. The sweeper who normally avoided work, stayed on and scrubbed the floor with great vigour. The milkman, notorious for adulterating his ware, brought milk clogged with cream
Who could have named her Lajo- the coy one? Bashfulness was unknown to lajo. No one knew who begot her and abandoned her on the streets to a lonely, weeping, childhood. Begging and starving, she reached an age when she could snatch a living for herself.Youth etched her body into bewitching curves and this became her only asset. The street initiated her into the mysteries of life.
She never haggled. If it was not a cash-down proposition, it would be sex on credit. If the lover had no means, she would even give of herself free.
' Aren't you ashamed of yourself?' people asked.
' I am!' Lajo would blush brazenly.
' You'll regret it some day.'
' I couldn't care less! '
How could she? With a face that was innocence itself, dark eyes, evenly set teeth, a mellow complexion and a gait so swinging, so provocative?
Mirza was a bachelor. Flattering and baking chapatis daily had flattened out his existence. He owned a small grocery shop which he pompously called " General Store." The shop did not give Mirza any leisure even to go to his home town and get married.
Mirza's friend Bakhshi had picked up Lajo at a bus stop. Bakhshi's wife was nine months pregnant and they needed a maid. Later Lajo was not required, Bakhshi deposited her at Mirza's. Instead of squandering away at brothels, he thought, why not let Mirza enjoy a free dish?
'God forbid. I won't have a tart in the house!' said Mirza warily.
' Take her back! '
But Lajo had already made herself at home. With her skirt hiked up like a diaper, broom in hand, she was sweeping Mirza's house in dead earnest. When Bakhshi informed her of Mirza's refusal, it fell on deaf ears. She ordered him to arrange the pans on the kitchen shelf and went out to fetch water. ' If you wish, I'll take you back home,' Bakhshi said.
' Out with you! Are you my husband To take me back to my mother's? Go! I will tackle the Mian myself ! '
Bakhshi's departure left Mirza helpless. He ran out and took refuge in the mosque. He was not prepared to incur this extra expenditure. Moreover, she was bound to pilfer and cheat. What a mess Bakhshi had got him into!
But on returning home he held his breath. As though his late mother, Bi Amma, was back! The house was sparkling.
' Shall I serve dinner Mian?' Lajo asked and disappeared into the kitchen.
Spinach and potatoe curry, moong ki daal fried with onion and garlic---just the way Ammaji used to cook!
' How did you manage all this?" Mirza asked baffled.
' Borrowed from bania.'
' Look, I'll pay your return fare. I just cannot afford a servant,'
' Who wants to be paid? '
' But... '
' Is the food hot ? ' Lajo asked, slipping a fresh chapati into his plate.
' Not the food but I am certainly hot from top to toe! ' Mirza wanted to shout as he went into his room to sleep.
' No Mian, I am here for good ! ' Lajo threatened when he brought up the question again the next morning.
' But...'
' Didn't you like the food? '
' It's not that...'
' Don't I scrub and clean well ? '
' It's not that...'
' Then what is it? Lajo flared up.
She had fallen in love, not with Mirza, but with the house. Bakhshi, the bastard, had once rented a room for her. Its previous occupant had been Nandi---a buffalo. The buffalo was dead and gone to hell but left behind his stench and Bakhshi did not treat her well either. Now here she was, the unrivalled mistress of Mirza's house. Mirza was uncomplicated. He would sneak in, softly and quietly, and eat whatever was served.
Mirza, for his part, checked the accounts a few times and was satisfied that Lajo did not cheat.
At times she went across to Ramu's grandmother for a tete-a-tete. Ramu was Mirza's dissipated teenaged help in the store. He fell for Lajo the minute he saw her. It was he who told her of Mirza's frequent visits to the singing girls.
This hurt Lajo. After all, what was she for? Wherever employed, she had served well in every capacity. And here a full chaste week had passed! She had never felt so unwanted before. Several offers came her way but she was Mirza's maid. She rejected one and all, lest Mirza should become a laughing-stock. And here was Mirza---an iceberg, or so he appeared. Lajo could not see the volcanoes erupting within him. He kept away from home deliberately.
Lajo's name was on every lip---today she slapped the milkman, yesterday she had aimed a dung-cake full in the face face of bania and so on. The schoolmaster insisted on educating her. The Mullaji of the mosque burst into prayers in Arabic, beseeching God to ward off impending danger!
Mirza came home annoyed. Lajo had just her bath. Strands of wet hair clung to her shoulders. Blowing into the Kitchen fire had flushed her cheeks and filled her eyes with water. She ground her teeth at Mian's untimely entry.
Mirza almost toppled over ! After a silent, uneasy meal, he picked up his walking-stick, went out and sat in the mosque. But he could not relax. Ceaseless thoughts of home made him restless. Unable to hold out any longer, he got back and found Lajo on the threshhold, quarelling with a man. The man disappeared the moment he saw Mirza.
' Who was that? ' Mirza's tone was that of a suspicious husband ! '
' Raghava ! '
' Raghava ? ' Mirza had been buying milk from him for years and yet did not know his name.
' Shall I prepare hookah Mian?' Lajo changed the subject
' No ! What was that man up to?'
' Was asking me how much he should bring from now on.'
' What did you say? '
' I said: May god hasten your funeral ! Bring the usual measure.'
' Then? ' Mirza was furious.
' Then I said: Bastard go, feed the extra milk to your mother and sister! '
' The scoundrel ! Don't let him set foot here again ! I will myself fetch milk on the way home from the store.'
That night, after dinner, Mirza put on a starched, freshly laundered Kurta, stuck a scented piece of cottonwoolin his ear, picked up his walking stick and walked out.
Jealousy wrung Lajo's heart. She cursed the singing-girl and sat dumbfounded. Was Mirza really indifferent to her? ' How could that be? ' she wondered.
The singing-girl was haggling with a customer. This upset Mirza. He turned away and made for the Lala's shop. There, he cursed inflation, rising prices, national politics...and returned home at midnight, spent and irritated. He drank a lot of cold water but the fire in him continued to blaze.
A part of lajo's smooth golden keg was visible from the open door. A careless turn in sleep tinkled her anklets. Mirza drained another glass of water and bundled up on his cot, cursing every-thing under the moon.
Ceaseless tossing in bed reduced his body to a blister. liters of cold water bloated his stomach. The roundness of the leg behind the door was irresitable. Unknown fears strangled him. But the devil egged him on. From his bed to the kitchen, he had walked so many miles but now he couldn't move a step.
Then an innocent idea crossed his mind. Were Lajo's leg not so exposed , he wouldn't be so uncomfortable...Gradually this idea took strength and so did Mirza. What if she woke up? Yet he had to take the risk---for the sake of his own safety.
He left his slippers under the cot, held his breath and tiptoed across, gingerly lifted the hem of the skirt and pulled it down slowly. He stood a while indecisively and turned away.
With one quick move, Lajo grabbed him. Mirza was speechless. He struggled, pleaded, but Lajo wouldn't let him go!
When he encountered Lajo the next morning, she blushed like a bride! Lajo, the victor, went about her chores boldly, humming a Kajri. Not a shadow of the night's happening flickered in her eyes. When Mirza sat down to breakfast, she sat on the doorstep, as usual, fanning the files away.
That afternoon, when she brought his lunch to the shop he noticed a new lilt in her gait. Whenever Lajo came to the shop, people would stop by and enquire about the price of groceries. She sold in a short while what Mirza couldn't during the entire day!
Mirza began to improve in his looks. People knew the reason and sizzled with envy. Mirza in turn, grew nervous and ill at ease. The more Lajo looked after him, the more he was enamoured of her and the more afraid he was of the neighbours. She was utterly brazen. When she fetched his lunch, the entire bazaar throbbed with his presence.
‘ Don’t bring lunch any more ! ‘ he told her one day.
‘ Why not? ‘ Lajo’s face fell. Staying home all by herself bored her. The bazaar was an interesting break.
Having stopped her from coming, many doubts assailed Mirza. He dropped in at odd hours to spy on her and she would insist on rewarding him fully for his attentions!
The day he caught her at a game of kabbadi with street urchins, his anger knew no bounds. Her skirt was blowing in the wind. The boys were engrossed in the skirt. Mirza passed by, holding his head high with affected indifference. His discomfiture amused the onlookers.
Mirza had grown fond of Lajo. The very idea of separation drove him crazy. He was unable to concentrate on his shop. He feared that some day she might desert him,
‘ Mian, why not marry her? Miran Mian suggested.
‘God forbid!’ he shouted. How could he form so sacred a relationship with a slut?
But that very evening, when he didn’t find her at home, Mirza felt lost. The confounded Lala had been long on the wait. He had offered her a bungalow! Miran Mian, a friend from all accounts, had himself made a proposition to Lajo on the sly.
Mirza was loosing hope when suddenly Lajo appeared. She had just gone across to Ramu’s grandmother!
That day Mirza made up his mind to take Lajo for a wife even at the cost of his family’s pride and prestige.
‘But why Mian?’ Lajo asked, surprised at his proposal.
‘Why not? Want to have a fling elsewhere? He asked crossly.
‘Why should I have a fling?’
‘ That Raoji is offering you a bunglow!’
‘ I wouldn’t spit on his bunglow!’
But the need for marriage completely escaped her. She was and would be his for life. A master like him was not easy to come by. Lajo knew what a gem Mirza was.All her previous masters inevitably ended up as his lovers. They would first have their fill, then beat her up and kick her out.Mirza has always been tender and loving. He had bought her a few clothes and a pair of gold bangles. No one in seven generations of Lajo’s family had ever worn ornaments of pure gold.
When Mirza spoke of his plan to Ramu’s grandmother, she too was surprised.
‘Mian, why tie a bell around your neck?’ she asked. ‘Is the slut making a fuss? A sound thrashing will see her right. Where beating up can do,why think of marriage?’
But Mirza was obsessed with the idea.
‘ You there, are you hesitating on account of the difference in religion?’ Ramu’s grandmother asked Lajo.
‘No, I’ve always regarded him as my husband. ‘
Lajo looked upon even a passing lover as a passing husband and served him well.Riches were never showered upon her, yet she gave of herself fully.---body and soul.Mieza was an exception, of course. Only Lajo knew the pleasure of give-and-take game with him. Compared to him others were pigs.
Also marriage was for virgins. How did she qualify to be a bride? She begged and pleaded, but Mirza was bent upon entering into a legal contact of a nikah.
That day, after the evening prayer, nikah was solemnised. Young girls of the neighbourhood sang wedding songs. Mirza entertained his friends. Lajo renamed Kaneez Fatima, became wife of Mirza Ifran Ali Beg.
Mirza imposed a ban on Lehngas and prescribed churidar pyjamas . Lajo, however, was used to open space between her legs. This new imposition was a big irritant. She could never get used to it. One day, at the first opportunity, she took off the pyjamas and was about to get into the lehnga, when Mirza turned up. In her confusion, she forgot to hold the skirt around her waist and dropped it to the floor.
‘The devil take you!’ Mirza thundered a Quranic curse. He hurriedly threw a bed-sheet over her.
Lajo could not understand his annoyance and the grandiloquent oration that followed. Where had she erred? This very act had taken Mirza’s breath away so many times in the past. Now he was so upset. He picked up the lehnga and actually fed it to the fire.
Mirza lrft, leaving Lajo shocked and uncomprehending. Discarding the sheet, she examined her body. May be some repulsive skin desease had erupted overnight.
When bathing under the tap in the open, she kept wiping her tears. Mithwa, son of the mason, climbed the terrace daily on the pretext of flying Kites and watched her. She was so sad today she neither stuck out her thumb nor hurled a slipper at him. She wrapped the sheet around and went indoors.
With a heavy heart she got into long trousers---as long as devil’s intestines. To add to her misery the cummerbund got lost inside the waistband. She shouted for help. Jullu, the neighbour’s daughter, appeared and the tape was located. ’ Which sadist could have adapted this rifle case for a feminine dress? Lajo wondered.
Later, When Mirza returned home, the tape played truant once again. Lajo tried To catch it with her fingers. Mirza found her nervousness endearing. After a combined concentrated chase, the tape was found.
But a ticklish problem popped up for Mirza. What used to be intoxicating coquetry in Lajo now turned to brazenness in his wife. The indecent ways of a flirt are unbecoming to respectable women. Lajo failed to be the bride of his dream---one who would blush at his amorous advances, be annoyed at his persistence and feign indifference to his attention. Lajo was a mere pavement slab.
Checking out at every step, Mirza curbed her excesses and tamed the wild in her---or so he thought. Also, he was no longer impatient to get back home in the evenings. Like all husbands, He spent more time with friends to avoid being labelled henpecked.
To make up for his frequent absences, he suggested engaging a maid. Lajo was furious. She knew of Mian’s renewed visits to the singing-girls. She also knew that every man of the neighbourhood went there. But, in her own home, she would not tolerate another woman! Let anybody step in her kitchen and tinker with her glistening vessels, Lajo would tear her to bits! She would share Mirza with another woman but certainly would not share her home.
Mirza .seemed to have installed Lajo in his house and forgotten all about her. For weeks he spoke only in monosyllables. When she was his mistress, allmen had their eyes on her. Now that she had gained respectability, she became “ mother, sister and daughter.”, No one cast even a stray glance at the jute curtain---except the faithful Mithwa. He still flew kite on the roof,although when Mirza was away and Lajo was bathing in the courtyard.
One night Mirza stayed away, celebrating Dussehra with friends. He came home next morning, had a quick wash and went off to the shop. Lajo was annoyed. It was then, while bathing, that she looked up at the terrace, Or may be that day Mithwa’s stares pierced her wet body like so many spears.
Suddenly his kite snapped. The broken cord brushed sharply against Lajo’s body. Lajo was startled. She got up quickly and ran into the room, absent- minded or deliberately forgetting to wrap the towel around her.
From then on, Mithwa was always found hanging around Mirza’s house. Whenever Lajo wanted something from the market, she would draw the jute curtain aside and shout ‘ Mithwa, don’t stay put like a dunghill! Get us a few Kachoris! ‘
If Mithwa did not appear on the terrace during her bath, she rattled the bucket loud enough to wake a corpse in its grave. The love, of which she had given so lavishly all her life, was now Mithwa’s for asking.If Mirza did not turn up for a meal, she would never waste the food but feed someone poor and needy. Who was needier than Mithwa?
Mirza was convinced that, chained to wedlock, Lajo had become a genuine housewife. Had he not seen himself, he would have never believed it. Seeing him on the doorstep so unexpectedly, she laughed uproariously. She could not, even in her wildest dreams, imagine that Mirza would be offended!
But Mithwa knew. Clutching his dhoti firmly with one hand, he bolted and stopped for breath only after he had crossed three villages! Mirza flogged Lajo so much that, had she been made of softer stuff, she would have breathed her last.
The news that Mirza had cought his wife with Mithwa spread throughout the village. People came in large numbers to watch the fun and were sorely disappointed to know that Mithwa, the hero, had fled and that the wife lay dismantled. Ramu’s grandmother arrived and took her away.
One would think a flogging like that would turn Lajo against the very idea of Mirza. Far from it! Beating helped achieve what marriage could not. The bond was stronger. The minute she came to, Lajo enquired about Mirza. All her masters inevitably ended up as lovers. After giving her a sound thrashing, the question of pay was set aside. She slogged free and was beaten from time to time. But Mirza had always been good. Other masters had even “loaned” her to friends but Mirza regarded her as his own. Everyone advised her to run away and save her skin but she did not budge.
How was Mirza to face the world? He has no way but to kill her in order to save his honour. Miran Mian held him back. ‘Why must you stick your head in the noose for a bitch? Divorce the whore and forget her!’
Mirza divorced Lajo immediately and sent 32 rupees of dower, mahr, her clothes and other belongings over to Ramu’s grandmother.
When Lajo heard of the divorce, she heaved asigh of relief. Nikah had proved unlucky. All mishaps have been due t6o that.
‘Is Mian still angry?’ She asked Ramu’s grand mother.
‘Shan’t set eyes on you. Wants you to get lost. The news of Mirza’s divorce rocked the village. Lala sent out a feeler. ’the bungalow is ready!’
‘ Dump your mother into it!’ Lajo retorted.
After a fortnight in bed, Lajo was on her feet again. The beating seem to have spring-cleaned herand left her more glowing than ever. When buying pan or kachauri, she took the whole bazaar by storm.
Mirza died a thousand deaths. Once he spotted her at bania’s arguing over something. The bania drooled.Mirza left, avoiding notice.
‘You are crazy, Mian! Why care for what she does? You have divorced her, haven’t you?’Miran Mian asked.
‘She has been my wife.’
‘If you want the truth, she was never your wife!’
‘ What about the nikah?’
‘Thoroughly illegal!’
‘How?’
‘ It was never valid. No one knows who begot her. And I suppose, nikah with a bastard is not valid,’ Miran Mian passed his verdict.
‘So the nikah never came into effect?’
‘Never!’ confirmed Miran Mian.
‘ And I never lost face either? My family’s reputation is involved.’
Mirza felt immensely relieved. ‘But what about the divorce?’ he asked, worried.
‘ My dear Mian, no nikah,no divorce!.’
‘So the thirty-two rupees were wasted!’ Mirza said sorrowfully.
In no time news travelled all over neighbourhood that Mirza was never married to his “ wife”, that the nikah and divorce had both been unlawful.
WhenLajo heard the news she danced with joy. The night that was her marriage and divorce was over. What made her happy was the fact that Mirza Mian had not lost face, after all.She had genuinely grieved that he had lost his honour because of her. ’What a boon it is to be bastard,’ she thought. God forbid, were she a legitimate child…Even the idea of such a possibility made her shudder.
Lajo was feeling suffocated at Ramu’s grandmother’s. Thought of house kept her worried. Mian could not have it swept or dusted for fear of theft. The place must be in a mess.
One day Mirza was on his way to the shop when Lajo waylaid him.
‘Mian shall I resume duty from tomorrow?’
‘Damn,’ said Mirza and walked away briskly.’ But I’ll have a maid sooner or later,’ he thought. ‘May be this wretch if none other.’
Lajo did not wait for Mirza to mke up his mind. She jumped into the house from the roof, tied up her lehnga and set to work.
That evening, on his return, Mirza held his breath. It was the late Bi Amma come back ! The house was sparkling clean. A smell of incense filled the air. The pitcher was filled with water and over there was a well scrubbed bowl.
Mirza’s heart went heavy with nostalgia. He ate the roast mutton and parathas in hushed silence. As usual Lajo sat on the door-step fanning the flies away.
At night, when she spread jute curtains on the kitchen floor and went to sleep, Mirza once again had a severe bout of thirst. He tossed and turned, listening to the provocative tinkle of her anklets. It clutched at his heart, as also a feeling of guilt. He felt he had been very unfair to her and grossly underestimated the poor creature. A deep sense of regret overtook him. He lay cursing himself.
Then with a sudden ‘Damn it all,’ he got up, ran across and collected the housewife from the mat.
Kelly the clown has fallen down from the toy cupbard and broken his red shiny nose. He shouldn't have listened to other toys and started to exhibit his newly learnt accrobatics in the middle of the night. When it is pitch dark, it is hard to negotiate a safe landing. Now he was so ashamed of himself that he deep dug his face in the thick pile of the carpet and lay their whole night sobbing.
When William picked him up in the morning and saw his favourite clown so upset, he understood why! He quickly ran to the medicine cupbard and put a plaster on his nose . After all mum does the same when he gets hurt in the playground ! But the plaster did nothing for Kelly except leaving an ugly mark on the already broken nose. Now things were getting tense in the Toy cupbard. Is he heading to the bin..? William himself had gone through this fear many times that day. He quickly ran for the solution and made a round plasticine nose exactly like Kelly's old one and left it to dry. when it dried up completely he painted it scarlet red. Exactly the shade it used to be before and then varnished it also. Now the nose was ready to go back on the clown's face. He carefully glued it there. The clown was so happy to find his nose back on his face that he couldn't hold his tears back and a big tear fell out from his eye and landed on his pink cheek shining like a big oval star. The Clown was looking so beautiful now that eveybody wanted to play with him. But William loved his clown too much to let it nose fall back again so he put him on his study table on top of his important papers and told his friends this is a very special clown, so we can not play with him like an ordinary toy. You can admire it from the distance without touching it. Thus Kelly and William stayed together always.
Now William is a grown up man and he still has his Kelly the clown with him in his office. He shows his clown proudly to his son Peter and tells him often how carefully he once mended him. He also keeps telling him in a soft and faraway voice that ' If you like somebody or something you should take good care of it, understand it properly, so it can stay with you all it's life and both of you can be really happy together.' 'Yes, Dad ! Like I'm going to look after you all your life.' Little Peter also keeps on reminding his Dad now and then. Whenever he wants to give his Dad a big hug and kiss, he just comes running to his dad and hugs him without a moment's delay. 'After all who loves him more than his Dad and make him so happy too !' William also proudly smiles back at his Son, giving him the tightest and tickliest bear-hug ever given by a Dad to his son.
-Shail Agrawal
Fear Fly
If I was a fly I don't suppose, I'd want to land On someone's nose.
A nose is meant To run or drip And not be used as A landing strip.
I'd never land Upon an ear, You never know What you might hear,
Never land on A sailor's belly That's how we lost Auntie Nelly.
The most dangerous place To land I know Is either Gatwick Or Heathrow.
-Spike Milligan
Granny Boot
Granny in her bed one night Heard a little squeak ! And then a little Peck-peck-peck Like something with a beak Then something that went Binkle-Bonk Ickle-tickle-toot And all of it was coming From inside Grandma's boot!
Then the boot began to hop It went into the hall And then from deep inside the boot Came a Tarzan call The sound of roaring lions The screech of a cocatoo
Today that boot is in a cage Locked in the London Zoo.
25 अगस्त 2008 को दिल्ली के इंडिया हैबिटैट सैंटर में पैंगुइन द्वारा प्रकाशित श्री अशोक चक्रधर जी की दो पुस्तकों 'यूं ही' एवं 'मसलाराम' का लोकार्पण हुआ। लोकार्पण किया डॉ. रामदरश मिश्र और श्री उदय प्रताप सिंह ने। इस मौके पर एक छोटी सी कविगोष्ठी का आयोजन भी किया गया जिसमें डॉ. विनय भरत राम, श्री माधव कौशिक और सुश्री विकी आर्य ने काव्य-पाठ किया।
सर्वश्री प्रो. अशोक चक्रधर, डॉ. रामदरश मिश्र, उदय प्रताप सिंह, विकी आर्य, डॉ. विनय भरत राम, माधव ...
इन दिनों समारोहों का सिलसिला अपनी निरंतरता में गतिमान है। इंडिया हैबिटेट सैंटर के उसी गुलमोहर सभागार में 29 अगस्त को सम्पन्न हुई "जयजयवंती साहित्य संगोष्ठी" में डॉ. अशोक वाजपेयी का सम्मान हुआ। उनके लैपटॉप को हिन्दी सॉफ्टवेयरों से सज्जित किया गया। मीडिया विशेषज्ञ श्री उदय सहाय की अध्यक्षता में हिन्दी के भविष्य और भविष्य की हिन्दी पर चिंतन हुआ। श्री जे.सी. शर्मा और प्रो. ए.के. बक्शी ने अपने विचार रखे। इस अवसर पर सुप्रसिद्ध गायिका शुभा मुद्गल ने आलोक श्रीवास्तव के ब्लॉग का लोकार्पण किया।
अशोक जी का लैपटॉप अशोक जी को ही प्रदान करते हुए, लेकिन हिन्दी सॉफ्टवेयर सज्जित।
शुभा मुद्गल जी द्वारा श्री आलोक श्रीवास्तव के ब्लॉग का लोकार्पण
मीडिया एक्सपर्ट्स; बाएं से सुश्री स्नेहा चक्रधर, श्री राकेश कुमार, श्री उदय सहाय,सुश्री वर्तिका नन्दा
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( मुंबई, भारत)
कवि कुलवंत सिंह के काव्य संग्रहों 'चिरंतन' एवं 'हवा नूँ गीत' का विमोचन किरणदेवी सराफ ट्रस्ट के सहयोग से कवि श्री कुलवंत सिंह की काव्य पुस्तकों "चिरंतन" एवं "हवा नूँ गीत" (पूर्व काव्य संग्रह निकुंज का गुजराती अनुवाद - श्री स्पर्श देसाई द्वारा) का विमोचन समारोह कीर्तन केंद्र सभागृह, विले पार्ले, मुंबई में २१ अगस्त, २००८ को संपन्न हुआ। पुस्तकों का विमोचन प्रसिद्ध उद्योगपति एवं समाजसेवी श्री महावीर सराफ जी के कर कमलों द्वारा संपन्न हुआ । कार्यक्रम की अध्यक्षता की - 'महाराष्ट्र हिंदी साहित्य अकादमी' के अध्यक्ष श्री नंद किशोर नौटियाल जी ने। विशिष्ट अतिथि के रूप में महानगर के अनेक गणमान्य एवं साहित्य के शीर्षस्थ योद्धा पधारे ।जिनमें प्रमुख थे - नवनीत के पूर्व मुख्य संपादक श्री गिरिजाशंकर त्रिवेदी, कुतुबनुमा की संपादिका श्रीमती राजम नटराजम, फिल्म कथाकार श्री जगमोहन कपूर, अंजुमन संस्था के अध्यक्ष एवं प्रमुख शायर खन्ना मुजफ्फरपुरी, प्रमुख शायर श्री जाफर रजा, श्रीमती देवी नागरानी, श्रुति संवाद के अध्यक्ष श्री अरविंद राही, ह्यूमर क्लब के अध्यक्ष श्री शाहिद खान, कथाबिंब के संपादक श्री अरविंद, संयोग साहित्य के संपादक श्री मुरलीधर पांडेय, श्री देवदत्त बाजपेयी एवं अन्य अनेक गणमान्य गीतकार, कवि एवं शायर। जिन्होने नवोदित कवि एवं गीतकार श्री कुलवंत सिंह के लिए अपने अनेकानेक आशीषों की झड़ी लगा दी । कार्यक्रम में पुस्तक पर समीक्षा प्रस्तुत की डा. श्रीमती तारा सिंह एवं श्री अनंत श्रीमाली ने। कार्यक्रम का संचालन किया मंचो के प्रसिद्ध संचालक श्री राजीव सारस्वत ने। कार्यक्रम का प्रारंभ हंसासिनी माँ सरस्वती पर माल्यार्पण एवं दीप प्रज्जवलन से किया गया । माँ सरस्वती का आवाहन पण्डित जसराज जी के शिष्य श्री नीरज कुमार ने कुलवंत सिंह द्वारा रचित वंदना को अपने कण्ठ से अभिनव स्वर प्रदान कर की ।पुस्तकों के विमोचन के उपरांत कवि कुलवंत सिंह के गीतों पर संगीतमय प्रस्तुति की - श्री सुरेश लालवानी ने। शिप्रा वर्मा ने भी एक गीत को सुर प्रदान किये। इस अवसर पर कुलवंत सिंह की रचनाओं पर टिप्पणी करते हुए अध्यक्ष श्री नौटियाल जी ने कहा कि कुलवंत की कुछ रचनाएँ भले ही काव्य के पारखियॊं की दृष्टि में उतनी खरी न उतरें; लेकिन ऐसी ही एक पंक्ति का जिक्र करते हुए'हो भूख से बेजार जब उतारता कोई स्वर्ण मुद्रिका जल रही चिता के हाथ' जब उन्होंने इसे अपनी पसंदीदा कविताओं में दर्ज कराया तो यह पंक्ति पढ़ते हुए उनकी आखें सजल हो उठीं ।राजम नटराजम ने कुलवंत की एक कविता 'पदचिन्ह' की इन पंक्तियों को पढ़ते हुए - 'बचपन में मैने गौतम बुद्ध को पढ़ा था,उनका साधूपन भाया था / सोचा था / मैं भी, तन से न सही, मन सेअवश्य साधू बनूंगा / समझ नही आता, आज लोग मुझे बेवकूफ क्यों कहते हैं'; टिप्पणी की कि काश यह बेवकूफपना हम सभी में बना रहे। एक माँ इस तरह बेवकूफ बन कर ही एक बच्चे का लालन पालन करती है। एक पिता अपने बच्चे के लिए इसी बेवकूफपने के तहत अपनी भविष्यनिधि से बच्चे का बर्तमान बनाता है । अपने अति व्यस्त कार्यक्रम से समय निकालकर श्री आलोक भट्टाचार्य भी अपना आशिर्वाद देने पहुँचे। इस अवसर पर प्रसिद्ध कथाकारा डा श्रीमती सूर्यबाला जी ने भी अपना संदेश भेजा ।गुजराती अनुवाद के सर्वेसर्वा श्री स्पर्श देसाई ने अपने अनुभवों को व्यक्त करते हुए दो छोटी कविताएं गुजराती में पढ़ीं । कार्यक्रम के अंत मेंकवि कुलवंत ने माँ सरस्वती सहित सभी आगंतुको का हार्दिक दिल से धन्यवाद किया ।
-कवि कुलवंत सिंह
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Samyik Meemansa ka Lokarpan Evam Parisambad. Delhi.
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रांची कवि-सम्मेलन, भारत
- डॉ रामचन्द्र राय
फादर कामिल बुल्के जन्माती समारोह एवं कवि सम्मेलनफादर कामिल बुल्के संशोध संस्थान, राँची, झारखण्ड एवं साहित्य प्रवाह ट्रस्ट,बड़ोदा,गुजरात के संयुक्त तत्त्वावधान में एक दिवसीय फादर कामिल बुल्के जन्माती आरम्भ के अवसर पर दिनांक 17 अगस्त,2008 को सेंट जेवियर्स कालेज,राँची के सभागार में एक संगोष्ठी एवं अखिल भारतीय कवि सम्मेलन का आयोजन किया गया।समारोह का आरम्भ झाड़सगुड़ा,उड़ीसा की सुश्री हेमा राठौड़ के उद्घाटन संगीत- पवित्र मन रखो। पवित्र तन रखो से हुआ। तत्पचात् साहित्य प्रवाह ट्रस्ट,बड़ोदा की अध्यक्षा कवयित्री डॉ नलिनी पुरोहित ने फादर कामिल बुल्के की स्मृति में निम्न कविता के माध्यम से उनके व्यक्तित्व पर उद्गार प्रकट किया-
एक विदेशी विद्वान बन बैठा जब स्वदेशी। भक्त तुलसी दास के रामकथा का। विस्मित हुए लोग कहीं अवतार तो नहीं ये तुलसीदास का। एक ऐसा सख्श जिन्होंन बनाया हिंदी को महारानी अंगरेजी उसकी सेविका कार्य क्षेत्र रांची को माना ससुराल। शिक्षा क्षेत्र इलाहाबाद को मायका।
इसके बाद फादर मेथियस डुंगडुंग, निदेश, फादर कामिल बुल्के संशोध संस्थान,राँची ने फादर बुल्के के जीवन पर प्रकाश डालते हुए कहा कि किस प्रकार बेलजियम के पचिम में स्थित फलैण्डर्स प्रान्त का रम्सकपैले गाँव में अभाव एवं संघर्ष भरे अपने बचपन बिताने के बाद बुल्के ने कई स्थानों पर अपनी पढ़ाई जारी रखते हुए लूबेन विश्वविद्यालय ,लिस्सेबेंगे में सन् 1930 ई. में इन्जीनियरिंग की पढ़ाई पूरी की। जेसुइट सेमिनरी में लैटिन भाषा पढ़ने के बाद,ब्रदर बने। बुल्के ने अपना जीवन एक संन्यासी के रूप में बिताने का निचय किया और कई महत्त्वपूर्ण संस्थाओं में अध्ययन करने के बाद, इलहाबाद विश्वविद्यालस से सन् 1947 ई. में एम ए हिंदी तथा रामकथा:उद्भव और विकास पर डी. फिल की उपाधि प्राप्त की। इन्होंने कई ग्रंथों की रचनाएँ कीं। इनमें रामकथा: उद्भव और विकास एवं अंगरेजी-हिंदी कोष भारतीय साहित्य विशेषकर हिंदी के मील का पत्थर का कार्य है। राँची विवविद्यालय,राँची के पूर्व अध्यक्ष एवं प्रोफेसर डॉ दिनेवर प्रसाद,जो कामिल बुल्के के आजीवन सहयोगी रहे। बुल्के के कई ग्रंथों के प्रणयन में अपनी सक्रिय सहयोगिता प्रदान की ने बुल्के के व्यक्तित्व एवं कर्तृत्व पर विस्तार से प्रकाश डाला। डॉ नलिनी पुरोहित ने फादर कामिल बुल्के पर डॉ. हरिवंशराय बच्चन की लिखी कविता को सस्वर पाठ कर सुनाया। शान्तिनिकेतन, पचिम बंगाल के डॉ रामचन्द्र राय ने अपने वक्तव्य में कहा जिस प्रकार मध्यकाल में तुलसीदास ने अपनी रामकथा के माध्यम से भारतीय जन-जन में राम की लोकप्रियता का संदेश पहुंचाया उसी प्रकार आधुनिक काल में फादर कामिल बुल्के ने रामकथा: उद्भव और विकास ग्रंथ के माध्यम से विभिन्न भाषाओं एवं देशों में प्रचलित रामकथा को ग्रंथित कर जन-जन में राम की लोकप्रियता से अवगत कराया।
संगोष्ठी के बाद, अखिल भारतीय कवि सम्मेलन का आयोजन किया गया। इस कवि सम्मेलन में उंटी (तमिलनाडु) से श्री ईश करुण, इन्दौर (मध्य प्रदेश) से श्री प्रदीप नवीन, शांतिनिकेतन (पचिम बंगाल) से डॉ रामचन्द्र राय, पटना (बिहार) से श्रीमती पूर्णिमा श्रीवास्तव, दुमका (झारखण्ड) से श्रीमती निर्मला पुतुल, राँची (झारखण्ड) से डॉ माया प्रसाद, डॉ शैलेश पण्डित,श्री कुमार बृजेन्द्र,श्री अशोक अंचल एवं डॉ नलिनी पुरोहित,बड़ोदा (गुजरात ) ने भाग लिया। कवि सम्मेलन का आरम्भ श्रीमती पूर्णिमा श्रीवास्तव की कविता इस लाल मिट्टी के अंचल में धड़कती थी कविता से हुआ। डॉ रामचन्द्र राय ने डोकहर कविता सुनाई । श्री ईश करुण ने सस्वर अपनी कविता का गायन किया। श्री प्रदीप नवीन ने अपनी हास्य-व्यंग्य रचनाओं से उपस्थित श्रोता का मनोरंजन किया। इसी प्रकार डॉ माया प्रसाद, श्री कुमार बृजेन्द्र,डॉ शैलेश पण्डित ने अपनी कविताएँ सुनाईं। श्रीमती निर्मला पुतुल ने वाहामुनी कविता सुनाई। कवि सम्मेलन का समापन कार्यक्रम की संचालिका कवयित्री डॉ नलिनी पुरोहित की वसंत कविता- वसंत पहले मुझे आकर कहता था तुम्हें कैसे पता चला मैं आ गया। अब मैं उससे पूछती हूँ कब आओगे भला और वह कहता अभी-अभी आकर तो गया तुम्हें पता भी नहीं चला।
से हुआ।
इस कार्यक्रम के मुख्य अतिथि सेंट जेवियर्स कालेज, राँची के प्रोफेसर डी ब्रोवर, श्री हरिवंश, सम्पादक, प्रभात खबर,राँची संस्करण एवं डॉ शैलेश पण्डित, निदेशक दूरर्दान केन्द्र,राँची तथा संचालक एवं संयोजक फादर मेथियस, डुंगडुंग,निदेशक, फादर कामिल बुल्के संशोध संस्थान, राँची एवं
डॉ नलिनी पुरोहित,अध्यक्ष,साहित्य प्रवाह ट्रस्ट, बड़ोदा, गुजरात रहीं।
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CHENNAI IS THE VENUE FOR PRAVASI BHARATIYA DIVAS 2009
Parvasi Bharatiya Divas (PBD) is the annual flagship event of the Ministry of Overseas Indian Affairs (MOIA) which aims to connect more 25 Million Indians with India's Economic and Social development. The Ministry is organizing Seventh edition of the PBD on 7-9 January, 2009 in Chennai, the South Indian city in Tamilnadu. The role of overseas Indians in the country's emergence as a global power will be the main theme. The event will be inaugurated by Prime Minister Manmohan Singh and President Pratibha Patil will address the concluding session of the three-day meet.
During the annual meet, the Diaspora's role in India's emergence as a global power will be the focus of deliberations. The congregation of Persons of Indian Origin (PIOs) and Non-Resident Indians (NRIs) will also dwell upon aspects like preservation of language and culture and health concerns of Indian Diaspora. Regional working sessions of the Diaspora residing in the Gulf, Asia-Pacific, Africa, USA, Europe, Caribbean and Canada will be organized.
A special trade and industry exhibition during the event with corporate, state governments, NGOs and financial institutions as participants will also be held as part of the convention, an official statement said.
SCHOLARSHIP PROGRAM-2009 FOR DIASPORA CHILDREN
The Ministry of Overseas Indian Affairs had introduced a Scholarship Program for Diaspora Children (SPDC) in 2006, to assist Persons of Indian Origin (PIOs) and Non-Resident Indians (NRIs) in pursuing under graduate courses in several disciplines in India. Under this program, over 220 PIO/NRI children have benefited during the last three academic years.
The Scholarship Program for Diaspora Children - 2009 has been announced. The following are the highlights of the SPDC-2009:
· 100 scholarships are being offered for undergraduate courses in several disciplines including Engineering/Architecture/ Technology, Humanities/Liberal Arts, Commerce, Management - BBA/BBM, Journalism, Hotel Management, Agriculture/Animal Husbandry, Sciences, Law, etc. · The program is open only to PIOs/NRIs from the specified 40 countries having a larger concentration of Indian Diaspora. · 50% of the scholarship would be reserved for PIOs. However, in the event of non-availability of suitable PIO candidates, the unfilled slots could be assigned to NRI candidates. · NRI candidates would be eligible for the grant of scholarship only if their total family income per month does not exceed an amount equivalent to US $ 2,250 (US dollars two thousand two hundred and fifty only) · Children of NRIs should have pursued at least three years of education inclusive of 11th & 12th or equivalent (not beyond), in a foreign country during the last six years, and should have passed the qualifying examination abroad. · The last date for receipt of duly filled-in application forms in the prescribed format by Ed.CIL is 1st September 2008. · PIO/NRI Students already studying in India on a self-financing basis or under any other arrangement will not be eligible under this scheme, which is open only for fresh admissions in the first semester/year of undergraduate courses. · Candidates would be selected on the basis of a common entrance test to be conducted by Ed.CIL on 26th October 2008 at this Consulate. Exact timings would be intimated subsequently. The candidates would also have to fulfill all the criteria prescribed for the purpose. · The amount of scholarship admissible would be 75% of the Institutional Economic Cost (IEC) or US $ 3,600, whichever is less. IEC includes Tuition fee, Hostel fee & other institutional charges.
A copy of the announcement, information booklet and application form for the Program can be downloaded from the Ed.CIL websites www.edcil.co.in and www.educationindia4u.nic.in.
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Nature Watch
An aerial survey by government scientists in Alaska's Chukchi Sea has recently found at least nine polar bears swimming in open water -- with one at least 60 miles from shore -- raising concern among wildlife experts about their survival.
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Can You Help
Dear Friends,
This 4yrs old baby girl was kidnapped by a person at some place and now she is under Kerala Police custody. Since the baby could not communicate her identification clearly, Police is struggling to find her parents. The information given by the baby, may or may not be correct. Requesting all to forward her photograph to the maximum people in India to identify her parents / relatives. This will cost only your time and will help one life. Information given by the baby: Name: POOJA Father's Name : Mr. Rajkiran
Mother's Name : Mrs. Munny Devi Language : HINDI Place : Nagaluppi (this was pronounced by the baby which Police could not find such a place.
The place must be related to the mentioned name). She is having one younger Brother & Elder Sister.
'Divorce rate in the west is falling' that was the official news given by B.B.C. There was nothing surprising in the news and the reason given was very simple; lot of young adults do not want to get married these days, or do not feel any need for it! In olden days they used to say that marriages are made in heaven; Tell this to any youth today and he may start laughing, may even reply with a shake or two of his head ' And broken on this earth!' because sanctity and stability from the word is totally missing these days. 
The day Mirza's new maid ambled into his house, there was a sensation in the neghbourhood. The sweeper who normally avoided work, stayed on and scrubbed the floor with great vigour. The milkman, notorious for adulterating his ware, brought milk clogged with cream
Kelly the clown has fallen down from the toy cupbard and broken his red shiny nose. He shouldn't have listened to other toys and started to exhibit his newly learnt accrobatics in the middle of the night. When it is pitch dark, it is hard to negotiate a safe landing. Now he was so ashamed of himself that he deep dug his face in the thick pile of the carpet and lay their whole night sobbing.
Then the boot began to hop
सर्वश्री प्रो. अशोक चक्रधर, डॉ. रामदरश मिश्र, उदय प्रताप सिंह, विकी आर्य, डॉ. विनय भरत राम, माधव ...
इन दिनों समारोहों का सिलसिला अपनी निरंतरता में गतिमान है। इंडिया हैबिटेट सैंटर के उसी गुलमोहर सभागार में 29 अगस्त को सम्पन्न हुई "जयजयवंती साहित्य संगोष्ठी" में डॉ. अशोक वाजपेयी का सम्मान हुआ। उनके लैपटॉप को हिन्दी सॉफ्टवेयरों से सज्जित किया गया। मीडिया विशेषज्ञ श्री उदय सहाय की अध्यक्षता में हिन्दी के भविष्य और भविष्य की हिन्दी पर चिंतन हुआ। श्री जे.सी. शर्मा और प्रो. ए.के. बक्शी ने अपने विचार रखे। इस अवसर पर सुप्रसिद्ध गायिका शुभा मुद्गल ने आलोक श्रीवास्तव के ब्लॉग का लोकार्पण किया। 
शुभा मुद्गल जी द्वारा श्री आलोक श्रीवास्तव के ब्लॉग का लोकार्पण
मीडिया एक्सपर्ट्स; बाएं से सुश्री स्नेहा चक्रधर, श्री राकेश कुमार, श्री उदय सहाय,सुश्री वर्तिका नन्दा 
कवि कुलवंत सिंह के काव्य संग्रहों 'चिरंतन' एवं 'हवा नूँ गीत' का विमोचन किरणदेवी सराफ ट्रस्ट के सहयोग से कवि श्री कुलवंत सिंह की काव्य पुस्तकों "चिरंतन" एवं "हवा नूँ गीत" (पूर्व काव्य संग्रह निकुंज का गुजराती अनुवाद - श्री स्पर्श देसाई द्वारा) का विमोचन समारोह कीर्तन केंद्र सभागृह, विले पार्ले, मुंबई में २१ अगस्त, २००८ को संपन्न हुआ। 
Samyik Meemansa ka Lokarpan Evam Parisambad. Delhi.
फादर कामिल बुल्के जन्माती समारोह एवं कवि सम्मेलनफादर कामिल बुल्के संशोध संस्थान, राँची, झारखण्ड एवं साहित्य प्रवाह ट्रस्ट,बड़ोदा,गुजरात के संयुक्त तत्त्वावधान में एक दिवसीय फादर कामिल बुल्के जन्माती आरम्भ के अवसर पर दिनांक 17 अगस्त,2008 को सेंट जेवियर्स कालेज,राँची के सभागार में एक संगोष्ठी एवं अखिल भारतीय कवि सम्मेलन का आयोजन किया गया।समारोह का आरम्भ झाड़सगुड़ा,उड़ीसा की सुश्री हेमा राठौड़ के उद्घाटन संगीत- पवित्र मन रखो। पवित्र तन रखो से हुआ। 
एक विदेशी विद्वान बन बैठा जब स्वदेशी। भक्त तुलसी दास के रामकथा का। विस्मित हुए लोग कहीं अवतार तो नहीं ये तुलसीदास का।
इस कार्यक्रम के मुख्य अतिथि सेंट जेवियर्स कालेज, राँची के प्रोफेसर डी ब्रोवर, श्री हरिवंश, सम्पादक, प्रभात खबर,राँची संस्करण एवं डॉ शैलेश पण्डित, निदेशक दूरर्दान केन्द्र,राँची तथा संचालक एवं संयोजक फादर मेथियस, डुंगडुंग,निदेशक, फादर कामिल बुल्के संशोध संस्थान, राँची एवं 
An aerial survey by government scientists in Alaska's Chukchi Sea has recently found at least nine polar bears swimming in open water -- with one at least 60 miles from shore -- raising concern among wildlife experts about their survival.
This 4yrs old baby girl was kidnapped by a person at some place and now she is under Kerala Police custody. Since the baby could not communicate her identification clearly, Police is struggling to find her parents. The information given by the baby, may or may not be correct. Requesting all to forward her photograph to the maximum people in India to identify her parents / relatives. 
Mother's Name : Mrs. Munny Devi 
