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									<title>notjustart</title>
									<link>http://www.fropper.com/ezBlog/notjustart</link>
									<description>Hi! there...I write poetry mainly...in 3 languages, English, Hindi and Marathi, my own language</description>
									<language>en-us</language>
									<pubDate>Wed, 19 Nov 2008 10:10:14 +0000</pubDate>
									<lastBuildDate>Thu, 20 Nov 2008 12:33:10 +0000</lastBuildDate>
				
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						<title>International Men's Day!</title>
						<link>http://www.fropper.com/post/24841</link>
						<description><![CDATA[ 
International Women&rsquo;s Day is celebrated on 8th March. But did you know when International Men&rsquo;s Day is celebrated? It&rsquo;s TODAY! On 19th November! And here&rsquo;s why it&rsquo;s celebrated on this day.  
 
United States President Abraham Lincoln delivered the Gettysburg address on 19 November 1863 in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania at a critical time in America&rsquo;s history. This address called for the honoring and remembrance of the contributions of the men who gave the ultimate sacrifice &ndash; their lives &ndash; during America&rsquo;s Civil War in 2008.  
 
This day is all about men getting in touch with their emotions, their inner self and the contributions they made or they make towards family, society, country and the world often sacrificing their own selfish (?) interests. Since ages men risked their lives for protecting and providing for the family (now I understand why many men feel marriage is a risky proposition!) elders and children. On International Men&rsquo;s Day, the contributions of all men, whether they are sons, brothers, fathers, friends or husbands are acknowledged by family, friends and society.  
 
A lot has been written about sacrifices made by Women. But how many have even as much as made a mention about sacrifices made by men?  Whether in routine life or otherwise? No, please don&rsquo;t think Women and Men are some sacrificial goats, as each of them contributes to the welfare of their kith and kin in their own way. But not much is said or talked about men&rsquo;s role in it, I wonder why! Men are as important for our future as women. But often it&rsquo;s the women who get the so-called sympathy.&nbsp; Men aren&rsquo;t asking for sympathy but they certainly are looking for some understanding, especially from women.  
 
Men offer life lessons about sacrifice, quietly and unceremoniously. Men who are Fathers place their own personal dreams on a shelf, and work at back-breaking, spirit-numbing, and for many &ndash; very dangerous jobs -- so that their children can have access to economic and educational opportunities that they themselves could only dream of. Men will walk through fire for their children, if that is what it takes to keep food on the table for them, a roof over their head, and clothes on their backs. Many of these Men &ndash; after completing a grueling day at work, return home and play an active role in the positive emotional, intellectual and psychological development of their children. 
 
Women and men are equal.  We see many women shouldering tough jobs, whether at home or at work in an office. In my opinion, the root cause of women getting an edge over men in most respects lies in the fact that they are called the weaker section.  Why? I ask. Women are not inferior to men in any way. In fact they are the creators of us. Then why do they pride upon being called so? And what&rsquo;s the opinion of women who think otherwise? I would like to know.  
 
The number of false dowry and even higher number of abuse cases have increased in recent years. With the Indian criminal justice system being so lethargic,  and its inherent bias against men, most of the abused husbands have no option but to put up with the abuse, mental, emotional and in some cases, even physical. It has come to light that many women are misusing the security provided by law.  
 
The law is in favor of women and is creating lot of problems for men who are innocent. The law about Domestic violence has been derived from the US. But in the US the law clearly states that a victim can be irrespective of race, color, class, or &lsquo;gender&rsquo;. The &lsquo;gender&rsquo; word has been excluded from Indian law. In India, about 20-30 per cent of men or their family members have been abused by their wives. And in almost all cases of family abuse, the woman is the abuser! 
 
It&rsquo;s time both women and men take caution and begin to respect each other. After all, it&rsquo;s their understanding which will help maintain peace and equilibrium in society.  
 
I would like to conclude by saying this to Men who are fathers. The greatest thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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						 <pubDate>Wed, 19 Nov 2008 10:10:14 +0000</pubDate>
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						<title>Luck pushed too hard!</title>
						<link>http://www.fropper.com/post/23951</link>
						<description><![CDATA[ Siddhhi Gajanan was a Deity that fulfilled the aspirations of all who came to its abode. It&rsquo;s here that people from all over India would come to seek the blessings of Lord Ganesha. At the root was their belief, that Lord Ganesha would never leave any of their wish unfulfilled. And true to its reputation, many received His blessings, either in the form of a promotion or a flourish in their business, even finding the right groom for the girl. Why, even the Flower and Coconut sellers outside the temple found a new vista to sell their goods and flourish in business, thus enhancing their lives!   On any given day, one could see long queues of devotees but Tuesday would be special, as it was known to be most auspicious to receive His blessings. It was on this day that devotees queued from previous night, to enable them an early entry in to the temple. The first Aarti at four a. m. would usher in another day at this temple.  Volunteers were a great asset to Siddhhi Gajanan temple. Their undaunted and selfless service came in handy to keep the crowd disciplined. Savitri was one such volunteer. Managing her home and a job, she would come to work here as part of her service to the humanity. Being here, she felt closer to Him. He had given her more than she could have asked for. Her husband Satish, who worked as a Security guard at the temple was also a devotee of Lord Ganesha.  It was early morning when Satish resumed for work, he was asked to supervise the &ldquo;Gabhara&rdquo; or the area where the shrine of Ganesha was. There were two entrances to the Gabhara and Satish was standing in the centre, guiding devotees that came in from both the sides. The whistle ready to go, a stick in his hand, he moved his hands to press the line on, maneuvering the devotees with such dexterity; he resembled a Traffic Police on duty!  For Satish, managing the crowd was routine and he would do his job with great intensity. Savitri loved her husband for his commitment and verve. For her, he was just what she wished for, as a life partner. True, Satish would feel being a graduate, he was worth more than being just a Security guard and he should be making more money. But she would console him by saying one day; He will hear his plea. The hand of Lord Ganesha was upon her.  It was almost noon when the temple doors were being closed for a short while. The shrine was flooded with heaps of garlands and flowers. The temple would remain closed for fifteen minutes, in which time, the shrine would be tidied, coconuts and other such offerings would be packed neatly, floors would be mopped and &ldquo;Purohits&rdquo; who performed the Pooja, would change duty.  As usual, Satish looked all around the floor with anticipation. It wasn&rsquo;t difficult for him to spot saw luminous piece of jewelry in a corner. It shimmered with opulence. Quietly he went up to it, picked it and slid inside his pocket. As usual no one noticed&hellip; or so he thought. As he looked up, he saw a man in a Safari suit, looking him in the eye. Satish didn&rsquo;t recognize him, still, he went up to him and handed him the piece of jewelry.  Satish didn&rsquo;t know this new guy in Safari suit. For that matter he didn&rsquo;t know the earlier guy too, who would come to collect the articles found after the Darshan. He was only familiar with the Safari that he wore anyway! Before Satish could say anything, the man spoke.  &ldquo;So! You seem to be taking your job a bit too seriously hunh? How many times have I told you not to discipline the crowd! Let them push, pull in all directions. It&rsquo;s their unruly behavior that we are banking upon. The more they become disorderly, the more things they will drop! And remember, if you keep neglecting orders in this manner, I shall have you put on night petrol&hellip;and believe me, I will do it one day. Don&rsquo;t forget, you are newly married!&rdquo;  &ldquo;Yes Sir, but&hellip;old habits die hard Sir, but&hellip; I will try&hellip;&rdquo; Satish was clearly apologetic.  &ldquo;Your collection for the past month is very poor you know? I must see improvement in you and your collection soon&rdquo;. The Safari guy continued.  &ldquo;I know Sir but that other guy who used to come for collections until today&hellip;&rdquo; Satish was trying to explain.  &ldquo;What about him? He was happy with your work, is it?&rdquo; The safari man said mockingly!  &ldquo;No no&hellip;not that exactly but he didn&rsquo;t complain either&hellip;Satish was sheepish in his tone.  &ldquo;Hmm&hellip;so how long this guy has been collecting such articles from you&hellip;?&rdquo; Satish was rattled with that question!  As he was about to answer, Satish saw the old Safari guy across the street. He was waving at him animatedly and saying something but Satish couldn&rsquo;t understand a word of it. Just then he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was the new guy holding Satish by the collar!  &ldquo;And now you will tell me all about that Safari chap and how you two have been ganging up and hoodwinking the devotees of their belongings! Come on; let me show you how it feels to be pushed and maneuvered!&rdquo; Inspector Jadhav's voice boomed.  ]]></description>
						 <pubDate>Fri, 31 Oct 2008 16:36:21 +0000</pubDate>
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						<title>The Migration</title>
						<link>http://www.fropper.com/post/23510</link>
						<description><![CDATA[                              Asha was cooking in the kitchen when she heard the now familiar squeaking of a Crow. Wiping her sweat, she picked up a piece of Chapati, came out in to the sitting room and put the piece on the window sill. Rushing back inside the kitchen, she turned the chapatti over. Gasping for a second, as the steam escaped through the borders of the chapatti, she blew on the burning fingers. The crow seemed not to have touched the piece of chapatti, as she heard it still squawking. She reduced the flame and came out one more time.   &ldquo;You can&rsquo;t even eat it by your self?&rdquo; Looking at the Crow, she muttered.  The Crow just looked at her and waited. She picked up the piece and fed it to the Crow. Only then did it fly away with fulfillment.  Right from her childhood, Asha was fascinated with Animals and Birds. She, along with her brother Vijay, stayed in this two room apartment. Her brother worked in a private company and she went to college, studying Fine Arts. After their Mother was no more, their Father married again. His new wife was not willing to stay with his children and so he lived in the same city and bought this place on rent for them.  Her day would typically start at 6, preparing food then going to college and return home in the afternoon. Each day, some or the other Crow would come visiting and eat a piece of Chapati. Some would eat on their own; some would wait for her to feed them. For her friends and onlookers, a Crow would like any other but not for her. She could always distinguish between them. Why, she had given them names too!   One was called the &ldquo;Tiny menace&rdquo; because although small in size, it croaked like the world was coming to an end! And another was named &ldquo;Big daddy&rdquo;, for it would sit little afar and watch all who came and ate their share of Chapati, then descend from where it would be sitting, to have a go! There was one who had sharp feathers and a short tail, as if was clipped to make it look smart. She chose to call it &ldquo;Page3&rdquo;. And there was another who would look in such a manner, that she was tempted to call it the &lsquo;Lurker&rdquo;!   All these crows had become an integral part of her life. They looked to her for their daily share of food and she would lovingly feed them. Though Asha didn&rsquo;t believe in any super natural elements, she felt her relationship with the Crows had its roots in her past life. For her, they established some connection with her last birth.  Asha befriended Parag almost the moment they met. He was a newcomer in her college and studied in the same class. It was closing time at the college and they walked outside the gates together, chatting about the project work then proceeded to their own way home.  Once Asha invited Parag to her house which was just a fifteen minutes walk from college. It was around 5 in the evening when they reached her home. Asha asked him to sit and went in to the kitchen to fetch some water. As Parag looked around the room, he noticed some frames on the wall; they all had pictures of Dogs, Cats and Birds. As Asha emerged from inside, a Crow perched on the window sill. Looking with anticipation, it squawked once, then was silent. Parag looked on but wasn&rsquo;t very surprised; as such a sight was common in some households. But when Asha brought a piece of Chapati and began feeding the Crow, he sat up and took notice.  &ldquo;It&rsquo;s the first time in my life that I am seeing such a thing!&rdquo; He couldn&rsquo;t conceal his surprise.  &ldquo;Haha! Really?&rdquo; Asha asked.  &ldquo;Yes, really&hellip; It&rsquo;s quite a revelation that the Crows aren&rsquo;t afraid of you&rdquo;.  &ldquo;They are a part of my life now, you know. Ever since me and my Brother came to stay here, they have been coming, many of them actually. Sounds weird to you?&rdquo; She asked.  &ldquo;Not weird exactly&hellip;&rdquo; His voice trailed.  &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t worry; I know how you feel about it. In fact many feel this way. My brother too thinks their existence in my life doesn&rsquo;t mean much. You know, he shoos them away many a times&rdquo;. She eased him out of the situation.  &ldquo;It&rsquo;s not that they don&rsquo;t eat anything except what I feed them I am sure. But it&rsquo;s a fact that they come here for their share of food each day&rdquo;. She added.  After spending some time with her, Parag took a bus home. His house was a half-hour ride by Bus. As he was nearing his home, he saw a Crow passing overhead. As his Mother opened the door, he heard the now familiar squawking. He rushed towards the balcony and saw a Crow sitting on the window sill. His Mother followed him and was quite surprised, for he was looking at the Crow intently. And the Crow too didn&rsquo;t fly away in fear, as they generally did, she noticed. After some moments the Crow took flight.  &ldquo;This Crow has been coming to our house since the past few days; you know&hellip;I am damn sure it&rsquo;s your Uncle who expired recently. He loved Chapatis cooked by me. I think it&rsquo;s him no doubt! She told Parag.  &ldquo;Oh! She also can&rsquo;t differentiate from one Crow to the other&rdquo;. As only he knew, this one was following him up to here from Asha&rsquo;s home. He was amazed that the Crow could pursue him at such a long distance.  It was almost two days since Asha was absent from college. Worried, Parag went to her house to inquire if everything was alright. The door was locked so he asked the neighbors. What he heard numbed him. Asha was no more. She lost her life in a car accident. &nbsp; It was only a few days since he had been friends with her. But he felt a void somewhere inside him. Like he had lost a part of him. He couldn&rsquo;t fathom why he felt so but anyone could see that he was shattered. And it wasn&rsquo;t for the suddenness of what had happened only. It was also for he had taken a liking for her as a friend. Asha was unique in many ways. But now there was no way he could find out more about her. He realized the uncertainty of human life in a rather harsh manner.  Parag didn&rsquo;t go to college the next day. He felt lethargic and despaired. He woke up a little late in the day. He would go to Asha&rsquo;s house and console her brother, he thought.   As he sat up on the bed, he heard the noise of loud squawking, one after another. Getting up, he approached the balcony and was stunned to see a whole lot of Crows lined up on the window sill, squawking, moving their wings up and down, shifting, changing places and attracting attention.   He went in to the kitchen and fetched a lot of pieces of Chapati and one by one, began to feed them, with his own hand.    ]]></description>
						 <pubDate>Wed, 22 Oct 2008 16:21:29 +0000</pubDate>
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						<title>The urge...</title>
						<link>http://www.fropper.com/post/23280</link>
						<description><![CDATA[The first thing Amar noticed when he opened his eyes that sultry morning were the dancing rays of light on the ceiling. The curtains were drawn but the window panes had parted ways some time during the night, making a pencil thin gap that allowed the breeze to step inside. Devoid of all this, Nisha, his wife slept on the bed, snoring softly. The lights on the chandelier were now a soft yellow. 
 
Amar was tempted to kiss her on her forehead but thought not to. Last night he felt &ldquo;like it&rdquo; and both of them went through it like they did these days, without much passion. He felt a pang of guilt too for he kept remembering Sunita, his office colleague, while having sex. Was Nisha also thinking about someone else? The thought crossed his mind. He also had the urge to have sex at this moment. He remembered telling Nisha, how much he loved having sex early in the morning. 
 
&ldquo;You must be nuts&rdquo;. Pointing at his head, she said. 
 
They did try doing that once or twice but Nisha was very fastidious about certain things. For her to indulge in sex without being clean was a big no-no. She would brush her teeth, make him brush too! And by the time that was done, both would lose interest. 
 
Just then he heard a knock on the door. It was their daughter Nidhi. She needed some money as there was a birthday of her best friend from college. He gave her some and bid her bye. Then came in and sat on the bed. 
 
These days, sex between him and his wife had become very monotonous. Nisha wasn&rsquo;t very interested in exploring, as she used to, until some years ago, when both of them were younger. As the years passed by, their awareness towards it began to wane and it remained as just any other thing in life.  
 
Amar was driving to office when his cell beeped. It was his friend Shashank. 
 
&ldquo;So? Are you joining us over this weekend at least, you home bird?&rdquo; He asked mockingly. 
 
&ldquo;Oh God&hellip;not again!&rdquo; Amar thought. 
 
&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s see&hellip;&rdquo; His voice trailed. 
 
&ldquo;I was about to tell you that please don&rsquo;t say those words. You&rsquo;ve been saying them once too often, have you noticed?&rdquo; Shashank was clearly irritated. 
 
&ldquo;I am sorry yaar, you know me. I love to spend weekends with my family&rdquo;. Amar tried to justify but in vain. 
 
&ldquo;You mean to say all of us don&rsquo;t? Don&rsquo;t kid yourself dear. How much will you keep holding on to your family and for how long?&rdquo; A tone of exasperation was evident in Shashank&rsquo;s voice. 
 
&ldquo;True&hellip;but&hellip;&rdquo;Amar didn&rsquo;t know what to say further. 
 
&ldquo;One more thing. Sunita is coming with us this time&hellip;with some of her other friends&hellip;&rdquo; 
 
&ldquo;Hello&hellip;you there? I know how much you like her you drill master! You stare so much at her, you must have dug holes in her back by now, Hehe! Shashank chukled.  
 
&ldquo;But the best part is Sunil says she is good you know&hellip;&rdquo; Shashank was clearly enticing him in to saying yes&hellip; 
 
&ldquo;Bastard!&rdquo;&hellip; Swearing under his breath, Amar just switched the cell off. 
 
All his friends were almost his age and he knew them from his college days. The &ldquo;Lousy Forty&rsquo;s&rdquo;, as they loved calling it! In their opinion, Forty&rsquo;s was that time of life, when the youth in you has taken a back seat and all you can do is watch the world go by. Standing in the center of a Merry-go-round won&rsquo;t be any simpler!  
 
As he reached office, he couldn&rsquo;t help but notice the change of hair style of the receptionist. This was one thing even he felt amazed with, his ability to mark anything new.  
 
&ldquo;It&rsquo;s alright if for a change, you just ignore anything that you notice dear, people aren&rsquo;t exactly waiting for your glance you see?&rdquo; Nisha would even tease him thus.  
 
And he would laugh aloud. True, people hardly took his surprised look seriously but that didn&rsquo;t deter him from noticing.  
 
As he entered the office, he met Sunita. She looked stunning as always. Her dress sense was just cool as she knew what looked good on her. And that fragrance, it could kill a man! On another day, he would feel the urge to hold her in his arms but as he remembered Shashanks words, he felt guilty to even reciprocate to her smile. Instead, he quietly proceeded to his cubicle.  
 
He was noticing a change in himself these days. Was he thinking too much about the other sex? Or was it only a temporary feeling? Which would pass in due time? He didn&rsquo;t know, he didn&rsquo;t dare to imagine, for it to stay any longer. It wasn&rsquo;t the attraction that he felt; it was more than just that. What worried him was his urge for sex that was on the rise. These days, he felt &lsquo;like it&rsquo; more often. Not with his wife only but with other women. For him that was a cause for concern. He gave it some thought. Was he not having enough sex? True, sex with his wife had become sluggish. But that was no reason why he would feel this way, he knew that. Then why the urge to have it with other women surfaced once too often, he couldn&rsquo;t fathom. Was it because of the Internet browsing? Were all those flaming figures, for him to see at just a click causing this? He couldn&rsquo;t find a rational answer. 
 
He spoke to Nisha about it, albeit half heartedly but she was a little apathetic. She attributed it to his new wardrobe, especially those Polka dotted shirts, which had him under a spell, making him look younger and think the same too! She had very cleverly evaded his real query by letting it pass, thus avoiding the expression of her honest view. And that pained him. He loved her the most and didn&rsquo;t want to spark any worry in her mind. 
 
Did it have something to do with his childhood? The memories began to flood his mind&hellip; 
 
As a ten year old kid, Amar was the youngest of three children. Fair, short but stout, he was adored by his two sisters, especially the eldest Shubhada. Since the time she failed in her tenth twice, she pursued a diploma course in sowing. His other sister was in school studying. Their Mother and Father both worked at a job and so Amar was taken care of by Shubhada and she loved doing it. Amar would generally come home by five in the evening but that day a Teacher passed away and the children were asked to leave earlier. As Amar knocked on the door, the door opened. It wasn't closed from inside. He called out to Shubhada once but upon not getting an answer, removed his shoes and walked inside the house. What he saw froze him to the ground. His mouth agape, he stood staring at his sister, looking in the mirror, her back at him. 
 
He didn't know what to do at that moment and in his bewilderment, the bag slipped to the floor. Startled, she turned to see who it was, her face turning a deep red. A sound escaped her mouth as she gathered her clothes and ran inside the kitchen. His heart hammered against his chest and with trembling feet, he walked towards a chair and slumped in it. His mouth went dry and he needed some water but didn't have the courage to get up and fetch it. 
 
Shubhada appeared from the kitchen, fully dressed. To his astonishment, she looked more composed than him.  
 
&quot;You look so tired. You must wash your face and sit to do home work. I will get you something to eat.&quot; She said with a smile. It was his first encounter with the body of a Woman&hellip; 
 
From that day onwards, he began developing in to a first rate voyeur. Peeping through doors that were ajar, he would watch Women, Girls, whether dressed or otherwise.  
Amar developed an attraction towards the other sex rather early in life. With a personality that would give a complex to other boys, the girls were found swooning over him. It wasn&rsquo;t long, before he began having sex with some of them. Years passed by and he grew in to a Man for whom Women were mere toys. Play with them but only until you find a new one. His male friends would take a jab at him saying his behavior was unethical and he would shrug it off, thinking they were actually jealous of him, which was true to an extent.  
 
His thought chain was broken by the beep on the cell, it was Nisha. They met at the Infinity Mall. While she was busy buying a few things like some oil and lotions, he was walking along, looking at some ready-mades. But he refrained from buying any. Later, they were joined by Nidhi&nbsp;and the three of them had dinner at their favorite eatery joint.  
 
The first thing Amar noticed when he opened his eyes that sultry morning were the dancing rays of light on the ceiling. The curtains were drawn but the window panes had parted ways some time during the night, making a pencil thin gap that allowed the breeze to step inside. The lights on the chandelier, fiery last night, were now a soft yellow but retained the glow of last night. It was a sizzling night alright, he reminisced, when he and Nisha, enjoyed sex like never before. And each time their bodies began to rendezvous, they discovered a new facet of their persona.  
 
But what made that night special was the initiative taken by Nisha. She had surely read what was going on in his mind for all these days. And it amazed Amar, for it was because of her, that he was overcoming this feeling of uncertainty. She even tried some new ways to express, to satiate. And it was Amar, who for once seemed in awe of her new found prowess in making love. Where did she learn all this? His questioning nature worked over time. Although Nisha was dripping with joy, she didn't fail to notice what passed his mind. But she ignored it at that moment and indulged herself in teasing him, alluring him, seducing him. 
 
Amar discovered another aspect of Nisha&rsquo;s persona that night. Each time they made love, she appeared new to him. Her hair tied one time; she would loosen them next. He massaged her feet with oil, giving her the immense pleasure of foreplay. They even played Scrabble, nude. The night melted in to dawn. And they slept in each others arms.  
 
As Amar was getting up to make some Tea, Nisha put her arms around him and pulled him towards her. It was time for the early morning spell.  
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						 <pubDate>Fri, 17 Oct 2008 16:51:34 +0000</pubDate>
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						<title>The quest...</title>
						<link>http://www.fropper.com/post/22679</link>
						<description><![CDATA[   When Malati overheard Aajji, her Grand mother, telling Malati&rsquo;s Mother to stitch a dress for her, from one of her Paithanis, she felt like dancing. She loved the sheen of the silky sari very much and dreamt of wearing one like that, when she would be big enough. The design on the border had a row of peacocks and when Aajji wore the sari and walked; they appeared as if following each other in a motion. She took one spin in mid air and ran towards the verandah with joy!   Grandma had a lot of saris, mostly with heavy embroidery. The sari she was talking about was nine meter in length and had worn in its hue and colour. The silver threads interspersed over the sari had lost their sheen too, making them look like a woman past her glory. Aajji suggested, she stitch a Parkar-Polka, for Malati, a dress that consisted of a short skirt-like with a short, half-sleeved blouse, that&rsquo;s tailored to fit as one with the skin. Malati was ecstatic upon hearing this, as it was a long time since no new dress was stitched for her. But there was one more reason for her happiness.   Now that Aajji would be staying with her other son in the big city for three months, at least this new dress would keep her memories and that peculiar smell of Aajji, afresh. Malati, the only child to her parents, was Aajji&rsquo;s favourite grand child. Round faced with eyes that spoke a million words, fair, but more importantly sharp minded. Malati loved her Aajji and there was hardly anything that Malati didn&rsquo;t like about her. Yes, she was very short tempered but Malati never felt any fear, when Aajji would occasionally go in to such a fit. And when she did, Malati would stand in a corner silently or just watch her from behind a door.  She remembered the times she spent with her Aajji. Malati would often ask questions that were beyond any girl of her age, she was just six. As the sun was setting over the horizon, the sky a pale shade of pink, birds flying in formation back home. Her Aajji was sitting in the verandah making wicks for the Diyaas. Malati, sitting at her feet had this question in her mind and without hesitation, she asked.  &ldquo;Aajji, what is death?&rdquo;  Grandma took a deep breath and said&hellip;  &ldquo;Have you seen withered leaves fall from the tree? Death is like that. Old gives place to the new.&rdquo;  &ldquo;But I have seen fresh leaves falling too&hellip;!&rdquo; Malati added hurriedly.  &ldquo;True my child, that happens too but it&rsquo;s not death in that instance. The leaves that fall while immature are the ones which have given up fighting for life I guess&hellip;&rdquo; Aajji tried to explain&hellip;  Malati would often ask such questions and Grandma would always answer them for her. She had seen her friend&rsquo;s grandma shunning such questions with a curt, &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t try to be over smart, have you done your studies?&rdquo; or &ldquo;There is a time and age to think about such things&hellip;&rdquo; They shared a bond that crossed all frontiers of age.   It was a warm day, with Holi round the corner. Malati was playing in the verandah, when she heard a murmur of some people outside. Casually she peeped to see what it&rsquo;s about and was shocked to see some men making preparations to fell a tree down. Her mouth agape, she fixed her stare on them, until one of them looked at her in a manner that silenced her.  She ran inside the house with a pounding heart and collapsed in the arms of her Aajji. Aajji held her close for a moment; then asked what had happened. Her face reddened with sadness and fear, Malati could barely speak a word.   &ldquo;They have come to fell a tree!&rdquo; she stammered.   &ldquo;The rascals!&rdquo; Aajji&rsquo;s voice boomed in the house. Malati could sense a tremble in her voice, which worried her even more. As she knew her Aajji was about to go in to another fit of anger and those people will soon have to reckon with her wrath. Surprisingly, she kept quiet. Still holding Malati close, she squatted on the floor, exhausted. Quickly Malati got up to fetch some water for her. The eruption of Aajji&rsquo;s anger was nothing new to her, this sudden silence was. But she couldn&rsquo;t gather courage to ask her at that moment. May be some other time, she thought and one day she did ask&hellip;  As if to gather courage, Malati swallowed&hellip;  &ldquo;Aajji&hellip;&rdquo; she began, in doubt.  &ldquo;What is it dear&hellip;?&rdquo; Aajji asked without looking up.  &ldquo;No, nothing actually&hellip;&rdquo; Malati&rsquo;s voice was a mere quiver and her grandma knew what it was that she would want to ask.  &ldquo;You see my child, those men are rouges and I didn&rsquo;t want any trouble in my absence, you know I will be away for some days&hellip;&rdquo;  &ldquo;Hmm&hellip;&rdquo; Malati nodded as if in agreement.   Aajji was packing her bags, to go to the big city for three months and Malati&rsquo;s eyes were welling up already. How could she stay without her, she wondered. Sensing this, Aajji held her hand, her touch wilted yet comprehending. Malati could not stop the tears now. Clinging to her grandma, she cried, holding her dear Aajji close. With great difficulty Aajji held Malati away from her.   &ldquo;I am not going away forever dear, I shall be back soon, you will see&rdquo;. Wiping her tears, she said. But that was the last time Malati saw her Aajji alive. With a heavy heart she bid goodbye to her.  Malati was standing in the balcony of her home in Mumbai. &ldquo;Where has life brought me now?&rdquo; she thought to herself. There&rsquo;s nothing she can ask anymore, only answer, be answerable. To her husband, her children, her family, the world. She was tired of going through life this way.   She missed those days spent at the feet of her dear grandma, when as a six year old, she could ask questions. The sun was setting on the horizon and the birds were going home, in a formation. Yes, she thought to her self, it&rsquo;s time to ask questions once again. But this time, she would ask those questions to her own self.  ]]></description>
						 <pubDate>Mon,  6 Oct 2008 12:37:40 +0000</pubDate>
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						<title>Up in smoke...?</title>
						<link>http://www.fropper.com/post/22412</link>
						<description><![CDATA[The new (?) ban on cigarette smoking in Public places will be raising a lot of  and question marks as well. First, I decided to write a thought provoking blog about it. But later thought, &quot;I must leave that to the seriously thinking bloggers. Small sacrifice&quot;. 
 
So here is my take on this new agenda of &quot;No smoking in Public places&quot;. Cheers!  Ooops! Sorry or else they might ban drinking of booze too!!! 
 
TO SMOKE OR NOT TO SMOKE! 
 
That is a dilemma all smokers must be in, (including me) now a days. Because ban on smoking in Public places does not mean ban on smoking! The cigarette companies will continue manufacturing and the shops will continue selling them! The dilemma would be for the smokers, not the Cigarette companies or shopkeepers. Because the prohibition is not on cigarette smoking. It is about where NOT to smoke!  
 
That's exactly where there&rsquo;s a big  confusion! As all the prohibited areas are the ones that we all are in, every day. So where&rsquo;s THAT place, where the smokers can enjoy a good smoke, I wonder. I remember a Shayari of Mirza Ghalib here... 
 
One day Mirza was sitting in a Masjid drinking booze (Can you imagine?), When the Mulla saw it, he reminded Mirza that a Masjid is a place where HE is and he must not drink booze, where there&rsquo;s presence of Him. And this is what Mirza Ghalib said to him&hellip; 
 
Ghalib sharab peene de, Masjid mein baith kar 
Ya aisi jagah bata, jahaan khudaa na ho&hellip; 
 
I won&rsquo;t be surprised if some sharp brain will hire out a place soon, where people can gather for a smoke! And like you have the tracking maps in Mobiles, even the cigarette packets will begin to show maps, addresses of such places, hehe! 
 
And tell me, what all are they going to ban? If the banning spree continues in this fashion, one day the following could happen&hellip; 
 
Ban on hugging&hellip; 
 
We see a lot of people hugging openly don&rsquo;t we? I don&rsquo;t see anything wrong in that but if hugging is banned, how will we express the rush of emotions towards each other? Or may be like there are SEZ's, there would be Special Hugging Zones&hellip;? 
 
Ban on kissing&hellip; 
 
Many youngsters have begun to kiss each other in broad daylight (Thank God, they kiss only each other!) and if there&rsquo;s a ban on that, where will they go to do this enjoyable lip exchange??? 
&nbsp; 
Ban on using foul language&hellip; 
 
These days Oh Fcuk! has become a common expletive (?) among many, will that be banned too? Any ideas about the when and where to mouth such bad words&hellip;?  
 
Ban on loud music&hellip; 
 
Many vehicle owners drive their cars with the sound system going full blast! Just imagine if there is a ban on that too. After all, loud music is injurious to their as well as other&rsquo;s ears right? 
 
I am all for ban on smoking, I really am, trust me. But half-hearted decisions won&rsquo;t be of good to any, do you agree?  
 
P.S. Does this ban mean we won&rsquo;t be able to see that beautiful song from &ldquo;Hum Dono&rdquo; ever again?  
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						 <pubDate>Fri,  3 Oct 2008 13:04:07 +0000</pubDate>
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						<title>The original</title>
						<link>http://www.fropper.com/post/20448</link>
						<description><![CDATA['Kumar' as he was fondly called, was a 'Director's actor'. He studied the character he would be playing and prepared his own notes but in the end leave it to the Director to derive a good performance from him. He was a favorite with critics too, a rarity. 
 
As he entered the car to reach the location for a shoot, he went in to deep thought. Today he would be shooting some stunt sequences. Until some years ago, such sequences would be done by the &lsquo;dummies&rsquo; or &lsquo;duplicates&rsquo;, as they were called, he reminisced. In the earlier part of his career, he too was wary of doing stunts himself but as some actors began to do them on their own, others too followed suit. And Kumar was no exception. In fact it was this ability to ride with the trend that he could keep pace with the changing times. And continue acting with renewed vigor. 
 
The car inched through the slow moving traffic and he could see the small house by the road. He felt a gush of emotion. That was the house where he lived in his struggling years. Even though he shifted to a new house and then in to this bungalow, he retained this small house. It was in this same house that he met Shrutika, now his wife. She was his immediate neighbor and their frequent meetings soon blossomed in to an ever lasting affair. They married three years later.  
 
Shrutika was by his side through the struggling period and took up a job to support the family so Kumar could focus on his ambition of becoming a star. She was more than the 'Light' in his life, as he would fondly mention in the interviews. She was the 'Light house' that guided him through the complexities of life. There had been threats to Kumar's life over the rights of films and music and Shrutika would urge him to be careful. She suggested they tighten the security around the bungalow and also hire private security guards. But Kumar saw no reason to, as he thought such threats were empty.  
 
The beep of his mobile brought Kumar back to his senses. It was Amrit, his secretary. Amrit had been more than a secretary to Kumar. He was elder to him but more than that, he was also a friend of Kumar's father.  
 
&ldquo;Yes Amrit jee, I am reaching the location in another one hour&hellip;&rdquo; 
 
&ldquo;That's the same reason I am calling Kumar, there's a change in the location. I can imagine it's a little troublesome for you but&hellip;&rdquo; 
 
&ldquo;Not to worry Amrit jee! It's okay&hellip; Tell me, where is it going to be now?&rdquo; 
 
&ldquo;It's at Malad creek, very close from where it was supposed to be&hellip; Remember we shot the song from 'Dilwala' there?&rdquo; 
 
&ldquo;Yes of course I remember! That's, right? Ok, will be there soon. Are you also coming?&rdquo; 
 
&ldquo;Ya, I am here already! Will wait for you&rdquo;. 
 
&ldquo;Ok sir! Bye&rdquo;. 
 
Kumar heaved a sigh. He was looking forward to today's shoot and was glad to know it wasn't postponed. 
 
Rajeev was a great fan of Kumar and today his dream to see his idol in person would be fulfilled. He waited for his exams to get over, so he could go to Mumbai to his favorite perform. He was in Mumbai since past week and went from one studio to another, to get a glimpse of him but to no avail. Just the other day he came to know that Malad creek was a hot spot for shooting and so he decided to go see if he can locate Kumar there.  
 
As Kumar reached the location, a small crowd had gathered. He was greeted by the unit and as he settled in an armchair, an assistant handed him a cup of coffee and some sheets of paper. He sipped the coffee and began to rehearse the scene.  
 
The first scene required him to come running in to the camera and fall sideways on the ground. After a few retakes, the scene was okayed. Just then, it started to rain. Kumar was rushed to the van standing by. He entered and closed the door behind him. 
 
Rajeev saw some men approaching the van but thinking that they must be some fans of Kumar, mingled with them. Suddenly one of them grabbed hold of him and began to pull him towards a waiting car. He didn't know what was happening and tried to wrestle his way out of their stronghold. He screamed as a hand seized his arm and injected a needle. In about 10 seconds he lost his consciousness. 
 
Sitting atop this dilapidated building, Vijay could view south Mumbai. He had deliberated quite a lot before choosing this under construction structure, to shoot the happenings at Kumar's bungalow. Training his handy cam on the bungalow, he began to shoot the private life of a star. Once these clips get telecast, he would become the star reporter! His mobile rang and he spoke in the cell for over a minute and then switched it off. He didn't need any disturbance hereafter.  
 
It was almost five in the evening, the pale rays of the sun forming designs on the floor. He could clearly see the lawn being watered, a couple of Dogs being taken for a walk, some fans gathered outside the bungalow. The security cabin with armed men guarding the gate and a couple of journalists with their typical nosey gestures. 
 
After a while he could see the white Sedan gliding through the gate of the bungalow. Kumar had returned home. Now Vijay could shoot the star in his private world!  
 
Rajeev tried to open his eyes but couldn't, as he was blindfolded and his hands and legs were tied. He could get a typical smell, that of cow dung. He could also feel dry grass underneath. &ldquo;Could this place be in Goregaon?&rdquo; he thought, as most cow sheds were in that area. But what troubled him most was why was he brought here in the first place and by whom? He tried to recall the incidences that led him here but all he could remember was being lifted by some people and getting a shot in the arm. His world went blank after that. 
 
A door opened somewhere close to where he was and he could hear footsteps approaching. Instinctively he tried going backwards but had no strength to do so. 
 
&ldquo;How are you Kumar?&rdquo; the man asked. 
 
&ldquo;We called you many times but you didn't pay heed. You left us with little choice you know?&rdquo; he continued. 
 
Rajeev wanted to say something but all he could do was murmur. 
 
&ldquo;Hmm&hellip;so you want to say something now, is it?&quot;&rdquo; 
 
&ldquo;It's too late to say anything Kumar. Here, sign these papers and no harm would come to your life&rdquo;. Shoving a bunch of papers and a pen in his hands, he said. 
 
His hands were untied and he signed the papers. 
 
&ldquo;Good!&rdquo; The man seemed pleased, much to the relief of Rajeev. 
 
&ldquo;You can go now but remember one word to the police and&hellip;&rdquo;A voice trailed behind him. He was taken near a railway station and left there to find his own way.  
 
Kumar greeted Rajeev with open arms. He took his hand and led him inside his bungalow. In looks, Rajeev was almost a reflection of Kumar. Same face, same height, same smile. One was reality, the other his representation.  
 
&ldquo;I have been only enacting what my directors told me. You listened to what your heart told you. In an impulse, you could have easily told them you are not the real Kumar but you used your presence of mind and what's more, even signed the papers as Kumar, so they would believe you and let you go!&rdquo;  
 
As Altaaf switched the TV on, he could see Kumar merrily enjoying a swim in the pool in his bungalow. His temper rose to uncontrollable levels and he screamed with anger. 
 
&ldquo;Do you really think these papers are signed by Kumar himself?&rdquo; 
 
&ldquo;You idiots! Stupid fools! You will pay for this goof up with your lives!&rdquo; 
 
&ldquo;The guy you kidnapped was not Kumar, it was his look alike Rajeev!&rdquo; saying this, he collapsed in the chair.  
 
 
 
 
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						 <pubDate>Wed, 27 Aug 2008 18:37:26 +0000</pubDate>
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						<title>The vehicle</title>
						<link>http://www.fropper.com/post/19700</link>
						<description><![CDATA[As she lay in bed, thinking about her husband, she had a sudden gush of emotion and a tear escaped her eyes. Her friends at the office envied Sunita to have a husband who was caring and compassionate. Amit was more than a husband; he was a companion, a partner, a friend. That&rsquo;s what made her feel guilty of hiding the truth from him. But how could she tell him? And even if she did, would he believe her? She was not sure about that. And that&rsquo;s what held her back, each time she made an attempt to tell him. Wiping the tear, she turned on her side and closed her eyes with exhaustion.  She often wondered what that one factor is in her married life that made it so special. Was it love or was it understanding or both? Amit worked with a software company and Sunita was happy to be a housewife. They stayed in a rented bungalow that was in the outskirts of the city. It was specious with a patio and a lawn. Sunita loved nature and was more than happy to be here. Amit would travel by train and often worked late nights, a fact Sunita detested but carried on with life anyway. She was happy to be with him, as in him she found all the joys of life.  They bought a car recently and would go on long drives whenever they could find time. For them, life was one big ride. And they enjoyed each moment. Amit came home one day with the news that his company would be giving him petrol allowance.  &ldquo;That&rsquo;s great indeed&rdquo;. Sunita screamed. Now they could enjoy the rides even more, she thought. Waving the voucher book in the air, he took her in her arms. It was time to celebrate!  It was on Amit&rsquo;s insistence that Sunita finally agreed to learn riding a two wheeler. His old Scooty was lying in the backyard since they bought the car. She could begin to ride it for small chores like shopping, he thought. Amit was very patient as he taught her the basics about how to keep balance and how to rest one leg on the ground while turning. Sunita was a good student but her lethargy to learn to drive the vehicle made her reluctant. Amit could sense that but attributed it to her fear of riding.  He kept consoling her, chiding her by giving encouragement. But each time she would sit on the vehicle, she would leave the handle and keep pushing her legs on the ground inadvertently, as if to take flight. And he would jokingly say,  &ldquo;Suni! You are not flying a plane, it&rsquo;s a two wheeler dear, keep it on the road&rdquo;. And she would break in to laughter and lose her balance. But Amit would hold her firmly, not letting her fall. After eight days of practice, Sunita finally learnt to keep her balance and also learnt to go a small distance alone.  &ldquo;Here. Keep some petrol coupons with you, you will need them now&rdquo;. Handing over the bunch, he said.  &ldquo;So many of them? Just a few would do&rdquo;. Why she would need so many, she thought.  &ldquo;It&rsquo;s alright dear. I have quite many remaining with me still&rdquo;.  &ldquo;Oh! Amit! Wish I could tell you I don&rsquo;t need these coupons&hellip;.&rdquo; Her mind trailed in thought.  She took the bunch against her wish and kept it in the purse.  &ldquo;And yes! We are buying you a new Scooty next month.&rdquo; He exclaimed happily.  As they lay in each others arms that night, Sunita asked him if he was willing to try out something new. Eyes half closed with joy, he agreed. She came over him in an instant and mounted on him, like she would straddle a horse. Letting her hair loose she began to push him, prod him. A moan of happiness escaped his mouth as she began to envelop him with an intensity he had never experienced before. Sunita felt like a queen astride a wild animal unwilling to surrender to her power. She folded her knees and fiercely began to jab him in downward motion. He kept saying something incoherently but she was beyond listening. She was enjoying riding him and she could see in his eyes that he did too. He screamed with joy as he came but she kept thrusting vigorously, until he could take it no more and begged her to stop. She bent down and kissed his chest, then the cheeks, then his lips. They lay that way for some time and slept in the same position until morning.  &ldquo;You still haven&rsquo;t used all the coupons&rdquo;? Looking at the bunch lying on the table Amit asked.  &ldquo;Nothing as such dear, I hardly use the Scooty actually&rdquo;.  &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t tell me!&rdquo; Amit was clearly surprised.  &ldquo;Ya, the market is so close, you know na&rdquo;? She said with a smile.  &ldquo;True but now that you know how to ride, I meant the Scooty&hellip;Why go walking, right?&rdquo; He said mischievously.  &ldquo;And I was planning to buy you a new one this month!&rdquo; He added.  &ldquo;New one?&rdquo; She almost screamed.  &ldquo;Yes my sweet heart, a new one!&rdquo; He said.  &ldquo;Oh! It&rsquo;s okay dear, I am fine with this&rdquo;. She put her arms around him and said.  &ldquo;You sure?&rdquo; He asked.  She just kissed him on his lips and left him speechless.  Sunita got up slowly and went in to the kitchen. Her vehicle stood in a corner. Quietly she went near it, held it under her crotch and mounted on it, just like she had her husband last night. Folding her knees, she lifted her body and began to glide through the kitchen, then the sitting room and finally through the main door.  The vehicle underneath her made a crackling noise. Amit was right when he said she needed a new one, she thought. She landed near a super market on her way and headed straight to the corner where the board read, &lsquo;New arrivals. Brooms from Moldova&rsquo;.  ]]></description>
						 <pubDate>Wed, 13 Aug 2008 14:55:23 +0000</pubDate>
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						<title>Day Eight and Nine...</title>
						<link>http://www.fropper.com/post/19407</link>
						<description><![CDATA[Last weekend was very eventful. I reached the Home around 4.15 in the evening as usual. Most of my students were sleeping as the Unit tests were over and so the pressure was off their minds. It was all very silent except some girls who were either playing with the pet cat or just drooling in an arm chair. Taking a seat, I called one of the girls to wake up the others. Slowly and gradually they all came to me and began chatting up. I told them to get their school bags, so we could begin.   As they were assembling to sit for studies, Madam Mrs. Bardey came in and began talking to me.  Mr. Marathe what is this? You are teaching them Craft only! What about teaching them Marathi&hellip;?  My mouth was agape upon hearing this! And all I could manage to say was&hellip;  What?  Ya&hellip; apparently you are teaching the Hume high school students only&hellip; You are not teaching children from the English medium&hellip;she went on and on&hellip;they have told me so&hellip; I was aghast!  But Madam, there are quite many from other the school who have ignored my plea to come and learn, what I needed to teach&hellip;I said feebly. I was disheartened with her accusation actually speaking. That&rsquo;s how it is with me. If anybody throws a false accusation at me, I feel terribly dejected. And keep silent but let the other person speak.  Somewhere inside me I knew that if I keep quite now, an incorrect meaning would be derived, so I began to speak. I told her in exact words the names of the girls who were absent from my class for almost 3 weeks. I asked her to call them one by one so she could ask them there and then!  The girls came and stood silently. Madam asked them if what I was saying was true but they just stood silently, stuck to the ground. As mentioned earlier, I was feeling dejected any way, so I too kept quiet.   I took their studies for an hour or so but my mind was not up to it. So I wrapped up the evening rather early and went back home.   I don&rsquo;t know if I will continue going to the Home here after. May be I will find another Home where children are more keen to learn. May be I will continue here because there are many other children who wish to learn and will suffer if I stop teaching them, at this point in time.    ]]></description>
						 <pubDate>Thu,  7 Aug 2008 15:41:53 +0000</pubDate>
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						<title>Day Six and Seven...</title>
						<link>http://www.fropper.com/post/18961</link>
						<description><![CDATA[The rains began their downpour at last and Mumbai heaved a sigh of relief. There were many like me&nbsp;  who were overjoyed and many who made faces&nbsp;  looking at the inky sky. I pity those who  can&rsquo;t see the  that waits behind the dark clouds. For them it is that time of the year when they have to wade (for me glide) through the muddy (for me warm brown) waters is eeeeeeks! It is that time of the year when they are forced to carry an umbrella or a wind cheater and also not to forget it on the way back home. I have a suggestion for them...&nbsp;  Why not just walk out without one? Try it once, you won&rsquo;t regret it. Walk in the rains like there is none. And see the difference it can make to your life. 
 
My weekend was great. Enjoyed walking in the rains, sipping hot cups of tea, eating Bhajiyas&nbsp; by the road side. I just love these crunchy little things! But they have to be savoured piping hot. No point eating them cold, that&rsquo;s for sure. (Even while I am writing this, my mouth is watering&hellip;oooooooh! Somebody please get me one more plate&hellip;!  )  
 
 
 
I spent my Saturday and Sunday evenings at the Home. The Unit tests were over so I taught them some Origami. We did a Swan and a Fish and they enjoyed doing it. We played Hangman and a game where one after the other you say numbers like, 1, 2, 3, 4&hellip;but multiples of 5 have to be skipped, like 5, 10, 15, 20 and so on. It was great fun indeed! 
 
I bought note books for all of them for practicing handwriting. A shopkeeper friend of mine sold me the Notebooks at lower rates, a nice gesture on his behalf indeed!  
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						 <pubDate>Mon, 28 Jul 2008 14:56:42 +0000</pubDate>
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