स्वतंत्रता दिवस, खाली बैठा हू, सोचा कुछ लिखा जाए, वैसे तो सोचने की क्षमता को लेफ्ट लिबरल्स के आकाओं ने बड़ी चालाकी से काल कोठरी में डाल दिया है, पर फिर वही गीता याद आ जाती है, कर्म किए जा...
Colors of Life
Life and Times of ADi
Tuesday, September 01, 2020
आखिर यह इकोसिस्टम बला क्या है
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Thursday, April 14, 2011
"Full Circle" [A Short Story]
Sunday, November 28, 2010
An Open Letter to Karan Joher
Dear Karan Johar,
Namaste, how are you. My name is Chironji Lal Khosla. Karan this letter may have a bit of age old crap of My India and Your India, but this is not about generational gap, I am very much from the audience, you make movies for.
OK so another movie arrived “Break ke Baad” and I strongly feel this time I must not procrastinate this long due letter. You must be wondering why I am writing to you. Well, it all started long back and I don’t exactly remember when, and the excuse given was “commercial compulsion” to show the exotic foreign locations to lure my India into the cinema halls. There was a time when cinema was meant as an art of storytelling, gradually as this holy “Commercial Compulsion” started taking over, this art of storytelling factor took a back seat. First it was few songs picturisation which got extended into half the movie being shot on foreign locations and my India was delighted to see beautiful faces running around the Alps of some European heaven, doesn’t even realizing that it was a honey trap.
You know Karan, there is a very thin line between Cinema and Society, both are mirror to each other so we can’t blame if it was society which was being reflected in cinema or it was your cinema which was being reflected into society. I am a commoner and for me cinema means not just entertainment or a way to escape from my world, it is the medium which told me the stories and these are the stories which I will pass on to my children and which will help building the character of mine, my children’s as well of nations. Your bloody “Commercial Compulsion” transformed into “Commercial Greed” and that too in such extent that your movies started a new trend wherein whole story and its characters were based in foreign locations. Yes, karan it was your movies which started this greed and nobody noticed as to how easily you made my India cry over the dying scene of Aman in Kal ho Na Ho, nobody noticed how easily you made my India wait for karwa chouth moon in Kabhi khushi kabhi gham and nobody even noticed the forced family drama in We are Family has nothing to do with my India. I have a valid issue here, why the hell do my India’s stories be based in your India, why the hell Ranbeer Kapoor in Anjaana Anjaani needs a river in Nevada to commit sucide, aren’t my Ganga deep enough. You might be laughing at this point as to what the hell this guy is talking about, but there has to be a limit to your commercial greed. Salaam Namastey, NewYork, Kurbaan, Kabhi alwaidaa na kehna, kal ho na ho, dostana, anjaana anjaani, We are family, My name is Khan and many more, you are just milking the medium with utmost greed and with no respect to it.
I am not against your movies as it’s an independent country and you have all the rights to milk your contacts and make the movies you are comfortable with, But Sir, why not lets base all these crap which you call stories be based in My India. Let Deepika go to Amritsar instead of Australia for a soul searching trip in Break ke Baad, let Aman of Kal ho na ho, die in some Indian Hospital and let the wholesome family of Kabhi khushi kabhi gham live in a palace in my India, we have plenty here. I will not tell you about the story telling aspect of a movie as your movies have nothing to do with that pity thing, and we have plenty of storyteller who entertain us enough without using the tantrums.
I do not know if it going to reach you or not but I am relieved with my agony. I wish one day you will understand that a story can be told effectively with unknown faces and local setup, I am nobody to challenge you.
Yours Truly,
Chironji Lal Khosla.
Monday, July 05, 2010
"that scary night"
“bang, Bang, BANG”. Drop dead silence of the cold wintry night was broken with this heavy voice asking me to open the door. I was just dumb struck, who might it be. Though it was very common for someone to drop at our door at any given hour, as our “Peeli Kothi” was center for every activity, being just yards away from the institute. We were 4 idiots living in there, Bheda “the Bull”, Josh “the lazy perfectionist”, harry “the bespectacled intelligent” and yours truly “the lean villager”, “gawti” as they used to call me. We were very closely knitted bunch of guys at instii, as there were only 30 of us. So the “Peeli kothi” was free lunch home for every hungry stomach, it was bathroom for every stinking fellow, it was a playground for sports frenzy guys, it was bedroom for those afternoon naps, it was the booz bar for those unwarranted celebration of no occasions and above all it was answer to every question you can’t get answered at instii.
“Khol Be, warna darwaza tod dunga” [Open, else I will break the door], I collected my senses and answered in a very confident tone, who’s there?, I knew bull & party are not going to give any ear to this as I was the occupant of the front room of the kothi and declared “darbaan”[gateman] too.
So by the next morning, I was a declared mouse by Shonee, the night intruder, despite giving so many valid excuses, I was the talk of the tea sipping, samosa munching future managers that “gandhi, darr gaya”. All this didn’t go well with Tudu, as I was one of his favorite junior, and he was more than a mentor to me, he kept asking me, “is this all true” and I kept denying. But he was not digesting my excuses and reasons, all he was telling me, why I didn’t open the door on the very first BANG. I could see a deep silence on his face, I knew he was upset.
It was almost midnight, and I heard the familiar sound of Tudu’s MIG-27, his motorcycle. I opened the door and he said “chal, gandhi”. We never used to question him as there was no biological clock in our system at the instii. The motorcycle was running at a constant pace, the engine sound was, all I could hear in that dark wintry night. Suddenly the road appeared unfamiliar; I gathered courage and asked tudu “where are we heading Tudu”.
After about half an hour, we stopped in a dark dead desert. “it’s the old graveyard gandhi” he pointed to a deserted dark gate and told me to go to the one of the corner room of the place. Now I was about to faint, I said Tudu “are you joking, or what” but he was adamant. “If you were not frightened yesterday then show me your courage by going to the corner room alone and I will join you there”, before I could reply, he disappeared in the dark night. I felt numb, a sense of fear was gripping me, I tried to locate him but Tudu was nowhere visible. I heard the familiar voice from the distant room, someone was waving from the dark, “come on gandhi” and I head toward the dark figure.
There he was sitting in that small dingy room with one open window, there was drop dead silence and all I could hear was the cold air waves making deadly sounds. He made me sit beside him, “are you afraid, gandhi”. I try to saw outside the windows and immediately took my eyes away as I saw lot of dark figures out there. Well frankly speaking, I was with tudu and there was no question of being afraid, but to me taking unnecessary and outrageous risk was pointless.
“Why did you took your eyes away from the darkness” and he gave me most beautiful experience of my life. “Fear is always Unknown, just know it and you are fearless, more you take your eyes away from the unknown more you are into the fear of it, just face it and there is no fear”, and I again peeped out of the window. I kept my eyes on each and every dark object and suddenly the view outside appeared very normal, for the first time I could sense it was almost a full moon night and the moonlight was magical outside. The cool wind sound appeared musical to me and tude pointed to each and every object we could see together. He was right, the abstract objects were now clear to my eyes and there was no sense of fear inside. For almost half an hour we sat there and talked about lot of things, and I was clear about the fact “don’t try to run away from the unknown, just face it and you will be fearless”. We were heading back and I was thinking how beautiful all this was, unaware of the fact that life is going to take an instant test…….
My thoughts came to an abrupt end when motorcycle stopped with a screeching sound, tudu tilted the bike and a big stone passed brushing my ear. There stood an insane man with long beard and torn clothes. He screamed and threw another stone, tudu immediately got down from the bike and picked a stone and threw in the opposite direction, and the man ran away making obnoxious sounds. I knew, the confrontation instead of running away was the right thing tudu did. We both laughed and patted each other. I hugged him, I knew this time is never gonna come again and I wanted to live it forever.
"Life is all about identifying the co-incidences"
"Life is all about identifying the co-incidences", I don’t exactly remember where I read it or was it told to me by someone, may be my grandfather must have told me this. So that doesn't mean I seek the co-incidences, but I do notice many a events which shows the path or say which just gives you a hint of a force around us. These simple co-incidences some times are too simple to get noticed and that’s where the trick lies, and more you become aware of this, the path becomes simpler.
So the silence was killing both of us in our minds, the bumpy road was suddenly turned into a smooth drive, no traffic chaos and out of the blue I tuned the local radio station. The final stanza of this beautiful song was being aired:
http://www.radioreloaded.com/tracks/?15052[Listen to it, worth to spare few minutes]
Here are the lyrics of this last stanza: Kabhi tujhko gila mujhse, kabhi mujhko shikayat hai, Magar phirbhi tujhe meri, mujhe teri zaroorat hai, Main ye iqraar karta hoon, main tujhse pyar karta hoon, Zindagi aa raha hoon main. Liye sapne nigahon me, chala hoon teri rahon me Zindagi aa raha hoon main.....
We both smiled and were laughing, yes the ice was broken and there were tears in her eyes. It was just another co-incidence and I was trying to identify it.
Hugs
Adi.
25 Random Things About Me, it was long due....
2. What I like most about myself is my self belief against all odds.
3. I am draping ladies worldwide in Ethnic Indian Wear; I never thought or planned of this.
4. I am not a religious person, but I am a strong devotee of Lord Venkateshwara of TIRUPATI.
5. I have not visited a saloon in past 6 years; I tonsure my head at Tirupati every six month.
6. One of my best experiences of life was when I was taken to an old graveyard in the dark midnight by my Guru to get rid of my fears of Unknown. Thanks Tudu.
7. Thing I don’t like about myself is that I can not last impression in first meeting.
8. I have a very faint memory of my childhood when I was bitten by a snake; I can still visualize a very faint picture of it, though I was a toddler then. My doc says it’s unusual.
9. Sometime I feel like to Quit India, but it’s only sometime.
10. I love tennis, more than cricket.
11. I am a movie buff; I made a short but complete movie titled “How to wear a saree”. I made it for my clients though it was an amateur attempt but I am proud of it.
12. I’ve been interviewed few months back by some unknown podcasting website; I gave it just to get a feel of being interviewed.
13. I am a designer by accident; I myself am very badly dressed person.
14. I am a workaholic; I work almost 18 hours a day.
15. I am completely a foodie, love good cuisines and sometime loves cooking too.
16. One thing I really miss is travelling. I just love going places unheard and unexplored but this routine life seldom gives me chance. I am soon backpacking for a LEH trip on a bike.
17. I have this new passion of collecting DVD’s and my proud possessions are Malgudi Days and Swami. I have almost 100 DVD’s in my collection of different genre.
18. My favorite quote: Every morning deep in Africa a gazelle wakes up, it knows it must run faster than the fastest lion otherwise it would be killed to death. Every morning deep in Africa a lion wakes up, it knows it must outrun the slowest of the gazelle otherwise it would be starved to death. So it doesn’t matter weather you are a gazelle or a lion, the bottom-line is when sun comes up better be running.
19. I don’t believe in astrology, it is for faint hearted people. Sometime I feel, maybe its the otherway round, a non believer of astrology can be a faint hearted.
20. I am strongly influenced by my grandfather; he was a Gandhian and was a true social reformist. He once brought a Child Widow to our home and gave her a room to live until he got her remarried, I was a kid then but now I realize how courageous he was.
21. My wife is the most beautiful and blessed thing happened to me. She is a true Soul mate, incidentally I was reading “The Bridge Across Forever” when I got engaged and I knew she was the one, it was an arranged marriage and I said “Yes” without even meeting her.
22. My long cherished dream is of Bungee Jumping.
23. I feel, I am not a very strong willed person. I am indecisive sometime and I always remember one of my teachers word “Don’t say Yes when you want to say No” after uttering Yes for a No.
24. Another dream is to own a BEETLE car. I don’t know but I love to have one.
25. I am overall a good fellow at heart and it took me almost 3 days to come to complete this list. It’s not an impromptu attempt.
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Entrepreneur, My Foot.....
Here is the summary:
1. There is a Govt. policy called TUFs, which gives subsidies loan to entrepreneurs who wants to start something which involved up gradation of technology in Apparel industry.
2. I planned an Embroidery Unit recently and I applied for a loan of Rs. 1000000.
3. The Govt. Subsidy would have saved me around 1.5 lac at the successful completion of the project.
4. I applied for a loan, which required something to mortgage.
5. I booked the order with a Chinese company and also started my funding preparations assuming everything going to be well & OK.
Bloody, I again forgot that I live in India. The bank officials after taking much time informed me that the mortgage I am providing is not enough as per their valuation so instead I need to put a fixed deposit of 50% of the actual loan amount with them and then they will process the application. The machines arrived on Mumbai port and the pressure was mounting up, I arranged the money somehow and after killing some more time they replied it’s not enough, since there are many cases of defaults and other lame excuses. They now wants a 100% fixed deposit of the actual loan amount I need [it’s not a joke, its true], the demurrage at port was mounting, my machine vendor was threatening of cancelling the order and eating up the advances I paid. I ended up at the doors of local money lenders, now the things are settled but I have spent more then the subsidy I am going to get out of this Loan.
So where I went wrong....
Actually, there are so many touts masquerading as CA's and Financial Consultants. They work as an agent for the bank and its managers and they charge a fix percentage of the loan you require for these kinds of schemes and this share goes to the whole system, from topmost Officials/Politicians to the bottom of the line. In my case had I paid a 7% of the total loan as fee [Rs.70000] to the agent, my home would have valued at whatever they want and the loan would have been sanctioned and this Rs.70000 would have been shared by the whole system.
As I was coming out of the bank manager's room, he said," Mr.Gandhi, I appreciate your efforts and entrepreneurs like you are the need of the hour for our economy". I smiled and said Entrepreneur, My Foot.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
The Day I will never forget...........
Was it really an ‘abject surrender’ by the NDA Government? [Kandhar Hijack "Shame of the nation"]
There have been innumerable communal riots in India, nearly all of them in States ruled by the Congress at the time of the violence, yet everybody loves to pretend that blood was shed in the name of religion for the first time in Gujarat in 2002 and that the BJP Government headed by Mr Narendra Modi must bear the burden of the cross.Similarly, nobody remembers the various incidents of Indian Airlines aircraft being hijacked when the Congress was in power at the Centre, the deals that were struck to rescue the hostages, and the compromises that were made at the expense of India’s dignity and honour. But everybody remembers the hijacking of IC 814 and nearly a decade after the incident, many people still hold the BJP-led NDA Government responsible for the ‘shameful’ denouement. The Indian Airlines flight from Kathmandu to New Delhi, designated IC 814, with 178 passengers and 11 crew members on board, was hijacked on Christmas eve, 1999, a short while after it took-off from Tribhuvan International Airport; by then, the aircraft had entered Indian airspace. Nine years later to the day, with an entire generation coming of age, it would be in order to recall some facts and place others on record. In 1999 I was serving as an aide to Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee in the PMO, and I still have vivid memories of the tumultuous week between Christmas eve and New Year’s eve. Mr Vajpayee had gone out of Delhi on an official tour; I had accompanied him along with other officials of the PMO. The hijacking of IC 814 occurred while we were returning to Delhi in one of the two Indian Air Force Boeings which, in those days, were used by the Prime Minister for travel within the country. Curiously, the initial information about IC 814 being hijacked, of which the IAF was believed to have been aware, was not communicated to the pilot of the Prime Minister’s aircraft. As a result, Mr Vajpayee and his aides remained unaware of the hijacking till reaching Delhi. This caused some amount of controversy later. It was not possible for anybody else to have contacted us while we were in midair. It’s strange but true that the Prime Minister of India would be incommunicado while on a flight because neither the ageing IAF Boeings nor the Air India Jumbos, used for official travel abroad, had satellite phone facilities. By the time our aircraft landed in Delhi, it was around 7:00 pm, a full hour and 40 minutes since the hijacking of IC 814. After disembarking from the aircraft in the VIP bay of Palam Technical Area, we were surprised to find National Security Adviser Brajesh Mishra waiting at the foot of the ladder. He led Mr Vajpayee aside and gave him the news. They got into the Prime Minister’s car and it sped out of the Technical Area. Some of us followed Mr. Vajpayee to Race Course Road, as was the normal routine.On our way to the Prime Minister’s residence, colleagues in the PMO provided us with the basic details. The Kathmandu-Delhi flight had been commandeered by five hijackers (later identified as Ibrahim Athar, resident of Bahawalpur, Shahid Akhtar Sayed, Gulshan Iqbal, resident of Karachi, Sunny Ahmed Qazi, resident of Defence Area, Karachi, Mistri Zahoor Ibrahim, resident of Akhtar Colony, Karachi, and Shakir, resident of Sukkur City) at 5:20 pm; there were 189 passengers and crew members on board; and that the aircraft was heading towards Lahore.At the Prime Minister’s residence, senior Ministers and Secretaries had already been summoned for an emergency meeting. Mr Mishra left for the crisis control room that had been set up at Rajiv Bhavan. In between meetings, Mr Vajpayee instructed his personal staff to cancel all celebrations planned for December 25, his birthday. The Cabinet Committee on Security met late into the night as our long vigil began.Meanwhile, we were informed that the pilot of IC 814 had been denied permission to land at Lahore airport. With fuel running low, he was heading for Amritsar. Officials at Raja Sansi Airport were immediately alerted and told to prevent the plane from taking off after it had landed there.The hijacked plane landed at Amritsar and remained parked on the tarmac for nearly 45 minutes. The hijackers demanded that the aircraft be refuelled. The airport officials ran around like so many headless chickens, totally clueless about what was to be done in a crisis situation. Desperate calls were made to the officials at Raja Sansi Airport to somehow stall the refuelling and prevent the plane from taking off. The officials just failed to respond with alacrity. At one point, an exasperated Jaswant Singh, if memory serves me right, grabbed the phone and pleaded with an official, “Just drive a heavy vehicle, a fuel truck or a road roller or whatever you have, onto the runway and park it there.” But all this was to no avail.The National Security Guards, whose job it is to deal with hostage situations, were alerted immediately after news first came in of IC 814 being hijacked; they were reportedly asked to stand by for any emergency. The Home Ministry was again alerted when it became obvious that after being denied permission to land at Lahore, the pilot was heading towards Amritsar.Yet, despite IC 814 remaining parked at Amritsar for three-quarters of an hour, the NSG commandos failed to reach the aircraft. There are two versions as to why the NSG didn’t show up: First, they were waiting for an aircraft to ferry them from Delhi to Amritsar; second, they were caught in a traffic jam between Manesar and Delhi airport. The real story was never known!The hijackers, anticipating commando action, first stabbed a passenger, Rupin Katyal (he had gone to Kathmandu with his newly wedded wife for their honeymoon; had they not extended their stay by a couple of days, they wouldn’t have been on the ill-fated flight) to show that they meant business, and then forced the pilot to take off from Amritsar. With almost empty fuel tanks, the pilot had no other option but to make another attempt to land at Lahore airport. Once again he was denied permission and all the lights, including those on the runway, were switched off. He nonetheless went ahead and landed at Lahore airport, showing remarkable skill and courage.Mr Jaswant Singh spoke to the Pakistani Foreign Minister and pleaded with him to prevent the aircraft from taking off again. But the Pakistanis would have nothing of it (they wanted to distance themselves from the hijacking so that they could claim later that there was no Pakistan connection) and wanted IC 814 off their soil and out of their airspace as soon as possible. So, they refuelled the aircraft after which the hijackers forced the pilot to head for Dubai.At Dubai, too, officials were reluctant to allow the aircraft to land. It required all the persuasive skills of Mr Jaswant Singh and our then Ambassador to UAE, Mr KC Singh, to secure landing permission. There was some negotiation with the hijackers through UAE officials and they allowed 13 women and 11 children to disembark. Rupin Katyal had by then bled to death. His body was offloaded. His widow remained a hostage till the end.On the morning of December 25, the aircraft left Dubai and headed towards Afghanistan. It landed at Kandahar Airport, which had one serviceable runway, a sort of ATC and a couple of shanties. The rest of the airport was in a shambles, without power and water supply, a trophy commemorating the Taliban’s rule.On Christmas eve, after news of the hijacking broke, there was stunned all-round silence. But by noon on December 25, orchestrated protests outside the Prime Minister’s residence began, with women beating their chests and tearing their clothes. The crowd swelled by the hour as the day progressed.Ms Brinda Karat came to commiserate with the relatives of the hostages who were camping outside the main gate of 7, Race Course Road. In fact, she became a regular visitor over the next few days. There was a steady clamour that the Government should pay any price to bring the hostages back home, safe and sound. This continued till December 30.One evening, the Prime Minister asked his staff to let the families come in so that they could be told about the Government’s efforts to secure the hostages’ release. By then negotiations had begun and Mullah Omar had got into the act through his ‘Foreign Minister’, Muttavakil. The hijackers wanted 36 terrorists, held in various Indian jails, to be freed or else they would blow up the aircraft with the hostages.No senior Minister in the CCS was willing to meet the families. Mr Jaswant Singh volunteered to do so. He asked me to accompany him to the canopy under which the families had gathered. Once there, we were literally mobbed. He tried to explain the situation but was shouted down. “We want our relatives back. What difference does it make to us what you have to give the hijackers?” a man shouted. “We don’t care if you have to give away Kashmir,” a woman screamed and others took up the refrain, chanting: “Kashmir de do, kuchh bhi de do, hamare logon ko ghar wapas lao.” Another woman sobbed, “Mera beta… hai mera beta…” and made a great show of fainting of grief. To his credit, Mr Jaswant Singh made bold to suggest that the Government had to keep the nation’s interest in mind, that we could not be seen to be giving in to the hijackers, or words to that effect, in chaste Hindi. That fetched him abuse and rebuke. “Bhaand me jaaye desh aur bhaand me jaaye desh ka hit. (To hell with the country and national interest),” many in the crowd shouted back. Stumped by the response, Mr Jaswant Singh could merely promise that the Government would do everything possible. I do not remember the exact date, but sometime during the crisis, Mr Jaswant Singh was asked to hold a Press conference to brief the media. While the briefing was on at the Press Information Bureau hall in Shastri Bhavan, some families of the hostages barged in and started shouting slogans. They were led by one Sanjiv Chibber, who, I was later told, was a ‘noted surgeon’: He claimed six of his relatives were among the hostages.Dr Chibber wanted all 36 terrorists named by the hijackers to be released immediately. He reminded everybody in the hall that in the past terrorists had been released from prison to secure the freedom of Ms Rubayya Sayeed, daughter of Mufti Mohammed Sayeed, while he was Home Minister in VP Singh’s Government. “Why can’t you release the terrorists now when our relatives are being held hostage?” he demanded. And then we heard the familiar refrain: “Give away Kashmir, give them anything they want, we don’t give a damn.”On another evening, there was a surprise visitor at the PMO: The widow of Squadron Leader Ajay Ahuja, whose plane was shot down during the Kargil war. She insisted that she should be taken to meet the relatives of the hostages. At Race Course Road, she spoke to mediapersons and the hostages’ relatives, explaining why India must not be seen giving in to the hijackers, that it was a question of national honour, and gave her own example of fortitude in the face of adversity.“She has become a widow, now she wants others to become widows. Who is she to lecture us? Yeh kahan se aayi?” someone shouted from the crowd. Others heckled her. The young widow stood her ground, displaying great dignity and courage. As the mood turned increasingly ugly, she had to be led away. Similar appeals were made by others who had lost their sons, husbands and fathers in the Kargil war that summer. Col Virendra Thapar, whose son Lt Vijayant Thapar was martyred in the war, made a fervent appeal for people to stand united against the hijackers. It fell on deaf ears. The media made out that the overwhelming majority of Indians were with the relatives of the hostages and shared their view that no price was too big to secure the hostages’ freedom. The Congress kept on slyly insisting, “We are with the Government and will support whatever it does for a resolution of the crisis and to ensure the safety of the hostages. But the Government must explain its failure.” Harkishen Singh Surjeet and other Opposition politicians issued similar ambiguous statements.By December 28, the Government’s negotiators had struck a deal with the hijackers: They would free the hostages in exchange of three dreaded terrorists — Maulana Masood Azhar, Mushtaq Ahmed Zargar and Ahmed Omar Sheikh — facing various charges of terrorism.The CCS met frequently, several times a day, and discussed the entire process threadbare. The Home Minister, the Defence Minister and the Foreign Minister, apart from the National Security Adviser and the Prime Minister, were present at every meeting. The deal was further fine-tuned, the Home Ministry completed the necessary paper work, and two Indian Airlines aircraft were placed on standby to ferry the terrorists to Kandahar and fetch the hostages.On December 31, the two aircraft left Delhi airport early in the morning. Mr Jaswant Singh was on board one of them. Did his ministerial colleagues know that he would travel to Kandahar? More important, was the Prime Minister aware of it? The answer is both yes and no.Mr Jaswant Singh had mentioned his decision to go to Kandahar to personally oversee the release of hostages and to ensure there was no last-minute problem. He was honour-bound to do so, he is believed to have said, since he had promised the relatives of the hostages that no harm would come their way. It is possible that nobody thought he was serious about his plan. It is equally possible that others turned on him when the ‘popular mood’ and the Congress turned against the Government for its ‘abject surrender’.On New Year’s eve, the hostages were flown back to Delhi. By New Year’s day, the Government was under attack for giving in to the hijackers’ demand! Since then, this ‘shameful surrender’ is held against the NDA and Mr Jaswant Singh is painted as the villain of the piece.Could the Kandahar episode have ended any other way? Were an Indian aircraft to be hijacked again, would we respond any differently? Not really. As a nation we do not have the guts to stand up to terrorism. We cannot take hits and suffer casualties. We start counting our dead even before a battle has been won or lost. We make a great show of honouring those who die on the battlefield and lionise brave hearts of history, but we do not want our children to follow in their footsteps.We are, if truth be told, a nation of cowards who don’t have the courage to admit their weakness but are happy to blame a well-meaning politician who, perhaps, takes his regimental motto of ‘Izzat aur Iqbal’ rather too seriously. Written by Kanchan Gupta.
Monday, December 29, 2008
"The Luck Factor"
Writing after a very very long gap, been very busy with life. i found this really nice piece of writing somewhere, posting it here for a great reading:
I set out to examine luck, 10 years ago. Why are some people always in the right place at the right time, while others consistently experience ill fortune? I placed advertisements in national newspapers asking for people who felt consistently lucky or unlucky to contact me. Hundreds of extraordinary men and women volunteered for my research and over the years, have been interviewed by me. I have monitored their lives and had them take part in experiments. The results reveal that although these people have almost no insight into the causes of their luck, their thoughts and behaviour are responsible for much of their good and bad fortune. Take the case of seemingly chance opportunities. Lucky people consistently encounter such opportunities, whereas unlucky people do not. I carried out a simple experiment to discover whether this was due to differences in their ability to spot such opportunities. I gave both lucky and unlucky people a newspaper, and asked them to look through it and tell me how many photographs were inside. I had secretly placed a large message halfway through the newspaper saying: 'Tell the experimenter you have seen this and win $50'. This message took up half of the page and was written in type that was more than two inches high. It was staring everyone straight in the face, but the unlucky people tended to miss it and the lucky people tended to spot it. Unlucky people are generally more tense than lucky people, and this anxiety disrupts their ability to notice the unexpected. As a result, they miss opportunities because they are too focused on looking for something else. They go to parties intent on finding their perfect partner and so miss opportunities to make good friends. They look through newspapers determined to find certain types of job advertisements and miss other types of jobs. Lucky people are more relaxed and open, and therefore see what is there rather than just what they are looking for. My research eventually revealed that lucky people generate good fortune via four principles. They are skilled at creating and noticing chance opportunities, make lucky decisions by listening to their intuition, create self-fulfilling prophesies via positive expectations, and adopt a resilient attitude that transforms bad luck into good. I wondered towards the end of the work, whether these principles could be used to create good luck. I asked a group of volunteers to spend a month carrying out exercises designed to help them think and behave like a lucky person. Dramatic results! These exercises helped them spot chance opportunities, listen to their intuition, expect to be lucky, and be more resilient to bad luck. One month later, the volunteers returned and described what had happened. The results were dramatic: 80 per cent of people were now happier, more satisfied with their lives and, perhaps most important of all, luckier. The lucky people had become even luckier and the unlucky had become lucky. Finally, i had found the elusive 'luck factor'. Here are four top tips for becoming lucky: 1) Listen to your gut instincts ^ they are normally right. 2) Be open to new experiences and breaking your normal routine. 3) Spend a few moments each day remembering things that went well. 4) Visualise yourself being lucky before an important meeting or telephone call. Have a Lucky day and work for it. The happiest people in the world are not those who have no problems, but those who learn to live with things that are less than perfect.
Hugs
Adi