Sunday, 9 October 2016


I shall now get into the realm of ‘tackling loneliness.’


Among other meanings, loneliness simply means the state of being alone. Some synonyms of this word are isolation, solitariness, forlornness, desolation, aloneness, lonesomeness, friendlessness, and reclusiveness.

Each is more depressing than the previous, isn’t it?

How, why, and when does one become lonely?


Loneliness in old age is a punishment, a curse, be it a man or woman. It depresses and leads to other problems. Let me take you through the labyrinthine issue as I see and experience it.


Almost five decades ago, I came across the following … ah … humorous (= cynical?) quote (author unknown) in Reader’s Digest. It goes thus, to the best of my memory.

“Keep your company to yourself. If you cannot tolerate it, why inflict it on others?”

I feel it is a cynical view of the issue. A question springs to my mind immediately.

Is it for me to judge my company, its effect, its quality, and its worth?


‘Company’ is the state when two or more people are together. When I am on my own, there is no ‘company’.

I may harbour a low opinion of myself, an inferiority complex, sort of. Nevertheless, contrary to my opinion, others may find my company acceptable, pleasurable, knowledgeable, etc. We are often plagued by our own daemons, which others may not concur with.

However, I draw an entirely different meaning from the quote, a meaning that goes a long way in supporting my arguments on the issue. The key words are ‘tolerate’ and ‘inflict’. These words must inspire us to make our company tolerable where others may not feel it inflicted upon them.

The quality of one’s company can be judged by its effect on others in the company (oneself, in case one is alone). The effect could be the pleasure derived, the entertainment distributed, the knowledge or information disseminated. However, if one were all by oneself, all these would be incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial (as Perry mason would have put it); then enters the all-important factor of time.

How does one spend time when one is alone?


They say that, in the West, lonely people go to psychiatrists when they feel the urge to talk to someone!

Does it mean that one needs company only when one wants to talk to someone?

No, that is the sad part of it. Simply put, one needs company to interact with, to belong to, and to seek comfort from.

All these vanish when one retires or when one loses one’s spouse or some other circumstances. One is by oneself, often not knowing what to do with all the time in the world. This is where the quality of ‘company’ springs up. When one is destined with few friends then one is destined to spend time by oneself, period.

How does one spend ‘all the time in the world’?

Obviously, one cannot stare at a wall throughout the waking hours. Daily chores and obligatory visits to grocers and doctors, and entertainment (whatever entertains one) would take a small portion of one’s waking hours. What about the rest?

The importance of multifarious activities, avocations, and hobbies shows itself at this point. These could include reading, writing, drawing, music, gardening, meditation and yoga, movies and theatre, photography, cooking, and a horde of others.

Another fulfilling activity is involvement in social service. This may be at homes for physically and mentally challenged children, orphanages, old-age homes, or voluntary services in hospitals.

Such activities help one keep busy and spend one’s time creatively and constructively. Incidental to this is the satisfaction of giving something back to the society that has given one so much.

If one does not involve oneself in some such activity or activities one has a huge problem on one’s hand. One does not acquire these ‘skills’ suddenly after retirement. One needs to acquire them. One needs to train oneself. One needs to prepare oneself before hand for one’s future, for one does not know what is in store in the future.


During my over-six-decade long sojourn on this beautiful planet, I have observed numerous educated, talented, and creative people suffer silently and wither away unable to tackle their sad solitude.

I conclude that it has nothing to do with the qualities I have listed; it is despite them. A taxi driver, a maidservant, or a vegetable vendor may cope with it better than a ‘qualified’ person may.

Another revelation for me is that women cope with it better than men do.

What is special about them?

It is their resilience. For them, work is life and life is work. There is no ‘retirement’ per se for them, unless they are incapacitated. They are physically busy and hence, have less or no time for brooding.

However, to assume that they are not susceptible to solitude would be inhumanly erroneous. In a scenario where they lose their spouses or soul mates for some reason, they, too, are affected, but their work, their responsibilities, and physical activity gives them less time to brood.

Nevertheless, even in their case, it will be a different scenario altogether when it comes to emotional loneliness.


Thus far, I travelled through the problem of physical and cerebral loneliness. One can deal with these, with some preparation. There is another kind of loneliness, which is impossible to resolve by anyone.

It is the emotional loneliness.

This is caused and sustained by the loss of one’s beloved spouse, soul mate, or partner. The physical and cerebral void can be filled by all the above-mentioned activities.

How does one fill the emotional void?

The affected person must accept it as the inevitable cosmic truth and move on with life.

More often than not, such a catastrophe shatters and devastates a person. One does not know what to do or where to look for solace to the ravaged soul. All the knowledge and all the avocations will not bring even a semblance of solace.

Here, there is no substitute for company of the near and dear, helping the affected person through the crushing crisis in the short run, and ease the person into a livable routine in the long partner-bereft run. Let us agree that LIFE WILL NEVER BE THE SAME for the shattered person. However, the person’s life, what is left of it, can be made livable by the near and dear.

This is where the company of one’s family members becomes important and essential. Under such calamity, one will understandably seek the company and compassion of one’s family. With compassionate and kind words and deeds, they can guide the person through the devastation.

Everyone is aware that the dead cannot be brought back and that fond memories of a happy past are the only treasure left. The family, or what is left, must rejoice in the company of one another drawing from this treasure.

The company must caress with a soothing hand and bring a modicum of comfort to the devastated elderly soul.

Is this the end of the topic? Certainly not.

This is a timeless topic. The issue will continue among others whose shattered souls need solace.


In conclusion, I shall add my favourite quote on ‘work’.


He is nothing, he can do nothing, he can achieve nothing, fulfill nothing, without working. If you are poor – work. If you are rich – continue working. If you are burdened with seemingly unfair responsibilities – work. If you are happy – keep working. Idleness gives room for doubt and fears. If disappointments come – work. If your health is threatened – work. When faith falters – work. When dreams are shattered and hope seems dead – work. Work as if your life were in peril. It really is. No matter what ails you – work. Work faithfully. Work with faith. Work is the greatest remedy available for mental and physical afflictions.


An ocean it may be, but it all starts with a droplet, right?


Wednesday, 5 October 2016


The old man rings the doorbell and waits for a few seconds – by the force of habit of four decades. He sighs, reaches into his trouser pocket, produces a latchkey, and opens the main door.

Silent solitude salutes him, instantly.

He steps inside, shuts the door behind him, and walks into the stunning, palpable loneliness.


At sixty, the retirement age of Indian Central Government Services, he is old, and just retired; it is his last working day. He is yearning to talk to someone. He must unburden the chaos of mixed emotions wreaked by the solemn and life-altering moment. He cannot talk to his soul mate since she passed away some time ago.

He sits in front of the TV with a cup of instant coffee – filter-brewed decoction is a thing of the past, gone with his soul mate.

Finishing his cup of coffee, he contemplates calling his son in London. Missing his ever-attentive wife and yearning to speak to someone about the profound moment of his life, he dials his son’s number. He lets the phone ring twice and replaces the handset on the base…

…and waits for his son to call him.


The landline rings gently.

He picks up and says, “Hello.”

“Dad, you called?”

It is his son in London. The matter-of-factness of the tone and the greeting are upsetting.

No, ‘Hi, dad,’ or ‘How are you, dad?’

“I have retired, today, son. Had your mom been here…”

“Oh, congrats, dad, you can now put up your feet and enjoy life.”

“Your mom…”

“Dad…dad…I’m going home; can’t talk while driving; will try and call in the night. Bye.”

“Bye,” but the call is already terminated.

He sighs.


“Hello, dad.”

It is his daughter in Mumbai.

“Yeah. Listen …”

“Make it quick, dad. I’ve got guests coming for dinner; I’m in the middle of cooking now; I am tensed …”

“I am ‘tense’ not ‘tensed’ …”

“Oh God, dad, now, of all times!”

“Today was my last working day; I’ve retired. Had your mom been here …”

“Congrats, dad. Now you can enjoy your life; don’t have to run anywhere …”

“I need to talk to someone…”

“Call, bhayya, dad. I’ll call in the night. Okay? Bye, I love you, dad.”

Tears well in his eyes as the line goes dead.


This is the typical scenario of a typical old retiree. He is retired. He has lost his soul mate. He is lonely. He seeks the solace of a few kind words from his family, what is left of it.

Life has changed. The essence of the term ‘family’ has changed, almost unrecognisably, from the ‘undivided family’ or ‘joint family’ of yore. It has gone ‘nuclear’ now.

Life was easy; living was easy in a joint family, both for the old and young. Not just monetary and material resources, responsibilities and emotions were shared, too, a sort of ’all for one and one for all’ scenario.

Sons with their spouses lived with parents, grandparents, and other elders. The children and grandchildren would never run out of emotional security and support of the elders, the gentle imparting of familial and cultural values by grandparents, the knowledge-building efforts by the uncles and aunts.

The elderly were in caring company of their children and grandchildren. There would always be someone seeking their advice, drawing from the wealth of their experience, wanting to talk to them. They were never alone, in happiness or sorrow.

Simply, if one had a problem, one was not alone.

All this seems to be a thing of the past. The joint family concept is gone, forever, except for a few pockets in our country.

Nonetheless, must it become an excuse for insouciant indifference? I have strong feelings on this issue.

Indelibly etched on my heart and soul are the struggle my mother, widowed in the 1950s, underwent in bringing up my younger brother (who has since died) and me. Personally devastated, emotionally shattered, and financially precarious, she still found courage from the inner most recesses of her persona to guide us through the toughest phase of our lives. That being the case, it was binding upon me to care for her in every possible way when I ‘settled’ in my life and I did.


Every generation runs a relay race called ‘life’, receiving the baton of responsibility from the previous generation and, later, handing the baton to the next.

What do our elders need - wealth, property, automobiles, or trinkets?


Attention. Caring words. Compassion. Understanding. Wee bit time.

Same needs as those of their offspring, which they selflessly fulfilled attentively, caringly, compassionately, and understandingly.

Same security as what they provided to their offspring.

Lack of understanding of this sensitive aspect wreaks havoc with lives of the elderly leaving them to feel unwanted and uncared for.

Elders of the family, just like the children, need to be reassured that their children and grandchildren need them, want them, that they are not yesterday’s newspapers, that they play an important role in family affairs.

This must be done in all sincerity, not sham.

Children must realise the importance of elders. Parents and grandparents are needed not just when things go wrong. Their role is not that of babysitters or housekeepers. They render all these succours willingly and, in return, expect nothing but a kind word, a wee bit of attention. They are still entities with feelings, sensitivities, mood swings, in fact, the whole gamut of emotions.

They are the entities who moulded their children’s lives. They selflessly sacrificed so that their children could have a life. They ungrudgingly gave up on sleep to comfort a crying newborn. They unconditionally tended their offspring oblivious to their own frail health.

It is an emotive issue and one needs to handle it with utmost sensitivity.

There is something profound, pregnant, and poignant about it.

There is something Indian about it!

Let’s cherish it.

One needs to give happiness in order to find happiness oneself.


(To be continued in OLD AGE and LONELINESS – II)

Monday, 3 October 2016


दिल को जिस का डर था वह पल-ए-हक़ीक़त आगया।
ता ज़िन्दगी जिस से भागते थे वह पल-ए-फैसला आगया।

विटामिन खाते थे, वर्ज़िश करते थे, पूजा में फूलों के हार चढाते थे।
उस पल-ए-बेरहम को दूर धकेलने क्या क्या हथखंडे नहीं करते थे।

कुछ अधूरे फ़र्ज़ निभाने हैं। कुछ दिली सपने मुकम्मल करने हैं।
कुछ प्यार-ओ-मोहब्बत बाक़ी है। कुछ लाड़-ओ-दुलार बाक़ी है।


बेरहम वक़्त रुका कब था? ईमानदार तक़दीर झुका कब था?
मिन्नतों के बावजूद, वह पल-ए-अंजाम-ओ-हिसाब आगया।


Wednesday, 28 September 2016

तू आई

हल्कीसी पुहार पड़ी
इंद्रधनुष प्रकट हुआ
चमेली की महक उठी
एहसास हुआ तू आई।

दांतो में ऊँगली दबाये
होंठों पर मुस्कान छिपाये
आँखों में शरारत उठाये
मेरे क़रीब तू आई।

हिरन ने नज़र चुराई
कोयल पर चुप्पी छायी
हंस की चाल लड़खड़ाई
जब दबे पांव लेकर तू आई।

अंगूठेसे रंगोली बनाते
आँखों से इश्क़ झलकाते
इशारों में इज़हार करते
मेरी आगोश में तू आई।

बाँहों के झूले में मुझे झुलाने
बेरंग दुनिया को रंगीन बनाने
कड़वी ज़िन्दगी में मिठास घोलने
मुझमें विलीन होने तू आई ।


Monday, 26 September 2016

तेरी बज़्म

अब वो तू कहाँ जो तेरी बज़्म सजे, और
वो बज़्म कहाँ जिस से तेरा दीवाना चला जाये?

अब वो शम्मा कहाँ जो महफ़िल में जले, और
वो परवाना कहाँ जो शम्मा में मिटे?

तेरी बेवक़्त रुखसत से सब कुछ तबाह हो गया, बस

रहगए तेरा आशिक़ दीवाना, और जलने को तरसता वो परवाना ।


Friday, 23 September 2016

समझौता (डोंट एक्सप्रेस)

पैसों के हिसाब किताब में रुपया छूट गया।
आटा दाल का मोल तोलते रोटी छूट गयी।
तू तू मैं मैं की अहं बहस में शादी छूट गयी।
जीवन के तथ्यों के चलते सपने छूट गए
मुद्दों से समझौता करते असूल छूट गए।
जीने के तर्कों को समझते जीवन छूट गया।
ज़िन्दगी से समझौता करते आप छूट गया।
इन "पहले आप" के समझौतों में गाड़ी छूट गयी।


Wednesday, 21 September 2016


Three of my novels viz. “Dance of life”, “Intersections”, and “Soul Mate” have been published as one book under one title, “Dance of life”. The reception that the book had is quite another story.

What I am asking is …

Is it the end-all? Have I achieved it?

Has my much-trumpeted journey into the world of writing ended by that single accomplishment?



Knowledge-seeking and learning are endless processes.

In that sense, my journey has not ended but it has barely begun … and I still have three fully-ready novels to publish (heh … heh …)

The last one was in a lighter vein, folks (sigh … for a little more sense of humour).

I continue to write.

I continue to learn.

I write better.

I stated, ‘I continue to learn.’

What do I mean by ‘learn’? Do I learn the alphabets, the words, the sentence, the syntax, the grammar (oh, those sadists, Wren & Martin), the figures of speech, the paraphrasing, the writing of poetry, or the writing of stories?


The answer is, ‘Everything.’


The phrase “Writing (or some other creative form of expression) is my passion” is much bandied about, in a casual and nonchalant manner.

English lexicon says, passion means, inter alia,

  • Boundless enthusiasm: e.g. His skills as a player don't quite match his passion for the game.
  • The object of such enthusiasm: e.g. Soccer is her passion.

Mere wanting to write cannot be dubbed passion. Mere enthusiasm to write cannot be dubbed passion. There must exist, boundless enthusiasm for writing, boundless because any passion worth its salt is based upon endless learning.

Passion makes you hone your skills at writing, improve upon your vocabulary and expression, delve deep into the chosen topic, espouse uncharted subject matters, live alongside the dramatis personae laughing, crying, rejoicing, grieving with them. (To understand the emotions at play and my feelings at the conclusion of a story, read MY JOURNEY INTO THE WORLD OF WRITING – IV .)

Passion exposes you to the myriad writing stars bedecking the literature sky. It lets you enjoy and imbibe their skills. This is an essential and unavoidable aspect of the learning process. An aspiring writer would avoid this aspect at his or her own peril.


One who has taken to writing would be doing so in a language, which may or may not be one’s mother tongue. Let us take my example. I was always interested in learning languages and the thirst and thrust continued into and beyond my post-graduation. I’ll let you in on one of my secrets.

My mother tongue is Telugu. Despite being born and brought up in then Madras, my reading and writing abilities in the language were next to none, while my comprehension and speaking abilities were excellent. I was a movie lover and used to watch all the posters pasted on the walls enthusiastically. One poster intrigued me no end. The title of the Tamil movie had four characters in it, it seemed. However, the pronunciation of the title gave sound of only three letters! I was hell bent on unravelling the mystery of the title.

I pestered all those in my family who had some knowledge of Tamil language. An elder sister of mine educated me on the mystery.

The intriguing title was மாதவி, MADHAVI, मादवि:

In English - MADHAVI. This, divided into possible syllables would be MA-DHA-VI (only three although number of alphabets is seven.)

In Tamil – மாதவி. Again, divided into possible syllables, this would be மா-த-வி (only three although number of seeming alphabets is four, மா counted as two by innocent me, whereas it was one. The second half of the letter gives length to the sound ம.)

Thus began my peregrination into a beautiful Indian language, called Tamil, தமிழ். I began my journey through movie wall posters!

Now, don’t ask me why there are only three letters when written in Tamil, while there are five alphabets when written in English. If you are really interested, really have a passion, delve deep into it.


Phew … that was quite something, wasn’t it?

Let me go to secret #2!

My first job posting was at Lucknow, Uttar Pradesh, in March 1974 (most of you weren’t even born then!) It was my first crossing of the Tropic of Cancer! Again, my knowledge of the spoken language, Hindi, was zero. Other than humming popular Hindi songs, most of the time not knowing the meaning of the lyrics, I had never spoken or written a single sentence outside of my compulsory school subject of Hindi. (Pssst … a secret within a secret! I failed in Hindi in my SSLC board examination, but passed in the board examination. You see, only the subject of Hindi was compulsory not passing in the exams!)

When I set foot on UP soil, I was completely unaware of the intricacies of the language and the chaos wreaked upon my unsuspecting mind by the missing neuter gender of the language!

Those days, there was a popular song, which goes thus, गाडी बुला रही है…” from the film “दोस्त”, soulfully rendered by none other than the inimitable किशोर कुमार.

I understood that it meant, “The train beckons you…” My innovative spirit started working overtime and went into overdrive.

One day, when food was ready, I called my bachelor roommate to come and have lunch, thus.

खाना बुला रही है.”

It does not require a PG degree in rocket science to imagine that I was skinned alive, well almost, that is.

Another of my gems was,

क्या कर रही हो?”

There was nothing wrong with the sentence – the syntax, the punctuation, etc., if I had posed the question to a girl friend (by the way, I never had any). What was wrong was the context. I posed this question to my friend and roommate who was a ‘he’! (There wasn’t any skin left for him to peel away!)

I learnt the hard way that I should have asked, क्या कर रहे हो?”

I had huge problem in understanding the अपना. It is used universally! मैं अपना, तुम अपना, आप अपना.

The essence of my verbal diarrhoea is that I knew next to nothing about genders in Hindi. However, within a year, the story was entirely different. I strove and struggled so hard to improve my Hindi prowess that my colleague in the office happily gave up and donated his Hind-English dictionary to me, even if only to escape my torture. (I used to bombard him with a deluge of linguistic and etymological doubts. I still cherish it, the dictionary I mean. Can’t say the same about the perceived torture.)

My passion made me progress rapidly and, within the next decade, a Hindi-speaking office colleague at Nagpur declared to other Hindi-speaking office colleagues that they should be ashamed that I, despite being a south Indian, was proficient enough to teach them intricacies of Hindi!

Well, so much for passion.

Most of us have opted for writing, seriously at that, in a language that is not our mother tongue. That makes it even more difficult to pursue our passion. It becomes important and imperative that we do it properly and correctly, well, as properly and as correctly as humanly possible.

If we were writing for our own journal, it would be all right, but when our target (pardon the unavoidable pun) is international, multi-culture, multi-lingual readers, we must be very careful in the whats and hows of our writings.

There is no gainsaying that the subject matter (be it a story, a news report, or a poem) is writer’s prerogative. So is the style of narration. One can choose the topic one wants to write about. One can create one’s own style of narration. There is no set of international or local rules binding these aspects.

However, one has to follow the rules of the language one has chosen to tell one’s story in - the grammar, the syntax, the figures of speech, etc. There is no escaping from it. A shoddy writing begets a bad response. Faulty language, with flawed grammar and syntax, incorrect spellings, erroneous expressions, will only elicit the disgust of the reader resulting in bad reviews and plummeting sales.


In conclusion, I would like to add that, with the support systems available on the Net – the dictionaries, the thesauruses, the translating software, the search and research engines – the writer’s task is rendered that much easy. Let us make full use of these facilities to produce better works.


I dedicate this sixth lap of my journey to all writers, aspiring or established, and to all readers, without whose appreciation my writings, nay, scribbling would be confined to my personal nocturnal journals that will never see the light of the day.

Adieu until the next lap …


Teaser-trailer …

Writer’s pitfalls …

Oops, I didn’t see that …

Et tu, Pit! Then fall, Shyam.

aaah …


Monday, 19 September 2016

YOU, I, and LOVE

We are made for each other
We are mad for each other
I realise it now
Let’s go where there’s nobody but we!

You have tried to tell me
That you deeply loved me
I realise it now
Lets’ go where the sky meets the earth!

The sky is our only bower
No meaning for the hour
I realise it now
Let’s go where it’s all silent serenity!

Let us, Adam and Eve, not sin
Perish ye, the apple forbidden
I realise it now
Let’s go where it’s all garden of Eden!

Your gentle voice would whisper
Myriad sweet nothings in my ear
I realise it now
Let’s go where it’s only sweet sound of love!

I can’t live a day without seeing you
I’m a petal, you a drop of fresh dew
I realise it now
Let’s be lost in Mother Nature resplendent!

When I walk the long street at night
Trudging to empty home is a plight
I realise now
Let’s go where there’s only you, I, and love!


Sunday, 11 September 2016

मैं चला

कश्मकश-ए-ज़िन्दगी से कौन जूझे
हक़ीक़त-ए-हयात को कौन बूझे
दांव-ओ-पेंच-ए-जीवन को कौन समझे
नावाकिफ हूँ राज़-ए-हयात से, मैं चला ।

मोहब्बत का खतरा कौन लेले
जीवन के पापड़ को कौन बेले
फुरक़त--महबूब को कौन झेले
नावाकिफ हूँ राज़--हयात से, मैं चला

शरीक़-ए-हयात को खोने का ग़म
ता ज़िन्दगी न होगा यह कम
दिल के अंदर है यह एटम बम
नावाकिफ हूँ राज़-ए-हयात से, मैं चला ।

जीवन के सफर को जाना
मुश्किल--राह को पहचाना
दुनिया की भीड़ में रहा अनजाना
नावाकिफ हूँ राज़--हयात से, मैं चला


Thursday, 8 September 2016


Conscience and conscientiousness make one feel, ‘I haven’t done enough.’

It may be the case of a person or a given situation, when one is required to help. This feeling or response heightens, especially if the person or situation is irretrievably lost.

How much of truth or justification may be there in such a feeling or emotional response? Will the accompanying guilt be justified?


What is “enough”? How much is “enough”? “Enough” for whom? These are some of the relevant questions that spring in the mind immediately. These, and other related questions, are similar. Therefore, I take the liberty of combining them.

The required succour is, simply, what and as much as the person or situation demands. The help required could be monetary or service-based in nature.

Let us, for discussion’s sake, assume that I am the person who is required to help a needy person.

Resources, financial or otherwise, are hard to come by. They cannot and must not be squandered on an unworthy person or cause.

This gives rise to the question, “to whom”.

Do I know the person well enough for rendering assistance? Is the need genuine? What is his/her repaying capacity? Is the person so close to me that I do not want repayment?

There is a catch here. The succour may be beyond my capacity and capability although there is no doubt about my intent to help. Should I, then, “do” whatever I can even if it is insufficient, even if it does not meet the demand of the needy person or situation completely? I would unhesitatingly say, “Yes, of course.” The logic is that, at least, part of the needs are met with, providing that much of respite. Further, the needy person is assured of my solidarity with him/her even if the succour is insufficient. However, if I can render complete help, I must. In such matters, my conscience and conscientiousness must guide me.

Should the succour rendered be insufficient and the person or situation is irretrievably lost, will I be justified in feeling “guilty”, at least partially? The word “guilt” has more legal than emotional connotation. If I had rendered the succour, albeit insufficient, ungrudgingly and stood by the person or situation through hard times, then I would unhesitatingly say that the feeling of guilt would be completely unfounded; maybe a sense of sorrow at the inability to have rendered sufficient help, but guilt, no.

I think it feels great to have someone who stands by during hard times.