Avenger - Fredrick Frosyth

I don't know why but I have always loved 'Avenge'. Be it in stories or in real life. Now after years it brings a smile on my face when I think of one such 'Avenge' I took on successfully which was one of my life rocking incidents. Therefore 'Avenge' is sweet and so are its stories.

"Avenger' is one such story by Fredrick Forsyth. When an enthusiastic young volunteer American boy is brutally murdered while he was on mission to help victims of Bosnian war, his rich grandpa decides to turn every stone to drag the culprit, a cold blooded psychopath leader of Seb militia Zoran Zilic in the feet of justice. Using his relations in the power houses of America, for one time he made the wheel spins. But in the wake of diplomatic, political and international laws, it was not a cake walk. As if this was not sufficient, CIA was protecting Zoran, who was a vital source for CIA to track down world's most wanted USB (Osama Bin Laden). After losing hope from everywhere Ricky's grandpa came to know about "Avenger".

Calvin Dexter, 50 years of age, a lawyer who loved to keep himself in shape, earlier was a Viet veteran who fought the most dreaded war in the underground death tunnels of Vietnam. After gruesome war he became a lawyer and later lost his only daughter by the hands of gangsters involved in sex slave trade. When Dexter returns home after killing his daughter's killer he faces the death of his wife who dies of the pain of their daughter’s loss. This changes Calvin’s life and he becomes ‘Avenger’. For good cause and against good fees he starts bringing down criminals to justice. Now grandpa of Ricky hires Dexter to bring billionaire Zoran who has vanished with the help of CIA. The story keeps readers in their toes where Avenger is looking for Zoran and CIA is looking for Avenger.

Who made the final move and how? Read it how writer of ‘The Day of Jackal’ has webbed the mystery.

My New Companion

My maternal uncle was professional photographer. With his Rolleiflex he used to click at me every now & then when I was kid. He taught me few tips including how to hold a picture in hand. My enthusiasm for photography started at that stage. And then in 1990 my sister in law gave me cute present of Mamiya NC1000s. I spent a lot of time and money on that one. But learning photography on old film cameras was very expensive. I was too hasty when digital cameras were introduced in India in 2000 and bought a 2.1 MP without making much fuss about it's very limited specifications. After that purchase I was determined to buy a good digital SLR and to be do photography as a serious hobby.

Since then every time whenever I made my mind to buy one, a new urgency would appear from nowhere. Priorities change so fast for a person in business like me that most of the times personal temptations have to take place at back burner. And my urge for a nice digital SLR was on back burner for good long years. But the time has to arrive and it did arrive at the appropriate time. After long wait and lengthy R&D, finally Canon EOS Rebel T1i is now hanging on my Naneu Pro backpack along a series of accessories.

Visiting places is not a new affair but with this new companion now the memories are definitely going to have new dimensions. My first visit after that buy was a fair at Kumarsain and many more are in the queue. I hope these journeys are going to be regular and memorable.

Just keep looking for what I look at on Flickr.

Koteshwar Mahadev

The Deity was dancing with the beats of drums and tunes of other musical instruments. On the shoulders on his devotees his colourful palanquin was swinging to & fro, up & down and left & right. These palanquins are not very big or with covering, these are open one just like big stools with four horizontal wooden poles to be carried by devotees. But these are beautifully decorated with mostly blood red coloured clothes. On the top rested main idol of the face of Deity made of eight different metals. This one is profoundly decorated with garlands of scented flowers and of coins, various ornaments, golden crown and with a gold umbrella. Beneath this main idol, lined up are other various idol of same Koteshwar Mahadev. One can easily judge the peace, happiness and eternal satisfaction on the face of Devataa (Deity). It seems that people who are carrying the palanquin are themselves maneuvering it but it is said that it is Devataa himself who drives the palanquin. All the four palanquins were moving all around the fair ground which was already filled more than capacity with humble devotees of Koteshwar Mahadev. People of every caste, age and sex were present and glorifying the fair. Young and old residents of Kumarsain were coming before palanquins to carry them and were feeling lucky to get a chance even for few seconds.

I was watching the entire proceedings with devotion, excitement and curiosity. The festivity was enhanced by grey clouds and then by rain. Air was filled with devotion towards Koteshwar Mahadev who is believed to be scared soul blessed by Lord Shiva himself and one is considered King of the area of Kumarsain, a small town around seventy five kilometers up north from Shimla, capital of Himachal Pradesh. For the devotees, this Deity is not some "God" but just like their beloved family member for whom they have extreme love and respect and the one who have blessings of God to fulfill their big or small requirement or to erase their day to day problems. For them this Deity is in constant touch with its people either by dreams or through his 'Gur" the main priest. The occasion was the local festival which comes after every four years when Koteshwar Mahadev would meet his other loving deities, Marechh and Malendu Devtaa. I spent last two days at that festival and was lucky to witness the farewell of all other deities from Koteshwar. Just like young kids those departing Devtaa were so reluctant to leave that their palanquins would not let its bearers take the exit route even when Koteshwar Mahadev himself was waiting at the end of road to see them off. Only the interruption of oldest 'Gur' made them ready to leave for another four years. The festival ended with the 'Nati' (local dance) by the people of Kumarsain. The charm on the faces of idols of Devtaa seem faded a bit cause of this departing.

More pics are available at: www.flickr.com/photos/gaurav_sks/

Sitting On The Bank !

"Actually my odyssey (for mysticism) had begun in Chicago when I was a stock broker. Working on La Salle Street at Bear Sterns made me feel important since I was on my way to becoming financially independent. I worked hard, knowing my future was set. Three years passed, and one day I walked into the office and surveyed the scene. I noted that one colleague was recuperating from his third heart attack, another was getting his third divorce, six others were using tranquilizers like potato chips, and everyone was heading to the bar daily to forget their trades. I wondered what malfunction I would acquire over the years. It hit me in a flash that this struggle was not worth it. I resigned the following week and chose the next obviously logical step in my evolution: I joined a monastery. " ............................Justin O' Brien wrote these words in his early pages of "Walking with a Himalayan Master - Swami Ram". And while taking on this book for second time I closed the book after I read these lines and my thought train left the station for yet another unknown route of unknown destination.

Though monastery was not the final destination Justin was searching for since years, but of course it was a start of journey towards the correct direction at the crossroads of his life. At least Justin was attentive enough to listen his inner voice and then also brave enough to act on it and for that he achieved what he wanted to explore all his life till that moment. Kabir ji have written :

जिन खोजा तिन पाया, गहरे पानी पैठ

मैं बपुरन बूढा डरा, रहा किनारे बैठ ॥

"Those who tried, they achieved, by entering deep waters, me coward and feared of drowning kept sitting on the bank all time." (One can interpret 'deep waters' & 'fear of drowning' in his own lifestyle but it do implement on every saint to salesman.)

Also there are (lucky ?) people who are not even aware of any inner voice withing themselves. They have never heard any internal sayings or in other words they don't have so much of calm in their mind, body or spirit that they could hear one. Also there are (strong ?) people those who do hear inner voices but those voices do not bother them at all or they are able to ignore those voices through out their life spans. And then there are people like me (Confused ? ) those who find & listen their inner voices loud and clear but they are unable to understand it. Listening and then acting to callings of mind is far away thing, for a person like me the difficult most task on the earth is to measure the dimensions of own mind. Who are we? What are we here for? What is exactly we are looking for? Are we really happy? Or we are sad unnecessarily? Which happiness is real happiness, the joy of winning a million dollars lottery or moments of peace of mind ? Does everyone feels some vacuum somewhere ? These are very confusing questions. And I don't know where they come from in my mind? And I am seriously bothered by this non stop blah- blahing of my mind.

Once a friend (whom I think is the one of few persons I know who enjoy every second of their lives and who kept poking me for not enjoying my life to max as I kept wandering in search of unknown objects, told me that whenever she visits her nearby temple she feels great eternal peace and so she visits that temple daily. Now that's confusing. If she have so much of fun & joy of shopping, clubbing elite clubs, social - financial securities, having an affectionate family, keeping body in perfect shape etc, why that few moments of peace in that temple is on the top of the her list? I know she would never agree to sacrifice that 'small' peace in lieu of those other worldly gems of enjoyment. So what is real joy ?

No this has nothing to do with spirituality. I don't think I am spiritual but yes I do think God is there and I think I am curious, too curious to be worse. I have lot of questions to put in front of Him. But I also fear that if anyhow, I face Him ever, I won't be remembering a single question for Him. May be just the luminous of His presence would complete my search. And if this all is called mysticism, let it be. But I have countless contradictions in compare to a person to be in the realm of mysticism. And that's what the whole confusion is about. And that is about measuring the dimensions of my mind which don't let me take breath on one side. 'Useless show-off sucks' I am of the view point but fancy cars & bikes do attract me. My heart would enlighten with the idea of exploring the unseen world but my practical brain reminds me of my duties towards my family. I dream of having a cottage at a hill top with the view of lake amid snow clad mountains but then simultaneously I want to own a penthouse in the metro I live in. The imprisonment of our dependence on materialistic things (how many things we need daily to leave for office like cellphone, laptop (with wi-fi), wallet, keys, wristwatch, glasses etc and we feel handicap even if one thing is skipped for a day) irritates me but on the other hand I do own and wanna own the latest gadgets. I know if one has to find hidden meaning of life he needs to read 'those special' writings but those writing makes me sleepy in initial pages and rather I would read a thriller in one sitting. The list including, monetary interests, human nature, mentality, sexual interests, family bounding, religious activities is too long and my being a pendulum in opposite directions won't let me recognize myself. The quest would go on!

Is anyone else is sailing in the same boat?

Rainy Roads !

After a long wait finally rains are here. Everything around seems new, clean and so full of life. Colours are showing off at their best. The fragrance of wet earth is enlightening. I can imagine what would be the scene in hills. Numerous small and big water falls, gorges and waterways would be flowing in their full swing. White clouds would be hovering and mystifying the whole surroundings. The noise of rain drops on the leaves creating en thrilling music. What I am doing sitting here in office. I need to be there. I need to be driving my bike on those rainy roads.

Zindgi Aa Rahaaaa Hoon Main..............................!

What A Heart Wants ?

Those thoughts keep coming back every day now and then. Maybe those thoughts have never left me. May be it's deeply rooted in my DNA that keep surfacing with every this n that way.

Years back in around 1990 while I was roaming in Sangla valley of Kinnaur in Himachal along few friends, amid the small village of Sangla I came across a two roomed vocational training centre of Vanvasi Kalyan Ashram, an organization dedicated for upliftment of people of tribal areas in India. That centre was providing vocational training to big girls and basic education to small children of near by villages. Only a duo of husband-wife in their late thirties was running the whole show. They both belonged from Bangalore in Karnataka thousands of miles away from that small village of Kinnaur. They both were well educated and had their respective jobs back there and had decided to give six months for the welfare of their country and were deputed here as part of their non-paying duty. Those two rooms were their part of world for those six months.

Those few hours spent with that couple were engraved on my mind forever. With the divine surroundings of Himalayas, flowing of Baspa river, always smiling innocent people, mystic temples and Deities within, yellow harvest dancing in the fields, small houses made of stone and wood are still afresh in my heart. Sitting alone on the bank of Baspa that time I dreamt of settling there forever. I didn't know even after many years that if it was a serious thought or was a temporary attraction of young immature teen aged mind.

But one thing is for sure true, that all of my life till now, mountains fascinates me. It was not only that couple who showed me the way but as above I wrote it is in my blood which is very easily provoked when ever I see mountains. A small house in the hills is what I dream of for my retirement. The hassle basal of daily life, unnecessary competition in business and social life, rat race of earning more and more only to maintain your metro status, watching other people's possession of 'brands' and watching other people watching your possession of 'brands' sicken me. When will this blind circle end ? When I am gonna to be at my place? The place I have always dream of, the place where only peace of mind prevails.

But there is one hidden fear also. The way I wail about this routine life, who can be sure of that I won't get sick of that life too? May be it's only my mind, a confused mind. They say you can not get the depth of some one's mind but here it seem true with my own mind. Or may be it's just only one colour among the millions others contained in my mind. Who knows? But no doubt this colour is what my heart is made of.

'Six Suspects'

To help a friend for a project about how great this nation of Bharat was, is and still can be in future, I was searching for some images about India when I fell into a deep, dark and stinking gorge of a blog about India which contained nothing positive but only filth, sorrow, suffering, poverty, crime, backwardness, uncertainty, insecurities, evils, fears, hate and venom for India. That person titled "Zillion reasons to escape from India" to his/her blog and has totally dedicated his life to magnify every evil of India in his words. Spending very few minutes on those pages literally were like spending that much time in a hell for me. These are the people who can never find a tiny good thing about their country or could lift a finger to rectify a problem but would do their best to bring that weakness in front of the lousy spectators of entire world with the royal bash of orchestration. I don't know what do these people gain from such shameless self exposure but certainly few people do make money out of it and one of them is Mr. Vikas Swarup.

Six Suspects by Vikas Swarup is not very different from his 'very famous' novel Q&A. This Q&A is the same novel which gave a very proud new name to Indians, that is "Slumdog". I agree that every creative writer, poet or artist always tries to bring untouched, unseen and under the current subjects to his or her creativity but according to my knowledge Swarup has written only two novels and both are about the so called pathetic state of India. I think he have learnt the mantra of selling in global market where movies like Lagaan loses the rat race of Oscar and movies like Slumdog Millionaire bags all the awards.

Six Suspects is a twisted story of Jassica Lal murder case where accused is a spoiled son of a wealthy corrupt politician and both father son duo manipulates law accordingly to their will and gain. That son "Vicky Rai" in this story is murdered in the celebration party of his acquittal from this murder and police arrest six persons from the party under suspicion. These six suspects include, a leading Indian actress who is cheated by her cousin, an American who is cheated by an Indian, a tribal who's tribe is cheated by their welfare officer, a retired diplomat who cheated his wife and then is now cheated by his keep, a slumdog youth who was cheated by his luck all his life and finally that corrupt politician who kept cheating innocent people till now and was cheated by his own son in the end. So the whole story is about corruption, deceit and backstabbing which obviously prevail ONLY in India and ONLY things which prevail in India according these kind of writers. Mr. Vikas Swarup is an Indian diplomat in Indian Foreign Services and I think he cannot serve India better than what he has done by his writings to paint Indian picture in front of this globe.

Some very highly educated, open minded, global viewing and let's-face-the-fact attitude people may stand with their views of justifying such 'bold' topics but I would prefer to stay illiterate than to enjoy and applause such indiscriminate oeuvre about my country which is not entirely true.