अबकी बार किसका वोट?

 बेचारे राहुल गांधी को तो चुनाव आयोग ने बकरी बना रखा है. वो कुछ भी मिमिया दें तो एक डंडा मारते हैं उनके सर पर और दूसरी तरफ महाशक्तिशाली बाबा को खुले सांड की तरह छोड़ दिया गया है.. वह कुछ भी रांभ दें तो चुनाव आयोग भाग के अपने ऑफिस में घुस जाता है...अब आप ही समझिए ये संस्था किसकी है..बोलना मना है...🤐सिर्फ सुनो...किसकी? जो हमेशा मन की बात करते हैं😷

हमारे परिवार ने भी बरसों से कांग्रेस मुक्त भारत का सपना देखा है। आजादी से पहले दादा जी जमींदार लीग के समर्थक हुआ करते थे, और जहां भी कांग्रेसी लोग सभा करते थे, सीधे साधे किसान लोग जो आर्य समाज के अनुयायी और जमींदार लीग के समर्थक थे, कांग्रेसियों की पिटाई करते थे। दादाजी बताते हैं कि काई बार तो डर के मारे कांग्रेसी लोग टोपी सर से उतार कर जेब में छिपा लेते थे। उसके बाद पिताजी की भी यही धारणा रही। उसके बाद हम और उसके बाद हमारे बच्चे भी इसी खानदानी राजनैतिक सिद्धांत का पालन करते रहे हैं। चार पीढ़ियों से हमने हर किसी को वोट दिया है, सिर्फ कांग्रेस को नहीं दिया है। और अब 70-80 साल के पारिवारिक राजनीतिक इतिहास के बाद एक बहुत क्रांतिकारी कदम हम उठ रहे हैं। अबकी बार कांग्रेस को वोट देंगे। हालांकी हुडा सरकार ने मेरे साथ प्रांतीय सिविल सेवा के मामले में बहुत बड़ा अत्याचार किया था, लेकिन बाद में खट्टर सरकार ने भी कसार नहीं छोड़ी। खैर व्यक्तिगत मामलों को भूलते हुए देशहित में फैसला लेते हुए यही सोचा है कि अगर मीडिया की दासता, गैर लोकतांत्रिक मनमानी, संविधान को बदलने की साजिश, व्यक्तिगत आजादी, बोलने की आजादी, पढ़े लिखे आदमी की इज्जत, घृणा मुक्त समाज की रचना करनी है तो हमारी वोटों का कांग्रेस को समर्थन देना ही बनता है। यहीं हम कर सकते हैं। बाकी ज्यादा आशा तो नहीं है, क्योंकि जिस तरह से संस्थानों को जकड़ पकड़ लिया गया है, उस हिसाब से मैं चुनाव के नतीजों में ज्यादा आशा नहीं रख रहा हूं। फिर भी..

The lecherous oldies in the countries

 

A man from our village operates a chemist shop at a village nearby. The village chemists work more as a doctor running a clinic. They diagnose, prescribe and sell the medicines. In this way they fill up a lot of blank space on the health welfare map of India. I’m having a chat with him at his shop. A man in his sixties arrives at the counter, puts down twenty rupees, looks the other way and stealthily plucks away the pills put in front of him. Not a word was exchanged, or even a look. I’m curious even though I have some clue to the episode. My friend elaborates on the matter. This man belongs to the breed of the old men whose bodies have aged but the passion remains the same in the mind. So to fill up this gap between the body and the mind they take aphrodisiac pills. My chemist friend tells me that there are about fifty such heroes in the small village. Half of them still experiment outside their matrimony and the other half dallies within their four walls, including some who have nice amorous equation with their daughters-in-law. Of the last category, they are primarily pension holders and are still the main economic pillars of the family, entitling them to amorous times with their young daughters-in-law.

An inverse equation of adoration and hate

 

My brother spent some time in the China office of their company. He finds the Chinese people the most cultured ones. Their aesthetic sense of hospitality for a visitor is outstanding, he tells me. In comparison to the indisciplined chaos in India, he finds China a well-ordered peaceful, contended society. Well, I may not agree with him completely--unless I see things firsthand--but I have a belief that such an ancient civilization that gave birth to Lao Tzu and Confucius must be having deep-rooted fundamentals appropriately aligned with progress and evolution. Anyways, that's another matter. But I believe that with political reforms, and by quitting its ever-excited quest to get more territories, China can be a trend-setting country for the common cause of global citizenship. 

He tells me that Mr. Zia is the best built man he has ever seen. Zia, a very nice gentleman, tells my brother one day, ‘Brother, all the boys in the office hate you,’ he says as a matter of fact. ‘Why?’ my brother asks. ‘Because all the girls adore you,’ the handsome Chinese clarifies.

A small-time writer's skirmish with a bull frog

 There is a little group of bull frogs who wallop in the small street drain. They retire for the night under a culvert nearby. They are too big for the rat snakes hiding in the bushes a few yards away. The bull frogs look like miniature hippos walloping in muddy waters. They are very confident even while face-to-face with the rat snakes. One day I saw a poor rat snake helplessly staring at the mud-wallopers. They even turned their backs to it. ‘We are too big for you!’ they seemed to take a jibe at it. Then one of them got out to scout our yard for a suitable winter hideout. It showed the same attitude to me that it flaunts in the face of the rat snakes. I applied water cannon to shoo it away but it stayed adamant and turned my policing act into a bathing with clean water. I stomped my feet to shake the ground around it to scare it. It but stood solid. A very brave one indeed. I then used a stick to prod at its bottom. It got angry and stood on its front legs to increase its size. ‘Hey, I’m bigger than you!’ it meant to say. Then I give a small, gentle hit at its bum and there it galloped away croaking obscenities.

The sweet old days for a man in his forties

 To have multani mitti (Fullers Earth or the Indian Healing Clay) for washing your hair means to belong to the older generation. The cosmopolitan world is beyond the reach of plain old earth. While growing up in the village, we had the singular option of washing and rubbing our hair clean with multani mitti. Now the dermatologists are approving the superb qualities of the good old multani mitti involving cooling, skin nourishing and beautifying. The desi shampoo absorbs oil and dirt. The natural cleanser is all goody-goody news for the scalp, especially the oily ones. It hydrates, prevents bacterial growth, inhibits dandruff, and removes toxic chemicals from the skin as a purifying agent. Now I realize how much science is involved in our age-old home remedies and concoctions. While I write this, I can feel Mother’s strong peasant woman’s hands giving a vigorous but considerate scrub to my scalp during childhood. But now to use multani mitti means simply to be out of fashion.