Dishonesty is a subject of personal choice for many. The extent depends on how much you think is dishonest. This is sometimes hard to let others know about the practiced dishonesty, since it comes with a cost. This is not materialistic exchange all the times, this may be intangible entities which defines you.

We all are dishonest at some level. Sometimes our perception of friendship is so strong with a friend that we never return what we owe to him (money, material or smile,). He is my good friend and he will not feel bad. If he feels bad, he is not good friend.

The biggest of all vulnerability is people getting affected and moved by others. People tend to forget themselves and mostly they live in a dishonest aura of imagination. People think they have been doing great and there is no harm in thinking so. The problem arises when they make arguments, fights, cunning moves and loose talks to justify self importance on top of graveyards of their in-competencies. You got to know something, wait, think and decide, before you start shaping your emotions in words.

Inspiration and achievement vs hearsay and complain are two different paradigm. If we are fueled with rage and ignorance, we will never be inspired. Wet trees don’t get fire. Rage and ignorance comes with believing in rumors. This could be the flattering talks from your subordinates or colleagues, or people who pity on you because you give them opportunity to comment on your situation. They may say “why you work so hard, others don’t do, they get same salary”. If we lack the mass of our own ideology, we float in any direction, any one can blow them with their ideology. Having mass do not mean to be so heavy to get changed. But, it should be intrinsic, noise free.

We meet people who whine all the times for current system. The problems, incompetent people around, process lapse and comparisons with an imaginary ideal fairyland. Neither they want to make a move, nor they know what to do next in fixing the issues in hand. The comparison often goes with where they were working before. They say their past was a silver screen and they achieved so much, the system was perfect etc. but at the same time complain about what is present and hide the intrinsic of their weakness by discussing weakness of process, people and technology around.

We all are in a situation which is the result of two main factors. Our qualities and and in-competencies. Qualities forces us Northbound, whereas incompetency drifts us Southbound. How fast and how far you will move up is determined by how much thrust you get to move up. It comes with your innocence and performance.

This do not mean to be always submerged in the realization of your weakness. The idea is to know what we present to others and do not go beyond limits set by our genuine consciousness in exaggerating self. We should take healthy move and should channelize our energy in knocking the right door, unlocking the right locks, solving the real issues. This is called maturity and is different than talking issues.

Singapore after Eid Vacations

This is approximately an hour to get in. the melancholy of emptiness and getting away from loved one is subsiding. I am feeling charge of hitting the monster again. This job is not my choice but my fate. I do not have control on so many things and can’t escape my bread and butter plus the expectations, otherwise am having a deep desire to settle down in Darbhanga.

You are now 2.5+ and Maryam is catching you fast. Both of you have got natural sparks of talents in early age. Your father is a theoretician and he looks the world in a different dimension. Not well digested to many and I develop critics around very easily. I can’t say how much but I miss you all and am dead within; a smile I have to sport so as to be with the people. Struggling to collate and unite the pieces of happiness in a single strand. Can we ensure end to end happiness? Of course not and how can we maximize happiness for our loved ones, if we are at a crossroad of choices? Choices to favor and being blind to one while still loving and ignoring other. This is complex and only experience teaches you the best. This phase of life is a grey part of my life where I am learning to be happy with the people who claim that they love me, however they don’t. They have used me, betrayed me and they expect an artificial treatment of hospitality. How can I make space in thin air?

Checked-in and I am in waiting lounge, luckily got a network port to be in internet. This trip from 10th Aug to 11th Sep was memorable and painful. They should have not done this. If I do not have much money and infrastructure, they should not be in abusive mode. Where did I compromise love? I will better prefer to die with my own complains rather striking any blow to hurt others. With growing age things change and responsibilities calls sacrifice. If we do not answer sacrifices we tend to be selfish. Be it love or hatred. Being selfish in love is much more dangerous. This diabetic ailment has no insulin for cure. I feel much disappointed if a senior does a bad to me, when I should cross the boundary of respect to prove the logic of right and wrong. Let’s wait for a cold bloody terminal, hope things will improve.

Luckily I have made myself myself and I carry no extra baggage of debt. Struggling, moving, uniting, failing and rising again and going on and on. What if they cheated, they challenged my integrity and let time prove my mettle.

Ejazul ki chai, (Ejazul’s Tea)

Growing up in 90s was different. The society was not digitized.

I had only two friends from SJS. Iqbal and Asad bin daud. They were the best since we had a deep bonding in terms of friendship which led to comics exchanges and roaming, fighting, playing around and more which will be an alien activity to coming generation. We all discuss senior people around, and become inspired. Students from Salafia Unanin college and some of the seniors belonging to SIMI. We had good times having inspirational chats with them and little booklets of urdu stories.

I met Ejazul, we called him Ejazul, don’t know where he is but he was a good friend and a book Ibn-e-batoota ki daastan belonged to him, though i got it from Iqbal and it had stories about Ibn-e-batoota’s expeditions. Good book and i had it with me long time. Milton and me usually will go in evening at Ejazul’s room near Iqbal’s house. He made good black tea and we enjoyed the company and peculiar taste of the tea. He was a sort of innocent grown up kid. He knew that the book is with me, and i never returned his book. I regret a lot, i think i had returned to Iqbal.

I feel my life to be fast, very fast. Many good old friends are getting out of mind. This life is a one way hash function and i think this is not going to repeat. Sometimes i am much hooked to the old memories. There are much tastes, smells, stories which remind of old days; much when i open an old book and discover something which associates a lot of past. I still remember the taste of Ejazul’s tea made on kerosene stove, a continuous push of the pumps in order to have a continuous flame. The aroma and tea, and i have no clue if i will ever meet him.

Recent encounters,

While i try to visualize problems with the looking glass of logic, things unwind, however the layer of emotions burns and it create scars. Unaware of the situation, the grave melancholy developed, and the burning sensation, thoughts flow to unknown downstairs, leading to anger, jealousy and frustration.

Then it stops when again i adjust my looking glasses,

This is not all about the things which i do not like in others, and a parallel layer of hate i develop to certain characteristics of others, thereby i abstain myself and restrain in doing so, what they do. If you are a good person, this comes at the cost of sacrifice. Nothing is free, not a mere smile. How do you keep smiling? Either you are unaware or don’t care. This is hard to maintain. An ecology of healthy smiles.

Growing old is a bliss or curse? Gaining mass comes at the cost of loosing your speed. While the net momentum is somewhat constant, that is what i feel. New solutions, problems are solving. However new challenges are coming. Challenges of magnitude i never visualized in recent past. Money is responsibility, will i keep up the products constants. Faced with different simultaneous living life equations, getting real roots are extremely difficult. The imaginary solutions of z-domains do not fit well in real life, and real life calculations go beyond the boundary conditions of space and time. How should a problem be solved, if you do not have control to define the conditions, assumptions and limits, since they are humans, psyches, and emotions?

Strange, but the gravity of life pulls. Pulls to an end of a uncontrolled process, where we were just a variable.

I met new people. I see my past in their actions. Their zeal and passion. I had the same once upon a time. Now i am engaged somewhere else. This is fanaticism. Idealizing someone is good and getting inspired. Talking about individuals. Restless talks. Proving our points. Getting angry over while in discussion with friends, sometimes shout and cry. When the vector to responsibilities are not aligned, center of mass do not follow a trajectory which brings results. You think this is your action bringing success and this is why i was failed. My experience is a random statistical figure. Neither success nor failure can be predicted, no matter how you work hard. This is the probability figure you make in your favor, by doing some mind and muscle. These are the two faces of coin we must get, and if the result of toss is always same, coin is faulty, … sikka khota hai …,

Getting failure, and repeated failure is healthy sign. Success is dangerous, but it is good once or twice. The motivation to your work should be your passion. And if passion is materialized or thought in terms of success and failure, this is neither success nor failure, it is impotence.

Bringing true innovation and nobility to work starts with an unknown force, we call it passion. Getting passionate is brought by love and carried with courage. Do not let the spark diminish ever.

I didn’t liked the joke. For humor and fun, if you do so, do take care of your friends. Do not make a sarcasm, do not ever speak double meaning funny languages. To this we loose our mass and our hollow skeleton floats in laughter. This may be a reason of happiness at moments, but cant bring happiness following peace. The peace is an outcome of sincerity and sacrifice, very few understand.

And most of the times you don’t know, to whom you are speaking with? He may be enough knowledgeable in his/her field. Do you think knowledge to be a criteria to respect someone? If so you must know the difference between knowledge and information. Information applied and practiced transforms to knowledge. How do you test, if you really posses knowledge? So, if you speak and other understand and this do not make you step out of anger and prejudice, and you have the relations intact without cutting it in tears with the sword of your logic, you have knowledge. You will often speak, and laugh will be replaced by a heart-touching smile. A smile that will kill the daemons and make you angel.

Friend’s ship

Saturday, February 25, 2012

I do not have a sound relationship with most …

Though i know, i am not wrong, i pretend to be, just to keep my surroundings, not to feel that they are hurt.They are friend. Are they friend? With the kind of expectations, and buzzing blinkers, big bumpers and they don’t miss a chance. They don’t miss a chance to let you feel, that they are so special to you. That how dare you failed to keep yourself up to their expectations?Now in this age, there are people with a common set, but there is definitive age gap. Those who are at shore to shore, though they expect friendship, tenderness, intimacy but also there is that “I” factor. How come this happened at that time, so he is junior and if i am senior.We do not define sharp bounds but we expect sharp boundaries. Bonds vs boundaries. I am happy. You are happy. Are we happy? This is your fault, not mine. You must understand. How come you did it? How you think like that?Is this a friendship, or a friend’s ship? Better be enemy with defined points, than to be friend, undefined, not clear and demanding.

Live your life, happy, enjoy and do not interrupt.

We talk big things. Our words are endless. We hide our greed in the dark blankets. We call it whatever. I want to do this and that. Achieve the Everest. And I have a story. Experiences to share. Pain you can’t feel. Wound you can’t heal. I am way ahead of you. And you don’t know much. You must comply to all. I am your friend, not a stranger at all.

Our actions comes from our thoughts. Germinated since long. The pattern we develop. Out of culture relations and bonds. And we impose the self-made rules. To defy our self and greed. Either we love and wanted to be loved. At the cost of my happiness I want to see all. I am not happy and they are. What type of people. Selfish, greedy and bizarre.

Since I do calculations and am way beyond decimals. Do not want to be on receiving side. I fear if they dare, to peep into and prove again that I am wrong.

This do not mean that if I do make things accountable, I am not good. This is the way I do. I want and mean crystal terms. Not the burden of expectations. This have killed and killing. Families, Friends and Nations.

Understanding Not Expectations. Sacrifice not the Fight. Forgive not to Seek. Selfless somewhat more or less. Being cheated, exposed and vulnerable. Something to say that, Yes, I care and do not expect a return.

About Interlaced bindings, bollywood, doordarshan and aakashwani

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Year 1986 – 1989; Darbhanga,

What is so special in the charm? Where do we get it? With growing age it is worth remembering the definition of charm, which ever existed, long time back …

In afternoon about half past one, the aakashwaani and old radio with old songs. I didn’t knew anything called TV as such. The first I saw at Tipu’s home. The famous song was “leke pehla pehla pyaar …”

Dev sb expired recently. I do have some pastimes closely associated and it is very tough separating the intangible little thoughts of a kid interlaced with the style, charm, fantasies and many more thoughts. He was certainly one of the most admired actors by me.

Since the time was not of exposure overdose. Things were quite disciplined. DD1 had a defined window of visual frame. Also it depended on lot many factors. Electricity availability on Sunday nights.

Those were the days when art was not contaminated. Yes business was of course but the business was not so harsh to get clothes of actors and actress off to fuel the desires of audience well in pursuit of making extra dollars.

I was a kid and was returning home with Abbujaan. The cycle had a front basket and I was enjoying the fast moving road past. Some veggies and a torch yellow colored. I wonder sometimes how I can memorize so much. My childhood was so multicolor. Abbu stopped at DMCH quarters. Rahman phupha jaan was a copy of Shammi Kapoor. May Allah rest him in peace; he was so humorous full of life. Cracking jokes of medical life. Patients, doctors and a lot. I was a charming kid though. They used to kiss me on my cheeks and I hate that act the most.

A chase scene was on a small b&w tv set. This was Shammi Kapoor and a very old song. Abbujaan was talking to Rahman phupha and the tea was on to be ready. I was not getting bored as I liked movies since childhood. Maybe there could be wrong and right, but I didn’t know much. My childish fantasies had a lot of Dev Anand and Shammi sb.

I moved, played, wondered a lot. In all the acts, the fear of homework, love of comics, teacher’s punishment and the subjugated attitude as a result of family conditions, there was always a corner that open a rear window to films, songs, our neighbors and related relations; what was in common, was the movies and actors. Heavily influenced, exposed.

I witness the transition from an age of classics to the pre modern era, when BigB made some Shehenshah mode and a lot Mithun stuff in market. The songs on PaanWallah shops were changing the taste, the paan tested the same, however the soundboxes were tuning different rhythm.

I saw the movie Dream girl at Naanijaan’s home. In a small celebration I was talking to a strange friend. I was talkative. This was a vibrant night. Naanijaan’s home was always special. Our Mamujaans were a great source of bonding. As usual in Indian families there is always a sense of negative heat from Naanihaal and the in laws, but I didn’t experienced much. I had a T-Shirt, the 699. I talked a lot, Captain Tara and Sigma. While discussing I found him an interesting person and we were friends in moment. I lost the friendship in brutal course of time, and even FB is helpless tracing back.

“Gaata rahe mera dil … … Pyaar karne waale, pyaar hi karenge, jalne waale chahe jal jal marenge, …” the song has a special significance. From early childhood, I used to sing this song. An equally impact was from dream girl. Something we can’t explain as the sense of love in movies was not comprehended by childish brains. What we see on screen was a scene only, that impacted mind and got interlaced with memories, activities, life milestones. Something which defines some beautiful moments of past. The small home, hot summer noon, Sunday business with TVs. And of course black and white films at neighbor’s home since we didn’t had a 12V battery arrangement.

About my friend Tanqueed Alam and Professor Adil Sb,

Thursday, November 3, 2011

Shamsi is getting married. He has been a friend to me since class 6th. Shamsi was introduced to me as Tanqueed Alam by our respected Mehre Alam sir.

This was one fine morning in Zila School, I was in corridors of the 6th class entrance gate. My whole bag was stolen by school peon some weeks back and I was helpless. Mehre Alam sb was one nice dashing and one of the most intellectual acumen personas I have met ever. He was brilliant and just different. His gentle style and the way of teaching, grasp over subjects, fabulous. May Allah reward him Jannah and I wish I could have gained some more guidance.

He introduced Shamsi to me,

“Meet him “Tanqueed”, take him to the class”, said Alam sir with a habitual smile, I liked.

Tanqueed was like all combed hair in the way old Golmaal actor had a desi look. We talked chatted a long over the books, tuitions living and relations links and had aaloo chaat outside. By the way he happened to my “Bhateeja”, as late I discovered Ail to be my “Naati”. I was too young to hold these seior positions, so I ended up having being called friends.

The character Adil Jamil was already around, and quickly we were good friends. Actually I have seen, it happens in girls mostly, the triode friendship. However we were just good friends, I will say the best even. Soon we captured the morning assembly prayer space and were leading “Daya Kar Daan Bhakti Ka …” Morning prayer. In some way or other we all were totally different. We had different capabilities, likings, background but still we resonated in same frequency when it came to friendship. In actual the word friendship didn’t existed that time. We were just happy having each other company.

Usually I loved the subject science and urdu. I don’t know why but Maths at that time was a headache, and Adil was very good in Maths. Tanqueed being an average easy going student, I felt always me being in trouble when it comes to Mathematics. Things reversed 1998 onwards to me at least.

We were heavily exposed to bollywood, TVs and Comics, I don’t want to make a lie. This was a certain fact. Though our parents were a bit religious, stand on principles but they didn’t stopped us like a teacher with stick. Slowly on the way we learned and responsibilities made us to rise above the layers of art and drama. Lets face it, this is life and we carry responsibilities and expectations. Shamsi had a TV at his home and I watch mostly afternoon serials with him like Junoon, Shanti, Swabhimaan. I remember movie Raja Babu, and once I took him to Poonam cinema hall for Sunil Shetty’s starrer “Bhai”. We were in 6-9 show, and he was worried for him being asked by Alam Sir. By the way Alam Sir was Shamsi’s father, If I didn’t mentioned earlier.

Since Adil was near to my home, I generally go to his home in evening. If you ask the reason, I don’t know why? I was a seeker of inspiration and Adil had beautiful home work copies with all Maths exercise questions answered beautifully. I remember the trigonometry exercises. This was painful. He introduced me to Aarif sir, and I started learning Algebra first. I never mentioned before anywhere in my past posts, but Aarif sir did a magical teaching for me, and Maths was easy. So I solved questions on and on and completed the bharti bhawan maths book for 7th and 8th in some 6 months. I joined again the unique coaching centre. Adil had an advantage of being guided by his family in studies, especially his sieter, and I felt unfortunate sometimes.

So we three friends fought some of the times. I was a subject of Joke in carom plays. I was not a good striker, actually a bad one. So no one wanted to have a partnership with me. They purposefully made a joke of teasing me by saying “Amma”, since I was once singing the movie Bombay’s famous song Amma, Amma … I was not exposed to many things. Had came from a varying friendship experience started from Salafia School (Iqbal, me and Asad), Indira Memorial Academy (Shashi, Asad and friends), had experienced the first love, then Jamaluddin miyan, and then Zila School. I was having many friends, I forgot many but remember Adil and Tanqueed as we were not only good friends but competitors in terms of marks and achievements as well. We all got success in different fields as we were different. May Allah rise us in the final day with our good deeds in heavy proportions, and may be a good Friday evening in Jannah InshaAllah will discuss again the Zila School.

Good Wishes Shamsi for your marriage. May Allah bring peace, happiness and make you couple a source of happiness for each other.

We are lost. Are we lost? Can I relive memories?

Sunday, September 11, 2011

We are lost. Are we lost? Can I relive memories?

“Jaane chale jaate hain kahaan, duniya se jaane waale ja a ne ……”We had a small house in bibi pakar of only two rooms. This was universe for us and Mukesh song was in air. Dalton had made the emergency light’s cassette player working. I loved Mukesh’s songs, so the aroma of aangan. Little osara where sewing machine was placed nicely covered with peculiar covering. Abbu’s crockery shop existed no more, so we had good times at home with all of our family members.I had a natural advantage of being an elder brother. I loved driving NV150, LML Vespa. One of the oldest Vespa we had in Darbhanga. I went there to Tower Chowk. The place I spent my considerable childhood time at Katki bazaar shop. Stopped at magazine shop and looked at “Physics for you”.

I was in Darbhanga for Eid vacation and I written two articles for Physics for you some 2-3 months back. I was expecting them to be published. Luckily I saw the magazine and my sixth sense knocked me. Lets see if they have published it or not. I was with appijaan and Dalton I think. I saw my article published and I was out of control. Very happy, very very happy. This was the same magazine shop, where I got the first magazine “Pratiyogita Darpan”, with lot arguments from Abbujaan. I loved magazines and dreamed one day I will write my own views and this happened. I was very happy. I shown my articles to Appijaan, Dalton and Ammi. Ammi was making masala for gosht and she was very happy. How can I forget the moment? A day before Eid and I was feeling intense happiness.

We travelled in Vaishali express. Abu Bakar, Amir and one more friend i think. This was a nice journey.

The articles were on frame of references and projectile motion. Nothing more than what I learned from K K Jha. He was certainly the best teacher in my life and a turning point for me. I hope Fahd get good teachers like him.

We are lost. Are we lost? Can I relive memories?

Hassan sb’s big old home, and the family was still there. This was December 2000. They built a mosque as a sadq-e-jariyah in memory of their beloved Dad. They were my childhood friends and I missed them a lot. As we grow we loose the intrinsic love. Our education, expectations and desire keep us self centric and we realize old love, tenderness and friendship when we loose something, something special. I hope their Dad’s soul in peace and accompanied with good spirits.

We are lost. Are we lost? Can I relive memories?

Khurram Mamujaan’s sudden death, Raja bhai’s sad news and passing people. The turn for me is still to come. Will I be able to keep smiles? To keep love. How much have I helped others? This world needs more, what am I doing? There are questions, and no answers. Sometimes I come out of my shell of worldly demands, my own needs, and then I realize people who showered love to me, who helped me, my friends and eyes with love. Eyes with grave expectations, so that I will remember them in tough times, and in their happiness. Have I met them?

Inspiration Vulnerabilities and Learning Stories

Vulnerable to get inspired. I am having the weakness of getting inspired. That’s why my appearance is changed frequently. Inspiration is what has been a source to propel myself ahead.

This was a nice evening. My small home in “Bibi Pakar Mohalla” was surrounded from three sides and we didn’t have any window to the three sides. The home was where I lived since my memory goes back. I was developing myself and advancing. Getting inspired with people around. In the end of road was Don Bosco School facing front crossing (to the opposite side of road). If i walk to left till Shoaib Manzil, crossed Zafar Sb home and there was SIO office. I was privileged to meet some great people from old SIMI when I was kid. I was offered to read “Naqli Shezada”, “Ibn-e-batoota” stories and lot more books. These books served me to develop a strong character. I wonder if coming generation will get enough time to read or not, as they are bombarded with information, innovation and technology. These forces kids of next-gen to use their mind less and being more materialistic in nature.

There were familiar faces. Iqbal was my old good friend. There I met ever cheerful Mujahid. A person I admired in first glance. He was holding “H C Verma”. “Concepts of physics” by “H C Verma” was something like Harry Potter’s flying broom in Darbhanga. Students right from early class 9th starts taming it. I had a natural inspiration to this book. Anyone talking H C Verma was thought as a genius on earth. That beautiful evening there was another person in discussion on a question from Optics, with Mujahid. The critical angle was in discussion. Mujahid’s father was a professor in Physics and he used to take coaching classes. As I developed a liking to K K Jha, so was not interested in any other teacher. Mujahid and the SIO program were a kind of ice breaker. We had similar mindset, so I, Iqbal and Mujahid along with other friends used to have SIO programs every Sunday. Some small competitions for children wing. Meanwhile when I discovered H C Verma’s English more difficult than the numericals (this is what small town kids struggle the most), I started solving “M Karim’s” numericals. Abbujan named me Newton and since childhood I was made to believe myself as a scientist. I developed a natural bias towards Mathematics and Physics. I was on.

One problem with inspiration is that you are hooked most of the times to your beloved inspiration. The time today is resonating fast. I loved Physics, the path. But I forgot, or rather I would say didn’t define an associated objective. Why I am studying this subject so deeply. Do I want to clear IITJEE, do I want to be a doctor, or what. I didn’t have the answer. I loved what I studied and I studied what I loved. A deadlock what happens in a love affair.

There happened other factors also. The love didn’t prove me to be intelligent. I was not an intelligent student. Till 10th class I was very weak in mathematics. I scored below average in Science as well. Things you love most are not where you score most. Love belongs to heart and intelligence belongs to mind. They seldom synchronize. There was a spark but not the light. I felt the tinkling heated pinch of my desires being in a turbulent storm of expectations from my parents and teachers.

“So, well you scored 42 out of 50 in physics. Quite impressive. Ok now tell me, had it been out of 100, what was the percentage?”

I was puzzled. The question was asked by one of the Physics professor of Patna Science College. I was there with Abbujaan to submit admission form. I knew for sure that 70% is not enough for Patna Science College, but I tried.

We Bihari have this attitude. We know we will fail, but we try in the name of luck. We are reasonably highly unreasonable. There was discomfort on Abbu’s face which I noticed. I didn’t answer the question for 1 minute, and professor shouted.

“Is this the candidate you people want admission in Patna Science College?”

We were there to get my photo-state marksheets attested by this professor. I was deeply insulted. Professor was very judgemental in showing instantly me being an insult to the Premium institution. And I was. Any average 8th class student could have answered this. But I was silent. I was not a hero. I was on the brink of bursting into tears. I hold. I was expecting a big lesson from Abbujaan.

Koi baat nahi beta, ye sab hota rahtahai. Mehnat keejiye aura aage nikalye (Don’t worry Son, this all happens, keep doing hard work and get ahead)”. Abbu replied with a smile.

I was not expecting this reply from Abbujaan. I just made him shameful in front of a professor. He controlled his emotion. He loved me and I knew, I felt something strong. I got a reason to come back.

Upon reaching the home, I was crying when all were sleeping. I made a pledge. I prayed to Allah. I started mathematics again. C M Sc College, year 1998-99. Five tuitions a day. Going shop to help Abba. Getting shop goods transported from transport office to our tower chowk shop. Focus on Mathematics and Physics. Memorizing biology. I was playing hard. I solved Maths and Physics mostly on our tower chowk crockery shop. Dusty clothes, patched pants, dealing customers, biology taxonomy in mind, my notebook in “Jhola (clothed bag) made by Ammi”, returning home in night on my Vespa scooter memorizing the whole day lesson. Getting satisfied. In night turning “Kerosene Lamp” on since I forgot some terms again. Catching the memories flying fast. Calculus, Algebra, Trigo, Coordinate and my Sir J L Chowdhary, Physics by charismatic master mind K K Jha, English by K K Sinha, Biology by R P Sinha, Chemistry by H N Mishra. Help from Iqbal and Mujahid and other friends. I remember enthusiastic Ghulam Rabbani as well in SIO.

I learned a lot in the year 1998-99. Morning started with Soothing beautiful Azaan. In 5 AM, Going to Physics Tution, while crossing Naka5, the rhythm of Hanuman Chalisa in background “Jai JaiJai, g   y   a  n   gursa a  agar, jai kapeesh tri lok ujagar …”, a day with college, tuitions and my shop “Darbhanga Glass House”. Azaan in Maghrib. Occasional Namaz, I was not punctual then. Home with daily sabzi in night from “Gudri Bazar”, I lived multiple lives, and I enjoyed it.