Some thoughts on Pulwama

I was in Prague when Pulwama happened. I was in whole day long workshops and was generally cut-off from all contacts except during short coffee breaks between sessions when I would get to check my phone. It was a sudden spurge of WhatsApp messages on our soldiers that actually made me sit up; with my heart beating faster wondering what had happened in India. In the middle of one of the sessions, totally unable to pay any attention, I did a frantic google search on the day's news when I read about the dastardly attack and the 42 brave lives lost. The news felt like someone had punched me in the gut and I couldn't share it with anyone as all my colleagues in the workshops were Europeans, Russians, Americans and South-East Asians. Nobody would understand.

Brave lives lost (Image source: Google image search)

I mentioned it to my team while on dinner table and they just looked somberly at me and asked, "Oh, someone related to you was also involved?" How do I tell them that they were all related to me... Maybe not by blood or even by acquaintance; but by their love and their sacrifice for our country. They did not understand the weight of being obliged by care and security shown by a stranger. Because then they are not strangers anymore. They are related to you. Yeah, they did not understand. All of the people involved were related to me. Their families were related to me.

Another thing that dawned on me was that the citizens of these countries will never understand the pride of devoting one's life to their motherland. None of their countries had a "voluntary army" i.e. being in army was not a profession. Everyone had to mandatorily serve in the army for 1 or 2 years. That was what their army was comprised of. It was comprised of people fulfilling their compulsion. It was not comprised of people driven by passion and "jazba" to serve their motherland. It was not comprised of people who choose army as a way of life because they love their country. These people will never understand.

They discussed about the futility of war. It was a normal dinner table discussion for them. They told me that they were aware how "India and Pakistan were at war". They wondered why people chose war. But then they don't understand that we did not choose this war. And I hope we never choose a war, no matter how much anger we see around in people. I hope we choose to understand that war and terrorism are two different things and war is no solution to the problem of terrorism.

I do stand in solidarity with the soldiers and their families and I participate in the grief. I am also angry like most Indians but I do not support the call for going to war. Let's leave it to the people who know best and who are impacted the most too.

RIP Mr. APJ Abdul Kalam

I can write many paragraphs in obituary to this great man who inspired generations and ignited millions of minds. But no matter how many words I use, they will always fall short of what deserves to be said about him. Very few people are there in the world who only have all the people loving them and respecting them and not a single person hating them. Sir, you are one of those rare gems who is universally revered.

I read this tribute to Mr. APJ Abdul Kalam. I do feel that it easily resounds how I felt about the news of his demise. So, instead of filling this space with meaningless words, I will just reproduce these here. RIP!

On getting the sad news, we cry a tear,
As if you were some one close and dear.
Never met, never been close,
But why then do I feel this loss?
Is it because you lived for us?
A rare breed by far thus.
Your thinking high, your living sober.
Leading by example, never an empty talker.
In our world full of dirty leaders, you shine so bright.
Your thoughts, words and deeds are indeed a light.
For our generation you are an inspiration,
A ray of hope in a sea of desperation.
Above politics and worldly gains but full of passion.
You will live in the hearts of our generation.

- Anonymous

When Humanity died...

Yes, you guessed it right. This post is about the barbaric attack on a school in Peshawar by Taliban. And I have no words to even condemn it. I had tears in my eyes when I read the newspaper this morning. My emotions brim out when I read people condemning it on social media. No, there are no words that can say in exact terms how so very cowardly and condemnable the attack is.

Yesterday in the middle of a day long training, I opened Facebook on my phone for a breather and saw updates from people condemning the Taliban attack on a school in Peshawar. I instantly felt nauseated. But, then I did not have the luxury to dwell upon it yesterday. Then, in the evening there were messages from concerned mother's of my daughter's school mates questioning whether they should talk to the school authorities to brace up security to tackle such insane attacks. I was surprised. I could understand that they were also affected by the news, but what my mind could not understand - can never understand - is how can one be prepared for such an attack. How can one even imagine such barbarianism from anyone?

Children are the most innocent souls in the world. Does that make them easy targets? Probably yes. And these religious fanatics? Does their religion tell them to kill children? If for one instance, I even believe that all their 'Jihad' is the word of God, or their Prophet, and they should kill all 'Kafirs', I still don't understand how children could be branded as 'Kafirs'.

I am deeply disturbed. It matters not whether they were Pakistani, or Muslims, or Mujahids, or kids of the same army personnel who have fought against my own country. What matters is that they were kids. They didn't know any better. They didn't even understand your war. They deserved to know more, to grow up, to see the world, to see life, to bring smiles to their parents, to make them proud, to... well, I can go on. But, the words that ring in my mind are that they will never come back to their parents now. And their grades won't matter, and their little mischiefs would be deeply missed, and their loud noises will never be required to be suppressed, and their shrieks of laughter will never break the silence of their homes, and everything will go on in the world and Talibans war will continue but the lives of their parents would be forever incomplete.

It's true when they say: "The smallest coffins are the HEAVIEST!"

RIP Steve Jobs: May your soul find peace while your vision lives on

I am not a fan of Apple products. In fact, I have never used an Apple product till date. Though I would love to buy an iPhone or an iPad some day; may be even an Apple Computer too; but they haven't yet managed to tempt me enough to put them above my other priorities. But, I do admire the Apple Journey – Steve Jobs' Journey.

I do not know anything about his personal life. Never cared to read about it too either. But for me, he was a man who dared to dream big and then worked hard to make that dream a reality. He had a vision and he had the courage to realize the same. He was the one man who revolutionized the way we listen to music today, or work on computers, or even the way we use our phones – or should I rather say what all we can do with our phones. There have been many followers. Some even claim to have surpassed the iPhone or at least have given it a run for its money; but even to this day an iPhone is an iPhone. It's not a phone, it's an iPhone. You know what I mean? It's a class apart.

And of course, there is iCloud. It's a technology we couldn't have imagined 5 years ago. But, five years down the line, it's here. Thanks to Apple. Sorry, thanks to Steve Jobs' Apple. For no matter what, irrespective of how many people take over the executive or managerial responsibilities at Apple, irrespective of how many Tim Cook's succeed the coveted (am I allowed to call it) Throne; Apple will continue to be Steve Jobs' baby. His soul continues to live in Apple.

Steve Jobs was a fighter. Only a true fighter can start from an as humble a beginning and make it as large as Apple today. The fact that obituaries are pouring in from any nook and corner of the world is enough to realize what an impact he made on the lives of people all over. He was an inspiration. He fought his battle with life. After every blow, he would bounce back and stand up in front of the world with his new offering. Not only did the people rave about his products, but also about his strength and determination not to give up. He definitely inspired millions of people who are fighting grave sicknesses or any other sort of problems for that matter. Let's just hope he continues to inspire people long after he has gone.

A friend of mine tweeted a few days back, "‎3 apples changed the world, 1st one seduced Eve, 2nd fell on Newton and the 3rd was offered to the world half bitten by one Steve Jobs..." It's crazily funny, but very aptly true. Steve Jobs' Apple has indeed changed the world.

May God bless the departed souls!

A few days ago, two major tragedies struck India. Two accidents, gruesome in their nature, took away numerous lives: The Mangalore Plane crash and the Bihar Train derailing. My heart goes out to the departed souls; may they rest in peace. My prayers are with their families; may they find comfort in their hours of grief. Death is inevitable eventually, but the suddenness of parting with near and dear ones, moreover hale and hearty joyously bubbling people, pierces ones heart apart. But such is fate and we cannot fight it out. In God’s will we must abide and in his mercy we must rejoice.

I would like to put down a small prayer for all the departed souls:

When sorrow comes, as come it must,
In God a man must place his trust.
There is no power in mortal speech
The anguish of his soul to reach,
No voice, however sweet and low,
Can comfort him or ease the blow.


He cannot from his fellow men
Take strength that will sustain him then.
With all that kindly hands will do,
And all that love may offer, too,
He must believe throughout the test
That God has willed it for the best.

We who would be his friends are dumb;
Words from our lips but feebly come;
We feel, as we extend our hands,
That one Power only understands
And truly knows the reason why
So beautiful a soul must die.


We realize how helpless then
Are all the gifts of mortal men.
No words which we have power to say
Can take the sting of grief away -
That Power which marks the sparrow's fall
Must comfort and sustain us all.

When sorrow comes, as come it must,
In God, a man must place his trust.
With all the wealth which he may own,
He cannot meet the test alone,
And only he may stand serene
Who has a faith on which to lean.

- Edgar A. Guest

The eternal Love Story

Erich Segal’s death came as a shocker. I read about it in the morning newspaper, a small news item put in one corner of the front page in the Entertainment supplement. I didn’t recognize him by face, and the photo attached to the article was a bit strange – a pale looking man with sunken cheeks and slightly protruding eyes. I wondered who that could be when I picked up the paper. Then, I read the name “Erich Segal” and instant recognition struck me.

I may not be a great Erich Segal fan because I haven’t read many of his works. But, I have read his most famous work, “Love Story” a number of times over and two other books, namely, “Oliver’s Story”, the sequel to “Love Story” and “Doctors”, which my sister who is studying to be a doctor gave me. Trust me, nothing ever will beat “Love Story”. Anyone who is even remotely prone to reading a ‘Romance fiction’ will swear by it.

As simple as it was, it was a truly heart-wrenching tale of happiness, togetherness and sadness. A rich boy meets a poor girl, marry against his parents’ wishes, live together on the sole foundation of love all the while struggling to make things work and in the end, the girl dies leaving the boy’s as well as the reader’s hearts filled with love and sadness. Surely, no story could have been simpler than this. Not only is the book a small readable one, it is written in the simplest manner possible. In fact, ‘SIMPLE’ is written all over it. It reaches out to its readers, even those who are not much into reading, and embraces them with feelings people only dream about but never experience – the feeling of pure romance, mush and the feeling of being in love for the sake of love.

I don’t remember how many times I have read “Love Story” but I do remember that every time I have, I have cried my heart out. I have cried my heart out for Jenny who found love against the sacrifice of a good education and career and yet couldn’t keep it long enough. I have cried my heart out for Oliver who gave up his family and its traditions for love but couldn’t make it last a lifetime. I have cried my heart out for both of them, who found love in togetherness and togetherness in sorrow. And, I have cried my heart out for myself for I wish I find a soul-mate who would love me so but I never wish the fairytale to end like this. Every time I have read “Love Story”, I have cried; and my heart has felt lighter and my belief in love stronger.

I may not be a big fan of Erich Segal, but I felt sorry for his death because for me Erich Segal was the true owner of “Love Story” as it came out of his heart and who knows may be out of his experiences as well. Now, with him gone, there may not be another eternal love story ever written. And as a small obituary, I would just dedicate one line from “Love Story” for Segal, “I don’t just love you [Oliver], I love you very much.”