The daily vagaries

There are some afternoons when the house becomes very quiet. Only the sound of leaves outside, or a pressure cooker somewhere far away, breaks the silence. I sit in my old armchair and memories start coming one after another — the smell of marigolds, little footsteps running through the house, half-eaten samosas, endless questions and laughter. And almost every memory somehow leads back to Aaryan. My little grandson. The child who turned ordinary walks into adventures and ordinary days into stories. Our mornings together had their own rhythm. Before the rest of the house fully woke up, I would hear his feet running towards my room. “Dadu, sun is awake. चलो जल्दी!” And there was no refusing him. We would step out while the air was still cool and fresh. Along the roadside grew marigold flowers which Aaryan loved very much. “Dadu look…gainda flowers!” He would pluck a few very carefully and then start preparing what he called “celundala” — some magical homeopathy cream according to him wh...

Written by my father, Shri Prem Chand Singla, at the age of 77 on 10th August 2024, while reminiscing about his childhood days. I think the content has come out as a beautiful story of a progressing India wherein the common man of a village in India, stepped up and worked hard for the upliftment of his community. His story touched my heart and I believe, it has the right ingredients to make it to many other hearts. Thus, I am publishing it on my blog and wish it reaches the hands of those kindred spirits who find solace in the echoes of the past and cherish the memories that shape our present   ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  The Road to Thikriwala: A Path to Progress When I think of my childhood in Thikriwala now, strange little things return first. Not big events. Dust rising behind bullock carts. Wet mud sticking to chappals during rains. Buffaloes sitting right in the middle of the रास्त...

 My humble attempt at studying the lovely couplets from Kabir. I have picked up a few and on daily bases, have been studying and translating one couplet. Started doing this around a month back and have started to get inebriated and drunk in his "wine". I hope you shall enjoy what you read in the page below and the colour will catch your soul as well ..... 1) माला कहे है काठ की, तू क्या फेरत मोहे     मन का मनका फेर ले, तुरत मिला दूँ तोहे। 2) कबीर' रेख सिंदूर की, काजल दिया न जाइ     नैनूं रमैया रमि रह्या, दूजा कहाँ समाई। 3) मालिन आवत देख के, कलियन कहे पुकार     फूले फूले चुन लिए, कलि हमारी बार। 4) पाथर पूजे हरि मिले, तो मैं पूजूँ पहाड़     घर की चाकी कोई न पूजे, जाको पीस खाए ससांर। 5) लिखा लिखी की है नहीं, देखा देखी बात     दुल्हा दुल्हन मिल गए, फीकी पड़ी बारात। 6) आखिर यह तन खाक मिलेगा, कहाँ फिरत मगरूरी में      मन लागो यार फकीरी में। 7) कबीर टुक टुक देखता, पल पल गयी बिहाये     जीव जनजालय परि रहा, दिया दमामा आय...

तुम छिपो चाहे जहां प्रिय, मैं तुम्हें पहचान लूंगी कुमुदिनी के शशि बनो, अथवा कमल के रवि बनो तुम; तुम उषा के प्राणवल्लभ, या निशा की छवि बनो तुम। दिवस हो या रात्रि हो, पर मैं तुम्हें तो जान लूंगी ।। तुम्हीं में अरमान मेरे, हो तुम्हीं धन - मान मेरे, हैं तुम्हारे ही लिए दिन - रात नंदित गान मेरे। मैं तुम्हीं में घुल गई प्रिय, और क्या वरदान लूंगी । तुम छिपो चाहे जहां प्रिय, मैं तुम्हें पहचान लूंगी ।।                                                  - अज्ञात कवि

I am a student, a sikh in that term. Aspiring to walk with Nanak and hear through his words that reverberation of Onkar. Below is my journey to understand what Guru said as his first message - जपजी साहिब !! Please feel free to leave your comments/suggestions and help me in this journey of learning. ================================================================== हुकमी होवन आकार।। हुकमी न कहिया जाय।। हुकमी होवन जीअ ।। हुकमी मिलै बड़िआई।। हुकमी उत्तम नीचु।। हुकमी लिखि दुख सुख पाईअहि।।  इकना हुकमी बख्शीस।।  इकि हुकमी सदा भवाईअहि।।  हुकमी अंदर सभु को।।  बाहर हुकुम न कोय।।  'नानक' हुकमी जे बुझे।। त ह्ऊ मैं कहे न कोय ।।२।। Whatever is worthwhile in your life, you will find that words fall short of describing it. Then what to say about Hukum (the divine command, the cosmic law). It is best known to the silence. From it, has arisen the form as well as formless. It only grants you praise or name in this world. Under it's order, you get your share of happiness or sadness...

First Grief from Lipika  by Rabindranath Tagore Note: This little piece of prose has been one of my favorites for more than 2 decades now. I realized that this book is no more easily available either in physical form or e-form and thus thought to save some parts of it in my blogs and let it become an instrument in reaching unto the right audience one day, somewhere, in some part of the universe. (Aashish Singla)   Grass covers the spot where once a path led through forest shade.  In its solitude, suddenly someone said behind me , "Don't you know who I am?" I turned around and gazed at the face. I said, "I remember, but I'm not sure of the name ----" She said, "I was yours long ago, the grief of your twenty-fifth year" In the soft corners of her eyes something shone, as if a moonbeam in the deeps of a lake. I stood stock-still in wonder. I said, "I saw you that day dark and overcast, a stormy rain-cloud; today, I see an image of the fresh light...