THIS ABOVE ALL
Formula for painless exit
Anees Jung wanted to pull down a few rungs in my self-esteem,
she accused me of telling lies and contradicted me with a loud
"nevvah (never)." Some time ago she told me about a
true incident concerning the Dalai Lama. One of his disciples
brought a four-inch-long red string, which I was asked to tie on
my left hand wrist. It would assure me of a painless exit from
Now I am in
acute agony. I did not use the red string and put it in one of
the drawers of my working table. I am determined not to use it.
I know my end is to come very soon. And I sense my end will come
any day in the near future.
I am determined not to use the Dalai Lama’s red
string of good luck
I told Anees
Jung about it. She has shifted residence from Delhi to Versova.
When I first told her about it, her response was a loud "nevvah,"
and an assurance that she knows the Dalai Lama very well. I
tried to shake her self-confidence. "Perhaps you were in
the same school in Lhasa," I said. She ignored my jibe and
continued to belittle me.
Now that I am
in acute agony and know I will not last long, I do not know if
she still regards the Dalai Lama as a close confidante. I will
not be around when news about my departure appears in the
obituary columns of newspapers — hopefully, on some channels
of our TV, too.
every street of Mumbai, Kolkata, Delhi;
Bharat and India, in a state of unprecedented frenzy;
determination, grit, honesty;
Of a simple
man, replicating Gandhi;
the frustration, anger and hopes of the country;
Mark for our
democracy a unique victory;
Not that rogues
will now cease to hold sway;
corruption will go away;
And money and
muscle will no role play;
But it gives
cynicism a rude shock;
And people may
begin to walk the talk;
iceberg long frozen;
hope to the common citizen;
That even a war
against corruption can be won;
A war which has
And for which
everything is yet to be done;
the outcome of the flight;
already become a house of light.
by Kuldip Salil, Delhi)
Banta was a
rich man and had to attend big parties in connection with his
business. His wife had been suffering from wind problem. The
couple felt very awkward when she passed wind or farted. People
around felt as if a bomb had exploded. Banta spent a lot of
money, consulted many doctors but there was no permanent cure.
Santa directed him to a cobbler near Karol Bagh, who said:
"Bantaji, I cannot cure it, but by making the sound a
little musical, your problem will be solved. The charges will be
Rs 2 only."
He asked him to
buy a small whistle. He tied the whistle around the sensitive
portion through her waist. Whenever she farted or the wind
passed, the whistle would blow. The gentry in the party felt
wife went and asked the cobbler if the sound produced could be
made a little more melodious. The cobbler replied that with Rs 2
that Banta had given him, only a whistle could be fitted, not a
J.P. Vinayak, New Delhi)
the liquor baron, was once teaching his 17-year-old son how to
approach a girl, how to ask her to dance, what to say and what
not to say, and how to persuade her to come for dinner. The boy
went away, and half an hour later came back and said: "Now
teach me, father, how to get rid of her!"
Anirban Sen, Delhi)