Babaji lent Rs 5,000 to a Muslim farmer, Naseer, who fled to Pakistan during partition. Years later, Naseer's letter led to the recovery of the money from a buried pot. Babaji's son and grandson exchanged the damaged notes at the RBI for Rs 4,000, enjoyed Kanpur, and returned with sweets.
A young magistrate, filled with self-importance, was humbled by a gardener's response: 'You are my 28th SDM.' The encounter instilled humility and a perspective of impermanence, leading the magistrate to place incumbency boards in front of him as a daily reminder.
The author's wedding was ruined when the police band was cancelled. Years later, as Police Commissioner, he received a similar request. Remembering his past, he ensured a band played at another's wedding, a personal redemption for a missed opportunity.
During a 2011 election vote count, incorrect information from the author's office led CM Badal to congratulate Vaiko on a perceived electoral success, unaware Vaiko's party boycotted the election. The author faced reprimand but CM Badal, known for his grace, offered forgiveness and a lesson in attentiveness.
The author's father mourned the 'death' of Dharmendra, representing a shared love across generations. Meeting Dharmendra left a lasting impression, highlighting his warmth and Punjabi roots. He embodied Punjabi pride and is eternally remembered.
Living in NCR means constant waiting in queues, from daily commutes to official errands. The author finds a strange peace in recognizing others are also behind. Patience, learned through experience, becomes essential. Humor and shared misery create a sense of community amidst the slow pace.
Overcrowding at Chandigarh hospitals is a problem, with referrals from surrounding areas contributing. The author, having worked at both, recalls a night handling a bus accident where two uninjured patients were wrongly referred, highlighting the referral system's potential misuse.
The author attended a first birthday party, recalling his mother's profound reaction to impoverished children eating leftovers decades prior. Witnessing a similar scene triggered memories of his mother's life-changing decision to educate underprivileged children, a mission that continues to impact many.
A family shared their home-cooked meal with a hungry stranger on a train. The man, touched by their kindness, offered them money, which they refused. He then mysteriously disappeared at a station. The family pondered whether he was a grateful traveler or a reminder of selfless generosity.
The author reminisces about cherished photo albums and the warmth of tangible memories, contrasting them with the current digital age's vastness and quick consumption of images. Digital photography is democratized, yet lacks the essence and nostalgia of physical photographs.
The author's neighbor, Mr. Vex, intensely disliked their trees due to leaf litter, bird droppings, and shade. Mr. Vex resented the trees, and even engaged in acts of petty retaliation, such as dumping trash. He threatened to cut the trees. The author reflects on the challenge of loving neighbors and their property.
A construction worker, Ramji, was attacked by bees and fell unconscious. Lance Naik Rao and foreman Watan Singh, despite being stung, courageously rescued him. Major Kaur and her team provided life-saving medical care. Their bravery exemplified selfless heroism.
As the author's fellowship ends, they appreciate the Indian Institute's quiet beauty. The institute's rhythm, composed atmosphere, and historical depth foster introspection. It inspires pausing, observation, and self-discovery, leaving a lasting impact on the author.
In 2011, the author met Dharmendra at Lonavala. Dharmendra, fluent in Urdu, revealed his love for the language and poetry. He shared his journey to stardom, his respect for Suraiya, and regretted past actions. They bonded over shared stories.
Ten years ago, the author met Dharmendra at a hotel. They shared a connection through the actor's ancestral village, where the author's mother worked. Dharmendra, deeply moved, reminisced about his childhood. The author also recalls Dharmendra's Filmfare Award acceptance and his own personal connection to Dharmendra's acting.
Volunteers at the Golden Temple's community kitchen observe diverse eating habits among devotees. Preferences vary from requesting specific combinations of dishes to how they eat: with hands or utensils. Kheer is universally enjoyed. The shared meal experience, alongside the food, contributes to the kitchen's spiritual energy.
The author, initially disappointed by a single-booth assignment as an IAS trainee, later became the Election Commissioner of India. This experience, guided by his trainer, provided invaluable ground-level understanding of democratic processes, ultimately shaping his leadership and policy decisions.
Radios were luxury items due to licensing fees. Poor families improvised crystal radios using scrap parts, but even these needed licenses. They used headphones as a makeshift telephone. Later, the author used a circuit to disrupt a neighbor's loud radio.
A banker in 1970s Himachal met an orchardist's sister, an architect and painter, through a painting exhibition. Initially denied a meeting, they reconnected when he was captivated by her artwork. Their eventual marriage was seemingly preordained, the painting a cherished reminder.
In 2006, the author assisted an ashram in Patiala. In 2019, they helped reunite a Bengali woman, Anjali, with her family. Through community efforts and connections, they located her family in West Bengal and then her in-laws in Uttar Pradesh, facilitating her return home.
Militaries commemorate their history by naming bases and buildings. The article debunks the popular misconception that the IAF's Thoise airfield is an acronym. It clarifies that Thoise's name likely derives from the nearby village of Terchey, whose residents built the airstrip.
A new veterinary officer in Darjeeling faced a problem: mules from his transport company kept invading a neighboring battalion. The Major, annoyed by complaints, sought a solution. The VO suggested an Ashvamedha Yagya, which was rejected as impractical by the unit's priest.
Friends reminisced about the communal joy of past celebrations, contrasting them with modern, curated events. Though nostalgia paints a rosy picture, the group preferred the comforts of the present. They concluded the key is to retain the spirit of togetherness while embracing modern conveniences.
The author reflects on modern hardness, contrasting it with the perceived stillness and inherent stories within stones. Inspired by a found poem and his mother's words, he emphasizes empathy's erosion, symbolized by apathy and disconnection. He finds hope in simple human connection and urges readers to choose kindness over coldness.
Waiting at the bus stop, the narrator observes a diverse group sharing moments of camaraderie despite the bus's tardiness. Waiting fosters observation, introspection, and unexpected shared experiences, from humor to patience. Even in frustration, these moments offer a sense of freedom and connection before the bus inevitably arrives, ending the shared pause.
Radios were central to life in the 1960s-70s, providing news, entertainment, and a sense of community. Owning a radio was a status symbol, used for cricket commentary, news, and agricultural information. Repairing radios was common, and they held sentimental value, representing simpler times and shared experiences.
The author has an obsessive habit of buying books, experiencing withdrawal symptoms when unable to. They dislike borrowing, struggling with lending due to the difficulty of retrieving loaned books. Seeing borrowed books unreturned or damaged causes anxiety and affects relationships. They are trying to understand this strong attachment to their books.
A civil servant recounts a humorous experience involving a superstitious bus driver. The driver refused to proceed after a black cat crossed their path. They were saved when a jeep also encountered the cat, which then diverted, having caught a rat, allowing the journey to continue.
A new mother observed her friend's calm handling of her overexcited twin sons eating dried fruit. The friend's compassionate approach, prioritizing the children's well-being over social expectations, profoundly influenced the author's parenting perspective. It emphasized acceptance of childhood's natural messiness and the importance of allowing children freedom and understanding.
Keralan Nairs briefly celebrated filmmaker Mira Nair's son's mayoral win, believing she was Malayali. This excitement was dashed when it was revealed she was a Punjabi Nayyar. The incident highlights the Nairs' struggle for relevance in Kerala, caught between past influence and present marginalization, even humorously extending to a cat's surname.