Category: Uncategorized

.It is a correct addage someone has rightly coined  Man wishes god disposes. Well an incident occurred in my life which disturbed the basic fabric of a grand plan.It also taught me a great lesson to be humble and set the balls of one’s dreams rolling. As for pride allow it go as a lone Ranger….

My mother used to always say that to stay is to exist, to travel is to life.Life was treating us good. Retired life after four decades of active strenuous work basically for livelihood and well being of the family. Our life oscillated  between Kolkata..City of my birth and where we settled.. .Dubai..where our daughter’s family  works and resides….to be basically with our infant twin grandsons for enjoying joy and bliss seeing them growing up and London where our son and Daughter in Law works and stay. ….Meeting friends and playing occasionally  a round of golf..frequent snoozing and enjoying reading plethora of books of various subjects made our life really worthy of living.Off course the yearly family outings in distant places ..both inside and outside the Country added that extra Zing..and Spice in our quiet and Non Happening Lives.I again remembered  my Mother’s saying…., enjoy the little things, they measure up to greatest enjoyment in life….how true and correct she was often I felt.



In January  2020 we had planned to visit USA on family vacation. We were at Dubai..and my son and his wife was to join us from their place of residence.One month with the children and grandsons enjoying Gand Canyon..Disney Land..Niagara Falls..Texas Casino .. Washington DC and other such tourist locations were in our Bucket List.With our niece in New York..brother of my daughter in law in  Chicago  and my son in law’s sister family in Iowa..and few friends on other states catered for our local sightseeing..transportation and stay. Itinerary were made every day..changed..amended.. reammended…airlines availability and debate between Home Stay/Hotel were browsed regularly.Well to be honest we all were eager and wanted to replicate our previous family vacations .


Little steps are perhaps the beginning of a lovely journey….this is what I had heard and always believed. Perhaps it was in March when the seriousness of COVID 19 or Wuhan Virus struck the world.Fortunately good sense prevailed in us as we decided to adhere to wait and watch policy before finalising and booking our Airlines..Stay and Transportation details.However due to some buisness commitments I had to go back to the country for a fortnight.Some official documents required the signature of Proprietor regarding payment  which our Manager was unable to do inspite of giving him the Authority and Power of Attorney.Moreover some new contract was in the offering and it was felt by all that my personal rapport and charisma may tilt the deal in our favour…So much ..perhaps it was the start of an ordeal which is better forgotten.

I started back alone on 10 March with a hope to be back within a fortnight after completing my jobs succesfully. Although with the spread of the Pandemic I was bit sceptical, but the precautionary arrangements  made by my daughter regarding gloves.. masks and sanitizer gave me a feeling that everything would be fine.I again remembered my Mother’s words that, … hope is important because it can make the present moment less difficult to bear ….this thoughts edged me to venture to country and back. Perhaps the gravity of the Pandemic was not thought so grave by me…I was mistaken as in the Airport I could sense the silence and the sulleness.


At Dubai airport I could notice many blank faces of people who had been told to return back  indefinitely. The livelihood of those people and thinking about their folks home were enough for me to feel homesick. I did silently  offered my prayers to Saibaba for blessing us and protecting us from facing such adverse situations.However I remembered a quote from RUMI….it is not fear that gives wings but love does .Inspite of wanting to talk to those peoples about their impending thoughts , I refrained myself as for the first time I thought that I would be unable to face them and give them some solace.



On reaching Kolkata..after a preliminary checking I could come out of the Airport and reach home. However those blank eyes haunted me till date. Immediately on return I could finish my impending tasks which unfortunately could had been done by Manager itself. I  was  thus  mentally prepared to return back. However with each passing days the situation seemed to deteoriate and government all over the world had started contemplating stricter quarantine and other precautionary measures.  In India…domestic flights..inter state train and other movements stopped and it seemed suddenly everybody was  geared  up to face this Pandemic.My daughter also sensed it and could manage  Tickets and VISA for me to travel on the last day before Air travel and Entry to UAE was to stop. Only one EMIRATES flight was operating in the morning.I being a less optimistic person started thinking about the Worst Case scenario when my wife rang up and told that, not to be too quick to interpret the situation. She told me to be quiet as there must be something good awaiting me ….

On 18 March I did reach Airport and got my checking in done without any major fuss . However at the Immigration  the desk officer told me to wait and after getting clarification from higher ups did stamp my Passport and allowed me….So far so good…In my exuberance to reach my family I reached Airport quite early to get all my formalities done..eat my breakfast and then be ready to board the flight.However one more situation disturbed me…. Generally in the morning at Kolkata airport there were lot of footfalls but it was barren less few International Flyers.This was understood as domestic flights were stopped and most International Carriers were barred to land and  fly out  from the city.However closure of all shops less one selling bottled water baffled me.


Crossing  my fingers I along with co passengers were awaiting in the Departure Lounge when I heard my name and one more name being called out by the Airlines Staff to report to the Front Desk. Well both of us were told that UAE had suspended entry of all Persons  issued with Tourist Visa…only those  with Resident Visa were allowed to travel. Sulkingly we were being escorted back but as we had been Security  Checked we were told to wait before being escorted out. The lady Airline Staff who was helping us although told that talks were being initiated with EMIRATES officials in Dubai for confirmation of allowing us  to board the flight as special case. At the last moment the approval had come and puffing and panting both of us boarded the flight. Thanking God Almighty for his mercy we took our allotted seat. She being newly married going for the first time to be with her husband…and me a veteran going to be with my  extended    family…..The flight was not the usual comfort of EMIRATES flight….we encountered airpockets in random through out the journey and my sixth sense was somewhat pricking me subconsciously  that there is something amiss….KAHANI MEIN KAHIN TWIST HAI….



Landing in Terminal 1 in Dubai International Airport was uneventful.However I did notice there was less hustle bustle in the Airport. The Immigration Counter was quite vacant which to me was very unusal.  On reaching the Counter we were told to report to Airport Manager where we were told that at 12 PM …Government had issued orders that persons with Tourist Visa’s were not  to be allowed to enter UAE .  They were to be deported back to their originating station by first available Return Flight. We were told to report to Emirates office inside the airport only.No amount of pleas..request..cajole could melt the ice and yielded only negative outcome. Finding the Airlines office was another Herculean Task….Almost walking from one corner of the Airport to other extreme Corner..one finally could locate the EMIRATES office . To my dismay there was a long que of passengers of different Nationalities from different destination awaiting their turn to be accommodated in First Available Return Flight home. In my wildest dreams I could never even imagined  to face such a situation and the ordeal thereto.

I recollect one piece from a book I read.It says that if 100 black and red ants are put in a jar..nothing happens. But if the jar is shaken and kept it in a table the ants starts killing each other thinking each other as enemy. It is true in our Society when you have Rich vs Poor…Left vs Right….Gossips vs Rumours….vs Hatred …Religion vs Religion and Countries vs Countries…..but at this crucial catastrophic time the paragraphs which I read seemed to be all wrong. Perhaps united by common cause there was total harmony breaking the barrier of region..colour..creed..caste.status …or religion . A sight unless seen seems unreal.


After seeing the situation around me I realised again to a gospel of my mother when I was swimming against the tide in Academy….She used to always tell that the current situation is not your final destination. Listen to Silence, it has much to say….So be it I thought while standing in the line to get my registration done for the return flight. My thoughts were broken when I saw two persons almost in tears talking amongst themselves that their money is in the booked luggage which was not made accessible…and they were not given the return ticket as they were in Working Visa issued by the Employing Organisation…or requisite money to survive in the Airport….and their phone balance has reduced as the Agent who recruited them was Untraceable. Similiar was the case with an African lady and her husband when I heard them telling the Airport officials to allow them to get their booked luggage to get Milk for their twin infant children.Somebody who was in dire need of medicine pleading to the official to allow access to their booked luggage for medicines . Perhaps none of them including me contemplated such situation. I was also a victim of my such indiscretion  as my essential medicines barring those for the journey was with me and there was hardly any drinking water bottle . But again quoting a para of a recently read book that, everytime you find humour in any situation you win .So I started seeing the better part of this ordeal. I thought so many things could had happened…the crashing of  rocking aircraft..deadly virus affecting or the fear of unknown ..but I was safe observing things around .



Due to over usage of numerous passengers the Airport WhatsApp was very feeble. But fortunately before it could get  clogged I could inform my near and dear ones and my family about my present imbroglio. My daughter with her high level contact in the Government Machinery through her Bosses gave me momentarily solace but then I resigned to the fact when I came to know  that  it was an universal directions from the Government ,even top police official was unable to help me.Another thing my daughter told me to be safe in the airport and voice message them on development as whatsapp messages both Video and Audio would not be possible.



I recollected my Regimental Religious Teacher’s discourse when we were moving to Siachen Glacier,… God doesn’t give hardest battle to its toughest soldiers. He creates toughest soldiers to fight through life’s hardest battle……How true was it in this scenario.Generally as both me and my wife travel together the money..credit/debit card was generally kept with her.But due to foresight of my daughter she ensured 1500 dirhams..her debit card  with me. Moreover  I also had my Indian Credit/Debit Card which were also available in case required. Secondly in all our previous air journey we like everybody used to book ourself in the best available deal..not necessary to be returning by same airlines. But in this case as only EMIRATES were plying both my onward and return journey was booked with the same airline. Lastly the first available direct flight to Kolkata was available at late night and there were two seats available which by drawing the Fastest fingers First I could manage.Blessings and Mercies of Saibaba and God Almighty.I realised that it was better to believe in one’s gut feelings, respecting the inner guide and adhering the personal wisdom and advice of family members. …

While standing in que for getting confirmation  of return ticket availability one was perplexed and pained to see some relieved faces who were fortunate to get confirmation seats in first available return flight to their country and mostly dejected faces of many who were not so fortunate. With sceptic mind I did approach the booking lady and was relieved when she confirmed my return  by the first available flight . There was a Afghani duo in the next counter who were to travel to Kabul via Islamabad..they were denied return flight even though the seats were available as they had booked by some other airlines. I saw two large families perhaps of German and Russian origin who were told about non availability  of seats and was given an option to either book themselves by some other Airlines or stay in the airport for two days to avail first available flight of EMIRATES.



The scene within the airport was something unless seen can be believed. Shedding caste..creed..colour..race or religion the true face of humankind  was so promptly visible.  There was an old Arab lady who had fainted and suffered a mild concussion being attended by perhaps an African doctor so passionately…there was an European couple dire need of drinking water  being provided by a small boy which reminded me of a saying…A true hero isn’t measured by the size of his strength but a strength of heart. A Pakistani couple seeing me from the same region offered to share their meal with me.Group of different ethnic culture sharing their food/water and in one case I saw somebody sharing medicine also…what Camaderie…Perhaps I had never and will never witness in my lifetime, unification of mankind tormented by similiar cause….I with all humility learned the Virtues of human values and diversity of Region and Religion…..

As I had some eight/nine hours before I could board my return flight I choose to explore the airport from One section to Another…Another spectacular  scene awaited me..in one Section I saw a group of few Africans playing Music and singing/dancing with crowds and officials cheering them up..there was another enterprising gentlemen perhaps American who was busy organising a sit and draw Competetion ( only sketch) for the children…while an old lady telling stories to few toddlers and babies….HAMASTU..HAMIASTU…for me the Heaven seemed to be there inspite of all personal agony…Again I remembered a quotation from some novel that, Activity is another name for happiness. It gives unfethered play to one’s unique talents living with full radiance of one’s being. A real meaning to be Truly Alive. ….

Yours truly motivated by such gestures and activities took four Bangladeshis to a restaurant and paid for their dinner. As I had some money I could purchase few sanitisers and gave to few transients who were not in a position to afford it….Again remembered my Mother’s saying.When you choose joy, good is felt and you do good which will remind others the joy of happiness….

The return flight was something very sullen and sad for me. Fortunately I was upgraded to Buisness  Class where one prominent Bengali actor with some crews were also travelling. The hero and his accomplice through out the journey kept aloof as if worried about  some sort of plague infection…on the contrary there were a group of Bengali Marwaris who took it upon themselves to visit Economy class distributing food..medicines and water beside those provided by the Airline. I also joined that group and entire flight of six/seven hours I did interact with the fellow passengers. Their blank eyes and fear of uncertain future spoke their anguish and agony…they were jobless and returning back devoid of their livelihood. 


At Kolkata airport after scrutinisation selected people were left especially those  from European destination who were travelling via Dubai as direct European flights were banned by Indian Government.. However all Gulf passengers were detained for checking and isolation/segregation/quarantine. I was fortunate to be left as the lady who was there previous morning while I boarded the onward flight . She ensured by talking to the official for excusing me. However one humorous event I cannot help to mention. Inspite of the Pandemic and gloomy situation everybody was carrying their Duty Free Liquour…in fact one gentleman requested me to buy my quota and give it to him….really funny 🤔🤔🤔


 Back home was a secure and comforting feeling for me and my family. My near and dear ones and well wishers were relieved after receiving the news of  my safe reaching. This situation and turn of event made me realise that ..The best thing in this world is to know how to be oneself ….Perhaps my return was ordained because after few days of my arrival back the catastrophic  AMPHAN struck West Bengal. My maid ..driver..and my erstwhile maid’s family were severely hit. With no work..money and destruction of the property they were in a helpless  position. With all humility and help of my children I could reinstate them reasonably  …side by side aiding few NGOs with which one is associated to help the needy and homeless personnel especially in East Midnapore and Sunderbans.I realised that Perhaps you a
nd your purpose in life are the same. Your purpose is to be You……..

I had since returned back to Dubai on 18 August at first window of opportunity available…the biggest lesson for me is that, Everything is temporary, emotions, thoughts, people and scenery. It is futile to be attached, just flow with it as all problems are Illusions of Mind.

Maybe I was too emotional penning my thoughts but I can say with conviction that anybody whom I met or was there in Dubai airport must have felt the same way. I have never met so many beautiful souls together at one place sometimes it seems it was a dream…love of human mankind..🙏🙏🙏

Being a blue blooded BANGALI …from my childhood like many others of my Bengali siblings I had weaknesses for MONKEY CAP…UMBRELLAS…PHISH( Fish)….MUTTON CURRY WITH HOT RICE FOR SUNDAY LUNCH..PHUTBOLL( FOOTBALL)…SWEETS OF VARIOUS CONCOTION..ARDENT TRAVELLING and YES you heard it right…the OMNIPRESENT luxury the KOLBALISH or PASHBALISH which are found in different sizes for all ages in any Bedding Stores in BENGAL.

We the Bengalis(Residents of the State of West Bengal) ..irrespective of our caste..creed..colour..languages..political/religious affinity are invoked through cliches known to others through…ROSOGOLLAS…DURGA PUJA…TRAMS..HOWRAH BRIDGE..YELLOW TAXIS but it is possesion and usage of only PASHBALISH OR KOLBALISH makes a Bengali a TRUE BANGALI.

To be straight and honest other than a Bengali no body truly understands the power or value of KOLBALISH.  They are attached to its strings like small unborn babies are attached to their mother’s umbilical chords. The relation between a True Bengali and KOLBALISH  are irrevocable and wedded for life. The idea of the comfort and safety of side pillows are deeply embedded into conscious/unconscious  psyche of our creed.

The bedding composition in small/medium/big size luxury Bengali owned hotels..Government Guest Houses/Tourist Lodges/Guest houses are not complete if there are no KOLBALISH  in its package .Does it not prove our eternal love for this valuable item and its unparalleled popularity. For us BONGs….HAPPINESS IS HUGGING A KOLBALISH AND SLEEPING LATE ON WEEKENDS…..

If somebody is of impression that a PASHBALISH  can be easily made with some left over unused clothes stuffed in a cloth cocoon like stuffing a gunny bag or beans bag…then the individual is miles off the target. On the contrary it must have a real cotton stuffing and as per my Paternal Grandmother..the stuffed cotton must have prominent cotton seeds protruding outside to act as BABY NIPPLES.The seeds must be easy to roll through fingers by the child to provide a MOTHERLY FEELING before  getting immersed into deep peaceful slumber. For a Bengali like me who had grown up with this novel invention…AN ETERNAL MATE…GOOD MORNING  OR GOOD NIGHT…JUST INSEPARABLE….REALLY LUCKY TO HAVE IT IN MY LIFE…JUST MINE…SIMPLY MINE……

In fact a Proper KOLBALISH  or PASHBALISH must be a plain spotless white cotton cover pulled through draw stick. Now a days with everything DESIGNER..there are hoardes of Designer Pashbaalish in the market. However for an old timer like me nothing can beat the classic 100 percent cotton ones properly stuffed with pure cotton inside..

However I did encountered a bizarre experience which forced me to change my old habit of wearing White Pyjama while retiring to bed for the night.One may ask why such an obnoxious crazy decision….well it happened during one of my official visit as part of an official entourage abroad.As I was told to be part of the visiting team being a Staff officer to a Army Senior Officer at short notice, I had requested my wife to pack my stuff which I was to pick up on way to Airport.My wife dutiful as she is packed all stuff properly ironed.  But the calamity and catastrophe started when I unpacked my stuff for the night after an Official Dinner and found that instead of my favourite white pyjamas she had packed a spotless KOLBALISH  cover mistakingly. My plight for those seven days was just miserable.As for Security Reasons our hotel rooms were fitted with CCTV Cameras I could not sleep in my birthday suit less I be mistaken for something otherwise….hotel white towels and White Towel gowns came to my rescue.  However with every ring especially for the house cleaning staff which were predominantly  female I had to hide in the washroom pretending taking a bath in cold wintery weather and coming out with my dressing gown properly wrapped whenever house cleaning Staff left
the room. So perplexed was I that I requested the Assistance to direct the house cleaning maids to clean the room during my absence. I did tell my predicament to the Hotel Manager who laughed out aloud and presented me with a beautiful hand sewn white Turkish Towel gown as a parting gift. Till date I have that beautiful white bath gown properly covered and kept as a memory of my seven days ordeal in far off land and for reminding me my vow to never wear a white pyjama as Night Dress…🤣🤣🤣

In our younger days it used to be a religious affair like any other Bengali family twice a year to churn over the cotton inside all pillows with special emphasis on KOLBALISH  to maintain its puffiness and its softness/cosiness by the weavers in terraces. Unfortunately with our Mechanical life style this unique ritual has since ceased in urban areas in majority of our households.For a die hard son of the Bengal soil I remember my uncle’s saying…MY FRIEND..YEARS AND YEARS WILL PASS..TEARS WILL DIE..SMILE MAY CEASE…BUT THE EXISTING BONDAGE WITH PASHBALISH  WILL NEVER END…..To keep our childhood memory intact the initial cotton used during childhood is recycled for further used properly churned till it becomes dust. A glittering example of CONSERVATION OF RESOURCES…But till date one thing remain  ambiguous that KOLBALISH or PASHBALISH  mostly remain an integral part of Male domain in most of our household…for a Male BONG…THEY WOULD BE INCOMPLETE WITHOUT HAVING A SIDEPILLOW AS THEIR OWN…THEIR FIRST LOVE AND PERHAPS LAST LOVE BEFORE DYING…..

Kolbalish in Bengali comprises of two parts…KOL MEANS LAP…BALISH MEANS PILLOW OR A LAP PILLOW IN ENGLISH..It can be hugged or cuddled passionately  and slowly it turns into an item of BUDDING ROMANCES.
FAILED RELATIONS…REPOSITORY TEARS…BROKEN DREAMS or just for  MERE COMFORT by keeping it in a lap.I have seen my grandfather keeping biscuits and snacks plate during morning bed tea or evening after siesta tea.For my sisters it used to be their best friend…THERAPIST AND NURSEMAID rolled into one. Perhaps the young ladies of our house were impressed to see old times Bengali movie heroines cuddling their side pillows and speaking/singing with  dreamy eyes. Once I heard my eldest sister comforting my elder brother TO TIDE OVER HIS ROMANTIC PROBLEMS BY JUST SLEEPING WITH HIS KOLBALISH….she told him that GIRLFRIEND/ BOYFRIEND MAY COME AND GO BUT A EVER FAITHFUL PASHBALISH WILL ALWAYS BE THERE TO MOTIVATE FOR FIRTHER SOJURNS……It was only did I realise in my life later that KOLBALISH REMAINS WITH US THROUGH FAILURES..DESPAIR…UNEMPLOYMENT…HEARTBREAKS…HAPPINESS AND MAY BE EVEN WAR…..

When I joined National Defence Academy, my old grandmother insisted that KOLBALISH  be packed in my bed roll.Fortunately/Unfortunately her desire and decision was vetoed by my grandfather and father . But I confess now that I remembered sleepless nights as Cadet in Academy being separated from my friends..families…hhome cooked food and off course my friend and confidante my PASHBALISH.  I did try putting my head pillows as substitute but that divine comfort was sadly missing. When I used to come back on vacation  nothing could spelt home more than the comfort of my KOLBALISH.  It was the same soft..dependable..cost effective..comforting as I had left it. Nothing could substitute the peace and tranquility  which I felt with my friend..not even the only AC room in my uncle’s room those days..As far as Iam concerned I echo my grandmother golden words that TRUE LOVE HAPPENS ONCE IN YOUR LIFE TIME BUT KOLBALISH IS THERE FOREVER….

Every Bengali household generally have an unique PASHBALISH or KOLBALISH  history of it’s own. In our young days when generally journey used to be mostly through Trains…the compulsory baggage for any journey used to be BED ROLL or HOLD ALL and its major constituent used to be the Bong favourite KOLBALISH…the Security Blankets of us BANGALIS.I still remember two incidents very vividly till date.During one of our train journey ( family tour) to Hardwar and Rishikesh we a large group were travelling with proper reservation in Doon Express.One of my uncle with big protruding belly was in the uppermost berth. It was well after dinner perhaps midnight when we all woke up with shout from the opposite lower berth where my auntie was sleeping. We all woke up to see my uncle dangling from the berth almost about to fall deep asleep with his PASHBALISH  strongly sandwiched between his legs.On being awakened he promptly told that it would had been all right if he had fallen as long he could ensure the KOLBALISH  properly in the berth. As per him it would had been disgrace to hurt the vanity and sanctity of KOLBALISH  beside his true love getting dirty.

Second incident I remember when we saw one of my elder sister dangling in the Mosquito Net deeply asleep in  Rishikesh Dharamshala with Kolbalish firmly between her legs…..Both these incidents only prove that as long as comfort of PASHBALISH  is there any sane/insane Bengali can sleep peacefully …contented with no fear in the world.

I have heard stories about Bengali children often crying in posh hotels when not provided Pashbalish..not being considered by the authoroties an essential part of the bedding.The crying used to be stopped only when such side pillows were provided..even if required to be procured from local market.
There is perhaps no deep peaceful  sleep without PASHBALISH…the greatest and innovative invention Bengali has ever made as per my Dadu’s saying. You feel elevated ..elated and regal with PASHBALISH  beside you he always felt.But once I grew up I started validating my Dadu’s saying and statement. It then got revealed to me that such concocted pillows albeit made of stone used to be in vogue in Mesopotamian…Roman and Greek civilisation. In fact if you are Asterix fans such numerous depiction in all Inns is  very prominently displayed.I also found out that even in Egyptian civilisation pillows of cylindrical curved structures extensively used to rest the tired heads.But nevertheless being a Proud Bengali Iam convinced that the soft ..modern comfortable KOLBALISH  is created by some enterprising Bengali although history says that it is during Chinese Civilisation  stone side pillows were changed to soft lin en one.😋😋🙄🙄🙄

In our family there was never any precedence of demanding items from bride’s house.Our elders were against any dowry and it is still believed in our family that every parents gives their daughter the best during marriage  as per their affordability. During our marriage there was never a question of any exception especially when our marriage was culminating after our courtship.

My maternal widowed grandmother was a very witty person but all her jokes.. statements..sentences used always used to culminate into BELOW THE BELT( DADA KONDKE TYPE) ones much to our embarrassment.  However to be fair to her all of us irrespective of age used to generally wait for her so called NON VEGETERIAN JOKES/COMMENTS AND HER COLOURFUL VISIONARY TIT BITS AND TALKS.

While discussing items for the marriage my grandmother or DIDA told my mother to ensure that a pure white cotton  PASHBALISH  or KOLBALISH  of best quality  be ensured by bride’s family. On being asked  her about such weird demand , she without batting an eyelid said that Married Men especially who is about to tie the nuptial  knot do not require such side pillows as life flesh and blood KOLBALISH  for comfort is always available every night. But for a widow like her for last ten years she was in desperate need of one.She further added that KOLBALISH IS THE ONLY CREATIVE THING THAT SERV ES COMPLETELY  WITHOUT ANY FEAR OF LOOSING ONE ‘S CHASTITY.

Later through her we came to know that such sidepillows existed in other South Asian countries as well. In Japan and in many South Asian countries the wives used to pack the self scented sidepillows when their husband’s used to proceed to far away counries for personal or buisness reasons. It was meant to be a substitute for the flesh blooded wives which the husband could wrap and cuddle snugly  before falling asleep.In Indonesia it was known as DUTCH WIVES

Iam sure most of us see Movies. Except Bengali Movies I do not recollect  the actor/actress singing with sidepillows as a prop. Few days back I saw a Hollywood Movies 1942 Love Story where a HAIRY hero portraying romance was rendering some romantic melody by tearing a head pillow.For a Bengali it was TOTAL DISRESPECT TO A TRUSTED FRIEND. In Bengali movies on the contrary especially the older ones one could frequently see hero/heroine singing soulful songs while toying with the PASHBALISH.Even in Bengali Detective  Movies the hero generally solves any mystery or case by smoking cigarettes lying on the bed with KOLBALISH as foot rest.Ironical but true our ideas frutify only when there is a trusted KOLBALISH or PASHBALISH  at our side.I was told by my sister that one popular Bengali band has composed a hit song on KOLBALISH. 🤔🤔🤔

Lately the famous KOLBALISH  has been used as political overtures  by none other than the CM of the state.Lately during  COVID 19 scare Mockery and Caricature was initiated on CMs direction to sleep in the house with COVID 19 as PASHBALISH. Without being political I personally feel that most did not understood her contention of the statement. She must have meant as an advice to all to stay at home keeping COVID 19 at bay  by treating it as sidepillows..a friend by taking all precautions. Think …does any one other than Bengalis can think about such simile or Metaphor….🙄🙄🙄🙄

I end again with some quotes of my DIDA for all readers to understand holistically the importance of KOLBALISH or PASHBALISH in our Bangali lives…her golden words were…

KOLBALISH does not gain/loose weight like a lady…it always remain the same…..

It does not nag or complain like a typical wife. It supports your dreams no matter what they are…

It does not demand any birthday/Anniversary celebration or gift. Only a new white cotton cover every year is enough to maintain peace and tranquility…..

KOLBALISH was/is there when you were NOBODY/OR WHEN PRESENT STATURE IS ATTAINED…

So hope you all would agree that like all Bengalis..KOLBALISH is the BEST ALL WEATHER FRIEND…AND EVERY BANGALI IS PROUD OF IT….Do try it…May be productive and useful😂😂😂

ACADEMY MUSINGS….1


1. It is often heard that records are being made and again bettered subsequently in all fields of activities. Well your truly was also an exceptional record holder in his Academy Days but albeit from the reverse side.The spectacular performance started from first semester or  term and continued all six semesters till passing out…For records… Always on the magic figure of 41 not out..restrictions one less for relegation eligibility beside numerous small punishments.😔😔😔


2. Just fresh from civvies street one came to know the alternative name of Inspection of Squadron Residential rooms known as cabins was CABIN CUPBOARD and its modus operandi which was another MONKEY ON OUR BACK beside other tiring  outdoor physical activities for us freshers..🙄🙄🙄Painstakingly we were tutored about  the items to be displayed ( Toothpaste..Shaving Cream..Razor..Shaving Brush..Tooth brush..Tin of powder and Bottle of cream..and Hair Oil( no gel..or brylcream)….Strict .No to Deo…. Perfume or After Shave Lotion) …and its location in the cabin including doing up the bed..tieing of mosquito nets..shoes and even bathroom slippers location by the appointment holders.🤨🤨🤨


3. Sanjay( name changed)… the TANT from Pune..Ajay( Name changed).. the BABUA from Laloo land and me from City of Joy were good friends and subsequently known as famous TRINITY..One thing that united us… seventeen year youngsters were unlike Burly well built hairy brethren ..sorry creatures from the India’s heartland..we were fragile specimens with hardly any trace of hair on our lips or chin….Shantanu and Uday ( My childhood school mates till Higher Secondary)…Iam sure can recollect our school days.😋😋😋


4. As Shaving kit was an important displaying item we were in a dilema.Tant came with a great idea of displaying ANNE FRENCH in lieu which he saw his sister using to effect. However he candidly confessed that he would get his father’s razor set and Babua was promised one from his fellow countrymen Thakur of our Barber shop. That leaves me and without any other  alternative  decided to take a cheeky single .Procuring new one from local shopping centre was also a NO GO. due to paucity of allotted pocket money.Sanjay being a true friend slipped during night surreptitiously and cycling 20 Kms to and fro got his sister’s bottle of Anne French ..swab of cotton and plastic spatula .😉😉😉


5. The inspection was a disaster which started with a bad omen.A stray mongrel who took asylum under the window of my cabin started crying and wailing as soon as Inspecting Officer along with appointment holders entered my cabin.😈😈😈


6. The Divisional Officer was dumbfounded and perplexed to see bottle of ANNE FRENCH with its accessories proudly displayed where the Shaving Kits were ought  to be…He almost fainted on hearing me that the lotion is being used by me to maintain smoothness of my skin as I do not have stubble on my chin or hair on my. lips. Groggily he told the Cadet Sergent Major to check my sex and granted me 7 days Extra Drills as hard punishments were barred   to be given to the freshers for first two months ..The sadistic Sergent Major went a step further and forced me to  dry shave with  blunt razor given by him without any cream. Result was scarred face like JOE the INJUN and fertile field of rich and healthy growth of hair every morning on the face.🤨🤨🤨


7. Being an optimistic man I started appreciating the positive side of this incident. Although I opened the innings for my course on punishment but became a folklore amongst my coursemates and squadron mates  and was nicknamed as DADA … FAMOUS…or is it  INFAMOUS for  DADAGIRI….😊😊🤣🤣


PS..If this episode is liked shall continue with further Academy Musings which can be continued for at least  10 days. Honest feedback is solicited….Regards

A book review:

Serendipity of Soldiering

Soldiers, traverse far and wide, not only physically but oscillate a great deal emotionally and spiritually, by virtue of their service to the nation. A lone sentry on freezing night, at mountain top, taking gusty windchill on the face, away from family for months, does go into sporadic virtual flight of fantasy or get into internal dual questioning life, death, love, relationship, patriotism. There are many adventurous situations a soldier faces day in day out, going through great emotional stresses. It is here that unknowingly he evolves into higher human self. A soldier, in twilight of his life wants to share the extraordinary life, that he was chosen to lead, simply to relive those exciting moments, for the joy of good old days.
Colonel Badal Verma, has shared his experiences, and modestly calls them ordinary. And, what life changing experiences, narration and his own evolvement as man. He, has very thoughtfully chosen the title, Serendipity of Soldiering, which kindles much curiosity in the minds of readers.
Colonel, tells his stories in simple and lucid language making the book unputdownable. Most thrilling ones are his near death experiences, a strange connect with snakes, pristine Gurkha heart, his trust with his command and spirit of Infantryman.
The author, has also admirably woven his personal relationships into the ups and downs, curves and bends of path that he leaves behind in time, and now gazes it from a ripen wisdom.
A highly recommended book across all ages, genders and professions. My personal advice, don’t judge the book from its cover. The taste of pudding is in eating it, and for book – reading it.

INSIDE THE MIND OF XI JINPING.

By Francois Bougon.

Couldn’t resist reading this book, when China is, all in the air and for all the wrong reasons.

Francois Bougon, has come out very timely with his work, helping the readership to know Xi Jinping closely. To better assimilate his work a working knowledge about Chinese history and culture would be essential.
Initial chapters of the book kindled a sense of deja vu in my mind about Shri Narendra Modi ji, our honorable Prime Minister. But how each delivered is a different story.
Xi took reigns of PRC,with a great resolve to strengthen the Chinese nation from its core. He set up many special commissions (small groups), that reported directly to him. These included, Taiwan & Foreign Affairs, Economic Reforms, National Security, Cyber Security and Computerisation,and later National Defence and Military Reforms.
A diplomatic telegram from American Embassy reported ” Xi, is not interested in money but you can say he is corrupted by power”. Power, is intoxicating. A scientific study at Oxford reported :

“Power, especially absolute and unchecked power, is intoxicating. Its effects occur at the cellular and neurochemical level. … The primary neurochemical involved in the reward of power that is known today is dopamine, the same chemical transmitter responsible for producing a sense of pleasure.”
https://theconversation.com/the-neurochemistry-of-power-has-implications-for-political-change-23844

Xi is determined and clear in his aim to realise the the Grand Chinese Dream. His ambitions can we’ll be deduced from, I quote from the book ” Chinese Dream which must be extensive and belong to all of the humanity. …one day world will be thankful for China’s existence.

Xi, has broken with the Low profile doctrine of Deng, building nationalism even if it means revival of old enmity with Japan, even if it involves explicitly identifying the United States as great twenty first century enemy, she must not hesitate.
What sets apart Xi from his predecessors is his tendency to use the Military tool not for engaging in military action, but for conducting his foreign policy. It puts the aggression in Eastern Ladakh into context, when read with US & Japan as twenty-first century enemies.
The author also exposes, the infamous Document-9 Xi issued to his Politburo. It identifies nine threats that could subvert, and implode Chinese polity, and Western Powers will relentlessly attempt at. It gives away the Achilles heels of the Empire in making. History is witness to the fact that authoritarian regimes have finite reigning time.
Yet, the Trojan War must be fought to kill Achilles, and some Hectors must be sacrificed.

From DPS AUJLA, F/C/55

I commiserate at the job of the watchman guarding Kapoor café in NDA at night; he has to be fully alert and on the guard to thwart any raid by marauding hungry cadets. But for once he also rubbed his eyes in disbelief at what lay before him. Fire was bellowing out of first floor tea room flank of Fox squadron.

He immediately rushed to the ground floor and found the senior cadets residing below already awake and looking for the origins of smoke. He guided them to the affected cabin where smoke was coming out like the chimney of a Mandi Gobind Garh foundry. Few but persistent knocks at the door yielded no response as it was bolted.CSM Jasbir Singh a tough senior cadet then did a quick pull up holding the wire mesh that was called seventh heaven to have a peep inside. He was terrified seeing the study table burning and a cadet sprawled half on the bed with legs dangling down. All the banging brought me to life and I opened the bolt just before it gave way. The fire party rushed in and put off the fire in no time.

I had been preparing for the very first camp for NDA cadets aptly named camp Greenhorn in the evening when ‘Lights out’ was announced. A towel was carefully wrapped around the table lamp and I continued packing my kit ensuring nothing was left behind. Once done and kept on the table, I needed to stretch my back for a few moments. ‘Just a few moments’, I muttered to myself but the sleep deprived body was soon lost in deep dreamless slumber.

The towel got overheated and started burning spreading it to the dungarees, FSMO pack and other items. The flames were thankfully observed by the alert watchman down below.

After my honest confession, everyone went back to bed but I was left virtually penniless as far as my kit/dress items were concerned, only a few hours before departure for the camp. Salute the never say die spirit of a Rimcollian that I arranged every single piece required in those few hours while the world slept blissfully. The old idiom ‘Beg, Borrow or Steal’ actually works best when all of them are combined together making it ‘Beg, Borrow and Steal’.

 

From DPS Aujla F/C/55

 

Fire in Fighter Squadron
I commiserate at the job of the watchman guarding Kapoor café in NDA at night; he has to be fully alert and on the guard to thwart any raid by marauding hungry cadets. But for once he also rubbed his eyes in disbelief at what lay before him. Fire was bellowing out of first floor tea room flank of Fox squadron.
He immediately rushed to the ground floor and found the senior cadets residing below already awake and looking for the origins of smoke. He guided them to the affected cabin where smoke was coming out like the chimney of a Mandi Gobind Garh foundry. Few but persistent knocks at the door yielded no response as it was bolted.CSM Jasbir Singh a tough senior cadet then did a quick pull up holding the wire mesh that was called seventh heaven to have a peep inside. He was terrified seeing the study table burning and a cadet sprawled half on the bed with legs dangling down. All the banging brought me to life and I opened the bolt just before it gave way. The fire party rushed in and put off the fire in no time.

I had been preparing for the very first camp for NDA cadets aptly named camp Greenhorn in the evening when ‘Lights out’ was announced. A towel was carefully wrapped around the table lamp and I continued packing my kit ensuring nothing was left behind. Once done and kept on the table, I needed to stretch my back for a few moments. ‘Just a few moments’, I muttered to myself but the sleep deprived body was soon lost in deep dreamless slumber.
The towel got overheated and started burning spreading it to the dungarees, FSMO pack and other items. The flames were thankfully observed by the alert watchman down below.
After my honest confession, everyone went back to bed but I was left virtually penniless as far as my kit/dress items were concerned, only a few hours before departure for the camp. Salute the never say die spirit of a Rimcollian that I arranged every single piece required in those few hours while the world slept blissfully. The old idiom ‘Beg, Borrow or Steal’ actually works best when all of them are combined together making it ‘Beg, Borrow and Steal’.

By Satyesh Bhaduri


WHAT’S IN A NAME….

Being brought up in a joint Bengali family in a middle class neighbourhood… the biggest casualty I felt was your personality when you are called by many obnoxious nick names. These nicknames do not have any resemblance with the actuals but a sheer imagination and fancy of few family members based on initial appearances after birth. NERU( baldy) may be having the most dense mane ever seen.BOCHA( bluntmay have the sharpest nose..FELU( person who fails) may be the most sharpest boy in his class….GOBLU ( bloaty) may be the most thinnest in his pack or BHODA ( moron) may be the brightest in the group or HABLA.(idiot)..could be the smartest of his kind…such nicknames are galore in Bengali dictanory…KABLA( imbecile moron) is one of my friend who is street smart….and POCHA( Rotten) being the other who is always fresh at any time of day fully energetic ….it is never ending as we Bengalis specialises and take pride in giving such nick names. Just imagine one being called as HADUDA (dope)OR KABLADA OR (HOTKADA ( fatso) or POCHADA IN PUBLIC. I dread to even imagine.

It was no exception for me. I was told by my mother that I was born a very chubby boy( which Iam still after almost six decade).So carrying on the tradition my maternal grandmother gave my name as BHOMBU( which still my relatives from my maternal side calls me)…later it got distorted to BHOMBOL…GADADHAR…MOTKA …..BHIMSEN…GHATOTKACH and many such connected sadistic distorted names. As chubby persons are linked with consuming sumptuous food…so initially during my visit to my maternal place at Malda ( famous for mangoes/litchis and sweets) I never minded being addressed by my distorted nick names pronounced in funny colloquial way,as I was pampered with many delicacies during such interactions.

Not to be undone like MohunBagan…East Bengal rivalry, my paternal side started calling me TABLA..BHODKA…which later got modified to TUBLA…TUBLU……TUBLALTUBU.TUBE…TUBLAC and even TUBEWELL..periodOn my complaint to my mother she started calling me TUBA, which was generally accepted by most. I was happy that at least I got an uncommon nickname with an Anglecised overtures. Little did I realise that TUBA IN OXFORD DICTIONARY means “” A LARGE BRASS WIND INSTRUMENT OF BASS PITCH WITH THREE TO SIX VALVES AND A BROAD BELL TYPICALLY FACING UPWARDS. Suffice to say that this nick name of mine was also somewhat related with my chubby appearances.Ultimately I resigned to my fate and let the matter rest where it was ( similarity to Newton’s law of motion). So I adjusted to the situation being called as BHOMBU in my maternal side and TUBA by my paternal side with few calling me TUBLA.

My despondent state was bit uneasy for me. As in a big joint family everybody was busy without doing nothing…no body had time to take me out of mu dilemma and predicament . Offcourse I had my Dadu…an INA veteran and my friend …guide and philosopher. After listening to my anguish he just nodded his head and told me that A TRULY MEMORABLE NICK MAME MUST HAVE THREE ATTRIBUTES….FIRSTLY IT SHOULD BE ORIGINAL….SECONDLY IT SHOULD BE SYNONYMOUS WITH THE INDIVIDUAL TO THE POINT THAT THE NAME SHOULD BE ICONIC…LASTLY IT SHOULD REFLECT THE PERSONALITIES….STYLES AND ABILITIES OF THE INDIVIDUAL . He further said that both my nicknames BHOMBU AND TUBA are Original..He further said that as Iam well built..good in sports and a voracious eater and have deep sonorous voice… hence the nicknames are ICONIC and befitting my style…personality and abilities.Yes I was convinced and gladly started responding to my nicknames proudly without any hesitation or anguish.

My aunty was pursuing her MA in English with emphasis on Shakespearen stories and writings. So anytime we siblings used to create disturbance we were referred and addressed by the characters of Shakespeare novels.We were seven of us cousins and each specialised in their own brand of mischief…so anytime my sister used to behave haughty especially after her school results…she used to be referred as LADY MACBETH..the ambitious one.One of my cousin brother was very shrewd and intelligent. He was aware of his belongings and things and unlike others never used to share his belongings…so he was referred as SHYLOCK. One of our elder sister just in college had a crush on our neighbours son who was pursuing his engineering from Jadavpur( they are presently married)…so they were referred as Happy Romeo and Juliet..and lastly our neighbours son who was a suspicious boy ,always snooping on my class notes and homework..so he was named as OTHELLO as he had dark complexion also. For normal mortal like us we were called GADHA(donkey)….SUKOR(pig)…KHACCHAR( mule)…KUKUR(dog)…. GORU(cow) or RAMCHAGOL( Billy goat) and such other adjectives much to our annoyance. ..
Complaining to anybody was similiar to speaking in full throttle to a complete dead person. Again my succour and comfort used to be my Dadu who quoting Shakespeare again told me… WHATS IN A NAME…ROSES CALLED BY ANY NAME WILL SMELL AS SWEET AS EVER…so irrespective what anyone calls you …you would always be what you are. So amongst our siblings there used to be unwritten signal of disregard and disdain whenever anybody used to call us names

We Bengalis have also one more specific characteristics. Generally our Nickname do not have any bearing on our Good name. Unlike the nick name the Good name had a specific meaning. After lots of deliberation and debates and taking into consideration family traditions good name in consultation with Panditji is selected and given during NAMKARAN CEREMONY. Like the case in our family …our initial must start with S and ends with esh. Applicable only for boys which to my understanding was unfair. The tradition of name starting with S and finishing with esh I was told was in vogue for few generations…My grandfather was SAILESH…my father SAMARESH…my uncle SHYAMALESH …..me SATYESH..and my brothers SOUMYESH…SAURJYESH. …and our children SHIRSESH and cousins SHIKARESH AND SAMEERESH…it is a never ending. Iam afraid that perhaps I have to christen my grandson whenever he is born as SANDESH( delicacy Bengali sweet). On a serious note I was told that my name Satyesh means that I speak truth which to my understanding , I felt is a tall order.Anyways one cannot change one’s destiny hence the name stuck to me unlike my other friends having names as Shantanu..Anjan….Uday or Siddhartha. To be honest everybody was proud of me till class vi th as I had generally justified my good name.Mostly in any family gathering my Dadu and Thamma used to proclaim and advertise so in front of all.

However things took an ugly turn once I reached class 7th. As if I had developed wings. Being an Army Officer my father was posted to field area, so there was no fear in my mind and slowly I started treading the path of determination. I had started smoking…telling unnecessary lies and often stealing money from my uncle’s pocket or anytime I was told to go to the market.Those were the darkest days in my life but unlike having any repentance I started indulging deep and deep into my nefarious activities. Things went unnoticed for few months which made me more daring and complacent in not being detected. Needless to say my academic performance also took a nose dive and I just managed bare minimum marks to be promoted to class 8th.

There were three fairies/apostles in my life who had changed me..my Baromama( my eldest maternal uncle)..my private tutor and my mother. All three descended on my life and slowly painstakingly transformed me and brought me back to the path which I was expected to tread.I would narrate three incidents which I feel is relevant in context of this write up.

I was a good sportsman and during our time there used to be lot of six sided Rubber Ball football in every colony known as Paras in Bengal. I used to be hired to play for different team with an agreement of transport fare…one Mughlai Paratha…Fishfry….one Cigarette and bottle of Coca Cola. My booking used to be pretty heavy and sometimes cigarette was taken as advance for the booking. As it involved practically five days in a week in the evening…I had no other option than to weave different stories to my unsuspecting mother. As I was deteoriating in my studies a Private Tutor was hired to teach me in the evening after classes on returning home. Thus came Nirmal Babu in my life. He was a teacher in a Govt School and those days used to come to teach me availing public bus from quite far.Unfortunately he saw me playing in his Para competition. Worried that he would spill my beans I had started avoiding his tuition giving one flimsy reasons or other. But to my surprise of my feared apprehension ,he requested my mother to allow him to stay in our house on week days so that he can teach me for a longer duration without any apprehension of missing the last bus. Our house had many rooms and my mother gladly accepted his request much to my agony.He never bothered me with my commitment of playing games for different clubs but concentrated on me after dinner. Telling lies day after day to my mother and Dadu…I realised that slowly I was transforming into MITHESH( who speak lies) from my good name SATYESH.Slowly perhaps due to my gratitude towards Nirmal Babu for guarding my secret I started responding to his teachings. I even confided in him about my vices. I still recollect that magical words of his QUOTE “IF YOU TRANSLATE EVERY MISTAKE OF YOUR LIFE INTO A POSITIVE ONE YOU WILL NEVER BE A PRISIONER OF YOUR PAST BUT A DESIGNER OF YOUR FUTURE”..My first baby step from moving back to SATYESH FROM MITHESH. I did well in my class 8th and ensured I get Science Stream in class 9th with decent grade.

Second incident I recollect again in the same year. My uncle who used to be a big Contractor in his time used to come late and hang his trouser with wallet in his bedroom which I used to share with him. I used to steal money mostly 10 Rupees note twice a month . The money was enough to last me for a month spending on eatables and off course cigarettes. In one of those days when I wanted to take money I realised that he had a one Rupee note which was enough to meet my requirement. So without any hesitation and fear of being caught I stole. My uncle was not particular about the big notes but that day he wanted to give our servant one Rupees to buy jalebis. Low behold there was no one rupee note in his wallet which he was very sure he had. Automatically the suspicion was on me. He asked me decently but I was that time in prime of my role as MITHESH denied it vehemently. Anybody in his shoes would get angry and so was he. I was thrashed black and blue without any change in my stance. My mother was so shaken that she told everybody in the house not to believe me or trust me and call me MITHESH AND A CROOK. My isolation continued for a week as nobody spoke to me. Only solace was my Dadu who used to come to the confined small room in my terrace to comfort me. I did confide to him of my misdeed and on his suggestion I acknowledged my act in front of all. Everything was forgotten with friendly pulling of leg. It was a great setback for me for my trust to be shattered amongst my family members. My Baromama who was present during my confession took me aside and told me another golden word…Quote LIFE’S GREATEST SETBACKS ALWAYS REVEAL LIFE’S GREATEST BLESSINGS….
My second baby step of justifying my name SATYESH.

My third incident of my dark past I remember was a day I want to forget because the foolishness of my act still haunts me. Again during my dark days during one of the birthday celebration my grandmother told me to get a litre of cooking oil from our Grocer who knew us all very well for so many years. I was desperate for some money to buy cigarettes for me and my friend. So like a foolish imbecile I told the Grocer uncle to give me 950 ml of oil. The surprised shopkeeper obliged by giving me the balance fraction of money but made it a point to tell my youngest uncle about the incident. Incidentally me and my youngest uncle were not in good terms..in fact arch rivals. Although he is more than 12 years elder to me but due to his perpetual illness he had become suspicious..cranky and to be honest till date not to my liking.He came home shouting from the road that SATYESH BHADURI is a thief..liar and a disgrace to the family. Naturally after hearing the whole incident my mother was furious. The thrashing in the bathroom resulted in my black eyes and deadly head scar which required hospitalization. I remember my mother’s sobbing and her words BE A PERSON SO THAT YOU NEED NOT PROVE YOURSELF TO OTHERS…YOUR ATTITUDE TOWARDS FAILURE DETERMINES YOUR ALTITUDE AFTER FAILURE….I could not understand her words but all I could promise that I would not do anything which ever let her down….My third step of being back to original SATYESH.

Before I finish the write up I would fail if I do not mention one incident which happened in NDA. Generally the first termer is unofficially selected by sixth termer to write their Project Studies. I was also selected for my clear handwriting. My job used to be present in his cabin during lunch and dinner break and write his Project. The senior in question was a smoker and I knew his secret place of hiding his cigarettes which often used to tempt me to flick one. Somehow some invisible power restrained me from doing so. One night after dinner the Devil of Temptation took better of me and I did smuggle one cigarette for my late night consumption. Three to four days had passed in between and there was no reaction from the senior… in normal circumstances it would have made me comfortable…but it was not to be so. Every night when I used to go to sleep conscience used to prick me constantly..perhaps the fact of betraying my mother’s trust was playing in my mind. So on fourth day I bought a cigarette of same brand through my orderly Bhore and kept it back in his packet.Bit relieved with my action it was very short lived when I was summoned by the senior and asked directly about my action. With a straight face and not batting an eyelid I did confess..hoping for some severe punishment. I was surprised when he handed me back my cigarette telling me that he knew on the first day only the fact of the Missing Cigarette. I was spellbound.He told me golden words…Quote HARD TIMES ARE OFTEN BLESSINGS IN DISGUISE.LET GO AND LET LIFE STRENGTHEN YOU. NO MATTER HOW MUCH IT HURTS…HOLD YOUR HEAD AND KEEP GOING. TRUTH BE TOLD..SOMETIMESTHE HARDEST LESSONS TO LEARN ARE THE ONES YOUR SPIRIT NEEDS MOST. YOUR PAST WAS NEVER A MISTAKE IF YOU LEARNED FROM IT…SO TAKE ALL CRAZY EXPERIENCES AND LESSONS AND PLACE THEM IN BOX CALLED…THANK YOU””….He complimented for my honesty and said he waited for this moment as he had belief in his trust of TRUSTING ME….My last and final step on justifying my name SATYESH.



Now in the twilight of my life journey I can proudly say that inspite of various opportunities I stuck to my promise made to my mother of BEING A MAN MORE THAN I CANNOT BE..IF IAM LESS MY OWN NATURE WILL NOT FORGIVE ME….If I say that I never lied then I will be a liar but as far as I remember with all humility I can proudly say that IAM SATYESH..JUSTIFYING THE CHRISTENED NAME GIVEN…AND ON ALL HUMILITY SHALL TRY TO BE SO TILL MY JOURNEY TO VALHALLA.

So now in my hindsight I feel that there is something in Name…and your destiny pushes you to justify the same…So Mr Shakespeare I beg to differ your analogy of WHAT’S IN A NAME….😋🙄😋