Kahaani Desh Ki

Hai yeh ek kahani,

Ek naye daur ki,

Sudhar jaani chahiye zindagi,

Kursi par aane pe uski.

Soch hai yeh nai,

Ke badle apni duniya,

Hai sirf yeh icha,

Ki bhaga de voh kaala saaya.

Hai teen naam,

Uss kalpana ko rang dene,

Chun na hai unme se ek,

Apne desh ko aage le jaane.

Ek ko karni hai safaai,

Aur ek ko chahiye development,

Tisre ke piche hai RTI,

Aur women empowerment.

Shawl hai maathe pe baandha,

Aur peheni hai Gandhi topi,

Hai voh AAP ke liye khada,

Usne hai janta ki mushkil naapi.

 

Agla hai shehzaada,

Jaise bulate hai usse kayi log,

Baat voh sirf chaar karta hai par,

Youth icon kehlane ka chada hai usse rog.

Kehta hai bhai behen aur mitron,

Jab aata hai bolne voh,

Chai pilake baat karta hai sabse,

Uska naam hai alag, voh hai NaMo.

Yeh teen hai sabse upar,

Unke niche hai log anek,

Rape aur badle ki baat karte hai voh,

Nahi jodna unko desh, nahi karna usse ek.

Chunaav karna hai ab aapko,

It’s now only your decision,

Vote karna hai bass,

So do it with precision.

Yeh hai apne desh ki kahani,

Jo badlegi hamare kehne pe,

Lagake aao syahi apne haath par uss ek din kyunki,

Desh nahi badega aage ghar pe baithe rehne pe.

Kahaan Ho Tum?

Paas nahi hai hum,

Ho tum bahut door,

Saath dekhe the jo sapne,

Voh ho gaye sab choor.

Thi apni ek duniya,

Jisme the hum tum saath,

Nahi raha ab kuch aisa,

Aur hai bass andheri raat.

Ruka hun yahi,

Tere jaane ke savaal mein,

Doobta jaa raha hun,

Tere lautne ke khayal mein.

Tham gaya hai waqt jaise,

Aur nahi dhalti yeh shaam,

Teri yaadein hai sirf chaayi hui,

Aur nahi hota kuch kaam.

Dhunde yeh nazrein tujhe,

Chupi hai tu kahan,

Mann ka boj kam nahi hota,

Lagta hai sada rahunga yahan.

Voh pal kab ayenge vapas,

Sochke yeh mein ho jayu gumsum,

Prashn ek hi rehta hai,

Ke kahaan ho tum?

Some More Ingredients for Success

The polling for the elections has just begun, and just before that, we have witnessed some of the majestic antics going on in the nation. Around a year ago, I had done a post on The Ingredients of Success for Life. I have done some more posts on the elections which I hope made laugh your guts out.

So now, let’s know the Ingredients to Success for Winning Elections.

To get selected and then elected, you need to follow the advice from here. As the elections near, you need to advertise yourself in the national market so that people know more about you.

There are some very insane suggestions which are going to be laid down now, and you must not take them to heart.

Due to the strict rules of the Election Commission, you shall not be able to present the voters money to destroy their own future. To by pass this rule, you should start giving the people something they need daily, like tea or milk. This will keep them happy, and will make them understand how good you are.

You need to keep repeating words like RTI and women empowerment in all the speeches you make. This is sure to make people notice you even with all the chaos. You can also call your opponents in codenames so that it does not look like a direct insult. This keeps you safe from them.

The next point is a bit dangerous, but I guess you could use it well. This involves division.

Usage of the divide and rule policy is the next card you play. As you keep saying to the nation that you want unity between everyone in this nation, so that you can provide for everyone at the same time, have some of your senior party members make divisions alliances on the basis of religion. At this point, you shall need to make the opponent look like a criminal for the divided part of the nation.

Hire a newspaper to do a sting operation on an old event which took place and criticize the opposition. This will make you look like a life-saver and thus people will vote for you.

If you are late in putting up posters due to some reason, then stick them on the existing posters of your opponent by personally climbing up poles and in full wake of news cameras.

Delay your manifesto till the last moment and then as the voters line up to vote, display yourself and with loud cries of brothers and sisters, open your manifesto and distribute to the public. This will allow you to capture the news again.

Make some of the lower party workers make hate speeches on the opposition and then have them removed and condemned. This will make the people feel that you treat your opponent well, so you deserve to win.

You can copy your manifesto from your opponents and then you can change the color and design and paste it just like that.

All this is sure to make you win.

To end on a high, let’s all chant together what we are hearing on all social networking sites.

Mein likhunga sarcasm baar baar,

Abki baar Modi Sarkar.

Aaye toofan yaa chahe aandhi,

Next PM young Rahul Gandhi.

Garmi mein bhi peheno shawl,

Agla vijeta apna Kejriwal.

This post is written for Project 365’s open to all prompt.

A Journey of Growth

­It was 9.10. Time seemed to be passing…slowly. I could not control myself. I decided to go to the receptionist and ask her again about my meeting with the General. I was damn sure that this meeting had something to do with David.

“No Ma’am. Please have a seat. I surely will tell you when it is time for your appointment,” said the receptionist, in her sugary sweet voice; but I was sure she carried a 9 millimeter in her crocodile-skin purse and her voice was just a ploy to hide her real self. Thinking this, I returned to my seat on the sofa, positioned exactly opposite the receptionist’s desk, with butterflies doing barrel rolls in my stomach.

The clock chimed 9.30. The mahogany door swung open and the General rushed out to greet me. “Sorry to keep you waiting Ma’am; I am extremely sorry for this impromptu summons. Did Dorothy offer you coffee?”

“It’s no problem General. Can I know why I have been summoned here? Is it something to do with my David,” I asked.

Inviting me into his office, he said, “I am terribly grief-stricken to inform you that Major David Sanchez will not be returning home from this session at sea. There was an accident involving his aircraft and I am afraid he is no more.”

I just listened to him. The words kept repeating themselves in my mind again and again. I just sat and waited. Waited for David to step out from somewhere and say that everything was fine. But no one materialized. The General kept saying sorry and kept apologizing, but how could anyone understand what had just happened in my life…

On the way home, tears glittering in my eyes the whole way, I just thought of what and how I would tell the kids. George and Theresa, just five and seven. How would they grow up without their father, how would I manage the whole family? I just couldn’t take in the fact that life could be so cruel to anyone.

The kids took it quite well. They cried a little and helped me soak in the grief, but they were still a little too young to grasp the sorrow of losing their father. Maybe it was mother’s stories about life in heaven being better than on earth; maybe they had a feeling that their dad was safe. But I just wasn’t sure of what had happened.

For the next few months, life crept on and on. I wandered from shop-to-shop, hotel-to-hotel, and household-to-household looking for an odd job. It was a Thursday in March when I entered the Café Boulevard. A small homely place in the middle of town, this enterprise was run by a woman, widowed at the ripe age of 30, and in the same way as me. I sensed that she would be someone to get me what I wanted.

Entering the kitchen the next morning, I took in the scenery. The single table in the center, cluttered with vegetables of all types; the plates and cutlery laying orderly in the corner of the room; and the lone figure in white, knife in hand, eyeing me and enjoying a quiet smile.

I was pretty good at cooking savories, and when it came to earning through it, I pushed hard for my best effort. My salary kept rising, but so did my children’s needs. It was in June, more than two years after me joining the café that Madame Child disclosed her future plans, and hearing them, my legs went numb and my eyes grew wet.

It was catastrophe. What would I do? How would I manage the expenses from my David’s meager pension? I could not think of anything. Nothing seemed to make sense. It was at that time that the man entered the Café.

Dressed in his daily costume of a white shirt and black Armani suit, accompanied with tortoise-shell glasses made the image of a hotshot lawyer clear straight from his entrance. I rushed to him to take his daily order, which never changed: bacon with eggs, and coffee, black with two spoons of sugar.

As I bestowed him with his meal, he asked me like a ghost,” What’s the problem Ma’am?” I guess my eyes told him everything because he didn’t utter a word and focused his mind on the feast in front of him. I returned to my daily chores and the day’s new thoughts, oblivious to the pair of eyes following me around.

It was 2 weeks before he made his offer. He offered to purchase the café for my benefit and allow me to run it, in my way. I could not say a word. I just kept quiet and stood there, still as a shadow. I knew I would make it work, but why would someone trust me. Trust me with so much of their money.

I accepted 2 days after his proposal, and from there began our friendship, and the journey to my growth.