A Gunshot for survival

The most powerful feeling that I have ever experienced is while holding a gun. Indeed even more, when someone stands on the other end. It is an indescribable feeling filled with authority, superiority and mercifulness (entirely on your terms).

The cold feel of curling your lips around the muzzle and rolling the chamber with your fingertips, that's no less than heaven on earth.
The sound that generates when the parts cling together, that's music to ears. Sitting relaxed back on a couch and gripping the gun firmly with two hands, when you pull up to aim, you can almost hear your heartbeat and feel your pulse. In that little minute, from aiming to pulling the trigger your hand almost sticks to your chin, the left eye refuses to open back, the forehead fills with sweat and the mind suddenly recalls the importance of breathing again for survival.

Thereafter, it's that BANG that matters, the echo that batters in the room and is distinctly heard until it completely fades off after creating a thousand ripples in plain air. The little smoke that exits out of the barrel from both ends, and the stench of gunpowder that lingers back in the air is more captivating and magnetic than any other odour or temptation.

The little vibrations that are left oscillating from the wrist to the elbow and back to the wrist along with the imprints of the butt left on the insides of the hand and the redness marked with the trigger on the index finger is what you never desire to lose. The puff of breath that is exhaled marks the completion of the task and explains the fact that a life taken is another life saved. Even as the target falls down there is so much to gain with one single shot, with one single pull or in one small tick.

What follows after 30 seconds is complete silence, a silence that has the potential to directly pierce through you and enter your veins and change your state of mind. Sometimes fear creeps in and sometimes pride. Where a sense of pride would make the shot even worthwhile, fear on the other hand would ruin all the feelings that one had just felt and lived.

Even before the happening happens there are elements that pull one back, thus there should be a driving force pushing you towards glory from the back of the mind and a pull from the heart should grip all muscles together while the fingertip kisses the trigger and pulls it back, a sense of doing should persist in the calm mind as the aim stands opposite the muzzle. Mercy, fear and pity should be locked off while determination, existence and adventure should hold the reins.

It is true that existence is yet another word for survival, and survival means elimination. Sometimes it is for good, and sometimes for a desire to be good, but never for bad. The moment you consider it mean and deceitful you lose. Thus feeling is so harmful that it won't let you last even a moment more on the battlefield. The mere thought makes one weak and allows the rival to take his shot. Thus, humanity should be turned off and only the motive should linger in the mind. The shot that can give you life can take it away too, just in a blink of a second. Do or die is the theme of the battlefield, no matter where it is, inside a close room or on a busy street. Pull the trigger and live your life, think a moment more and soon you'll be on the ground.

"Kill him! NOW!"

My brother shouted from the window. His words reverberated in the room. The dacoit stood tall before my eyes, loading a yellow metallic bullet in his rifle. Death was just seconds away, in the form of a seven feet black dressed and turbaned villain. I had to reach a decision, time trailed. I had to choose between death and survival.

I closed my eyes for a brief second. And made my choice.

BANG!

It echoed and smoked and stenched just like baba had taught me. There was silence all around and it entered me piercing through open skin. The man dropped. I lived.

Things that happen only in India

India, a land of multiple languages and rituals, a home to numerous religions and festivals is where one in true means find unity in diversity; the same for which the nation is also better known as.

However there are innumerable things that one can perhaps only spot in India. The seventh largest nation homes 1.2 billion people and stands tall as the largest democracy on planet earth; which lately is better known for its now ruling Prime Minister- NaMo, a tea-stall vendor of the 80s.

Two things that have gained immense popularity worldwide since our new government are the Prime Minister and the Nation itself. Things, issues and old trends are on a roll towards change, as the new PM focusses on a developed and skilled India in the coming days.

Though in a nation like India, the old saying- "No change is permanent" stands true and has been proved multiple times in history. A lot of good things and approaches ceased to happen with the blink of an eye, however this time the nation doesn't seem to believe that any of these rooting changes will ever stop. Good for the doer then and good for the receiver!

But to whitewash the old stains and the black spots that our nation bears of the past, definitely we have to get down on our knees and wipe the floor clean ourselves. Not only this would serve the cause, we would in turn also have to change our habits and brush up our social etiquette chapter once again, loud and clear.

Coming to the point about things that can only be spotted in India, I would like to begin with a little observance on change. Change is a very interesting element, just like a bucket of paint- ready to cover the stains and old spots, but a little mishandling can again bring in all the spots those were wiped clean.

India, is more of a journey than a country where you see different shades of lifestyle and trends as you move from one end to another. But, there are a few common things that you can spot no matter where you are in the nation.

Love is the most widespread epidemic in the nation, whether you roam around in the temples observing the walls or you commute by a train or bus, you can always see names circled in hearts with an arrow pierced through. Sometimes, there is a message, like, "I love you Sheela," with love spelt as 'lobe' or 'luv'. Uncountable seats are scratched mercilessly, across the year and the back panel of seats acquire new names, phone numbers and love messages every minute, surpassing
the old ones. I often wonder, if the writer's dedicated lover ever gets to read these messages that their lover wrote scratching and breaking their fingernails. Some wise people bring along a permanent marker for the mission.

As you get down from the bus and turn along the lane, you can spot a faded message on the wall in Hindi saying- "Do not spit here." And the message itself fades with tens and tens of pan-stains jetted with a precise aim on the Hindi letters. As you'll pass by, someone will again use the wall to empty his buccal cavity.

Then as you'll pass by a thin lane, probably a gully- beware to cover your nose when you walk by an empty plot between two houses, coz that's a community dustbin. Don't be surprised to see men urinating on the walls adjacent to this plot.

Urination brings us to our next topic- public toilets. Enter a public toilet, whether in a railway station or a bus station. As you slam the door close and sit down you see a list of contact numbers scratched on the door with ugly and pathetic descriptions such as 'whore,' 'jugaad,' and things similar.

Talking about a journey by train, as it halts between stations people rush in and rush out in a haste. Everyone is in a haste to acquire the empty berths and are later seen negotiating amongst other co-travellers to sit in their seat. The person who sacrifices his seat in the first place is seen battering from seat to seat until his journey ends.

To the list there are numerous other things and acts, but however there is one indispensable thing. When we compare sleeper coaches with AC coaches, we find no haste. People come in a steady gait and take the seat that's allotted to them. There is no negotiation and no inconvenience to the other person. Similarly, enter a toilet in a mall or a PVR and you won't find inscriptions and lurking comments. Travel by metro and there are no love hearts with names and arrows. Also, there are no pan stains in the compound.

So what brings in all the difference? How does a nation with the same people travelling in these two different places act differently? The answer to the problem is literacy and infrastructure development. The sooner it will spike up, such acts will fall down.

With the advent of PM NaMo's government, the entire nation is optimistic about a radical change in the coming years. The sound of an approaching hurricane can be heard clearly, that is on its way to carry away the ills from our community. Sooner or later, in these five years, the entire nation believes that a roadmap to development and change will be laid out. It is thereafter our responsibility to step on it and walk the way through. No matter how good or bad the government is, at the end it is us who matter. A better India is our responsibility and our birth right.
To end with a poetic line, it is wise to say-
"Jhadoo bhi chalega aur rupya bhi uthega, Aao milke sath bade, akela Modi kya kya karega!"
Jai hind!

**This article was picked by TOI, read here:
http://m.timesofindia.com/nri/contributors/contributions/udai-narayan-singh-bisht/Things-that-happen-only-in-India/articleshow/45023058.cms

A political love story

Finally, on a relaxed Sunday when usually everyone wakes up late and schedule movies and lunch programs with friends and relatives, today however must have been a different one. With the Maharashtra-Haryana state election results being declared since morning, the common man must have been glued in front of their led-screens, counting each seat, as their favourite party lifted up inch by inch.

Many channels began with their exit poll predictions since dawn, with predictions of Modi-led-Lotus to lead the day. And minute by minute, it happened as it was predicted, the dream of our PM began manifesting with the first rays of the sun. In the allotted time frame for campaigning, Prime Minister NaMo gave 38 rallies altogether in Maharashtra and Haryana. Having faced, a break up over seat sharing with their more than two decade old ally Shiv Sena in the Maha-city and Congress's history of never losing in Haryana, the victory seemed tougher. No matter what the circumstances were, NaMo's determination of serving people and a Congress-free Nation was immensely repeated and emphasized, until it turned into reality. With a win in 47 seats out of 90 in Haryana, NaMo led BJP into a majority thrusting the oldest political party Congress into a setback with 22 seats, impotent to even sit in the opposition. Similarly, in Maharashtra BJP lead with +122 seats out of 288, falling short of 23 seats to form a government. The biggest turn came in with Congess's ally NCP ditching its former mate and offering to give an outside support to BJP, if it desires to form a government with them. However BJP's old partner Shiv Sena, remarked that it awaits BJP's proposal for a collation.

A conflict of ethics turn up as people around the country await for BJP to pick up a side. Siding with NCP, a former side mate of INC, BJP might lead into some of the biggest post-election controversies, as NCP has been a part of the party that Modi has lead his reform of eradication against.

Considering SS, BJP seems lesser worried about proposing it as the pre-election arrogant and firm Uddhav Thakare has turned soft and inviting. It can be another way of BJP retaliating in a silent manner, proving their caliber of gaining the remaining 23 seats without SS's support. However, NCP's sudden influence, of coming into party again, though with a collation seems like a budding political love story.

Politics, with all these moves yet again proves its unreliability on either side. And amidst the hustle-bustle of results the Indian Hockey team's confiscation of Sultan Johar Cup by their 2-1 victory over Great Britain, and FC-Northeast Vs Goa-FC Indian Super League 1-1 draw remained a hidden topic.

Finally, now the nation looks ahead to Mr. Modi for his promises and development schemes. The 65% below 25 youth looks for employment schemes, farmers hope for a better price to their crops, oldies look for a worry-free pension directly hopping into their bank accounts without dragging their heels in government offices from desk to desk and the common man still looks for a further depreciation in fuel prices. Good for all including him, if NaMo materialises his dream in the dedicated time frame; however, our nation's present situation goes handy with the Hindi phrase- "Ek anaar, 100 bimaar."

A political love story

Finally, on a relaxed Sunday when usually everyone wakes up late and schedule movies and lunch programs with friends ad relatives, today however must have been a different one. With the Maharashtra-Haryana state election results being declared since morning, the common man must have been glued in front of their led-screens, counting each seat, as their favourite party lifted up inch by inch.

Many channels began with their exit poll predictions since dawn, with predictions of Modi-led-Lotus to lead the day. And minute by minute, it happened as it was predicted, the dream of our PM began manifesting with the first rays of the sun. In the allotted time frame for campaigning, Prime Minister NaMo gave 38 rallies altogether in Maharashtra and Haryana. Having faced, a break up over seat sharing with their more than two decade old ally Shiv Sena in the Maha-city and Congress's history of never losing in Haryana, the victory seemed tougher. No matter what the circumstances were, NaMo's determination of serving people and a Congress-free Nation was immensely repeated and emphasized, until it turned into reality. With a win in 47 seats out of 90 in Haryana, Namo led BJP into a majority thrusting the oldest political party Congress into a setback with 22 seats, impotent to even sit in the opposition. Similarly, in Maharashtra BJP lead with +122 seats out of 288, falling short of 23 seats to form a government. The biggest turn came in with Congess's ally NCP ditching its former mate and offering to give an outside support to BJP, if it desires to form a government with them. However BJP's old partner Shiv Sena, remarked that it awaits BJP's proposal for a collation.

A conflict of ethics turn up as people around the country await for BJP to pick up a side. Siding with NCP, a former side mate of INC, BJP might lead into some of the biggest post-election controversies, as NCP has been a part of the party that Modi has lead his reform of eradication against.

Considering SS, BJP seems lesser worried about proposing it as the pre-election arrogant and firm Uddhav Thakare has turned soft and inviting. It can be another way of BJP retaliating in a silent manner, proving their caliber of gaining the remaining 23 seats without SS's support. However, NCP's sudden influence, of coming into party again, though with a collation seems like a budding political love story.

Politics, with all these moves yet again proves its unreliability on either side. And amidst the hustle-bustle of results the Indian Hockey team's confiscation of Johar Cup by their 2-1 victory over Great Britain remained a hidden topic.

Finally, now the nation looks ahead to Mr. Modi for his promises and development schemes. The 65% below 25 youth looks for employment schemes, farmers hope for a better price to their crops, oldies look for a hassel-free pension directly into their bank accounts without dragging their heels in government offices from desk to desk and the common still looks for a further depreciation in fuel prices. Good for all including him, if NaMo materialises his dream in the dedicated time frame; however, our nation's present situation goes handy with the Hindi phrase- "Ek anaar, 100 bimaar."

A post-surgery introspection

Sometimes I like the feel of spitting blood. Other than being saline it is the sacred feeling to see it live, once in so many years, or perhaps only a few times in a lifespan. These days I am living my best- tasting, circulating it in my buccal cavity and eventually spitting it out. Uggh! Ugly, isn't it?

My surgery has left me with nothing else to do but rest. Lying with a straight spine, I spend my day with my over stuffed nose dug in my droid, and breathing from my mouth. Today is the fourth day and I spend sunrise to sunset sipping juice and eating bread and porridge, and not to forget a handful of tablets twice a day- just in hopes of getting better. Sometimes blood mixed with saliva or mucus brings in a different taste. On a normal day it might taste bad, but on bed rest it tastes quite unique and sacred.

There are things that I fear now, things that are more fearful than that surgery. The list of feared things is topped with sneezing and coughing. Sneeze can severely harm by corroding the inner sides of the operated nasal cavity. So I give my best to stop any possible sneeze or coughing. Last when I got instincts of a coming sneeze, fear started creeping in about the immediate aftereffects. Knowing that it had to be stopped at any cos I started rubbing my throat and nose in a repeatedly hasty manner, until it finally got postponed. God knows what cancelled it, perhaps the rubbing or who knows if the sneeze itself felt pity over my state.

There are a list of activities that can not be performed as smoothly as on a usual course, to quote a few- brushing, chewing, walking, bathing, etc. But anyhow you've always got people to take care of you. Thanks to the wonderful lady called 'mother' who never tires out of serving and the little companion called 'sister', who leaves all the good stuff for her brother, taking pains to serve and wipe him repeatedly. And then there's a 'father', who might not cook and serve but he never forgets to abide by the social and financial responsibilities in his court. From serving the pills every morning and noon to arranging a taxi for check-ups, and he offers his shoulder to rest upon when he seas a limp in my gait.

In these four days I've experiment a lot of things. No doubt some of my biggest learnings that I've made (now) have come to me amidst my struggle for breathing. These past four days of demanded care from my near ones, made me realise the real value and selfless love of a family.

From tying a cloth around my neck before a meal to wiping the chin after every serving, I have been served like a kid in the past 96 hours. No matter what you ask for, and irrespective of the fact how many times you demand it, no one tires out of fulfilling the demand. Something makes me feel, a mother is a real form of god, with qualities that no one else can ever possess. Coz it isn't just the qualities but also the purity of heart that matters. As small insignificant tear drops roll down from the corner of my eyes, my mother never fails to notice them. She comes and sits beside me, rubbing my head she asks me, if it is paining? I nod in a no, but she still persists upon her doubt. And in the course another drop rolls down. Her face frowns and she consoles me saying, just a day more and day after they'll remove the gauges. To strengthen her I smile at her, the smile stretches my nose and I feel a brief pain, but this pain is enjoyable as it is capable of absorbing her pain. Every night she covers me in a blanket and every time during the night her eyes open, she first looks at me and then at the clock.

Yesterday she asked me if I would like to have some tea, I agreed for her satisfaction and I saw her pouring tea into my coffee mug and going through a detailed process of cooling it. In the course of serving me less hot tea, her tea too got cooled eventually, but her satisfaction of serving me was way higher than her care for the taste of her own tea.

On my first day of rest, I had problems sitting up so I spent most of my time lying down and watching movies. In between my father would come to me and check my status, sometimes he brought the newspaper and read the top headlines sitting beside me. Had I asked him something in detail, he would have read me the whole article too, but I didn't intend to bother him.

When I recall the last time, when my parents used to treat me in this manner, my memory dates back to almost two decades. The last time, my mother wiped my chin after food was when I was a toddler, the last time she gave me a bath was when I was probably three or four. The last time she wiped my tears was when I had fallen off my bicycle in my childhood. And probably that too was the time when my father would have read me headlines and storybooks. Things haven't changed for them even in two decades as I've grown up from one and a half feet to five and a half. As those infancy milk teeth have shed off and cheeks have filled in with thick beard, nothing on the contrary has changed for parents. Their child is the same little boy who has 'just' grown up under their eyes, whose every problem's solution is his mother's lap.

So blessed is our fortune that we have so caring parents who keep us safe from all problems and pains. For them we are the same little child (with a weak immune and fragile strength)... But ironically we've grown up!

Goodbye Sinus

Day 01: Oct 9th, 2014

As I write this a hundred thoughts are running in my skull, ranging from what does an operation feel like to will it trouble me? The attendant has already stuffed my nostrils with local anesthesia gauges and parts of me have already started feeling numb. I am lying on my side, writing what I feel as the pre-effects of my nasal surgery.

I am down half a liter glucose through my left arm and the needle still sticks there with the adhesive tape, giving me jerks of pain as I try to put my hand into some activity. A patient rolls out of the operation theater on a stretcher, his skull wrapped in white. He is operated for his right ear two positions prior to me. I tried asking him how he felt, but perhaps he didn't hear or was uncomfortable in responding back.

I wonder what will it be all like? Based on a brief Google research, I sketched the procedure of my surgery, that makes me feel excited about the coming things. I am almost half an hour away from entering the O.T, and I am wondering why is it called a 'theatre'?

Perhaps it will be fun, or else It'll be just a step towards relief. In these last minutes, before I am separated from my 24 year old ally 'Sinus', I thank you for all these mucus filled years. These thunderstorm experiences that I've had within me and those innumerable free balloons that I grew up inflating from my nose. I thank you for your never departing companionship that made me unique amongst my family, cousins and friends. I thank you for those restlessness moments that you gave me, those moments of lazy ness and ugliness.

It's time now to depart. Goodbye Sinus!

-----------x-----------x------------

Day 02: Oct 10th, 2014

It's been almost 24 hours, my nostrils are stuffed with as much gauges as can be stuffed in. It is a state of immense discomfort, I am breathing through my mouth with hopes that soon I'll be relieved.

Last night, when I entered the operation theatre, the attendant instructed me to lie down on the operation desk. I did as told with a feeling of fear mixed with curiosity. In my initial moments I was relaxed and unworried, knowing that it wouldn't pain and the doctors would take all measures to keep the surgery painless. But the aura inside the O.T started creeping doubts and fears into me. There were four doctors discussing someone's failed operation. To my understanding, fortunately it was all about a fifth doctor (who wasn't present inside the room), but unfortunately it was a failed operation. My thoughts of before entering the O.T started changing shape and big hallucinating fears started creeping in.

I looked around at the doctors, a thin man seated beside me was the most loud man. Another bald fellow sitting directly opposite my legs nodded and agreed to whatever the first guy said. The third one was seated further left of the thin one, busy in his own cup of tea and talking occasionally. However the fourth, the one who was treating me was busy preparing for the surgery, explaining others about my 'case' (as they referred to it). They were all relaxed and happy, talking loudly and sipping tea after every two statements. They even seemed ready to work upon me.

After ten minutes the thin doctor suggested my doctor to begin the surgery. They mutually agreed and covered me under a green cloth, covering my eyes and only leaving the nose exposed. Vibes of what-will-happen-now started flowing through my veins and I lay there worried and scared as a few blades and scissors clashed near my ear.

They began with an injection, indeed two injections- both of them simultaneously from either sides inside the nostrils. Within minutes the tissues went numb and they began their discourse of how-to-proceed and long steel things started creeping in and out of my nose. Sometimes there was a scratch, sometimes a stroke, sometimes a few repeated strokes and sometimes harsh scratching. Seldom I could hear the breaking noise of bone pieces and then those being placed out on a tray.

It took them some fifteen minutes before they finally unwrapped me from the green cloth and I was taken back to the ward on a stretcher. It was a contrary moment to that when I had gone inside. Earlier when I had entered the OT, I was whole, energised and vigorous, now I felt incomplete and stuffed excessively with gauges and deprived of my strength.

I lay in the ward listening to my relatives, their interpretation of what might have happened inside. Finally the doctor came out and showed the bone pieces that he had extracted out of my nose. There were 5-6 pieces in a steel tray (the one that is usually seen in movies when Amitabh or Summy Deol is cured off a bullet) ranging from a minimum of 1 cm to almost a maximum of 3-4 cms.

Finally after two hours of rest, I was discharged last night (same time) and since then I am on my bed, fidgeting and breathing through my mouth, with just hopes that day after tomorrow these gauges will be removed and I'll inhale..... Just like YOU do!