Open University, Correspondence Course & Gold Medal

At Convocation ceremony, BRAOU Campus


In 2011, I was recuperating from my knee injury. During that time, I was on medical break from my professional life. To utilize time, I was contemplating to take admission in any meaningful, functional –importance course through correspondence / Open University. During that time, one day, I alighted upon an article related to ‘Public Relations’. The article was emphasizing the importance of public relations in day-to-day life of Individual to Institutions, Commercial entities to public figures, political parties to governments etc. The article was all about aim and scope of the subject ‘Public Relations’.

That night, I searched on internet about this subject / course and found out Dr. B.R. Ambedkar Open University (BRAOU) Hyderabad, offers a course ‘Bachelor of Public Relations’ (BPR). This was one-year postgraduate professional course. I went through the syllabus, fee and admission process for the course on university website. I found, BPR syllabus was covering almost all the aspects of public relations, fee was nominal and admission process was simple. The beauty of Open University is, here, from prisoner to professor, anyone can become the student and avail the learning opportunities offered by the university.

As per prospectus, I followed the guidelines and took admission in BPR. Within a month, I received the course material. Course material was consists of a set of ten books. I perused all the books and tried to read all the reference books suggested in the course material. I extensively used the library of National Institute of Rural Development & Panchayti Raj (NIRDPR). [NIRDPR is my alma mater. I have studied Post Graduate Rural Development management, full time residential management course Batch – 2009-2010 from NIRDPR]. I  had gone through around thirty five to forty books on communication, advertisement, Development & rural communication, Project related books, research guidelines etc. In second half of 2012, for brief period, I was associated with MYRADA, as a consultant. That work experience I utilized in my project report.

I felt deep satisfaction, when result of BPR was out. I passed the course with distinction and secured highest aggregate marks in the examination. Few days ago, I received a letter from university informing about convocation and award of Gold Medal. As per schedule, on 1ST May 2017 evening, I attened the convocation ceremony and received the Gold Medal and certificates from VC Shri Seetharama Rao, and Academician & legal expert, Prof Shri N.R. Madhav Menon.


Ramanuj Dubey receiving Gold Medal and certificates from VC Shri Seetharama Rao & Prof. Shri N.R. Madhav Menon

I take this opportunity to thank chancellor of the university -Governor, Hon. E.S.L. Narasimhan, Vice- chancellor - Shri Seetharama Rao, chief guest of the convocation -Prof. Shri N. R. Madhav Menon .

I am thankful to Course Director, BPR - Shri Dr. C.V.Narasimha Reddy, senior academic counselor – Shri Y. Babji, BRAOU PRO- Shri Dr. Venugopal Reddy, BPR study material team, all PR Academicians & professionals who are associated with this course.

I am thankful to NIRDPR, NIRDPR-PGDRDM faculties & NIRDPR library. I am thankful to all my teachers for guiding me in my all professional and academic endeavor. I thank organization MYRADA for help and cooperation during BPR examination and project work.

I thank my family, friends and all my well-wishers.










I dedicate this medal to my mother.

~~~ Ramanuj Dubey

Thirty Days, Thirty Memories - The End of Blogging Game

Today is the last day of the blogging game that was started last month on 31^st July. The game started with the request of my friend to write real experience / memories of life for thirty days. The discussion started with lighter vein ended with condition where I found myself in‘No lose situation’. I had to write thirty blogs from real life experience and I would get books worth of three thousand rupees. It was indeed a nice condition where a friend paying you writing a blog on your blog page. I thank my friend for initiating such move that made me to write blog continuously for thirty-one days.

When I was writing, I decided not to write about my theatre journey/ experience so far, experience as a radio drama artist, some failed/ small-scaled entrepreneurship venture, my last alma mater and last five-year job experience / and freelancing experience. Expect one or two time, above-mentioned period did not feature in my blog. In future, I want to write elaborately about above-mentioned experience, in my autobiography or autobiography based fiction. It all depends upon how my life shapes up in coming one and half decade.

During last thirty days, I revisited my childhood, schools, colleges, village, hospital, Airfoce station and felt like reliving that life. I observed I forgot the names of many people with whom I had interacted / used to interact but their face, voice, gesture and posture still intact in my mind. When I started recounting, I felt their visuals are as fresh in my mind as today’s Morning.

My friend suggested me to publish these memories in eBook form under title ‘Thirty days, thirty memories’. This suggestion deserves worth attention, but I do not know whether my memories can be an interesting read or it has any literary value. After publishing the blog, I used to get around twenty-five clicks on my blog page immediately. I thank those people who visited my blog and read it. I feel a strange kind of happiness to see the title of the blog of last thirty days. The titles, I am sharing below-

                    I.            Blogging Game

                 II.            ICU and The Old Man

               III.            The Beggar Girl

              IV.            Right Help to a Wrong Person

                 V.            Hoax SMS, Call & Parable

              VI.            SSQ, Shenaz and My Love

            VII.            Scooter, Horse and Our Teacher

         VIII.            Adult Film in Cinema Hall

              IX.            My Tryst with Weapon and Range Firing

                 X.            My First Earning

              XI.            Pond, Ghost and I

            XII.            Ek Chhoti si Village Love Story

         XIII.            Didi, Books and I

         XIV.            My Friend and His Love Interest

           XV.            The Announcer

         XVI.            My Grandfather and His Memories of Independence Period

      XVII.            The Poet in Our School

    XVIII.            The Examination and the Communication Gap

         XIX.            The Political Activist

           XX.            Snakes, Nagpanchami & Blessings

         XXI.            The Love Letter in English

      XXII.            The Kidnapping

    XXIII.            My Friend and the Left Hand Writing

   XXIV.            The Summer Holidays

      XXV.            The Holidays in Savan Month

   XXVI.            Chicken Pox and The Sitla Maa

 XXVII.            The Social Worker

XXVIII.            Delhi and The Russian Girl

   XXIX.            The Old Farmer and The Rakas

      XXX.            Rakshabandhan and Sisters

~~~ Ramanuj Dubey 

Rakshabandhan and sisters ...

This is the story of more than decade back. I was in defense (Indian Air Force) then. It was occasion of Raksha bandhan and we were celebrating the festival in the billet. My sister had sent me the rakhi well in advance and in letter, she had mentioned auspicious timing for tying it on the wrist.  I was trying to tie the rakhi on the wrist by myself but I was struggling with it. One of my colleagues saw it and came to me. “Do not tie the rakhi until I come”- he commanded. He came after half an hour. He brought one big decorated thali in his hand and the thali had an earthen lamp, curd smeared with vermilion, sweets, fruits and few rakhi. He took my rakhi and put it in the thali.  After that, he put the curd smeared vermilion on my forehead, tied the rakhi and fed the rosgoola in my mouth. When tying ritual was over, he demanded gift. “Where is my gift? I completed the work of didi, I also deserve gift”- he reasoned.  His demand made me laugh and what so ever money I had in my pocket I put it on the thali. He rejoiced to see my leniency. There were many friends, whose rakhi could come on time and they were a bit low and disappointed that day. He tied the rakhi to other friends too and he made them happy. In evening, we celebrated party with the collected money.
That was indeed memorable raksha bandhan festival and my friend’s innovative effort brought smile on many faces that day.

My elder sister has unique way to celebrate this festival. She ties rakhi to me whenever I meet her and prays for my safety and well-being. On Rakshabandhan day, generally she would call and bless me. I have many cousin sisters, they used to tie me rakhi when I was in Bihar. Interestingly, at present I am not in communication with any one of them. Even though I am not in touch with them from long, I remember them on this occasion and  wish all happiness to them.

Besides my sibling and my cousin sisters, I have few sisters who are not my blood relative but they are as dear to me as my own sister is. They all came in my life during my distress period, helped me and gave me mental and emotional support. When I look back, I feel, they were and have been extremely good to me and I have not done anything even to acknowledge their goodness. I thank god to bring such nice souls in my life and pray for their well being and happiness.

Without fail, I have been receiving rakhi from one of my sisters from more than last ten years. She is my friend’s sister and I met with her when I was admitted in Air force command hospital Bangalore. My friend’s family (his parents and siblings) used to visit me regularly there. During my hospitalization period, they acted as my local guardian. Two days before, I received her letter and rakhi. The letter was in calligraphy and I remembered she had taught me calligraphy. I became quite emotional. This is the only rakhi that I have received this year. I thank her from the bottom end of my heart for sending the rakhi and remembering me.

~~~ Ramanuj Dubey

The Old Farmer and The Rakas

It was winter evening and I was coming from the field. There were paddy crops in the field and it was ready for cutting. Generally, I was not very much interested in agricultural activities but I liked to visit the field during harvest time. The ripe standing crops everywhere in field used to give a different kind of happiness to me. In evening, I would stand in the middle of the field and spend long time there, feel scent of the paddy and enjoy the winter breeze.

I was walking on the narrow lane of field to return home, I heard somebody called out my name. When I turned back, I saw the old man, a fellow villager whose agriculture land was adjacent to our land. When he came near to me, I greeted him and he blessed me profusely for my polite behavior. He was happy as I obeyed him, hearing his voice I stopped and then greeted him. We almost walked half kilometer in the field and then we reached to main road. After reaching main road, I saw him panting. He looked exhausted.

“We should rest for few minutes and start”- I said to him and he agreed. We sat on the ground. He explained that he overworked that day, so he was tired. Suddenly he asked – “I see you visit field regularly, that also in late evening, sometimes night, have you seen any ghost in the field?”
I answered him in negative. I saw he looked pleased as he was expecting this answer.
“How will you see the ghosts? All notorious and infamous ghosts of the village have taken birth in my tola (colony). They all have become alive.”- He told.
I laughed listening to his logic. He protested – “do not laugh. You are not familiar with them, so you are laughing. If you will see their deeds, then you will believe me”. He narrated the story how one lad of his colony had been continuously harassing and troubling him. In the end he concluded – “There was an infamous ghost in our time; he used to disturb everybody who would go to field in night. Last time we heard his distressing deeds before the birth of the lad. I suspect the lad is the ghost who has taken birth as human.”

“Baba, have you seen any ghost?”- I tried to change the subject. “No, but I have experienced many time. Have you seen wind, no, but you experience it. Aren’t you? Like the same” then he added- “there was a jinn in east side of the field. Hindu dead whose soul do not rest in peace or take rebirth become ghost like the same Muslim dead become jinn. He was Muslim, people say he was killed by his enemy and buried in the field. He was a Shayar and Kawwal (Poet & Singer) and he would catch people who would cross the field and make them listen to his shayri and Kawwalli for hours. People would get senseless for hours after listening him. When his troubles became very often, then one local maulvi was consulted and he did appropriate rituals. After that we have not heard about him.”

“But Baba, So far you have not seen any ghost.”-  I spoke in teasingly tone. 

He admitted – “true, I have not seen any ghost but once I met a Rakas.”
“Rakas”?  I have heard about rakshas (demons) but never heard about ‘Rakas’.
He explained – “when a Brahmin dies and due to sin or unfulfilled wish if he does not get rebirth or salvation then he becomes Rakas. Rakas do not kill people but trouble a lot. Unlike ghost, Rakas cannot be dispelled by chanting religious scriptures. If a person manages to cut the lock of hair and preserve it, then the person can get the every work done from him, but it is not easy to reach up to a rakas’s hair.”
I was amused to know the hierarchy among the ghosts. His story was getting interesting. I asked – “tell me how you met with the Rakas?”
He narrated – “I was in mid twenty at that time. Fearless and adventurous. That was winter and paddy crop was ripe in the field. I woke up, saw moon and felt it was about to morning. I took sickle and went to field. When I was cutting the crops, suddenly I saw a big shadow. When I lifted my head, I saw a big fat man around twenty feet tall standing before me. I started chanting hanuman chalisa, but that chanting had no affect on him. Then I realized he was not a ghost but a rakas. He demanded water from me but I was freezed to see him. He snatched the sickle from my hand and threw in other field. I became senseless. I must have been senseless for two three hours. When I woke up, I saw, it was still night. I searched my sickle and ran towards home. Next day, I took a bottle of Gangajal (holy water of river Ganga) to the field and summoning the rakas poured it there. After that, I never saw him. . I did not mention the incident to family or others. You are the first man before whom I am revealing this story”. Then he added- “that year I had bumper harvest. My wife gave birth to a son and I purchased land too. That year was very beneficial year to me.”

It was getting dark. We had taken enough rest there. We again started for home and I observed the old man was looking cheerful to share his story to me.

~~~ Ramanuj Dubey

Delhi and The Russian Girl ...

This is the story of eight to ten years back. I was waiting for auto at mandi house bus stand, Delhi. I saw a foreigner girl on the bench waiting for transport. She was in her early twenty, wearing salwar kamiz; she was gorgeous and looking vulnerable. I approached her and asked where she wanted to go. I came to know that she was from Russia, came here to attend short-term course in kathak dance and she wanted to go railway station. I was going to railway station only but I did not reveal to her.

After ten minutes of our conversation, an auto stopped at the bus stand. I bargained with auto driver for auto fare to railway station. Before I got into the auto, I told the girl – “I am going to railway station only. If you want to join me, you may come”. She looked indecisive for few second then she came and sat in the auto. When I was bargaining with auto driver for fare, he had not noticed the girl. He turned from his seat to look back and gave a lascivious look at her. Adjusting the mirror so that he could see the back seat clearly, he commented – “tanch mal hai (the girl is very sexy)”. I admonished him to mind his business. The girl was sitting very close to me but after that, she moved to the corner of the seat, and kept her face towards outside. She kept herself in that position until we reached railway station. After reaching railway station, she almost jumped from the auto, and without looking at us or saying anything, she entered the railway station. I felt her behavior strange. Perhaps, she noticed the vulgar gesture of auto driver and did not trust us.

Next day evening I was in front of Shri ram centre and having snacks. There I met a person who was from Bihar and living in the MP (Member of Parliament) Quarters that was just one kilometer far away from there. The MP, with whom he was associated with, was a famous leader and well known for his dabang politics (The leader is still an MP). He was familiar with my area and knew many influential people of that region. He told that he had written many lyrics for MP Sahib and sung too. His songs were used in the MP Sahib’s election campaign.  He sang few lines of the election song, and out of courtesy, I praised him. He took me to nearby fruit juice shop and offered me apple juice. When we were having apple juice, I saw the Russian girl coming towards us. She greeted me and apologized for yesterday. She told she had some urgent work and she was so preoccupied with it that she could not even thank me. I felt she was compensating yesterday’s behavior. I introduced my new friend as a well-known folk singer of Bihar. She expressed her desire to listen folk songs. We sat on the pavement. I was sitting in the middle and the girl was one side and our singer on the other side. The singer sahib changed his seat, sat beside the girl, and started singing. He came very close to her face and with closed eyes started singing election song. It was appearing as if he would enter into the girl’s mouth. Either he was pretending, or he was so engrossed in his song that he was unable to see the discomfort of the girl. The moment he finished the song, she got up and said to me “I have some urgent work to finish. I have to go now. Bye.” After saying that, she left the place.

My new friend looked unaffected by this incident. He shared his experience with foreign girl. “Last year two American girls had come to interview MP Sahib. I was in charge of looking after them. They became very good friend of me. They took many photographs of me, video recorded my songs. One girl even offered me sex but I did not agree. I am living at MP quarter, if anything goes wrong MP Sahib’s name will be spoiled. If I stayed somewhere else, I would not have refused her offer.” I did not respond, as I was not interested in his fantasy.

After two days, I was in Sri Ram centre bookstore, purchased few books and magazine. After purchasing, I went to canteen for coffee. When I was sipping coffee, I saw the Russian girl there. After seeing me, she came to my seat. She conveyed that she was planning to visit Banaras and Kolkata before leaving India. She wanted to see the book I purchased; I pushed all the books and magazine towards her. All books and magazines were in Hindi except one. That was  a weekly magazine in English. She started turning the pages of the magazine and read few pages of it. Suddenly she got up and without telling anything she left. I waited for her almost an hour. Her peculiar behavior was beyond my understanding. I picked up the magazine and tried to found out what she was reading. I found an article about thriving Russian prostitute business in Delhi. Perhaps, after reading the article she left from there suddenly.

After that, I stayed fifteen days more in Delhi but I did not see her. I do not know whether she was a genuine student, traveler or prostitute (?) but she looked very insecure in the city. I still remember her strange behavior and justify it with the ‘perhaps’ reasoning. It was true; her peculiar behavior bothered me and lingered in my mind for long.

~~~ Ramanuj Dubey

The Social Worker ..

I was waiting for train to arrive at the railway station. The train was almost four hours late .I was in perplexed mood whether I should spend four hours at station or come back home and again reach to the station on time. Before I could decide, a person sat beside me on the bench and warmly greeted me. I saw he was around forty years old, clad in payjama and khadi kurta, a cloth bag was slung over his shoulder and a diary was in his hand. After greeting, he gave a broad smile to me . he looked vaguely familiar to me. I tried to recognize him, put pressure on mind but unable to remember him. I cursed my poor memory and with apology I asked- “sorry, I am unable to recognize you. Do we know each other? Could you tell me where we have met?
He gave a loud laugh on my question. He answered – “See, how this world has changed today. This time people expect you to know him even for greetings, earlier it was not so. I do not know you, but you appear a gentle man, so I sat beside you.”

He introduced himself a social worker. He spoke in loud voice- “After independence of our country, we progressed in every field, we installed factories, created big dam, manufactured many things and tried to become self reliant. We opened up many schools, colleges and institution of national & international repute and got many doctors, engineers, teachers and scientists.” It appeared as if he was delivering a speech before a big crowd. I was feeling like a fool sitting beside him. I interrupted him, “what are you speaking, this is cliché, we know about it .What do you want to say?” He looked unhappy and he expressed it – “I do not appreciate, if my flow of thought is interrupted” and quickly added- “see, what I want to say is, we progressed in every field since independence but our country witnessed a drastic reduce in number of volunteers and social workers. India got independence because of big leaders and volunteers and social workers. After independent, nobody cared to become real social worker, that why India has so many problems. If every village has ten social workers, the fate of country will be completely different.”

The person, who was claiming himself a social worker, looked very interesting. His idea was not confined to just village, block or district, what he was telling, he was telling about pan India. Within twenty minutes of his speech, he explained a road map how our country would get rid of every problem through social workers. According to him, India could become world leader again, if the large number of people volunteered to be   social workers. He kept on speaking without any break, I tried to interrupt him, contradict him on three –four times, but he did not allow me to do so. It was one-way communication and he appeared satisfied with it.

He continuously spoke for half an hour and then suddenly he took a big pause. Perhaps he realized, in last five minutes, he was repeating himself, or seeing me uninterested tried to involve me. I utilized his pause and spoke - “I agree with you partially. We need social workers but this is just one but important element for community development. I want to know your contribution to society as social worker. By smile I guessed, He was waiting for his question. He asked –“Do you have at least one hour to see my work for society. I hate those who leave in mid day, when I elaborately discuss my work”. I saw the watch. Still train was late for three hours. I said- “I have sufficient time to listen you, please carry on”.

He put the diary in the cloth bag and took out a book from it. Handing over the book on my hand, he said – “see it; this is my first book on social issues”. I checked the book; it contained around eighty pages, published by local publisher. On the first page of the book, the social worker was with a local leader who was M.L.A till last election. In next page, his photograph was with a local singer who was notorious for singing raunchy songs. Next few pages contained songs and rest pages were full of his own kind of arguments about social workers. Before I could comment anything, he spoke – “Bidhayak ji (Ex- M.L.A) was very impressed with my idea and he encouraged me to write and got this book published. The singer wanted to sing my song and I gave him my permission for it. Very soon, song album will be out and my song will change the environment of this area.” After that, he spoke at length about his close relation with leaders, officers and culture people of the area. I changed the subject – “very nice! I am very impressed with your work. Do you have any organization?”

He was encouraged to hear me. He kept the book in the bag, pulled a folder, and opened it. The folder had many recommendation letters on his name.  Every letter was started with -To whomsoever it may concern. He started showing me. “See, the first one is given by the M.L.A sahib; he feels my kind of committed worker can change the society. If he had not lost the election, I would have added many social workers to the society now”. Next recommendation letter was written by a public relation officer of not so famous organization. Other two letters were from the professor of his college. Besides that, he showed me some paper cuttings and some photographs. He was showing the photographs to me, and explaining the occasion when it was taken. All occasions had no relation with any social work but I did not object. When he was exhausted with folder then very politely he spoke – “now do you agree or not, we need more social worker to change this country.”
I found no reason to prove him wrong. “Certainly we need more people like you for the society”- saying so, I got up from the seat, picked up my luggage and walked towards retiring room.

~~~ Ramanuj Dubey

Chicken Pox and The Sitla Maa

When I woke up that morning, I was feeling headache, mild fever and a strange sensation on my face. I picked up the sipper that was on the stool nearby my bed and drank the water. After drinking water, I stretched my hand to other side of the bed for small mirror. I was horrified to see my face in the mirror; there were many small pimples/ blisters sprouted on it. I was feeling itching sensation on them. I called my sister in law- “bhabhi, please come here. See, what happened to my face.”
Immediately she came and inspected my face. She exclaimed – “This is not any disease, Sitla Maa has come to you”. I could not understand what she was telling. Meanwhile, my brother came to the room and checked my face. He assured me – “no need to be panic. It appears that you have chicken pox. You will be all right within a week.  Bhabhi corrected my brother- “this is clear sign of Sitla Maa, please do not say it a disease .  We need to follow certain rules in home for a week, by the grace of Sitla maa, everything will be fine”. 
“But this is chicken pox, what is harm in saying disease a disease”- I asked.
“I am not illiterate or fool. This suffering is due to Sitla Maa, and this can be cured through devotion and traditional method only. I have seen adverse effect of medicine on such cases. Please do not argue and let me do my work.”- Very politely she spoke. I realized that my Bhabhi is as traditional as my mother is. I did not argue further.

Photo taken during chicken pox

Immediately, she got my room cleaned. She herself dusted my bookshelf, computer and bed. When room was thoroughly washed, cleaned and wiped then she hanged few leaves of neem around my bed. She wiped my face, gave me boiled food to eat and requested me not to come out but stay in that room for next seven days. She prepared an isolated ward for me in the house. She requested my brother not to bring onion, garlic, spices and other items that was prohibited during this period. Whole family was having boiled food during that time and following other rules like  not giving alms to beggar, not sharing food or giving any eatable items to other family. My sister in law was as strict guardian to me as my brother was but that time she was at my disposal all time. Interestingly, she would address me ‘maa’ during that period.  When I protested, she laughed – “those who suffer due to Sitla Maa, should be address as maa. This is the tradition. If you do not like it, please do not pay heed to it.This is just a matter of one week.” I was feeling myself Stranger in the house.

Meanwhile, my sister in law phoned and informed about me to my mother who was in the village. My mother talked over phone and consoled me. There is a Sitla sthan (temple -Abode of Sitla maa) in the village. My mother arranged a priest to visit the temple and worship for me to propitiate the goddess. In village, too, every member followed the rules and rituals associated with this disease. Even though my family was religious, but we believed in doctors and medicines with prayers. Dealing with chickenpox in this manner was certainly an isolated case. I called my friend who was a student of local medical college and explained everything, he said – “it looks strange, but you are following same what we provide in hospital. We keep the patient in isolated ward, as this is highly contagious and keep there for at least one week. Generally, we do not prescribe any medicines for it, we give ointment for blister but that is ineffective for first week. He advised me to drink plenty of water, not to scratch blister, pimples and remain in isolation for a week.  My brother overheard my phone call, he comforted me – “see, your problem is quite under control. Chicken pox generally takes seven days for cure. Within this week you will be ok.”

After three- four days, I started feeling normal. There was no fever like feeling or weakness in the body. Most of the blisters were dried and itching sensation was there. My sister in law would boil water with neem leaves and I would use that water to wipe face and body.  After seven days, I was almost all right. I had few scars on my face due to blisters. Last day, again room was cleaned with phenyl and detol and everything was arranged there as it was seven days before.

I was worried about the scars on my face and saw a dermatologist. He prescribed an ointment and advised me to wash the face with coconut water. One-day morning, after shaving, I was applying after shave on my face, my sister in law said – “see, you were not fair earlier, but by the grace of Sitla maa, now you look fresh and fair.”
 I feared, if I  contradicted her ,she would give me a lengthy lecture on Sitla maa, religion, spirituality and feel upset .I did not want to hurt her faith and sentiment, and thinking so  I just nodded my head in assent.

~~~ Ramanuj Dubey