Scooter, Horse & Our Teachers ..

When our physics teacher purchased a scooter, everybody in the school congratulated him. He parked the scooter at the entrance of the veranda and all the teachers came out of the office to see the two-wheeler. As a proud owner, he was showing all technical specification of the vehicle to them. The peon of the school on the pretext of wiping the body of scooter checked all the components of it. Kudos to scooter, his prestige further increased in the eyes of students as well other employees. When I remember the incident, it appears as an advertisement of two-wheeler running before my eyes.  In early nineties, Scooter was not less than a luxury in rural area of Bihar. There were very few people, who had scooter/ bike in my village and surrounding areas.

After few months, our Hindi and English teacher also purchased bike. Few students, who were coming to attend the school the from long distance also started coming in scooter.  Earlier there was only bicycle parking; now the headmaster of the school had to allot the place for scooter / bike parking in the campus.  New development in the school increased the workload of the school peon.  Now the peons had to wash and clean the bikes, for that, they used to get some extra money from the teachers.

Our Sanskrit teacher did not like this change. It had some reasons too. He was a very good orator and he had a say in every happening of the school. He had good hold on the villagers. Any new happening in the school was impossible without his consultation / consent.  However, the new development was nothing but unsaid threat to his authority and hold on the school. The peons used to do errand for him, they would even massage his feet sometimes but these days they were busy in the service of scooters and other masters.

One day, in classroom, he was very critical about machine and technology. He was relating machine to moral degradation of the human being. However, his lecture was creating very little / no impression among the students. He sensed it and during an argument with a student, he proclaimed that he would prefer horse for personal travelling than scooter. The real enjoyment what one could get from horse riding could not be compared with machine riding. We became silent to see his forceful declaration, but in our heart, we had doubt on his words.

Lo! Next day he came to school on horse.  All students and teachers surrounded him in the school field and he was showing them his riding skills. It was a spectacular sight. He got admiration from all. A pillar was allotted to tie the horse in the school campus. He selected four students from different class for special care of the horse and He gave instruction to peons to give proper bath to horse in the nearby pond (shiv Ganga) every alternative day. That day he was very pleased to see the arrangements for the horse.

The students looked after the horse very well. They sacrificed their classes sometimes but did not forget to purchase the fodder from the market and feed the horse on time. The Sanskrit teacher amply compensated them in Sanskrit subject. In first trimester, all four were toppers in their respective class. They even checked the examination copies of their fellow students and they were happy with it.

Those students, who wrote well in the examination but did not get good marks, attributed it to the horse.  They identified that the real culprit for their low marks in Sanskrit was the horse. They found out that, expects Sanskrit those four students also could not do well in other subjects. The students exhorted the four to concentrate on study rather than serving horse, but the four did not listen. They started teasing the four, they teased all the time, in class, in playground, among friends and it worked. The four became irregular in the class and it affected the health of the horse. The Sanskrit teacher again selected four new students for the service of horse but they were careless in their assigned duty. As a result, the horse became weak and fell ill. Then our teacher realized that horse riding might be a fun but looking after horse was an uphill task.

We heard that he sold that horse in local market. After that, he used to ride pillion on his son’s bike to reach school.

~~~ Ramanuj Dubey

SSQ, Shenaz & My Love ..

When I entered into the cabin of Medical officer colonel Chakrabarty, the medical assistant of the station sick quarter (SSQ) was already there. He was standing in attention position and after seeing me, he simpered. Morning I had altercation with him. As per the rule of SSQ, watching television (TV) during doctor ward round was prohibited. The ward round time was from 9am-11am. The recreation room was separated from the patient ward by a glass wall.  After getting my check up done, I would go recreation room and watch TV. The medical assistant, citing the rule, requested me not to watch TV in ward round time. I did not listen and he complained to Medical officer Colonel Chakarbarty.  At that time, Colonel Chakrabarty was writing something on paper, when he finished he looked at me. I greeted him. Without replying the greet, he spoke “Mr. Dubey, in defence, I am not only a doctor but an officer too. You are not only a patient but also a disciplined member of defence (Air Force ) family. Why these complain against you? Why do you watch TV during doctor’s ward round time?”
I did not speak for some time. He commanded, “Tell something”.
“Sir, I like the programme ‘MTV Most wanted ‘and I like the VJ Shenaz. The program comes at 10 am during ward round time”- I blurted.
“What???” – He was surprised on my honest confession.
“What do you like most -programme or VJ” – This was next question.
“VJ Shenaz presents the programme very nicely. She is really a cool VJ”- I answered.
“Then tomorrow at 10 am, I will also have to come to see your VJ. Let me see how cool she is” – he was laughing.  Anyways, I got the permission to watch TV in reduced voice.

When we came out of the cabin, the medical assistant (I do not remember his name) explained that he had nothing against me; he was just doing his duty.  After this incident, He became good friend of mine. He was from a lower middle class Jat family of Haryana with three years of service length in defence. Recently he had purchased a two-wheeler from the defense canteen, beside bike; his other precious possessions were three ray ban goggles, a good number of branded jeans & t- shirt and two woodland shoes and with these possessions, he used to flaunt before subordinates.

One day he confided a secret to me – “I have a girl friend, studying in Inter second year. We met at Marina beach, we spend every Sunday together and every night she calls me on my office number. We usually talk for hours. Tomorrow on Saturday, I am going on leave for ten days. If she calls here, please inform her that due to some urgent work I went on leave. Say not to call or inquire about me on office number during my leave period.”
“But why do not you inform her directly?”- I advised him.
“Oh! That I cannot do. She made a plan to visit Mahabalipuram this Sunday and I gave assent to her plan, but I am going home.”- He explained.
I assured him that I would say the same to her what he briefed me. The landline phone receiver was in recreation room and I was eagerly waiting for her call.

On Saturday night, at around 11pm, the phone rang. I understood that that would be her phone. True, it was she only. I explained her everything and informed her that he would come after ten days. I was relieved thinking that my friendly responsibility is over, but I was not knowing that it has just started.
“But who are you”- she asked.
“I am a patient, recuperating in SSQ. He became my friend here.”- I answered.
“ are you ok ? Were you seriously ill? How long have you been in hospital?”- There was concerned in her voice.
I answered her all question.  She asked many questions, about like, dislike, home state, job, hospital, food habit, defence culture etc. when she exhausted , she asked “ May I call you tomorrow ? I like talking with you.”

It was true, I too liked talking with her but I had a guilt feeling. How can I talk to my friend’s girl friend?  When I expressed my view to her, She laughed “oh! I am not telling you to become my boy friend. Just I want to talk. You know, I feel lonely in house.”
I come to know that her father a marine engineer and her mother was a lecturer somewhere three hundred kilometer faraway from Chennai.  She was seventeen years old, inter second years student and she was getting training in music and dance.

From that day onwards, everyday, she would call me around 11 pm and our talk would go on till 4am. One day she sang few songs of vengaboys and aqua. Indeed, she had very nice voice.
“Do you have girlfriend “- on fifth day she asked.
If she had asked first day this question, I would have answered this in negation. During these five days, a rapport had built up between us. I thought to be honest in my answer.
“I do not know whether she is my girl friend or not, but there is a girl who gave me a letter when I was in hospital. After that, few times we have met. We have exchanged few letters. She is from D-Dun, staying in hostel. From two months I have not communicated.” – I confessed.
“Oh! You should talk to her. Do you have her hostel number?”
“But how can I call her. The warden will not allow me to talk with her”
“true! But pretend her relative, father, brother or uncle over phone – then you may talk to her” – she encouraged me.

That idea struck me. There was a phone booth in the campus. Next day evening I went to the booth tried to call on hostel number. It was very difficult for me to pretend someone. I was feeling as if I was going to do some crime. I could not phone her. I do not know why that day I felt that I should not even talk to my friend’s girlfriend. Suddenly I stopped attending her phone. That night her phone came, I disconnected. Next day I did the same. Then after, she did not call on SSQ number.

That was the story of year 2000. At that time, I was infatuated with VJ Shenaz. I would not miss her any episode of MTV most wanted. I saw her in movie ‘Ishq-vishq’ but I did not like her work. Last time she was in news when she wrote to prime minister and other celebrities about women safety.  Today I checked her profile on Wikipedia and find out she is panelist on the programme ‘The Nightly show with Larry Willmore’.

After SSQ, I did not keep any communication with the medical assistant or his girl friend. Few months back, I saw in dream a girl singing the song ‘salalala... song ‘for me. I kept thinking about the dream and when I put pressure on my mind then I realized it was the voice of the medical assistant’s girl friend.  That day I felt, how wonderful and amazing our mind is. It stores everything without any decay.

After hospital, I never met or communicated to the girl who had borderline love with me. Recently, I checked her name on face book and got thirty finding. I thought to check each one, then felt, it was nothing but a waste of time. I smiled and removed her name from ‘search face book’.

  ~~~ Ramanuj Dubey

Hoax SMS, Call & Parable ..

Yesterday 3^rd August 2015 at 10:04:45 am, I received a SMS from the mobile number +919555376557 . The message was in capital letter. The content of the SMS I am giving below verbatim :-

Good News : Your mobile number has won 2.6 crore in UK BBC Olympic award, to claim ur prize , send your name, address, phone no., Age, sex, job to bbc_claimuk@live.co.uk.

After reading the message, I thought to call on the above number. Later I thought, communicating to the number will serve their purpose only. Anybody can understand that, the message is nothing but a dupe to deceive gullible people. Why on earth, any individual or organization will award such huge money to any mobile number. I have read many stories of cheating and fraud that started with such messages and emails. The best way to deal with such SMS is to avoid it, ignore it.

Like the same, around three years ago, I received a call. The number was from Uttar Pradesh (I have noted down that number somewhere in diary, unable to find out now). The caller was telling that he found a pot full of gold somewhere in Rajasthan. He was almost in very authoritative voice  telling me to come there to collect as his friend had given my number to him. When I told him - I did not know any one by the name who he was referring his friend, I did not want such booty, keep that money yourself, he started abusing me in filthy language. I kept my mobile off that night.

After few months, again, I received the call; the caller explained the same story and wanted to share gold with me. When I advised him to submit the gold to police station as gold, silver or any article of historical importance found during digging the earth is the property of the state. He got enraged with my advice. Again, I faced the same story; the caller used very filthy language. I smsed to that number stating that if I received any call from that number or any other number regarding this, I would certainly complain to police. However, my SMS did not deter them to call me. After five minute of sending SMS, I received the call again from that number and his tone was still vulgar. I had no option but to call police on number 100. The police heard my complain and advised me not to get panic. The police personnel who picked up the phone told me – “many people received such hoax call recently. We are working on it. Wait for some time. If the caller harass you further, go and file the complain at nearest police station.”  After that, I did not receive the call.

Sometimes I wonder, what kind of people they are who do such kind of mean, fraudulent and anti social work. In the 21^st century, when the society has advanced so much, they still use gold pot story or lucky award tactics. Truth is that, many of us are very naïve and gullible who come into the trap of such heinous criminal.

I have a friend who is an agriculture laborer. Once he had shared very interesting experience. He told me – “Why not I eat twenty rotis, my hunger does not subside if I get the rotis in free. I do not know why I feel my belly full even in two rotis if  I earn / pay the price of the rotis.”

What my friend ,who is from deprived class shared his experience to me is nothing but a parable for me. Moral of his experience is that a person gets real satisfaction from his hard-earned money only. This parable always saves me from all kind of unholy temptation.  I  firmly believe in hard-earned money, not in luck, lottery or any kind of booty.

~~~ Ramanuj Dubey

Right Help to A Wrong Person ..

I got down from the bus and walked towards the ATM. It was around 7 pm and I had a list of articles in my hand that I intended to purchase from the kothi (old Hyderabad) market. Before I could step inside the ATM cabin, someone patted on my shoulder. I turned back and saw a scrawny fellow with friendly smile. He was in full pant and half shirt, wearing a glass, front two teeth was missing. He must be more than sixty years old.

‘Yes, what do you want?’-I asked. There was some irritation in my voice.
In very soft and gentle voice he replied –‘could you spare few seconds for me? ‘
He was so polite in his reply that I regretted why I spoke a bit harshly. His reply had a magic spell on me. I reciprocated him in the same tone.
‘Yes uncle, what can I do for you?’
The ATM was near by a petrol pump and just beside the pump, one bench was there.
Pointing towards the bench he asked, – ‘Could you please come over there?’
I followed him and both of us sat on that bench.
He started –‘My name is Rajendran (he told his full name but I could remember only Rajendran). I am a retired person. My hometown is Warangal. I had some work in government hospital. The work is over but when I came out from the hospital and put my hand in my pocket, I found my money was missing. There was four hundred rupees in my pocket; it seems somebody stole my money. I do not know any soul in the city. I have not eaten anything since morning. I wanted to purchase my medicine but now I cannot. I do not know how I will go to Warangal, my home town’.
He took my both hand in his hand, spoke pleadingly, - ‘Son, you can only help me out. I will not forget your help entire my life. Please help me’. After he finished, he started rubbing his eyes, as if trying to wipe tears from the eyes.

I was in fix. I was not prepared for such story. How I should react to this person-, I asked myself. Just a moment ago, I have addressed him uncle and I was polite to him. After hearing his story, I wanted to escape from there but there was no way out. He was almost weeping before me, looking at me with hope.

I got up from the bench and said – ‘uncle, I have many works to do. I have sympathy for you, but I am afraid, I will not be able to help you. It is better if you ….’
‘Do you know Hindi?’- He asked.
Yes, I know very well, I am from Bihar. I replied.
‘I am also from north only. My father was working in Jamshedpur, Tata Company. When he retired, I joined Tata. Until retirement, I was there only. From last three years, I have been in Warangal. I do not find peace here. I miss Jamshedpur a lot.’ Then he added- son, please help me.  Today is the worst day of my life, feeling very embarrassed to beg like this.

I was moved to hear his last sentence.  One portion of my heart was telling that he was a fraud; other was telling he might be genuine.  Anyway, I changed my mind and decided to help him.

‘How much money do you require?’I asked.
‘Four hundred. If I get three hundred than also I can manage with it’. There was relief in his voice.

I withdrew the money and handed over three hundred rupees to him. When he asked my mobile number and address, I refused to give him.
‘Do not worry. I do not want it back.’ – But he was adamant.
‘A dignified person does not want to owe anyone. Son, give me your address, as soon as I reach Warangal, I will send that money through money order’.

When he vehemently insisted, I gave my address.  At that time, I was a student, staying in hotel cum guesthouse of the institution. Till one month of that incident, I waited for money order, I would  inquired about  it (money order)  from the receptionist of the guest house and the post man. After that, I stopped inquiring.

Around six month of that incidence, again I went to kothi for some purchasing. Out of curiosity, I visited the place where I met with Mr. Rajendran . To my surprise, he was on that bench with a middle-aged person, telling him the story. When he saw me, he stood up, spoke something hastily to that person and strode away in opposite direction.

I talked to the person who was sitting on the bench. Mr. Rajendran was telling him the similar story expect that his native place and name. This time for that person, he was from Karnataka and his name was something else. I just laughed and left the place.

The night I helped Mr. Rajendran, I narrated the story to one of my friends. He told me ‘I do not know, whether he was a fraud or genuine, as he mentioned it was his worst day of life, you did a right job helping him ‘. I still feel I gave a right help to a wrong person.


~~~ Ramanuj Dubey

The Beggar Girl ..

This is the story of almost five years back. I was sitting at the corner of the bench at bus stand, waiting for the bus. I saw other side of the road; a small girl was pulling a bag from the hand of the old man who was carrying it. The bag contained fresh vegetable and the old man was struggling to free the bag from the hand of that small girl. I thought the small girl might be relative of the man wanting to get something from the market and to put pressure on him she was doing like that. I saw the helpless sweating face of the man, speaking something to that girl, then he took out some coins from the pocket and gave that to her. She collected the coins from that man and ran towards the bus stand. I laughed to see her audacious behavior, and she noticed my laugh. When she came near to me, then I realized that girl was a beggar. The beggar girl was around eight or nine years old, she was in dirty cloths, carrying a small cloth bag at her back and her appearance was repulsive.  The innocence and divine smile that generally found in the eight or nine year’s kid , that was missing in her instead there was a stubbornness and rigidity on her face.


She came to me, stroke at my hand and asked for money.  I pretended to ignore her existence. She hit at my hand three to four times but I did not notice it. When she saw, her all tactics failed, she put her small hand on my thigh and started running her finger on it. It was very unexpected and obscene act and I rebuked her very loudly.  However, she did not go immediately. She waited there for almost two minutes and when she felt I would not give her alms, she left the place murmuring something. There was hostility towards me in her eyes. After this incident, few times, I saw her begging at bus stand, but she never bothered me.


Almost two years back, one of my friends had come to stay with me for few days. He used to go for evening walk every day. One day I accompanied him and both of us took the road from the bus stand and walked almost five kilometers. While returning I felt bit hungry, stopped at a small shop, drank a glass of water and purchased few packets of snacks. We were walking and having that snacks. Suddenly somebody snatched the packets from the hand and ran opposite of us. When I turned my head, I saw the same beggar girl with few other kids. There was a triumphant smile on her face. I was angry but I let her go.

This is the incidence of one and half years ago. It was around 10 o’clock night.  I was returning from the market   from public transport and there were hardly eight to ten passengers in the bus. Before two kilometers from the bus stand, the Bus officials stopped the bus for ticket check. I was at window seat, showed my ticket to the official and looked outside through window. There were many trees and brushes opposite of the road. My eyes stopped at one brushes, the street light was making that brushes almost visible. What I saw, I was unable to digest. I saw the beggar girl was in compromising position with a boy. I could not see the boy’s face but he was looking around twenty-five years old. I turned around to see, if anybody noticed in the bus what just now I saw.  One student, sitting behind my seat, was seeing the brushes side only.  When he saw I was looking at him, immediately he turned his eyes from that direction.


That night I could not sleep. The beggar girl was whole night in my night. Is she a part of beggar racket? Is she into prostitution? Is she working for any anti social element? Or she just a teenager from the deprived class? I remember, when I saw her first time five years ago, that day also she occupied my mind for some time. I checked few websites who could help such girls but did not find concrete answer. I asked that day, as an individual could I do anything for her. There were many answers of this question. But I found out that it is very easy to have just sympathy and concerned for deprived section than to become a real doer.  It needs guts, grit and determination to become a real doer and unfortunately many of us, despite of good intention fail to do so.

~~~ Ramanuj Dubey

ICU and the Old Man .

When I was shifted from general ward to intensive care unit (ICU), at that time I was writhing in pain. I had shooting pain in my left hand and I was vigorously throwing my hand in air. Pain was unbearable and my head was spinning. The doctor arrived and checked my blood pressure and temperature.

 ‘Temperature is normal but blood pressure is quite high’- he told to compounder and prescribed some medicines on the paper. Meanwhile, a nurse came and administered an injection to me. After injection, what happened that night I did not know. Next day morning when I woke up, I saw some saline water with some medicines was given to me through vein. My left hand was swollen and right hand was engaged through pipe connected to saline bottle. I felt as if I was invalid.

‘How is your pain, young man’- the doctor asked me.
‘Not feeling well, unable to move my hand – dull pain everywhere ‘- I was in tear.
‘Do not worry, everything will be all right. You will be alright very soon’- there was optimism in his voice.

After three days, the swollen part of my left hand subsided, pain was still there.  First time in my life (of course, after childhood), I was completely dependent on others. It was too embarrassing to call ward boy /some body for helping me in even attending natural calls. In nighttime, on few occasions, even nurse helped me in it.  I was in that condition for next seven days. Despite of all available protective treatment, care and facilities, Intensive care unit was not less than a hell for me. After ten days, my condition improved and I asked doctor to shift me from ICU to other ward, but doctor would not listen.

‘No, we will keep you here some more days for observation. If your condition is stable, then only we will shift you in other ward’- he said to me.

‘Now I am a walking patient. Feeling good. ICU appears jail to me now, cannot lie on the bed all the time ‘- I retorted.

‘Think ICU a part of prescription only. We too, do not want to keep any patient in ICU unnecessary.’- He smiled and left my bed.

Next day morning, one old man was shifted in the ICU adjacent to my bed. When he was shifted, at that time his bed was covered with moving screen but later on it was removed. He was around eighty years old, a freedom fighter and retired government officer. When he was admitted that time, his condition was looking worse but by the evening, he recovered well. I greeted him in the evening. He smiled and asked about me.  He looked very concerned when He came to know I too was a patient.

In night around 2am, he needed water. He called nurse for it. Because of hectic evening schedule, the nurse was dozing off in the cabin. I woke up and gave him water. His next medicine was around 5 am, at that time I woke up the nurse. Then next two days, I took care of his medicine and other needs. He was a talkative old man, he told many stories of his college days, offices and his family. These two days, ICU was not so boring. I liked the old man.

Third day, in the evening, he called me to his bed and then he called the doctor. Before the doctor, he started praising me a lot. He inquired from the doctor what problem I was facing and what my medical condition was. When he came to know that I would be discharged very soon, he was happy. After Doctor left the ICU, he blessed me profusely and prayed for my speedy recovery. I was overwhelmed by his love and affection. That night before sleeping, I did not know why I offered him a glass of water , touched his feet and thanked him for his blessings.

Next morning, when I woke up, I saw that bed empty. When I asked the nurse, she told me that he had been shifted some other place. I was sad.

After two days, I was also shifted from ICU to other ward. Before leaving the ICU, I asked the address of the old man. The nurse replied- ‘You know Ramanuj, that day, I did not tell you the truth.  The old man died that night only. His body was taken to his native place that night.. ..

I could not hear what she was telling.I was shocked to hear about his death. I was sobbing.

This is the incident of almost one and half decade ago ,still I remember his blessing and saintly & glowing face.

~~~ Ramanuj Dubey

Blogging game ..

You have not written your blog from long. Any reason? – She inquired.

I did not reply. I did not know what to respond to this question. True, from last three months I have not written anything on my blog. However, I do not write regularly. Since 2010, I have been blogging and average blogging per year is around twenty-four.  Two blogs per month average. Maximum eight posts in a month and minimum zero.

Were you busy these days? That was her next question. Perhaps, seeing me mum, searching a probable answer.

Again, it was a very difficult guess. It is true that I always keep myself busy, every morning ( it depends upon when I wake up )  I make a schedule for myself and try to follow it. Economical or non-economical , I keep myself occupied in productive /and positive work. I never included writing blog regularly in my schedule. Reason- I started asking this question to myself.

Or, you are just lazy like me? Seeing me puzzled, she added.

Ya, you may say, I am lazy. I smiled at her conclusion.

May be laziness, maybe I do not find any stimuli for writing blog regularly, may be ….

Can I play a blogging game with you? She interrupted me.

Blogging game?

Yes. You need to write thirty blog in a month and it should not be less than five hundred words. I will give you every day one topic. You have to...

I am not interested. I cut her short. Her enthusiasm ebbed away. She was a bit disappointed.

But why?

I do not know. I write blog when I feel writing it. I do not like the idea to get a topic from you everyday.  Where is the game in it? What will be compensation for this work? I was acting like a wicked before her.

She paused for a while, and then she continued – ok, I will not give you topics. You choose your own topic everyday. As far as compensation is concerned, for every blog I will give you a book of my choice, price not more than two hundred rupees.

I like the compensation offer but your choice of books in the compensation component is not acceptable. As I will be the reader, Books should be of my choice.  I argued.

She was livid. See, everywhere you want upper hand .  Ok, I want to make few changes in compensation offer. You will write thirty blog in a month and in the end of the month, you will get the book worth of three thousand rupees (hundred rupees per blog post) from your choice. If you fail to complete the thirty blog in a month then you will get nothing. If you want to get book of my choice, you will get it immediately after each blog post.

I was very amused to see her offer.

 I want to read the book of my choice.  As you reduced the compensation from two hundred to one hundred per blog for my choice of books, then increase the time limit from one month to two months. Then it will be justice. I put forth my demand before her.

After haggling for half an hour, she agreed for two months. But before leaving, she did not forget to award me with adjectives ‘Incorrigible’ and ‘Strong headed’.

Now I realize, I could have made this blogging game more interesting involving her. I was bit selfish and immodest in my conduct .

Anyways, at this time I am only thinking sixty days, thirty blog posts and books worth of three thousand rupees. A great motivator factor and stimuli for writing blog now .

 ~~~ Ramanuj Dubey