Peace Warrior

Isn't our country worth a corporate?

Recently Mr.Ratan Tata has retired as Chairman from TATA group and is succeeded by Mr. Cyrus Mistry, a young entrepreneur. But it didn't happen as easily as we are talking now. A five member committee was formed to find a suitable successor for Mr.Tata. After a long scouting of 14 months the committee came up with a suggestion and that turned out be Mr. Cyrus Mistry. Not only TATAs, every corporate follows similar methods and takes utmost care while selecting its top executive.

      To become a civil servant in India, first you have to go through prelims and mains exams in which your knowledge is tested to its maximum extent. Then you have to undergo a tough personality test in the form of an interview. Then your past conduct should be proved to be squeaky clean by a local police investigation. After crossing all these hurdles you will gain the rights to serve the people of your country. Similar method with slight changes is followed for filling up several posts in both government and private sectors in India but standards may vary.

      While electing leaders in our country whose responsibility is to rule a constituency or a state or our entire country, I wonder why don't we exercise similar precautions. Have we ever bothered before voting for a candidate  whether he possesses enough knowledge about his region's conditions, his nation and administration? Have we ever bothered about the virtue and integrity of the candidate we are going to vote for? Have we ever bothered about his capacity to lead us into a better future? I doubt whether most of us did.

      Integrity, Capacity and intellect are taken into consideration while selecting persons for key roles in any organization. It is because the future of that organization lies in their hands and they have to lead their organizations towards sustained growth under the hood of moral administration. There is no place for incompetent and parochial minds. But what are we considering while selecting our leaders who have to steer our nation? Most of us consider religion, region, caste and social status while electing a candidate instead of considering his integrity, intellect and mettle. If that much care is taken while selecting a head for a mere company, just think how much care should be taken while selecting a leader for a huge democratic nation like India. Isn't our country worth a TATA group or Infosys?

      

Since our constitution has given us the right to choose our rulers, let's exercise a little conscience while choosing our leaders and don't let frivolous things influence our decisions. Just think that whether he deserves the position to rule us. Then only can we expect a fair administration from our leaders. Let's elect an executive who builds nation but not a parasite who eats up our national resources or a religious fanatic who disrupts internal peace. And if our choice is influenced by any other factors like caste, religion, language, region, money and other allurements like free stuff, we are doomed and dare not to say that the government is unfair. Because it is us who made it unfair and incompetent.

-By Viroti Somasekhar

Raghuram And Stray Dog

     Raghuram was awoken by a thump. At first he was startled and sprang out of his bed. But later got furious after seeing what has happened to his lunch which was put on a small trunk beside his cot by his mother. The rice was scattered on the floor. And that wily dog is going out through the opened door. What a pity! Besides not having lunch he has to clean up all that mess now. It bothers him a lot.  
   

     Of late this has become a daily routine for Raghuram. Who comes late at afternoon from college and sometimes slumps on his cot before finishing his lunch. Then that stray dog comes and spoils everything. And he has to spend that afternoon with an empty tummy. He is living in a little hut with his parents. They are out on the field doing farm work and he doesn't like to close doors in the afternoons as it gets dark in their hut. Although he was very fond of dogs, especially puppies, this dog is really getting on his nerves. So he decided to teach that dog a killing lesson. A lesson that it wouldn't forget for the rest of its life. 

     Raghuram, unlike his friends, always wants to do things in a different way. He didn't want to go for traditional methods against dogs like beating with a stick or throwing stones. During his school days while he was preparing a project for a science fair, he unexpectedly invented a simple but dangerous weapon. It is like a hybrid between traditional bow and modern gun. One day he was seriously making his hydraulic machine using disposed syringes. While doing that, he pinned needles of those syringes to a candle so they wouldn't hurt anyone. After some time he needed to inject some water into his hydraulic system. So he took out one of those needles pinned to the candle and attached it to a syringe filled with water. Then he started to push the plunger of that syringe but it didn't go and water didn't come out of the needle. He wondered. Took the syringe in his both hands and started to push its plunge using his two thumbs. Suddenly he heard a loud pop and the needle was disappeared from the syringe and the water in that syringe was spilled in front of him. He was bewildered and tried to figure out what exactly has happened.That needle left a small scratching mark on the wall facing him. He found the needle that was bent in "U" shape and lying in a corner of his room. He still couldn't make out why all this has happened. Suddenly he glanced at those needles, which were pinned to the candle and he immediately made out the reason behind this mishap. The wax of the candle got stuck with the needles and this chocked the water from gushing out of the syringe. The pressure generated while pushing the plunge of the syringe thus catapulted the needle with enough force so the needle got bent in "U'' shape after hitting the wall. He immediately rushed out taking remaining needles with him and tested them with a syringe filled with water and air alternatively. It worked well,especially on soft targets like the stems of trees. He felt very excited and waited for a right moment to introduce his finding to his friends. Of course that never happened, But the idea of that little experiment remained in his dormant memories.

     

     So now he decided to use that weapon on this annoying dog. A punishment that no one could ever have given to a stray dog. So he made everything ready for the next day. He lied under the blanket on his cot pretending to be asleep. The dog reached his hut.Peeped into it and saw Raghuram sleeping on his bed. So it slowly sneaked up into the house and reached for his lunch that was put on the top of the little trunk. It began to smell the delicious curry served with the rice and trying to remove the covering on the rice. Raghuram was eagerly waiting for that very moment. His weapon was ready in his hands. Just one quick push on the plunge, the dog would never forget this pain. All he has to do is to wait for the ripe moment and find a soft target on its body. The dog, unmindful of the danger dangling upon it, happily eating the delicious lunch and making puffing sounds. 

      After a careful watching, Raghuram decided to aim for the belly of the dog, the only soft spot where the chances of the needle missing its target are few. He was ready to strike. He felt agitated. But before he was going to shoot the needle, he just tried to imagine how much damage could that needle do to the dog. After shooting the needle it goes straight with bullet speed and strikes its belly. Then the dog will release a hysterical cry and rushes out of the hut. It jumps, wriggles, moans and does all sorts of feets to get rid off that deadly needle. Thereafter it dare not to look at this house. The needle remains stuck to the stomach. After some days it gets infected and the dog will experience a terrible death. Death!!?? I'm going to kill a dog? The very idea of dog's death made Raghuram felt a pang of guilt in his heart. He looked at the dog. That was very skinny. Its body was bruised and pus was oozing out of its wounds. It was eating food with such an eagerness and excitement as if it was the last day of its life. He felt pity for the dog. He gently shooed it out of the hut. He wondered that how could he thought of such a cruel plan. He spent some time with unrest as he was unconvinced of this sudden change in his decision. However he felt relaxed by the evening.

     Next day, before eating his lunch,Raghuram took some portion out of his lunch and put it in the leaf of a teak tree outside his hut. You know for whom it is left,don't you?

-By Viroti Somasekhar

     

What are those ten scrolls?

One of my friends in one of his letters to me, mentioned this incomplete story.......He said it was a 2000 year old tale. And it goes like this...

Once upon a time there lived a successful salesman called Hafid. He lived in an elegant palace equipped with all sorts of amenities and luxuries of that time. During his last days he asked his truthful servant and friend to distribute all his wealth to the poor after his death and also bequeathed him his entire wealth and treasures. Later he had taken his servant to a deserted room in a corner in his palace that was kept locked for decades. The only object within that room was an old chest containing some tattered scrolls. Showing them to his servant Hafid said,"When a star had followed me from the sky,recognizing my good deeds, my guru gave these scrolls to me. I owe all my success, happiness, love, wealth and inner peace that I'm enjoying now to the  knowledge which was scribbled in these ten scrolls. And I had been instructed by my guru to pass them on to my next successor, on whose arrival a star reappears on the sky."

He stopped the story here and told me that he would finish the remaining part in his next letter. Of course that didn't happen. I too had forgotten about that in the mean time. It has been almost three years since then. Today while I was rearranging the books in my cupboard I found a bunch of letters which I had received from my friends. So many letters....They were all about sharing and caring. I had spent all my evening in reading them. How beautiful!! My precious letters are. Some funny,some emotional,some poetic,some inspiring, some condemning, some arguing, some longing and together they all poked the dormant memories of the time when I was engaged in vigorous lettering. Somehow I had stopped lettering unconsciously. Hmm...I must resume that. Of course texting and mailing are prevalent these days. But a letter written by our own hand is incomparable in this technological pandora's box. A letter in its folds contains the fragrance of our dear ones for ages.

After a while, when I was lone and feeling lonely, I just reach for one of my letters, unfold it and caress its ragged surface only to come up with the questions and thoughts like "what are those ten scrolls?"

People change, but the words and feelings in these letters, they never change.......

-By Viroti Somasekhar

No one cares if I don't bloom......

Spring has come again. No one cares if I don't bloom.But I bloom. After all, this is what I was born for.
After the depressing winter has gone,there comes a promising spring, bringing with it the fragrance of vernal blooms. New tender leaves grow on older twigs...so we get a fresh look filled with grace. We grow with seasons.Spring goes, Rain comes. Rain goes giving ground to the Winter. And it goes on until we fall. I don't know how old I'm. Not too old and not too young perhaps. I always want to share my pride. The unspoken pride of a Tree, though it is of minuscule significance in this vast world. I always feel proud of what I have been through and what I am now. I just need someone who has a heart to hear my story. My story may sound a bit bland. Nevertheless it is a story worth listening. I want to share: How I felt when I first saw the Sun and felt the air and water when I was just a little shoot; How I withstood the anomalies of nature; How I felt when I first flowered. How it feels to stand against the scorching heat,lashing storm and freezing winter; How it feels to stand rooted to a single place. How I wept when my friends were chopped down; How I danced with the crooning wind in those harmonious evenings; How we always give or do something useful within our remit. How I waited for someone to share my story. It seems like a small list. But that is all I could express for the present with my little immature experience. Hmm....lets see who comes near to hear my story....Anyway the spring has just arrived. Time to bloom...

-By Viroti Somasekhar

When I was seven.,

When I was 7 years old, we used to live in a rented house in a semi urban area within the remit of Vizag.I was studying 2nd class then.I got 3 friends:Sai,Rama and Srikanth at home.They went to another schools,so we would play together in the evenings after school and on Sundays.Among these 3 Srikanth's house was adjacent to ours.He rarely came out to play,so I didn't remember much about him except for a small fray in which we both bullied each other about who had got the good name.Ha ha ha....I don't remember who won.

         When it comes to Rama and Sai, I really enjoyed their company.Rama was lissome and always had a fringe hair cut.Her house was a few yards off ours.There was a small open place in front of her house and we used to play there.When it rained water would pool in the center of that open place,making a small pond.We would leave paper boats in that little pond and observed while they were moving to the occasionally blowing wind.While playing I used to tease her by calling 'Pakija".She would go and complain to her mother.Aunt would come and say "Sekhar,it is not fair to call like that,never call her with that name".I would nod innocently 'Okay aunt,I'd never do that", like a good boy.Well the cycle would repeat.She was very crafty at catching butterflies and dragonflies.It was she who taught me how to catch them.She had been suffering from asthma at that age.Whenever I went to her house to call her out for playing she was seen sneezing into the pistol shaped plastic inhaler and taking some colorful mint like tablets.I found that activity very interesting and amusing.That I liked the puffing sound while she was using inhaler and wanted to do like that.Of course I never dared to ask aunt for that favor.

          Sai's house was an independent and old one surrounded by a fence.Creepers and bushes with different colored flowers coiled along that fence.Their house was like a little garden that I liked staying there. Sai's face always reminded me of an egg.He was stout but unstable in his movements.He couldn't run fast,couldn't talk clearly and when it comes to physical activity he was an under performer.I did always bet him about a running race and we ran to the other end of the ground which was ended up by a compound wall and returned to the starting point.Rama would sit and watch our race.I always won.I used to spend a lot of time at Sai's house.There we used to play a funny game with tamarind seeds.His mother would sit by,watch us and would guide Sai about how to play.Here also I used to claim all the seeds at the end.His mother would scold Sai for not playing well.I had to cross a bushy ground for reaching his house.That ground was full of yellow colored locusts.At that age I dreaded them so much as everyday I prayed to God,asking him to take away all those locusts from earth so that I could reach Sai's home without fear.

       In rainy season we three had a lot fun in catching the new off spring of frogs.Rama always feared to touch them but enjoyed watching while Sai and I were catching them.Sai was so blunt that he squeezed those tiny things unconsciously and most of them were dead in his hands.Some times monkeys did visit that ground and we would watch them from a safe distance,clapping,making loud cries and laughing at their funny gestures.It went like that for sometime.

          All of a sudden one day I woke up as usual in the morning and perplexed to find a Tiger's wall paper on the wall in front of me.I remembered that there was no such thing in my house.I wanted to get off the bed and fell to the floor.That bed was not ours.Ours was much smaller than that.Darn, that house was not ours.I was not in my house.But I was sure that last night I went into cozy sleep while listening to a bed time story told by Dad,who slept by my side.Where am I?I wondered.While I was sunk in my dilemma,that aunt came in with smiling face and told me that last night my brother got serious and couldn't breath well and was taken to hospital by my parents,Since I was fast asleep I was shifted to their house in sleep.Things got blur and I didn't remember much after that incident.We had moved to Vizag,brother was admitted in KGH.

     Rama might have been married to someone by now.Sai and Srikanth might be doing a job or some kind of business somewhere.I'm not sure whether they remember me....Whatever...I remember a small part of my past...well it is beautiful.

-By Viroti Somasekhar

The Fallen

The Fallen!!........Never count a Fallen One as an inferior.....
The story of a Fallen One is as intriguing as that of a Winner.
He might not have won the battle.... But what makes him worth remember is that...
He shows the same wit and gri...t during the battle.
He holds on to the fight amidst several bedlams.
He puts all his energy into the battle....for him it is living.It is meditation.It is an art.It is prayer.And it is his destiny.
He uses battle as a medium of communication to declare who is bound to win.
And after the battle is over,he humbly accepts the result and starts preparation for his next successful strike.
Finally he makes us realize that he is in no way inferior to the Winner, as it is that last moment which holds the fate of the fight, is the only difference between them.Except for that he matches his opponent in every skill to a great extent.

A Fallen One can be equally placed beside a Winner as an inspiring personality. Maybe we are too used to read the tales of Winners. After all history is all about triumphants.

 How about getting out of the rut..... Let's imbibe the spirit of a Fallen One... Let their stories awake from the apathy and degradation. Start collecting the tales of losers.... If not available....write one..... Galore of Fallen Ones are hanging out there.... When you find them try not to miss experiencing the gleam in their eyes while narrating their stories....... All of us are bound to fall at a magical moment in our lives and are left with two options in our hand. Rise..!?Don't Rise..!?....... For a Fallen One the choice may not always be the ideal one ...It is because he is The Fallen... And he commits mistakes....
-Warrior within