Lucknow Boy- Book Review

An intriguing account of the most sacked Editor in the history of Indian journalism. Presents an honest depiction of how the Print media houses and governments dealt with each other in the 80s, 90s and thereafter. Indirectly you get a chronological account of how print media has evolved over the decades. The debates of freedom of press and cross-media ownership are well interwoven in his story. But there comes a point where the author loses track of the theme. It becomes more a political commentary than a memoir. Towards the end, one chapter deals with great insight on role of an editor, can prove to be useful for aspiring journalists. Overall it's pretty average a read, editors are not writers, not good ones perhaps.

Time lapse

Darkness was being chased away by the dawn. The cold breeze gushed across, as if to cover up the commotion. The ponds across the highway were adorned with the mystical confluences of haze. The golden rays breaking the clouds open, had lit up the landscape.

The transition from plain to hills was turbulent with the angry winds descending from above. Dreary clouds accompanied the hillocks, stood proudly at the vantage point. As if waiting. The passage through showcased a spectrum, from drizzle to hailstorm. At the top, it was all calm again. The white clouds seemingly provided a motherly embrace to the the lush green forest.

Guwahati to Dadenggre. NH 51. RE Thunderbird.
Five hours~Numerous seasons. Time lapse.

Sport and Excursion, builds character

Groups of students dressed in different colors marched forward in orderly formations. The drum beats were infusing euphoria all across. It was the inaugural of Sports week in Puri HS Govt School. "It happens no where here Sir, but I do it every year by myself. Sport builds character", said the proud Principal.

She offered those vanilla chocolates to every one in the staff room, proudly sharing her escapades during a recent trip abroad. She teaches English and simultaneously works for her doctoral thesis. She was recently selected for a study tour to UK based on her exemplary work. "It's an entirely different world out there. Now everyday I tell these kids stories from UK to inspire them, so that they start aspiring for more.Excursion builds character", said the talented teacher.

With such wonderful principals and teachers, we can do wonders in education. More power to them! 

The Cloud

One could see the entire spread of Garo hills from up there, a partially dilapidated watch tower on Tura Peak. The whimsical sunshine showing the love in certain pockets. The rest darkened in melancholy. The confluence, a lugubrious yet charming affair.

The panorama wasn't vanilla. At a distance, a bunch of Gibbons provided the much needed background score. Ah, the orchestra of mother nature. And just when you are on the verge of a picturesque deluge, a cloud passes through the tower. It embraces you. Engulfs you. If only you could dissolve into it, and move on.

Simply be there

"I want to do graduation in Arts and study further but my parents want me to become a doctor. What should I do?", she finally managed to voice her concern. It is a quite a challenge to get students to open up in these rural areas. They have become like one-way receivers of data. I profusely emphasized on the relevance of communication during the talk. Some more students opened up on how their parents had divergent views about career.

It's sad to see that parents still see children as a mode of realizing their own unrequited ambitions. Let the child find her\his own El Dorado. Simply be there, for the support. "Perhaps we need a counselling session for all your parents too!", I concluded. A wave of laughter broke out in affirmation.

You deserve the moon

Her eyes delightfully vibrant,
always searching something.
Her smile, enchanting,
elixir for everything.

A reflection, she was,
of her mother.
Little bundle of joy,
meant the world, to me.


She was 2, when she left,
tumor, they said.
We fought, we cried, we prayed.
Alas, fragile mortality won.

At the funeral, I stood frozen,
her little bracelet in my hand.
They lowered her, into the soil,
Our tears, went along.

It was her precious,
that white bracelet.
But I couldn't let go.
She deserved better.

For years, kept it close,
or perhaps, it kept me going,
can't really tell.
Eve of Apollo 11, they asked,
What would I take there?
I had always known.

Giant step for mankind,
truly magical moment.
I looked at the Earth,
where my girl rested.
I lowered that bracelet,
into a crater, O'my love,
you deserve the moon.


[It is believed that when Neil Armstrong went to the moon, he carried a bracelet of his daughter and left it there. She had died at a very young age. The whole episode had left an eternal vacuum in his life. The same has been portrayed excellently in the movie First Man. Yours truly was touched by the rendition]