Writing Fiction.....................................

 ............ from inside pages of my book, (yet to be titled).

*        The pines, some greener and softer than others, and one taller than the next, vying for visitors' attention stood resigned to the fact that the holy mountains grabbed all the attention. But they drew comfort from the fact that once a while a few leisure travellers would walk in their midst and sit under their shadow, a writer would gaze at them for hours appreciating their individual and collective beauty; children would pluck their leaves and brush them against their tender cheeks and feel them between their palms. 

Train to Tinsukia !

Vinayak Gadgil arrived rather early at Guwahati railway station and he was disappointed to learn that the train to Tinsukia, the farthest town connected by rail in Assam, was running an hour late. There was little he could do. So he picked up the latest novel of John Grisham and sat on a chair in the waiting room. Reaching a place early had been his habit he had acquired since his training days in the Officers’ Training Academy (OTA) at Chennai in south India to avoid those extra duty punishments, which he hated so badly.

          How and why did he join the army when he wasn’t interested in a career in uniform? He had his story. His grandfather, a colonel, had served both in the British and later in the Indian armies, and had fought all three wars with Pakistan. His father, a major, had died on the icy heights of Siachen Glacier foiling the enemy’s attempt to overrun the important post of Bila Fondla on the Soltoro Ranges. He was barely ten years old when he was told that his father had laid down his life fighting for the country in the best traditions of the Dogra Regiment. Those high sounding words of valour and sacrifice had meant little to his juvenile mind. What he understood, though, was that his dotting father would be no more around to play cricket with him and pamper him with ice creams.

          His father’s loss had meant different things to different people, he had learnt later. To his mother it had meant a long and lonely life without the assuring embrace of her loving husband. To his grandfather the loss had been profound more in professional terms. The old man always nourished the dream that his son one day would rise to the rank of a brigadier and command an infantry brigade, his own unfulfilled ambition.

.........(for complete story go to short stories section).............

Michael's House

One often doesn’t get what one wants in life. Sridhar knew and understood that saying well and therefore he never complained about the raw deal he often got in his job. Though initially he used to grumble a lot, he had given it up soon realizing its futility. And he was happy since the moment he had acquired a positive attitude towards his job and life as a whole.

     His job as a reporter with a reputed news channel was challenging and most importantly, well paying, which had taken care of his financial insecurities. With hardly any worries he had begun enjoying his work, which took to him to places he had never been to or ever dreamt about them in his life. He was often sent on difficult assignments, which other reporters normally avoided. 

       And so when he was asked to report on a Mizo tribe, which called itself one of the lost tribes of the Jews and wished to migrate to their promised land in Israel, he readily accepted the task. For a moment though he too was surprised to learn that such a tribe existed in India, which claimed its antecedent to Jews. As a keen student of history he was hardly able to contain his excitement to find more about them and see some of them in person.  And in his enthusiasm he had glossed over the fact he was being asked to undertake the arduous journey in the northeastern India during the rainy season when everything from the flights to the road journey became uncertain due to the vagaries of the nature.

    (for complete story please go to story section)..........

Rani Gaidinliu.....................India's Unsung Hero.

* Gaidinliu was born on 26 January 1915 at Longkao village in the present Tousem Sub-division of Tamenglong district in Manipur. She was the fifth of eight children, six sisters and a younger brother. The family belonged to the ruling clan of the village. She did not have a formal education due to the lack of schools in the area. 

* In 1927 at the age of 13, she joined the Heraka movement that aimed to end the British rule and establish the self-rule of the Nagas. It attracted a number of followers from the several Naga tribes. With the arrival of guns from Cachar, it turned into an armed rebellion against the British policies of forced labour and ruthless oppression. In three years by the age of 16, she became a leader of Guerrilla forces fighting against the British rulers. 

* In October 1932, Gaidinliu moved to the Pulomi village, where her followers started building a wooden fortress. While the fortress was under construction, an Assam Rifles contingent headed by Captain MacDonald launched a surprise attack on the village on 17 October 1932. She along with her followers was arrested without any resistance near Kenoma village. She denied that she had any role in the attack on the Hangrum post of the Assam Rifles or the construction of the fort. She was convicted on the charges of murder. She was sentenced to life imprisonment. Most of her associates were either executed or jailed. Nehru met her at the Shillong Jail in 1937, and promised to pursue her release. He gave her the title of ‘Queen’. 

* In 1946, Rani Gaidinliu was released on Nehru's orders from Tura jail, having spent 14 years in various prisons. She continued to work for the upliftment of her people after release. She stayed at Vimrap village of Tuensang till 1952 after which finally moved back to her native village. In 1953, Prime Minister Nehru visited Imphal where Rani Gaidinliu met and conveyed to him the gratitude and goodwill of her people. In 1993, Gaidinliu died on 17 February 1993 at the age of 78. 

* It's indeed a sad tale that people in other parts of country hardly know, or care to know about her.

Honest Politics.............a Pipe dream !

*  The common folks living under the tyranny of 'Democracy' across the world for hundreds of years have been dreaming just one dream; 'Honest Politics' in their countries. Years ago when nations fought the colonialism, dictatorship, autocracy, communism, and other evil forms of governments, the democracy had brought them a ray of hope. 

*     But over the years the democracy has acquired all the evils of other forms of governments, and in some countries it has become worse than the dictatorship. The poor citizens disgusted by the rampant corruption in their nations regularly raise the banner of revolt. Thus are born revolutions.   

*    And out of every revolution emerges the leadership which gives hope of clean and honest politics to millions, but soon after this new leadership assumes power forgets its vows and walks upon the path of its predecessors. 

*    The birth of every revolution gives a new hope to people and its culmination results in a new political dispensation, which also betrays the hopes and aspirations of millions who are left to dream again. 

*     Thus the cycle of hope and betrayal continues............