Saturday, September 4, 2010


This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 14; the fourteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.


Return me those days....

When I used to think that Amitabh Bachchan, Chiranjeevi and Kapil Dev were the only real heroes in this world

When running meant bowling and nothing else.

When i used to lick the walls after smelling the first rains

When having an one rupee coin in my pocket means frolic

When switching on a light in a dark room was the scariest thing

When calves were the best friends to share my child talk

When devotion was only meant from prasadam

When every waste object was part of my play in summer 

When mirrors had never passed judgement on my looks 

When the meaning of success was just taking a wicket

When brands were only for advertisements 

When power cuts never hampered my play 

When existence of God was an absolute truth 

When every bun bought by my mama was the most childiciously special than my earned-branded food now 

When the meaning of love was void of lust

When I used to believe completely that, one fine day, Sri Netaji Subash Chandra Bose ji  would be back 

When pride meant, only, saluting the tri colour  
When i used to sing my own lyrics for every popular song without any shy 

When i used to believe that there would exist a woman called "Bharathmaata"

When pissing meant making different parabolas 

When wounded knees and elbows were the art of tattooing

When every English movie was  a complete "Cheeeeeeeeeee......"

When playing with bricks in the sand was the most innovative game

When the bus i was traveling should pass over all the lorries on the road 

When the most depressive thing would be returning home from my grandmother's village after the summer vacation 

When the last period's school bell was the most soothing sound 

When progress card was the only enemy 

When "Mile sur mera tumhara"  was the best video 

When crying meant depleting the last atom of water from my eyes 

But I came to know the value of return when i read something about my grand father in my grand mother's diary .....

During 1965 war...

"Mom, where has dad gone? Why he hasn't come yet?"
a four year old boy asked her mom once again
She patted his head slightly
while listening to the radio news 
Shadow movements of airplane wings in her eyes
Imprints of artillery sounds were blasting in her heart
In the thick black fog at Kashmir borders
A soldier standing boldly with nerve
stood in front of her eyes

She bothered - Sighed - adjusted her pallu
In between the elegant curve of pride blended with her lip's smile
After standing up from the park bench and supporting her son
She walked slowly and embarked into the darkness

She came to the park, daily, for the radio news
clad in white saree and red sindhoor
with Jasmine flowers in her plaited black hair
Same park, same road, same bazaar, same home
but still she sensed some change with gumption
Everyone was roaming and listening in the park
but still, somewhere, something was wrong

Some news murmurs passed through the nerves of tightly held cities
Blooded pledges were slipping through the gaps of clenched fists
One Movement, one Motility, one Determination---
Symbols of Mercy were awakening gradually

If one nation prefers to move in its own way
The 20th century's civilization will not let it to
Neighbor's goodness provokes the arrogance of wicked people
Neighbor prosperity evokes the hiss of evil heads
Those were the bad moments for Asian blood
History's head was hanging with shyness

They had buried democracy and public voice
Dacoits turned into Dictators
Thats why they couldn't digest India's rise
They would gain nothing with political diplomacy

If we preferred calmness , they called us cat
If we fought back , they called us Tiger
Foul smell diffuses if opportunists open their mouth
leave morals, it becomes politics
hatch a nation with religion, it becomes a wagging mad Monkey
Mutual friendship of Pak and China
it was like bonding between a snake and a wolf
It was not a war between two nations
It was not a war for a piece of land
It was an attempt to protect the values required for the world's future
for independence of thought and individual respect
Freedom from race, colour, caste, creed, region and religion was it's foundation

Every indian was a soldier, every heart was a canon
Radio was delivering the news daily
presenting the voice of victory
Tanks and planes of enemies were being crashed down
the brave and sturdy wave of  Indian army
thrashed them away unto the borders of Lahore

Our nation stood roaring with thunders
Narsappa, Vincent, Afzal, Pratap Singh
and many more anonymous soldiers
were being paid respects and honours by the living blood

She came to the park with her son on that day also
She worn white saree but with out red sindhoor
with out Jasmine flowers in her plaited black hair, no bangles in hand
There was huge rain being stopped at the corners of her eyes
She was pressing the much moving lower lip, under her teeth, very hardly
The canons might have stopped at boders, but not in her heart.
A group in the park were sloganeering, "Jai Hind"

"Mom, where has dad gone? Why he hasn't come yet?"
She hugged her son and his unanswered questions, and
with shivering voice she said deeply, "Jai Hind"
And that word was heard by a warrior in Heaven who would never return

When I turned the next page in the diary, there was a newspaper clipping and the print goes...

Reality at Borders...

It is like dying death for everyone
There is a body, an unfortunate body,
It is lying exactly on the border line
Being soaked and baked in snow, it lost it's identity
The buried uniform in snow
torn by the foxes
Then who's this body?

It is a Soldier's body
Which Soldier?
Democratic soldier? or Socialist camp ?
or Imperialist ?
His wife will definitely recognize him
But how to recognise his wife?
How to bid him?
By which nation's slogans
By which army's conventions
Burial or with Fire? Which Religion?

There is one way
Bring all the crying widows from all the countries
Arrange an identification parade

There is nothing to worry
Stop bothering about the body,
whether it will be soaked again by the tears of the widows
leave doubts,  we have seen floods of blood
After all, it is just rainfall from eyes
Arrange barrels for their tears...
and, make those widows to stand in a line
Sir, what if he is a Bachelor?
Then, it will be really a dying death
in fact, a never returning death.
Sir, what if he is an Orphan?
Then, return is a void .

PS : Thanks to Rachana for her strategic input to this post . I wish she could have co-authored this post

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.


Gyanban said...

Well quite impressive I must say, you took me back so many years.Very well presented.

Rachana Shakyawar said...

BOW to U

Simple loved the whole series of story reflecting different time zones...and perhaps the true real picture from the proud History pages of India!

Not everytime i ponder upon such issues yet..only reading such prose I realise...that back in my head and deep core of my heart I do Value the kind-hard efforts made by numerous great souls selflessly...well that when i say this..i realise I want to say...I not only respect the Soldier or just a freedom fighter...but THEIR whole-family for being hopeful and equally strong enough to dare and act willingly to match music of every footstep silently!

What else...1965 war!
Perhaps..I know what does it looks like..I have been to the borders of China and India...have seen live army...old bunkers, many sacred remains and visible strategy the Indian army created. The aftermath of 1965war was truly devasting n moving..and your story hold the emotions so well!!

U sure
~ Keep the Spark ALive..

Anonymous said...

It is like a time machine which take us back to many different parts of the past :D Simply amazing!=P

Amity said...

This sure is one poignant rendition!

Reminiscing the past about awaiting someone's return which will remain a sad wish?

This is one very good take Mahesh!

All the best! :)

Siddhesh 'Ravan' Kabe said...

When power cuts never hampered my play

When existence of God was an absolute truth

You mean you want beyond time. :P Kiddin'

the post was mast, you dragged us out into time and the journey was nice!!!

Someone Is Special said...

Lovely compilation Mahesh.. Awesome, Amazing... Loved your thoughts behind it.. 1965 war or the return or the relity at Borders.. Superb one..

--Someone Is Special--

Dreamer said...

Lovely! Was literally transported through several eras of time. And I too often think of a time when mile sure mera tumhara was the best video :).

magiceye said...

beautifully done....

sushobhan roy said...

Very poignant indeed ..:)

Every word carries a lot of emotions behind its back.. Awesome stuff .. :)

Brijender Singh said...

Mahesh,its always a pleasure to read ur writings.
N you have outdone urself this time.
The limpid nostalgia contrasts beautifully with the harsh realities of life in general and war in particular.
Thanks for the trip down alleys we had left behind but never forgotten.

BK Chowla, said...


The Fool said...

Very interesting and thought provoking like all your posts.

Samadrita said...

In very few words this post could be described as a return to our every meaning of the term.
Sometimes even I wish I could back to the good old days of childhood and re-discover the lost innocence and simplicity.
All the best for BAT!

Jaspreet said...

Hey Mahesh, you were right that our take on the topic is similar(childhood) but your post is just too amazing and thought provoking-I actually went back in time reminiscing the childhood and I actually relate to almost everything you've mentioned in your post.
All the best!

Ms.Meduri said...

a tear in my eyes says it all..the best post i read till now..!!

Mahesh..chaala baga rasavu.!!!

Cherry Blossom said...

Well blended story, a perfect retrospective of the past, very similar to every Indian individual, a childhood lost cannot be got back, time lost cannot come back, but memories of the same lingers in our mind and makes life so meaningful. Every man is a child and every child is curious with so many queries about worldly matters. A war has no meaning in a child's world, a child knows only to love, and be loved and even as a grown -up, expects similar emotions from a partner, cant bear the circumstances to be rejected, to be ridiculed. Memories bring forth expectations, but practicality scatters blood. One should reconcile with the changing times.
Very impressive and worthy of claiming voting attention,including mine. All the best.

Anonymous said...

Very interesting and very impressively written :D
Hats off to your thoughtful presentation and brilliant work of imagination :)


Anonymous said...

Vell Vritten Mahesh :)
Had a nice feeling to be taken back in time, cuz almost all of the content probably came before the year of my birth!
Enjoyed it !

Md. Muddassir Shah said...

nice job.
Loved reading it

Lost in thoughts said...

Well written - All the best for BAT14

Sidra Sayeed said...

I'm having a hard time comprehending my logic and emotions. It is difficult to recuperate. It goes without saying that the post is an excellent contribution to BAT.
The plight of a wailing heart is hard to describe, very hard indeed.

Kshitij said...


You've shown multiple faces of the same thing. Really liked it Mahesh. This is the second time I am coming and enjoyed just like my first.

Now, the question is - what did I read earlier. Well, I was also doing a Non-Human Love Story in the Super 6 of BPL. And I clearly remember telling my fried that I wouldnt get that round because I rated your post much higher than mine...
...and eventually, someone else got it (Sudhi).

So - this is my opportunity to tell you that I relly liked that post of yourse. I love it when people create concepts... and you did it.

I also get this feeling you like cricket a lot.. shake hands on that :)

Good job and good luck for BAT Mahesh.

Raksha Raman said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Raksha Raman said...

Hello Mahesh,

Your post here is one hulluva time machine of sorts! Transported me back in time! Those lovely days! Sigh!

It further took me back to the 'war zone' and its grim set up.

Moving on the bit about the soldiers makes a good read considering the fact that you've handled the emotions carefully.

Cheers! ATB with BAT!

Dil se said...

And I was not wrong when yours was one post I wanted to read for this BAT.
Lovely creation. you created so many different faces of the same theme, as it applies to different people in different situations.
Absolutely loved it.

Mahesh Kalaal said...

PS : I am keeping my responses short as i am with fever now!

@ Gyanban,
Thanks a lot dude :)

@ Rachana,
Hey buddy, you know very well that without you this post couldn't have took this shape and comprehensiveness. You have credit in every compliment i receive.
Thanks a lot for your support and pat :)

Thanks buddy :
welcome to wisdomism

@ Amity,
Thansk for the pat buddy :)

@ Sid,
Thanks a bunch dude :)

@ Someone,
Thanks, thanks , thanks, thanks :)

@ Dreamer ,
Thanks a lot for the response,
keep dropping by :)

@ Magiceye,
Thanks :)

@ Sushoban,
Thanks for appreciation and the pat :)

@ Brijender ,
I do feel elated and humbled by ur words which make me more responsible .
Yes, this is one of the best compliments i have received for my writing.
Thanks a bunch for your encouragement and feedback.
keep dropping by buddy :)

@ Chowla ji,
Thanks a lot , sir :)

@ Fool,
Thanks a lot buddy :)

@ Samadrita,
Thanks a lot for your response
keep dropping by :)
I hope u have read the war parts too :)

Mahesh Kalaal said...

@ Jaspreet,
Thanks a lot for your encouraging and honest compliment...
Keep dropping by buddy :)

@ Meduri,
mee comment chadivaaka chaala thrupthi ga undi ...
idi naa posts best responses lo okati ...
veelainappudu visit chesthu undandi..
thanks andi :)

Mahesh Kalaal said...

@ Cherry,
It always impresses me the way re-frame the topic's gist in such an compact manner.
Thanks a lot for ur wonderful and comprehensive feedback..
keep coming your rational and wise analysis and synthesis :)
thanks for the pat :)

@ dialoguewithyou ,
Thanks a bunch for ur appreciation and the encouraging words :)
keep dropping by :)

@ Kevin,
am really gals that my post did connect u,
thanks a lot for the pat :)

@ Shah,
Thanks dude :)
welcome to wisdomism :)

@ Lost in thoughts
Thanks dude
keep dropping by
welcome to wisdomism :)

Mahesh Kalaal said...

@ Sidra,
am really wordless by ur touching response and i take it as one of the best compliment to this post and as a tribute to those brave soldiers :)
Thanks a lot for your heart felt and honest response :)
thanks a lot for the appreciation and the pat :)
Keep dropping by :)

@ kshitji,
and am totally elated now,
coz i get excited whenever i meet persons with brutal honesty and you are one of them.
Now a days, very few persons can appreciate other's works and that too in creative field, it is very rare.
Bow to you, for appreciating both of my works (my non human love story is very close to me), and of course, sudhi did really well in that series.
And i do tale ur complement with heart and will try to come up with more conceptual posts.
Thanks a lot for ur encouragement and support
Keep dropping by :)
thanks a bunch again

Mahesh Kalaal said...

@ Raksha raman,
Thanks a lot for your response and the encouraging pat :)
keep dropping by buddy :)

@ Dil se,
thanks a bunch for your truly and heart felt dil se feedback with appreciation :)
Thanks for your pat :)
welcome to wisdomism :)
keep dropping by :)

Karthik said...

A patriotic fervour! Excellent post, dude.
The innocence of the child shown in the first section, then the repercussions of war in the following sections - all are thought provoking.
Good job.

Sweta said...

Mughe yaad aati hai... bachpan ki yaade.......... :)

Shilpa Garg said...

Simply awesome, Mahesh!
All the very best for BAT.
Cheers :)