Magical Mangoes...

God holds my my hands...

Jitu’s composition (Story, a part from the ‘Golden Years’)
Friends it’s invariably difficult to admit wrongfulness in us. Even if we feature ill-timed, premature and wrong habits, we oft to say, I am not habitual to it, I can discontinue it at whatever time but simply we don’t. Fifty-fifty we enjoy to excess wrongfulness. More or less a divine guidance helps to improve the apparent individual nature but consider right and proper to admit the existence and truth of our errors.
A story is here back from my life history at what time I watched a picture show in which the role player was the patient of incurable Lung cancer. He was a guest and nothing more to 3 months. He as well spent rest of his life with elite of others, also guests of few months. At that place he came in close interaction with a young boy. The young boy use to narrate him mirthful comical stories.
Once when that man gets a cancer stroke and fainted. On the very next dayspring he found himself underneath the bed of that boy. That boy offered him few pieces of mango. He ate all at a sudden. He harked back to his room and lit a cigarette to touch with the lips and pressed against length of body as an expression of love but that made his taste bitter. Even a share of puff didn’t go inside. He had become smoke free. That was the grace of God, wizard of those Magical Mangoes and a gift from the life.
All we are having the magic inside of us. All we can discontinue our bad habits. We need to induce a purpose to live this life. We must not think where we came from and to where we go. We must do, why we are here for.
Smoking kills, discontinue today...

"""When I met to a girl in a temple"""

(Story- A part from the Golden Years)

Once on the eve of Deepawali we planned to meet in temple. I was conceiving her in a pure unadulterated Indian dress, in Sari or in lehanga or at least in Patiala Suit. I was waiting for her from more than an hour not because she arrived after the expected or usual time but I stretched out early by an hour. She came on time and reacted,
’’ You have been waiting for a long time’’.
’’ No, I came just as you are…’’ I pretend with intent to deceive.
Nothing happened as I had conceived. She slew of my expectations. She dressed a typical low waist twilled cotton Capri and a top, which was leaving her neck, shoulders and part of breast, exposed.
’’Why are you in rags”? I asked with not much anger in my words.
Akansha- “What you have in mind… These are not rags”
“At least on this occasion you should be dressed like an Indian woman, like sari and all…’’. I said in a certain way to palpate her mind-set.
Akansha- ’’Sari, Lehenga and other similar kind are very uncomfortable in possession…’’.
I sensed youth don’t feel concern for distinctive cultural limitations. People in general firstly look upon for comfort and freedom. All people hold the right of freedom and we ought to value of them but what about our civilization and its limitations? Comfort doesn’t entail the state of being vulnerable or exposed. Characteristic of a lack of maturity is similar to a small immature sparrow on the windowsill not yet having developed feathers.
“At least for once put on a similar garment in order to see whether it looks nice”. I encouraged especially.
Akansha- “My parents don’t have problem… You please don’t be confronted with”? She reacted negatively to everything I say
“I was just bespeaking…”
“Sorry but I can’t” She enlarged more than normal degree.
After her stout refusal to Indian apparels I didn’t argue a lot so that, it could enrage her on me and take away to harsh me constantly. I loved her a lot in the way she was.
I didn’t took off anything even a single moment for want of being with her. Be it devout supplications in temples or assembly pray in school or a birthday party of her friend. Some more things with whom I fell in love were Campaigning, propaganda, etc all these were awesome junctures for me to take with her. Plantation during Green festival, preparation for cultural activities, cleanness, camping, and consciousness programs on Polio, Plastics, AIDS, etc, we walked together.
Jitendra...

Perminder tera baap hamari daru pi gya...

Friends here is an expression consisting of one or more incidences back from my college life forming my ‘Golden Years’. 
Me, Shitiz and Parit were the best buddies in college. The same connection I found among we three was boozing, smoking and all we three had the crush on the same young woman named ‘Perminder’.
Perminder was the most beautiful girl of our class. Her red chicks were like the roses wet with dew. None of us ever dare to pop the question her because her father was in Delhi police. So we decided to concentrate only on boozing and smoking.
Once on 31st Dec morning time Me, Shitiz and Parit were going to the college together. That was a shiny Wednesday. Across the distance between our hostel and college there was a ‘Wine and Beer shop’.
Shitiz- “Bhai kal new year ha, kal se daru aur sutta band.”
“Han sahi keh rha ha tu sab band.” I went along.
Parit- “Aaj hi sari buraiya khatam kar dete hain.”
Shitiz- “Bro 1 last time yar, kal se paka sab band.”
The best an artifact among we three was we never abnegated each other through hard times. We always prized and appreciated feelings of one another. Truly saying early that morning I was in no mood of taking alcohol but...
We bought a Khamba (Full) of ‘Old Monk’ rum and took a turn right from our college towards ‘Ranhaulla’. There we were crossing the railway line to progress towards lull jungle. But near to the railway crossing two policemen enquired about our sphere of activity.
Policeman- “Re sacool k choro yaha k karan lagge ho?”
Parit- “Oh ji daaru kharid kar aa rhe hain.”
How idiotic he was. Stupid, relative of King Harishchandra.
Policeman- “Public place me daaru pibega tu, criminal offence ha, karu andar.”
Parit- “Sirji hum to 31st manane jar he the, aap bhi mana lo hamare sath 31st.”
I must say, they (policemen) were waiting for Bakra and they find us, but what we could do, we didn’t have any other option. Out of two possibilities either few a shots of our own Rum or nothing, we choose to enjoy the 31st with policemen.
They took us to a ‘Dhaba’ and we ordered there for boiled eggs. The dhabawala served us with three disposable glasses and two big steel glasses for policemen. One policeman unsealed the bottle and made our drinks. While his doing my mind was measuring the depth of those two big steel glasses. When he made their drink, these two steel glasses swallowed the entire volume of the ‘Old Monk’. We were lamenting of our ‘Old Monk’ while they were toping steels after steel.
We could do nothing but we are the engineers. We had to proof our intelligence to those cops so we decided that we wouldn’t pay for the eggs.
We moved out to remove ourselves from an association without participation. We had anger in our hearts and state of war in our mind. We neither had wine in our bags nor money in pockets. We turned towards our college because ‘SUBAH KA BHULA SHAM KO GHAR LAUT AAYE TO USE BHULA NAHI KEHTE’. We entered in the class and shouted Perminder tera baap hamari daru pi gya...
Jitendra...

ये सुबह मुझे याद दिलाती है...

ये सुबह मुझे याद दिलाती है मेरे सपनों को जीने की,

ये किरने मुझसे बात करती हैं अंधेरे के साथ लड़ने की,

ये हवा मुझे सुनाती है गीत- तु भी उड़ चल संग मेरे!

ये दिशाये मुझे दिखाती हैं आईना, करले खुद के होने का यकीन,

ये फिजाये कहती हैं के है मुमकिन तेरी सपनो की दुनिया भी,

ये ऋतुऐ करती हैं वादा के तेरे आँसू भी देंगे आज तेरे होठों को मुस्कान,

ये पक्षि  कहते हैं मुझसे खुले आकाश के नीचे,

हर लम्हा कह रहा है के आज देखेगी दुनिया तेरी हिम्मत की उड़ान!

 जितेंद्र!

Thak gya hun daudte-daudte

Thak gya hun daudte-daudte, 
ab ek saans fursat se lene ka dil karta hai,


Ye kirne chubhti hain aankho ko meri, 
ab andhere me sone ka dil karta hai,


Ungliyo pe hi ginte rha me dino ko aate jate 
aur na jane kab barso nikal gaye,


Ab har ek lamhe ka hisaab karne ka dil karta 
hai,


Jo sapne pure hue nhi, unke liye ek jindgi aur jine ka dil 
karta hai,


Jitu's composition..

तुम बुरे नहीं हो मेरे बेटे...

Jitu’s composition (Story- A part from the ‘Golden Years’)...
Few a moments comes in the life when we think this life is no more than a scrap. Such a phrase back from my life is here when someone broke up with me. I can’t tell you in words how it feels like when someone very close to you goes away without a reason. All the time nothing but a question betrays in mind, Is I am wrong? I felt all my strivings and painses of being a gentleman, downfall into drain. I sensed myself bleak, incapacitated handicap. I express a wish for assassination of human beings; I express a wish for foreordination of Mayans to be come true. I waited for 21/12/2012 egoistically to see the death of creation, to see the death of macrocosm. But I forgot that He is the supernatural being conceived as the perfect and omnipotent and omniscient originator and ruler of the universe. Nothing happened on 21/12/2012.
When I failed to overcome the situation and found myself ineffectual in fighting with the sites, I went to my Mom. I emptied all my ails, pains and troubles in front of Mom. I said,”It’s very difficult for me to forget her; it’s very difficult for me to turn around. I am very bad mom. Tell me mom what I do?”
माँ - “मुश्किल काम करने के साथ शुरू करो, तुम सबसे अच्छे हो सोचना शुरू करो. तुम बुरे नहीं हो मेरे बेटे...
जितेंद्र!