Charles II by Christopher Falkus

One of the finest biography. Hard to imagine a boy, crown prince of England, feeling helpless about his father's execution by Parliament, yet fights back to rule England.

After every chapter, feeling to not be one of those who give up in the face of adversities grows very strong. A must read.

New year at Raipur

I had amazing time. First day with Imtiyaz and a lady! She turned out to be one of my classmates in engineering college. Age has different effect on each one of us. I probably lost some memory. Could not recognize Rajlaxmi.

Amongst friends I met were Anand Dubey, Lunic Yadu, Manmath Sharma, Rajendra Shukla, Mahindra Golecha and Shanti Baradia. Anand, Manmath and I have been classmate from pre-school.  

Shekhar Sen turns 50 on 16 Feb

Every time, I meet my this naughty childhood friend, memory goes back to first time I met. Thin, short and indomitable. Innocent looks were damn deceptive. Anurag was his name. A good singer, definately the best in St Paul's School at Raipur.

I was however, more impressed by his acting. When caught by Principal, you could instantly bring tears and a story that would often get him to class without a warning. Entire history class he would narrate me Ranu's latest novel, looking straight at the teacher. His jokes, very original, always brought instant smile, yet when teacher asked for explanation, innocent face oozing sincerity could save him but not me!

We were good at bunking class. He would have some original ideas to do so. Then I would paddle him around on bicycle while he would mimic all teachers, and our most favourite, the principal Mrs Chaudhari. I do not recall him ever sad or emotional except when he was acting.

We remained good friend. I saw him growing to a great singer, actor, writer, director and now painter. The goodness in him remained same. He is full of joy and life and friendship.

And, yes, I have never seen sad ever thought our 44 years of friendship. His journey from Anurag to Shekhar Sen had many challenges that some times scared me, but for someone as crazy as Anurag, nothing can stop him from fulfilling his dreams.....

Very few are as lucky as I am, 44 years of golden moments, full of fun. Deep down in my heart I am consciously aware that, his oft repeated sentence " Naukari mein no curry - Jobs are without curry" may have influence my own course of life. I don't know how many more lives he may have changed/influenced but I am certain that through Kabir, Tulsi, Vivekanand and Saheb - he changed course of theatre, artists and reminded many of us how to lead a simple and good life!

The Wining Game- Successful Enterprises

The quest to create or join winning game is insatiable. Conflict to create own or join other's game is natural. For, when we enter other's game, the rules may well be set. The players have their position consolidated with the beginning of the game. Non conformists do not easily survive. This leaves very little space for (non-conformists) for person with different/crazy ideas.

The intensity to do something new, innovative, challenging and different breeds entrepreneurship.  Of course, the scientists too are very different. A very rare breed that can do their own things even in a set establishment.

Entrepreneurs enjoy creativity in their own way. They create game. They choose team. They are risk takers. They are essentially creators of  winning games.

The End Game

Often, I have been asked, "What is your end game'. Every time I struggled for a very correct answer. We like to give smart answers than the truth. It is easy. It creates instant impression. Truth could be boring. It ends quickly.

Honestly, I never understood meaning of end game. I think, so long we are alive, the game is on. There is no end game. There is always the last game. A game you are playing just before the death.

We play because that's what we like to do. Some play piano and some on canvas for hours with colors. Entrepreneurship is also a game. It is more like a team game. Like football. We do shift from one game to another. Reasons could be any. Played too many times hence boring. Or, depressing because most players have become better than you. Winning is very integral part of games. If we are not winning or hope to win is  diminishing, we may quit it. Hanging on to loosing game for a long time is surest way to make your psychiatrist rich.

Chapter 7: Introspections

This was one promise I thought was easy to keep. My father has experimented with all kinds of meditations. He concluded that meditation is introspection. Sit in a lonely place, all by yourself, in your own company. Let mind wander. Let it think and dream. Dreams of past. The good, bad and ugly. It triggers series of feelings. Happiness, sorrow, grief, anxiety, depression and often renunciation.

It was initially very difficult. Sitting alone. No one to chat. No one to brag and criticise. Not able to talk is very irritating and in few minutes it becomes intolerable. Kind of frustration sweeps. Legs become restless. "Am I wasting time", echoes lauder with every passing minute. We start missing favourite cafe, joints, office, parties and almost everything. One hour looks almost impossible time to pass, introspecting.



Strange though, after sometime, mind begins it's game with you. It recalls some random happenings followed by very critical analysis of same.


It was a nice winter night and I was on bicycle. My younger brother too was riding bicycle. We were coming back from school and suddenly, I saw my brother bicycle hitting the policeman walking on the road. He was hurt and abusive. My 10 years old brother was terrified. I was profusely apologising. He threatened to put us behind bar. My brother hid behind me. I told policeman that he is my neighbour. Please forgive him. He slapped me and said "why cant you guide him properly". I felt very upset. How can he do that. Getting slapped is more humaliating than hurt, especially if there are witnesses.

On our way back, we were silent. My brother was still trembling. I was trying to comfort him. Suddenly he started laughing and said, "Hey you are slapped not me". He was in mood to tease. "So little fear and you dumped me as brother, neighbour, eh". Many years I had this dream. A policeman beating me for no reason.

When we reached home, my brother told the story and everyone laughed. Just before the dinner my mother said,"Remember he is your brother". Fun was instantly dead and remorse did last for months.

Introspections began with recall. Was I right in telling lie to protect my brother? Was my brother hurt that I called him neighbour? Should we tell lie to protect? What if, I would have said, he is my brother. May be an extra slap....

These questions and answers tired me. I looked at watch. It was over an hour. Well, atlast, I could keep my promise.




 To be continued....