Vagrant Meander

The Myth of Hastinapur Author's Note All histories have alternatives. Once the present absorbs a significant event, it is penned down by the ones who survive it. But with time, alternative theories appear, debating and discussing what would have hap pe ned in a new light. Mahabharata, an ancient tale, has survived epochs and fascinated generations. It is a tale of powerful men and women and how they fared against each other. Few heroes who faltered at critical junctures while there are villains who stood firm against the test of their characters. There are queens who knowingly or unknowingly manipulated their near ones; and kith and kin who betrayed their blood when needed the most. There are soldiers and handmaidens too whose perspectives got lost in this clash of the champions. There is fury, courage, strength, love, penance, Dharma , sacrifice, deceit and malice. Mahabharata has everything which is representative of all ages. This book tries to find reasons behind fact...

'I am smelling of you',  said she,  Lying on the warm bed beside me.  You dread going away embracing her tight,  Curling fingers around her with all your might.  You hold her bosom in the spreading calm,  Your breath grows heavy and your mind goes numb.  She smiles in the dark, her eyes burning bright,  The moments of pleasure slipping into the night.  You open your eyes and she is gone,  The tired face stares at the frosty dawn.  The lonely soul craves for the time that flew,  Attuning to the cold bed and now stale brew. But your heart awakens to words that are true,  'Your smell is mine and mine is you (rs)'. 

Aaj raat phir judenge bikhre sapne, tahako ke beech har koi lagenge apne. Dil ka dard bhulane ki nakaam koshish mein, do ghoont aur peene ki purani saazish mein, Raat waqt ko kheench kar bithana chahegi, apne roop par rang par ithlana chahegi. Par savere ko kaun rok paaya hai, Jab har baar dil ka dard dimag par chad aaya hai, Par agli raat kaun si zaada door hai, Ujale ke guroor se badhkar hamara suroor hai. Phir se hongi nakaam koshishen aur purani saazishen, Phir se raat apne roop par ithlayegi, Aur poore Lucknow ko batayegi, ki 'aaj mere ghar shukla phir se aaya hai, Aur apne saath ek aur shukla laaya hai.' Jungi chuchap side me baitha chane khayega, aur apne dil ki baat kisi ko na batayega, ghar jayega aur so jayega. Aur in darual ke beech ek bujurg saans roke baitha hai, sar sapat, chehre par shikan aur haath me chalakta jam liye aitha hai, soch raha hai ki bas raat ko ab jaane dete hai, aur gharwalo ko ab chain se ...

Close to the city of Paithan, in a small village called Sauviragram, which lay along the banks of the great river Godavari, lived a woman named Ilaa. Being cotton farmers, her family was well to do, but not among the richest in their area. It was the harvest season and cotton had to be picked from the plants. The wholesalers and traders from Paithan would be arriving in just a few weeks carrying gold and goods for barter. They would exchange what they carried for the cotton that the farmers grew. The bales of cotton had to be ready in time! Work was at its peak! But Ilaa was not to be found in the fields. She wasn't working. Instead, she was sitting by the banks of the great river Godavari. “I am sick of this!” she grunted loudly. The sun glowed on her face which had turned crimson with anger. With fists clenched tightly, she sat looking straight at the sun. Her body was burning inside. Even the calm waters of Godavari were not enough to ease her pain. Her father had been...

बचपन में हमारे यहाँ सेब के बाग होते थे. बड़े-बड़े लाल-लाल सेब पेड़ों से झूला करते थे. आमदनी भी ठीक-ठाक हो जाती थी. खैर अब तो हमारे और गाँव के बाकी बाग-बगीचे गायब हो चुके है. वहां पर मॉल, प्राइवेट स्कूल, हॉस्पिटल, फ्लैट और ना जाने क्या-क्या बन गया है. और आस-पास की दुकानों में फुटफॉल भी बड़ा तगड़ा है. दुनिआ के मानक के हिसाब से काफी 'विकास' हो चूका है. लोग बर्गर, कॉफ़ी उड़ा रहे हैं; नए फैशन के कपड़े पहन रहे हैं; चमचमाती गाड़ियों में सरर् से सड़कों पर दौड़ रहे हैं. बचपन में जब पेड़ों पर फल आने लगते तो तोतों का कहर भी साथ लाते थे. मेरा पूरा परिवार पंछियों से सेबों को बचाने में लगा रहता. लम्बी-लम्बी लग्गियों से तोतों को भागते लेकिन तोते भी गजब बेशरम, जितना भगाओ उतनी बार वापस, आधे फल खाते थे, आधे गिराते थे जो मंडी में आधे दामों में बिकते. मैं अधखाए फलों को देखता था तो तोतों पर गुस्सा आती थी. अरे! एक सेब पूरा खा जाते, उसके एवज में पांच ख़राब करने की क्या ज़रूरत थी. खैर ये तो हर साल का सिलसिला था. सारे फल टूटने के बाद तोते भी कहीं गायब हो जाया करते थे. बगीचे के बीचों-बीच एक पेड़ ऐसा था जिसके सेब...

‘Confess your crime!’ Mahesh bellowed. Samaira was at home after finishing her school for the day. After changing her clothes, she went inside the kitchen and took the food out from the fridge which her mother, Natasha had kept. She heated it on the stove as mother had taught her. After finishing her lunch, she opened the upper cabinet in the kitchen to take a glass out. She raised herself up on her toes trying to take a glass out but her hands brushed against a mug her father had bought from of his foreign trips and it fell down with a crash. Afraid of the implications, she quickly collected the pieces using a plastic shovel and tied them in polythene which she threw outside the house. Later, she went inside her room. She was enjoying her afternoon siesta when her father came in. He asked if she had broken something in the kitchen. Afraid, she lied. But Mahesh, shuffling nervously on his feet, kept on probing her wanting her to confess. A blunt heavy hand landed on her cheek...