Mere Dost (My Friend)

Mere Dost

Dosti, muhabbat, farz sab
Kaise koi nibhaaye ab?
Pooche jo koi mujhse ye sawaal
Deta hoon main ab tera hi misaal

Dosti nibhaayi hai mujhse
Tumne mujhse kahin jyaada
Karta hoon mai aaj tujhse
Dil par haath rakh ye vaada

Nibhaaunga behtar ye dosti ka farz
Chukaaunga dil ka jo tujhpe hai karz

Seekha hai tumse dosti ka raaz
Rishton ka bandhan, muhabbat ka saaz
Yeh sabhi dil me lekar roz chale ho tum
Nek raaste par jab hum gaye the ghum

Nazron mein tum ek hoor ho
Mere rooh ka suroor ho
Dil ke liye ek noor ho
Agar tumhe manzoor ho
Mere dil se kabhi na door ho
chaahe woh bilkul choor-choor ho

Phir kabhi meri dosti ka haath
Nahin chhodega tumhara saath
Chaahe kuch aur nahin lagte mere
Tu meri dost zaroor ho

 

English Translation:

My Friend

Friendship, love, duty all
How does one carry them through?
If someone asks me this question
Now I just point to you

You have done right by our friendship
A lot more than I have (from the start)
Today I pledge to you
With my hand on my heart

I will do better in my obligations as a friend
And repay my debt to your heart in the end

The secret of friendship I learned from you
The bond of relations, the music of love too
You walked around with them all, in your heart, everyday
On the righteous path when I lost my way

You are an angel in my sight
A pleasure to my soul
For my heart a guiding light
If it is agreeable to you
Never be far from my heart, 'cause it matters
Even if into tiny pieces it shatters

Once again the hand of my friendship
Will not leave your side, till the end
No matter what else you are not to me
You certainly are my friend

Copyright  (c) Kannan Narayanamurthy 2016
All rights reserved 

The Billion Dollar Giveaway - Chapter 6

Sarita sat next to the two temporary receptionists - Ms. Stewart (she was called Gilly) and Mrs. Ramachandran (everyone called her 'Shanta'). The three had read the resumes of candidates who had submitted written answers to the 'trick' question, interview notes and clearly summarized them to present to Billy and Ken.

"Shanta, How many written submissions did we get? How many good?" asked Ken.

"We received thirteen. Seven were good. Two were borderline. One seemed strange and the rest trite."

"Tell me about the strange one first," said Billy.

"Well, the suggestion was to have a treasure hunt of sorts, well publicised, with clear rules, media coverage etc. I could not make out if this was serious or tongue-in-cheek." said Shanta.

"I could not understand many of the local terms he used in this," said Gilly.

Ken and Billy looked towards Sarita.

"I have translated the difficult terms and given them back to Gilly and Shanta. We might need to sit down for a session all, together to really make better sense of it," said Sarita.

"Okay, please do so. We will keep it on the side for now. There might be something worthy in the idea of a general challenge too. Some very good elements to it. It piques my interest," said Billy.

"Well then, let's get to the good ones. Can we have a summary of the idea only? I want to hear the idea first without knowing who it came from,"said Billy.

Sarita picked up a sheet of paper from one of the small piles stacked in front of her. Gilly and Shanta smiled at her happily. They had already prepared exactly such a summary.

Ken and Billy noted this with quiet approval. There were a few others, quiet and not speaking much at all, but taking notes with laptops and many electronic and mechanical devices in front of them. They were the ones who translated Billy and Ken's decisions to actions. Anything they said or promised was noted, appropriately framed and passed on to the unseen vast organisations that Billy and Ken headed.


"The first one is a great practical suggestion - reimbursing certain people or families for actual medical or educational expenses after the fact. That way no one knows that they will be reimbursed for sure. This will certainly make it easier to minimise the chances of collusion or corruption after we have identified who are the deserving ones," read Sarita and paused.

Billy and Ken nodded.

Sarita passed on the sheet of paper to Shanta.

"The second one is an idea that while trying to identify a deserving candidate for the money, we must spend more effort and energy in  getting to know the key people in that candidate's life, who is important to them, who can strongly influence their decisions and moral values in making their decisions. This is obviously from a person who has an understanding of human psychology. They say that there many be many kinds of worthy causes and people worth supporting or helping." read Shanta.

Billy and Ken again nodded

"The third approach is suggested is one of helping startup businesses by locals and supporting innovative business ideas. It is suggested that if done right, this will have a higher multiplication effect," Shanta read. She then passed on the sheet to Gilly.

"There are two suggestions for some kind of infrastructure projects. One for a road, another for a sewerage system in a remote part of the country," Gilly read. She passed back the sheet to Sarita.

"There is a suggestion for a permanent food and soup kitchen for moving the homeless, beggars and indigents to a camp on the outskirts of the city, to voluntarily attract and move those who want to move, to find  employment by contributing to run the camp. This person has worked out some numbers too.

And lastly, one person has suggested donating a certain amount directly to known, well established charities like Red Cross, Doctors without borders, Ambulance services. Gives figures and calculations for what can be paid and verified as spent legitimately." said Sarita.

"What about the borderline suggestions?" asked Billy.

"One is about opening a mini-hospital and clinic in one of the poorest areas of the country with the least access to medical facilties. The second one is similar and suggests opening a school in such an area with free education to deserving children living within a certain area," Sarita rounded off the summary.

Gilly then picked up a big sheaf of paper and handed it to one of the silent support staff who came up from behind Billy and Ken.

"This contains all what we spoke about and the relevant details," she continued,"I have it online as well as marked on the front page."

There was a few minutes of silence as everyone stirred a bit, got a drink and went back to their seats.

"Question Time and 'storming next," said Ken smiling, "We'll start off with some questions. Anyone who wants to answer, can, raise other questions. We'll try to go around the room in order or when needed, I'll moderate."


Copyright  (c) Kannan Narayanamurthy 2016
All rights reserved 

The Billion Dollar Giveaway - Chapter 5

Madhav Sharma went out looking  pensive and a bit distracted. He thanked the receptionists and waved goodbye to them. A couple of the younger candidates snickered. A rather loud whisper was heard addressing him as "Taau-ji" (father's older brother).

"Mr. Saji Thomas." the next candidate was called in.

More candidates went in and out of the interview room for the next three days. Mr. Sharma came by in two days and handed in a sealed packet containing a slim folder. Miss. Tara and a few other candidates also came in to submit some material. They were all more detailed and considered plans for the solving the problem of the 'trick' question. Some had a bit more details about their personal background that had come up during the interviews.

Ken and Billy were sitting one afternoon at Billy's hotel suite along with a small team that included the two receptionists and Sarita.

Sarita asked,"Billy, what made you come up with idea? Why could you have not just gotten a professional team to identify worthy charities and causes, advertise solicit applications from people willing to put in some ideas, effort and energy? Why go to all this trouble of identifying a certain special kind of people among ordinary, poor folk who already have their hands full dealing with life?"

Billy and Ken exchanged knowing looks.

Billy's demeanour became sombre. He looked reflectively into some distance and said slowly,"I once tried to do such a thing by myself - to identify someone deserving and help them. It did not turn out as I intended. I saw somethings strange about human nature. I want to find people who can do a good or better job out of a simple desire or intention to help others. It is not easy given that the scale of what I have to give away is large. If I want to give away just one billion dollars a year in this way, it will be a tough ask. But I am curious if there are people capable of doing this right, anywhere in the world. I want to work with them.

By the time we give away a billion a year, my wealth sometimes increases by more than that in an year. I want to give away over 80% of my wealth in the next 20 years. I want to do it differently from how it is being done by others in my situation. They all achieve a great deal by contributing to large significant causes, in a way that masks many of the small, petty or even moderate levels of corruption and venality in human nature. They are just paid for with a certain percentage to get out the way and good things happen. That is fine for some. However, I want to do it a certain way, because I want to find people who might be able to do it better than I or how the professionals do it. If I fail to find enough people, I too might go way of others. I want to give this a try."

Sarita listened quietly. It appeared that Billy was personally affected by something that happened in his past, in just trying to help someone. He did not appear willing to talk directly about it, but had learned something that he wanted to put to use in the future.

"This is going to be an interesting project." she thought to herself."But I wonder what makes him so sad as he remembers his past." She dared not ask out aloud.

They all gathered around the buffet lunch set in one corner of the room. As Sarita stood in line next to Ken in his wheelchair, helping him, she looked at Billy still sitting in his chair, staring into the distance towards a featureless wall. He looked a bit sad.

"Billy looks sad. Did I bring up something sensitive in asking him about himself?" she asked Ken.

"Well, Yes. He lost one of the loves of his life. I was there and could not help them both despite my best efforts. While I don't think he blames himself, he does believe he was responsible to some degree for what happened to her. He wants to regain trust in human nature. That is why he is trying to find people who can perhaps do something better than he did or does," said Ken calmly. He had a strange tender tone when he spoke about Billy. One could sense a deep friendship and trust.

Soon, after lunch and walking around the room and the balcony looking out, to stretch their legs, it was back to business. Everyone went back to their seats around the room, it was a rough circle.

The group started to discuss the various candidates, their submissions etc. Sarita and the receptionists had read all of the detailed plans and background handed in by the candidates.


Copyright  (c) Kannan Narayanamurthy 2016
All rights reserved 

Phir Khiloge Phir Miloge - Dhool Ke Phool

 Phir khiloge Phir miloge
Dhool Ke Phool

Thum dharthi ke dhool ho,
Kise ke pyaar ke phool ho,

Khushi diya hai thumne hume khilkar
Yaaden diye thumne humse milkar

Aaye the kuch pal behakaane
Chaman-e-zindagi-ko mehakaane

Phoolon ka tho maqsad hi hai murjhana khilkar
Aur ek din reh jaana phir dhool se milkar

Par tere baad bhi wo mehak rahegi
Aur kisi ki tho awaaz ye kahegi

Kabhi na kabhi, Kahin na kahin
Phir ek baar thum khiloge
Phir ek din thum miloge

English Translation:

You will bloom again, We will meet again


You are the dust of the earth
You are flower of someone's love

You gave us joy by blooming
You gave us memories by meeting us

You came to distract us for a few moments
To make the garden of life fragrant

The aim in life of flowers is to wilt after blooming
And one day to become part of the dust

But the fragrance will remain after you are gone
And at least some voice will say

"Sometime, Somewhere
You will bloom again
We will meet again"
 

Copyright  (c) Kannan Narayanamurthy 2016
All rights reserved 

Kisi Se Kuch Ummeed (Expectations of Anyone)

Kisi Se Kuch Ummeed

Ek taraf  hun kuch bhikari sa
Auron ka diya khaata peeta hun
Kuch maangta nahin zara bhi
Jo mil jaaye usi par jeeta hun

'Zindagi se kuch ummeed nahin rakhna'
Yeh kuch keemath par jaana hai
Mile hue har tukde ko ab
Humne barkat maana hai

Ab har taraf barkat hi barkat
Duaaen meri behisaab hainHume dher mila khazaana ab tak
Zindagi meri laajawaab hai

Tum bhi to meri zindagi ho

Ab tum se kya ummeed ho?

Yehi agar kismat mein meri ho

Kabhi phir tumhari deed ho

Jo bhi aata hai, apne se
Bahut khushi se leta hun
Usse bhi aur khushi se
Auron ko mai deta hun

Ye dhan daulat ki baat nahi
Ye mohabbat ka kissa hai
Ye raat tu mere saat nahi
Phir bhi tu mera hissa hai

 

English Translation:

 
 Expectations of Anyone

On the one hand, I am a bit like a beggar
I eat and drink what others give me
I dont ask for anything, even a little bit
Whatever I get I live off it

"Don't expect anything as a right from life"
I have learned this at some expense
Now every crumb that I get
I treat it as a windfall

Now all around its abundance and plenty
My blessings are countless
I have received heaps of treasure
My life is peerless

You too are my life
Now what can I expect as a right, of you?
Only that if it is in my fate
Sometime, once more let me catch sight of you

Whatever comes to me, on its own accord
I happily accept it
With even greater happiness
I give away to others

This is not money and wealth I am talking about
It is a story of love
You are not with me tonight,
But you still are a part of me

Copyright  (c) Kannan Narayanamurthy 2016
All rights reserved 

The Billion Dollar Giveaway - Chapter 4

Over the course of the interview with Mr. Sharma, he let it be known that he had a strong personal reason and commitment to his family for his desire to be in one steady job for a long time and to forgo opportunities to advance his career by changing his working hours or location.

He explained without giving too many details,"I need and want to work fixed hours. I want to remain local so that I can take care of my family. I do not want to travel or move outside the city or work random hours, Sir. I want to do a good job within fixed hours so that I can be home in time."

Ken and Billy let it go at that and made notes.

Soon, it came to the same 'trick' question: "How would you go about giving away one hundred million dollars a year to truly deserving and needy people so that the greatest good can be done?"

Mr. Sharma's face did not betray any emotion or surprise upon hearing the question. He asked to confirm and clarify it it was indeed a single person responsible to disburse the whole of one hundred million dollars.

He seemed to go into a shell of thought for a few seconds, before emerging to say.
"Let me think for a minute or two before answering, That seems like a tough problem."

"Sure, take a minute to suggest your approach. but can you tell us now why does it seem like a tough problem to you?" persisted Billy, his curiosity aroused.

"Because, Sir, it is easy to find the needy, almost everyone needs something, but it it is very difficult to find out if they are deserving. It is hard to know if good will come out of helping them or bad things will happen," said Mr. Sharma readily.

"Ok, take a minute to think and tell us how you will solve the problem," said Ken, pushing a sheet of paper and pencil towards him across the desk.

Mr. Sharma quietly, set about working things and numbers out. Periodically, he paused, shook his head, and made a few notes.

Slowly, after a couple of minutes, he said quietly, "This is very difficult. I am not sure I can give you a quick answer. I am not even sure I can do this task in real life. I can try but not sure if I can achieve the goal in first year."

"Won't you even take a shot?" asked Billy.

Mr. Sharma looked puzzled upon hearing the word 'shot'.

Sarita intervened and translated for him, "Will you not atleast take a chance and try to suggest an answer for the interview?"

"Oh!! I think I can suggest some principles or rules I would like to use. I also need to be flexible. This is human problem more than technical problem," said Mr. Sharma.

"Please explain," asked Ken.

"Technical issue: Large sum of money to be spent every day on average. We cannot work day by day. It will be too much exhausting. We need to plan and prepare to make sure people are deserving. Also, difficult analysis - if more good or bad will happen. Bad also will happen, even if we try good. So, we need to balance and manage. I think we should spend more time planning and filtering and spend most money in short time.

Human issue: We also need to monitor people before and after giving money. Intrusive and costly. It is very difficult to find good people or honesty if such large amounts.

Is there enough money available separately to run office, preparation and monitoring? Or we use the same money for running office?"

"Good points, Mr. Sharma. Yes, assume that the money to be actually given away is one hundred million. Assume that the costs of running this business is available separately. How much do you think is needed?"

"Sir, for efficiency, ideally administration costs should be fixed and low," said Mr. Sharma.

"That means your salary has to be fixed and low, while you have to give away large sums of money to anyone you feel is needy and deserving. How would you feel about that?" said Billy smiling broadly.

"Sir, This question and problem seem strange to me. I am only looking at the problem now from outside, like make believe. I am trying to give real, practical approach - best I can. I think anyone who works at this job should be happy if they are paid enough for their needs. Then do a good job. It is not their own money they are giving away. They should not have temptation. Not corrupt. Difficult to find," said Mr. Sharma simply.

"I think it will take me much longer to suggest good approach. Maybe one day or two. I am sorry. I cannot come up with good answer now. There are too many balancing needs - if we take too long to find prepare and process people, we need to give away may be too much too soon, more than they really need. If we do it quickly, we might not find right people. Too much money can cause bad that we do not think of. It is difficult to monitor afterwards if too much money. People can run away and difficult to find or control. Many people also will not believe you if you tell them you want to help or give such large amounts. If you give small amounts, too many to handle in one year. Too many opposite effects to balance, Sir."

Billy and  Ken were impressed but did not show it.

"So, why don't you think about it and come back and let us know in a day or two? Can you send us an email with your suggested approach? We are here in town for another couple of days, interviewing. You can also hand in anything to the receptionists. Will you be available to talk over the phone if we want to discuss your ideas?"

If Mr. Sharma was surprised by this unusual interview, he did not show it. He seemed to have developed a composure beyond all this.

"Must be the life, the job and kind of people he has dealt with in the past," thought Billy and Ken to themselves.

Soon, Mr. Sharma left the room.


Copyright  (c) Kannan Narayanamurthy 2016
All rights reserved 

The Billion Dollar Giveaway - Chapter 3

"Good afternoon, Sirs, Madam," said Mr. Sharma, bowing slightly, hands folded in typical Indian greeting style with his small flat wallet clutched between his palms. He stood for a second until Billy greeted him and invited him with a gesture to sit down.

"Namaste, Sharma-ji" said Billy in a thick accent but a definite energy and interest in his voice and smiling broadly, his palms together in front of him.
Sarita too greeted him with a slight bow and Indian style.

Mr. Sharma could not make out if Billy was being sincere or poking pun at him with his obviously his slightly awkward display of Indian manners, but he was impressed by the way he pronounced "Namaste" and "Sharma", it was as perfect as you could expect from a person with a different accent. It was not the "Numaastey" and "Shaarma" as most westerners could deliver. It was just as good as any Indian from a different province could say it. Usually it takes a bit of practice and effort for foreigners to nail the pronunciation right. Mr. Sharma decided to treat everyone with goodwill at face value and give the benefit of the doubt unless their motives become progressively clearer and are shown to be different.

Mr. Sharma, whose first name was 'Madhav' sat down. He sat with a calm, cool dignified air with a handkerchief in the palm of his hand discreetly wiping the sweat forming on his forehead with thin grey foliage on the dome of his head. He had put his wallet on his lap. His eyes scanned the room quietly for a couple seconds taking in everything and everyone.

He waited patiently for the questions to begin.

Mr. Sharma was the oldest candidate they had interviewed thus far at 48 years of age. He was of a rather simple background. He was well educated - Master of Arts in Literature, completed later in life when working on his first jobs -some menial and all low paying. He had then landed a government job and had worked at that one organisation for the past twenty years, working his way up rather slowly from a senior clerk to an administrative officer in a large office, storing public records. It was quite unremarkable compared to the many flashy qualifications of many of the other candidates. It seemed to indicate a definite lack of ambition for someone who was now applying for a challenging new kind of work. There were a couple of other candidates still to be interviewed who were as old as Mr. Sharma, one even older and another who was retired, but they came with very extensive, impressive qualifications and experience in jobs with much greater responsibilities.

"Why do you want this job, Mr. Sharma? After all, you have been working for 20 years steadily and now you suddenly want to leave?"

"Yes. I have been doing the same kind of work for many years. I see no prospect of a change in the future too. I am experienced in dealing with people and thought I could make a bit more money working in a new different organisation. Also, your job offers more money than my current job. I think I can save up and retire early from work if I work for your company."

"Can I ask what you want to do when you retire early, Mr. Sharma?" Ken and Billy were looking at him with bemused interest. It seemed odd that this man who had not shown very much ambition or personal initiative in making a career for himself until now, safe and secure in a government job that did not pay as much, suddenly expected this one job to provide enough for him to 'retire early'. It seemed odd particularly when all around the world, people were starting to realise that they need to keep working well past retirement age to maintain their desired lifestyle.

"I want to stay home, take care of my grandchildren and play with them," said Mr. Sharma.

"Oh! So you have grandchildren?" asked Billy.

"No, not yet, but my son recently got married and soon there will be, I hope," a wide smile flashed across his face.

Many thoughts crossed Billy, Ken and Sarita's mind. They were really curious about this man's personal life and outlook to life, mainly for the purposes of determining his suitability for the job. However, they did not want to overtly pry, violate privacy guidelines for hiring and interviewing that they followed strictly. It was tricky - they could not directly ask anything or even indirectly pressure the candidate to reveal personal information, but every bit of information that he voluntarily gave helped them determine the suitability of a candidate for these rather unusual job requirements. Therefore, they made careful notes of whatever was said.

In fact, what the candidates did not know was the the receptionists in the waiting room were really hawk-eyed, trained psychologists who were observing each candidate very carefully and taking notes. A note was posted on the entrance and on a notice board that the premises were under constant video surveillance and recording. This was done with a few discreet units with their own battery backed power supply, tucked in among the plastic and some real flower vases placed strategically.

"So tell us about your plans. How long would you work for our company, if you want to retire early?" asked Ken.

"For at least 10 years if I like it and do a good job, Sir, but after that, we'll both see." said Mr. Sharma quietly.

"What if you don't do a good enough job Mr. Sharma and we have to let you go?" asked Ken.

"I think that would be fair, Mr. Ken. I think you and I can tell within one or two years. I have leave from my department. I can go back to my old job after two years if things are not good between us," said Mr. Sharma calmly.

It struck Billy that there Mr. Sharma must enjoy excellent relations with his current boss and across his department for them to let him do this. He knew that Indian government organisations offered such terms to highly qualified and technical people who wanted to set out to try their luck in the private sector. It would have been unusual to let a simple file pusher and organiser have such privilege. It also indicated that there must be a compelling reason why Mr. Sharma then had not progressed up the ranks in his own office. He figured it was probably a personal, private reason. He become curious, but did not probe directly. He wanted to see what came out naturally.


Copyright  (c) Kannan Narayanamurthy 2016
All rights reserved 

One Real Strength of the USA culture - Krazy Kake Kutting

There are moments in one's experiences that sometime reveal a surprising strength or weakness of a relationship, a family, a society, a culture or a nation. When a nation is defined by its culture, its strength and weakness are also defined by the culture of the people in it.

For several years while living in the USA, I worked for a company involved in developing technologies for everyday use. It had people from many nations and backgrounds. There were many 'older' middle-aged employees, but most were younger like I was. I was still trying to get used to the people and their culture despite having experienced it for many years in the university where I studied and in a few years that I worked at the company. I had not much experience or wisdom of the local social practices that normally I could absorb, emulate and fit in. I had done it reasonably well in my speech, accent, writing and even in some social etiquette. I however missed out on a few. It is perhaps this 'failing' that help reveal a surprising, admirable strength of the USAnian culture.

Once, during the celebration of a milestone achieved by our work group coinciding with one of its anniversaries, there was a party with a lot of food and drinks. Some of the top brass of the company too were invited. There were two cakes for dessert, rectangular in shape, one large enough to easily serve a hundred people and the other was a much smaller one that could perhaps serve twenty. There were from a very famous local cakemaker and apparently quite expensive. One of them was apparently a very fine famous rendition, soft, melt in your mouth delicacy and many looked forward to a good slice. Our successful company could afford it on such occasions. There were about 80 people in the party.

As the official party came to the cake eating stage after the initial speeches, grand buffet style dinner, everyone gathered around the cake table for a special candle blowing cermony on the cakes. An honour and toast to the group anniversary was announced by the leader of our group with a "Happy birthday" song dedicated to the group. They got the newest hire to come and blow out the candles. I was standing nearby and since I was known to have found a lot of bugs in the software I tested, I was handed a knife and given the honour of cutting the big cake first. There were a couple of others standing next to me, with a stack of paper plates and forks, ready to serve the slices as soon as I cut them.

Suddenly, all eyes were on me. I was a bit nervous. My own manager (boss) was standing next to one of the senior Vice Presidents of the company who remarked how good the cakes looked and that he could not wait to get a taste of it. My manager too appeared to be drooling in anticipation.

I had no experience of cutting a large rectangular cake simply and serving it. Being of an engineering background, if I had been asked this question in an interview, I would have easily employed the theory of the simplest method and cut smaller rectangles or squares. I would have make cuts in a rectangular grid pattern, parallel to the sides of the cakes. It is really a childishly simple problem that most children in the USA can solve. They can actually cut the cakes like that and serve it without a second thought. They have done it or seen it done before, all their lives.

I was not used to handling cakes, birthday cakes or celebrations involving cakes growing up in India. On my birthday, my parents conducted a prayer at the nearby temple, my mother made some Indian treats or we bought a few more and distributed it among my classmates and neighbours. As we grew older, it was unsaid, but expected that we would do something useful or kind to others, atleast on our birthday- perhaps in a desire to make people happy that I was born. My only encounters with cakes in India has involved my devouring a slice or two on some occasions or parties hosted by others.

During the few years I had lived in the USA until this incident, on a couple of occasions I had had some people buy a cake for me on my birthday, I used to blow out the candles and my family or friends would help cut the cake and distribute it.  I had never cut a decent sized cake by myself and distributed it. I only had knowledge of the taste of various cakes and pastries, but no experience in handling them, their structure, texture or local reputations.

Anyway, I took up the ornamental fancy cake cutting knife and flourished it like a sword, to break the tension and hide the nervousness I was feeling. Everyone laughed. I eased up a little. I then twisted it around held it like a stabbing knife. There was uproarious laughter.

"Careful Cannon don't go psycho on the cake!!" someone called out. More laughter!!

Everyone called me 'Cannon' as it was the easiest way for them to try and pronounce my name - Kannan,

At that moment, all common sense and normal thinking left me. I was suddenly 'inspired'. I felt 'artistic' like a virtuoso would. This large cake was like a blank canvas in front of me. If the cake had been a small rectangle less than a foot long, I would have instinctively gone for the rectangular grid approach, but this one was about three feet long and almost as wide. It seemed to be calling out my 'inner artist' that no one had seen for a long, long time.
"Do something special, different and show them your creative side," it seemed to scream.

With a flourish I stuck the tip of the knife in the centre of the cake. Normally, if I were to be considered normal, I was expected to make the first cut at the outer edge, in a straight line, along the outer edge of the cake, parallel to edge of the table. My first strike was not what anyone had expected.

There were shouts - some excited and some horrified. I could not tell the cheers from the jeers at that moment. I traced a curving line from the centre towards the outer edge, almost in a spiral. There were apparently some faces frozen in surprise, shock and horror. I never saw any of them. I was in 'the zone'. I pulled the knife out and went back to the center. I then traced a new curve, roughly in parallel to the first one but with a few flourishes along the way. I realised that the cake was very soft and simply dragging the knife smoothly in one direction was not working well - some of the cake was being dragged on either sides of the blade. It was not a clear, sharp cut dividing the cake. That would require a slight to and fro, sawing kind of motion, that would work fine in a straight line. I had already drawn a big sweeping curve across the face.

By now, apparently, the crowd watching me had divided itself into two groups, one that was stunned, shocked, horrified and outraged at my performance and another that was stunned, shocked, thrilled and excited at the same performance. I suspect many had already had enough of the alcoholic drinks to make them feel a bit wild. There were some loud cheers and chanting beginning.

"Go Cannon, Go Cannon, Go Cannon!!" I could hear the crowd.

 I performed a couple more sweeping long cuts. There was some silence and quiet murmurs.

Everyone was still waiting to see how I would plan the little slices for everyone. I realised that people needed small serving sized slices soon. So I started to cut between the curved lines I had rendered. I used the to and fro motion, but that dragged long trails of that soft cake. It was meant to be treated carefully and differently than the 'butchering' that I was administering, as quoted by someone later.

I was still focussed on the cake and my eyes did not take notice of things happening around me. My helpers gamely helped scoop up the slices and served one first quickly. One even made its way to the senior VP. My own manager apparently froze in horror, turned  away and went over to the edge of the room, watching from a distance with her hands over mouth, trying to hold up her dropping jaw perhaps!

I diligently finished with my artistic patterned rending of the big cake. In the noise and bedlam, I did not notice who was not with me. All excited and flushed with my 'success' I went over to the second cake.

I thought I faintly head someone say "Oh No! Someone please save that poor thing at least!!" Perhaps it was my manager.

But it was too late. I had seen the smaller cake and decided it was not suitable for fine art, but a less intricate but different pattern -  parallel angular cuts, but at an angle to the sides, in way that the slices came out in a stretched diamond shape. That cake was firmer and withstood my assault with its innards and guts still intact and in a better condition than my first victim.

Apparently, the group of my 'supporters' was a larger than my detractors, and that there was no one in the 'neutral' group. They either loved me or hated me! Later, I heard my manager left the room after she saw my first cut of the second cake. She had pushed away a slice of the first cake that someone had extended towards here, refusing any part of it. Even later, someone told me she had said, "I can never look at cake the same way again!" Apparently, she was joined soon by a few more of the managers. The senior VP was also seen leaving shortly afterwards.

When I looked around triumphantly, after conquering both the cakes, I soon realised something was terribly wrong. A couple of my colleagues told me what had happened and how my manager had reacted. I was crestfallen, shocked and stunned. I knew a performance review meeting was soon coming up with my manager in a day or two. I already dreaded it because of some issues I was having at work. Now, this should completely wreck my future with this company, I thought to myself. My shoulders slumped and I wandered off to my room. On my way, I was offered a piece of the cake by my helpers. I was too upset to be able to eat. I did not have the heart to refuse the person who was smiling supportively at me. Many in the room were aware of how my manager and other managers had reacted to my act. I took the slice in hand and walked to my room. On the way, I passed by my manager's office with the door open. She was sitting at her desk, looking intently at her computer and ignoring me with great effort. Normally, we would always exchange a wave. I went over to my room with the cake slice in my hand. I put it on the table and slumped in my chair. I closed my eyes. My throat was dry, my heart had been pounding for a while - first in excitement during my performance and in the shock of realisation of its effects, soon after.

Soon, there was a knock on my door. My voice sounded strangely deflated, even to me.

"Come in!" I said. I could never turn anyone from my work group away while at work anyway. It could be official work.

About a dozen of my colleagues trooped into my office, mostly the juniors, temporary hires and newbies. There were a few friends I worked with closely. They all looked at me.

"I can see you are not OK, you are upset. But we want you to know it is fine with all of us,"  one of my good friends in the group said.

"No, it is not. Did you not see my manager? She could not bear to it. I blew it!" I said resignedly.

"No, We have never seen anyone cut a cake like that before, dude! It was awesome!" someone said.

"Yes, totally radical, cool man!" There was loud cheering and laughter that spread from my room on outside.

I heard more people in the hallway outside my door. It was a huge crowd following me. I was worried because they all were lining up along my manager's office and she could hear everything.
I reckoned that these people who were showing their 'support' for me and trying to cheer me up were actually making things worse for me with my manager and other managers.

"I have never cut a cake before to be served to others in India," I tried to explain plaintively.

"Well, you are unique in your cake-cutting style, Cannon. We'll now have to call you to cut all the cakes in our office!" my friend said.

"Yeah, Yeah, Cannon Cake Cutter!! C-C-C" someone called out.

"His name is spelled with a 'K', "someone else pointed out.

"It should  then be Kannon, Krazy Kake Kutter - K-K-K-K" More laughter.

"Three cheers to KKKK!"...

"Kannan, You are the most unique cake cutter in the USA. You should go on TV! I will invite you to my house just to cut cakes."

It went on. They would not leave me until I had eaten the cake slice. Someone brought me a drink. Another person soon sent away everyone else. They saw to it that I went home and reached home safely that night.

"Don't worry. Nothing will happen to you because of this," they tried to reassure me, confidently.

"Well, your manager is perhaps shocked, but she should not have reacted like this. She should have had that slice of cake." someone said, loud enough for my manager to hear.

I realised that some of those speaking up for me, so loudly and openly did infact report to my manager too. They were totally unafraid. It took a long time to dawn on me. This culture was different from what I expected. Socially, in a work place, this culture expected fairness for all and would not stand for punishing someone for such acts as mine. If someone made a mistake unintentionally and socially, a grown up was expected to act with grace, kindness and understanding. It did not matter how senior or high up the person was.

Later, after my performance review, I realised that my manager focussed only on my work performance and left this out of consideration. Apparently, her own manager's job was to make sure she did the right thing. The senior VP who had left quietly, was also responsible for making sure the right messages were sent down the chain of command for all. They worked hard to ensure that the managers did the right thing, that the morale of the group was kept up. They did not hesitate to subtly pull up senior managers or caution them against retaliation or victimisation of employees.

I slowly realised that I was feeling concerned and worried because of my own background, experience and expectations. It had been ingrained in me over many years. I have seen in many parts of the world, people are afraid to speak up against the mistakes of senior or more powerful people in the company or the more assertive people in a gathering. In many cultures, they routinely pander to their personal whims even if they are not being fair, kind or graceful.  I am not saying that every instance is dealt like this in the USA, but the USA is different that in most cases it does NOT happen that way. It is very clear from observing their culture, their people from all parts of the country, from all income and social status, that they will speak up for what they believe is right, fair or good in front of their managers. This forces most to fall into line of being 'nice and kind'  or 'decent' socially.

This is surely one of the greatest real strengths of the USA. The loyalty and affection they earn from their employees and general population is different from other cultures.


Copyright  (c) Kannan Narayanamurthy 2016
All rights reserved 

The Billion Dollar Giveaway - Chapter 2

Inside the interview room, facing the door, to the left, from across a small table sat a greying middle-aged man of Caucasian appearance in a typically Indian safari suit. He had a handwritten name tag 'Billy' on his chest. He had a very casual and semi-bored appearance that his close friends knew was deceptive. He was actually very tuned and paying a great deal of attention. A little to his left sat an older white haired old man in a wheelchair. He too appeared to be of European origin. He had a name tag saying "Ken". There was a saree clad Indian woman, looking to be in her late 30s, sitting next to the man in the wheelchair. She had a neatly printed name tag saying "Sarita - Interpreter" pinned to her saree on the chest from where it folded over her shoulder.

"Hello, Good morning Sirs, Madam," Miss. Tara bowed formally and politely, trying to figure out who was the most important one. Ken seemed to be in the middle and the two others sat turned slightly towards him. They waited for him to make the first response as he was looking down at something on the desk. He looked up and stared directly at the candidate for a second. Billy waved for Miss. Tara to come forward and signalled her to sit down, grunting a greeting.

    Miss. Tara moved closer and sat down. There was a spare seat next to her and she thankfully put down all her 'attachments' - handbag, mobile phone and water bottle in it. She noted that the three interviewers too were sweating and a bit uncomfortable. There was no fan running. Must be a cheap rented office, she figured - not even a generator for the important clients!! She however noted that the three in the room seemed quite cool and focussed mentally.

"Hello, Miss. Tara, Thank you for coming to meet and talk with us," said the Ken in a clear but clipped accent.

    The interview began and proceeded as with others. Ken often did not ask the questions himself, but pointed to a paper in front of him and Sarita, the interpreter, asked the question on his behalf. She also occassionally translated Tara's responses from English into another language that Tara was unfamiliar with. Billy sometimes jumped in midstream and asked a question in English or commented , sometimes in that in that strange language.Mostly, he sat with a bored expression, watching the candidate carefully periodically.

    There had been a repeating pattern - each candidate had asked for more details of their expected role and duties about the job, the industry or business they were to be in. They tried to point out the vagueness of the advertised description - "Customer Relations and Development". Some made efforts to sound polite and soft as they asked for clarification, the others were more direct, a few even let show their anger and frustration.

"How can you expect us to show our qualification, if you are not clear about your job Mr. Ken?!!" one had demanded.

    The two interviewers and the interpreter had patiently dealt with each. Each candidate had been asked about themselves - to state their background and anything they wished to share. They had each been asked same or similar trick question.

"How would they go about distributing a 100 million dollars an year to the truly needy and deserving people so that the greatest good could come of it?"

Most candidates had been impatient with such 'trick' questions and wanted to get to some 'real life, practical questions, that has some connection to their roles in the "Customer Relations and Development". They tried to give a quick, off-the-top-of-the-head or clever reply and move on. They found the interviewers were strangely stuck on that theme for long and when the interview was called over, they assumed they had not done well enough to get past to the stage where they would be asked the serious, real questions. They felt it was the interviewer's fault for wasting their time on frivolous questions and affecting their chances. Some walked out seething.

The interviewers sometimes chuckled on hearing the just departed candidate venting outside the room loud enough for them to hear.

"Time waste!"
"What are they trying to do and waste all the time in useless questions?"
"I'll tell my friend not to bother coming in tomorrow."

Some candidates sincerely tried to answer the questions to the best of their ability and understanding. Overall, it had been very interesting for the interviewers. They made careful notes and remembered the more interesting interactions.

Many asked if the money HAD to be spent within the year or a fixed time limit?

"Yes, it has to be," said Billy,"else it will keep adding to the next years target and that would become an even bigger load!"

That stumped a few, but they all got the message that it was important for the money to be spent within the year or their own performance would be rated as not good and perhaps they would suffer a penalty in their compensation. That seemed so odd, when there was apparently so much money lying around to be given away!

One candidate had 'cleverly' posed a few counter questions to arrive at a solution.

"Assuming I get the job, do I have to prove to my boss in every case that the person I want to give the money to is needy and deserves it?" he asked

"No. In that case we may not need you at all and your boss could probably do your job," said Ken speaking slowly and clearly.

The smart one then asked,"Can I give it to ANYONE I honestly believe is needy and deserves it without having to prove it to you everytime?"

"Yes, of course, you may," Billy had said casually.

"What if I believe I need it, or my family or friends need and deserve it? Can I keep the money or give to them?" he pushed further cheekily.

"Yes, of course. You may," said Billy with an almost bored expression.

"Then problem solved, Sir! Just trust me and give me the job. I will get it done," said the candidate, all smiles.

"How?" asked Ken quietly.

"Trust me, Sir, I WILL need the money! Your problem solved. Mine also!!," he could barely contain himself.

There were smiles all around.

Miss. Tara, wanting to sound honest and professional, had suggested contributing to known 'trusted' charities and working with a a few of their representatives. Once set up, it could go on almost indefinitely and it would be easy for her to manage.

"But then, why would one need your position? Why can the business not set it up themselves?" posed Ken.

"That is also what I am wondering, honestly, Sir," said Tara.

"Well, we have to think about what you said, Miss. Tara," said Billy and the interview proceeded for a little longer.

Tara, was still not at ease, the question seemed to nag at her.

She too, boldly started to ask counter questions about the trick question.

"I suppose if you wanted to give money to established charities you would not need a hypothetical job like you described. Obviously, you want to do something different. Let me try again to solve the problem, Sir. So you mean I can give money to anyone on the street or anywhere, who I think is deserving?"

"Yes, Miss. Tara, by pretending that it is a real job description. What would you do?"

"I could go out everyday, carrying cash or chequebook  or credit card and walk the streets around the city, go to the hospitals and distribute money to those I can see are needy and poor," said Tara.

"Okay, so how much cash would you carry? Or credit card? Can you describe your typical work day for us?"

"Can I work out something quickly and tell you, Sir," asked Tara.

"Sure! Go ahead Miss. Tara," said Ken smiling. He offered her a sheet of paper and pencil from a box on the table.

"If it is one hundred million dollars a year that I am personally responsible for, Sir, that comes to be about  6.7 billion rupees a year. Dividing by 365, it will be..," she started to calculate on a calculator on her mobile phone.

"Over 18 million rupees a day at that rate," said Billy casually.

Tara was surprised at the quick answer of Billy and its closeness to the real answer.

"Oh, that is very close to the real answer, Sir," she proceeded, "So, per hour, dividing by 24..."

"Miss. Tara, do you think a person can work 365 days a year, 24 hours a day without a break?" asked Billy almost sleepily.

Suddenly, Tara was flustered at herself, for not making this as real as possible, even in an exercise.

"Sorry, Sir. My mistake. I am sorry," she said with feeling,"I should take it more seriously. With holidays and weekends, I think I could work 250 days a year. For 10 hours a day sir?" She wanted to show and prove the long hours she was willing to put in.

"Really, Miss. Tara? Would that be a healthy way to work 10 hours every working day? What about your daily commute? Your sleep and family? We only expect people to work an eight hour day," Billy said it in a serious tone, even while smiling softly.

"Ok, Sir! I will recalculate... With public holidays and annual leave," she started

"Let us say, it is roughly 240 days of work a year," said Billy, leading her on

"Ok, Sir, then at eight hour days..." she started to calculate,

"What about lunch and work breaks, Miss. Tara?" the quiet Ken, seemed to want to throw her an extra challenge teasingly.

"OK. Mr. Ken. I will adjust that and calculate...240 days and seven hours each day," she started to key in the numbers

"That will be close to 4 million rupees an hour," said Billy lazily but it was well before Tara could finish working it out.

Tara was impressed with the apparent speed of Billy's calculations, but was lost in figuring out the correct numbers in the interview.

"That is correct, Sir," she said.

"Now, what?" asked Ken, "How will you plan to give away money to deserving people at the rate of 4 million rupees per hour. If you dont' give it away, it will accumulate interest sitting in some account and it will become more."

"It is going to be difficult, Sir, but I think it can be done. It should be easier to spend that much money in an hour properly than making that much in an hour honestly," she said casually, trying to buy time to think it out.

Ken and Billy perked up at her last remark.

"Let us assume that all the money we are talking about is made and spent honestly and above board, Miss. Tara," said Ken.

The interview went on and other candidates came and went. The answers to the 'trick' question were mostly in jest, some a bit semi-serious and a few a bit different.

In a little while, the middle-aged man was called in.

"Hello, Mr. Sharma. Good afternoon," Ken greeted him first as he entered the room.


Copyright  (c) Kannan Narayanamurthy 2016
All rights reserved 

Modern Blessings - "May the waters flow unblocked in the drain pipes of your house!"

"May the waters flow unblocked in the drain pipes of your house!"

I have always been affected by hearing blessings. As a child, when I heard them from adults, at first I used to think that they really had magical powers to say something so nice and make it come true. Then I used to often get a bit frustrated that they never said the things I really wanted to happen and wished for. It seemed that I could never get them to say blessings that I really wanted to hear. In my teens, I grew quite cynical, rebellious and was quite gruffly dismissive of them.

Now, I have a variety of feelings about them. Even if I feel they will not come true literally, I can clearly see the loving feeling and spirit they convey. I like the feelings they evoke in the giver, receiver and even the listener. I love that old culture of saying blessings out aloud. I find the old classic blessings very charming. Take for example the following samples:

 "May the road rise up to meet you, may the wind be ever at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face and the rain fall softly on your fields. And until we meet again, May God hold you in the hollow of his hand."
- Irish Blessings in the Lord's Prayer

There are blessing on the following lines for newly married couples in the Indian culture.

"May you two live together for a hundred years, have a thousand sons"

"May you bathe in milk, bloom and fruit"


 You can get definitely get the spirit, even if you know you don't literally want the road to rise up to meet you - which would indicate a massive devastating earthquake, or have a thousand sons within a hundred years, even if it is practical, as a means of blessing a newly married couple while asking them to commit exclusively to each other. Neither is bathing in milk regularly recommended if there is not enough water.

No, not all the old blessings are staid and serious, Some are very funny, honest and still applicable.

For example:

“May those who love us, love us; and those who don't love us, may God turn their hearts; and if He doesn't turn their hearts, may he turn their ankles so we'll know them by their limping.”
-  Irish Blessings quotes

As a means of reconciling my love of blessings and practicality in real life, I am starting a new series of modern and more practical blessings, that, if they literally come true, we would all be happy. You can see the first of these, in the title of this article. It was inspired by my feelings after having the plumber fix a slow-running and backed up shower drain in my house after a while, removing the tree roots that had grown into the pipes.

I shall try to add one every day or week. Please feel free to contribute some of your own with clear statement of copyright whenever possible in the comments section. Please keep them rated from G to PG. No MA or X rated ones please... This thread will degenerate quickly if they are allowed. Try some nice, true blessings that you could say out loud in mixed company with children present.

I will keep adding on to this same post regularly. Let us see how many we blessings we can think of.

Here are a few more I will start us all off with:

"May the interest rate on your credit card be low"

"May the car be on sale when you go shopping for one"
 

Copyright  (c) Kannan Narayanamurthy 2016
All rights reserved 

The Billion Dollar Giveaway - Chapter 1

The Billion Dollar Giveaway - Chapter 1

It was a hot day and the electric power was cut due to overloading by all the air-conditioners in the city. It was grimy and dusty on the street dirt being stirred up by every passing vehicle. One could see the convection of the hot air rising from the scorching pavement in the particles of dust rising and falling in whirls like little tiny tornadoes. The constant honking of the vehicles added to the annoyance of most as the main door was left open.

    The fans overhead were all still. The candidates for the interview in the waiting room were striving very hard to give an appearance of being calm, cool and looking presentable. It was all so incongruent to the oppressive weather and surroundings. There was a ring of wet, blackish grime already on the collars of most seated wearing white, pressed and starched shirts and polished shoes. Dust had coated them by the time they arrived here and many had cleverly packed a rag or tissue paper to give the shoes a polish in the waiting room, just in time for the interview. A couple of them were even wearing neckties!! Most were young men/women in their twenties. Many were complaining about the weather, the terrible state of the city electric supply and were secretly hoping that this job would give them a chance to get away from this place or atleast provide them with an air-conditioned car to get around. A middle-aged man too sat quietly, dressed in casual clothing - in a coloured, check-patterned shirt that did not show up the sweat or dirt. He wore dark brown leather sandals that hid the dirt too. He sat quietly by himself while the youngsters talked among themselves and twiddled often with their mobile phones. The two receptionists at the table in the corner seemed too old to still be working as receptionists. One was obviously a visiting foreigner, a white-haired, white European looking woman and the other was a local. They looked totally bored and sleepy eyed even as they looked out at the candidates seated in the waiting room. There was a water dispenser in the corner with cups.

    The door to the interview room opened briefly, a young man, the previous candidate stepped out looking stiff and formal. He turned back once again, standing at the parted curtains and said in a cultivated accent,"And thank you Sirs for the interview!"

"Miss. Tara!" announced an assistant that emerged from behind the curtains at the door.

    A young lady stood up, in a flash gathering all her attachments- her handbag, mobile phone, water-bottle and a traditional scarf worn over the shoulders, all clustered up around her seemingly attracted by some magnetic mysterious force.

She interrupted her phone call,"I have to go in now. They have called my name. Ok, Thank you for wishes and prayers. Hari Om!"

    She then marched in, leaving behind a scented trail of some kind of perfume in the still air, as the assistant held open the curtains for her to enter. The door shut behind her.

    Some young men seated sniggered behind her as they found her amusing. The middle-aged man sat quietly, with a barely noticeable faint smile on his face that came and went. The candidate who had just finished his interview went over the corner of the room and was immediately mobbed by many.

"What kind of questions?"
"Come on man, atleast give a sample or two"
Their entreaties were heard by their target, who basked for a few moments in his importance and their attention.

"It was mostly trick questions. I could not figure out their exact business, but it must be customer relations. I think they asked many strange questions to try and see if you get annoyed of frustrated or trap you. You've got to think and be clever about money." said the young man.

"What exactly did they ask you?"

"One question was - If we gave you the job of giving away a hundred million dollars a year to deserving and needy people, how would you go about it?"

Laughter erupted around the waiting room.

"Did they say how much this job pays you?"

"Yes, I asked and they said it was the same as they adverstised this job, about ten thousand dollars a year. That is very good money in India."

"That is certainly a trick question!"

"What did you answer?"

"Well, I am sorry, I would like to tell you, but I have to go now. I have to be at another interview in an hour. See you all. Good luck," said the young man, smiling smugly. He left the room and out into the furnace like street.


Copyright  (c) Kannan Narayanamurthy 2016
All rights reserved 

JeeteJi (While Still Living)

JEETEJI

Jeeteji sun-nah chahoonga
Aapki taalian
Aapki gaalian
Marne ke baad kya sun paoonga?

Apni har shikayat
Har shaabashi
abhi keh daalo
Shaayad main ab bhi kuch ban paoonga! 

English Translation:

WHILE STILL LIVING

While still living I'd like to hear
your every cheer,
your every jeer
What can I hear when I'm no longer here?

Your every brickbat
Your every bouquet
Give it to me right now!
Perhaps I still can become something,
Something better somehow

Copyright  (c) Kannan Narayanamurthy 2016
All rights reserved 

Severe windy weather can make you feel patriotic

It is a day of severe and damaging winds in Melbourne today. But it also has some unexpected side-effects. I took a walk and was suddenly inspired to be patriotic!

Video Credit and Copyright  (c) Kannan Narayanamurthy 2016
All rights reserved 

Children are God-like

Children are God-like, because:

1) they readily accept their mistakes when they are pointed out to them, without their Ego getting in the way (God knows, God is not perfect!)

2) they forgive and move past the blunders of others around them and 

3) Can still develop a loving relationship with the ones who have hurt them

In my observation, these qualities are quite common in children, but uncommon in adults.


Copyright  (c) Kannan Narayanamurthy 2016
All rights reserved 

Prepare for the worst and prepare for the best

Prepare for the worst and
Prepare for the best.

Prepare for anything in between.

Too often, our mistake is,
that we
Prepare for the worst and
Hope for the best

Copyright  (c) Kannan Narayanamurthy 2016
All rights reserved 

Zamaane Se Mohabbat Hai

An Ode to 'Zamaana (the world)', much reviled in our Indian poetry and shayari. I have a contrarian view in this piece. I have noted that 'Zamaana' itna bura to nahin, jitna banaya jaatha hai. Please note that this is not a complaint against the 'Apne (our own)' as opposed to 'Zamaana'. Personally, mere 'apne' have been wonderful too. I am just writing this piece from the third party view of what I have observed. 

Summary in English: "The world is not as bad as we make it out in poetry. It is sometimes more loving and supportive than we expect. I love it!:

Zamaane Se Mohabbat Hai

Bahut zaleel kiya hai zamaane ko
sheron me bewafa keh kar
Kabhi apne bhi na rahe tho
Zamaane ne saath nibhaya hai

Kathor, be-reham kaha tha ise
Jab har dard diya hai apnon ne bhi
be-tawaqqo beshumaar, kahin jyaada apnon se
mujhe madad aur reham mila hai zamaane se

Haan Zamaana tujh me bhi chand nuqs hain
Tu bilkul behtareen to nahin
Par tu insaanon ki tarah, apne naseeb ke saath
Ghadi-ghadi badalta to nahin

Zamaana mujhe tum se mohabbat ho gayi hai
Fakhr hai tujhe mera yaar kehte
Zamaana, agar thera insaan ka aakaar hota
Laakhon ka tu hi ek saccha pyaar hota

English Translation:

I am in love with the 'world-out-there'

The 'world-out-there' has been much reviled in our poetry and literature as being unfaithful,
but when 'our own people' have not been there the 'world-out-there' has stood by us.

 It has been described as hardened, merciless
When 'our-own' have also given us every pain,
Un-expectedly and in countless ways, more than from 'our-own',
I have received help and kindness from the 'world-out-there'

Yes, 'World' you have a few flaws,
You are not perfect.
But like people, you do not change your loyalty by the hour, depending on my fate

'World', I have fallen in love with you
Am proud to call you my beloved
'World', if you were in human form
Many would have only you as their true love!
 

Copyright  (c) Kannan Narayanamurthy 2016
All rights reserved