Fortune favours while success succeeds...

This photo was taken by me at the Pikes Peak(US)Colorado .The elevation is 14000feet

RICH & FAMOUS--CHOSEN ONES
WHO doesn’t want to be rich and famous? And who won’t like to pool all the resources at one’s command to be in the hall of fame? Since all of us cannot make it to that status, do we not seek identification to impress the world about our acquired level of superiority? But destiny is somewhere there, playing its quiet role.
Lady Luck doesn’t smile on everyone. You have to be a “chosen one” to have that divine favour; boon or benediction. Hitting a jackpot, winning a lottery, being the millionth buyer of a car and getting it free, or stumbling on a hidden treasure, are all in the hands of God. Or providence, if you prefer that word.
There may be other parameters to judge one’s being lucky or unlucky. Being fortunate and being successful are two different things. Fortune favours while success succeeds. One may wait for Lady Luck to smile but one has to really be in a hurry and strive to be successful. Skills, of course, do make a difference in shaping one’s destiny. Also if you are possessed with the ability to bend your bones or pull a truck by your eyelashes, it does make a difference.
Epics, sagas, tales, episodes, incidents, instances are mostly made up of stuff that providence provides and protagonists possess. Yet a fair or unfair distribution of what is perceived as booty makes one lucky or otherwise.
Indian films provide enough material on divine allocation of resources. If a starving hero saves the life of a rich man, or still better, his daughter, then he mostly has the best of both worlds. Remember Ifteqar in “Amar Akbar Anthony”, who places his bet on a shoe-shine boy who grows up to become Big-B, saying, “Ye lambee race ka ghora hai (He will go a long way in life).” While in the first case, it is being lucky, and in the second, successful.
There may be many ways to be rich and famous. Some people do name-dropping and proclaim and clamour about their relationship with the already rich and famous. For example, you can always find characters who brag about, saying, “I have direct access to 10 Janpath!” or “Madam recognises me in a crowd!” Those who are not able to make it to Bollywood in any recognisable way can be seen dropping names like “Ramu is dependable!” or “Vidhu is just like a younger brother!”
By way of a reverse argument, if you at least verbally take on the might of a biggie and pose a challenge to his authority, you become one of the debated ones. Heard of that couplet from Zafar Gorakhpuri, “Kitni aasani se mashhoor kiya hai khud ko; Maine apne se bade shakhs ko galee dee!” (How easily have I made myself popular by simply abusing someone really great.)
You can think of various ways to be in the news at least, if not rich enough. Come in the way of a wealthy man’s car but do please avoid Salman Khans. Also if you are able to survive an air-crash, train accident or a boat capsizing, when all about you are gone, you definitely make the stuff when curious journalists could be seen interviewing you, almost gagging your mouth with that instrument which they call an ID, “How are you feeling now?” or “How really do you feel now, when the entire world knows you?” True, some are born great while others strive and gyrate. Sorry, Mr Shakespeare!

This article was published in The Tribune dated Sept 28,07

My freind Dr. GS Bajpai wrote back saying it was in Diwar and not Amar Akbar Anthony that the referred dialogue figured. I stand corrected.

What is in a name...!

Calcutta has become Kolkata, Bombay Mumbai,Madras Chenni and now Banglore Bangalooru...An earstwhile State of PEPSU and a district of Haryana in India , JIND is once again in news for being "renaming". Does it really serve any useful purpose...? Jind in Punjabi has many connotations ranging from jaan, zindagi, atma,etc. The Tribune's Senior Correspondent talked to me and filed this story which appeared in their September 18 issue.May find it interesting.

Don’t meddle with names

Naveen S Garewal

Tribune News Service
Chandigarh,September17

The move to rename “Jind” as “Jeend” has not gone down well with many people in the state who feel that meddling with a city’s name is not only undesirable but also unacceptable as it creates unnecessary confusion. Besides, in the specific case of Jind, historical and documentary evidence is available that suggests that “Jind” was spelt differently at different times in history.
A senior Haryana police officer, Rajbir Deswal, has supplied The Tribune with a large number of postage stamps, photographs and an envelope of a registered letter from the British era in which “Jind” is spelt as such and also as “Jeind”, “Jhind”, etc. But the most authentic of them all is a photograph taken by Deswal outside a court that spells the state’s name as “Jheend”.
The main objection of those opposed to a name change or a change in its spelling is that it must serve some purpose. “Merely changing the name for the sake of change leads to a lot of messing up with records and documentation, besides ignoring the sensitivity and disposition of the people towards a particular name which they have been used to for generations. ‘Jind’ connotes something; we must learn to respect historicity”, says Deswal.
During pre-Independence days Jind formed part of Punjab . Historically, Sardar Gajpat Singh is documented to be the first notable chief of Jind State who made Jind town his capital in 1746. A fief of the Delhi Empire, he was given the title of Raja. His empire gained strength after he married off his daughter Raj Kaur to Sardar Mahan Singh Sukarchakya, chief of the Sukarchakya Misl, in the Trans-Satluj region in 1774 at Badrukhan. Some historians believe that Maharaja Ranjit Singh was born at Badrukhan on November 13, 1780 . Incidentally, Maharaja Ranjit Singh’s wife was also named Rani Jind Kaur or “Jindan”.


Postage stamps and postage covers and pictures showing different spellings of “Jind” during different periods of time.
There are several documents from the beginning of the current century that mention “Jind” State. One of the most important of these is the list of medals of the Third Afghan War, 1919, that mentions the Jind Imperial Service Infantry as one of the recipients of the award. Colonel-in-Chief, Jind Imperial Service Regiment, Suraj Mukhi is also listed in British records as a recipient of the Prince of Wales (1876) and KIH (1877) gold medals.
According to Prof M.R. Sethi’s narration about the history of Jind, as described on the website www.Jindcity.com, “mythologically, the son of Lord Inder, Jayant, named the city after his name. As per another mythological story, the city derives its name from Jainti, the goddess of victory, in whose dedication a temple was erected by the Pandavas. They offered prayers to the goddess to seek her blessing for success before launching the Battle of Mahabharata. The authenticity of the fact can be ascertained from the Mahabharata and the Padam Purana. Jind forms part of the Kurukshetra Bhumi i.e. divine land of 48 Kosa. That is why, unlike in other cities, the mortal remains of those who die in Jind are not taken to Haridwar for immersion in the Holy Ganges but are immersed in Jind itself in some holy pond or canal”.

That one night stand...

And once again I was compelled to repose my faith in human relations...!

That was a rain-soaked night in Chandigarh some 25 years back. Completely drenched from head to toe, and stepping in on the verandah, I thumped my feet one by one to shake off some water, before pressing the doorbell. My friend came behind me.
A woman called up to hold on “for a while”. Some creaking sound from inside and I could make out her steps leading on to the entrance. I had not met her earlier. She unbolted and pushed both door panels. There she was, with her bold and stout built. In her early thirties. And smiling.
I had met her husband only once. We had no association except that he had used some of my pieces for the magazine he edited then. He was from Himachal and since he had given me his residential address for posting my stuff, lest it be lost in a bigger postbox, I knew where he lived.
That night we were to return to our hometown but the work whole day could not be finished and there was no way out than to stay back. I didn’t know many people in the City Beautiful then. There being no other choice, the decision of trying the editor’s home was taken instantaneously. We hired a rickshaw though my friend hesitated in bothering someone at that odd hour of the rainy night.
I introduced myself to her. She let us in, informing that her husband had to go to the Press for some urgent work, and that he would come back in a couple of hours. She then pointed to a settee for us to sit on and a table in the corner to put down our bags.
She went to the kitchen to make some tea for us while we exchanged glances.
After having tea, we announced our intent to leave. “But why?” she questioned, “I guess you’d come to stay for the night. Isn’t it! Where will you go while it is raining so heavily? Moreover, think of this home as your own.”
“That’s so very nice of you and thank you indeed for your kindly feelings but…!” I couldn’t even complete the sentence when she pitched in, “Is it because my husband is not at home? I am not alone in the house. ‘Amma ji’ and my kids are here.”
I was hardly able to mutter, “Still…!” when she silenced me once and for all, “What if my brothers should visit us like you have! Should I turn them away?” That clinched the issue and there we were laying cots with bedspreads. Like stones we dropped and slept off.
We met her smiling husband in the morning over a cup of tea when he was already awake and reading his newspaper. His looks betrayed all expressions of knowledge of our feeble disposition exposed the previous night. I looked for her around but she had already left for her school. It was a fine sunny day to begin afresh and repose faith in human relations. Thank you, sister. Unknown till then. Unseen till now.
(This piece was published in The Tribune of September 10th,07, under the title The Benefactor)