Class taking

Will my teacher friends tell me what's wrong in CLASS TAKING that they say " उसने सब की क्लास लगा ली--Usne sab ki class laga lee"

ET Review of HOLYPOL

Haryanavi humour is legendary. And it comes as much with subtle twirls of semantics as from the manner of speech. Rajbir Deswal uses both in his writings—the twirls and the punch—often with a hidden message a la jataka tales. This book is a collection of ‘middle’ pieces, written by Deswal over the years for many a newspaper. The author, an illustrious IPS officer from Haryana, in one of cartoons in the book is shown in full regalia slinging a pen, instead of his gun, from his shoulder. That somehow sums up the book. Deswal shoots from the mightier instrument. His middles, short and quirky, deal with the situation at hand; present his earthly view on the subject; and leaves the reader with a smile on face and a question in mind. The last chapter, a dating advice to champion boxer Vijender Singh, is worth mentioning here. After listing out various options for the pugilist, Deswal offers caution when it comes to dating Mallika Sherawat. For, he says, there could be a Gotra controversy and it may invite the wrath of self-styled village Panchayats in the state. Such is the punch that most middles are meant to deliver.

जाने वालों से राबता रखना

“जाने वालों से राबता रखना/दोस्तों रस्मे फातेहा रखना/घर क़ि जैसी भी तामीर हो उस में/रोने क़ि कुछ जगह रखना।”

निदा फाजली

(Keep them in mind and lament the loss of those who depart। Have a corner/chamber to weep your heart out when you build a house)।

NIDA FAZLI

On Earth Day!!!

नहीं है ए फलक तेरे खुदा से खौफ
डरते हैं ए ज़मीन तेरे आदमी से हम

They don't only wield batons, they wield the pen too!

They don't only wield batons, they wield the pen too, and with much aplomb. Meet these top Haryana c...ops whose tough hands write soft verses.The police corridors in Haryana is buzzing with many a cops whose love for literature is growing stronger by the day . IPS Rajbir Deswal, currently posted as DIG, CID at the Police Headquarters in Panchkula, sprinkles satire generously in his work. With more than six books to his credit, besides over 1000 articles including book reviews, this writer cop has carved his own niche in the literary circles. He has many awards to his credit, including the one given by Indian Society of Writers.“Through my works, I generally like to comment on the larger picture of life. My passion for writing is more than three decade old and my works have mostly been a blend of humour, cultural orientation and human relations,“ says Deswal, who is in his 50s. He is at present busy translating the works of Haryanvi poet Lakhmichand, in English.He, however, has written many serious articles on disaster management, DNA tests, illegal disposal of dead bodies and many other topics of academic interest.Meet another IPS officer, KP Singh, currently posted as IG (Training) at Panchkula.Contrary to Rajbir, his literary works have a more academic orientation. And in his works, he deals with issues like human rights, women empowerment, children's rights, state custody laws, police training etc.With about a dozen books to his credit, mostly in Hindi and along with 500 articles in national dailies, Singh has his hands full. In quite a few of his works, he has critiqued the police system as well.I don't want to be termed a critic , but yes I do like to point out the loopholes in our existing system“ says Singh.He further adds, “The Police is supposed to serve the people, but it is no so. The public has to be more demanding and the police stations needs to be turned into a more public friendly zone.“Out of his many books, he has got wide recognition for his works like Samanter Vad, on state custody laws in India, Manav Adhikar aur Police Tantra, a monograph on witness protection. He has been awarded by National Human Rights Commission, Ministry of Home Affairs and many other social organisations.In the end, he says, “Writing for me is cathartic. It is an outlet for the strong feelings that I undergo, whenever I see people become victims of any wrongdoing.“ They don't only wield batons, they wield the pen too, and with much aplomb. Meet these top Haryana cops whose tough hands write soft verses.The police corridors in Haryana is buzzing with many a cops whose love for literature is growing stronger by the day . IPS Rajbir Deswal, currently posted as DIG, CID at the Police Headquarters in Panchkula, sprinkles satire generously in his work. With more than six books to his credit, besides over 1000 articles including book reviews, this writer cop has carved his own niche in the literary circles. He has many awards to his credit, including the one given by Indian Society of Writers.“Through my works, I generally like to comment on the larger picture of life. My passion for writing is more than three decade old and my works have mostly been a blend of humour, cultural orientation and human relations,“ says Deswal, who is in his 50s. He is at present busy translating the works of Haryanvi poet Lakhmichand, in English.He, however, has written many serious articles on disaster management, DNA tests, illegal disposal of dead bodies and many other topics of academic interest.Meet another IPS officer, KP Singh, currently posted as IG (Training) at Panchkula.Contrary to Rajbir, his literary works have a more academic orientation. And in his works, he deals with issues like human rights, women empowerment, children's rights, state custody laws, police training etc.With about a dozen books to his credit, mostly in Hindi and along with 500 articles in national dailies, Singh has his hands full. In quite a few of his works, he has critiqued the police system as well.I don't want to be termed a critic , but yes I do like to point out the loopholes in our existing system“ says Singh.He further adds, “The Police is supposed to serve the people, but it is no so. The public has to be more demanding and the police stations needs to be turned into a more public friendly zone.“Out of his many books, he has got wide recognition for his works like Samanter Vad, on state custody laws in India, Manav Adhikar aur Police Tantra, a monograph on witness protection. He has been awarded by National Human Rights Commission, Ministry of Home Affairs and many other social organisations.In the end, he says, “Writing for me is cathartic. It is an outlet for the strong feelings that I undergo, whenever I see people become victims of any wrongdoing.“

Haryanvi folklore not explored yet: DIG

By Sushil Manav Tribune News Service
Fatehabad, March 21

The Haryanvi culture is rich with folklores and folk literature but it has not been explored deeply by any scholar as yet. Rajbir Deswal, DIG, CID, Haryana, and a noted writer said this in the Sahityakar Samman Samaroh organised by the Haryana Kala Sanskriti Manch in the local Manohar Memorial College of Education here yesterday to honour scholars of the Haryanvi literature.
Deswal said those who say that agriculture was the only culture in Haryana tend to ignore that the state had its own folklores and folk songs for all occasions.
“Haryanavi swang (dance drama) is another folk theatre that has been very popular in the state in which religious and folk tales are narrated by artists,” he added.
He, however, regretted that very little efforts had been made to go deep into the Haryanvi literature by scholars.
Deswal said he was in the process of translating a few swangs into English and had started with “Hoor Menaka” by noted Haryanvi Ragini singer Dada Lakhmi Chand.
He said it was ironical that Haryana, where “Hoor Maneka” could not be staged for long due to repulsion over the scenes of a father leaving his small daughter in jungles, was witnessing a skewed sex ratio today. This, he said, was a pointer towards the degradation of our social values.
Babu Ram, a teacher in the Hindi Department of Kurukshetra University, and Ram Phal Chahal, a programme director of the All India Radio, were honoured for their contribution towards the Haryanvi literature. Earlier, in a short story-telling session, Roop Devgan, SS Bhandari and Pooran Mudgil narrated their stories.
Dev Raj Batra, president, MM College Management Society; Subhash Sharma, director, of the college; and OP Kadiyan, president of the Manch; were among those who were present. Deswal also released a poetry book called “Roshni Dhoondne Nikla Hun” by Parveen Kamboj on the occasion.

Monday man-datory mun-dane mandays

Monday man-datory mun-dane mandays

फ़रिश्ता कौन हैं, इंसान में भगवान या भगवान में इंसान!

फ़रिश्ता कौन हैं, इंसान में भगवान या भगवान में इंसान!

An Angel is Man in God or God in Man!

Cities are made popular through popular media like films

Cities are made popular through popular media like films etc. Reference to the prevalent culture in the cities and towns helps in making them noticeable and famous. To popularize Chandigarh culture and make it famous as a trendy city besides its city-beautiful tag, you must have some songs attributable to it like as they have for all famous cities, focusing attention on their characteristic features.
जैसे की -आगरे का घागरा मंगवा दे मेरे सैन्याये वादिये कश्मीर तुझे मेरा सलाम है, तेरा ही नाम दूसरा जन्नत का नाम है,ये लखनऊ की सरज़मी, ये है बॉम्बे मेरी जान, जयपुर से निकली गाड़ी दिल्ली चले हल्ले हल्ले, दिल रुबा दिल्ली वाली, मेरा नाम है चमेली मैं हूँ मालिन अलबेली चली आयी मैं अकेली बीकानेर से, झुमका गिरा रे बरेली के बाज़ार में, हम हैं बनारसी बाबु, अन एवेनिंग इन पैरिस, मेरा जूता है जापानी, लन्दन से आया मैं बन ठन के,मेरे पिया गए रंगून वहां से किया है टेलीफून, काश्मीर की कलि हूँ मैं, धकम जल्लंधर पैंदे , और ,,दिल वालों की दिल्ली दिल्ली --But Chandigarh too has a recent song on it :चंडीगढ़ करे आशिकी मुंडा जट्टा दा जल्लंधारों आ के

photohttp://www.chandigarhhotels.info/TouristPlaces.aspx

This Great Scorer in my kinda IPL: His spirit was unbeatable

Love of game

By Rajbir Deswal

With the ongoing IPL hungama,I have more reasons to adore my uncle-- Satbir Mama--, a die-hard cricket fan, in the aindees land of Rohtak in Haryana, close to Virender Sehwag's Najafgarh.Almost bordering on obsession, his love for the game has been a topic of discussion in our family for several decades. He is a walking encyclopedia on cricketers ranging from Don Bradman to Parthiv Patel—scandals and performances included. Since the days of Anju Mahendroon through Neena Gupta, till Sangeeta Bijlani and Nagma, he knows everything. The “finer nuances” of match fixing and the salts’ range of booster drugs are all on his fingertips. They come to him as naturally as an outside edge to the slip. Whenever we needed adjudication on a bet or any aspect of cricket, Satbir Mama pronounces the judgement. It is usually indisputable. No appeal is made against it since his word is accepted as final. Because we all knew that he hadn’t quite wasted those 48 cricketing seasons, excluding those three years of gaining conscious memory. Satbir Mama used to occasionally run away from home to play or watch cricket even at the age of ten. When an adolescent, we saw him curled in his quilt, tuned to commentary on his radio, of a country match in England, at 2 am. I wonder where he got information about those matches. He never surprised us with hur-rays or oh-nos. But he did have the sagacious contentedness of a mighty seer just out of a meditation session. He looked so relaxed after the conclusion of a match as if the US President himself saw no further ambition than being elected for the most powerful office on earth. He shared his happiness with a simple smile. He took no sides. He didn’t predict victory or defeat. He only loved the sport. Much before the advent of TV, listening to commentary on his radio, Satbir Mama could declare the fate of a ball the moment it was released from the bowler’s hand. He had a mental picture of the field and could say with conviction whether a shot headed in a particular direction would reach the boundary or whether it would be caught, for he knew if a fielder had been posted there or not. We were then amazed at his clairvoyance and would jocularly comment on his enviable knowledge of cricket. He could, we said often in a lighter vein, tell which cricketer’s expectant wife would bear a boy or a girl. To make me witness his own performance, Satbir Mama once invited me to a friendly cricketer, we had our reservations about him, but for his encouragement I went to the Vaish College grounds. I had a good look at the entire field but couldn’t spot him. He was neither batting nor fielding, not even umpiring. “What the hell as he invited me for?” I asked myself agitated. Suddenly I heard someone call my name from under the scoreboard. Satbir Mama was there, writing the score. “Hats off to the unbeatable spirit of cricket,” I mumbled to myself.

A bottle of tharra form Ghaziabad & Milady Cologne:Chandigarh to Delhi

Olfactory odyssey
By Rajbir Deswal
I can nose-it-all, travelling from Chandigarh to Delhi. Anyone can smell the difference between Milady’s cologne and a bottle of tharra form Ghaziabad...but to name a town just by the smell of the place with ones eyes closed? Now here’s a challenge. If a Keats were to travel to Delhi from Chandigarh, I don’t doubt that he would prefer to sink down in his seat with a “wake-me-when-ye-get-there” look on his face. But for hardier souls, it’s an interesting experience to be “led by the nose down the GT Road”.Ready? Here we go. You have hardly left Chandigarh when some nauseating fumes assault your nostrils. You have crossed the Industrial Area and will soon be entering Golden Punjab, land of milk and honey. But your olfactory receptors are teased as you speed over the Ghaggar bridge and beyond. No, the air carried the faint smell of citrus wafted from the acres of kinnow plantation. You’re near Dera Bassi. A few more kilometres down the road and the fragrance of flowers will hit you. It’s the Punjab-Haryana border, nicely demarcated with hedges and flowerbeds. Good fences make good neighbours!Thereafter, many miles will flash past before another distinctive smell is picked up. This will be a very kitcheny-hot oil, frying masaalaas, rotis on the tawa. You must be passing the Ambala bus terminus, home of Puran Singh da Dhaba and innumerable “Chicken Corners”?After some 15 or 20 more minutes down the road, the traffic slows a bit. Now, concentrate, mingled with the smell of dust and auto fumes, can you make out a whiff of sandalwood, or mongra? Yes, it’s the agarbattis buring at the mazar of Nau Gaza Pir, near Shahbad.From here up to Pipli-Kurukshetra what you will encounter is the unmistakable smell of frothy sugarcane juice at the crushers. As you near halfway mark on your trip to Delhi, you will again and again pick up a smell of husk and grain-dust. If your nose is acute, it’ll recognise the aroma of rice. Shellers nearby have filled the air with the smell of basmati. Welcome to Taraori, where Indian history took a turn. Here in AD 1191 Mohammad Gauri overwhelmed the forces of the last Hindu King, Prithvi Raj Chauhan, in the Battle of Tarain. You too for your part can question the Thoughts of Americans laying siege to the basmati patent-wise will trouble you if you are pondering over India’s ancient glory snatched. The smell of cow dung and compost manure will soon bring you back to 2001. You have reached Karnal, where the farms of the National Dairy Research Institute and the Wheat Research Institute create a “Smelly Crescent” for you when your vehicle goes round as if via the queen’s necklace.But then, that dust-cum-agarbatti smell again. This has to be Pukka Pul built by the Moughals and the vast Haryana Armed Police Complex is stretched ahead. Further ahead...”Aha!” The manufacturing unit of a drink with “nothing official about it”. Could it be Gharonda? It’s, with the historic serais built by Khan Firuz in 18th century. If you were a shepherd, your nose would start to reveal something sheepish in the air. A smell like a large flock of sheep caught in a downpour. Wet wool. This can only be the Manchester of India—Panipat.This may not be your favourite smell but it will seem like perfume in comparison to the acidic fumes that choke the air a few miles down the road. This one comes from furnaces forgoing iron. Heaven help anyone who has to live in Samalkha.A hint of that Ambala smell returns not long after you leave Samalkha and you can be sure the highway is passing through a corridor of dhabas. Murthal, of course...paranthas and dal fry. Dirty but delicious. Enjoy while you can, because you are only minutes away from a devil’s bouquet compounded of paint, polish, varnish, molasses, rubber, fumes, chemicals and God knows what else. These are, thanks to all the assorted industries that crowed along the road at Rai and Kundli.And then, that familiar smell, that signals home-coming for the average Indian. The odour of the vast toilet. You are on the outskirt of outer Delhi with its slums, which in turn are ringed by fields which serve as al fresco latrines for a population numbering at least half a million. Delhi sprawls out and out, and vies with Calcutta, Madras and Bombay for the title of ‘Shittiest city in the world’. From here on the stench and automotive exhaust will drown out all other sensations. Welcome to the national capital.

वर टाई गो!!!

चलो बाकी तो छोडो जब लोग वर टि गो को वर टाई गो कहते हैं तो मुझे Vertigo हो जाता है !

मज़ा आ गया

बौर्राया आम

सुर्ख लाल ढ़ाक

शिवालिक का कच्चा पहाड़

छोटा नाला

ठंडी छांव

बहती हवा

सरकारी काम

मज़ा आ गया

With compliments from Rajbir Deswal

I never knew not being able to give an autographed copy of HOLYPOL to all my friends I would antogonise half the world. The other half I know will definitely buy HOLYPOL and send me for my autograph...like in the pic here!

When girls fly planes! Have heart (aches?)!!!

Gutsy girlie !!!

by Rajbir Deswal

An all women crew flew from Banglore to Mumbai on the Women’s Day. I had soemone travelling with me have his heart gripped at a similar feat. But before that let me tell you that my orthodox, hard-boiled Haryanvi grandmother would have committed suicide on hearing the news about Bhuri Kalbi’s daughter, surviving a premature birth, slipping through the toilet bowl of a running train near Ahmedabad, in Gujarat. Also, she would have been not at all pleased with tidings from Bangalore about three-year-old Laxmi, surviving a surgery involving separating two of her extra limbs, around Divali last year. “It’s only the chhoras (boys) whom death and disease like to visit and not chhoris (girls)”, was her eternal lament.
My grandmother would also have caught by the neck Dr Alexander Jacob, the Director of Kerala Police Academy I visited recently, for how dare he take pride in boasting, “Out of the sixteen-hundred women recruits, we have 400 postgraduates, including 47 doctorate holders and the rest 1200 are graduates.”
The in-flight experience on my way back had a weakling in me exposed inside out on my “gender sensitivity” — sensitisation can be taught. Minutes before the takeoff, the air hostess manoeuvred hard to close the door when it swung swiftly off the latches. The engineer, a young Sikh, was sent for, who fixed the door. Only thing required was to use some extra muscle and a hard push.
Leaving instructions with the airhostess, he went out to see if she could close the door herself from inside. She could not; but was undeterred in her resolve to do the job trying umpteen times. Foolishly we kept fastened to our seats. Lending a helping hand to the damsel might also not have been appropriate for she had to learn to be enough plucky. When she finally closed the door, all passengers on board clapped.
After about an hour of being airborne, the plane hit turbulence. The passenger occupying the window seat in our row indulged in a kind of self-reassurance saying, “Shouldn’t he have stabilised the plane by now?” “It is not a he, but she! Didn’t you hear the Captain’s announcement in a sweet voice?” I quietly whispered into his ears. All through the flight this man kept praying with his seat kept in upright position and making restless body movements.
Having touched down at New Delhi and the plane being in taxi mode, I had a mischievous but mild dig at my friend, “Was it not a very smooth landing!” “That’s alright but could she have shown enough mettle and grit in case, God forbid, the plane was hijacked?” “Have you washed off your memory the sacrifice of Neerja Bhanot, a flight purser on a Pan-American flight, who laid down her life in 1986, rescuing three children and was posthumously awarded the prestigious Ashok Chakra?” I reminded him. Shame was writ large on his face when he looked at me, grinning.

Also at:http://www.tribuneindia.com/2008/20080308/edit.htm#5

Photo: http://www.npl.lib.va.us/cove/bibl/girls/rosie.jpg

Mind Your Business! Of the mind?

Of the mind’s business

by Rajbir Deswal
Mind your own business” is not generally followed by a pleasing “please,” in tow, but a kind of disgusting gust, bordering on the side of rudeness and riddance-seeking, like swatting a bug with a “Go away or get off !” The true connotations tantamount to almost the expletives of the expression, which eluded me many times I was told to, ‘mind my own business’!
I had never known how seriously did the South Indian matinee idol Rajni Kant flaunt his verbalised challenging aggression, when he let loose that “maaeend it,” on his detractors, thereby flooring them more with the “valour of his tongue,” than the sword of his sinewy gesture, of slashing of the still air made musical by a thichang-phichang variety of the obtaining symphony in sync(-apologies Mr Shakespeare!).
Enlightenment came my way when I had to tell a musician to mind his business (of playing his guitar), on the pavement at Piccadilly Circus, in London. Obviously I had refused to, when he wanted me to, cough up money (that too in Sterling — my mind’s calculation again being at play!) after having shot his video in my handycam. He almost held me by the collar when my host told to him to “mind his bloody business” — one time again.
At home, our own variety of beggar-musicians don’t indulge in that kind of behaviour. Rather, they either ignore you or at the most hurl an innocuous curse invoking the Gods, for they know we understand Almighty, expecting us to “mind our business of charity.”
On a serious note, the business of mind is always productive to a great extent. But unfortunately that is not the intention of the one exhorting a hurl like that, rather, it is to just implore the offender in carrying on whatever business is at his hand, be it counting waves on a seashore or finding forms in clouds in the sky. Generally we refer to the mind’s business as the obtaining occupation.
But yes, if you tell someone to mind his business he may quip, “I have no business to mind!.” And also maybe he has a Freudian slip to blurt out, to make matters worse, like when once President Bush reportedly said in a speech he was giving to a group of teachers, “I’d like to spank all teachers.” Probably he wanted to say “thank” all the teachers; then they could have retorted, “Mr Prez, mind your own business of tackling the Iraq war!”
Mind blowing, mind boggling, mind washing, mind tracking; all these are understandable, but what is ‘mindless?’ — particularly when it qualifies, violence. How can violence be mindless, since a sharp machination and well-orchestrated endeavour go into its execution. It definitely becomes the mind’s business then. Which again means that mind’s business may always not be productive!
Sometimes it happens that you dial a wrong number, but surely the one at that time in your mind, which turns out to be a wrong one, because you were absent minded, and still captured in your own mind’s cobweb — of not letting you go “astray”. Isn’t it your mind’s business that you are minding at that time?
Remember the “absent minded professor” Brainard, missing his wedding to Betsy Carlisle, as a result of discovery of the Flubber? Was he really out of his mind? Or did he take his mind’s business a tad too seriously, in deciding not to marry at all. As I said, the mind’s business could be productive. And counterproductive too.
By the way, my course-mate while pursuing our Masters in English Literature, who whenever empathised with an assuaging ‘“Don’t mind” always quipped with a ‘I don’t have a mind to mind”, is a Reader in the English Department of a university. Shouldn’t I mind my own business!

Also at http://rajbirdeswal.instablogs.com/entry/mind-your-own-business-of-mind/