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जिंदगी बहर नहीं भूलेगी वो बरसात की रात

Teri duniya se ho ke majboor chala तेरी दुनिया से होके मजबूर चला

Tere mere sapne

US immigration & us. They may have been unkind to Shah Rukh but...!

US immigration and us
by Rajbir Deswal
Holidaying in the US this summer, I did keep myself informed of happenings back home in India through the net, but had a total eclipse of the Shah Rukh Khan issue, which on landing I learnt, had put the entire country and Bollywood on the boil, on a “near blasphemous and sacrilegious” act on the part of US immigration.
Being a cop myself, I don’t find any reason why someone should not be questioned, if he needs to answer some queries. And all the more justifiable it is if the man on duty wants him to. But I have had different “tastes” of, and “treatment” from the US immigration, having made it to that country seven times, during the past nearly seven years.
First time at Baton Rouge, Louisiana, I was not at ease with myself to reply to a curt, “What brings you here?” Since it was an official assignment under an Indo-US programme, I had the cheek to tell the officer, “It’s your own country!” He looked up after scanning my official passport and smiled back to say: “A cop! Enjoy your stay!”
The second time I and my wife were questioned on our “visiting interest” in Denver, Colorado. To amuse the officer I said, “We want to have a view of the world from your mile-high city!” “Be careful not to miss out on Molly Brown House at California Street.” He smiled and “stamped” us suggesting a visit to the “Unsinkable” Titanic survivor’s History-home.
Then at Seattle, the immigration officer put to us all the leading questions and answered them himself. “And you have come to visit your son. And he works for Microsoft. And he lives in Redmond. And you will meet your grand-child. And you will do baby-sitting for him...!” All this while he was processing our passports too, which he returned duly stamped. We wondered why do they call the playful activity “baby-sitting” and not “being-baby”.
Entering the US from Canada after a visit to Vancouver, the officer, this time a woman, was informed by our son saying, “Three of us live in Redmond and my folks are from India”. Reacting to this rather American “introduction” of us, Anaysa, our three-plus granddaughter, chipped in, uninvited. “But they are my Dadi and Dadu, Papa!”
“What did the baby say?” Sawan explained it when to the Immigration Officer’s other question he replied that he worked at his West Lake office in Seattle. “But you work in Redmond, Papa!” Anaysa again connected. “Yes Beta, I work from both places. Will you play with your Leapster” said Sawan in disgust. We were let in with the woman officer waving a “bye” to Anaysa who had a longish “baaaye” to reciprocate, without lifting the eyes from her screen.
When we narrated this to a friend there, he came up with an interesting episode involving one of our own desis, who on having been otherwise cleared for immigration, was told he could not carry a basket full of mangoes from the Canadian side.
“Well, can I eat them?” he pleaded and was allowed with a “Here and now”! And the fellow ate them all in a corner, holding each piece the way a baby holds his milk-bottle. With a loud burp he thanked the US immigration for their “kindness and generosity.” Smile SRK, and forget about it!

A glimpse into the small little world of Deswals

Blue Mysteries

Blue mysteries
By Rajbir Deswal
One of the recognised astrologers of the country proclaimed that blue would be the colour of the new millennium. After hearing this, my mind was all set to explore the blue world.
Why is a woman keenly interested in literary pursuits called a blue-stocking? Why is the blood flowing in the veins of members of royal families called blue? Why is the hard-so-swat big fly termed bluebottle? Why is making an appearance or doing things after long intervals said to be doing so, “once in a blue moon”? Why is a product on celluloid with porn details dubbed a blue film? Why is something untoward labelled as “a bolt from the blue”? Why is a blue ribbon always a mark of distinction? Why does a depressed man look blue? Only an athlete representing his institution can wear a blue scarf or a blue cap. Why? Why is a sea-man called a blue-jacket? Why are hardships and inconvenient things termed blue? Why is a loyal member of a party called “true-blue”?
Why, in business and finance, is a stock that is considered strong and reliable in terms of dividend yield referred to as a blue-chip? And in the computer era, why should a blue-chip control your daily routine? Why is a murderer of children called a “blue-beard”? Why is “blues” the nomenclature given to melancholy lyrics which are tales of woe or unhappy love in African-American music? Why does a blueprint deserve that appellation in making plans before they are executed?
That should be enough, I think. And blue is not only blue. It’s navy-blue, sky-blue, ocean-blue, British-blue, Oxford-blue, Cambridge-blue and so on. If I were to pluck a piece from the sky, it might not be blue, yet it looks blue. Nearer home, in Hindu mythology, Lord Shiva is believed to have swallowed the poison that emerged after the sagar manthan. When the poison reached the throat of Shiva, he retained it there because if it had been gulped down, the Devtas residing in his stomach would have been endangered. Hence, Neelkanth is appellation given to Lord Shiva’s throat, which turned blue as a result of harnessing the deadly poison. And since poison, in all its form, when it effects the human body, turns it to blue, no edible stuff was given this colour by Mother Nature. The fathomless depth of the oceans confirms the profundity of blue.
The vastness of the expanded skies proclaims the infiniteness of blue. The blue-shift in the spectrum exhibits its frequency and intensity in a striking manner. And all that is even described as blue, as we have seen, may not at all be blue. Surely then, here it becomes mystifying. Blue is not the colour to eat. Hence, no blue rasgullas; no blue cheese! Any takers!