October 29, 2023

First of its kind in Telugu literature

We are born with caste and religion. We don't have a choice but they should be as much as they should be in human life. If we always remember the truth that there was once a system without any religion or caste for humans on this earth, we will understand to what extent we should care about religion and caste in life. This is a side. Also, there was a system where people got together and prospered even though there were many religions. That too should always be remembered. This is another side.
At present, there is no time to teach and explain these historical truths to children in schools. Narrowness prevails on all sides. He does not try to understand his own religion in a proper sense, beyond the word of God. Why do you try to understand other religions?
But writers who constantly think to develop humanitarian perspective and increase harmony in the society continue to make that effort through their works. It was in such an attempt that the novel "Vendi Megham" (Silver Cloud) came out from Salim's pen. As the caste system increased, the laborers in some occupations were looked down by the society. Because of this sort of ill-treatment, some people converted to other religions for self-respect.
Salim's Vendi Megham is a novel depicting the lives of the Dudekulas who converted to Islam. I did not know that the Dudekula community people are ironically called Laddhas and Adha Muslims. The novel Vendi Megham depicts the anguish of some people who studied in Dudekula community to call themselves Noor Bashis, and the novel unfolds all the agonies they are going through.

Being themselves Hindu for generations, of course, for self-respect and self-esteem, they accepted Islam, and with the same reason they cannot completely give up some Hindu traditions and live their lives in a wonderful combination of both. When I was a child, Saibulu used to sit in front of the door of the house and sing Tatwas while they were engaging in their work with cotton for mattresses. Why they were singing Tatwas though they were belonging to other fold, I was pondering and clueless then.
Later it came to be known that the Dudekulas were once Hindus. After reading this novel, I came to know that they are Noor Bhashis. I also understand that how they are struggling for their existence and dignity and which made me more clear after reading this novel. Learned about their way of life too.
Salim's Vendi Megham is the first novel in Telugu literature that comprehensively portrays the ways of life of Muslims and the social life of Dudekula community who struggle with poverty. There is a great need for reading such novels and writing more such novels in today's conditions of increasing hatred all over.

--- Rushinarada Subrahmanya Venkateswaran (Original Review in Telugu)
( Ex Branch Manager in The Supreme Court of India)

--- English Translation rendered by Murthy Kvvs

For Copies : Vendi Megham
(Silver Cloud) : A Telugu Novel by : Salim, (Available at Sri Vijayalakshmi Publications, Eluru Road, Vijayawada-2 :
Also available at Navodaya Book House, Kachiguda, Hyderabad) Price Rs. 200/-

October 25, 2023

Kolkata's Pandal Extravaganza Unraveled

 Standing in a queue for four hours to see a pandal (pavilion) in the metropolis of Kolkata is a great experience for many. Getting lost in a rush is normal.

Durga Puja is not just a puja. It is an integral part of Bengali culture. UNESCO has also confirmed the same. Creative talent, artistic values, piety, business, corporate world, employment of common people, a small respite from the pressure cooker life for the laboring masses stuck in extreme labor exploitation, globalization.....all these things have come together and become an integral part of the social, cultural and economic way of life. . People wait for 362 days for these three days. Durga Puja is intertwined with family ties. Another festival in another state is similarly affected. Such is the frenzy of worship and rituals.

If we take it as a normal puja then we are mistaken.. According to a survey by the British Council, this Durga Puja has provided an income of 32 thousand crore rupees to the government of West Bengal in 2019. Rs. 860 crores from pandals alone, 280 crores from idols and 205 crores from lighting to the Bengal government. These are the figures for 2019. We can easily understand that these figures will increase further in 2023. There is a huge market for artists with creative talent and sculptors. The income to be earned can be earned by hard work for one or two months during these three or four days of worship. A few thousand workers will be employed. This is why these workers wait for years. In some famous pandals of Kolkata city, the work will start from about three to four months before the festival. 

 Not only workers, It is a big festival for business community and corporates. This is a great opportunity for huge profits. The world of salons and beauty parlors that have come into light recently has an opportunity to do tremendous business. A few years ago there was no entry of big corporates in Pooja. In course of time, the process of making pujas more beautiful and attractive started. But funds are needed for this. This funding is not possible through subscriptions. 

No matter how much people contribute, it is difficult to raise hundreds of crores of rupees in a short period of time. Thus, the entry of corporates began in such an economic and historical context. Even with increased globalization these corporates need a market. This Durga Puja, which has become fashionable, fulfills that need. So Pandals are built at huge cost in Kolkata metropolis. There will be lighting. Eventually, the government also started funding each pandal committee under some name which means that it can be understood how much it affects during the election season.

And talking about the police force, Durga Puja is a good homework for the police force. The police force shows extraordinary talent to control the huge crowd and prevent any illegal trouble. These three to four days are very successful and very efficient in the extreme rush with the skillful police of West Bengal state.

For these three to four days, the heavy traffic can be controlled very successfully and very efficiently by the Bengal Police machinery without any mishap and without any disastrous consequences. For this, even senior officers come out of the office and AC rooms and work day and night on the roads of Kolkata. Thus, the Bengal Police apparatus gets exceptional experience in controlling the traffic and establishing discipline.

We see in some works written by Sarat Chandra Chatterjee. The zamindars of that time used to perform Durga Puja in the respective villages. It became necessary for the zamindars to provide a small safety valve to the peasants who were subjected to extreme labor exploitation in the historical circumstances of the time. So piety, exploitation of labor and beliefs of the people all together controlled the feudal social conditions of that time. Now Bhakti is not the only one in worship. Humans have sentiments. There is a mix of people. There are pleasures. There are cultural events. The people of Bengal have a heart and a mind. There is politics. Artists are employed.

 The working class who make idols, play bajas (drums), build pandals and provide lighting have a lot of work. This is a big manufacturing industry. The corporate sector gets a platform to reach out to the masses by giving big advertisements. The combination of feudal culture and bourgeois culture for the purposes of globalization, for huge profits, for the sale of cosmetics, goods and services that are not needed by the people, has a way to reach the masses in online and offline platforms on a massive scale. There is a platform called Great Indian Festival and Big Billion Deal where thousands of items can be sold. This Durga Puja has become an integral part of the people of Bengal. Left-wing people and parties also set up bookstores next to pandals and launch books. This Durga Puja has also become a platform for selling books and bringing left-wing literature to the masses. 

 This pooja, which has changed so much, cannot be taken as an ordinary pooja.

But the people of Bengal, who are so madly immersed in worship, do not care about worship and religion. They keep them there. They do not bring worship and religion into politics and divide people into different categories with barriers and disturb people. If anyone provokes them like that, it will not work successfully. That is why in the last few years religious conflicts have been seen in other North Indian states, even if people have been disturbed because they are taking away cows, we do not see such incidents in Bengal. If it happens somewhere, the government will control it completely within two or three days. 

The criminals will be caught. So if we think through Durga Puja that these people are immersed in such great devotion, it will also be a wrong opinion. They enjoy worship. Use that platform. They perform their cultural programs.  And it is forgotten later. They will wait for another year. Moreover, they don't like to be religious fanatics. Majority of Bengalis do not have wrong ideas to attack people of other religions and conspire against people of minority religions. Religions are taken as a belief. They worship. Religions are not allowed to come into real life and social life. 

The communal conflicts that are seen in North India for months are rarely seen here.. If there is a flare-up here and there, the government can control it in two or three days. Bhakti, however extreme, did not draw a dividing line between men. The Muslims of Murshida Bad district are also participating in Durga Puja artistic works. The consciousness of fighting with the British for several decades is in the nerves of the people here. The vibrancy provided by the extremist movement is in the people. The nature of resistance is not lost in the people here. 

If an auto driver leaves carelessly without paying a rupee of balance, he will be abandoned in the southern states, but not here. Where rupee is not important. Theirs is not the blood that tolerates injustice. They will give him another rupee if he says fairly that he cannot give the change. If you show arrogance, harshness in your behavior and words, they will kill you with an argument. The foundations of society reformed by great writers and philosophers have not yet been eroded here. There are still people who take to the streets with banners and protest when there is injustice. 

In the past, left wing sentiments have influenced the people here for three decades. Earlier extraordinary writers like Rabindranath Tagore and Saratchandra worked to change the society by imparting broad sentiments in the people. Those feelings are still there in the people. Although the narrow sense of 'whatever it is, why should I care' thrown by the recent globalization is bothering the youth, corruption has entered politics, but there is no generation that constantly reviews it. From time to time, the respective parties tried to divide the people in the name of religion with religion and hatred politics, but they could not succeed.

--- M. Kesava Rao ( An Academician, Author and senior journalist based at Titagarh, Kolkata, WB)

(English translation rendered by Murthy Kvvs)


October 21, 2023

Maoist Militia Arrested

 Around 15.00 hours in the afternoon, RPC members (militants) belonged to the banned Maoist party were arrested during the vehicle checking conducted by Charla police and special party personnel. All it happened in the forest area of Venkatacheruvu village of Charla mandal. Details of arrested members as follows.

1. Madivi Ganga (25) S/O Muda  R/O China utlapalli, Usur Thana, Bijapur district, Chattisgarh state

2. Madivi Anda (35) S/O Late Bakka, R/O Rampur village, Usur Thana, Bijapur district, Chattisgarh state

3. Kovvasi Mangu (30) S/O Joga R/O Bheemaram vilage, Usur Thana, Bijapur district, Chattisgarh state

The above are militia members in Pujari Kanker RPC and are working for the banned Maoist party for some time. They have been operating as per the instructions received from the Maoist party. Besides, these are gathering people from the villages to the meetings organized by the party by threatening. The trio are providing essential commodities that the Maoist party needed.

These were arrested when they came here to circulate the leaflets in the outskirts of Charla to boycott the elections in Telangana state. Also to spread the info that there will be a meeting related this soon. Chattisgarh top Maoist leaders Commander Hidma, Pamed area members along with Telangana state CPI Maoist leaders Damodar, Azad, Madhu, Aruna, Lachanna, Mangatu, Arjun and others were there behind the leaflet circulation.

ASP of Bhadrachalam Paritosh Pankaj IPS, disclosed that 60 pamphlets seized from them and he also warned that whoever assist the banned Maoist party would be arrested. B. Rajagopal (CI of Charla), TVR Suri (S.I.), R.Narsi Reddy and other staff participated in the program.


October 17, 2023

Print Campaign Materials Only After Obtaining Permission

 print campaign materials only after obtaining permission

MCMC Nodal Officer Srinivasa Rao said in the meeting held at IDOC on Tuesday

A meeting was held with the managers of the printing press regarding the permissions to be taken for printing leaflets, posters etc. On this occasion, he said as per the rules of the Election Association

He said permission must be obtained for every print.

The Election Commission of India regulations say that before printing every campaign material like leaflets and posters used for election campaign, prior approval should be obtained under Section 127 of the Representation of the People Act. He said that declaration of two persons should be given for publication. Name of printing company, cell number on the printed copy. The number of copies printed and the name of the publisher should be given. It has been clarified that action will be taken as per the rules of the Election Commission if campaign copies are printed without permission. 

He said that there should be no mention of controversial statements, religion or caste in the publications printed for propaganda. He said that everyone should follow the instructions of the Election Commission. Said to provide 4 copies before using for campaign. They have to use it in the campaign only after getting permission. It is said that the bills for the claim in the printing should not be given on plain paper, but should be given only on company bill, if it exceeds 20 thousand then payments should be made from the bank account specially opened for the election. Those who do not comply with the rules will be fined 2,000 rupees and will be sentenced to 6 months imprisonment and two. Afterwards, Election Expenditure Control Officer and District Cooperation Officer Venkateswarlu explained the rules to be followed by the printers.

Managers of printers and others participated in this meeting.


October 14, 2023

A Timeless Nostalgia of Music Maestros : Endaro Mahanubhavulu (English) By Tanikella Bharani

  Tanikella Bharani is known for his multi-dimensional genius. He is a theater artist, playwright, film actor, director, poet, singer and many other talents blessed with. He came out this time with a book chronicling the lives of 50 music maestros. Mostly they hailed from Telugus and of course some exponents like Bhimsen Joshi and Swathi Tirunal from other states. All they were either vocalists or instrumentalists enriched the space of both Carnatic and Hindustani traditional music. These were written for a magazine named HASAM in a series and collected into a book in 2005 as "Endaro Mahanubhavulu" in Telugu. It has been received greatly by the readers and has six prints as of 2013. 

Given its success in the vernacular version, Anivikshiki Publishers Pvt. Ltd brought it out into the English language to spread the fragrance of this book among a wider range of readers. It deserves such effort a thousand times. Because the book portrayed the creative mettle and immense contribution of musicians of yore and they are not alive to speak about them. Here writer Bharani has taken up the responsibility of elaborating the lives of such music maestros. Their practice, rendition styles, awards and rewards attained, anecdotes related to their lives and more interesting things were written in this book.

One must read it to know our heritage in music and how tough they get trained and dedicatedly disseminate their art before dignitaries and lovers of music. Tumarada Sangameswara Sastry (1874-1932) the great Veena player, how enthralled Rabindranath Tagore with his mesmerizing unique rendition makes us awestruck. He was invited to Santhiniketan to teach for some time. Sastry plays in concerts only after he rehearsed a keertana a thousand times at home. Can we imagine such precision and perfection at present? This is only one example I cited here and you can read the marvels of many musicians in the book.

Tanikella Bharani's style of writing is captivating and in bringing emotions from the lives of musicians, he showed his prowess as an all-rounder and nobody can imitate such quality from him. Translator Satya Bhavana did a stupendous job. The English version is in no way inferior compared to the original Telugu and I have an opportunity to go through both of them happily. Perhaps all the deceased souls of the music could have chosen the writer to speak on behalf of them, that's what I felt once I completed with the book.

----- Murthy KVVS

(Pages : 259 + 11,   Price : Rs. 250/-  For copies :  All leading book shops & Amazon)

October 12, 2023

Contraband seized


At the behest of ASP of Bhadrachalam, Parithosh Pankaj, the police personnel conducted a check and arrested three smugglers and seized the Ganja at the RTA check post of Kunavaram road, on Wednesday.  PVN Rao, SI and the staff seized it while the smugglers were transporting the substance in two cars. Kandipalli Mahesh and Andasu Harish of Warangal were caught with 40 kgs of Ganja in a Baleno car and another contraband of 38 kgs seized from a Tata Indigo car wherein one Sanjeev kumar Bhatra was spotted. They have bought the substance at Seeleru, nearby Odisha-Andhra border. And three other smugglers have escaped by jumping from the car. They were Pangi Babu, Kura Purna and Suneel and the trio belonged to Seeleru. 

They were transporting it to Hyderabad ,Old city to sell to a woman Nandakka. A case was also registered against the car owners. The seizure worth to be Rs. 19.5 lakh. Two mobile phones were confiscated from the smugglers. CI of Bhadrachalam Naga Raju registered the case and accused were sent to remand.


October 6, 2023

They Made a Mark by helping the distressed family

  Everybody says these days have become a dearth of kindness towards the real needy people. We see how commercial elements crept into our society, yet, there were people with generosity to help others within their all capabilities. Am going to disclose one particular happening which showcased how a group in a small village made a big difference with many others in terms of charity. Cherla is a mandal headquarters in the division of Bhadrachalam and where a Gurkha has been living for decades. He came from a distant Nepal country to earn a living. The Gukha's name was Rajender Bahadur and he was living with his family.

Out of some unknown distress, he committed suicide and the family became helpless all of a sudden. One of the village men, Cheemakurthi Bhadram has taken the initiative to collect possible donations from fellow philanthropists and in the line of it many people responded with a broad heart. There were journalists, businessmen, peasants and many other professionals who came forward to help the poor family. Every day kept pouring donations which were featured in the group of whatsapp. Many have contributed something in their capacity. It was the beauty of Cherla, it's not the first instance of people coming forward to help others.

Senior Journalist Javvadi Murali Krishna has donated Rs.10000/- in cash, 25kg rice and other commodities worth two thousand rupees to his family and the Javvadi family always stands forefront of this sort of charity. Neeli Praksh, Gaddam Mani Kumar, Thotamalla Ramana Murthy, Sivaraju Kishor, Erramilli Kiran, Mehaboob Pathan, Guba Suresh, Lanka Venkat participated in the event. As the news came today, Rs. 73000/- altogether was donated to the distressed family with the help of Mandal people belonging to different walks of life. This is a true example of heralding the legacy of Cherla. Let it be continued forever. 

October 2, 2023

Gandhiji Continues to Inspire Forever

Mahatma Gandhi, the father of the nation, was a great man who introduced the theory of non-violence to the world, said collector Dr. Ala Priyanka. Gandhi Jayanthi celebrations were held today at the collectorate of Bhadradri Kothagudem. Paid tributes to the portrait of the father of the nation and by having placed flowers. On this occasion, she said that whatever Gandhiji said, he practiced in his own life. He believed in the doctrine of non-violence and got support from the entire world, thus he proved the essence of non-violence by which he attained freedom to the country.

Mahatma Gandhi uttered the importance of the villages and country won't progress without the development of villages. He worked tirelessly to eradicate untouchability. Now central and state governments have been striving on the mission of Swach Bharat it was a dream of such a great soul once. He traveled the entire country after he returned from abroad to understand the pulse of the nation. Unhygienic condition in our villages was keenly observed and he enlightened the public about the importance of cleanliness, all the employees of the collectorate should work with the inspiration of principles of Gandhiji, she elaborated on the occasion.  

Additional collector P. Rambabu, PD DRDA Madhusudan Raju, District revenue officer Ravindranath, AO Ganya, district-level officers and the staff of the collectorate have participated in the program.


October 1, 2023

Last rites

 Head Constable Sridevi's last rites completed with official decorations at Kothagudem. Police officials, staff and local people who attended the last rites of Head Constable Sridevi who died accidentally in the line of duty. The funeral procession started from her home and the last rites were carried out by the District Armed Forces, Police who also earlier conducted a parade at the Hindu Cemetery of Old Depot Road via Super Bazaar and fired three times in the air.


September 29, 2023

Jeeva : A Multi- faceted person

 Gummala Venkateswara Rao is a dynamic and multi faceted persona and he is also known as Jeeva. That's his pseudonym he used when he writes his articles. Jeeva is a writer, theater artist, social activist and philanthropist and many to name. He has been donning many hats in his own way. Jeeva born at Kunavaram on 6 June, 1964. He started his journey as an actor with the play of Moddabbaayi in the year of 1979. It was a mono action brought him laurels. Later on, he never stopped with innumerable plays enacted in various characters. Dr.ABCD, Ichata pellillu cheyabadunu, Vintha doctor, Sambhulingam, Prajarajyam, and others are some of them.

Jeeva bagged best actor award in district level competitions in 1989 at Kothagudem. And selected as a best writer when he worked in Adult education project for which he received certificate from district collector. Presented with merit certificates when he worked as a team captain  in Akshara deepam program. Jeeva established  Gummala Seetharamayya  Memorial society in memory of his father and done many programs to help the needy people.

A Tele film Premikula Chattam  produced and directed by him brought him good name. As a president of Bhadradri Kalabharathi, he organized  several hallmark programs like felicitating film legends Nutan prasad and K.Viswanath etc. He has a special place as a poet by writing songs, poems, essays and other articles. His writings have been printed in many prominent magazines. Published several books like Jeeva kalam and Pallavi etc., Received felicitations, awards and titles from many organizations based in both Telugu states.

Jeeva provided dresses, books, slates, rice and other commodities to the needy people under the banner of Gummala Seetaramayya memorial at various people. Conducted a unique feat of classical dancing by the school children for the songs of Annamacharya. It lasted for 13 hours continuously in 2006. With the view of high lighting indegenous folk arts, he conducted Kolatam competitions with the artists from both Telugu states. And it has been done in the main gate of Lord Rama's temple. Let's wish him more laurels in the future by serving the society in all of his capacities.

--- Murthy


September 27, 2023

The Grande Matriarch of Malabar : A Novel by Sajita Nair

 I recently read a book called "The Grande Matriarch of Malabar". This is a novel written by the author Sajita Nair on the Tharavad system which was once prevalent in the state of Kerala. We know very well that matriarchy once flourished in that region. And let's see what this writer from the state of Kerala has written.

This Tharvad culture prevailed among the Nair caste, who were of a feudal community .  Tharavad consists  joint family with a big house, gardens around it, an estate of many acres...the family is headed by a woman. All that house and assets are in her name. They may then be passed on to her daughter or daughter of daughter. Even the husband not needed to give his surname. He does not have any authority over the property. 

I read this novel to know how the relationships are in tharavad type of families . The author Sajita Nair also came from the same category, so I became interested. The total pages around 238 pages. The way of writing is interesting. This is the story of Tharavad of Kalydath family. The head of that Tharavad family was Dakshayani Amma. A Big traditional house, acres of lands and other assets were there. The whole story mostly takes place before the 70s and then slowly comes to the present.

  Rohini is the grand daughter of Dakshayani Amma. She came from America  to sell her ancestral house in Tharvad and encash the property. Most of her family members are already dead. No matter how many times she tries to sell, the buyers back down. People around say that the house has been haunted with the spirit of Dakshayani Amma, which does not allow outsiders to buy the house.

But Rohini does not believe them. Yet she has some experiences when she slept there. Prema , another old woman around, narrates about Amma's life. As part of that explanation, the whole story unfolds. How she lived in those days, how she supported the family with the help of her brother, how she took care of the children, the difficulties of marrying a deaf and dumb daughter, how her son Achutan sacrificed his life all these unfolded in a beautiful way.

The book is available with Amazon.

--- Murthy kvvs


September 22, 2023

Amazing Facts

  Is Ravana worshipped in Sri Lanka ?

There are no temples for Ravana even in Sri Lanka where he was believed to be hailed from. But there is only one place where Ravana appears in Sri Lanka is outside of the border walls of a Shiva temple in Trincomalee where seems to be guarding the temple's Sanctum Sanctorum.

What is the difference between the Sea and Ocean ?

Seas are smaller than oceans and usually located where the land and ocean meet. Seas are partially enclosed by land. Seas are on the margins of the ocean and enclosed by land partially. 

Can a Cockroach live without its head for a week ?

Yes they can. They breathe through little holes in each of their body segments and they are not dependent on the head or mouth to breathe. Cockroaches can stand , react to touch and move around even without its head.


Surprise Inspection

  ITDA Project Officer Pratik Jain said that various measures are being taken to strengthen the education system from the foundation to the students ,studying in ashram schools of tribal welfare department and the concerned teachers should pay special attention to recognize letters in a way that they can understand.

         On Friday, he made a surprise inspection of the GPS School at Rajupeta Colony in Bhadrachalam. After examining the abilities of the students and expressing his satisfaction, he asked each child to write math, quadratic processes, English, Telugu and reading on the board, and he congratulated the teachers as the children were active in every subject and from now on, every child should understand all the subjects thoroughly and achieve good proficiency in the coming classes, he said. To do this, he personally handed over 500 rupees to the concerned HM to paint the green board well.

         DD Tribal Welfare Officer Manemma, Rajupeta LFL HM Basia and others participated in this program.


September 18, 2023

Kaliveru hillocks and Remnants of Pre-historic Dolmens

 Kaliveru is a small village near Charla. On the hillocks of that village, there are multiple dolmens to be seen. I along with a friend called Naren of Charla village visited them some five years back and got a few pics. All they are seemed like pre-historic dolmens. Some were ruined and some were in well -condition. It's beyond my imagination how all these pre-historic remnants have fared by the passing of time. As ourselves history buffs, unraveling possible details in this tiny article.

First of all, what's a Dolmen..? well, dolmen means a  big stone in the form of a table which is erected on the four edges. Human beings in the primitive stage built them. Some dolmens are rectangular shaped and some in round shape. Historians said that they had perhaps been built in Neolithic period (4000 to 3000 BC) and much investigation is yet to be done about their real purpose. Dolmens not only exist in our country, they are seen in Britain, France, Ireland, Russia and many other countries as well.

Let's come to the dolmens of Kaliveru, they are now seen as distorted but rectangular table-like massive rocks are evident. Am saying about the condition of almost five years back. Our people hardly care about historical artefacts which led to distortion of several facts. The baffling question is how those people of some thousands of years back lifted these kinds of super heavy granite blocks onto the hillocks. And these might have been used as graves for the deceased ones. 

Senior citizens of the village disclosed that in their childhood they had played over there and had seen some small clay pots under the rectangular rocks. They could have been served as tombs in those remote times, they opined. In many countries, dolmens are well preserved for researchers and other interesting visitors. Korea is called the capital of dolmens as it has more than 40,000 dolmens. These early or Neolithic age monuments should be preserved as national treasures for future generations.

--- Murthy


Project Officer conveyed festival greetings

 ITDA project officer Pratik Jain IAS, expressed his wishes everyone on the occasion of Vinayaka chavithi festival. It is to be celebrated without any caste, religion and discrimination. He also wishes specially the employees serving the tribals and tribal students in the agency area. According to Hindu tradition, the festival is celebrated with devotion and specific rituals. All the nine days of festival time be filled with various decorations and grandeur. 

He conveyed greetings to all the teachers, parents of students, officials working in the ITDA office and staff in a statement on Sunday.



September 13, 2023

TET Examination

 District Collector Dr. Priyanka Ala said that all arrangements should be made to conduct the TET examination without any possibility of mal practices. A meeting was held with the Chief Superintendents, Departmental Officers and Route Officers in the meeting hall of the IDOC office on Tuesday regarding the conduct of the TET examination to be held on the 15th of this month. Speaking on the occasion, the Collector said that 37 centers have been set up in the district to conduct the TET examination. He said that a seating plan should be prepared for conducting the examination.

 She said that on 15th of this month, the first paper will be conducted from 9.30 am to 12 pm and the second paper from 2.30 pm to 5 pm. She said that 37 centers have been set up for the first paper exam conducted in the morning and 29 centers for the second paper exam conducted in the evening. At Kothagudem, Palvancha, Manuguru, 8,717 candidates are appearing for the exam and altogether  37 examination centers set up in district. 

She said that section 144 will be imposed at every examination center to prevent any untoward incident. The RTC officials have been directed to arrange additional buses for the candidates to reach the examination centers on time. Electricity authorities have been advised to ensure uninterrupted power supply without power interruption. 380 Invigilators, 148 Hall Superintendents, 37 Departmental Officers, 37 Chief Superintendents, She said that 9 route officers and 9 flying squad officers have been appointed.

She said that CC TVs should be set up. Mission Bhagiratha  officials are advised to supply safe fresh water , besides setting up an emergency medical center at every examination centre, adequate medicines should be kept ready. She said that sanitation programs should be organized in the examination centers and kept clean. Nearby Xerox centers should be closed. And cell phones and other electronic devices will not be allowed in the examination centers and they will be allowed to enter the examination centers after close inspection. District Collector Dr. Priyanka Ala clarified that if candidates have any suggestions or doubts regarding the TET examination, they should call the help desk of the district education office or the control room number Sai Krishna 9396654181 and clear the doubts.

DRO Rabindranath, DEO Venkateswarachari, Assistant Commissioner of Examination ,S Madhava Rao, Chief Superintendents, Departmental Officers, Route Officers, Flying Squad Officers and others participated in this meeting.


A Check handed over to the family of deceased policeman

District SP Dr. VineethG IPS handed over a check of Rs 60,000/- to the family members of Head Constable T. Ramachandra Reddy who died due to ill health while performing duties in District AR Division of Bhadradri Kothagudem yesterday at the office of District SP. The SP said that the police officers and personnel should always be vigilant about their health and follow precautions. He said that the district police department will always stand by the families of the deceased policemen. The officials involved have been informed to take steps to ensure that all kinds of rewards are received on behalf of the government as soon as possible.

AO of District Police Office Jayaraju, District Police Officers Association President Srinivasa Rao, Vice President Aesobu, Srinivas and members Sudhakar, Office Junior Assistant Madhu and others participated in this program.


September 12, 2023

Using mobile phone while riding is a fatal attitude

 Using moblile phone while riding a bike has become a common phenomena these days. It seems to be a contagious attitude prevailing among the public, especially youth. Maybe fun on their part but the rider could dash anyone while on his talking spree. How can they enjoy talking in such a pose, clueless. Certainly it would be fatal to not only the rider but public out there. Many deaths or serious injurious have been taking place because of these reckless bike riders.

Even in busy centers, these sort of mobile users don't think about the safety of others or even not bothered to have a little bit of etiquette. Onlookers or passers by get intimidated seeing their audacity to not heed traffic rules to become fatal for the fellow beings. Distraction, that's what happen while one speaks on the phone while riding. Can't they feel it ? they have every right about their lives but who gave them right to claim lives of others or collide others due to their irresponsible riding ? 

Our temple town is also not exceptional in the regard. The busiest Ambedkar center too witness this kind of  mobile users at times. A real scariest lot on the road. Unfortunately most of the youth think that it's a trending fashion and keep imitating others mindlessly. A good attitude to be nurtured and thrived at any cost. But every citizen should condemn this kind of fatal and dangerous habits. Using mobile while riding is a punishable offence according to Motor vehicles Act (section 218(3)177MVA) and penalty for the same Rs. 5000- and this was earlier Rs.1000/- increased five times in 2020.

--- Murthy

September 10, 2023

Cherukuri Sekhar Babu couple Made a donation

 Cherukuri Sekhar Babu and his wife Madhavi of Palvancha donated a sum of Rs. 1,00,116- to Sri Seeta Ramachandra Swamy Devasthanam for the purpose of "Annadaanam". Celestial marriage of Venugopala swamy and Rukmini, Satyabhama would be performed tomorrow (11.9.23) in the premises of Chitra kuta mandapam on the occasion of concluding Bhagavatha Saptaham.

September 8, 2023

Jayanta Mahapatra : A Stalwart in Indian English Poetry

  Jayanta Mahapatra (94) passed away on 27th of last month. Then I was asked to write some sentences, because I remained silent due to my own reasons. Many have written. But I will write now what I think of him. In Indian literature, especially in relation to poetry, there is a trio to say. They are AK Ramanujan, R. Parthasarathi and Jayanta Mahapatra who died recently. Jayanta's name has been familiar to readers of English literature since about two generations ago. Even abroad..!

It was Jayanta who blazed a new path with themes related to his daily life, not the path paved by English poetry written by people like Nissim Ejikel and Arun Kolatkar from Bombay in those days. Jayanta's English poetry was written based on his own Oriya life. He wrote not only poetry but also stories and essays. Out of total 27 books, twenty books were written  in English and seven books in Oriya language.

Indian English magazines started publishing his works only after foreign magazines recognized and published them. Magazines like The New Yorker, New England, Chicago Review, Georgia Review, and The New Republic initially encouraged his English poetry. His writings were well published in Bi Monthly like Indian Literature published by Kendra Sahitya Akademi and in other desi magazines.

He was the first to be awarded the Central Sahitya Academy Fellowship in English Literature. There is a long list of awards and honorary doctorates. Although he was a physics teacher by nature, his English poetry made him special. He started writing poetry very late i.e. from the age of 40. Chandrabhaga, a literary magazine published by him from Cuttack, is a notable milestone in the field of Indian English literary service.

Satchidananda Mohanty, a fan (retired English professor) writing about Jayantha Mahapatra said that his childhood was painfully torn between two worlds, and he used to tell his friends about it in his last stages. Jayantha Mahapatra's grandfather converted to Christianity and used to follow those practices at home, but as all his relatives were orthodox conservatives, he was far away from Hinduism.

The poem "Grandfather" was actually written for their grandfather. It got a good reputation. The gist of it is that he was converted to save himself from a terrible drought in 1866. In those days, food was given only to those who had converted to Christianity in camps to help them from famine. Jayanta described it pathetically in that poem.

He lived for 94 years and seems to have predicted his death in advance. When a publisher told him that I would publish your collection of poems, Birds of Water, in December 2023, he joked that  would I be alive till then. That came true unfortunately. The Orissa state government conducted the last rites with state honors.

--- Murthy 

Peace Committee Meeting

With the instructions given by  Bhadradri Kothagudem district SP Vineeth IPS, ASP of Bhadrachalam Pankaj Paritosh IPS conducted a peace committee meeting at his office with the members of various religious outfits like Vishwa Hindu Parishad, Bajrang Dal, Gosamrakshana Samiti and Bhadrachalam Muslim Jamaat Committee members in view of upcoming Ganesh Celebrations. 

 suggestions were taken into consideration to ensure peaceful conduct of upcoming Ganesh celebrations and precautionary measures were discussed so that no one faces any trouble. ASP advised to celebrate Ganesh celebrations peacefully with devotion and discussed the precautions to be taken in upcoming Ganesh celebrations. Bhadrachalam CI Nagaraju Reddy, Traffic SI Srinivas, Town SIs Madhu Prasad, PVN Rao, Vijayalakshmi, Bajrang Dal Ajay Kumar, Vishwa Hindu Parishad Siddhartha Mekala, Gorakshana Samiti Manikantha and Bhadrachalam Muslim Jamaat committee members Halim Khan, Munaf, Shafi, Abdullah and others participated in this meeting.

#Peace #Meeting #Ganesh #Celebrations

September 2, 2023

Enrich Your Vocabulary

 Thought Leader

This buzzword is generally used to describe someone who is considered an expert in their chosen field and has innovative ideas.

Using in a sentence: He is a thought leader in the marketing space and always has great insights

Reinvent the wheel

A classic buzzword which means to create something new when there's already a good solution. In brief, wasting time creating something though there's already some workable solution.

Using in a sentence: Stop trying to reinvent the wheel and just follow what others already did.

August 31, 2023

Mamidi Harika : A Silambam Sensation

 Silambam (Karra Saamu) champion from our temple town..? Surprised a lot when I first saw the video of her practicing in our nearby grounds, perhaps. Well, the video was sent by my friend Srinivas garu in the last month. And a few paper statements were also seen in which she was receiving compliments from the local dignitaries. In fact, it's really a rare phenomenon being a girl performer of Silambam. She is none other than Mamidi Harika, a resident of Rajupeta Colony, Bhadrachalam.

Harika completed her degree and now keep pursuing library computer science at Vijayawada. And she is practicing Silambam unlike many other girls in our society. Because Silambam is a traditional martial art, generally considered to be a male domain. However, a most welcoming change in all respects. And she achieved more feathers in her crown like Gold medal in the state level silambam tournaments held at Vijayawada and Bronze medal in the National tournaments. In brief to say,  three times international gold medalist and her coach is K. Satya Srikanth.

Harika won Gold medal in the recent South Asian silambam tournaments held at Bangalore in the last week of August. Eight countries like Sri Lanka, Nepal, Bhutan, Bangladesh, Ethiopia, Sudan and Ghana participated including our country. She has been steadily going on to higher echelons with her grit and good practice. Silambam practice makes one bodily fit and healthy. Not only that a self - defense method with minimal weapon. Harika remains a shining example for all the present day youth, especially girls.

Let's know a little bit of facts about Silambam. Silambam is nothing but Karra saamu in Telugu. It was an indigenous martial art, started in our country some thousands of years back, roughly around 4th century BC. According to historians, this martial art had been referred in Sangam literature. Agastya was considered to be the originator of it. Stick or Staff generally procured from the Bamboo, Teak or Indian chestnut wood.

They also used silambam to attack animals apart from the purpose of self defense. It improves flexibility, awareness, strength and muscular cardio vascular stamina in the body. Let many other aspirants come forward to learn this traditional martial art form, a glorious legacy, with the impact and influence of Mamidi Harika.  

--- Murthy

#Silambam#Bamboostaff#Practice #Selfdefence#Martial art #traditional #legacy

New Mahindra Tractor Donated

 A devotee Sri Bansari Das Roshan Lal of Hyderabad donated a brand new Mahindra Tractor to the Lord Rama, yesterday. It was donated to use in the service of Devasthanam works. The tractor worth Rs.7,75,000/- and which has been handed over to Mrs. L. Rama Devi (E.O.of Devasthanam). One more update is that Nitya Kalyanam rituals will be resumed again from Sep 1 of this year and it has been stopped temporarily because of Pavitrotsavamulu. 



August 29, 2023

Immersion of Ramakoti Books

Pavitra utsavaalu (Holy celebrations) have been going on in the  renowned temple of  Bhadrachala Sri Seeta Ramachandra Swamy. Monday, Pavitra aarohanam rituals were done in a great way and they turned eye feasting all over. Harathi has been given after performing special pujas.

Ramakoti Books submitted by the devotees were immersed in the holy waters of Godavari river. They have all been brought to the river with a rally chanting Lord Rama's name, all along the streets. After ablutions being performed with pasupu and kumkuma all the Ramakoti Books immersed into the waters of River Godavari. Apart from it, Mrs. L. Ramadevi has taken charge as E.O. today.    

#Immersion#Ramakoti #books

August 27, 2023

A Commendable Initiative For the Public

 A team of philanthropists named "Mee kosam Memunnaamu" , belonged to the place of Cherla  set an example for the cause of Service by providing food to the needy people every Sunday. Today's program is in line of 93rd week. The people who come to the weekly fair and others are seen queued up to utilize this service and which has been going on without any hassle with the support of like minded good samaritans. Each week is sponsored by a donor , on the occasion of some special celebration, be it a wedding anniversary or a birthday bash or something else. This week is donated by Munagala Krishna and Kavitha Rani of Nagarjuna sagar , on the occasion of their wedding anniversary.

This weekly food donation program gained momentum in course of time. And it brought a special recognition for the place with its non stop activity as there has been no dearth for helping hands to support with every possible effort. Chairman of the organization Lion Neeli Prakash said that we should all share something with fellow beings from what we have, on the auspicious occasions of our lives. And it's an obvious example for the same.

Vice-Sarpanch  Siripuram Shiva, Javvadi Sathish, Doddi Thatha Rao, Suri babu, Ramana Rao, Dodda Prabhudas, Marla Prasad, Karnati Madhu,  Neeli Simhachalam, Tandavarayudu, Gommugudem Chary, Sollangi Nageswar Rao,Komari Srinivasa Rao, Paritala Rama mastar, Bhadram, Potluru Nehru, Marla Raja and others participated in the event.

--- Murthy


Rose Is A Poem in Red (A Story)

--- Dr. Snehaprava Das (Bhubaneswar)

                                                                                (2nd and final part)                                           

                              Wispy figures of white floated around him like apparitions and then drifted away into space whispering softly in a language he could not understand. His head felt as if it was stuffed with cottonwool. The ghost like figures that moved in and out, up and down and around somehow had kept him strapped to a flat metal like thing that felt cool and hard against his body. It was good, he thought, to remain fixed to it, because he felt the earth spinning round through space and feared he would fall off the planet otherwise. He could hear the rustle of the blood as it rushed in and out of his brain, like a raging river of red, and the strokes of his heart that sounded like an enormous drum beaten by giant hands. A hard white light from above penetrated his eyelids and entered his brain blinding him. He felt all his muscles were alive in constant motion, like a hissing swarm of snakes under the skin. 


The elderly man sat on a metal stool by the bed where his son lay motionless, his head swathed heavily in a bandage, several tubes fitted to different parts of his body and connected to a number of electronic devices that let out a constant beeping sound. It had been a week since he was lying there after the NDRF team rescued him from under a pile of dead bodies trapped in the badly dented coach. They had given him up for dead but it was a miracle that he was still breathing. The rescue team had discovered his identity from the Adhar card he had in his wallet and intimated the family. He was taken to the local hospital but later was referred to this hospital. The doctors said he had suffered a brain injury and had little chance of survival. But his mother’s prayers had made him return from the door of death. 

A nurse in a white uniform came in and took the readings on the monitoring machines. The elderly man looked expectantly at her but she went out as silently as she had entered without glancing at him.

After an hour or so the doctor strode in followed by the nurse. He looked closely at the figure lying still in the bed, wrapped in white. He said something to the nurse who nodded. ‘How is he, doctor?’ the father of the young man asked anxiety dripping from his voice.

‘Your son is lucky Mr. Sharma. His vital signs have become stable . He is in a semi-conscious state now. Hopefully he will gain full consciousness in a day or two.’ The doctor replied with an assuring smile.    

 ‘Won’t there be any complications?’ 

 ‘Everything looks okay as far as his physical response is concerned. But we cannot say how his mind is impacted until he comes back to sense. He had suffered a concussion. It might have affected his memory. But nothing can be said at this moment. We have to wait and watch.’

‘What does that mean, doctor? Will he be mentally unstable?’ the father sounded alarmed.

‘Nothing can be said for sure. He might forget the incidents immediately before and after the accident. Certain time-segments might get erased from his memory.’


‘How can it be predicted now? We have to wait, as I said.’ The doctor wandered away to examine another patient. Mr. Sharma sat back on the metal stool and looked at his son, his eyes heavy with unshed tears. 


Roses … Roses ..everywhere.  Red roses, in the colour of blood. It was a jungle of roses.  

  He wandered aimlessly in a vast patch of a jungle filled with roses. His body felt very light as if he was floating in the air. He touched a big one that looked velvety and very fresh. Something pricked his hand and blood oozed out. Then he saw the thorns, pointed like needles. He let out a muffled cry of pain and all the roses began to swing crazily, and dropped the petals till the ground was carpeted with them. He saw a figure standing at the other end of the jungle. It looked like a girl. She was trying to come to him but the roses turned into a red liquid, blocking her. Suddenly a strong gust of wind began to blow and the waves of red liquid rose in angry surges spraying droplets of red around. The girl opened her mouth to scream. But no sound came. She was bathed in red and as he looked on her body broke into petals of rose, thousands and thousands of them. He tried to call her but he did not know her name. He stepped into the red liquid, but his feet slipped and he fell, smeared all over by the red slime.

 His eyes snapped open.

They looked at him anxiously. ‘Call the doctor,’ Mr. Sharma cried. ‘He seems to have come back to sense.’ The nurse who stood by another patient taking his pulse swung on her feet to look at him. ‘Please call the doctor,’ Mr. Sharma urged her. She hurried out of the room. Mrs. Sharma moved close to the bed and called.. ‘Chirag, darling! Say something my baby!’ She whimpered through her sobs. 

‘Move away from him, please.’ The doctor cautioned as he strode in. He examined the young man, studied the readings on the monitoring screens for a long time. 

‘Chirag,’ Can you hear me?’ he asked in a raised voice.’ ‘Blink your eye lids if you can’ 

They stared anxiously at him for a breathless moment. Then they saw him blinking his eyes. Almost simultaneously the fingers of his right hand moved. 

The doctor turned to look at the worrying family. ‘He has gained consciousness. Do not disturb him at all. Let him rest. The more he rests the sooner he will recuperate. I will be examining him from time to time.’ He called the nurse and gave her some instructions. She nodded obediently. 


He gazed blankly at the anxious faces leaning over him. There was a glazed look in his eyes. Some of the faces looked familiar. He closed his eyes and wrestled with his memory to place the faces correctly. He opened them again and glanced at the disheveled woman with teary eyes. ‘Ma,’ he mumbled weakly. ‘Yes, my darling!’ the woman broke into copious tears. He looked at the other faces. He recognized his father and his sister. There were two strangers, both of them in white, a man and a woman. He tried to close his eyes, because everybody seemed to be unsteady and shaking like live portraits floating in space.  But the man snapped his fingers to draw his attention probably and he looked at the face of the man. The lips of the stranger moved as if he was saying something but it was very indistinct. Then he could hear the stranger. ‘Chirag, can you recognize this man?’ He pointed at his father.  Chirag blinked his assent. The performance was repeated with his sister. The doctor raised his face to look at the father. ‘He is recovering nicely. But it remains to be seen how the incident has affected his memory. Let him rest now. Do not disturb him. He nodded at the nurse and brisked out of the cabin. 


    The room was blanched in the light from the big, overhanging bulb when he opened his eyes again. He could hear voices, muffled an unintelligible, around him. But no one was near the bed. It was difficult to know if it was day time or night. He tried to recollect, gathering the random memories that seemed to have scattered in his mind like pieces of a complicated and difficult jigsaw puzzle. It needed much effort and his head began to ache. He let out a soft groan and the nurse who seemed to be waiting and ready, hastened to him. ‘Time for your injection. She loaded a syringe and pushed the needle into his arm. The aching lost its acuteness after a while and he drifted into a sound, comfortable sleep. 


Mr. Sharma looked at his son who seemed to be sleeping soundly. The tubes and the monitoring machines were removed. But he had to remain under observation for weeks, the doctors advised. They were not sure of the degree of damage his brain suffered on account of the injury and the nature of the resulting amnesia. But he was physically stable now, they said. 


His head no longer ached. He wanted to go home, to his parents and sister. He failed to understand why he was in this hospital bed when he should have been in his hostel preparing for the civil services. He decided to ask father why they had to put him in a hospital first thing in the morning and went to sleep. But it was evening when he woke up and father was not there by his bedside. And he forgot to ask him when father and mother returned in the morning. The problem was he could not distinguish between the mornings and evenings, and he seemed to have lost count of the days. 

He tried hard to remember the incidents of day on which he supposed he would have come here. Suddenly it struck him. It must be the Saturday on which he and his friend Kaushik was returning to the hostel after a group dinner. Kaushik was a novice at driving a two-wheeler. He remembered he had cautioned Kaushik to drive the bike with caution. But Kaushik had laughed. ‘Do not get so worked up. I will not bring any harm to your bike. But the road was slippery because of the rain and the bike had skidded throwing both of them into the pavement. He remembered people gathering around them and talking loudly. He felt his body trembling badly from the nasty fall. He had tried to get up but could not move his leg which seemed to have come under the rear wheel of the bike. He could hear Kaushik calling out his name loudly. 

He could not recollect what happened after that as if someone had put a bold full stop there, blocking the flow of memory. He must have passed out, he guessed and was brought to this hospital. But how had he got back here, at his hometown? He was supposed to have been in Delhi. May be his father had got him shifted to this hospital because it was not possible to continue his stay at Delhi. It was difficult to focus. His head began to ache again and he shut his eyes.   

 He groped under the pillow to find his phone. It was not there. He peered at the bedside table and inspected under the bedcover. The phone was not in either of the places. He wondered if the phone was at home. He must ask father when he returned, he decided and closed his eyes.

‘Where is my phone?’ he asked eagerly when his father came. 

‘It is gone, my dear. It was not with you when you were brought here.’ Mr. Sharma said, picking out his words carefully not to stress his son. 

‘Someone must have snatched it from the accident spot,’ he said.

Mr. Sharma looked sharply at him. ‘What accident spot?’ he asked warily, not sure what to expect.

 ‘Where my bike had skidded, obviously. Where else? How is Kaushik by the way? It was all my fault. I should never have let him drive in the first place.’ 

‘Everything is okay, now. Kaushik is fine too. Do not worry about the phone. We will get another.’

Chirag regarded father fondly. ‘He must have gone through a traumatic time,’ he thought. 


‘He is connecting the earlier accident to this one. The train hazard is wiped off his memory.  So also all the events that had occurred after he had met with the bike accident.’ The doctor said. Mr. Sharma looked helplessly at the doctor. ‘ What do we do now? How long will we have to wait for him to get back it all?’

‘No one can say that. He is in a trauma. It is a tricky issue, this temporary amnesia.  He may be able to remember things in a day or two or weeks or even months or he may not remember them at all. Chances are fifty-fifty. Take care of him. Do not mention now about the hazard he had survived by sheer miracle.  Ask his friends and others not to try to remind him anything. That will put him under stress. Trying too hard to recollect things might have a harmful impact on his brain. You have to be patient for the time being. You can reveal it slowly when you find him strong enough to take it.’ The doctor advised.


     He sat by the window in his bedroom, gazing at the street beyond the garden. Nearly a month has passed after he was discharged from the hospital. He was now able to drive the bike. That was one piece of good news in months.

He had reconciled to the fact that he had forgotten certain things because of the head injury he suffered in the bike accident. But a small doubt haunted him. He had had the bike accident around mid-February. Now it was August. Had he been in the hospital all these months? He was getting confused. Was he admitted in the hospital for the second time because of some complicacies developing from the bike accident? what happened in between the two admissions? 

The doctor had repeatedly advised him not to think deeply about anything and remain relaxed. He drank a glass of water to calm his nerves.  

 And he saw them again. The roses, countless roses in red, blooming thickly all around. The air was fragrant from their scents. Chirag was filled with a strange elation. He wanted to move close to the roses, to touch and smell and be engulfed in the velvety red. But the girl appeared at the other edge of the red vista at that moment. She climbed off the two-wheeler she was riding, and walked into the terrain of roses. Chirag could not see the girl clearly since she was at the far end of it, and had a helmet on. He felt a tight band pressing across his chest as he saw the girl moving towards him. He peered into the distance to have a clear view of her, but it was not possible to get it from the spot where he was. The girl moved closer and closer towards Chirag squirming her way through the roses, scratching herself badly by the thorns. He wanted to stop the girl and opened his mouth to call out, but was shocked to discover that he had lost his voice. He stood up abruptly as the girl moved in to the range of a better view and waited in bated breath to have a clear glimpse of her. The girl was about to reach the edge of the rose-tract on Chirag’s side when storm wind began to blow. The roses swayed crazily. The rose bushes got entwined into one another and the flowers, as if slashed by a razor blade, were torn off them.  Then they began to swirl above in a spiraling mass of red. The girl screamed wildly as the red vortex sucked her into its center. Chirag closed his eyes and ears tightly.

A few minutes passed. A motorbike vroomed down the street jerking him back to reality. He opened his eyes cautiously. The jungle of roses had vanished. So too the girl. Everything looked normal. Who was that girl? And why were there so many roses, in such a brilliance of red? Why does he see them time and again? Chirag had no answer to that. 

He tried hard to remember the months that were erased from his memory. What had happened in those months? His family did not want him to take any stress in trying to recall the past. ‘You will remember them slowly. Do not put much effort. It will harm you more than help by doing so.’ His father and mother would advise. 

Random patches of memory floated in and out of his mind as time progressed. He could see a garden filled with trees and flowers and hear a koyal’s cooing. Then suddenly the sky will be overcast and it will start raining. A girl, her face partially hidden under an umbrella would come out from behind a tree and walk out of the gate. She would stop for a brief moment at the gate and turn. Chirag tried to get a look at her face but the umbrella hid it. 

 There are times he would hear an earsplitting metallic sound like a thousand bullets hitting at the same time a huge wall of iron. It would be followed by the loud screams and wailings of people, and the blare of several automobiles. 

  The picture of a small shade like structure would come returning to him. A bus will glide in and a girl clutching a stack of books and copies to her chest would climb into it and wave at him. Chirag would struggle to get into the bus but it will roll forward flinging him back to the shade, the girl would hide her face behind the books and giggle.         

                    Scattered, haphazard, amorphous images swimming aimlessly in and across the flow of his thoughts. Each one of them is a piece of a baffling jigsaw puzzle, looking strangely familiar but never falling into the right place. 

  Another week passed. 

 Sitting at home all the time was making him claustrophobic. He knew he was now physically strong enough to move about. ‘I may find about the clue to unravel the mysteries of my hidden past outside this house.’ Chirag thought. It took a lot to persuade his parents to let him drive the bike but they agreed in the end. But he was strictly warned to get back home before it got dark.

 And so, after more than a month, Chirag drove out of the seclusion of his home to the outside world to explore new meanings of life, to search the key that would open the lock to the closed chamber that held his lost days. 

 It was a pleasant experience, to move out to the open, to have the feel of the sunshine and the fresh breeze across the face. He was not well conversant with the roads since he used to live in Delhi. But it was his hometown and held a special attraction for him. He drove around for some time, undecided, and then without thinking, swung the bike to another road that looked familiar. He drove slowly along, guided by an unexplainable urge. There was a shade like structure to his left, and the picture of a bus on a circular board was fixed to one of the posts. Must be a bus stop, he guessed. There were a few steel benches inside the shade. At that hour there were no passengers waiting for the bus in the shade. He stopped and looked at the empty benches. He sat astride the bike for a longtime, looking around, not sure what was he waiting for and then moved away from the place. He took a turn and drove along a wide road. He drove nonstop for half an hour or so, and noticed the traffic was thinning gradually. There was a restaurant and an ice cream parlour on the left side that looked familiar.

 He stopped by the ice cream parlour and looked around uncertainly. A young man came out, his face beaming. ‘It is a longtime since you visited here last, sir. Were you not in the town?’ he asked. Chirag looked closely at the young man, trying to recognize him, eager to ask him how did he know him, but decided against it. It was a queer experience, he thought, to stand facing someone you do not know saying he knows you.  The young man waited expectantly for an order.  Chirag asked him to get a chocolate ice cream, just to escape the embarrassment. ‘Chocolate?’ The young man looked surprised. ‘But you always preferred the strawberry flavour,’ he said. ‘Yes, but now I like the chocolate flavoured ice cream. Get me one, please.’ He said, not interested to linger on the subject. The young man regarded him briefly and nodded. He went inside and brought him the ice cream. Chirag was not keen at having an ice cream at that time but he finished it just because he did not want to make the young man suspicious. He paid for the ice cream and drove off. The sun had set. It was getting dark. Chirag decided to go back home.  


He lay in the bed, his gaze fixed at an invisible point in the ceiling ruminating over the incidents of the day. Why was he automatically drawn towards that small bus stop? Is it connected in some way to his past life? Then there was the young man in the ice cream parlour. Chirag was sure he did not know the young man, but the young man knew him. He even knew Chirag’s choice ice cream flavour. How? When did he visit the ice cream parlour? It was all so very disturbing. The doctor had strictly advised him not to overthink. He took a pill which the doctor had said, he could use to calm down his jittery nerves. A little after sleep overcame him.


 His head was heavy when he woke up in the morning. But there was a restlessness in him that urged him to go out exploring. It was early morning and he doubted if the ice cream parlour was open at that hour. He was urged by an irresistible desire to inquire from the young man about his earlier visits, to know more about the days that had gone into oblivion. 

He moved out after taking his breakfast promising his mother that he would return by lunch time. But he did not drive straight to the parlour. It was at the other end of the town and it took nearly half an hour to reach there. He wondered what was the need for him to visit a shop so far away just to have an ice cream. It was odd. 

He drove around for a while. Suddenly, as if led on more by an instinct than conscious wish, he turned the bike to a road that was lined by tall trees on both sides. There were not many people on the road. Nor were there many shops or office buildings along it. He drove along till he reached a sharp bend to the right. He swung the bike into the bend. He saw a large arched entranceway. Boldly embossed and painted on the arch, was the name of the institution. ‘Government College of Arts.’ Chirag let his gaze travel beyond the entranceway. A gravelled path led to the main building of the college.  Groups of boys and girls in college uniforms, most of them carrying sling bags over their shoulders were moving about the campus. Chirag stopped by the entranceway and looked around, puzzled why the place appeared vaguely familiar to him. Students were moving in and out of the entrance way. Chirag felt awkward. He hoped, he did not know why,  to see a known face but there was none. He started his bike and moved off the spot. 


The next stop was the ice cream parlour at the end of the town. 

 The parlour was crowded by young men and women. The young man whom he had met the previous day gave him a welcoming smile. ‘Would you have a chocolate ice cream, sir? Or any other flavour?’ He waited for Chirag to make his order. Chirag smiled broadly at him. ‘It has been indeed a long time since I came here. I was not here. When was it I last visited your parlour?’ Chirag asked trying to sound casual, careful not to rouse any suspicion in the boy’s mind. The boy thought for a brief moment. ‘It was in the month of May, sir. Last week of May. You and madam had come together. I had served you cup ice creams. You had given me a twenty-rupees tip.’ 

This was strange. Which madam the young man was talking about? Did he visit the parlour with some girl? Who was she? He had no way to know. The waiter boy might be suspicious if he asked more about it. He decided to let the matter drop at that.

 He had the ice cream, made the payment, gave a tip to the young man, and left. ‘Come again sir,’  the young man called from behind. 


Chirag took out his phone from the pocket and checked the time. There was enough time left for the lunch hour. The weather was pleasant. A gentle wind ladened with the wet fragrance of monsoon rustled through the leaves of the trees the road was lined with. The fields that stretched beyond the edges on either side of the road were lush green. He looked up. There was no sunshine. Grey clouds sailed merrily across the sky. The cool breeze lifted his spirit. He decided to drive forward, and enjoy the blissful serenity around. 

 He spotted the park to his right after a five minutes-drive down the partially deserted road. Without thinking, he pulled up in its front, and getting down walked towards the gate. It was a big park, but was tastefully designed and well looked after. To the left of the entrance there was a cabin like structure with a sloping roof, its incline extending over the small porch in its front. A man in the uniform of a security guard sat in a straight-backed chair, his eyes glued to the screen of a mobile phone. A wooden table stood to his left on which there were some notebooks and a sheaf of paper. A stone, that was kept on the notebooks and papers, served the purpose of a paperweight. The man cast him an indifferent glance as he entered the park and then went back to watching the mobile screen. 

 Chirag moved inside, looking here and there, impressed by the way the park was maintained. There were big leafy trees along the walking track and around, and swings and stone benches painted glossily in white, orange and green under the trees. At the far end of the park there was an open gym fitted with several equipment for physical workout.    

The park was almost empty at that time except for the gardeners who tended and watered the plants. A couple of labourers worked at a seedbed with a soil sifter, and another one was cutting the grass with a pair of gardening scissors.

The environment was familiar. He seemed to know his way around the place. Chirag wondered if he had ever come here earlier. He seemed to know the place well, had seen everything there were before. He even knew which area in the park was the most secluded.       

He stepped past the gardeners into a shady spot in the depth of the park, partially hidden by a group of topiary plants. There was a bench painted in green and white. Chirag sat down. He felt at peace, sitting there, in the silence of the solitude, listening to the soft murmur of the leaves. A lone koyal, that had perhaps outstayed its visit cooed from a nearby tree. There was a melancholic lilt in its voice and it filled his heart with a strange sadness. But the restlessness of the previous day was gone. The soft breeze caressed his tired limbs and lulled him to sleep. He dosed off. 

The phone rang, jerking him out of sleep. It was his mother. She sounded worried. ‘Where are you son? It is after one o’clock. I am waiting for you. Come soon.’

 He got to his feet. The koyal was still there repeating at intervals the melancholic note. He felt mysteriously connected to the place. He decided to return to the place the next day and moved out to the road, to the place where he had parked his bike. 

He drove to the park the next day, and the day after and again after a gap of a couple of days. He felt more and more drawn to the place after each visit. He thought the security guard, like the waiter at the ice cream parlour would recognize him had he visited the place earlier. But there was no sign of recognition in the security guard’s face. The young waiter at the ice cream shop had mentioned a ‘madam’. Who was she? Chirag racked his brain to remember but drew a blank. It was not possible to  inquire from the waiter without raising his suspicion.

And why did the park at the far end of the town, as if by some inconceivable magical power, pulls him towards it?

It puzzled him. 

But he did not stop visiting the park. He felt restful and calm there, filled with a contentment he had never known before. 


It rained hard that afternoon. Chirag was about to start for the park when the rain came accompanied with a strong wind. It was sunset time when it stopped raining. Chirag dropped the plan and sat down by the window. The air that carried the scent of the post-rain wetness had a deep-set pathos in it.  it made him depressed. 

He decided he would drive to the park early next morning. 


The park was crowded with the morning walkers and joggers at that time. Kids were playing at the merry-go-round, the seesaw, the swings and the slides in the playground area. It was not so peaceful as it used to be at the later part of the morning. Chirag made his way to the bench amidst the topiary plants and sat down. He took out his new mobile phone and studied the social media sites of his choice. Two girls of around six or seven, giggling happily, each carrying what looked like paper on which some picture was drawn, ran to the spot where he sat. They sat down on a nearby stone bench and looked at the pictures. ‘This one is better than yours, ‘ one of them said. ‘Mine is better,’ the other protested. ‘Show it to me,’ the girl who looked a bit older than the other tried to pull the paper from the hands of her friend. ‘No,’ the younger girl squealed and snatched her hand away and lifted it high, to keep the paper out of reach. Chirag cast a cursory glance at the paper the girl held above her head.

 And his heart gave a lurch. Drawn on the paper was a beautiful red rose, on a stalk that sported two young leaves painted in green. He felt his head spinning. He knew the picture and the person who painted it. Vague patches of memory, blurry and indistinct, sliding out as if from a mystery-montage, began to drift around, frantically struggling to move to the right space. He was sure now that he had painted the picture. But when? And how did it reach this place? Who had brought them here? Questions and questions, several of them, without answers. He could feel the sweat beads on his forehead and behind his ears.  He stood up and moved to the bench where the girls were sitting. His legs were unsteady and his breath came in irregular gasps. 

‘Where did you get them?’ he asked them pointing at the pictures. His voice was a croaking whisper. The girls looked up at him, wide eyed. But they did not say anything. ‘Where did you get the pictures?’ he repeated, running out of patience. ‘From the guard uncle,’ one of the girls said and ran away from the place, her friend at her heels. 


Chirag returned to his bench, shaking badly. He waited for his legs to get steady and his breathing normal, and then moved towards the guard’s cabin. The security guard was in his chair watching something in his mobile phone. He regarded the disheveled Chirag who walked clumsily towards the cabin, curiously. Chirag waited for a moment before speaking, trying to regain his composure. He was not sure if he could trust his own voice. 

 ‘I saw two little girls playing there,’ he said pointing towards the depth of the park. ‘They had a couple of papers, a red rose was painted on each. On asking they told me that you gave them the paintings. Where did you get those paintings of the roses?’    

The security guard stared at Chirag, puzzled.

‘Someone visiting the park perhaps had forgotten them here. The guard who works here the day shift might have found them and brought them here. They were on this table when I arrived in the night. The girls saw them in the morning. They asked me for the pictures. I had no reason to decline.’ He paused and looked questioningly at Chirag.

‘What is so special about them?’ He asked.

‘Who had left them here? Do you know him?’ Chirag asked anxiously not caring to reply the guard.               

 ‘I wouldn’t know sir. I came here at about eleven last night. I do the night shift here. Perhaps the other guard would know.’

‘When will he come?’ Chirag was impatient.

‘Not till eleven, sir. We both are new appointees here. We work in rotation. He, from eleven in the morning to eleven in the night and I, the other way round, from eleven in the night to eleven in the morning.’

Chirag checked the time in his phone. It was only nine. There were still two more hours before the other guard arrived. He took out a fifty rupee note from his wallet and handed it to the guard. ‘Please get me those paintings from the girls. They are very important for me,’ he requested. It might be the sincerity in Chirag’s voice or his distraught looks, or the money, but the guard looked influenced.   He nodded and moved into the deep inside of the park. 

Chirag stood waiting, his thoughts racing, crazy and directionless. 

The guard returned after a few minutes with the papers. ‘It took some effort. But I managed to coax the girls to part with them.’ He said smiling broadly. He handed the pictures to Chirag. 

He decided to get back home and return after having lunch. His mother would be worried if he remained out of home till long. He folded the papers and put them in his pocket. Nodding his thanks to the guard he came out of the park. He could sense the curious gaze of the guard fixed on his back. 


Chitra counted the paintings for the third time. There were fifty-one of them. But now there were only forty-nine. Where are the rest two? She had treasured them securely in a folder. They were the only mementos of Chirag she had with her and were priceless. She valued them more than her life. The paintings of the roses somehow, filled the grey emptiness in her. Her lips parted in a doleful smile as she remembered the painting of the rose he had gifted to her for the first time, and the lines written under the rose,

                               When I saw her for the first time that day

                               A red rose bloomed in my garden of grey;


She was feeling desperate now. Where had she lost the pictures? Not in the PG department of her subject in the university, she was sure of that. Then she remembered. Must be in the park. She visited the park most of days, after her classes were over and sat on the bench amidst the topiary plants till sunset, ruminating over the sweet moments she had spent with Chirag there. She carried the folder containing the paintings with her to the university, and to the park, not willing to part with them. She would take out the paintings and read the poems again and again, and tears would stream down her eyes. 

It was more than two months after the train hazard that snatched Chirag away from her. 

She was coming out of the trauma very slowly, and the corroding pangs had lost a bit of their acuteness, but the passing time had not helped any to fill the vacuum in her caused by the loss.


She remembered clearly that she had all of them with her, securely kept in the folder, when she last visited the park. It was on the day the storm came.  She had taken them out of the folder when the strong wind began to blow. She was sure that the wind had blown them away. They must be lying somewhere in the park, provided the sweeper had not thrown them away. She hoped to God that the pictures would be still lying under the bench or somewhere near it, out of the sight of other visitors.  

  She would go to the park today after the classes and inquire from the guard, she decided.  


      Chirag took out the folded papers from his pocket in the seclusion of his bedroom. He did not have any doubt now that he had painted the roses and written the lines too. He read and re read the short poems under both the paintings.

                         The poem is a rose that blooms for you

                           In the garden of my love,

                        Soft and bright, like a passion sweet

                            It smiles in its red orb;  

There was another:

                          Not raindrops but they are the tears 

                         The lovelorn sky sheds,

                      When they touch its drooping petals

                       The rose also weeps in red;

The lines of the second poem were smudged, as if someone has wiped away a drop of water that might have accidentally fallen on them. 

The disjointed pieces of the puzzle were stumbling into place, slowly, haltingly. But the image in the puzzle was still wrapped in a haze of smoke. Then, there was that girl on the outside edge of the jungle of the roses, and he was sure that he knew her, closely and intimately. Her face was blurred, making recognition difficult.

What was the smudge on the poem? A drop of water? A drop of tear??

He did not know why but the picture of the roses and the poems filled him with a deep sense of loss. His heart felt heavy as if he carried a century old sorrow there, and his eyes brimmed with tears.    


  It was after two when he returned to the park. The previous guard was gone. There was another one, who stood in the small porch looking into the park. He turned as he heard Chirag opening the front gate. ‘It is hot in the park now, sir.’ He said smiling politely. He appeared to be an amicable character. Chirag took out the papers and showed it to the guard. ‘Did you find these?’ ‘Yes, the guard answered, looking a bit surprised. ‘What….’ Chirag did not wait to listen to him. ‘Where did you find them? Who had brought them here? His voice rose a pitch higher in excitement.

 ‘A madam comes here often. She sits alone for a longtime on a bench there,’ he pointed towards the topiary plants in a distance. ‘I have seen her more than once looking at such pictures. She was here the day the storm came, leafing through a bunch of pictures like these. Perhaps these two were blown away by the wind and she had not taken note of it.’ 

Chirag listened intently, his eyes staring into the guard’s, a shiver creeping into his nerves. 

‘Does she come here every day?’  his voice was scarcely above a whisper. 

 ‘She comes often, and at a particular time, about three thirty in the afternoon.’ The guard answered. There was an odd gleam of curiosity in his eyes.        

  ‘She was not here yesterday. I think she will turn up today. She is a frequent visitor of this place. You may meet her if you wait till that time,’ the guard added, trying to be helpful.    

 ‘Yes, I think I should do that.’ Chirag said and turning, strode into the inside of the park, leaving the guard staring at his back. 


Chitra arrived at a quarter past three and moved towards the guard’s cabin. 

 ‘Hello there.’ She called looking at the guard’s cabin. No one answered. She was about to step on to the porch when she saw the guard approaching from inside the park. 

‘I was here day before yesterday.’ She said without a prelude when the guard neared. ‘I had some pictures with me and I was putting them in a folder when the storm wind blew. Some of them were blown away in the wind. Have you come across them by any chance? They are really important for me.’

‘Were they pictures of roses?’ 

 ‘Yes, yes,’ Chitra nodded excitedly. ‘Do you have them with you?’ 

  ‘I had. But a young man had taken them away just now. He too said they were important. It beats me what is so special about the pictures.’ The guard said.

‘Young man? What young man? Do you know him?’ Chitra asked desperately.

‘Do not worry madam,’ the guard said quickly, moved by her anxiety. ‘He is still inside the park. You may find him by the topiary plants.’

Without waiting, Chitra turned on her heels and brisked into the park. 


Chirag sat in a bench and looked ahead at the path leading to the spot amidst the topiary plants. His heart was beating fast. Half an hour passed.

He saw a girl approaching. She looked vaguely familiar. 

And the truth struck him like a bolt of lightning. It was the same girl outside the terrain of roses.  

The girl, now without her helmet on, was moving slowly towards the bench Chirag sat on.  

Chirag sprang to his feet. ‘Chitra!!!’ He cried out hoarsely.

Chitra stopped dead, and stared ahead of her.

Then she ran towards him, flinging her sandals away, her hair blowing crazily about her face, tears rolling down her eyes. 

He trembled violently and his head reeled. 

He lurched forward to get closer to the figure of the girl running towards him.    

All the elusive pieces, now out of the smoke haze, hurtled to their places in a blink, making it a whole and bright picture.  

He stumbled and fell into the embrace of Chitra, sliding down and down into the luminous alley of his missing past.

                                                                   --- * ---

Click here for the First part of the Story