Skip to main content

Inheritance of Parental Benevolence (and Vice versa)

The dust, the traffic and eternal construction of Bangalore not withstanding, the city to me has always been fun to visit, more so, in summer when the calm and embalming Bangalore whether is even more drastically differentiated than the sweltering and cruel heat of Delhi summer.
A day spent with customers, with absolutely promising discussions over lovely dinner, culminated to the designation of best of the days as I got call from my old college friend while coming back to my hotel, Taj Westend, ensconced in the wonderful forest like greenery.
Reaching back in the hotel, after picking him up , we say down for a long chat over a small drink of single malt. I took a long look at him, he looks a happy man though complains of discrimination at work, on account of region, language and all, worried that his career progression might not be keeping pace with his hairs going silver. I remember, as we chat about his modest career growth and my absolutely absurd financial pragmatism, of the young man I met in the college, pros of having successfully sailed through the dreadful Pre Engineering Test as out was called then, secure in the knowledge of protective and powerful college seniors, something which set him on the path of unnecessary student skirmishes, earning him the sobriquet of Dada, correctly used for big brother in Bengal and elsewhere for leadership role in hierarchy of rowdism. Clearly aware of ourselves being the ammunition to his guns of fury, it was always fun to hear him jump around full of Don quixotic exuberance. Now married to a lovely and calming lady, the man has mellowed down a bit, but still great fun to be around. In a world where it is a pretty common tendency of most people to deny there own past, he always comes across as a sign of self affirmation to me as he reminisced about the past and referred fondly to how he was taken care of by me in those days of young struggle, when ideals were as lovely and as green as the first leaf, dancing in light winds after a summary rain.
I do believe these random acts of kindness which I have indulged into through my life will rub off as magic stardust on the being of my daughter. I have seen prejudice being held about kids who have now grown up, based on the mean and banal or sometimes gracious and thoughtful natures of their parents. It is so very common and every one falls prey to it. For no fault of theirs, kids have to bear the overbearing weight of the ill manner and nasty ideology of their parent.
 It takes immense prodding of your inherent benevolence to step forward and support offspring of those known to never have stepped out to help any one, who have lived an utterly selfish and meaningless life. While we step in with great sense of ownership to claim the benefits of all the good doings of our parents as rightful heir, we fail to acknowledge that we are forced to inherit the fall outs of the inheritance of evil doings and malevolence of their parents. This is a quid pro quo, a long drawn conclusion.
We all know, what goes around, comes around- what we fail to know, that if what goes around does not come around in our own lifetime, does not mean that we have escaped the hard taskmaster that life is, by being a smooth operator hiding all our evil doings and our evil thoughts. It will come around to haunt the unsuspecting lives of those who we leave behind. Being a parent is thus a very important responsibility, you are forever setting your child for doom in the life if you can not undertake the seemingly onerous task of living honorably, with a sense of old-fashioned dignity, for the dark shadow of your life will extend itself into the being of the child. This impact could be a dark shadow which extends onto him or her, or could a magical splendor of the morning sun, depending on how you life your life. Being a parent, trust me is no easy task, and being a good human being is a necessary ingredient of your being a good parent.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

बुद्धिजीवियों की बारात

बुद्धिजीवियों की बारात
शरद जी रिटायर हो चुके थे। आधार का भय आधारहीन मान कर आधार बनवा चुके थे, और पेंशन प्राप्त कर के भोपाल मे जीवनयापन कर रहे थे। एक बार बिहार जा कर शरद जी नरभसा चुके थे, पुन: नरभसाने का कोई इरादा था नहीं, सो मामाजी के राज में स्वयं को सीमित कर के रखे हुए थे। इस्लाम आज कल ख़तरे मे नही आता था, संभवत: इमर्जेंसी के बाद से, इस्लाम सबल हो चुका था, और कल निपचती जींस और लोकतंत्र के ख़तरे मे रहने का दौर चल रहा था। न्यू मार्केट के कॉफ़ी हाऊस मे चंद बुद्धिजीवी लोकतंत्र पर आए संकट पर चर्चा कर लेते थे, जोशी जी वहाँ भी नहीं जाते थे। एक दफे वहाँ के मलियाली वेटर्स को जोशी जी के हिंदी लेखक होने का पता चल गया और उन्होंने जोशीजी को यिंदी यिम्पोजीशन के विरोध मे कॉफ़ी देने से मना कर दिया था। कहाँ शरदजी सरस्वती से ब्रह्मप्रदेश तक लिखना चाहते थे और कहाँ उन्हे बड़े तालाब के उत्तर भाग का लेखक घोषित कर दिया गया था। इस से क्षुब्ध जोशी जी अपने बग़ीचे मे टमाटर उगा रहे थे। जानने वाले कहते हैं कि इसके पीछे उनकी मँशा महान किसान नेता बन कर उभरने की थी, किंतु उन्हे पता चला कि आधुनिक किसान नेता किसानों को …

दो जोड़ी नन्ही आँखें

अनदेखे ख़्वाबों की दो जोड़ी नन्हीआँखें, जिन्होंने स्वप्न देखने की आयु से पूर्व दु:स्वप्न देख आँखें मूँद लीं। जो क़दम अभी चलना ही सीखे थे, लड़खड़ा कर थम गए।
बचपन के घुटने पर लगी हर खरोंच, व्यस्कों के गाल पर एक तमाचा है।

धर्म के आडंबरों से अछूता बाल मन जो मंदिरों और मस्जिदों को अपनी आत्मा में रखता था, धर्म की दरारों पर अपना नन्हा शव छोड़ निकल पड़ा। कहीं दूर,दग्ध शरीर के ताप से दूर, जब यह अकलुषित हृदय पहुँचा तो एक और निष्पाप दूधिया आत्मा दिखी, जिसकी पलकों के कोरों में उसकी आँखों के जैसे ही अविश्वास से सहमा हुआ अश्रु रूका था।

एक दूसरे के गले लग कर दोनों बाल मन दरिया के टूटे बाँध की तरह बह निकले। घाव बाँटे, एक दूसरे के हृदय में चुभी धरती की किरचें निकाली और न देखे हुए स्वप्नों का श्राद्ध रचा।

उसने थमती हिचकियों में अपना नाम बताया - ‘आसिफा’।

और दुख के साथी की ठोड़ी थाम कर कहा - ‘मत रो, न्याय होगा।’

धरती की तरफ़ नन्ही गुलाबी उँगली दिखा कर कहा- “देख, भले लोग लड़ रहे है मेरे लिए, न्याय होगा। तेरे लिये भी लड़ रहे होंगे। तू मत रो”

फिर बोली, “मैं पश्चिम से हूँ, तू पूरब से, पर हैं तो दोनों बच्चे। …

The Myth of Mughal Greatness- Socio-Economic Analysis

Ye imaarat o Maqabir ye fasilein ye hisaar, Mutlaq-ul-hukm shahanshahon ki azmat ke sutoon; Seena-e-dahar ke nasoor hain kohna nasoor, Jazb hain unmein tere mere ajdaad ka khoon. 
– Sahir Ludhianvi
(Maqabir- Graves, hisaar- Fortress, Mutlaq-ul-hukm- Sovereign, azmat- Greatness, sutoon- Pillars, Seena-e-dahar-The chest of the world, kohna- Ancient, Azdaad- Ancestors)
The above couplet from Sahir’s famous Nazm, Taj Mahal, loosely translates as below:
“These grand graves, and these high-walls of the majestic fortresses, Are the pillars of the brutal majesty of the sovereign dictators. These gaping wounds are the ancient wounds on the breast of the world, Mingled with the ugly pus and the oozing bloods of our common ancestors.”
In today’s world where the intellectual mind stands divided on communal lines with even daughters of noted Urdu poets like Munawwar Ranaproudly declaring first to be a Muslim and then to be an India, it is no wonder that these couplets of Sahir, a proud secularist India rem…