Conversing With Myself- VII

Date:- undated
Place :- Zaranj, Afghanistan.

Home is where heart is.

Roads were many,
And forked at places.
Lest I loose.
Took the route,
To the home that led.
Leaving behind,
Works and worries,
Where it belongs.
I tread on.

Lively is my step,
Gloom and worry,
Pain and weary,
Of body and soul,
Fades away,
As my spirit rise,
And home beckons,
I tread on.

Tinkling sound,
Of,
My little boy,
And,
Mirthful laughter,
of,
My little daughter,
Sings in my mind.
Heavy was my heart,
And,
Lighter it grows as,
I tread on.

I long for;
Tender arms,
And long feet;
That embraced my body.
Delicate fingers;
That pricked my ears.
Nimble palms;
That searched my face.
I long for those smiles;
Which tells,
Of thousand mischieves,
I long for tears,
That adorn,
Childs tender face.
That gleeful laughter,
And tenderly tear,
That rankling cheers,
Beckons me my dear.
I tread on.

Long is the way,
Longer still I have waited,
For my home and hearth.
Deeper and deeper,
My longing grows,
For a glance,
Of my loved ones.
Cold food and gloomy weather,
In a strange land,
Tells the tales,
Of love and warmth,
That home is made of.
I tread on.

Though,
My feet crumples,
And head spins,
My spirit soars,
Beyond mortals reach.
Over the mountains,
And the hills,
Seas and rivers,
Across the oceans,
And desserts.
With wings,
Of wind and light,
I shall be home dear.

And so sulu sings to himself.

On retiring.

I have always looked towards retirement with great expectation. Retirement to me is finding time and resource to do such work which will help me actualise desires of my life without expecting back money or honour. It is a freedom from our necessity to work for living, for food, cloth and shelter. It is ability to devote my time and energy in works that has been closest to my heart. It means working and spending my time for sake of love for the work, for sake of happiness and contentedness from the realisation that I am part of that creation which is free from compulsion of finishing a job. Instead I am bonded to desire for finishing the job because of love for finishing that job. Thus retirement to me is not getting freedom from work, but entering that sphere of life where I can devote to such work where I can give hundred percent of my time and energy.

While I was in Afghanistan, my boss retired. I drafted a letter on occasion of his retirement, but failed to send it because I had second thought about its appropriateness. I am reproducing it now, and if he happens to see this, let me tell you this is straight from heart. Comments are welcome on the appropriateness of the letter.


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Dated :- 29.11.2006
Place :- Zaranj, Afghanistan.


Dear Sir,

As you embrace your new phase of life, that leisurely phase of your long and active life, a period of life that you can control its pace, decide its texture and fill it with whatever colour you wish to fill it with, I wish you all the happiness and contentment that life can bestow.

We as a human have a finite life, but the joy and happiness that life gives is infinite. It is not only the number of years that counts, but what counts more is how much love, joy and happiness one derives along the path of his life.

More than what you have done and achieved, is how and why you have done that defines one’s contentment.

May you live your life with contented heart, tranquil mind and still soul. May you find happiness and joy in each day of of your retired life.


Your’s Sincerely,
Dani Salu.

Conversing With Myself - VI

Date:- Undated
Place:- Zaranj, Afghanistan

Let the life flow .........

Be slow and steady,
In whatever you do.
Take time to think.
Take time to talk.
Take time to act.
This way;
You will lead a life of contentment.

So says sulu to himself.

Conversing With Myself -V

Date:- 28.11.2006
Place:- Zaranj, Afghanistan

One man comes and says do this way. Another man comes and says do that way. First man may be right from his point of view and wrong from second person’s point of view. If the first person carried out the work as per his idea, most probably, he would have accomplished the work in the best possible manner. If the first person carried out the work as per second person’s idea, most probably he would not have accomplished the work in the best possible manner.

If the second person carried out the work according to his idea most probably he would have accomplished it in the best possible manner. If the second person had carried out the work as per the first man’s advise, he would find the manner unfamiliar and foreign and might not be able to accomplish the work in the best possible manner.


This shows that there is no universal way to do a thing, but there is universal philosophy how best one can perform his task. And that philosophy is realizing our own strength and attitude and aligning our effort in that line while performing our task. Each of us are unique and imbued with equal potentiality. The secret to success is identifying that unique quality and nurturing it.

Therefore, whenever you have a task to perform, find the best way you will enjoy doing it. That way, you will be romancing your work instead of being tasked to carry out the works which are foreign to you.

In the end, shall we say there is more merit in an individual’s attitude towards his work than the starched and well laid out ways of doing the work.
Work on your attitude man, on your attitude.

So says sulu to himself.

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In this section I will share some innocuous conversation I had with myself and which was jotted down in my diary.

Ordinary morning in a ordinary man's life.

Morning dawned with cry of my two month old daughter. As I rub my eyes open, I hear my wife soothing and cuddling our dearest latest darling ( we already have three dearest darlings) with some sweet nothing songs in her gentle voice. As soon as she sees me, I am handed over the charge of the little angel and she pushes off for .... I rather say relieved herself of little angels' care and leaves the room. No words said. Simply understood that she had a tough night, while I remained in a dream world, oblivious of what the mother and child passed through the night. Still my eyes half closed, I hold my cutie pie. She cuddles up to my chest and her soft little fingers curls around my arms. Such tenderness, such softness, such abandoned helplessness brings freshness of the morning to my mind and brings back to life that were dead and withering in my grey mental self. If youth is the spring of life, infancy is the source from where the life begins its journey, and, it is the source of that ephemeral love that sustains and propels our life towards creation and sustainance of this whole universe of human civilization.

BANG ! I hear the bathroom door and wake up from this philosophical stupor to the reallities of life. I can hear my wife waking up my other dearest darlings with occasional sound of whacking up of their bottoms. This is it, I tell myself. Soon the house is filled up with noises of my favourite devils, their fights for the bathrooms and tooth paste, sounds of joy and excitement interspersed with occasional sob or cry. Than there is that deafening noise of my wife shouting at one of the child for his antic of remaining asleep even while brushing his teeth. Tempers cool down and those shouts are things of past and the children are cajoled into dressing up their school uniforms and finishing with their breakfast. My little darling also has her way of ensuring her share of attention by wetting my pants. At this, my four year old daughter Rinyi breaks into peals of laughter and other family members joins with giggles and smirks. At my expense, otherwise tense and serious atmosphere is loosened and the kids are all ready to take on the new day.


Father poor, you all may say as I am asked to dress up quickly and walk down our children to their new school by their mother. The power and terseness in her command would have shamed the best of the army commander. I dress up and gulp down few sips of my morning tea as she stares at the watch on the wall and me as if daring me to be late. Well, well, well .... I tell myself and leave my tea with such longing as would have shamed Juliet's longing for Romeo. I had a duty as father to take my children to school on time and duty as a husband to obey my wife without a question. My dream of life as beauty was transforming into life as a duty.

It is raining out side and my children are dressed in their raincoats. The sight of their raincoats gives me a tinge of jealousy as they are so pretty and tidy compared to dark and drab rain coats of my times. My daughter has a pink colour raincoat with a beautifull prints of puppys with large ears drooping by. Her face shows up pretty and beautifull like a flower in a garden.My son Pading, who is six year old is dressed likewise, only difference being the colour of his raincoat which is green. He is one naughty devil and is behind every prank that keeps the family busy. He is the sunshine, the freshness that keeps the family lively ... and on toes. My sight wanders and rests on my eldest son Dingyang. He has put on a raincoat which we bought two years back. He has overgrown it since and everything seems to be protruding. He tries to remind me I am yet to buy him a new raincoat by trying to button up his raincoat unsuccessfully. I take a mental note of it and acknowledge him with a nod.

My wife hands me her marketing bag to bring back their raincoats and umbrella and I tuck it under my arm obediently. I soothe myself by justifying that these are small things which I can obey, because when bigger decissions of life are made, she obeys me unquestioningly. Takes and gives have to be adjusted into the scheme of life to keep it on track. So much for my wisdom, eh.. I tell myself.

And lo ! we march to the new school my children have joined. As we proceed, my heart skips its beat umpteenth times as they tend to wander towards the middle of road after pulling off their hands from my grip. Splash ... my little devil Pading steps into the puddle of rain water on the road for the third time. Once again I tell him to keep clear of the puddle.... and there again he heads towards the next puddle. Such is the way with children.

On his return from school on first day, Pading had told me in a most spirited way that he had made two new enemies. When I asked how come he made two new enemies where as other boys make new friends in new schools, with a smirk on his face he tells me that a boy tried to mess up with him and in response he punched him till the other boy cried. Then someone from behind caught him and punched him. Pading turned behind and rained punches on the other boy. By then, class teacher appeared and separated them. They were let off with reprimand. He told me with much gutso and sense of triumph. Shall we say he started his new school with a bang!

Squeezing through narrow footpaths and fighting off the traffic we reach their school. As we hug, kiss, and wave our hands off each other and as they step into their respective class rooms, a sense of joy and fulfilment courses through my mind. "Oh! what beauty they are and how lucky I am to have them," I tell myself. But then, isn’t it every parents privilige to feel their love ones are the best. To a parents eye, everything else in this world pales away in the sight of their children. Thus, I try to rationalize my child like exuberance about my kids.

I come back to my wife with her market bag hanging heavy with children's raincoats and their umbrella clutched under my arms. I pretend as if I have been wronged immensely with a somber face. She gives a patronising smile, an understanding nod, pulls up a chair for me and asks whether I would like to have nimbu pani (fresh lemonade) with a mesmeric twinkle in her eyes. Like a pacified child, I give in to her magic and there another part of day begins anew. After all she is a female of species and understands males weakness and their unqualified egoes.

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This is a pen picture of a ordinary morning in a ordinary man's daily life. By the way, I came to Shillong on posting on 2nd May 2009 from New Delhi. My children joined their new school this Monday. This is all for now folks. Bye till I have another innocuous story to tell.