Mother - The life giver.

Where the Life began .....

" The universe begins with mother. But for her, there will neither be life, nor the universe as we know. The life is her gift, but as we enter the life istelf, she is relegated to the background. And willingly she fades into lesser of the priorities, all the while, hiding her pains with prayers for not so gratefull progenies. What with necessities of life, is what we say. But these are excuses why there is not enough time for the one who gave us our life. The future has become the reason, to forget the past. The materialistic needs have taken the place of needs of love, feelings and passions for fellow human beings. In this race, we forget the fact that the progress in science and other materialistic comforts have occured as a result of undying love of our forefathers to bless the generations to come with the comfort they never knew for themselves, but wanted their children to have. The whole edifice of human civilization was built on the strength of parental love and desire to secure more comfortable life for their children. Take out the humane and emotional aspect of civilization, you have armageddon staring down at you. Love was the driving force, love will continue to be the driving force in progress we have made and we will make. Science devoid of love ... well .. I dread to think of it. The day we start to strive towards progress for sake of progress only, the beginning of our end will begin."

Love in its most refined form is exhibited in a mother's love for her children. As a mark of love for the source of all LOVE, shall we ..... Shall I say ... I love you, mother. And shall I request you all to express some act of acknowledgement of her love towards you ... in whatever small way, and bring a small smile on her face ... however old her face looks, whatsever number of lines that cut across her aged face .... for once, let the love be there once again, ... For once, give her a glow of a morning sun, during the evening of their life.

And, when they pass into the night, let them say, " Yes, I have lived my day, and night is the time for rest, rest in peace, shall I."

This post is dedicated to all the unsung mothers, whose love has sustained the humanity till now, but who have never been acknowledged. You all may not be eulogised in the golden letters, but it is on your spirit of love that this edifice of human civilization stands.

1. My mother atop Shillong peak.


2. Feelings, feelings is all that matters - Mom and her grand daughter.(My daughter)

3. What can compare the comfort of a snuggle under a parents arms. Another of grand daughters steals a snuggle under her arms.

4. And love dwelt in between our hearts. Children with their grand parents.

5. Moments of truth, moments of togetherness. Wife, Children and self with Mom.

6. But for you, what would world mean to anyone, Mother? Mother and me.

Ode to unsung Mothers


My Mother and me,
She sang ,
And I heard,
Of days that were long gone,
Of battles that were fought,
In the times that,
Lived in the memory,
So far.

Of the love and betrayals,
The ballads,
That passed down,
From mother to child,
In a soothing words,
Told.

Of the days to come,
Of mountains and rivers,
To be crossed.
The mothers dreams,
Of her children, their dreams,
And her wishes,
Mingled,
In her prayers,
Said in that,
Endearing voice.

Song sang from her,
Deepest heart,
Is all that took,
To spur her children,
To the heights, never attained.

So falls sulu in love with mothers.

Some more pictures from Afghanistan

Down the memory lane .

"Todays moments are tomorrows memories. Since we tend to live more in our memories of past, why not build beautiful memories by living our moments by the ideals that are so dear to our heart."
So says sulu to himself.

These are some more pictures from my Afghanistan sojourn. As I told you all, in my previous post, I was stationed in the South -Western Afghanistan, bordering Iran in a place called Zaranj, which is the capital of Nimroz Province. This is the most backward province of Afghanistan. I met some Americans and French people who were working with some charity foundation, and helping set up orphanages and vocational training courses for Afghani women folk to equip them to generate income for themselves.
To me, these people were the real heroes who had left the comfort of their home and country, and, living among the poorest of Afghanis were working without salary. Only accomodation and journet fair was provided to them, and their friends and families used to fund their stay in Afghanistan. Each of them were donating their time for cause of humanity. Some had come for six months, others for one year or two years. Can we take a leaf out of their life in helping our own people to overcome poverty and ignorance?


1.Myself with an American gentlemen called Mike, who was helping in orphanage and running vocational training courses.

2. Carpet weaving training centre run by an American Charity.

3. Finished weaving product/carpet depicting Afghanistan.

4. Tailoring and emroidery were also taught to Afghani women by some French and American ladies.

5. Training class for beauticians are also run by them.

6. We visit orphanage here. Considering the fact that there is incessant war in Afghanistan, the need for orphanage is immense.Among the boys in the picture are those American and French women with head coverings, my doctor friend, Dr. Raj, in dark googles and another American friend in the back.

7. An Afghani boy from orphanage. The beauty and radiance among the children are universal. Their hopes, their expectant eyes, the glow of youthfull spirit on their face are the hallmark of children everywhere.

8. Myself lost among the Afghani children.

" Long after my body leaves a place, it is in my mind and heart that this place shall continue to live, and it is in their mind and heart that I shall continue to live. How I lived the moments I spent with them, shall determine in which part of their memory, I shall continue to live."

So says sulu to himself.

--- ADIEU ---

A thing of beauty is ... well guess what?

Well, I came to Ziro on 31st July' 2009 and left on 2nd August' 2009. Very short stay indeed, considering Ziro is my home town. The beauty of greenery that surrounds Ziro during the summer and the way it gives way to golden carpet during the autumn with blue mountains in the yonder, is the most beautiful moment that I have experienced. Here, I am posting some of the pictures I took of somewhere, where a small patch of my rice fields lies, both during my latest visit and the visit to my beloved valley I made during October 2005, before I left for Afghanistan. It was a gala harvesting time.

1.

a) Prelude to story of beautiful Ziro - A view as you drive down Aaabliya Balya - A Panoramic view of Ziro valley as you enter main my heartland.

2.

b) As I go to my field, I have to pass through LEYU,(Leyu is a passage through the bamboo groves which one must take to leave village for any work .. including field work.) Here I take nenting leyu, which is a way to upper Hija village's fields and forests.

3.

c) As soon as I leave Leyu, this is the vista my eyes are blessed with.

4.

d) Another eye feasting vista as you view the Myoko( Open space beyond village area) beyond your village.

5.

As I look back, I see the Leyu, with crops of millets planted on the sides of Aaji Ager(bunds)

6.

Moving with steps that are confident of grounds beneath, of the paths that I grew up with, I find the lush green fields swaying with a blush of young heads of rice as the wind blows gently.

7.

Here, I turn to my right and find the fields swaying to the music of the winds playing with instruments nature provided in abundance in the open fields. What symphony can compete with nature's sweet music. huh!!!!

7.

I take a detour and take picture of my field from afar, where my father was laid to rest last year. A patch of raised land is called Nendu Nenchang - a public burial ground. My dad, rests not there, but where I stand and take these snaps. Small hut you see is Myole Piinyi, where the apatani priests perform rituals to propitiate the spirits. White bamboo structures are burial memorials.

8.

This is another picture - my eyes are never tired of such visual feast of greenery, freshness, beauty and tenderness that was all along.

9.

Here, I look back before I enter leyu. My body leaves you, my dear, but I leave my heart with you. Keep it green, fresh, clean and forever young.

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When you see something, and find it beautifull, you behold it. Nature takes its tolls, and you look again, and wonder, where is that which I beheld with such awe? How has it withered with time and age? Where do I find such beauty, such love, which neither time nor age will leave it untouched. And you wonder!!!!!!

Suddenly, a whiff of fresh memories, not fresh in a sense it is new, but fresh because of its essence, ... the memories of childhood, of neighbours and surroundnings that looks so unpalatable to the foreigners, whispers, here I am. And, you know you have found true beauty. It grows with age, and as the seasons change, it reveals its beaty in phases.

What is beauty? Is it skin deep? Is it limited to the pereiod when you are young and fresh? Where does the beauty fade away when the age catches up with it?

Haaa Haa haa.... ha ha ha. Like most people, I am usually confused between youth and beauty. That loveliness that we see usually are the youths in bloom, not the beauty in its true colour. True beauty is deeper and unfathomable. Like a good old wine, it becomes better with age. So is Ziro. You thought, green and beautiful Ziro will give way to old and withering autumn and winter? No way. These are some of the pictures I took during the harvest season in October'2005, before, I left for Afghanistan.

10.
As Ziro matures from spring to summer and to autumn, it turns golden in its look and its content. Whole of Ziro valley is carpeted with golden crops of ricewith a far away blue mountains as a back ground. This is the time when gangs of male and females( Patangs), as per their age, band together and have maximum fun and frolick harvesting the rice fields and getting drowned in its celebration. Those of you, who have never experienced abandoned gay and joy, come during the harvest time to Ziro and join one of the patangs to drink the last drop of joy that lifes gives us. I assure you, you would have squeezed out the nectar, the honey that life has never blessed anywhere else.

This is a view from Siilang Diiting of Siilang, Boppii, Tbyo and Piisa pu putu. I took this scenary while proceeding to my fields beyond those blue mountains with my wife and children.

11.

Just as I cross a small stream to enter my field, I see this view. The fenced field is others. Beyond that, in a far off hirizon where lies the blue mountains is our clan's naring morey and katu morey.( Morey refers to forest, here clan forest.) To the left is Aifu Puttu(AAifu Hillock) and to the right is Piisa Pu Puttu.

12.

This is another shot of fraction of my field and beyond as described above. It looks surreal. Doesnt it?

( The first picture at the top is of my son Dingyang performing pabung banni, which means carrying the threshed rice grains to a place called intii pere. Usually children are tasked with pabung banni while the young and grown up females reap the rice stalks and young and grown upmales thresh the rice. It is one of the most beautiful moments of any childhood who have grown up in a typical Apatani Village life.)

13.

Rest a while. Well, goldend carpets all around. Why would anyone go for red carpets anywhere else?

Well, I will be in my home town this harvest season. God willing. Anyoneone who wants to have fun and frolick in the very work work that gives us life are welcome to join me.

Remembering Afghanistan - I

Life has a way of throwing up surprises, and one such unexpected road which took my life unawares was my posting to Afghanistan. In a hindsight it was a wonderful experience, but living that experience was completely a different song. As one of many aids, Indian government is providing to fledgelling Afghanistan government, road from Zaranj to Delaram (215KM) was also taken up by India. Border road organisation was entrusted with this job. I went there and stayed for two years and came back during November 2007.
I landed up at Kabul Airport on 25th October 2005. The winter was setting in and whip of cold wind played with my unkempt hair as I stepped out of Airport. As I looked out and saw the town surrounded by barren hills, it reminded me of Kathmandu valley. Airport itself reminded me of our old Ziro Airport. Only difference was it had pot holes near the edge of runway and number of bombed Aircraft scattered all over, like broken toy aeroplanes in my children's room. We slowly piled up infront of immigration counter. People at the counter looked at my passport and at me, and scrutinised my face to a point of embrassment, they repeated it for sometime and took me to a different room. They didnt believe I was an Indian and put my pass port to scrutiny again and again. Only after I showed my disqeuit and showed Ministry of External Affairs letter to Afghanistan Embassy, did they let me through ever so reluctantly.
Next morning I flew down to a place called Zaranj in a eight seater small plane. Weather was clear and sky was deep blue stretcing far into the universe. Down below, there was not a whip of cloud, so I could fill my eyes with awsome landscapes. All the way to Zaranj, which took two hours, we crossed mountain range after mountain range, but not a forest was seen. It looked so much like face of mars and other planets as we see in science fiction movies.
Landing at Zaranj was totally a different experience. The runway was not metalled and it was laid with small stone chips. I had the childish fear that one of that stone might pierce the tyre and it would burst. Nonetheless, it landed safely and I experienced the most wonderfull flight I have ever flown.
Zaranj is the capital of Nimroz Province and it is hardly half a mile from Iran border. This is one of the remotest part of Afghanistan. I suppose it should rank among the remotest in the world. The whole of province has not had any metalled road in history. There is a huge market for second hand four wheel SUV cars as all the journey is a cross country run through the desert. There is no system of vehicle registration and driving license. So all the vehicles have the registration numbers of previous country and owner.
There were no banks existing when I landed, and people kept their money with money lenders. There is a money market where various currencies are sold and bought. Currencies of various countries are kept piled up on the shelves and people come and purchase as we buy vegetables from vegetable market in India. It was something very new to me and I took sometime to understand the system. Iran currency i.e rial is the prevailent medium of exchange, although US dollar is also favoured by many. Afganistan govt has introduced Afghani currency and DA Afghan Bank. But people have neither faith in Afgani currency nor DA Afghan Bank. So, they still prefer to keep their money with money lenders and hold foreign currencies. There are no cultivable lands nor any industry, but God has blessed them with acumen for money management. So, they are very gud business men.
Security was a big issue. Although Taliban govt had fallen two years back, it was resurfacing in this part of Afghanistan with much more vigour and determination. Within twenty days of joining, one of our men from Kerala was kidnapped and beheaded. Many a time our people used to be ambushed on the road sides. There was a constant fear stalking us whenever we moved out side. Every vehicle we passed by was viewed as a potential suicide jihadi. There were times at night when one would watch rockets falling around the camp with total dispondency. These were moments of heplessness. We lost number of our own people and also Afghani soldiers who were guarding us to our enemies. Reminds me of " There are no atheists in a cornered place." Everybody thought of their maker in those situations.
I came back to India towards the end of November 2007. Today, the road stands completed and the the remotest place in Afghanistan stands connected to the rest of Afghanistan .
Afghani People are warm and hospitable, but have that trait of short tepmer which comes in a package with honesty and simplicity.
These are some of snaps which I thought I should share with you all.




Infront of my makeshift office with my staff at Gurguri, Afghanistan.
Visiting a road construction site.

New Road being built. Zaranj - Delaram, Afghanistan.

Afghani warriors to guard us.

Commander in the centre fell prey to Taliban bullets.

Remembering Afghanistan - II

Outside Minar village over an old burial ground. Afghanistan.

Minar Village, Afghanistan

Entrance to Minar Village, Afghanistan.

One for Memory. Minar Village, Afghanistan.

Goat strolling on the roof of a house.

Remembering Afghanistan - Trip to Minar village - III

Inside a courtyard of Afghani House.


Inside Afghani house with a Afghani Patriach.



With Afghani Family Patriach.




With young boys of Minar Village, Afghanistan.





Before leaving the village, group photo for remembrance.
Odd man out with Afghani villagers.

Meet my kids.

Meet my kids - Miss Dani Rinyi, Master Dani Pading and Master Dani Dingyang in this photo feature.










All for one, one for all.
Rinyi, Pading ( Dressed for Krishna Leela) ,Dingyang










Pading visits Rinyis Nursery Class










Kids visit a Pizza Hut