The Book I Managed To Miss

Over last 70 years, say since my early school days I have been a diligent and voracious reader, in my mother tongue Sindhi and my prime infatuation English and of course Hindi, Urdu and Gujarati fiction and translations there of in English.

Yesterday during the monsoon cleaning of my book racks I stumbled upon a paperback edition of " Six Great Modern Short Novels". The inside cover had an inscription - Nirmal Kumar Dhadhal 1955. I immediately and nostalgically recalled the gentleman. He was the enigmatic ruler of an erstwhile small state in Saurashtra, India. He had settled down in Mount Abu with his privy purse to educate his children and lead a sedate life.I came in touch with him when he had visited my curio shop. Somewhat depressed, he was impressed by a couple of  books lying on my counter and marveled as to how I combined serious reading with my vocation.

The next day he returned, bringing with him a copy of " Six Great Modern Short Novels " and handing it to me shyly confided that he had bought the book for the heck of it but never got around to reading it and that I should read the same. I took the book home but lost touch with its owner. Some days later rumour circulated that Nirmal Kumar had disappeared under mysterious circumstances,leaving his family distraught. Side by side, the book was either misplaced or lost in my array of unread books , thus I managed to miss the extraordinary read for around 57 years.

Finding the book after so many years is the best thing that has happened to me lately,as I had been hard up for suitable reading material. I have started with ' The Overcoat' by Nikolay Gogol. It is an immortal and exhaustive short work of fiction set in Russia and so must be the rest with the following titles:
The Dead  by James Joyce.
Billy Budd Foretopman by Herman Melville.
Noon Wine by Katherine Ann Porter.
The Pilgrim Hawk by Glenway Wescott.
The Bear by William Faulkner.

The Keeper of the Bees

While relaxing in my garden, one fine morning, a couple of bees buzzed by and then were back instantly to refresh my otherwise active memory about having read 'The Keeper of the Bees' by Gene Stratton-Porter in my school way back in 1953.

The narration, a classical environmental read is about an immaculately laid out Bee Garden- Apiary in California, its elderly keeper, the Bee Master and his very young girl friend and honorary partner, an impish tomboy, who while wisecracking incessantly and humorously claims to have lived happily, every minute of her teenage years.

The book also centers on a Scottish immigrant, an ailing war veteran who while hitchhiking enters the Bee Garden, well in time to see its master afflicted by a seizure and then to phone the doctor and provide first aid as instructed. While awaiting the doctor's arrival, the Bee Master moved by teh sicerity f the unexpected visitor, implores him to be his guest and stay put till his return from the hospital. So the story moves poignantly

The book published in 1925 is still in print and can be read online. Here is to Happy Reading!

Where The Years Went

On August 10, 2012 completed 77 blissful years. How and where the years are gone? For me the journey has been swift and sans qualms. But still a lot remains to be done and accomplished. The foremost on my agenda is my grand son, Saahil Ailsinghani. On July 21, 2012 he joined the International Institute of Hotel Management, Ahmedabad. At the Induction ceremony I was genuinely impressed by the IIHM and its young team. Needless to add,the Hospitality Industry is the need of the time and a presentable candidate has all the chance of success.So good luck Saahil! Try to EXCELL.

Arravali BHALOO - The Hill Bear

" Horrible, hairy human with paws like hands in prayer,

Thus rises the stately bear

Seeing its towering shoulders and paunch's swing

My heart is touched with pity for the monstrous pleading thing

But beware! The nearer he comes with paws like hands that pray

It may mangle and rip your face away. "

To most of the people in India and abroad, the bears are begging animals, seen in zoos, as harmless and comic beasts, dragged around in the streets and made to perform for amusement. But, wild bears are in fact a constant menace to the humans and their vocations.

The bears, mostly live in hill forests and make short trips to villages around to seek a change of diet or due to unavailability of sustenance. They have poor hearing and poorer eye sight and are acutely irritated at being surprised or approached by humans and so, in a fit of temper tend to attack and viciously maul the unfortunate and unintentional cause 0f their annoyance, mostly human beings.

All Indian bears are black in color. The biggest, the Himalayan bears living in high altitudes, surprisingly have a short coat of fur and are aggressive. Their counterpart, the sluggish sloth-bears thrive in warmer locales of lower altitudes and the foot hills. Comparatively, they have long shaggy fur. The beasts are some what docile, more intelligent and thus, more interesting. Then there is the smaller species, that is most amusing and active , very easily trained and a source of joy to the spectators.

" So life is indeed enjoyment for Bhaloo, he lives with zest

Grumbling and tumbling through the forest hills he goes

The nocturnal robber, much to the awe and mirth of friends and foes."

The World of Limericks

A limerick is a light humorous on nonsensical verse of five anapest lines, ending in a rhyme.

This year is the 125th death anniversary of Edward Lear, the creator and exponent of satirical and nonsense rhyme known as the limerick. Lear was an artist and a naturalist and with his 'Book of Nonsense' published in 1846, launched a literary diversion that continues to interest and engage good writers with wit and humor universally. However, no one seems to know as to why the limerick is so called. But it has been vaguely associated with the Irish county of Limerick for no rhyme or reason. Now there are limericks galore, penned over the years by acknowledged authors that circulate and humor and intrigue many enthusiasts. To cite a few:

There was a young fellow of Lyme

Who lived with three wives at a time

When they asked, why the third

He replied " One is absurd and bigamy, Sir, is a crime.

A silly young man named Hyde

In a funeral procession was spied

When asked "who is dead?"

He giggled and said

" I don't know; I just came for the ride."

Thomas Bahler- My Online Friend

I came in touch with Thomas Bahler on Facebook. Regular exchange of comments soon changed to a friendship online. One day he confided that he was an author and asked whether I had read his book ' Anything is Possible'. Saying no and quite unsure about his whereabouts, I asked him while giving my mailing address to send over the book, if possible. . He commented, yes right away and the next day pat came the comment that the book has been sent.

After 20 days the packet arrived all the way from New York. Overwhelmed by the kindness and generosity of a stranger, my joy knew no bounds and I started reading happily. The book, an inspirational read, is about AESOP, born a slave in 620 BCE, he endured countless hardships and cruel masters, but aided briefly by his mother and then mostly by his sense of freedom of thought and wit and humor, enthralled the world over the centuries with his Fables and later with no access to wealth or influence served as an ambassador to the most powerful and the richest king in the world,Croesus of Lydia.

Prior to writing ' Anything is Possible' Thomas Bahler has enjoyed a distinguished career composing music and among the many hits he has composed is Michael Jackson's 'She is out of my Life' and has served as a music director for events sponsored by the White House including ' America's Millenium' and President Clinton's Inaugural Concert. ' Anything is Possible' inspired by AESOP, is his first novel.

The Sindhi Forbearance

Born to excel and endure, the Sindhi Hindu had been the victim of vagaries of partition of India when Sindh was included lock, stock and barrel in Pakistan on August 14, 1947. Prior to this, the docile and industrious community had borne the brunt of Muslim domination, right from the beginning of the 8^th century when Mohammad Bin Quasim first ransacked Sindh and thereafter by repeated onslaughts over the centuries by Muslim marauders culminating in rule or say misrule by Soomras, Sammas, Kalhoras and ultimately by the Mirs who were vanquished by the British in 1843.

The British rule had been a respite from continuous intimidation and cultural deterioration but the gritty Hindu had stood his ground stubbornly. They not only excelled in industry and trade, amassing uncalculated riches but by administrative skill upheld moral values with character and dignity, despite shelling out outrageous extortions through their hard earned money. They were in a way, financiers to the Muslim rulers and later contributed to the British exchequer and were the founders of Sindh Warki cult- The Sindhi traders abroad who were in prominence all over the world.

Inclusion of Sindh with a Hindu minority, in Pakistan was a blessing in disguise as the caged phoenix escaped and triggered the Hindu exodus to India. Thus the community headed for a belated breather and freedom, to honorably make a fresh start. Considering the freedom movement and anticipating as to what was in store for them, the migrants had been well prepared to emigrate safely, sans violence and bloodshed with their liquid assets and embrace new horizons. Now on a safe ground and with a brief and welcome rehabilitation program by the Congress government, the Sindhi merrily set about the resurrection. Reconciled to their lot and minding their own vocation, the community mingled locally with gusto, adopting the doctrine with a cheerful demeanor, to live in India with a distinguished standard and inimitable lifestyle. They politely signaled subservience- the desire to serve, with a theme of liberation that needed rejoicing. So they did not bother to squint in the past and ardently looked to the future. They upheld the dignity of profession, avoiding the ravages of anti social activity with no political and welfare demands whatsoever, while the other communities demanded reservations, subsidies and handouts, in the process resorting to extreme and degenerate means of fasting, picketing, rioting, disobedience, self immolation etc. But no Sir! the Sindhi, though for a while down on his knees and financially depleted, refrained respectfully from resorting to unscrupulous means. On the contrary the Sindhi was appalled by the negative attitude of the rest of citizens of free India in its infancy. In fact, the entire nation should have stood by and shouldered and shared the problems that had been left unattended to by the British.

Withstanding the complexities of life to be lived and cherished optimistically, the Sindhi has scaled mountains and still chases success and dreams, having fun and living every moment of the escapade, being unceasingly hugged by greatness in life. Thus the Sindhi remains miraculously energetic and frantically alive.