Session IV

Twilight at the Park

- Pinky Rathi

Red rimmed eyes with shadows like corals in their depth bore witness to her painful night. She knew her back was strained, the hard surface of the bench was hurting her but it was the only bench which gave her a view of the walking trail, hidden behind the hanging branches in midst of two trees. She didnt want any company and the spot was perfect.

She looked intently at the two men walk past her, father and son. A prickle and twinge in her heart, she bit on her already worn out red lips. The salty taste in her mouth were just in line with her raging emotions.

Diffused light of the early morning sky, was a reflected her own sombre

A flash of sitting on her

The diffused light from the sky during the early evening or early morning when the sun is below the horizon and its light is refracted by the earth's atmosphere.

b. The time of the day when the sun is just below the horizon, especially the period between sunset and dark.

2. Dim or diffused illumination.

3. A period or condition of decline following growth, glory, or success: in the twilight of his life.

4. A state of ambiguity or obscurity

Twilight is the time between dawn and sunrise or between sunset and dusk, during which sunlight scattering in the upper atmosphere illuminates the lower atmosphere, and the surface of the earth is neither completely lit nor completely dark. The sun itself is not directly visible because it is below the horizon. Owing to the distinctive quality of the ambient light at this time, twilight has long been popular with photographers and painters, who refer to it as the "blue hour", after the French expression l'heure bleue. Twilight is technically defined as the periods between sunset and sunrise during which there is natural light provided by the upper atmosphere, which receives direct sunlight and scatters part of it towards the earth's surface.[1]

I Am A Tree

A Hobos Song

I was walking in the park

September 23rd, 2009 | Author: The Tree

This one takes me back. Its Marillion, Fish-era, performing the Misplaced Childhood album live. Lavender, the song below, was always one of my favorite Fish lyrics. The first verse is just so bloody evocative to me. Anyway, heres the video (from the Loreley concert).

I was walking in the park dreaming of a sparkWhen I heard the sprinklers whisperShimmer in the haze of summer lawnsThen I heard the children singingThey were running through the rainbowsThey were singing a song for youWell it seemed to be a song for youThe one I wanted to write for you, for you

Lavenders blue, dilly dilly, lavenders greenWhen I am King, dilly dilly, you will be QueenA penny for your thoughts my dearA penny for your thoughts my dearI.O.U. for your love, IOU for your love

Lavenders green, dilly dilly, lavenders blueWhen you love me, dilly dilly, I will love youA penny for your thoughts my dearA penny for your thoughts my dear

daily alliance daimoku 6-9 am 9-11 pm

lets us awaken to our mission of accomplishing kosenrufu together with sensei

Meeting Content

Study Beacon Chapter and mentor disciple spirit

Future division dance and all division songs

6 experiences of victory in faith

Message fm Sensei chant for it

Focus on Home Visits

Individual guidances

Human Revolution

Daimoku 90 minutes daily

Shaka Buku eachone to introduce one person

Attendance 250 members and guests

Session III Baby found near the Dargah

What according to you is ones true identity and what is that one value you thank your family for? the judge asked her.

Anamika went cold, her wide smile faltered. Eyes, which had been sparkling just moments past, registered shock for a second. She looked at the judge and brightened her shaky smile hoping to outshine her pause and the sudden silence. As she struggled, her mind just drew a blank. Identity! True identity! Family values, they were not alien words, instead wasnt these words exactly that her whole life had been about.

As the past 20 years of her life flashed through her mind, it took all her 5 years of training and grooming to keep smiling. This moment was too important to let her past shroud her thoughts now. She realised, the world was waiting for her to answer. A quick glance at the camera reminded her of innocent eyes that would be watching her. She could not mess this up. It was time to give due regard to the judges query. And it was just that, a query. The mask came back on. Directing an over bright smile at the judge Anamika reached to the deep recesses of her heart and breathed.

Good evening members of the jury and thank you for the question. A true identity is that what we build from what hand life deals us. And the most important value that a family is the importance of sincerity in all our relationships she quickly finished. The judge looked disillusioned waiting for more. Anamika shivered.

A group of huddled kids far away in a small room, waited with bated breath. They were oceans away but she could feel their expectant eyes on her. It was just for them Anamika continued, Our true identity is what we create, everyone starts with a blank slate and it is up to us what we write on it. Its not a background or a family that is our true identity it is our self-respect and character. A resounding applause broke out as the judge sat down satisfied.

She had won the title that day. She was Ms. Universe. As per the contract Anamika travelled the world as Ms. Universe. In the media, at the events and in social groups she was the new face of beauty with a purpose. Nobody cared about her name. She was just Ms. Universe. All her years of hard work had given this. This was who she was now. What people saw.

In all her finery, the white Chanel gown, her Ms. Universe crown adorning her head, Anamika barged into the small room where she knew all of them would be seated gaping at the Discovery Channel. Her arrival was a surprise. Turning at her loud hello they all jumped up to hug her. In two minutes she was surrounded with a group of 30 children of all ages yelling in joy. Anamika realised, she maybe Ms. Universe outside, but here, in this chaos, she was just their Didi. They recognised her as the one who taught them, the founder of this venture Hope. As easily as she had adorned the crown, Anamika slipped back into the role of Didi. She knew they looked up to her for answers to the questions life threw at them. They were kids who came from abject poverty and the venture was a small foundation where they could learn to build their character. They were trained in any skill that they liked. Here they got the opportunity to move forward, no matter where they came from.

Anamika unlocked her sanctuary, her bedroom. Nobody entered there. It was a space that she kept to herself. The walls had all kinds of certificates and degrees. Numerous trophies adorned the shelves. Her ward robe was full of her childhood clothes, from school captain jacket to her colleges rotary cap. Keepsakes, collected over the years or on her travels. All of it was lined up in a chronological way, in a manner of last the 20 years. To an outsider it would look like clutter but to her they were proof that she had lived these moments. Each item here in some form or the other answered the world who she was. She removed the crown and put it on the shelf. Another trophy.

She sat down at the dressing table. The mask slipped, her clear eyes clouded. After 6 years of sheer hard work. She wondered if she had succeeded. The judges final question still rankled, What according to you is ones true identity?

As she stared at the mirror but no image reflected back. The mirror was covered with clippings of paper, scrawled labels collected just like the keepsakes, clippings of identities, Class monitor, Prom Queen Rotary Secretary, Founder & Chair Hope Didi and now she stuck another Ms. Universe. But it was among all these labels, a newspaper clipping stood out in the centre Baby found near Dargah.

With a hand on my head injury, I witnessed as the local senior official had a word with my friend, some moments past, he had been on the phone having word with some unknown person. It had all felt so surreal. Later my friends father, one of citys leading doctors explained it was the trauma of the accident. Wonder what he would say was the malady impaling the local authorities present.

Anna Hazare Campaigners had termed it Corruption. A spectator to the lakhs thronging in support, my righteous self too had felt a tug. Indeed India had to stand up against this disease taking over our country. Work limited personal attendance but intrinsically I supported the cause. It was time to take cognizance with the idealist within, time to stand true to self. Hard debates with friends, colleagues or family. Disgust against what ailed our countrys leaders? Where was the sense of national pride towards fighting corruption? The time for a change had come. The nation was rising as one and I sure was part of it. I felt power within.

Till that fatal day. The way our car had swerved, the fact that the bonnet hit on the drivers side, the fact that we were at 40 km speed, the local witnesses that saw the truck negligently speeding on our side of the road, hitting us head on. It was an open shut case. But not truly, cause we the complainants were swayed with the strong credence that it wasnt in best interests to lodge an FIR. Rhetoric questions were sowed. Our friend, the only male, travelling with four women, did he really need the trouble of leaving the car behind? Did we really want to take a daily four hour drive to the local courts with lawyers? This could be a long drawn investigation. Wouldnt we rather check for fractures instead?

At a makeshift nursing home, a broken down building stood for the village hospital. Bewildered, in shock, worried, dazed by the intensity of the local truck union gathering outside the hospital, for my friends and me, the officials words were gospel.The local beat officials smiling convincing us of they had our sincere best at heart. No monetary benefit discussed so was it the simplistic petty corruption for the officials urging the easy way or just in a days work? Was it the chat up on the phone or just our interest at heart for the smiling beat constable? Was he just reducing his burgeoning workload or increasing his back pockets burgeon from an unknown source?

My friend chose to not lodge an FIR. Mere hours away from the financial capital, close to the home of the crusader himself. The irony stood out. We were powerless, courage and inclination to take the culprits to task lacking. Wonder what Annajis campaigners would say. Long drawn TV debates, street protests, boiling blood and a forum against the malady doesnt ring true at an ordinary accident site.

As fellow passengers we had participated in a string of major corruption scandals from the telecom licencing scam to the alleged fraud at the international Commonwealth Games. But found ourselves vulnerable at the accident site. Despite best intentions, corruption had extended to our personal live on that day. We could not argue with the grinding daily routine of petty corruption that perhaps is at the root of it all.

Whether its waiting in the queue to check on a passport renewal even after3 months of application, my brothers pay some extra above the standard fee to avoid "too much bother" seemed reasonable. But I had stood strong ground. I will toe the line. "And no one does anything. The politicians won't do anything because they are all corrupt too. I had supported the campaign whole heartedly. Someone needed to be accountable. But were my friends and I are accountable for our decision to not account for the accident itself. All these protests are very inspiring but will people really change? After that day, I don't know. It wasnt a state institution or a private authority, I was disappointed with myself.

Hazare is campaigning for a powerful new anti-corruption ombudsman with the right to investigate senior politicians, officials and judges. His critics say this would be undemocratic, and worry about the division of powers. But for people like restaurateur Vishal, Hazare is a hero. "At least he is doing something," he said. "No one else is."

Though bribery, or "graft", is a fact of life for more or less everybody in India, the demonstrators are largely urban, educated and relatively well-off. "What you are seeing on the street is a middle-class rebellion," said Mohan Guruswamy, a former senior official in the ministry of finance and founder of the Centre for Policy Alternatives thinktank.

Support for Hazare is particularly strong among those who have benefited most from India's recent breakneck economic development but are frustrated by a largely unreformed public sector that delivers poor and haphazard services. They are often the young.

Tens of millions of school and college-leavers pour into the Indian jobs market each year. growth and with skill levels low and good jobs scare, unrest could rise.

Senior Congress party politicians this week argued that some level of graft was "inevitable" in a developing economy. However, analysts said the extent of the problem in India which ranks at 87 out of 178 on the campaign group Transparency International's index of corruption is unique. "India is comparable to China, doing better than Russia, less well than Brazil," said Robin Hodess, the group's research director. "But bureaucratic and petty corruption is extreme in India."

Some say India's generally patchy law enforcement is to blame. "We are politically advanced in terms of institutions," said Guruswamy. "We have courts, a parliament and a long tradition of democracy ... but very few people are ever held to account." Last week a senior judge faced unprecedented impeachment proceedings 25 years after the alleged offence.

Others say those who pay the bribes are to blame too. One supreme court lawyer who refused demands for commissions in return for sanctioning payment for work he had done for the government, said giving in to corruption could be down to "deep powerlessness" or simply a "I just want to get on with my day" type of attitude. "As Indians we see corruption as something that permeates our lives, like air pollution, but we need to think much more carefully about it," he said.

But the widespread anger is also due to a sense that modern India not only deserves better but needs to at least moderate rampant corruption to compete on the world stage.

"In India we are sometimes a little slow or dysfunctional but civil society, simple democracy can make a huge difference," added Thoniparambil.

Double shock

I could feel only the pain in the head, as I reeled and tried getting up from the car seat. I couldnt remember where I was or what had happened? For that matter when had it happened? Who was with me? I recognised the people around me but I still really couldnt understand what had happened? When had it happened and How?

My friend shook me, as she started asking me some quick questions. Thats how she relates it. They say when you get into an accident, your first reflex comes to fore. All I remember feeling is that I have to teach whoever did this to us a lesson, mind you I didnt know who was the enemy or what he had done but a lesson was to be taught.

As I walked towards the truck I had no pen nothing in my hand but want to write but ready to fight I was. All this ofcourse is a surreal memory as I sometimes wonder if I truly was in an accident. I guess the regular headaches are evidence of it.

If you file an FIR, you will have to leave the car behind and come back here with a lawyer. I remember the Sub Inspector telling my friend in the makeshift that they call a hospital. I remembering getting up from the bed to understand why he was trying to make it our fault. I have always been a regular honest citizen of India, then why suddenly I felt as if I needed some untold powers to feel safe in my own country.

Session III Baby found at Dargah

Buttering the toast, and pouring coffee, he read the headlines of the local newspaper. His wife asked him, We have to attend the Agarwals party tonight. Please come back early so that we can reach there on time. He looked up and smiled and nodded.

Ashwini was relieved. He had been in such a grave mood for the past two days, but he seemed to be in a better mood now she reflected as she bade him goodbye.

Ranjeet didnt flinch at the unnatural scent that assailed him as he walked into the laboratory.

did you read the headlines today sir? Another baby found at the Dargah. This is the third baby left in the month. Another healthy baby boy, with not even a scratch.

Ranjeet ignored his assistant as he walked past him to the board. Standing in front of the board, he stared at the city map. Pins were put to highlight the Dargahs in the city.