My Life my way..

Before the readers must confess that professional writing is something very different than mine. Its my first attempt at actual descriptive writing which was stopped with advent and  ease of access to email somewhere around 1994. In fact it stopped even well before that as I was in love this time around.

I was actually, appreciated, by my educationist father. He had prior to that not seen many positive qualities in me. At the same time must share that he had actually never engaged with me the way we know the engagement of fathers with their children today. Except for the evenings when I will come back with an injured knee and he will recite some poem from his nationalist mind comparing my woulds with those of Rana Sanga or Rana Sangarm Singh of Mewar, making me feel as brave as  Lav and Kush, the sons of Sita-Rama who took on the epic army of Rama the king of Ayodhya. His recital of those poems and reproduction of the epic names and stories hence, associated with these gave my courage (I believe) as a child he mesmerized me with drama he put in reciting the great laurels of Indian culture and the pride I can still feel when I do the same with my children.

Must confess I have not tried to to make my children as attached to our inheritance as he consciously and continuously tried despite limited resources and continuous struggle for survival, his dedication was unique. I will refer to the line time and again during the course of my thought process. Now this would be year 1973-1974 as far I can remember.

1973 would be an interesting year. We had just moved to Kanpur from Barabanki, a real sleepy town. A town which produced Mohisina Kidwai and prior to that her father Rafi Ahmad Kidwai ( https://goo.gl/WbVgBk) first Minister for Communications of free India and only the second Muslim minister in Nehru cabinet and Maulana Azad. Later on this city Barabanki (https://goo.gl/LYjZGG) produced many socialist leaders including Anantram Jaiswal andof late Beni Prasad Verma (https://goo.gl/E8HIRq) incidentally also communication minister in UPA / congress government.
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NOt removing the lines as I plan build upon the thoughts shared below
  Now this is interesting. Kanpur in late 70s was textile people will call it the Surat of North India as Surat was then known as Manchester of the east.

Share a thought..

Confusion prevails over do it or not to do it. Not sure of the fears and desires, however, adamant on doing this as the self belief getting over and challenge the limits. It will be simple read and real with a pinch of lie and agony. Just getting over the tabu of "what if" and "why not" , "even though".

Notwithstanding the fact that on the way to office. Wonder not, what all we do to win our breads. My bread comes from supporting the EU from India.

Classroom were never a place for me and things always done in my own lazy, faulty way. The only time I remember to love the classroom learning was in 1981 or is it 1979 do not remember exactly, when learning German language.

This was an start of a love story which has been lived through over past 35 years.

All along everyone has been asking why would a boy from a not so sleepy town back then in late 70s learn German language? So, with an embraced smile came the answer, "Never wanted, to learn it in the first place."

Personally, always wanted to study Hotel Management, as this the farthest that could have been imagined in good old Newspaper, Competition Success Review and Manorama Year Book days. As these were still the days where getting information was as tedious as beating a competition.

goes on..

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