Sweet Memories of Holi

I have lived across Northern India - from Bengal to Himachal and enjoyed Holi – the festival of colours with different groups – different culture and in different ways. But the memories of child hood of this festival are still fresh especially when we shifted from our ancestral home to our new house Raza Bazaar.

We had shifted from a joint family to this house of our only in December and were fairly new to the colony. More over the area was new and had very few houses. The nearest otherwise developed colony was Samanpura – a fully Muslim inhabited area. And most of our friends were Muslims too.

Holi in Patna till now had meant a full day filled with fun for us. With very few neighbours here we didn’t know if we could enjoy the same way as we enjoyed in our old house. So we planned after playing with some colours with the neighbours we would go to our old house to play with all there.

Next day early morning we four siblings took our colours and were ready to move to the few Hindu neighbours in the colony. But hardly had we reached our lawn and what we see – a whole group of our new friends from the Muslim area decked in all colours. Our joy had no limit. So our Holi started and we started moving with the toli. From one lane to the other – one house to the other – Singing – dancing – playing – colouring and getting coloured. We enjoyed the utmost and returned to home by 2:00 pm. On reaching home we found that our parents were drenched in colours too. Especially, my father – who hardly ever played wet holi. When we kids had left there had been groups of my father and mother too who had come from the same muslim area and played holi.

Every following year the neighbours increased and toli continued to grow, but the memories of the first year which saw new friends playing Holi and no religion coming in between always remains alive as a sweet memory.

Aditya

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

And this has won the WOW badge - 1st one.

Disguise Strategy

There were two vacancies in the retail segment.

I was new to Dehradun. But in the one month of working in this market, I had understood it’s different from the B-class towns. This is more of the up society market. It paralleled the metros. And thus we needed a different strategy to get in roads with the retail market.

“I want at least one smart girl for this segment. esp. the auto segment” - I argued.

“I am not in favour of girls for such an important segment. This is the major revenue churner” - My boss, Mr. Rogers argued.

“Our problem is that, our guys are not able to get to the decision maker i.e. the dealer owners. A smart girl’s would act as a disguise. She would just open the road and we could then close deals. I have seen this happening in Lucknow.” I tried to put my point forth.

He finally agreed. After all getting business was my job.

Next day there was the interview.

Not much of girls …. This is the problem in small cities I thought.

But I maintained that I have to keep only girl for this position. We chose the only best option available – a non-media girl.

One year later we were presenting the annual presentation.

The market share had grown by 50%.

The revenue had grown by 48%.

12 new clients added in the kitty.

The Director asked – how did you do this turnaround?

Mr. Rogers looked towards me – with a smile on the face said – The disguise worked.

Aditya Sinha

22.02.2015

Aligarh

I told you so...

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

Not even 10 minutes back I saw from the balcony – “She was playing downstairs with all the kids.”

Mamma narrated frantically as she could not locate my four years sister Pinky, anywhere.

“They all were playing here and I was busy preparing the food for the puja” She tried to explain the situation to all the uncle’s and neighbours. 

"She must be in the house itself", One of them said.

“Did you see her going anywhere?” – Another asked from us - the kids.

“Did any one come here?”

Questions were bombarding and we were just negating our heads not understanding the fuss.

They started running here and there. Big brothers and aunties tried to look in all corners, under the bed, behind the doors….

Some ran to the terrace.

Few toward the right side of the road … few towards the left….

One returned … not in this lane ..

No…

Mamma was crying regularly.

Everyone else was worried.

Almost half an hour passed and then we saw the big uncle coming from one corner of the road. With him clasped to the chest was Pinky. And there was someone else. Yes, he was holding the hand of an old lady and pulling her along.

He handed her to Mamma.

“Where had you gone” She asked weeping and clasping Pinky to her chest.

“She told me she would give me Toffee but she just took me away…”

“I told you so… I told you not to go out of this gate”

“Mamma ab nahin jaungi” is all she could speak.

Where is the Budhiya- “the old lady”. Someone asked

We looked around.

She had managed to creep into one of the lanes and run away.

We entered the house realizing why Mama told us so.

Aditya Sinha

01.02.2015.

(An instance almost 40 yrs from now …. When kids were stolen like this in small cities)