HOPE.

Hope is when you are three and set a balloon free, thinking it will reach the moon.

Hope is tooth fairy, hope is Santa Claus' gift and hope is a birthday-candle-wish. 

Hope is when you are sixteen and stand by the traffic signal and shout your prices hoarse for people to buy your colouring books.

Hope is, waiting outside the intensive care unit for the doctor to bring relief.

Hope is when you are eighteen and still look at the door expectantly for your dad to return from the war-front.

Hope is, believing that your team will make it to the winners’ table in the dying minutes of a game.

Hope is anxiously looking at your phone as the clock strikes twelve, for that one long-distance call on your birthday.

Hope is getting into a moving train with bags bigger than you for sale, only to make ends meet.

Hope is when you are marooned on an island and spot a waving hand out-of-the blue.

Hope is when you are seventy two and stand on the pavement selling incense sticks on a bright and sweltering Sunday afternoon - undeterred, undaunted.

Hope is waiting for the weekend so you get to see your grandchildren and buy them ice-creams to soothe their screeches.

Hope is thinking about that long lost loved one each night before you go to bed, imagining how things could change even now, every striking minute of your life.

Hope is trying to put everything together when everything is crumbling into shreds of disappointment. Hope is painful. Hope is wonderful. Hope is the bird that sings when the dawn is still awfully dark and eerily scary. 

Hope is a perspective. 

Hope is the one thing that will ever be.  

Thank you, Milkman Verghese!

A land flowing with milk and honey is what we all imagine - a land of prosperity and a life that's rich enough to make you feel accomplished. 

“You will possess their land; I will give it to you as an inheritance, a land flowing with milk and honey. I am the lord your god, who has set you apart from the nations.” - The third book of the Bible, Leviticus 20:24. 

Photo by Luke Stackpoole on Unsplash

Well, that was exactly what happened to Verghese Kurien and what he did to India.

Fondly referred to as the ‘Milkman of India’, he brought to spotlight the small town of Anand with his exceptional visionary of transforming India from a milk deficient country to a major producer of milk products in the world. His contribution as an industrialist was well received and an exemplary performance by the Amul brand, paved the way for creating a replica of it – the National Dairy Development Board, in 1965.

The board, headed by Verghese Kurien, launched 'White Revolution' making milk gush across the various villages in India and also completely wiped out malpractices by milk sellers and dealers. The growth of the Amul model was accelerated by providing remunerative incentives to farmers, access to market changes, extra veterinary care to cattle, better cattle feed, etc., leading to greater milk production and animal productivity. 

This meant that there was no more room for cattle slaughter, but only cattle rearing and development of genetic cattle wealth. Milk production thus, spread to as many as two hundred regions of India. A milkman of utter dedication, Kurien played a very vital part in empowering the farmers of today, making dairy farming the largest employment scheme in the country.

An avant-garde in every sense of the word, his involvement in the dairy industry, constant hard work and a futuristic outlook has placed India on the world map of top dairy producers. Countless eyes brim with tears to think that this ground-breaker is not with us any more, but his contributions will live with us, forever. 

Thank you, Verghese Kurien!

Broken Bane.

Shattered - smaller fragments, bigger chunks

Image Courtesy: Mozaico Art 

Every time she tried to fix, it broke more

She felt weak and suppressed, mistrusted and doubted

She looked for the crumbled pieces scattered along the shores of life

It went in vain as the pieces buried themselves unwillingly in shame, guilt, regret and fear

She walked for long along the path to find love,

Tried to get herself back together

Looked for the broken pieces so she could fix

The distance between herself and her soul

But it was too late and her soul left her,

Making her feel unloved and unwanted,

With a single rose next to her body on the bed