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Help at 3 AM ???

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Alpha.Barood

A night in the life of an IAS officer. A small error(later realised a big blunder) on my part made me to face a cliffhanger night.The following incident which is one tensed night which I underwent when I was a SDO in Jhargram Subdivision in West Bengal.

Jhargram is a very old Subdivision in West Bengal. It borders with Jharkhand and is a very beautiful subdivision. Jhargram Subdivision is blessed with 2 rivers,one is called Kangsavathi river which flows in the northern part of subdivision and the second river called Subarnarekha river which flows in the southern part of Jhargram Subdivision. I was working as the Sub Divisional Officer of Jhargram Subdivision, West Midnapore District, in West Bengal. Jhargram Subdivision has 8 blocks (Block is an administrative unit.Many blocks together form a subdivision and many subdivisions together form a district). It was first week of July 2007. It was raining heavily for 3 consecutive days. Only 2 blocks of Jhargram Sub division(Nayagram Block and Binpur 1 Block) were flood prone. I was busy in sending relief material to these 2 affected blocks. Even though the remaining 6 blocks were partially affected,only these 2 blocks were historically and geographically flood prone and were drawing attention all these years.

It was around 9pm and I got a phone call from BDO ( Block development Officer) of Sankrail Block. He told me that water level in Sankrail was increasing. Sankrail Block is located in the eastern most part of Jhargram Subdivision and even though River Subarnarekha flows through it, its drainage system is proper and historically no severe flood was reported from this Block.The BDO of Sankrail was an efficient officer but one problem i found with him on several occasions was, he always over reacted even for a small problem. So when he told that water level was raising, I started laughing and told him not to overreact and told that I was busy in sending food material to Nayagram and Binpur 1 Blocks. Boss is always right and so he had to keep the phone. Around 10 pm, District Magistrate called and reviewed the flood situation. Mr.B.P.Bharat was the District Magistrate & District Collector(DM) at that time and he was a friend, philosopher and guide to me.He used to protect me, whenever I, as a young officer fought with ruling party. He always used to tell that I was like his son and really took care of me. After reviewing the flood situation of 2 worst affected blocks, he told that he recieved a call from Sankrail BDO. I laughed and told him,“Sir, Sankrail BDO is like a child and over reacts for everything. Historically no flood is reported from Sankrail”. In bureaucracy precedents decide and I was a bureaucrat. Mr.Bharat laughed with me and he kept the phone.Then around 12 midnight,after planning for next day’s relief operations,I went to bed.

I was in deep sleep and I heard heavy knocking of door. I got up and saw the time was 2 30AM. I could hear the voice of my Bungalow peon. I opened the door and asked him what happened. He told that BDO Sankrail was on phone line. Generally no one has the guts to disturb his officer at midnight unless the issue is really important. So I went to my Bungalow Office(Bungalow Office is attached to residence but has all communication facilities like phone, Computer,Fax etc and the officer can meet public during holidays). When I lifted the phone I could hear that BDO Sankrail was breathing heavily. He was stammering.He was almost crying. He told that around 10 villages had been marooned(Villages had become island- fully surrounded by flood water) and within next few hours those villages would be submerged totally. First time, I realized that situation was grave and very dangerous. I asked him whether country boats (boats used for fishing by local population) can rescue the marooned villagers. He told that country boats could not go beyond a point because the current was heavy. BDO also told that the youth who went for rescuing in country boats could not go near the villages but could hear villagers crying for help that many were in trees because water level was increasing. So it sent a chill in my backbone. If people were in trees, then any person with common sense would understand that within next 3 hours,these people would be submerged if water level increases. I asked him about water level. He told that still it was raising. I asked him not to worry and kept the phone even though I was thoroughly shaken inside. Immediately after keeping the phone I dialed District Magistrate’s Bungalow Office. I could hear the beep sound which indicated that BSNL phone was dead due to maintenance in Midnapore town(As I did not have BSNL connection,my phone was alive). I then dialed his mobile but unfortunately his mobile was also BSNL connection.I redialled several times hoping suddenly it may ring. It didn’t ring.

I was sitting and smoking continuously without knowing what to do next. I saw my Bungalow Office clock showing 3AM. I thought to wait till 6 am and pass the message to DM through special messenger but again what DM could do.He could requisition army but army cantonment was located in Fort William in Kolkata and it would take at least 5 hours for the Army to reach Sankrail. So even if I sent a special messenger, he could reach DM’s Bungalow in Midnapore not before 4 30 am and so army can not reach before 10 am to Sankrail even if all paper formalities to requisition army were completed in 30 minutes time. If rescue was not completed by 8 am, many would die. Therefore option of sending a special messenger to DM was ruled out.I was cursing myself for not taking BDO’s warning seriously.

I was smoking continuously and was totally helpless.Suddenly it struck me. An IAS probationer who was undergoing training in my Subdivision told me the previous day that she went to purchase some items at subsidised rate in Kalaikunda Airforce Canteen. Kalikunda is an airforce station located in a place called kalaikunda which was in my neighboring Sadr subdivision.But as per protocol, only DM could requisition Army. Another thing which worried me was, even if i broke the protocol whether Airforce would listen to SDO, as later they may have to face serious problems because defence rules are very stringent. Another worry was, who would respond at 3AM. I thought for a minute and decided to take a chance.I took the telephone directory and found Kalaikunda Air force station’s number.I dialed and no one lifted. Again I tried.This time after several rings, a person asked who I was. I explained the grave situation. He told that it was 3 AM and he was just a telephone attendant and asked to call at 8AM. I again explained. Finally he transferred the call to next level in hierarchy. I explained to the next person. He was polite and transferred to some Wing Commander. It was a surprise to me when I heard the voice of Wing Commander. I could make out from his voice that I awoke him when he was at deep sleep but he asked me politely what he could do for me. I told him the situation. He told that he will call me back after discussing with his seniors and got my telephone number. I thought Air Force door was closed because according to their rules they can be asked for help only by DM. So I thought he tried to avoid by telling that he wanted to discuss with seniors, which is a common practice in civil service to buy time without hurting the other party. So again I was back to square one without knowing what to do next.I started smoking another cigarette.

My telephone rang in another 5 minutes and wing commander told that “Station Commandant” of Kalaikunda Airforce Base would call me and kept the phone. Station Commandant is a very very senior person in defence hierarchy and was the senior most officer of airbase and I was very very junior in civil hierarchy. So I was surprised because hierarchy was inbuilt in my system. Another 2 minutes my telephone rang and I heard the friendly voice of Station Commandent. He asked me why I disturbed his sleep at 3 AM in a laughing tone. I explained him the situation. He told me not to worry. From his voice,first time I felt in that night that people would be rescued. In a friendly but firm voice he told that he would start the rescue operation with motor boats immediately and with helicopters from 6 AM onwards. When I thanked him he said," Young man, who are you to thank me.Its my duty for my country".It happened at 3 15 AM when in normal days I would have been in deep sleep and if any person would have asked for help at 3 AM, I would have kicked the telephone if not the person away.After few minutes of explaining the details of rescue operation he kept the phone. Around 4 15 AM, again my phone rang and Sankrail BDO was on the line. He told that IAF personnel had reached the spot with trucks loaded with speed boats.Around 6 AM I could see a helicopter flying. I saluted the helicopter and Indian Air Force and it was a salute from my heart.

(P.S. As usual my DM protected me for breaking the protocol.)

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12:00 बज गए सोना है 3:00 बजे मदद नहीं कर सकता वैसे अमरजनसी क्या है
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Needs some ice and soda ;;:
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Ye to long post nahi na.

@anujgrover

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Chashma pehno Bhai ye bhi long hai

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It was an emotional story yet true https://cdn1.desidime.com/assets/textile-editor/icon_smile.gif
Great barood bhai https://cdn1.desidime.com/assets/textile-editor/icon_biggrin.gif
U always share great stuff

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Was about to sleep, read the title.. and thought who is asking help at 3am in DD, and what help he needs at 3am… https://cdn2.desidime.com/assets/textile-editor/icon_toungueout.gif
So opened and read it.. couldn’t stop till the end. Good story. https://cdn2.desidime.com/assets/textile-editor/icon_smile.gif

Dimer of The Year 2020 Dimer of The Year 2020
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highlighted part + skipped the main content to read the response https://cdn2.desidime.com/assets/textile-editor/icon_toungueout.gif

Deal Cadet Deal Cadet
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U are an IAS officer eek eek eek eek eek eek
Deal Cadet Deal Cadet
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@Alpha.Barood
The post title seems to be legit. By the time I finish reading the post it’ll be 3am.!
If you can explain it in 2 lines..(did you watch happy ending movie, govinda telling “isne padhi hai,Do line mein samjhaya mujhe, acchi story hai”) https://cdn2.desidime.com/assets/textile-editor/icon_wink.gif

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Yeh to wohi baat ho gayi.. Sher aaya, sher aaya,… Sher to aaya hi nahin..!
Moral of the story : never underestimate anyone. & smoking cigarettes is injurious to health

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Have u worked in administration ??

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paper work and formalities time kill atleast 10 % of people..lolz
i think they dont preplanned disaster management.

Offtopic:
in chennai, dam shutters are not open until it reach near overflow, as it already crossed the danger line, and then opened full shutter suddenly causes flood and whole city in water.

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I just read this story on how a daughter was raised and decided to share.

My Dad always sounds it in my ears “Simi, you must be tough. Being girlish and being ladylike is not an excuse for *weakness”.* This he still says to all of us.

All the children were raised to do the “masculine” as well as the “feminine” tasks.

My sisters and I started winding a 15KVA generator as soon as we got one. I learnt how to wash a car (internal and external) before the age of 16.

I started learning driving immediately after secondary school. My Dad told me that before he allows me drive out independently, that I must learn to change car tyres.

I remember I was forming ajebutter and my Dad said to me "If you are driving on a lonely highway and you need to change your tyre, what would you do? You will have to get down and change it…. that’s the common sense thing to do. It’s a survival skill for drivers.

My brother?
He started washing the dishes as soon as he could reach the sink and handle the dishes.

He started cooking simple meals before the age of 10. He started washing his socks and under wears before the age of 7.

He started handling his laundry before the age of 11, when he had to go to boarding school.

In my house, the rule was (still is) that anyone who eats must be able to get involved in the kitchen, when required.

My father tells me I can be president, not first lady. There is nothing wrong with being a first lady, but there’s also nothing wrong with being the husband of the president.

Thus, if you tell your son that he can be president, you should also tell your daughter that she can be president.

The hidden but significant psychology behind this is that telling your daughter that she can be president pushes her to be great,

while telling her that she can be a
first lady
pushes her to aspire to marry a great man,
and probably reduces the needed inspiration to aspire to exercise her maximum potentials.

We need not teach our girls to believe that the best they can be is to exist under the success of a man, their husbands.

It is disfavor to humanity to raise your son with the impression that he is better than other females..

Raise your daughters to understand that they are not inferior to males.

Teach your sons to be as domesticated as your daughters,
and push your daughters
to

attain financial independence
as much as you push your sons.

This way, we will raise a less entitled:
and more responsible generation,
equipped with all vital survival skills,
and with less handicaps.

Charity begins at home, not in the offices or work places.
AND

#Equality_Begins_At_Home

Go tell it to the world, over the hills and everywhere.

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This brought tears down my eyes this morning…its a good read.

The Best Piece I’ve Read This Year!

In the country of Armenia, in 1988, Samuel and Danielle sent their young son, Armand, off to school. Samuel squatted before his son and looked him in the eye. “Have a good day at school, and remember, no matter what, I’ll always be there for you.” They hugged and the boy ran off to school.

Hours later, a powerful earthquake rocked the area. In the midst of the pandemonium, Samuel and Danielle tried to discover what happened to their son but they couldn’t get any information. The radio announced that there were thousands of casualties. Samuel then grabbed his coat and headed for the schoolyard. When he reached the area, what he saw brought tears to his eyes. Armand’s school was a pile of debris. Other parents were standing around crying.

Samuel found the place where Armand’s classroom used to be and began pulling a broken beam off the pile of rubble. He then grabbed a rock and put it to the side, and then grabbed another one.

One of the parents looking on asked, “What are you doing?” “Digging for my son,” Samuel answered. The man then said, “You’re just going to make things worse! The building is unstable,” and tried to pull Samuel away from his work.

Samuel just kept working. As time wore on, one by one, the other parents left. Then a worker tried to pull Samuel away from the rubble. Samuel looked at him and said, “Won’t you help me?” The worker left and Samuel kept digging.

All through the night and into the next day, Samuel continued digging. Parents placed flowers and pictures of their children on the ruins. But, Samuel just kept working. He picked up a beam and pushed it out of the way when he heard a faint cry. “Help! Help!” Samuel listened but didn’t hear anything again. Then he heard a muffled voice, “Papa?”

Samuel began to dig furiously. Finally he could see his son. “Come on out, son!” he said with relief.
“No,” Armand said. “Let the other kids come out first because I know you’ll get me.” Child after child emerged until, finally, little Armand appeared. Samuel took him in his arms and Armand said, “I told the other kids not to worry because you told me that you’d always be there for me!”

Fourteen children were saved that day because one father was faithful.

Fwd -you might be encouraging someone.👍👍👍

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THE IRON IN OUR SOUL

By 5th April, most people had packed their woolens. The sun shone brightly, and the air in Srinagar had a nip, with a hint of pine. I tucked myself in for a well-deserved sleep. The last 24-hours had been hectic and my body is not what it used to be. I crave rest, and a slight change in temperature wakes up broken bones, brutally. I again, by sheer force of habit, turned to Chapter XXII, “Of the Last Fight and the Death of Hector”. Iliad has always fascinated me; Zeus, Agamemnon, Paris, Priam, Hector and Achilles, especially Achilles who was immortal. Or so he thought.

I again grieved for noble Hector and kept down the book, with a silent prayer of thanks to Homer. They say I live in the past. Maybe.

It was at 3 am that I started shivering. I got up and put another blanket on top of the one I had been using, and convinced myself to go back to sleep. I rarely have dreams. That night was no different. But for some reason I was uneasy. I tossed and turned, resisting the desire to resurrect Hector at an unearthly hour. Sleep won, and I drifted back to those dark and smoky depths, which are much of what I see when I sleep.

I woke up to snow. Kashmir has always been an unreliable friend.

Srinagar is an urban mess, accentuated by decades of neglect. Kashmir’s rulers have always abused their state, in the worst ways possible. And what they have nurtured is strife, victimhood, alienation that has little basis in fact, and a second-generation of stone pelters who know no other trade. Kashmir no longer produces poets, philosophers, artists and civil servants. It just produces progressively regressive iterations of Farooq Abdullah and Syed Ali Shah Geelani.

I spoke to everyday Kashmiris, weary of strife and terrorism, who wanted nothing more than to secure a future for their children. They said that sometimes, the simple act of children going to school or a son coming back from college becomes an excuse for celebration.

I spoke to Jawans of Central Police Organizations (Indian Army is not operationally deployed in Srinagar), and could sense a deep pain. They are routinely humiliated by two-penny stone pelters and not permitted to retaliate. I asked a Jawan why criminal elements continued to pelt stones on them, and not the Army. His answer was straightforward. “The last time they pelted stones on Army and tried to interfere in an operation, the Army shot three of them dead. We don’t have that luxury. Unshackle us for a few hours, just a few hours, and that will be the last day of stone pelting in Srinagar,” he said, with suppressed anger.

And then there were those CRPF officers, huddled together in front of the TV on the cold evening of 6 April, eagerly waiting for some anchor to pay respects to their 75 brothers who were martyred in Dantewada. At 11:45 pm, the senior officer got up telling his juniors, “Lets go, guys. You know its not going to happen”.

He looked at me sadly and said, “We were wrong to hope. Soldiers are expendable.”

The visit to 92 Base Hospital at Badami Bagh Cantt was flooded with memories. It was here that I was brought to, evacuated actually, from HAWS (High Altitude Warfare School) in 1996 when my breathing almost stopped. The army doctors here are miracle workers, past masters of dragging back war wounded soldiers from the brink of certain death. They performed a miracle and saved Comdt. Chetan Kumar Cheetah. “He is a soldier. Yes, he is a soldier”, said a senior army medico, repeating it so that I understood. He was giving the ultimate compliment that one Fauji can give another.

My worst fears were confirmed when I was told that Maj. Satish Dahiya breathed his last here. “Stone pelters delayed the evacuation. We could not save him”, said an army medico, fury simmering just beneath the surface. “These stone pelters need to be sorted out, nice and proper”, the good doctor said. In Indian Army parlance, “sorting out” is a wide-ranging term. It can mean any measure of pain inflicted, including death. I was not surprised. The doctors here are lifesavers. But they are also soldiers. As we stood quietly inside the ICU, I realized that all doctors were wearing combat uniform (jungle camouflage) with ranks.

One OPD ward was full of CRPF and Jammu & Kashmir police personnel. Normally, you do not see personnel from other forces in army hospitals (except Navy and Air Force), since all CPOs and police organizations have their own tie ups outside. On asking the reason, I was told that in the past, when locals found out that a CRPF jawan or a policeman was admitted in a civil hospital, they would assault him inside the hospital. There have been cases of locals assaulting jawans inside ICUs.

92 Base Hospital is an Indian Army hospital. There are serious looking men with Kalashnikovs outside. The injured are safe here.

Farooq Abdullah says that we are losing Kashmir. I don’t know if we are losing Kashmir but we are certainly losing our patience. While our soldiers are shedding blood, the Kashmiri separatists and politicians are selling whatever bits and pieces of Kashmir they can find.

Kashmir does not need a healing touch. That bus has left long back. What it requires is immediate surgery. I am not a doctor but I understand that surgery requires the spilling of blood. So be it.

As a first step, the Hurriyat must be made irrelevant, immediately. No one elected them to power. India is a democracy and the only way to power is through the people. If the Hurriyat do not represent the people, whom do they represent? Let the Central Government cut of all their funding and security. Let them roam the streets of Srinagar like normal people. Let them buy their own medicines and their own flight tickets. We spend about INR 100 crores a year on the Hurriyat and other separatists. Lets stop this now. The Central Government must also immediately stop speaking to the Hurriyat. There must be massive outreach to the common man on the street. Some of the alienation is real, while a large part of it is synthetically manufactured. Nonetheless, it must be addressed. And it must be addressed without the Hurriyat.

Declare President’s Rule in Jammu & Kashmir. The Governor will call the shots. We need someone who is ruthless, yet balanced, someone whom the people respect. He has to be a former General of the Indian Army and also someone with vast knowledge of Kashmir and its people; perhaps an ex-GOC of XV Corps. It is beyond my pay grade to recommend names. The distance between Company Commanders and Corps Commanders is as large as that between Earth and Jupiter. I will keep my peace. But those who are plugged into Kashmir know what I am speaking about.

Give back the Central Reserve Police Force (CRPF) its honor. They must have the right to defend themselves. This force needs urgent respite. It is forever in operations. Kashmir to Naxal Operations, North East to Election Duty, Counter Insurgency Operations to Disaster Relief there is a never-ending cycle of extreme pressure.

Hand over Srinagar to Indian Army immediately and put the entire Kashmir Valley under AFSPA. For 10 days, cut off the Valley completely – no Internet, no mobile or landline connectivity, no flights, no TV or radio, no road traffic (incoming or outgoing) and no postal service/ couriers. Then start “housekeeping”. Don’t touch the innocent. Don’t spare the guilty. You have the names and addresses of all those who waved the Pakistani flag and pelted stones. Get the boys to pay them a visit.

Send arrested stone pelters to prison for a year, but never within the state. Nagaland has 11 prisons. Send one stone pelter to each prison. In that entire prison, he will be the only Kashmiri. The language, food, climate; everything that helps identify him, as a person will be absent. Select states that have absolutely no similarity with Kashmir in any manner, where even Hindi is not frequently spoken. States like Manipur, Mizoram, Meghalaya, Tripura, Kerala, Tamil Nadu, Karnataka, Andhra Pradesh and Andaman & Nicobar must be chosen. A hundred prisons must be chosen and a hundred stone pelters must be imprisoned there, just one prisoner for one prison. They will have all the human rights they want – food, rest, recreation etc. No one will be mistreated or even touched. But a Kashmiri in a Nagaland prison may as well be on Mars.

The Kashmiri youth who humiliate soldiers do so because we permit it. They know that the CRPF will not retaliate, unless the provocation is extreme. There is also the matter of the Supreme Court ruling that make it mandatory for filing of FIRs for encounter deaths by armed forces, even in disturbed areas under AFSPA. The Central Government must somehow prevail upon the Supreme Court to overturn this ruling. You cannot fight enemies of the state constantly worrying about how you will have to stand in court, as the accused.

While the Special Operations Group of the Jammu & Kashmir police is doing a stellar job, the regular police have their own challenges. There are regular charges of harassment and fleecing of the populace. Police also stand compromised because they live in the same neighborhood as the stone thrower and the terrorist. They live in constant fear of their lives and that of their families.

India must have an “Enemy of the State Act”, that ensures, among other provisions, that once a person is declared enemy of the state, the property in the person’s name belongs to the government. Using this act, the properties of all leaders of Hurriyat Conference must be attached and then auctioned, the funds used for welfare of soldiers.

There have been talks of trifurcation of J&K into Jammu, Kashmir & Ladakh. This is something that must be pursued with vigor. About Article 370, there are disparate views, each more extreme than the other. Those in defence of the article know even less about it, than those who would abrogate it. The government must put its best legal brains to come up with a solution. Pakistan has already initiated the process of declaring Gilgit-Baltistan as its fifth state, all this due to Chinese pressure and CPEC.

The point I am making is elementary. If we want to be a super power, now is the time to start acting like one. Let’s be practical. Soft states are not invited to sit at the high table of the United Nations Security Council. Human Rights are important, but they are not the reason that the sun rises in the East and sets in the West. Lets not make these rights the cornerstone of our national philosophy. The five permanent members of the UNSC are perhaps the worst human rights violators on earth. And they are the ones who get to point fingers at India’s so-called “excesses” in Kashmir. Russia and China have murdered millions of their own citizens and sent many more to death camps. America has waged more wars than all the other nations on earth combined. England and France have the worst colonial records, marred by plunder and slavery.

To fight terrorists in Kashmir and elsewhere, we use platoon weapons. We use AK47’s, Rocket Launchers (84 mm Carl Gustaf) and Light Machine Guns. We do this so that collateral damage can be restricted. This is our ethos.

When Pakistan carried out Operation Zarb-e-Azb to eliminate terror in North Waziristan and its tribal areas, this is what Pakistani forces used – F-16 fighter jets, Apache helicopter gunships, 203 mm & 155 mm artillery guns and cannon-mounted armored personnel carriers.

And Pakistan brazenly accuses us of using disproportionate force in Kashmir.

We must support Balochistan. Let our embassies have annual seminars on 27 March across the world. This day, Pakistan invaded and occupied a free country and made a proud people slaves. We must educate the world on how Pakistan is indulging in genocide, mostly prodded on by China. The Indian Government must also fund infrastructure for Baloch identity, internationally. Let there be a Balochistan House in twenty major world cities, manned and operated by Baloch people. The responsibility of these Baloch “embassies” will be to educate the country’s government and local population about Pakistan’s shenanigans.

Balochistan must have a Government in Exile in New Delhi, all paid for and protected by the Indian Government. We should divert our funding of Kashmiri separatists to the Baloch. Our largesse is for our friends, and not for traitors. Once this is done, Kashmir will no longer be the raison d’etre of Pakistan’s existence. It will have just too much on its plate.

Kashmir will not find peace because we want it to. It will find peace when we start respecting ourselves.

Kashmiri separatist youth slapping and kicking a soldier is not just demeaning to the uniform. It speaks of a greater malaise, that of a nation unsure of itself. It is not important that we are right. What is important is that we act. Act with finality, precision and when required, with the heel of the soldier’s boot.

Those Kashmiri youth were not insulting our soldier. They were insulting our country. They were committing treason. And we were unable to safeguard the honor of our soldier. This is the soldier we expect will die for us. We have failed him. Let this be the last time. Let us speak together as a nation, loud and proud. Let us roar with all our might.

The punishment for treason is death.

Major Gaurav Arya (Veteran)
#MajorGauravArya #IndianArmy #adgpi # #TheIronInOurSoul

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*Beautiful story *

A beggar came to an emperor and the beggar said, ‘If you are going to give me anything there is a condition.’

The emperor said, ‘What do you mean? What do you mean by your condition?’

The beggar said, ‘This is my condition: I accept only if you can fill my begging bowl absolutely.’

It was a small begging bowl. The King said, ‘What do you think I am? Am I a beggar? I cannot fill this dirty small begging bowl?’

The beggar said, ‘It is better to tell you before, because later you can get into trouble. If you think you can fill, fill.’

The King called his vizier and told him to fill it with precious stones: with diamonds and rubies, emeralds. Let this beggar know with whom he is talking!

But then there was difficulty. The bowl was filled but the king was surprised — as the stone fell into it, it would disappear. It was filled many times and each time it was again empty.

Now he was in a great rage, but he told the vizier, ‘Even if my whole kingdom goes, if all my treasuries are emptied, let them be — but I cannot allow this beggar to defeat me. This is too much.’

And all the treasures, it is said, disappeared. By and by the king became a beggar. It took months. And the beggar was there and the king was there and the whole capital was there and everybody was wondering what was going to happen, what would happen in the end. Everything was simply disappearing.

Finally the king had to fall at the feet of the beggar and he said, ‘Forgive me, but before you leave just tell me one thing. What is the secret of this begging bowl? All has disappeared in it.’

The beggar started laughing. He said, ‘It is made of human ego. I have made this begging bowl of a human ego: everything disappears in it, nothing ever fulfils it.’

It is a tremendously beautiful story. That’s what is happening to you. It is not a story, it is your life.

You go on putting in your begging bowl houses, cars, bank balances — everything disappears.

Again you are empty. Never any satisfaction, never any contentment. Again you are begging.

You have been doing it for many lives. It is your story. It is literally true, it is not just symbolically true.

It is a truth in everybody’s life, in man’s life.

We remain a beggar. The begging bowl remains empty. It seems it has no bottom to it. You drop anything, it simply disappears.

The ego is never fulfilled.

~ Osho
Superb⚡⚡⚡

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THEHEAVENLYPATH

The terrorist ‘boys’ were ten
It was only a question of “when ?”

Hurriyat told them “You will be fine”
But the Army reduced them to nine

For travel to Heaven, they didn’t have to wait
Soon there were only eight

Others​ too wanted Heaven
On earth, were left only seven

The media said “Everything we will fix”
And then there were only six

The remainder said “We are still alive”
The Army reduced them to five

They thought they would be part of folklore
By then, left were only four

Others thought we will always remain free
But Army cut down that number to three

The question was “The survivors are : who ?”
This number had gone down to two

Last man standing is only one
And soon there will be none !!!


@A2Zdeals

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Wah! Barood bhai, Kavita Kavita mein hi dus khatarnaak atankwadi maar giraye… https://cdn1.desidime.com/assets/textile-editor/icon_biggrin.gif

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@anthrax.ut

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सावधान दोस्तों खासकर शादीसुदा मित्र ध्यान से पढ़ें ……..सुकून मिलेंगा और रोमांचित भी होंगे….



कुछ दिन पहले मेरे पास एक फ्रेंड रिक्वेस्ट आई ।
यह किसी दिब्या शर्मा के नाम से थी ।
अमूमन मेरे पास पुरुषों की रिक्वेस्ट तो आती रहती हैं…
मगर इस बार एक सुकन्या ने रिक्वेस्ट भेजी थी सो चौंकना स्वभाविक था ।

एक्सैप्ट करने से पहले मैने आदतन उसकी प्रोफाइल को चैक किया
तो पता चला अभी तक उसकी मित्रता सूची में कोई भी नहीं है ।
शक हुआ कि कहीं कोई फेक तो नहीं है ।फिर सोचा नहीं…., हो सकता है
फेसबुक ने इस यूजर को नया मानते हुए इसे मेरे साथ मित्रता करने के लिए सज्जेस्ट किया हो
प्रोफाइल फोटो नदारद देखकर मैनें अंदाजा लगाया शायद नई हो
और उसे फोटो अपलोड करनी नहीं आती या फिर वो संकोची हो सकती है ,खैर मैनें रिक्वेस्ट एक्सेप्ट कर ली ।
सबसे पहले उसकी ओर से धन्यवाद आया फिर मेरे हर स्टेटस को लाईक और कमेंटस मिलने शुरू हो गए ।

मैं अपने इस नए कद्रदान को पाकर बेहद खुश हुआ, सिलसिला आगे बढ़ा और
अब मेरी निजी जिंदगी से संबधित कमेंटस आने लगे । मेरी पसंद नापसंद को पूछा जाने लगा ।
अब वो कुछ रोमांटिक सी शायरी भी पोस्ट करने लगी थी.
एक दिन मोहतरमा ने पूछा : क्या आप अपनी बीवी से प्यार करते हैं ?
मैनें झट से कह दिया : हाँ.
वो चुप हो गई ।

अगले दिन उसने पूछा : क्या आपकी मैडम सुंदर है ?
इस बार भी मैने वही जवाब दिया :हाँ बहुत सुंदर है ।
अगले दिन वो बोली : क्या आपकी बीवी खाना अच्छा बनाती है?
" बहुत ही स्वादिष्ट" मैनें जवाब दिया ।
फिर कुछ दिन तक वो नजर नहीं आई ।

अचानक कल सुबह उसने मैसेज बाक्स में लिखा “मैं आपके शहर में आई हूँ
क्या आप मुझसे मिलना चाहेंगे”
मैनें कहा : जरूर
“तो ठीक है आ जाइये सिने गार्डन में मिल भी लेंगे और मूवी भी देख लेंगे” ।
मैनें कहा नहीं- "मैडम आप आ जाइये मेरे घर पर, मेरे बीवी बच्चे आपसे मिलकर खुश होंगे ।
मेरी बीवी के हाथ का खाना भी खाकर देखियेगा ।
बोली : नहीं, मैं आपकी मैडम के सामने नहीं आऊँगी ,आपने आना है तो आ जाओ ।

मैंने उसे अपने यहाँ बुलाने की काफी कोशिश की मगर वो नहीं मानी ।
वो बार बार अपनी पसंद की जगह पर बुलाने की जिद पर अड़ी थी
और मैं उसे अपने यहाँ ।
वो झुंझला उठी और बोली : ठीक है मैं वापिस जा रही हूँ । तुम डरपोक अपने घर पर ही बैठो ।
मैनें फिर उसे समझाने का प्रयास किया और सार्वजनिक स्थल पर मिलने के खतरे गिनायें पर वो नहीं मानी ।
हार कर मैंने कह दिया : मुझसे मिलना है तो मेरे परिवार वालों के सामने मिलो नहीं तो अपने घर जाओ ।
वो ऑफलाइन हो गई । शाम को घर पहुँचा,तो डायनिंग टेबल पर लज़ीज खाना सजा हुआ था ।
मैनें पत्नी से पूछा: कोई आ रहा है क्या खाने पर ?
हाँ, दिब्या शर्मा आ रही है ।

क्या !!
वो तुम्हें कहाँ मिली तुम उसे कैसे जानती हो?
“तसल्ली रखिये साहब,
वो मैं ही थी, आप मेरे जासूसी मिशन के दौरान परीक्षा में पास हुए.
आओ मेरे सच्चे हमसफर, खाना खायें, ठंडा हो रहा है …

टाईम रहते पत्नी का मोबाईल चेक नहीं किया होता तो आज यह पोस्ट करने लायक ना होता ।
😃😃😂😂😜😜😜
Men will be men

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These four guys were walking down the street, a Saudi, a Russian, a North Korean, and a New Yorker.

A reporter comes running up and says, “Excuse me, what is your opinion about the meat shortage?”

The Saudi says, “What’s a shortage?”

The Russian says, “What’s meat?”
The North Korean says, “What’s an opinion?”
The New Yorker, says, “Excuse me?? What’s excuse me?”

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