Friends

Respecting someone’s anger

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I have heard about respecting friendship, love, elders, poor, sick and all the stuff. “Respecting anger” – a term though practiced many a times but in abstract words understood it for the first time during a farewell party.

In my recent home visit, I was enough lucky to be on the farewell party of my previous boss Mr. SPU , that was govt office. I have heard him speaking well in other officers’ farewell speech with good literary essence. On the day of his own farewell, he could not encapsulate the literary essence, being emotional that time. In plain words he acclaimed all his staffs, and praised the way they worked for the organization. The work in Finance dept. and specially in the state of Bihar, needs person like him for a better work environment.

Long ago, when I gifted him “The monk who.. “, right he was, when he told he is my like elder brother. He is a poet, editor and with a refined hobby of gardening.

Coming back to his farewell speech, his words were like.. “My staff have been cooperative. ….. at the times , I chided or even scolded them, as I could not hold my temper for the mistakes and process. And at the times, I had thought – loosing temper will affect the employee’s moral and repented myself. And I really felt sorry for that, I should not have lost that. But later on I found that as like my other words, they respected my anger well. And truly speaking, I am obliged to their respect. I have no words… “

Though I had never given him a chance of a slightest complaint, as in his words, when I resigned the job – “I was underemployed at the office” ! But about him, he is a emotional persona in fact. And at the same time, a perfectly balanced bureaucrat .

On Emotional Quotient meter, many of us fall in this category. And about respecting anger, the truth prevails, be it employer’s anger, or parents’ anger, friends’ anger or anger of a tired shopkeeper. To a very extent, we can bear it, as most of the time there is a valid reason behind a individual’s anger. Respecting a valid anger pays back – its the truth.

When you call me.

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Whatever I am here, and I do continue blogging just because of some encouragements that came time to time from various bloggers. Today, when I was told to read this post on me, I could not believe myself.

“लगता है बिसरा दिया है। चिट्ठा से सगाई लगता है तोड़ दी है।”

चिट्ठा is a word coined by us for blog in Hindi.

They are true. Once upon a time, I used to be active in Hindi Blogger’s Community. That time there was not even 100 blogs in Hindi. I was even I asked to work for Nirantar team, but connectivity of net was not cheap and smooth those days. And today I don’t read Hindi blogs much around and today I do hop around mostly the English blogs. Even the Hindi write-ups I did keep on this blog only.

And as a result, even today, when Anupji wrote a post on me, that too I did not read. I was informed by Jitu Bhaiya.

Though they told me to continue blogging several times and once Anupji even tried to scold me in one of his comment. But, today crossing everything these words of Anupji have lots of complaint.

“शायद और बेहतर रिश्ते मिल गये हैं।”

In fact, these words are paining me.

From now onwards all my Hindi posts will appear only on http://www.prempiyushhindi.wordpress.com. Please be there too as you have been here.

I shall try to pay back their love.

Headache…

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Generally, I don’t have anything like headache or anything like it. But like few days back, today it again started despite a good night’s sleep.

I did called my Ma, sister, close friends.Picking up phone, Ma guessed out and told to put some mustard-oil drops in the nostrils, that may help my seasonal sinus problem. I tried, it helped me. But still something was there inside to recreate the headache. I called up some of my friends – with whom I felt easy at some or the other point of time.

Some phones ended with busy tone, some friends could not talk as they were busy in sunday afternoon and a few phones switched off. I kept calling – I needed to talk with someone – anyone, otherwise 1200 watts of music system and ready to play hundreds of sound-tracks was also not helping me out at all. I switched the music system off. Staying alone can be sometimes really difficult. And the shape of difficulty is dimensionless. Men don’t cry,but when inner turbulance turns out nothing but just unbearble, sensitive men too do cry. May that help me out. But I tried to abstain – because I am a man !

I called my old buddy – my friend cum brother – Kartickda. About him, I will write in more – that how one last bencher turn out as NET qualified professor. We talked about nice times. A lot of things. Co-incidentally the time I called him, he was also alone at the house.

The old buddies were talked about. How the things moved in past 4 years, were talked about. As I asked about Sudip, one short-heighted friend of him, with whom I have a group snap too. Katickda could not answer promptly – though he is more sensibly stable than me. He told me – Sudip is no more. I could not believe, as I was expecting something like his marriage and kids. First thing came to my mind was the snap, where I was standing near to him. He further explained – how in front of his eyes, Sudip left forever.His pancreas had some problem and it got complicated and Sudip, the Station Master could never see the green flag.

Though he complained, what made me ask about him but he must be pleased to know, how do I still recall his friends so well. Actually asking about him, his pains of loosing a friend get refreshed. We talked for few minutes more – and talked on how other things moved in life.

I got entangled into the thoughts of those many places of staying, so many acquiantances and so many relations weak and strong. What good thing did we carry forward ? – The love, we did shared once upon a time – somehow or other.

I got the answer of the question that revolved around my head to create the headache. To many people it may become again a headache. But today it became my medicine. I do carry ‘something abstract’ – beyond myself being a selfish creature. My headache seems mitigating…

फेयरवेल

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People do come and go. And this ‘and’, many of us believe, is just like a poem. May be the same reason, when everyone was writing wishes on the farewell card of my colleague friend Amit; from me, he personally wished that – I should write a short poem for him on the card. I am reproducing the same here.

आँखें तेरी साथ रही,
बातें तेरी याद रही,
चिंता नहीं थी बाधाओं की,
मित्रता तेरी आबाद रही ।

लिखुँ कुछ तुम्हारे लिए,
आँखें अश्रुपूरित मेरे हूए,
आज दुआएँ मैं करता हूँ ,
तेरा फिर नया सबेरा हो ।

आशीष भेजू, मेरे सारे ही,
और मंगलगीत, प्यारे भी,
सपने जहाँ पर सच होते,
वहीं तेरा एक बसेरा हो ।

Nothing but attitude counts – Freshers’ software jobs

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For last more than 8 months, this never met brother of mine, (another IGNOU student) was my second ‘scolded’ fresher in the job market. First one ‘Pra…’ is happy with her Accenture job.I like to associate myself with these guys, whenever I find time. What I see in these guys / girls- is their attitude to come up all odds and the tendency to win and win. Best organisations need ‘only’ them.

Here is the letter of the same guy I received now. Same feeling arose after receiving ‘Pra…’ SMS “Bhaiya, I got a job in Accenture ! “. And I almost jumped my seat. She got the job, few days before she was about to return back to UP.

For the time being, I am reproducing unedited letter received today for other freshers to read, though ‘Abhi..’ never knew this letter will go public ever ….

Hello Dada,
I have a very good news. I have gotten a job over here at Noida in CSC
(Computer Sciences Corporation) at the position of SAP Basis Administrator.
The Company shall provide all the necessary training and for that i had to sign
off a bond of two years with the firm.

Dada I owe you a lot, it’s because of you that I have been able to aquire
this job. It’s your motivation and guidance because of which I have been able to
prepare, revise and learn many different technologies simultaneously and it’s only
because of this reason that it didn’t take me long to revise Oracle based on which
this interviw took place. In the last whole month I appeared in atleast 3 rounds
of technial interviewin this firm and finally I got selected. My office is also
now very close from my residence. In a way it is very good that I didn’t have to
relocate to Bangalore coz my parents require my attention here a lot more than ever
now. My father especially coz he has been put on Insulin Shots since last two months.
I have only one regret now I wanted to meet you in person which didn’t happen. But
I am sure it will happen soon some time. Dada if you ever happen to cook some plan
of coming over to Delhi even for once please let me know. I am very eagerly waiting.
Also if I ever happen to visit bangalore or surrounding area’s ever I will most
certainly intimate you, and we will meet. ok dada. Please keep in touch. By the
way, I forgot to ask you dada. How is everything going on? How is everyone in your
family doing? please reply soon. waiting eagerly to hear from you.

Regards
Abhi….

Hope none goes unguided. Few more guys are under construction…

Flying High

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Last year, I was returning back to Bangalore. That was my second air-travel ever. The plane was getting ready for the landing. It was hovering on the morning sky. From ‘my’ seat no. 23-A, I looked down the earth, whole Bangalore city looked like a densely dotted grey painting just like Kolkata and Chennai cities.

The plane was getting down to the lower altitude.

The ‘Bangalore’ started looking like a more clear painting than before. The roads were clear, so did the lakes and small forests, and the buildings. I was searching for my locality area or some known big building –‘where do I belong?’ I could not locate them.

Within few minutes – the airport was clearly visible. I felt happy – yeah this is ‘our’ airport. The plane landed on the airport. To be exact, on the earth – where we creature do take birth, eat, sleep, defend, mate and die.

Though it’s different fact that from the Boeing-737, I came out as another man (like thousands of software engineers coming down daily on this airport). But I felt – “Yeah! I am an air traveler now onwards”.

At the airport, I took an auto rickshaw. Passing by the town roads, I was looking towards the corporate buildings, hundreds of flats, houses. Did each occupant feel them, as their own house? Does my house is like just one another one!

As my house was approaching – from distance, I saw – still it looked like a small building. My flower pots were looking like tiny cups. From there, flowers in the pots were not visible at all.

I reached my gate.

Nah! My Earth – My Bangalore – My Airport – My Area – My House – My flower pots and of course I, myself can’t be so small.

I came down the auto rickshaw – and placed the luggage in front of my gate. Paying the auto rickshaw fare, I opened the door of my house, and kept the luggage inside.

I was inside my house, even if it’s rented. I closed the door from inside – I encapsulated myself. The light green walls, the big doors – every thing big! The 2BHK house, neatly kept, well arranged. And to mention there was a big rose flower too in the pot. I was inside my own space – I felt big.

The higher the altitude, the boundary less space, I floated – I felt smaller. The smaller space I encapsulated – I felt bigger – Really Bigger.

Own space is must for each of us as well as the need of flying on higher altitude. Living in the both places, and in matter of myself, to ask honestly, which one I loved most – to feel smaller or to feel bigger?

I guess the former, when I did feel small – really small, inside the plane – floating like an elemental point on the higher altitude – leaving everything – at the mercy of the Almighty.

The Bouquet

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Excuse Me! – Perhaps she told for the second time. She was standing near to me.

“Is that seat no. 8 ?” – She asked politely pointing to the empty window side seat near to me. She was to be my co-traveler on seat no. 8.

I wiped my wet eyes under the specs with hanky. My lost attention from the world of feelings came back to the real practical world.

“Yeah sure!” – I tried to be normal and replied with a possible smile. I came out of my seat to give her way in. Volvo AC buses have enough
space to but the hand baggage. As I reached early, I had already put my bag and my flower bouquet there, so there was relatively less space to put her bag. While standing, she was thinking to put her bag in the luggage space.

“Let me do, I shall keep it.” – I said and took her bag from her. I guessed that my bouquet was taking more space than it needed. I took out the flower bouquet out and kept her bag there. In between the space of my bag and her, I made some space and put the bouquet. Now there was not enough space for the bouquet to lie comfortable. Now one fourth of bouquet along with Orchids were hanging out from the luggage space.

“Thank you” – She told.

“Its Okey”- I gave her way in. She went inside and sat in her window seat.

She looked fair wheatish complexion girl wearing cream colored t-shirt and denim jeans. Though her “excuse me” ascent had pure metro touch but her waist length three pleated tied hairs suggested that her preference to Indian ness again. While keeping her bag I saw the company name “Accenture” on it. May be the company she was working for.

On my seat, I closed my eyes again.

And as started from noon, my headache was unbearable. I closed my eyes again. But since last two hours -don’t know why, the vibrations echoed again and again – the words of Riya – I heard over phone at noon just after I came out the bouquet shop. She never wanted to meet me.

But inside the bus, I wanted to keep my eyes open. The mental situation was, if I open my eyes, my first glance used to go to the big glass in front of driver’s seat – to check if Riya might have come to bus stop and searching me around.

Still 5 minutes were left there before the bus start. Though the mobile was consistently in my hand, it may be the hundredth time I checked out if there was any missed call or a SMS. Some times I felt hallucination that Riya is around here and she called me – “Aakash”.

But she did neither come nor did call me back. More I thought on the words – Riya told me – more migraine type headache was there. I wished to go out of bus for few minutes and sit in the dark corner of bus stand and cry aloud. I wanted some relaxation, even for the moment from the headache that I was suffering.

The girl near my seat took out her earphones and played some soft rock in her i-Pod, as sounds were enough clear to me too. I didn’t have mp3 players. I wished for some time, I should ask for her earphones – may some music help to stop the vibrations of those words in my ears.

Taking out my specs, with the finger tips of my both hands, I tried to massage the area above nose, after wiping my eyes. I was still uncomfortable – and the girl now marked it.

“Any problem ? ” – She asked.

“No, its okey.” – I replied.

“No I just thought you are not well.” – She assured herself and so do I. Her voice though not very soft like my sister, but had some kind of soothing effect that time. And again it was a voice of a girl – I wanted to avoid that – but could not.

The bus started – and the girl did Pranaam touching the forhead with two fingers to forehead and then to neck. Might she did it habitually as many person do while starting the journey.

I was returning back to Bangalore without meeting Riya. I was looking out from the window. The girl was sitting folding hands together. But this girl again reminded of Riya. Do Riya look like her?

The bus was passing through the well illuminated night streets of the metro town. I was consistently seeing outside the window. Might Riya lived in these some streets. But don’t know when my pupils got wet and I had to carry out my hanky again.

Inside the town, the roads had speed breakers in large numbers. At those points the bus used to get slight jerks. In one of similar spot, on the jerk of bus, some little thing from the cabin baggage and fell down on the girl’s lap. It was a purple Orchid from the bouquet. As she was picking it up, with a consequetive jerk one another Pink Orchid fall on her.

I felt bad as the way flowers were falling from above. She picked them up.

“Nice Flowers !” – she told looking at me and picked them up, she got up slightly and put them back into the bouquet.

These words were though complimentary, but was not helping my mental situation any more. Again they were enough to remind me those words of Riya – she told me afternoon. I was unable to believe why Riya told me such things. Was I worth those words? I closed my eyes – the words reverberated my ears. I took out hanky to wipe my eyes in front of a girl !

I was not interested in her words anymore. But one thing I wanted from her. Her i-pod. I knew that’s the only medicine, that may relax me. Asking from a stranger girl was a big challenge and at the time, when she is hearing. But I needed something in the ears.

I thought to keep my ego aside and wished if I can hear her i-Pod for some time, if at least she had any soft corner at her heart.

“Can you let me hear your i-pod for some time?” – I requested her after opening my eyes and moving my head towards her.

She took out her earphones. “Ohk ! you want ? ” – Her expression was affirmative but she was not ready for this request from a stranger.

“Yeah, not feeling well ! Just some music, I want to hear. ” I said her honestly. And I added -” Do you have some Ghazals ?”

“Jagjit !” – She asked.

“Do you have that?” – I was surprised, so did asked.

“Mera fav. (My favourite) “ She replied with a slight giggle and she choose out the tracks and offered me the earphones.

The i-Pod sound was really a great thing- the feeling of a live concert.

Again this was a ghazal lyrics meant something, generated a deep urge again to call Riya for one more ‘last time’. While I was searching for her name, again her words haunted me hard, overriding the ghazals. Now instead of “call” button I thought to press “switch off” button. But I did not.

I was feeling bad as I was using her i-Pod and guilty for myself, as I am using her i-pod. Even then for around 20 minutes, closing my eyes, I was listening tracks after tracks and the girl was looking out of the window. The bus moved out of the town.

At Reliance Petrol pump the bus stopped for fuel. The inside lights were switched on. I took out my earphones, wiped them and offered her back.

“Thanks a lot ! ” – I said

“Its okay” – she replied and added “If want, you can hear more.” I was feeling much obliged for the soft corner in her heart.

“Nah listened enough, I have some work.” – I replied with a smile. I took out my dairy from bag and pen from pocket to write down an impromptu poem to purge out my inner turmoil. I kept the dairy back inside the magazine holder hanging in front of my seat.

The girl continued to hear with ghazals, as sounds and tracks were enough clear to be heard to me too. Though I felt uncomfortable place to write a poem there, I had to hide from the girl what I was writing.

The bus was coming out of the petrol pump towards the highway but suddenly it took a sudden break, as some stray Animal was passing by.
With this sudden break, we seemed to bent forwards and consequently some rose petals and again a purple Orchid from the hanging bouquet fell on her neck.

Within a while the bus moved smoothly on the highway. I guessed this girl will crush me for carrying such things and keeping there.

“Nice Orchids !” was her compliment again and she put them back and adjusted back the bouquet moving inside slightly

“Some one presented?” – she asked with a smile adding to the compliment.

“No” I replied and moved my head towards the boring video. But I could not stop to add “Was to be presented.”

“Okey, you bought for someone!” and she put her earplugs again.

I did not reply.

In the bus I don’t know when a video had started. Some movie of Sunil Shetty was going on.

“I dislike this fellow (Sunil Shetty – the main character of movie) ” she told me , “What kind of boring movie they put !”

I was not much a movie buff, so I could not talk with her much about the movie, me too felt that it was boring movie and the CD being played is scratched one.

Though interesting were the formal talks, but still I was not interested in her talks much, as again she was again a stranger of journey. But all her talks were taking me to my past and the woman’s voice – the words – Riya told me over phone, when I was packing bouquet for her that noon. I was just nodding.

Taking my hanky on face I closed my eyes – as neither had I wanted to see the movie nor I wanted to talk with the girl.

At the dinner time, the bus stopped again near to a good dhaba. I wanted to have some dinner. And the girl preferred to keep sitting, as she had some snacks with her in the bus. I came down and ordered a dinner plate. Since morning I had nothing that can be as meals. While taking dinner, with the recurring thoughts, still I could not finish the half dinner plate. I paid the bill and came out of dhaba. While other passengers were having sumptuous dinner, I walked around the bus. For around 25 minutes, the bus stood there. I got into the bus when driver started the engine.

She was having some “Goodday ” biscuit. She offered me with a friendly gesture. I took half biscuit though I was still hungry – to be exact not for food, but some soothing words.

May Riya call me up.

The girl on seat no. 8, though I was avoiding her, the fact was, she was an outgoing personality, I am sure. We talked formally. She was from Pune, but born of mixed culture parents. She worked at Accenture as Database Administrator. And was inspiring for CAT 2007. She brought up the topics of monday office that both of us had to reach. Subsequently, she brought up the topic of movies and than hobbies including blogging and to my surprise poems. Her liking was Chayavadi writers of Hindi. Hariwansha Rai’s Madhushala was her favourite.

While talking about poems, I remembered and saw my diary, kept in the front magazine holder, just sometime ago, I have written down a poem. The diary seemed to be kept in different direction than I kept. For a moment, I thought this girl might had read my diary, while I was down for dinner. May be she knew that, I was writing a poem at petrol pump stoppage. But I crushed myself for bringing up such a suspicious thought on a stranger girl, who was kind enough to lend me her i-Pod to hear. Might I myself have kept diary like that, as I was not in a sound mental condition.

We talked again on some other topics, but I was less interested still than her.

After some 20 minutes, she pulled out the earphones and spread up her blanket over her. I tried to sleep watching the boring movie and tired body.

I didn’t knew that when I slept. I suddenly became conscious when around late night, I found that I had my head lying on her shoulders, unknowingly. I felt really awkward. I positioned myself and slept again – but headache was less now.

I wake up around 6:20 pm and saw the morning at Bangalore. She woke up much before me perhaps, and sitting straight as if she was ready to get down, though Bus Stand was still 10 minutes away.

My guess was correct.

“I will get down here near Flyover.” and she told came out with her bag.

She bid me bye and went near to door to get down. This professional styled “bye” I disliked most.

She got down. The waist length hair though not much thick, but reminded me something. She looked more fair than, what I saw in night. She walked away and disappeared.

I was to get down the main bus stop after 5 minutes. The bus entered the bus stop and everyone was ready to get down. Being though I was sitting on the front seats, still I didn’t felt hurry to get down. There was a deep feeling that, my journey was incomplete.

All passengers got down. An elderly person and me were taking the luggage out. I decided to leave the flower bouquet inside the bus only, pushing it more inside the luggage cabin.

On the seat no. 8, I saw more rose petals and Orchids were lying, might have fallen the overnight.

I took out the diary from the magazine space. And I saw a white paper like ticket sneaking out from my diary, that was tucked inside my diary.

It looked same just like my bus ticket only. But my ticket was kept in my purse – how it came here?

I saw the reverse side of the ticket. It was someone else’s ticket. In the reverse blank area in a curly handwriting – someone had written.

“Best of wishes for your poems – I loved them. ” – Anu83@_ _ _ _ _ .com.

“What !!” – I was dumb struck. I saw again the seat no. 8 to recall the lady and the ticket at the same time. Was this the reason that at Dhaba, the diary changed its direction? – “She wrote it, but when?”

I was not willing to carry this complimentary ticket with me. I felt as my flower bouquet though now may be one day old one, but – that needed it more than me.

I pulled out the flower bouquet from the luggage cabin and gently tucked the complimentary ticket deep inside the flower bouquet. I kissed the bouquet. I kept it inside the luggage cabin again.

I came down the bus as last passenger.

Persona Tags

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So many tags I do carry myself, given by people around, time to time as per their love and hate. The exact words may range from Buddhu to Buddhiman , Pagla to Polite, Neta to Old movie character, Besharam to Brilliant , Software engineer to All rounder. I do carry all of them like stars of any defense personal to glorify myself ! On a serious note, gone are the days, when I used to care for them – the whatsoever personality is made till now, needs hardships to polish it up.

Its not exact analogy but something related to physical tag, that we do wear around necks. One day I needed to give my official tag card to one of friend, who was walking few stairs down, than I was actually present. I told him to catch that. He caught it and knowing let it fall down down in between the spirals of stairs gap. It flews down in the air to touch the ground floor. And he walked up smiling without caring for taking that up.

It was a friendly prank solely. We laughed as we 7 collegues were there. But in reality, seeing my tag falling down, because of his prank – my heart bleed. It was an unexpected prank. The acid test of mine again. Apart from friendly kicks to him, while getting down myself, I kept silent with smile. I picked that up and walked up.

I smiled despite the fact that I was really hurt.

Now only 3 hours of this incident had passed. The same guy needed to leave for outstation. He came up with his own tag – “Prem, can you keep it till… ?”

Taking his tag from his hand again with the smile, I just told – “Dear, just see, I am keeping your tag so safe in my pocket and never play such pranks.  From you, I never expected that.” – To him, even telling sorry needed courage, he felt unable to keep eye contact with me any longer and left.  (And I know the bonds got stronger.)

Wrapping the ribbon around the tag, I kept his tag safe in my pocket.

Now I don’t wonder when the tags are replaced by some other things. And by nature, history do repeats itself.

Please do pray for Yugi

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Yugandhar (Yugi) is a Jawahar Navodaya Vidyalaya kurnool, A.P. alumni.

Yugi’s mother has only one kidney in her body and as well he too have a single kidney in his body. Holding hands of his thin mother, he came out of the hospital Hyderabad Kidney Center after 6 hours of dialysis. To an unknown they may look like just another sick person coming out the hospital, unless one knows the story in full.

Yugi’s mother used to be a proud village mother of two intelligent sons, Koteshwar and Yugandhar (Yugi), who got through the Navodaya Vidyalaya scholarship exams. A family with father, uncle and everyone else proudly lived happily with its existence.

As the teenagers they came out of the school passing the 12th exam, as normal healthy boys and joined the professional courses.

Their mother carried one X chromosome, the carrier of alport’s syndrome. She never knew it. As she was just a carrier, without affecting her health or showing any symptom. And as the sons born from the mother’s ill fated womb, they carried the mother’s X chromosome.

The chromosome when carried by sons from such mother carrier in most cases, leads to failure of their kidney as they reach 20’s and 30’s !

As Koteshwar reached their 20’s the X-Chromosome carrying the Alport’s syndrome started showing its dreaded effects. Koteshwar’s both kidneys started failing miserably. Getting a kidney is much harder than getting lakhs. Her mother promptly gave her one of the kidney to save the life of his elder son.

What about their father and uncle and other male family members? – Everyone was killed brutally by Naxalities, for nothing but to make headlines in the papers!

The family was devastated. The mother with his sick sons was forced to leave the village.

Elder son, Koteshwar tried to relive with the donated kidney of mother. One day he was out of home and never came back.

Koteshwar’s younger brother, Yugandhar too developed the same symptoms of kidney failure when he reached his 20’s. Doctors gave a deadline for kidney transplantation from some donor. It was a tough task to find a donor from relatives, as now the rules are strict that only family members can donate kidney. Seeing none around, mother prayed to doctors to take her lone kidney to her son and save his life. The things were taking a bad shape – the media noticed the case and did the rest job.

A healthy lady with consent of her husband came out to donate the kidney, without asking for a penny. As donor was not a relative – hence we alumni have to take a lot of exceptional legal and medical permission for this transplantation.

Now we required lakhs of Rupees, we asked for money from different sources. It was a really tough task. Even then we came out more than 2. 6 lakhs across the global alumni and welfare organizations. Currently more donations have poured in. I personally went through the nicely written donations and expenditure details in the beautiful handwriting of Yugandhar himself.

The transplantation for Yugi was done one day. And the mother cried when the marathon transplation operation was successful. Months passed off ! Fortunately in the same hospital, one of our alumni is a doctor.

Many a times, when all the doors seemed closed, some lights come in the dark. Now with the lights around, his body accepted the new kidney in his body.

And still he is not to the normal life.

I could not carry any fruit, Horlicks or any edibles, as everything is forbidden for him even in juice form for time being. And on one occasion, while we 4 friends were sitting near to Yugi, his mother went down the hospital and carried 4 bottles of Slice for us, from some shop. We were helplessly seeing her, this motherhood, we could do nothing, but took that.

But recently some news came alarming to us.

As he has to go regular urine check-ups, he was found with abnormal levels of constitutents. Ketone level reached to 15 mg/dL, whether normal person have less than 2mg/dL .

He is undergoing frequent dialysis. Another Navodayan doctor Srijana is trying, her proved Homeopathy medicines too for his kidney acceptance in the body.

Now experts are saying that this is turning out the case of kidney rejection. Even with proper treatment, there is only 20-30 % chance of his survival.

The fact is there are two persons -a Mother and a Son. Each having just one kidney, and same willingness to live more years together. Money is not a problem now – we need something more and that costs nothing to us.

Please do pray for their health and long life, whatever you can ….