Govind Ballabh Pant ji was clearly a man of many great qualities and public service to the nation. However, he was very traditional in his views of women. ...........The first day all went well and at dusk we reached the village where we were to spend the night. The villagers, always hospitable, insisted on supplementing the evening meal we had brought with us. Later, when it was time to retire, I found that the little village schoolhouse had been swept and cleaned and all our bedding rolls laid out side by side. For some reason I had expected a place of my own to sleep in. Seeing consternation on my face, which I could not hide, one of my colleagues explained gently that this was how it was going to be throughout the campaign, but I must not mind, they would all take care of me. .......Ranjit and I had agreed that we should phone each other whenever possible and give news of how our respective campaigns were progressing. I phoned the second evening. “Everything is going very well,” I
The World moves on. It does so very quickly. I guess it should be that way. But one hopes that it lingers a bit on a few little things. Just a bit. Longer than a blink. Shorter than a wee sigh. What are these little things one may ask? Not just the sun and the moon and the stars and the flowers underneath. But also the glint in a brat's eye. The withering sadness of a lighthouse, a beacon of hope, really, The desolation of a white sheet of paper when words fail you The deafening silence when a heart goes crack in two. The melancholy of an eternal optimist. The World moves on quickly, Perhaps for the best.