Winding Down

What is the age at which one should begin to think of uncluttering life? Fifty, sixty or three scores and ten? Now that I am quickly approaching sixty I think the time has come to take stock of belongings, desires, missions, targets, relationships and to-do-lists.

Why do I think so, you may ask. Ain’t I still productive, have enough energy and drive to deliver for the society and doesn’t being active keep one young? I surely want to remain young, or at least remain youthful like a young man. Who doesn’t? But, I can see the horizon in the distance, where the sky meets the sea. I also see the sun, well past its zenith, though burning bright, is speeding towards it. Can I stop its descent? Can anyone? I have discovered a special vision now - I can see around things. I can see behind what is before me, and I see the rainbow meeting the earth, a beautiful rainbow, however.

I have no misgivings in my mind that I am here to change the game or its rules, not any more. There is the next generation, the vivacious and the driven, who thinks so now. So, no high-octane gas fuels my drive now; I ride a sedate sedan - easy and comforting. The sedan must be light and nimble, though. So, what do I do with my five hundred book collection in two large Victorian cupboards? What do I do with the cupboards themselves? My lead-crystal glassware, which I collected to serve the finest brews to my connoisseur friends, looks at me sadly and reminds me that my friends too are on the same path as mine.

The book that I wanted to write and had been putting off for the day, when I would have time to invest, should now wait since the time I have on the planet has many demands on it, the least of which is of writing a book. So, should I dust that forgotten recliner and at least read up some of my library? I kept buying self-help books on how to win friends, how to cook that chicken soup for my soul, my collection of management books that were to teach me how to motivate, how to run a startup and what kind of boss I should work for - they all seem purposeless. I have gotten by rather well without their help. 

Do I really need to go out and see the world now, when I am free from encumberances, or will be soon? The Caribbean cruise, the Egyptian pyramids, the Louvre - haven’t I seen enough even though I may have missed those. Does bucket-list tourism make any sense, or spending time with the ones you loved makes for a more fulfilling life?

What about the lovely furniture that we curated so longingly, the silk drapes and the satin covers? Do I have enough of them, or an excess of them? Is it even a question to ask at this stage? What about the electronics - the hi-fi music setup, the gadgets and watches? Do I still renew them every few years? How many such renewal cycles do I have left?

Will I still be beguiled into desiring and acquiring more, or will I begin to shed baggage? The nest is empty, yet it is full. One thinks that one should buy a new car, and a large one, so that it could carry the whole extended family - children and grand children - once they all gather together. Should I buy a new car at all? Will I be fit enough to drive it after five years, ten? Should I move into an old age home? Would it not steepen the downward incline to be in the company of setting and dimming suns?

What are the commitments one had made and to how many people? Let’s get together one day, let me come by and say hello to you the day I get some time, O! Shouldn’t we, the old gang, reminisce over a few drinks and go back in time. If only one had the time! When I look back twenty years and wonder if there will be another such looking back after another twenty years, I don’t get a sure answer.

So, I ask myself, “ Should the next five years, or ten or twenty, be lived easily or more intensely?” Isn’t there so much that is left unfinished? Isn’t a five year period now far more valuable than it was twenty years ago? Should I begin to wind down and leave the reins, which I never actually controlled, or should I make up for the lost time one last time?

I am undecided.

The Death of the Conference Circuit

Some call it the cocktail circuit. To attend one of those you had to pay an entry fee of $1500, then travel and hotel expenses would add up to say, another $2000. If you were a presenter or speaker, some organizers would let you attend all other sessions free or at a discounted rate. Of course, there were coffee, cookies and “networking dinners” thrown in. Some sight-seeing too, if the locale was exotic – wasn’t that the basic idea, to begin with? One could then also write a new bullet point in the CV and earn some bragging rights back home or in office.

COVID-19 and the restrictions it has imposed on our lives, vis-à-vis travel, congregation, hotels stays, buffet walk-around-dinners and the collective boat-rides on the Seine, Thames, Tigris or Lake Cuomo, Why didn’t someone think of videoconferences, zoom meetings or the mighty Webex earlier?

Well, the number of conferences and seminars have not gone down; they have skyrocketed on the contrary, in a new avatar, the “Webinar”. So, while I never understood the fine distinction between a conference and a seminar, I feel vindicated now that they are all clubbed as Webinar. It is now so easy to send emails to prospective attendees with the schema of the next Webinar, which would be addressed by the most burnished luminaries on the planet. Now, whereas the organizers would earlier charge an attendance fee, set deadlines for registration and offer a $5.50 discount to early-birds, they now request, almost plead on bended knees, through repeated emails and phone calls, “Oh, please, please, Sir! Do join the webinar. At least the opening session.” Once you acquiesce, you name is added to the list of “participating luminaries” to lure even more luminaries to participate.

The speaking luminary has agreed in advance since he/she is now spared the travel, time-out-from-office and now addresses the audience through a pin-hole on a table-top “device”. The paradigm of eye-contact has changed to eye-camera contact and even the shyest speaker pulls it off with aplomb. The luminary speaker also, regrettably, loses out on his fat speaking fee and free travel and stay, away from the humdrum of monotonous office routine.

O! How I mourn the death of a major corporate perk that has vanished into thin air – one of travel and holidaying at the employer’s expense and a chit-chat with a long lost friend, who may be on the same jaunt. How I miss the cocktails and the networking dinners! And, don’t forget the faux-leather shoulder bag stuffed with sanitized handouts, sanitized in the business way not medical or hygienic. The generations to come will never know that there were events called conferences and seminars that laid out the chart humanity must follow. Maybe they will gawk and wonder at some rundown ruins of conference venues just the way we admire the Forum of Rome.

Of High Perch and the Hard Ground

It is necessary to know your men if you want to go beyond the incremental and deliver magic. The difference between a leader and a manager is stark even though books have been written to explain it as if it was a fine and indistinguishable gap.

A manger sits on a high perch and expects the men to deliver on the ground. So, they do deliver, but just the way they have been doing and maybe a bit better. A leader is out there with his team roughing it out on the ground and in the trenches, and makes them leap to heights neither they nor he himself ever thought was possible. For a leader the sum is alway more than the parts; in fact it is not a sum, but a new number altogether. A leader doesn’t do two plus two to make four; he puts them march together and makes a twenty-two. Being out there in the field doesn’t necessarily mean working on that nut and bolt. It means being able to wield the spanner and show them how it is done if the occasion arises, and in good faith.

As one grows in the organisation the size of the team assigned to him grows and a time comes, when knowing all one’s men becomes impossible. While it is true that the team directly reporting to a senior manager (I prefer leader) is still small and it is possible to know them intimately, the satisfaction of knowing all the men out there diminishes. What does a people’s man, the leader, do under such circumstances?

What does a leader do, when there are a thousand men working in the organisation or ten thousand? This is a question that has been frustrating me for years. Even as one wishes one could put one’s hand on the fellow worker’s shoulder and ask about his welfare, health and family, it is not possible as a regular behaviour. You simply can’t know all of them personally.

But, nothing prevents from letting your people know you intimately. It is the next best thing if your men look at you and see in you “their man”. If you walk among them, each one of them should bond with you even if you can’t do the same, to the same degree, in return. The biggest proof of being owned by your men is that one of them, anyone of them, can walk up to you without fear and hesitation, look into your eyes, and speak with you. The feeling is electrifying. 

If your men break into a smile upon seeing you, if they think they can come to you with a problem and go back with a solution, if they meet you with sadness and go back with hope and reassurance, they will deliver magic for you.

This is not to say that a leader should shirk from taking tough decisions or being unpleasant when the occasion demands. But when one does that, people understand.

(please pardon my use of the word “men” repeatedly. There is no gender bias, just the need to let the language flow easily)

मेरी तप की आकांक्षा और मोक्षमार्ग की बाधाएँ

पुराने ज़माने में ऋषि मुनी बात-बात पर तपस्या में लग जाते थे। क्रोध पर नियंत्रण नहीं रहा तो पर्वत पर पाँच वर्षों की तपस्या, काम वासना में मन फिसला तो किसी गहन कंदरा में दस वर्षों की कठिन तपस्या आम बात थी। इन तपस्याओं को भंग करने के लिये क्रमश: राक्षसों और अप्सराओं की व्यवस्था भी थी, जो परीक्षा को और भी कठिन बना देती थी।

अब मुझे कोई ये बताए कि अपने कामकाज से पाँच दस वर्षों की छुट्टी कैसे मिल जाती थी उन्हें? फिर कुल जमा सत्तर अस्सी वर्षों की ज़िंदगी में तीस चालीस साल तपस्या और प्रायश्चित में ही निक़ल जाएँ, और कोई बीस साल बचपन के घटा लें, तो बचे कोई पंद्रह साल। अब इसमें कोई क्या जिये और क्या प्रमाद और पाप करे?

कभी कभी उकताहट में मेरी भी इच्छा होती है कि पाँच सात वर्षों की तपस्या पर निकल पड़ूँ। पर मेरे संसार से विरक्ति के निर्णय पर पानी फिर जाता है कि साल भर में कुल जमा आठ दिन आकस्मिक अवकाश के मिलते हैं। अर्न्ड और मेडिकल लीव इत्यादि मिला दें तो महीना, सवा महीना और। इनमें आधे तो धर्मपत्नी की शॉपिंग में बैग और टोकरियाँ उठाते ही निकल जाते हैं। एक बाबा ने कहा, बेटा एक्स्ट्राऑर्डिनरी लीव लेकर मेरे साथ हिमालय चला चल। वहाँ तुम्हें दीक्षा दूँगा और तपस्या के गुर सिखाऊँगा। बाबा इतने आत्मीय तरीक़े से बोल रहे थे कि एक बार तो मुझे लगा कि तस्करी के गुर सिखाने की बात हो रही है। पहले तो मैं ख़ुश हुआ कि पाँच साल तक घर दफ़्तर के झंझटों से छुटकारा मिलेगा और मेरी अनुपस्थिति में बॉस और पत्नी दोनों को मेरी कमी खलेगी और मेरी क़ीमत पता चलेगी।

पत्नी ने मेरा प्लान सुना तो बिना सिर उठाए बोलीं, “जाते हुए रास्ते में ज़रा मेरा मोबाईल मरम्मत को देते जाना और ड्राईक्लीनर के यहाँ मेरा शॉल दे देना; मैं वापस मँगवा लूँगी।” मैंने कहा कि भागवान मैं पाँच साल के लिये जा रहा हूँ। वे बोलीं कि फिर अख़बार वाले को बोल देना कि इंडियन एक्सप्रेस बंद कर दे, मैं तो हिंदुस्तान टाईम्स पढ़ती हूँ। और हॉं, होमलोन, कार लोन और आईफ़ोन के ई एम आई भरने का इंतज़ाम करते जाना। इतना सुनते ही तपस्या के मंसूबों पर पानी फिर गया। ये कमबख़्त ई एम आई भी ग़ज़ब की बीमारी है, लगी तो छूटती ही नहीं। अरे बीमारी क्या, बंधुआ मज़दूरी है, साहब।

फिर सोचा कि घने जंगल में गुरु और उनके चेलों ने खाना पकाने और झाड़ू पोंछा का काम दे दिया, तो ना तो तपस्या और चाकरी हो पायेगी, और ना ही भागा जायेगा। ये साधु लोग दस दस साल की तपस्या में खाते क्या होंगे? आस पास के फल और कंदमूल तो कुछ महीनों में निपट जाते होंगे। और अपना कोई खेती बाड़ी का भी अनुभव नहीं है कि सिंधु घाटी सभ्यता से प्रेरणा लेकर गाँव ही बसा लूँ। और फिर गाँव ही बसाना था तो संन्यास क्यों लेना?

फिर सोचा बिग बास्केट या ज़ोमैटो को ही रेगुलर सप्लाई का एडवांस ऑर्डर दे कर प्रयाण करूँ। पर उन्होंने वेबसाईट पर पूछा कि अपना पिन कोड डालें। अब दंडकारण्य और हिमालय की कंदराओं का भी पिन कोड होता है भला?

कुल मिलाकर निष्कर्ष यह है कि समस्त ईश्वरीय और सांसारिक शक्तियाँ मेरी शांति और मोक्ष की राह में बाधाएँ बन खड़ी हैं। चलिये छोड़िये, मेरे कार्यालय जाने का टाईम हो गया। निकलता हूँ, नहीं तो बॉस झणमात्र में विरक्ति के मार्ग पर धकेल देगा।

Remembering Father on Mother’s Day

Loss of one’s father is a shock that is impossible to recover from. Don’t get me wrong. Mother is no less important. Mother is the very essence of your being - she brings you into this world, suffers sleepless nights so that you sleep soundly, bears with your tantrums, sicknesses, understands your needs even before you express them and provides the very basis of emotional well being. Loss of one’s mother is devastating.

But, when father leaves the world, the feeling is of complete rudderelssness. Who would you go to explain your grown-up problems, who is your sounding board now? Where is the person by whose side you would just sit and sip your tea saying nothing, but all is understood and shared? One feels like a branch adrift in the waves after the collosal trunk of the tree has been cut and taken away. Where does the rootless branch find its moorings now?

After months of grieving one realises that this rootless branch is actually the colossal trunk to its own little branches and must, therefore, dig in. One must therefore bear and move on. Easy to say, but one must now grieve within, not outwardly.

An Ode to Babugiri

I had an interesting incident in Southern Railway, a typical babu response to a routine matter. The response was meant to impress all and sundry how on meticulous the Finance babu was and that nothing could sneak past his x-ray eyes. 

A purchase order was held up by a junior officer in Finance because the initial indent for material was not made on pink paper. Even though the indent had gone through the stages of vetting, issue of tender and tender committee proceedings, each of which stage has a finance officer in the picture. Yet, when the purchase order went to finance for final vetting, the section officer raised the matter and stopped the P.O. An officer, who would not trust his own judgement and be guided to the hilt by a subordinate ministerial staff, promptly issued a letter station that since the PINK paper was missing, someone had better explain the unpardonable lapse.

I spoke with the Principal Financial Advisor,  my counterpart, on the absurdity of it all. He would have none of it - if the rules say pink, it must be pink. I then enquired of him as to how a PINK indent would now be prepared as all indents and further handling of it has been made online. Then, I sent a poem composed by me to the PFA.

The gentleman was a South Indian, but he had studied in IITD and spoke, wrote and understood Hindi well. He then took it rather sportingly and responded in equal measure. Here are the documents.

DREAM URBAN LIFE - Any takers anymore?

What fun is living in a metropolitan city if there are no movies, clubs, restaurants, parties, music festivals and lit-fests? Over time cities have become centres of business, culture, art and intellectual discourse. The rising density due to migration to urban areas was fuelled by a desire to be a part of it all. Not long ago the same cities had been killing fields of infectious diseases and the raging Corona has established it once again.

As those services in the cities, which make them cities in the first place, shut down or tone down, there will be a massive job-loss. All the restaurants, multiplexes, theatres, malls, retail, exhibition and marriage halls, catering services and consequently hotels, transport, taxis, buses and metros bring down scales and frequencies of services they will necessarily shed workers. Who will, then, pay high rentals of city apartments? So, whether those rendered jobless will find gainful employment or not is a big question, we can be sure that they can no longer afford expensive city living.

So, as people migrate away from big cities will big business follow them? We don’t know since it was always the other way round. Maybe big business will not exist after all. In any case as many establishments and people working for them have found that work from home works equally well, why live in unaffordable housing as the home can now be anywhere.

Killing of Sadhus and Attack on Arnab (What is amiss?)

Killing of Sadhus in Palghar is disturbing no doubt, but such motivated attacks have been common. Attack on Arnab is also understandable since journalist are often attacked in our country. What is not acceptable is the way the police, the first stage in law enforcement, behaved in both cases.

There is clear video evidence that four policemen stood by while the Sadhus were mercilessly beaten for over half an hour by a brutal mob until they died. Not only did these policemen did not act, the video suggests that they were walking around inside the murderous circle and probably even prevented escape of the Sadhus if not prodded the mob further. Four policemen with guns are enough to drive away a violent mob simply by using their guns. What are the guns provided after all if not to protect the innocent and to dissuade a criminal? No action has been taken against these policemen. So, that raises the level of culpability to their bosses too.

Arnab, a famous and intrepid journalist, had to spend ten hours in a police station simply to lodge a First Information Report. Imagine the plight of a common citizen, who is ever pitched against the high and mighty. Even after ten hours and pleading with the DCP, the sections of the IPC were toned down in the FIR to facilitate the goons to be set at large with easy bail and possibly even escape any meaningful and exemplary sentence. The police ignored the statement of one of their own, who was deputed as a security guard of Arnab. Even when the policeman guarding Arnab specifically identified the culprits with a political party, there was great reluctance in his own department to accept that. Well, an FIR is just what if suggests - a First Information Report - It should record all the information, which is first available. But, FIRs are often filed with an ultimate objective.

An honest and neutral police is the first step towards a deterrent yet fair criminal justice system. So, while you may be outraged over the murder of the Sadhus and the attack on Arnab, do shed a few tears for the criminal justice system, which fails us again and again with no correction in sight.

On the the First Engineers’ Day After Train-18

In my SCRA interview I was asked a simple-sounding question, “So you want to be an engineer?  Can you name five engineers of the country?”

Pat I replied, “Vikram Sarabhai, Meghnad Saha, Satish Dhawan ... .” The interviewer corrected me, “They are scientists. I want names of engineers.” “Umm...” I said, “Visweswaraiya.”

“Correct, give us four more names.” I couldn’t.

A scientist gives us a new theory, even a new design. He gives us a Fast Breeder Nuclear Reactor, a Chandrayaan or DNA Sequencing. An engineer puts the science through a multiplication process. He sets up factories and economic means to mass produce satellites, rockets, reactors and Automatic DNA Sequencing Machines. He converts the wispy dreams of scientists into concrete, steel and semiconductors. A scientist is often allowed to fail, not an engineer.

I am privileged to have worked with a brilliant team of engineers in the Integral Coach Factory that designed and put together the Train 18, or the Vande Bharat Express, the first ever semi-high speed train made in India.

The Vande Bharat Express has run uninterrupted for seven months without a single failure or mishap. Unfortunately, its success became its undoing just as its mass production plan was laid out.

Crisis in the Indian Automotive Sector! Really?

Media is agog with the crisis in Indian Automobile Industry - sales are down, losses are mounting, there is unsold inventory and so on. Well, this may sound outrageous, but have the Indian car makers heard the word called “DISCOUNT”. 

Our farmers lose money, not only due to low procurement prices, but also due to problems that are well known, but beyond their control. Land holding are small making farming increasingly unviable. Input costs are rising. Middlemen buy low, hoard and then sell high cornering all profits. Most marginal farmers are deep in debt; some even commit suicide in despair. Yet, they don’t stop farming, nor do they leave the land fallow for a crop season the way car factories are shutting down production for a few days every month.

Mobile phone makers have to grapple with an intensely competitive and fast saturating market. They must continuously innovate to make new models and sell for minimal profits. They have to clear old stocks at massive discounts. They are not shutting down either. 

Neither farmers nor mobile phone manufacturers are going to town crying copious tears over losses, drop in sales, high taxes or unsold inventories. They get up and brace for another season of cropping or innovation respectively.

Why don’t car majors sell a ten lakh car for five lakhs to clear inventories? After all, the real estate sector is doing exactly that. Why don’t they innovate and bring down their price tags? Maybe we have pampered them too long. 

An aspiring India was fascinated with owning personal cars, but no more. We still want a new car, even the first car in life, but give us a deal Mr. Car Manufacturer! I will shed no tears over your loss of business. We have borne with you for nearly three decades of poor quality, barebones designs, indifferent after sales service and and high prices. No more.

Thank you.

Tête-à-tête with Gupta Ji

One gets a call in the morning, “Namaste, Sir! Gupta speaking, Sir!” Or, “Sir, Sharma here.” 

Now there are a million Guptas and half a million Sharmas around. I know a few thousand of them each. But, I don’t have the heart to ask the caller, “Gupta who?” Or, “Kaun Sharma, bhai?” Sometimes they are more specific, “Sir, AK Gupta here” or PK Sharma speaking, Sir!” That doesn’t give me a clue either since I probably know at least two dozen AK Guptas and a dozen PK Sharmas. 

The caller is so warm in his introduction and expects that I place him immediately in the galaxy of Guptas and Sharmas that I play along, “Yes, yes, Gupta! How are you doing?” Now, this is a pit I have dug for myself. The guys is elated for having reignited the old aquaintance and I, on the other hand, cannot retrace my steps anytime now and ask, “But, Gupta who?” So, I converse away tentatively, trying all the while, to exactly pinpoint which Gupta I am speaking with. This is how it goes.

Gupta says, “Sir, it is great to see you going places.” I am not sure whether Gupta is speaking about my transfers or my promotions.

I reply, “Yes thank you, Gupta. Where have you been all these years?” I ask a probing question and expect to identify the guy from his chain of transfers. After all there can’t be too many Guptas going through Gorakhpur, Hubli, Bilaspur and Bikaner in that sequence. Or, some similar transfer-travel by the person could trigger the Sherlock Holmes in me. 

Unfortunately, Gupta says, “ Where will I go, Sir? I am in Lucknow only.” The adjective “only” specifies a non-transferable Gupta. Now, I know at least half-a-dozen Guptas in Lucknow. Sherlock Holmes gets no clues.

Finally we hang up after enquiring about the whereabouts, family and children and where we plan to settle down after retirement. Guess where Gupta will settle down. Lucknow only. Gupta tells me that he has built a house in Gomtinagar, “Next to Sharma’s house, Sir. You know Sharma’s house, don’t you?”

I have now been invited by Gupta to visit him. At least I know the city now. I can tell the rickshaw wallah in Lucknow to take me to Gupta Ji, who lives next to Sharma Ji. Do you think I will reach him?

                       —-ooo—-

बड़े बाबू और प्रोसीजर

मैं ही हूँ प्रोसीजर बाबू
नहीं किसी के आया क़ाबू
जनता हो या हो सरकार
न्यायपालिका या अख़बार
चाहे जितना ज़ोर लगा लें
क़लम चला लें या तलवार
मेरे आगे सब लाचार

बड़े सचिव ने फ़ाईल चलाई
उत्तम थे उनके सुविचार
लगने हैं उद्योग, कि खोलें
देश में नूतन कारोबार
नौकरियॉं फिर ख़ूब बढ़ेंगी
देश में ख़ुशहाली फैलेगी
रेलगाड़ी, बस और जहाज़
उपग्रह, रॉकेट, खेत, अनाज

पर मैंने जब नोटिंग डाली
ऑब्जेक्शन की स्याही काली
फ़ाईल भेज दें वित्त विभाग
उनकी फिर अनुमति के बाद
पर्यावरण विभाग से पूछें
कहीं नहीं हो कोई विवाद
फिर क़ानून विभाग का ठप्पा
सचिवालय का चप्पा-चप्पा
जब तक ना छानें, सरकार!
मेरी राय यही है, सर जी!
आगे बढ़ने में है रार

वैसे मैं हूँ अदना बाबू
लेकिन सिस्टम है बेक़ाबू
आप बड़े साहब हैं मेरे
पर पग-पग चक्कर बहुतेरे
मैं ना चाहूँ आप फँसें, सर!
प्रोसीजर ना भंग करें, सर!
और कैरियर अच्छा होगा
कहीं फँसे तो गच्चा होगा

काम का क्या है? होता होगा
यही देश ने अब तक भोगा
चाहे कोई करे ना कुछ, पर
पहनें सब सच का ही चोगा
सर आपके तीस बरस हैं
मंत्री जी के केवल पॉंच
ऑर्डर सरकारी हो कुछ भी
आप फूँककर पीवें छाछ

मंत्री आते जाते रहते
जनता के भी सपने बनते
आप तो सर ख़ुद बच के चलिये
फ़ाईल-पत्र पर कुछ मत लिखिये
मैंने अब तक के सचिवों को
यही ज्ञान बाँटा श्रीमान्
बेदाग़ सब हुए रिटायर
पेंशन पाया और सम्मान

साहब सुन कर मेरी राय
हुए बड़े भयभीत
सोचे, फिर कुछ गुन कर बोले
अगर यही है रीत
मैं काहे को जान फँसाऊँ
क्यों निष्ठा बेकार दिखाऊँ
आप, बड़े बाबू! हैं मेरे
असली तारणहार
ऐन वक़्त पर मुझे आपने
सही दिखाया द्वार

बड़े बाबू, इन पत्रों को अब
लगा ठिकाने घर चलें
ये सारे प्रस्ताव भी फाड़ें
कूड़ेदान के अंदर डालें
अब क्या करना
क्यूँकर डरना
तनखा को तो है ही आना
बस घर-दफ़्तर आना जाना
काम करें या बैठे ठाले
रूई कान में ठूँस के डालें
मेरा क्या कोई करे बिगाड़
मैं तो हूँ नियमों की आड़
मेरी नौकरी मेरी जान
कुर्सी से मेरी पहचान
जनता जाये चूल्हे भाड़।
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