The Impulsive Traveller

Glorious Past Rukshana Nanji stumbled upon a female human skeleton as old as three thousand five hundred years, while digging a site in Navadatoli in Madhya Pradesh. Back in the early nineties this was a stunning discovery when historians believed the Harappen Culture to be existent around the Indus. A masters degree in Archeology and Ancient History from Deccan College Pune, Rukshana is one of the few women in the country to have worked in new and ancient sites like Harappan port city, Padri, Samrapur, Daulatabad, Hampi ,Sanjan ………….. . A bizarre turn of events strikes the life of the young Archeologist. Mysteriously her discovery containing data and log books get stolen from her study in Pune. The chapter of the buried Chalcolithic woman buried deep in the heart of a big civilization clasping an herbivore molar tooth in her palms remains unsolved. The whole episode was heart ranching for Rukshana so much so that she left archeology to look after her family business. “ I did not...

"Because we all spring From different trees Doesn’t mean We are not created equally I find greatness in the tree That grows against all odds It blossoms in darkness And gives birth to promising pods" These striking lines like the scenic locale of the SOS village, Shillong is the evocative poem written intrepidly by Gustav, a volunteer from Sweden on the red notice board at the entrance of the counselor’s office. This sums up the lives of the 124 children blossoming here into talented young individuals; away from the nearness of their innate homes and parents. The SOS villages were set up during the World War II in 1949 to provide homes to thousands of children rendered homeless all over the world by Dr. Hermann Geimner, a Swiss philanthropist. They have 34 such villages in India too. Headquartered in Vienna, Save Our Souls villages possess an ambience and the environment of the disciplined, systematic coordination of its headquarters. These villages are lesser known for their...

Like the cool breeze she comes to lend a hand every morning, she bathes in moderate human values yet she is the supporter of our needs, bathed in wisdom and magnanimity, she is my maid. She smiles and advises me to pull up a thin upper lip when my haughty neighbour passes by me without so much as a cordial look...she says..." what has come to the world didi ..? neighbours here fail to recognise each other"? I too wonder at her perseverance and worldly wisdom. Inspirational blood pumped in my viens , my heart throbbed like the dead bat's wings still in darkness, I set about to think like she did, with care and wartmth , with wisdom and the feeling of giving...and at awe when she recited the saraswati vandana with clarity and frequency that puts my own skill to shame and yet her name is Mehmuda ....There are goose bumps on my arms when i heared her recite the Gayatri mantra yet her name is mehmuda and her mother's name is Nafisa . Her mother does not allow her t...