Dr. Naresh Dang

  • 477

The Trojan war( Twelfth Century BC)

A war fought for one beautiful face.

Prettiest of all , the Helen of Troy.

Men’s mouth would water at the thought 

of hers.

Paris son of king Priam of Troy had

his heart on the beautiful lady.

But she was already married to 

King Menelaus of Sparta.

Paris eloped with her from 

Menelaus’s palace in a disguise.

And with Aphrodite’s blessings and magical powers Helen was now his.

Achaeans from Ancient Greece attacked

the kingdom of Troy.

Their honour had been attacked by this

not so brave a warrior called Paris.

The Greeks expedition to retrieve Helen 

from Paris of Troy started.

Many warriors and thousand ships 

were there on the shores of Troy.

They were ready to burn the city of Troy 

to ashes.

The war ensued and lasted for ten long years.

A decade of siege and then the final battle.

Best of the warriors were killed on both the sides.

The Invincible Achilles, the mighty and fearless Hector, the bow and arrow specialist Paris and many more 

were dead.

Trojan was destroyed and looted.

Widows and children who survived were taken as slaves.

An era of men had died in all those years.

Jealousy, greed and false honour had defeated Mankind.

Logic had lost to madness.


Deep and dark was the jungle

I was meandering through.

Tall pines stood majestically .

There was a distinct, sweet fragrance of pines all over .

Small mountain stream was running

down naughtily on its own. Jumping up and down, curving at the bends, she moved on singing her own song.She seemed lost in her dreams.Was she dying to meet her destiny the “River?”

Small rivulets were rushing into the stream

As if a child into the arms of her mother.

Pine cones and pine leaves were the carpet I was walking on.

An occasional prick here and there by the plants.As If to welcome me to the jungle.

I moved on climbing up the hill

Mushrooms exotic black and lovely white were growing on the slopes.

The chilgozas in the feet of pines were seen.

Wild fruits and wild flowers were kissing my body as I climbed.

Rarest of the birds were taking their flight.
A beautiful waterfall noorichhamb threw me into an awe .
Empress Noorjahan used to bathe here and so did I .
I moved on climbing up,crossing on
Bridges made of just one log of wood.
Breathing was now becoming rapid
And what I saw next froze me.
She stood calm and quite,so beautiful and untouched .Virgin,
Pristine beauty.
She was Girjan. .Lush green bowl of grass,A Valley silent like a statue,
Surrounded by snow clad mountains
Nandan sar .You could roll miles down the bowl of grass and land on to the banks of the mountain stream which was whistling through the centre of the green pastures.
Bridges of ice that never melt were like a crown on the stream .
Thatched houses few and far with beds of straw were in total harmony with nature.
Slippers were made of grass.

Clothes were of cotton and wool .The only music was of the mountain teel.
Fresh air and that beauty I still behold in my heart years after I had been there.
Yes that's the story of a Virgin beauty called Girjan . A valley in Kashmir , untouched by the maddening machines.

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There are no full stops before the final full stop.

Through the mist and clouds I walk.

Haze doesn’t seem to abate .

The dust just doesn’t settle.

But I walk it up the hill.

I huff.

 I puff.

 I don’t give up.

Giving up is not an option.

I go on.

 I do wait for that green hill top.

I wait for those lovely pastures

 of grass surrounded 

by tall Himalayan pines.

Someday I shall sit and relax 

in her lap.

In the valleys of love by the side 

of the flowing stream shall I dwell.

Hope is what I live on.

I steel moments of happiness 

on the way.

I take no rest.

I pause.

I walk a marathon.

I pause.

I start again.

There are no full stops before the 

final full stop.

Life has to go on.

Logic is an umbrella, as vast as the blue sky.

It let’s you mushroom and 

let’s others mushroom too.

It knows no bonds and 

no chains.

It lets you think your way

and leaves space for others too.

It let’s you be you and 

me be me.

It’s goal is happiness for 

ye and me.

It’s not cold calculated logic that 

I am talking of.

My logic is sensitive and has 

a soul too.

It doesn’t mean to demean any one.

It just intends to wash and brush 

the old and rusted rituals.

And to connect primitive to present 

and present to future.

Logic never gets outdated.

I will come again 

I am going

I am going

I will come again

My flight with you

has just begun.

We shall explore the world

together .

I will see it from your eyes.

And you see it from mine.

You share your thoughts.

I will share mine.

You say your fears to me.

And I will say mine .

I am going.

I am going.

But it is not my last time.

I will come again.

And again.

Seas and oceans,

Rivers and Mountains shall

not put us apart.

Race and colour,

caste and creed have no 


If you are there waiting for me,

then I shall cross all the seas..

No hurdle shall stop me.

I will rise from the deepest 

of the oceans.

To be there by your side

I shall cross Alps and Rockies.

Himalayas and Andes cannot 

stop me either.

I know you are thousands and thousands 

of miles away.

But nothing can and nothing will be 

able to stop my quest.

I am marching towards your nest.

Make little space for me oh! My dear.

Our love for each other shall

make us one to eternity.

I will detour from the jaws of death 

to be there by your side.

Dad, how I wish you had not gone.

Dad, how I wish you had stayed on.I had a fear last year. My gut feeling said something was not right.Will you be there with us next year? A thought would come to my mind again and again. And I would dismiss it as a pessimist imagination.

It was your birthday on ninth June 2016.

I in my heart had sensed that something was wrong.We celebrated your birthday to the very best. There was music , dance and wine on your eighty ninth birthday. I was very happy for you.

You had been a great father. In my distress, you were always there for me. Worst of your pains would not deter you from standing by me. You taught me to be kind, passionate and never to break the law. You stood by me and by your all children like a rock of Gibraltar.

The swelling in your feet that I noticed on your birthday was now increasing . I didn't like a bit of it.

Your face was telling a story that all was not well.Blood tests were all normal.I thought I could be wrong. May be I was over reading.And then you threw a bomb.Repeat testing a few days later was much worse.

You had my worst fears come true.

You were diagnosed to have a disease that I had always feared.

You decided to clean bowl me out.

A high grade acute myeloid leukaemia was the diagnosis. The doctor in me knew that this was my toughest battle. Many times I had fought with disease on your behalf and won. But this time I could sense a defeat for both of us. I never told you the diagnosis.

You possibly too had a hunch that all was not right.

The time had come.Treatment never worked.

Haemoglobin was dropping. Fever and chest infection had set in. You were getting breathless and were dependent on oxygen.

The final bells were ringing. Dilemma whether to put you on a ventilator or not came face to face. We decided against ventilatory support. I didn’t want your exit to be painful. 

You hugged me and my brother. You were breathing your last breaths. You sang a lullaby that you always sang for me when I was a 

child . Your breathing became more shallow.

You were passing out.And even in those  last moments you were muttering my Mom’s account details. Something you wanted to say.You knew you were going.

I stood a silent spectator and you were gone.

Like mist you evaporated. The doctor in me had been defeated. I stood helpless.

I miss you today and I will miss you always.

Dad, I wish you could have stayed on.

How I wish, you had not gone.  On 29th July 2016, you left us all, forty days after your birthday celebrations. But I still feel you are somewhere around. You are not gone.

Country side that’s Europe 

Country side with miles and miles of green.
Grass lands,green pastures and lovely fields.
Wild grass and wild fruits and the country lass playing in the fields.
Pines and pines some tall and some not so tall.
I wonder if these pines would ever know,
that they have tall and handsome cousins far away in Himalayan greens.
The horses tough and agile sauntering in the fields.
Wind mills stand elegantly using wind for energy.
Lakes and ponds and marshy land lie calmly in the Suns sheen.
The vineyards with fresh aroma of local wine,
Intoxicates you and blends you with the nature green.
Colourful houses with a painter's dream.
The Sun glorifying the greenery down below,
As if a father is smiling on his little child's being.
Both in sync.

The man and nature 

stand in harmony.

The nature is playing a symphony.
I think Europe's country side is a fine blend of man's needs and the nature green.

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Added a post 

I have been playing a test match with her.

And she is destiny.

It’s her pitch and her 


She decides the rules.

Play doesn’t stop in

bad light.

It just goes on.

It doesn’t let you wear 

pads and gloves.

Helmet is only a dream.

The pitch too is rough

and shoddy with an uneven 


But I too have batted with 


She threw bouncers.

And I went for the hook.

I connected some.

I missed some.

Some I took on the body.

I am not a Bradman.

But I will play like a tiger.

I will go for my shorts.

Hit some sixes and some fours.

Destiny always has the last laugh.

But middle overs could still be ours.

In a concentration camp in Berlin

He was a scientist ,a professor in Poland.
He had done a great crime.
To a Jews house was he born.
1939,he landed in a concentration camp.
Brought straight from the university.
Now he was not professor pinto.
He was number 99.
His home was now a dark bunker bed .
6feet by 3 feet bed in a dark cell.
With one bed above and one bed below shared by other intelligentsia .
And there were hundreds of them.
Their crime was they were intelligentsia .
Dare they question nazism.
No sky above and no earth below,
No air to breathe .It was their new home.
Work like a slave.Donot look left or right.
If you do ,you will be shot dead.
Work and work for half a loaf of bread.
If you don't work you will be shot dead.
One watch tower and one machine gun in one camp ready to bring down any one.
Water was a luxury given in ration.
Slaves of bread and water had one destination .Extermination.
If you were disabled and of no use
Gas chamber was there to welcome you.
If the Nazi Guard didn't like your face,
He could shoot you dead.
If you tried to escape,death was the only reward.
Millions of them massacred.
Synagogues were on fire.
The flames were raging in Europe .
It was the night of broken crystals and burning synagogues.
The creator of man hung his head in shame.
He stood a silent spectator .
It was an era of darkness,a night too long.

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The Berlin cries 

Berlin stands testimony to a man's madness .
The gas chambers,the massacre of six million Jews.
The war, the bombings,the air raids.
Submerged in it was the crying of a child,wailing of a widow,sobbing of a mother.
The old father dragging the coffin of his only son.
An infant,a toddler left with no one.
Berlin has seen it all.

Berlin stands testimony to a man's madness .
The rivers spree and Havel have seen many a tear swell them up.
The lakes have bathed in blood.
The trees and the jungle have witnessed many a blood shed.
Berlin stands testimony to what not.
Remind me not of the third reich.
No concentration camps and no mad torture please.
Break the remnants of that wall.

It reminds me of a gory tale.
No Cold War and no more battles please.
I know Berlin cries because it has seen it all.

It is a witness to history.
It has seen a man's madness .
It has seen its destruction and glory.
And I wish,I could erase a few pages in the book of history.

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How I wish Hitler was never born

The war did what not?

Men dead and gone,
Thousands Disabled.
Arms,legs and eyes gone.
Scars on the body and holes in the soul.
Allied forces had won the war.
Millions dead on both sides.
The women raped by the heroes of war.
A generation born with fathers unknown.
All for a sour dream of one man.
Martyrs of a lost war,
the unsung heroes.
Villains for some,
victims and heroes for some.
Soldiers of a lost war had no medals to hang on.
War did what not.
A generation blinded by one man.
The world shivers at the dreams of just one man.
Had he won,massacred would have been millions more.
It does good to no one.
Say no to guns and no to war.
For war does what not.
I wish Likes of Hitler were not born.

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Let’s not delay.

Do it today.

More you delay,

Dearer you pay.

If you have to write,

start today.

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Dr. Naresh Dang
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