Global Warming – The New Yorker
Dear Ma’am / Sir,
Greetings from Karlstad Sweden
A scantily few probably get to read your wonderful paper rag; I am ashirwaded* to read it as an attachment.
With Europe going through an unimaginable heatwave with two jet streams having locked in the hot hot air or should I say 🐉 dragon’s fiery breath; it is time to dictate a few simple lines about this GW or Dharti-Garmi** not with technically obscene jargon only those fat assed decision making people sitting on their asses having breakfasted with sausage beans croissants dollops of butter and thick cut marmalade at the Breakfast Restaurant of The Waldorf, The Ritz or The Imperial Hotel, feign to understand and then put the hammer at another jostle meeting at another exotic locale flying first class.
Neither am I implying the Greenies coming out of the woodwork after Woodstock, Isle of Wight, Sundance, Stonehenge barefoot in their Khadi wearalls on the other end of the prism are doing an extreme job trying to sing to the trees, the grass and pray to the rain gods so rivers will again gush with passion and ice reappears on the glaciers and Mount Everest. There object is fierce and passionate.
.. all I am saying is the heatwaves have one one root cause.. the overpopulation that continues…
Factories would spill the soot only from Monday to Friday 0900 to 1700 if there were less of us hungry humans wanting to eat drink drive crawl and marry their mobiles which we all have done..
I mean how can we possibly listen to another human being as he lectures on the good the bad and the ugly as we silently secretly shamefully remove the bulge of the mobile from our pockets and start communicating with someone outside the room, many a million miles away ending with 😘❤️😀🙏🥵🌹👍? We have no real friends any more; the large global corporates are our superficial friends, they are our Mums & Dads who don’t look after your money but find ways and means to scalp you and drain you completely..
Sorry Chapess and Chaps making an example of getting on a rowing boat from Land’s End to New York or getting on a train to kill the plane is a sidewinder poor example. Walking is much better, healthier like on the Camino to Santiago de Compostela..
Being a Sea Captain and hauling my cargoes across the oceans with utmost care and still being penalised saving my ship and lives after a hammering hurricane because “Captain we wish to see the oil record to calculate if you cheated with the quantities of oil… and sorry we cannot contact the owners because they are sitting on their fat assess having breakfast“ I realised too soon…there are those who belch burp and fart and there are us .. scapegoats.
Someone has to take the fall for GW…
(the other day, some wierdo asked me as to why I was wearing white pants whilst everyone else was in shorts and shitty rubber slippers ….)
Did the Lone Ranger riding on Silver wear shorts in the hot deserts of Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona and Utah..?
*ashirwaded : Blessed
*Garam Dharti : Global Warming
Kindest Regards and Best Wishes,
Category Archives: Articles
Farewell speech: School Vice-Captain 2021 Udit Jain
Farewell Speech – Udit Jain:
I still remember joining this institution in Class 4, where my matron helped me settle
and adapt to the school. Then came a time when I was crying not wanting to come back to school but here I am standing and delivering this speech and not wanting to go.
This is what Bishop Cotton is and the essence of being a Cottonian is.Since my BCS journey comes to an end, I would like to thank my teachers (academic as well as sports faculty), batch mates, matrons, wardens, my seniors as well as my juniors and each and everyone who has been a part of this exciting and memorable journey.I laughed, I cried, I learned and laughed again. I have had good days, bad days, highs and lows, and what not that this journey has shown me. I really thank each and everyone who supported and guided me all the way long. I would like to thank my teachers, PTI’s, matrons and wardens for motivating me and moulding me into a wholesome human being.We thought controlling our laughter in a class full of silence was the most difficult thing to do, but little did we realize that controlling our tears on the last day of school would be a million times harder.
There is a universal truth we all have to face, whether we or like it, everything
eventually ends. As much as I’ve looked forward to this day, I’ve always disliked
If an important, exciting and memorable chapter of my life is coming to an end but there is a whole new chapter of life awaiting for me and my batchmates, for which I wish each and everyone all the best.
Well, I would like to express it through a short poem:
We entered crying,
We are leaving crying,
Memories are such traitors,
They always leave us sighing,
With tearful eyes we settled our ties,
O God, we don’t want to
But it’s time to say goodbyes,
Now as our school life comes to rest,
We try and stifle the pain in our chest,
Now, finally when it’s time to leave,
This place bids us all the best.
In the end, I wish all Cottonians good luck for their BCS journey ahead and my advice to all Cottonians is that they should respect their seniors and love their juniors. Also, I
hope that the Traditions of 163 year old BCS remain intact as they were in the recent past.
The True Essence Of Nature Conservation by Bittu Sahgal [BCS class of 1963]
Let’s get BCS to take the lead to start a Nature-focused, India-wide, public Schools Initiative.
Sanctuary Nature Foundation could do this at no cost to the school, or to the kids.
We already run Kids for Tigers a one-million-strong network that looks upon tigers, elephants, leopards and what have you as metaphors for all of nature.
Essentially, we wish not just to leave a better world for our kids, but better kids for the planet too.
– Bittu Sahgal
The New Normal at Christmas and Beyond…December 24th 2021
Blue skies over Simla
It’s soon a full moon
Radiating the second flat
As I sit on the benches and look at Tara Devi
The last flickering lights of the train disappear
one last turn a fast bend and into the tunnel and now gone..
to the other side..
life then was simple simon
Less people on the planet
Simla was a small town and
My BCS far away from the madding crowd…
Boarding schools were situated on spurs I said looking down I see White Temple, Buffalo Pond, the Hutty; I turned my neck to the left and perched the top of a desolate mountain Pari Mahal..strains of sitar..
Life was simple, the air was simple, the breeze clear and whistling, sunsets too perfect magenta orange and fiery red.
Some voice across from the tennis courts reminds me.. it’s half a century ago .. changes come through decades; the cart road now dust dust and dust; a million cars parked, little rust buckets and half built ugly structures called homes hang precariously on edges;suicidal homes… humanity never stops fornicating; there will be wars; not for territorial expansion but water wars…
I am told a solitary flying squirrel lives on the roof of The Lodge..stuck in a time zone…
2021 is slowly turning the bend
so I need to reminisce on days gone by you know …
I managed and trudged and got my arse into the land of our divine .. my first AZ shot gave me the boost of confidence as they say …
I shot up to School
slept under electric blankets
and dreamt of monkeys riding on zebras sky high in the sky..
I preached and talked and mentored the young ones hearing that old song much popular by Cliff Richard..
I enjoyed Salmon in the hills and
Queso by Francois and his petite esposa
and looked at the washed stars on a perfect night amongst the deodars ..
S&R stayed on course..
Charts laid in ink
through trough and thin
cement wood stones and paint
never too late
It’s barely 162 years
yet energies with synergies
and finally reality..
Whilst I fed apples to wild hare
and heard the bells of cows
I picked up my walk and fed my soul at St. James
at El Monasterio Santiago de Campostela..
I guess I was the only fella
at Bar Escudo del Carmen
in Calle 13
looking at past storms and the Armada
I felt safe in the crowds at Granada with Hermano Antoniocito..
Yet stubbornness prevailed and walking through Benrath
later in Stockholm leaving Karlstad
I came back through the Gates
A perfect morning..
I shed my garb
and perched on that stone…
…that’s where I still am
As Christmas has arrived
Strange times Strange vibes
The chilled wind
I still sit on that stonez
Wishing you all
and hoping the world will be
a better place a week from
today .. Happy New Year…
Kindest Regards and Best Wishes,
Vivek / Bonnie Bhasin
Sitting elf-like on boundary stone in the cold dark winter of Simla.
In SWEDEN yet at the edge of BCS.
Camino Ingles – The English way to the Monastery of Santiago de Compostela … and The Eagle
…Will this ever end
will this never end, the steep climb on hard asphalt between Neda and Pontedeume.. ?
An inner voice plays with my painfully aching shoulders, screams at my knees and pounding feet.. ” Stop! Release your Mochila(your backpack).. It will only get worse as you reach the top of this one, a sharp descent and another steeper climb awaits you..throw caution to the wind and fling that pack into the ravine; then your walking sticks too, your heavy sweat filled jacket,
remove your dripping shirt, your vest all..everything. And now walk slowly to the edge of the forest..
When you arrive you will see a patch of soft green grass still wet with last night’s dew.. Yes it will be cool and fresh! Lay your body down on your back and look up at the swaying branches, the puffed cloud
s sailing across the azure blue sky…the whistling wind will then caress you…it will..inhale, exhale, smile contentedly.. no pain now .. Are you not free… ?”
I stop in thought, trying to fathom what my voice just told me….
Not with anger, not with frustration, not with tiredness nor with the pain and aches…I reach deep down and pull out that “inner voice”.. Holding it in my hand it smiles at me as I look at it with great curiosity…
. ” Yes Yes, it’s the right thing to do…just do it “ the ” inner voice” laughing.
Grasping the “voice’ I walk to the edge of the forest and approach a handsome tree.. I press the ” Voice” against the trunk of the tree carefully wrapping my long scarf around it so it cannot hurt itself not drop…
….nor try to conquer me…
I bid “Adios” to my inner voice and struggle away not looking back.. far up the hill until the last shrilling, protesting and desperate tones of my ” inner voice” …. “why are you not listening ? Heeding to me imploring you……?”……fade away .. my body heavier, exhausted.. yet I…never stop.
Looking up to the sky, I see an eagle in flight… He acknowledges my presence, my determination and swoops in towards me; with terrific speed flies over me, I can feel his jet stream….then he shoots up into the sky and is a speck again..
.. The peregrino(pilgrim) I am.. I just keep walking towards the Monastery of Santiago de Compostela.
I am now that Eagle gliding through the skies and looking at all my Camino Closest as you continue your Camino de su vida( the walk of life ..)
Ultreia et Suseia..
Go Further.. Go Higher
Capitan Vivek ( Bonnie) BHASIN