Dear friends,
With this note, I bring you, fruitsofindia.com
An online store for traditional fruits of India
Let me apologize for the lack of finesse from the first look of it, might appear like a job that could be done better.
Of course, so it will be in due course of time.
The problem here is that we are at the end of the season and we will have to wait for another year before we could do some sample work.
So we start half baked, to your benefit this time.
Here is a why! To fruitsofindia.com
Till some time back and for some lucky people yet, people could select according to their preferences the trees they had their fruits from. They were the favorites and a lot of care went on to handling them.
Nature has been a part of the Indian culture and tradition, Worshiped and a part of our lives and families, especially, the ones bearing quality fruits.
A lot of rural India is still able to do so, for whatever reasons.
And with a little help from the World Wide Web, we could knit this together for our urban friends.
This was the core idea behind the origins of fruitsofindia.com
There is another reason, a more personal one.
It’s an effort to make people at both ends realize their needs, dreams and aspirations.
Like me, there are millions of people who have diversity in their backgrounds and aspirations, their responsibilities and dreams on a course of collision.
Issues of property, ageing parents and the burden of that guilt of not being there for your near and dear ones and society at large.
Many are lost like me in dilemma and how to bridge this gap!
fruitsofIndia.com was born as a vision and that bridge.
A lot of my friends have been through the incubation process over the years. We worked on many models that could be worked and perhaps will sooner or later. But, then there are limited resources and time is not limitless.
But then also, things have to be done to know, if they work.
We had to start somewhere. So we did.
So, we get you fruitsofindia.com, an online store to provide the traditional fruits of this subcontinent.
Mango’s all sorts, litchi’s, jamun, bael, guava’s and the ones that you will suggest.
With time, we would be incorporating your choice of region and up to the opportunity of tracing or booking the tree that’s your favorite.
Well, why would anyone buy fruits online, they are available down the road all over!
Of course, they are, but there are fruits that you would wish you could gift a close and dear one far away.
People having a Haphoos- Alphonso often compare it with the Mango’s available in their regions.
Anyone travelling to a distant place gets a package to deliver, pickles and local seasonal fruits.
Usually, the fruits go bad due to poor post harvest handling, packaging and transportation.
We see an opportunity here. We have tied up with some growers and traders in the most e-commerce affluent area, Bombay, the centre for Alphonso and international movements, professional commitments and good logistics. We store our produce here, pack and ship from here.
But then this is a business of credibility, why would anyone swipe his card on an unknown site!
That’s where you come in, my friend!
This credibility thing is going to take a few seasons for me to be around and bridge that gap.
This year we have lost out, for various reasons. But we are early for the next season.
Thankfully, I have some close friends like you, and your close friends who I can trust and you can trust to lend us a hand.
Do log in, leave your details, and we will try to provide you a free sample of litchi’s this year.
There will be a hundred deficiencies this year, like the quality of packaging, fruits, logistics et al.
Forget the price part and rest what seems to be the follies of the website, you will only get litchi’s this season. “Free of Cost”. This offer goes only to my friends on facebook.
All you have to do is, join our facebook page, and then log your details on to the website.
The dispatches are made automatically to all data put in there.
As the fruits are kept in controlled temperature, which have to be transported in normal temperature, there are bound to be some issues. But do let us know, what went wrong and we will improve on it.
You have to remember one thing. We are still working hard on it, and we need your feedback. We will try not to repeat the pointed deficiencies; we will try to live up to your expectations.
Do join in.
Rajesh
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Villy My Friend
“Rajasthan ki team bana raha hai ya Pakistan ki?” Kishore Rungta uttered with a mouthful of whatever he was having for dinner.
The orator, who had just spelled four Muslim names of the six selected, quickly made corrections and omitted all the four names and continued,.
It was perhaps the winters of 1990, at Rungta’s house. I was there with a friend of mine, to find out if he had got in through his Ranji trials. The trials had happened in the afternoon and these results would have been announced next day morning. If one has to play for India, he had to play Ranji for any of the state teams.
Kishore Rungta was the king of Rajasthan cricket, “tiger” as he was fondly called, was an India selector and cricket had more politics than money then.
Of course, the much known Mr. lalit Modi, by whatever selfish virtue, in connivance with the great chief minister Vasundhra Raje, ousted Mr. Rungta later on to do some good to cricket.
However, villy did not make it. Mr. Rungta had killed villy and likes, his pet boy, Gagan Khoda later went to play a couple of matches for India.
I had not known villy then.
Vilayat, I later met at Xavier’s Bombay. He was a Mayo alumnus, Belonged to Ajmer.
Xavier’s those years used to have a substantial strength of mayoites who roamed around in a sort of gang.
Villy was never a part of it, kept largely to self.
When at hostel, he was in his pads and gloves, waving his bat at least 80% of the day he was awake, shadow practice.
He went on to play various county cricket and continued his efforts to play for India.
He was always well dressed for a hostelite. I remember his shark skin jackets and branded English shoes and shirts.
On later years, villy and me got quite close, we shared a pad at Andheri for around a year and that’s how I got to know villy well. I was working those years and villy was playing for Cricket club of India. He played with almost everyone in the Indian cricket team, and I had the opportunity to go with him to the Brabourne stadium many a times for trivial sporting.
Not that I know much about cricket, but I know villy was better than the most. He was meant to be there.
He never compromised on anything, he was not good with words and with little politeness did manage to speak his mind, be it anyone. “Aap to chutiye ho” he had said that to many including Pravin Amre once.
He hated mediocrity and was pissed off with us for having lesser goals in life.
I met villy after 13 years yesterday, and 12 out of these he told me he had a very tough time carrying his head strong, trying various fields in life to get somewhere, with his skills and attitude, the commercial world was hardly a field for success or even survival.
Things are different now.
Villy, however is doing phenomenally good, with perhaps among the few with an international degree in physical conditioning, he trains the top bollywood biggies.
Nothing could be more suited than this, years of hard work is paying and I am glad I have known him.
Way to go villy.
The orator, who had just spelled four Muslim names of the six selected, quickly made corrections and omitted all the four names and continued,.
It was perhaps the winters of 1990, at Rungta’s house. I was there with a friend of mine, to find out if he had got in through his Ranji trials. The trials had happened in the afternoon and these results would have been announced next day morning. If one has to play for India, he had to play Ranji for any of the state teams.
Kishore Rungta was the king of Rajasthan cricket, “tiger” as he was fondly called, was an India selector and cricket had more politics than money then.
Of course, the much known Mr. lalit Modi, by whatever selfish virtue, in connivance with the great chief minister Vasundhra Raje, ousted Mr. Rungta later on to do some good to cricket.
However, villy did not make it. Mr. Rungta had killed villy and likes, his pet boy, Gagan Khoda later went to play a couple of matches for India.
I had not known villy then.
Vilayat, I later met at Xavier’s Bombay. He was a Mayo alumnus, Belonged to Ajmer.
Xavier’s those years used to have a substantial strength of mayoites who roamed around in a sort of gang.
Villy was never a part of it, kept largely to self.
When at hostel, he was in his pads and gloves, waving his bat at least 80% of the day he was awake, shadow practice.
He went on to play various county cricket and continued his efforts to play for India.
He was always well dressed for a hostelite. I remember his shark skin jackets and branded English shoes and shirts.
On later years, villy and me got quite close, we shared a pad at Andheri for around a year and that’s how I got to know villy well. I was working those years and villy was playing for Cricket club of India. He played with almost everyone in the Indian cricket team, and I had the opportunity to go with him to the Brabourne stadium many a times for trivial sporting.
Not that I know much about cricket, but I know villy was better than the most. He was meant to be there.
He never compromised on anything, he was not good with words and with little politeness did manage to speak his mind, be it anyone. “Aap to chutiye ho” he had said that to many including Pravin Amre once.
He hated mediocrity and was pissed off with us for having lesser goals in life.
I met villy after 13 years yesterday, and 12 out of these he told me he had a very tough time carrying his head strong, trying various fields in life to get somewhere, with his skills and attitude, the commercial world was hardly a field for success or even survival.
Things are different now.
Villy, however is doing phenomenally good, with perhaps among the few with an international degree in physical conditioning, he trains the top bollywood biggies.
Nothing could be more suited than this, years of hard work is paying and I am glad I have known him.
Way to go villy.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Happy Fathers Day Papa!
“Should I tell you something?” mom sounded worried over the phone. “Well you called, so might as well tell me, anything serious?”
It was an odd time for my mother to call. It was half past two, on a summer afternoon when everyone at the village usually goes on a slumber, considering I was on my way to Delhi and she was aware of it.
“Papa is firing from the roof top and has injured some people”
There were a million questions in my head, but as anything that I might say or do will affect anything and everything. All I asked her to do was to relax and that I am on my way and everything would be alright.
I tried to speak to my father, who though trying to sound confident and in control, had an air of nervousness around.
I knew I had to be in control.
Rest is history, I found the story.
Papa loves his afternoon siesta, last few years, the tractors passing through next to his house used to blare music from loudspeakers. The road partially belongs to him, and he had been warning those tractor owners for some time now. Bringing this issue over many platforms.
That day, he decided to block the road, and new age kids who hardly care for any understanding of elder’s respect, worded some unusual words. Papa, being not used to this kind of treatment. Picked up one of his three guns. Used the most non lethal bullets, and injured five people.
Being injured by a bullet is like being bitten by a snake. Its more psychological than real.
But then I had no way to know, how serious the injuries were! How would the villagers, police and the aggrieved react?
I spoke to the SP, who was quite surprised by my initiative. I tried to explain papa why he needs to take the legal course now, which he had no choice but to agree.
He was brought to police custody and next day sent to the prison.
We tried our best to take the medical route to avoid prison, but he had to spend one night within the red walled premises.
Things changed for all of us that one night.
Papa lost his dignity. Right to private defense is just a law; prison cannot be a barometer for the civilized.
Next day when papa was being taken to the hospital, he had an epileptic seizure, three in a row.
He lost his memory, his left side was semi paralyzed and he had to be rushed to Patna.
What started as a law and order problem was becoming a nightmare, being grind in a six level stone mill.
Police at all levels, lawyers, courts, prison, doctors, hospitals, relatives and above all money.
I did have a little idea of the life around this Wild West, but this was hands on.
Handling issues, with an emotional mindset, to think rationally when papa was perceived to be breathing his last, was perhaps the most difficult of the task.
I don’t blame my father to have done what he did. In fact, at least this time If not proud, I was glad he did that, considering that injuries were minor.
Someone had to stand to remind people of the deterioration of basic social values and norms. Not that I support shooting erring humans, or supporting everything that my father does to be righteous. He suffered and still is for having crossed that line.
But he will surely be leaving us a better society.
The blaring cacophony has stopped and it is our duty to keep it that way.
There are numerous instances where society has gone wrong, where keeping a blind eye is considered civilized.
We have been made to believe that going to prison is the worst thing that could happen to a civilized people. So, do nothing to the nuances of the ones who break law or make law.
Papa changed all that for me
He has lived in a solitary confinement all his life, where he has minimal interaction with the society. Worked all his life, to attain this peace, a 20 ft wall around his 3 acre campus, self generated power and water, food from his farms, milk from his numerous cows.
He couldn’t let someone spoil his life time’s earnings, by using Marconi’s invention to such bizarre misuse.
He did what he should have done.
He is better now, out on bail, with all the injured denying they every saw my father shooting.
He leaves me a job to do.
I know you would never read this, but this is from me to you, to remind me of what you are and in a way who I am.
Happy Father’s Day Papa!
It was an odd time for my mother to call. It was half past two, on a summer afternoon when everyone at the village usually goes on a slumber, considering I was on my way to Delhi and she was aware of it.
“Papa is firing from the roof top and has injured some people”
There were a million questions in my head, but as anything that I might say or do will affect anything and everything. All I asked her to do was to relax and that I am on my way and everything would be alright.
I tried to speak to my father, who though trying to sound confident and in control, had an air of nervousness around.
I knew I had to be in control.
Rest is history, I found the story.
Papa loves his afternoon siesta, last few years, the tractors passing through next to his house used to blare music from loudspeakers. The road partially belongs to him, and he had been warning those tractor owners for some time now. Bringing this issue over many platforms.
That day, he decided to block the road, and new age kids who hardly care for any understanding of elder’s respect, worded some unusual words. Papa, being not used to this kind of treatment. Picked up one of his three guns. Used the most non lethal bullets, and injured five people.
Being injured by a bullet is like being bitten by a snake. Its more psychological than real.
But then I had no way to know, how serious the injuries were! How would the villagers, police and the aggrieved react?
I spoke to the SP, who was quite surprised by my initiative. I tried to explain papa why he needs to take the legal course now, which he had no choice but to agree.
He was brought to police custody and next day sent to the prison.
We tried our best to take the medical route to avoid prison, but he had to spend one night within the red walled premises.
Things changed for all of us that one night.
Papa lost his dignity. Right to private defense is just a law; prison cannot be a barometer for the civilized.
Next day when papa was being taken to the hospital, he had an epileptic seizure, three in a row.
He lost his memory, his left side was semi paralyzed and he had to be rushed to Patna.
What started as a law and order problem was becoming a nightmare, being grind in a six level stone mill.
Police at all levels, lawyers, courts, prison, doctors, hospitals, relatives and above all money.
I did have a little idea of the life around this Wild West, but this was hands on.
Handling issues, with an emotional mindset, to think rationally when papa was perceived to be breathing his last, was perhaps the most difficult of the task.
I don’t blame my father to have done what he did. In fact, at least this time If not proud, I was glad he did that, considering that injuries were minor.
Someone had to stand to remind people of the deterioration of basic social values and norms. Not that I support shooting erring humans, or supporting everything that my father does to be righteous. He suffered and still is for having crossed that line.
But he will surely be leaving us a better society.
The blaring cacophony has stopped and it is our duty to keep it that way.
There are numerous instances where society has gone wrong, where keeping a blind eye is considered civilized.
We have been made to believe that going to prison is the worst thing that could happen to a civilized people. So, do nothing to the nuances of the ones who break law or make law.
Papa changed all that for me
He has lived in a solitary confinement all his life, where he has minimal interaction with the society. Worked all his life, to attain this peace, a 20 ft wall around his 3 acre campus, self generated power and water, food from his farms, milk from his numerous cows.
He couldn’t let someone spoil his life time’s earnings, by using Marconi’s invention to such bizarre misuse.
He did what he should have done.
He is better now, out on bail, with all the injured denying they every saw my father shooting.
He leaves me a job to do.
I know you would never read this, but this is from me to you, to remind me of what you are and in a way who I am.
Happy Father’s Day Papa!
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