Author: JPS Nagi

JPS Nagi

Using Archival Covers to save Paperbacks

Sometimes you have a paperback!
Yes, even I have many paperbacks. Especially the ones with some memories attached to them. At least I want to keep them around for a while …

But paperbacks are designed to read and throw or pass on. The challenge is that the corners get frayed, the spines break or crease and they rip easily. You can extend the life of Mass Market Paperbacks books by using archival quality self-adhesive covers. These also help cover up the creases that can develop on the spine with reading. Depending upon your choice you can choose matt or glossy finish.

Here is how I preserve my paperbacks, I hope you will find them useful.

Please use the links below to help the channel.

Book Cover Clear Self Adhesive Bookcover 18″ X 1.5 Yard (54″)
Bone folder featured in the video is “8 Inch Real Bone Folder VENCINK”
X-Acto Basic Knife Set

Books Featured:
Lightning Thief (Percy Jackson Movie Tie In Edition)
His Dark Materials: The Golden Compass / The Subtle Knife / The Amber Spyglass
The paperback single volume is no longer available for this.

JPS Nagi
June 6, 2021

Shelving Collector’s Hardcover Books

As a collector of fine books, I love to put them on display on my bookshelves. Stacking a nice leatherbound hardcover book has its own challenges. The out hardcover extends few millimeters beyond the printed paged and when stored vertically, the weight of a nicely printed book will sag, including pulling on the spine that makes me cringe. That can also offset the boxy shape of your book.

There is always an issue of weight that makes the book sag, and stress the spine. One way is to shelve them horizontally, but that has an issue of pulling the books out. 15 years back, I found a way to solve this problem, so the books retain their shape. I made a video that shows the method we use. If you like to store them vertically, here is a way to take care of your books.

Also, check the links below for the supplies and books featured in the video. Your purchases help this channel. I hope you find it useful.

Featured Books

Supplies

Music used in the video – Sunday Groove by Michael Korbin.

JPS Nagi
May 21, 2021

Dust Jacket Covers for Book Collectors

Book collecting is another hobby of mine. Over the years, I have seemed books that are printed on acid-free paper, with archival quality inks. This helps the paper to retain its color (not turn yellow) and the ink from not fading.

The other challenge is that the hardcovers books often come with dust jacket covers. Often while shelving these dust jacket covers get damaged, or frayed as you pull the books in and out of the shelves. The edges where the dust jacket turns are most susceptible to the kinks that can damage the look of the book. If exposed to a library with windows, the spines can show signs of fading (that also means that these are printed with non-archival quality inks).

As a collector of books, I like to protect the dust jackets of my hardcover books. When someone visits our home, they always comment that it must be a lot of work to do so. So I made a quick tutorial on how I take care of these books using mylar covers. To avoid spine fading, you can also check to see if there are any UV protective covers (but that is a whole another cost point you have to consider).

Take a look at the tutorial video below.

Also, check the links below for the supplies and books featured in the video. Your purchases helps this channel. I hope you find it useful.

Brodart Just-a-Fold III Archival Book Jacket Covers
Bone folder featured in the video is “8 Inch Real Bone Folder VENCINK”
Featured Books: The Hobbit & The Lord Of The Rings Boxed Set
Music by Michael Kobrin on Pixabay

JPS Nagi
May 16, 2021

Chasing Stars

A few years ago, my family and I were visiting our parents in India. My increasing birthdays have made me appreciate them more and more. I feel there is so much I can still learn from him.

Sitting down with them, I was telling them about my friends I was in touch with, and asking them about ones I was not (and they were). The conversation went on to what everyone is doing and I made a comment “I wonder if I will ever be successful like him or her”.

My father smiled, and in his wisdom-drenched voice, asked me, “How do you define success?” I was quick to reply and pointed to him how successful they were in their career. He smiled and asked, “And?”. I immediately knew the class is in session with Mr. retired Professor. Here is a bit of paraphrasing of what he taught me that day.

He started with what his father, whom he called “Bhaiya ji” fondly, used to say.
He said that “Bhaiya ji” would say that the greatest gift a person gets is being able to wake up in the morning because that is another day they are alive. So have gratitude for that. There are some who never wake up. 

Even more blessed are those who have good health. If you are healthy, can get up, walk around, be thankful. There are many who cannot do that. 

If you have two hands, be even more grateful, for you can earn your living with those two hands. There are some who will love to be in your position. 

Blessed are those who can earn for themselves and even more blessed are the ones who can ear for their families and provide for them.

And the most blessed are the ones who wake up, are healthy, can earn living for their loved ones and most of all can help others. Only a few can do that – not because they are not capable, but they do not have the courage to do so.

I was patiently listening to him. Then he asked the question, “What is this success you talk about? Money? Fame? Position? Power?”
He paused. “For what? Look closer at everyone who you consider successful, you will see that it is not that picture-perfect you make it to be. If they are successful in their career, their personal lives suffer. If they are successful in their personal lives, their career suffer. If they are doing it all, they themselves suffer, personally, health-wise. What good is success in one area when you cannot manage other aspects of your life?”

By this time, I knew it was time to just listen and collect these pearls of wisdom.

“In your life, you will have to manage your relationships, kids, yourself, career, relatives, friends. If you put more energy into one, others will get affected. If you try to do it all, you, yourself will be affected. You have to balance. Sometimes when you do everything, even then, life throws a googly (cricketing term for the uninitiated, it means a curveball). The western world calls it work-life balance. Try to give everyone the time they deserve, and be grateful for what you have and where you are. You want happiness, go help someone, that is the happiness that nothing else will  bring. And don’t stress about folks around you; you are plenty successful. Indians believe in destiny and no one can take that from you”.

“Go be a world for someone than being no one to the whole world.
And never lose yourself chasing the stars, be grateful about seeing them tonight. They will come back for you the next night”.

JPS Nagi
April 17, 2021

A Father’s Day

On August 16, 1992, my father helped me initiate the next phase of my journey in life.

It was my birthday, and we were traveling from Amritsar to Chandigarh with my cousin, Jasjeet, and his dad. I bid farewell to my mother and got in the car. The monsoon season in north India our journey wet throughout. I remember excited to be going somewhere new, a bit afraid to be away from folks I have lived with thus far. A month earlier, my father had helped me decide to go to PEC, Chandigarh instead of Delhi where Delhi College of Engineering had a “drug problem” as he put it.

As we reached my engineering school that would be my home for the next 4 years, our fathers helped us settle to our assigned room – room #238. I heard a lot of commotion and stepped out in the corridor. All the rooms were being filled in, some boys had parents with them, others on their own. I met a skinny guy next door, with his parents. That was Ajju. Further down there were three boys from Bathinda – Pompy, Numi, and Deepu.

Then, I realized, my father wasn’t around. As we locked the door and walked downstairs, I saw my dad standing half-way in a door, of a small room. As I walked closer, I realized it was the hostel warden. I saw my dad was tipping him (a practice fairly common in India, at least back then). He saw me and introduced me to the warden, who said, “Don’t worry, son. You will be fine”. Then he walked to another room down the hall, which was labeled “Phone room”. A short guy was sitting next to the landline (we didn’t have cell phones back then), our phone attendant. He asked him the hours when he is on duty, noted them on a piece of paper, placed it in his pocket, and tipped him too.

A couple of hours later, both my cousin’s dad and my father were ready to leave to travel back home. My dad gave me a hug and told me that he will call me every day when I return to the hostel after my classes. All I said with teary eyes was “OK”.

28 years later, as I am writing this, I have to say, he has kept his promise. My father (and my mother) have called me every day since, wherever I am in the world. I cannot recall a single day that they haven’t tried to reach me. The cell phones (and my family) have made it easier to find me. They still call me.

Now, I am in the same stage in life when my daughter is getting ready to embark on a similar journey of her life. And I hope I can do the same.

Happy Father’s Day, indeed.

JPS Nagi
June 21, 2020

The Mortuary

I was never exposed to Dungeons & Dragons while growing up in India. During my later years, as I came to know about it, I have always been fascinated by the game that plays in the theatre of your mind. My friends at work set up an introductory D&D session for me. Another friend suggested a new campaign “Waterdeep: Dragon Heist” which I am having too much fun playing. My character in the campaign is Neldor, an Elf Druid. The story presented here, “The Mortuary”, is not the beginning but somewhere in the middle of the campaign, where our heroes have brought a Cleric, Loren,  with them who knows how to speak with the recently deceased. This is the version of the story, and how it played in my mind and the dialogs are how I imagined them.

The Mortuary

The torso of the gnome corpse stood upright taking in a deep breath, as Loren Allspark finished her incantation. “You have 5 questions. Make them simple”, she said while turning around to face the group. The group had already determined from the appearance that the gnome was Drakhaal, the spy who was hired to tail Renéer, by his father.

The eeriness of the blank dead eyes of the gnome and charred skin was making everyone uncomfortable. Blue nodded to Tig’rod indicating to go ahead and ask the questions the group had decided. Tig’rod took a step forward while everyone stayed back. Loren was the only one who seemed comfortable. She gave Tig’rod an encouraging smile.

“Hello Drakhaal, my name is Tig’rod. I wanted to know how did you die?”, Tig’rod asked in a shivering voice.

Drakhaal’s blank eyes seemed to look in Tig’rod’s direction, and in a hollow breathy voice, he replies. “I was … coming to deliver … the stone to folks … at the Thunder Ale Tavern. Then I saw an orange glow, there was fire, heat and then I guess … I guess … I died”.

Ersi, Roh’gar, and Neldor were looking at Drakhaal with wide eyes. They knew about the spell. The spell granted the semblance of life and intelligence to a corpse of your choice within the range of the spell, allowing it to answer the questions you pose. The corpse must still have a mouth and can’t be undead. The spell was only effective on the corpses that had died in the last ten days. Until the spell ends, you can ask the corpse up to five questions. The corpse knows only what it knew in life. The answers are usually brief, cryptic, sometimes repetitive. Seeing the spell in action was unsettling for everyone.

Loren nodded at Tig’rod indicating that he should continue.

“Where did you get the stone, Drakhaal?”, Tig’rod asked his next question.

“I … I stole the stone … from the lair …”, he took another breath, “the layer of the beholder … Xanathar … in the sewers”, Drakhaal continued in his breathy voice.

Neldor’s eyes widened to know that the Xanathar, the head of the Xanathatr’s guild is a beholder. He had not even considered that. Beholders found mostly in the Underdark, are large, orb-shaped beings with ten eyestalks and one central eye, each contains powerful magic. They are powerful and intelligent creatures and are among the greatest threats to the world. Neldor’s elf ears started twitching. Roh’gar put his scaly Dragonborn hand on his shoulder. Neldor looks at Roh’gar who tilts his head towards the gnome. Tig’rod was getting ready with his next question, and his hand was slowly moving towards his whiskey flask around his hip. Blue slaps his hand and indicates him to ask the next question they had decided.

“Do you know who killed you, Drakhaal?”, Tig’rod voice was quivering now.

Drakhaal’s eyes never blinked and in his breathy voice, he started talking again. “No, I do not. I … I saw the fire and then … then I died”.

Loren rolled her eyes, as if Tig’rod had wasted one of the questions. With everyone so quiet, she was the only one who seemed to think, this was not uncanny. Tig’rod continued, “Can you tell us if Xanathar or Zantarum were involved in your death?”

“I think … Xanathar must have me tailed … when he realized … realized the stone was stolen. I heard”, Drakhaal took another breath, “I heard … Xanathar blamed … Zantarum for the robbery. But … but … Zantarum came to know … that it was me… so they started tailing me too … black cloaks … three folks in black cloaks … were from Zantarum… I saw their tattoos. And then … and then … I died”.

Loren winked at Tig’rod, glad that this question got some answers. “The last question”, she said to Tig’rod.

“You had two pouches, we found only one. Did the other pouch with the stone in it; where is it?”

“Yes … yes … the stone of Golorr” Drakhaal seemed to be running out of time and started to struggle to answer. “Just before I died … one of the black cloaks … took the pouch … and then … and … then … I … died”. With these words, the air seemed to leave Drakhaal’s body, his eyelids shut, and the animated torso lost any sign of life and slammed against the table.

Everyone was looking at the dead gnome. Loren voice startled everyone, “This spell doesn’t return the creature’s soul to its body, only its animating spirit. The corpse can’t learn new information, doesn’t comprehend anything that has happened since it died, and can’t speculate about future events. So ask the questions accordingly. And yes, remember, the corpse is under no compulsion to offer a truthful answer if you are hostile to it or it recognizes you as an enemy”.

Tig’rod face contorted as if he was about to throw up. He took a flask from his hip and took a big sip of his whiskey. That seemed to calm him a bit. Loren notices everyone still looking at the burnt corpse. “He is dead now. Who do we want to talk to next?”

“I can’t, you do it this time. Blue?”, Tig’rod looked at Blue.

“A beholder? Xanathar is a beholder?”, Neldor was muttering.

“Yes. And let’s not discuss this here. Remember where we are. We need to finish what we came here for”, Roh’gar said in his groveling voice. And a small whiff of smoke escaped his nostrils. Neldor composed himself, nodded and looked at Blue.

“Looks like the stone is with the Zantarum. Two out of the three black-cloaked figured are here dead. The third one must have escaped with the stone”, Blue said, thinking out loud.

“We need to find out where was the stone to be taken by Zantarums”, Roh’gar made a point. “We must talk to the dead Zantarum guys”.

“Would they know if we are from Zantarum”, Ersi asks Loren.

“Well, they will know, but they may or may not tell the truth. Keep the questions simple”, she replied, checking the back of her hand, looking bored.

“Okay Blue, it’s time to disguise yourself in the illusion spell. The black cloak and with the tattoo of Zantarum – the flying snakes”, Roh’gar said. “We need to find out where they would have taken the stone”. 

Blue’s eyes sparkle, and he looks at Loren and nods to her to do her spell. Loren starts her incantation under her breath, while Blue starts his illusion spell. As Loren’s spell ends, the Zantarum corpse gets animated, takes a deep breath and turns its head towards the group. Only the white of the eyes is visible, which makes Tig’rod to take another sip from his flask. This time even Ersi takes a step away from the animated corpse.

“I am from Zantarum. We sent three of you to get the stone for us. We haven’t heard from any of you. Where was the stone to be taken?”, Blue asks while making sure the tattoo of the flying snakes is visible as his illusion to the corpse.

“The stone, eh”, this guy’s voice is screechy, like small stones grinding against the metal sheet. “The stone was supposed to be taken back to Gralhund Villa, right after we get it.”

“Did you hire the Nimblewright automaton to help you obtain the stone?”, Blue asks his second question.

“Nimblewright? No, I do not know about any automaton”, everyone flinched at his voice.

“None of you made it to the Gralhund Villa with the delivery. Not sure how many people are supposed to be at the Villa. Do you know?”

“There should be ten or maybe fifteen people there. We were following orders to take the stone and deliver it there”.

“Did you know the gnome Drakhaal and what was the stone?”

“No, we were just following orders. We were asked to take the artifact and deliver it to the Villa”.

“Who gave you the orders?”, Blue shoots his last question.

“We were following Urstul Floxin, he was with us when we were tailing the gnome”. And with that, the corpse lost the air and his torso slammed on the metal table, making a loud clang! sound.

“Well, that was informative” Blue exclaims.

“Yes, very interesting”, Ersi said and seemed to be glad that the interrogation was quick.

“Yeah, it looks like the stone was …” Tigrod said, while raising the flask towards his mouth. Before he could say anything else, Roh’gar jumped in, “Let us not discuss the matters here. We are here for information. Let’s get it and get out”. This time there was a small spark along with the smoke that escaped his nostrils. Everybody got quiet.

Blue nodded to Loren, who smiled, winked at Blue and started her incantation. The third corpse torso stood up, took a deep breath inside turned it’s head slowly towards the group. The upper right side of his face was burned where the red veins were showing. The mouth and jaw were still intact.

“I am from Zantarum. How did you all die? Did the gnome kill you?”

“No. We cornered the gnome, and then, there was fire and I died”, the Zantarum man had a deep throaty voice.

“I am here to find out the whereabouts of the stone you were supposed to deliver to the Gralhund Villa. Where is it?”, Blue asked continuing his illusion.

“We were with Urstul. He pickpocketed the pouch from the gnome. Then there was a fire and I died.”

Blue pretended to be annoyed, “That’s why I am here, man. Urstul did not show up at the Villa. If he escaped, where would he go, if not the Villa?”

“Urstul and we were supposed to take the stone and go straight to the Villa. We died, but I saw him escape the fire with the pouch. If he is not at the Gralhund Villa, he must have gone to the safehouse twenty-three B”.

Blue looked back at the group, and several heads nodded, edging him to continue.

“Did you know what was in the pouch and what was it for?” Loren raised her four fingers at Blue indicating that this would be the fourth question.

“It was a stone of some sort. It was supposed to make us rich beyond our wildest imagination. That’s all I know”, the corpse was slowing down and his voice was fading. Tig’rod was already looking away from the corpse.

“What did the stone look like?” Blue asked his last question.

“It was dark stone … greyish … the size of my palm. And there were …” the voice started to fade, “blue lines were going across it.”

As the torso of the last corpse fell on the table, Blue ended his illusion. Before anyone could say anything, Roh’gar jumped in “Time to go, everyone”. Tig’rod walked in front of everyone, taking another swig from his flask.

The group walked out of the mortuary, through the corridors of the old constabulary station. As they walked past the reception desk, they thanked the older constable whom Renéer had contacted for access to the corpses.

As the group stepped in the daylight, everyone felt like they have come back to the land of the living. Tig’rod handed Loren the twenty-five gold Dragons for her services and donation to her temple. Loren thanked him, “Thank you for your donation. If you ever need any more help, you know where to find me”. With that, she left. Everyone in the group exchanged looks, and with the new knowledge about the Xanathar, Zantarum, and the stone of Golorr, the group starts walking towards the ThunderAle Tavern.

JPS Nagi
April 20, 2020

Prologue

I was never exposed to Dungeons & Dragons while growing up in India. During my later years, as I came to know about it, I have always been fascinated by the game that plays in your mind. After a few discussions during lunch and expressing my curiosity, one of my friends at work decided to set up an introductory D&D session for me. He even created my playable character for me after talking to me and we met after work.
That was last September and I loved it. At present, I am playing in two campaigns. I tend to take very detailed notes and so I decided to write one of the incidents that happened a month back in one of my campaigns. Although it is not the beginning, I am calling it “Prologue” (that may change later).

I do not claim that the story is mine, but it is how it played in my mind. The dialogs are how I heard them and the scenery is how I saw it. It is my retelling of how it went down. I hope my interest stays and I bring more stories like this.

I give you … Prologue …

Prologue

Grommish looks at everyone and speaks in his guttural voice, “I am going to approach the house. You guys should hang back. I do not want to scare the parents”.

Everyone nods except Yolanda, who seems to be annoyed. She grimaces at the suggestion and looks at Grommish, “I will come with you. Last time we talked to them, I was there”.

“Fine. But no threats this time. And I will do the talking”. Grommish stares at Yolanda with his piercing orc eyes. “Are we in agreement, Yolanda?”

She shrugs and gives a slight nod. Grommish starts walking towards the house and Yolanda follows him.

The rest of their company hangs back from the farmer’s home. The golden glow of the dusk sky gives a strange shade to the already harvested fields. It is a small and humble home made of raw clay bricks that give the house its shade. There are small colored decorations on the house in a darker hue along with some handprints around the outer wall. An old door made from oak wood adorns the house. The roof seems to need a new thatch and a small lantern is hanging on the side of the front of the door. A small paddy field extends around the house on the right and transforms into a vegetable garden behind it.

Carna feels a strange eeriness in the air, now that they were closer to the town.

“The town is aptly named Hopeless Fancy. The air is evil. I feel the hope is being drained out of me”, Carna says looking at the rest of them. Everyone seems to agree. Kalyn nods but keeps looking around, scouting the area.

“Would you give it a rest, my dear man. This is a poor farmer’s home”, Carna says.

“Hey, I can’t help it. This is what I do best” replies Kalyn with a smirk on his face.

Everyone turns their head towards the house, as they hear Grommish knock on the door in a friendly manner. A middle-aged woman opens the door. She is wearing simple lighter colored clothes which have seen some seasons. They can’t hear what they are talking from this distance, but it seems that the orc and the halfling are known to the woman. She seems friendly to them.

“Let’s get closer, I can’t hear a thing from here”, Verok suggests. Everyone starts to move a bit closer to the house. The woman looks at the motion beyond Grommish, her eyes widen as they settle on the Dragonborn.

Grommish notices her gaze. “It’s fine Ms. Clairidge, they are my friends. They are with me”, they hear Grommish telling the woman, as they get closer. “That is Verok, and yes he is a Drgonborn”.

The woman looks back at Grommish and sadness seems to creep back in her eyes.

“As I was saying Ms. Clairidge, Yolanda and I are still investigating the disappearance of your son. We caught Mad-Eye the hermit but it seems it was a false lead”. Krowley notices that Yolanda looks bored of all this talk and her hand slides along with her bow. The woman dabs her eye with the edge of her shawl and nods.

“Ms. Clairidge, I have a favor to ask. I know it is painful for you to recall, but I do wish if you could tell us one more time how did your son disappear”, Grommish requests in the friendliest way possible.

“Well, as I told you before”, her voice quivers, “after the day’s work, my husband and my son came back in the house for supper. They both looked tired from tilling the fields and getting ready for the next harvest season. The supper was a quiet affair, and after supper, my son went to bed. And the next morning, he was gone. Gone like the others”.

“Are there any other ways to get out of your house, besides this door?”. The woman shakes her head.

“Any windows in your son’s room where he could use to get out?”. She again shakes her head.

“And the door creaks! How did your son get out of the house without you or your husband knowing, Ms. Clairidge”. Everyone is looking at the woman waiting for her response. Even Yolanda was looking from Grommish to the woman.

Ms. Clairidge’s voice gets agitates a little bit, “What are you trying to say? Our son was kidnapped … kidnapped by that hermit, Mad-Eye … or whatever his name is. My poor son, I wonder where he is, and if he is still …”. She could not finish the sentence and started sobbing.

Grommish looks at her patiently. After a few moments, she composes herself “As I said, he was taken, just like the other children”.

“Ms. Clairidge, who are you afraid of?”. The woman’s face jerks up and she looks at Grommish. “Because you and I both know what you are telling us is not true. I caught up with Mad-Eye and he has not taken your son or any other child. Yes, I know, he was around your home when your son was kidnapped. He told me that he saw two figures walking away from your home that evening. It was a little darker so he did not see who it was. But he said one figure matched the height of your son”, Grommish’s tone was serious now. “Who are you afraid of, Ms. Clairidge? I implore you to please tell me what exactly happened. We need to know, so we can save your son, and other children who have been taken”.

“And this time, please tell us the truth”.

The woman’s eyes tear up and she starts sobbing. Grommish looks at Yolanda who still seemed indifferent and restless. He looks back at the woman who stops crying, takes a deep sigh and in quivering voice tells what happened.

“As I said, my husband and our son came back from the day’s work. After supper, my son went to his room. My husband and I were talking about how much we will be able to save from this harvest when we heard a knock on our door. My husband, David, was the one who answered the door. I was trying to see who was at the door, but my husband was blocking my view. All I could see was someone who was wearing a dark robe. Then my husband called my son. I stood up and walked up to the door. As our son came out of his room, my husband asked him to accompany the man. I tried stepping forward and asking him who is at the door, and why was he asking our son to go with him. But my husband blocked my path with his arm and closed the door behind our son. He stopped me from opening the door behind my son and told me later that it was the Dark Druid who threatened the life of our son. He also said that the druid told him that our son’s life will be spared if he comes with us. That’s all I know”.

Clairidge then drops on her knees, buries her face in her hands and started crying, “My son. Gone. Gone like the others. My poor son”.

Grommish kneels next to her and puts his hand on the woman’s shoulders.

“Don’t worry Ms. Clairidge, we will find your son. I am sorry that you had to relive this again. I do not think it was the Dark Druid who took your son. Dark Druids do not exist anymore, for a few thousand years now”. Ms. Clairidge looks up inquisitively at Grommish.

“You do not think it was the Dark Druid who took my son?”, she asks Grommish.

“No, I do not think so. I think someone is posing as a Dark Druid and I need to find out why. We will try our best to find your son and other children who have been taken. Thank you for telling us the truth. Now we know exactly what happened and can do the right investigation”.

“If it is alright with you, we would like to speak to your husband, David, and ask him if he can give us any clue to who could be the person who was posing as the Dark Druid”, Grommish says standing up.

The woman stops crying and nods. She stands up and points towards the field in the southwest direction beyond where the rest of the party is standing. “David is still working in the fields”.

Everyone turns to look behind at a solitary figure working on the other side of the field. He seemed to be trying to stay oblivious to them all, slowly moving away. As he notices everyone looking in his direction, he stands up.

“Hello there”, Carna calls. David drops the sickle and the scythe from his hands and starts running away from the house. Ms. Clairidge eyes widen in surprise and then she sees everyone running behind David.

JPS Nagi
March 15, 2020

I … am … home

36,000 feet in the air, flying above the Canadian Rockies, traveling from Amsterdam to Portland, back from our visit to India, I am wondering where is home? Amritsar, New Delhi or Portland?

Let me back up for more than three decades. I was born in the holy city of Amritsar, in a Sikh family, little did I knew that the home for me would be different during different phases of my life.

My early years were spent in my ancestral home of my grandfather, where our family dwelled with my uncle’s. His son is likely the closest of my cousin’s, having spent the most time with him. He was 10 years older than me, introduced me to Bruce Lee and Michael Jackson. Being the only child, I was spoilt. Being the youngest among my paternal cousins and oldest among the maternal ones, I was loved from both sides. My grandfather would carry me on his shoulders and take me to street vendors selling painted clay toys. My cousin taught me how to fly kite, and my dad taught me calculus (yes, I knew calculus as a young child, but that’s a different story). And my grandmother practically raised me. I was home.

As my dad bought his first house, we moved out of my grandfather’s home. I was 7 or 8 years old. The new home was alien a bit. I remember that I’d ask my parents to “Take me home” as they would put me to sleep. I missed our ancestral home. Over time, I made friends in the neighborhood, played cricket with them, and, most importantly, my grandfather came to live with us. The new house became home. I shared the room with my grandfather and before going to bed, I would ask him to “sing me a song”. He would oblige with singing “sacred hymns” or Shabads, which I would understand much later. He lived until the end of his days with us. That home also gave me the first experience of death. I do not believe I fully understood the gravity of it, as I was protected, and did not attend his funeral. It was maybe it was my parents’ way of protecting me. I also lost a friend to cancer at that young age – someone who was just a few months younger than me. My time there was not that melancholic though, I had lots of fun, learned to ride the bike in the neighborhood. I also started biking to school with friends from the neighborhood, eventually got a moped (yes those tiny things) much earlier than I should have been licensed to drive. I grew until late teens in that home, and the time came for us to move once to our current house within India. I think all three of us got emotional as we handed over the familiar sound of those jingling keys to the new owners. But were also excited to go to our new home.

The new house, where my parents still live, became my home for the next few years. My dad constructed it to home a decent size family. A jingling sound of new keys became part of our lives and we started to get familiar with which switches would turn on lights or fan in different rooms (we have way too many switches in each room). I did not get to live there much, because I left for studying engineering in Chandigarh and then move to New Delhi for a job. A couple of years later, destiny brought me back to Amritsar for two years and I was living once again with my parents. That was almost 20 years back, filled with some good memories. We bought our first car, and I drove it into our outer wall while bringing it home. I blasted classic rock music while occupying the top room in the house. I collected thousands of audio cassettes (my father keeps them as a memory of me). Got my first PC – Intel Pentium PC. And I dreamed of going to the USA. I also met my wife during those years.

My move to the USA was both less of a culture shock than a climate shock. I moved to cold, snowy Milwaukee, Wisconsin in the middle of January. My wife joined me a year later and a few months later, we moved to wet Portland, Oregon in 2001. We are now settled there. We have created our lives around our work. We found friends who became family. Got a house in 2007, became our home where we are raising two incredible human beings.

During this last visit to India, in November 2019, as I walked into the home in Amritsar, memories came flooding back. My brain brought memories of nooks and corners around the house. My muscle memories activated while walking around a broken floor, which my parents got it fixed, still, I kept skipping it. I started looking through the old photographs and fond memories of all the places I have been to. I saw colors in those black and white photos – the red seat of my tricycle, the stripes of my shirt, or the dress my mom wore. Vividly, I remembered the places where that photographs were taken – as an infant in my parents’ arms in our ancestral home and to see my kid’s photos in our home in Oregon.

As the trip was coming to close in India, someone commented that it seemed that “we were ready to go back home”. That made me think, where is my home?

Maybe it is at every place that I have lived or maybe it is where my heart lives and mind remembers or just maybe it is where I am with those whom I love and who love me. 36,000 feet above the ground heading back to Portland, makes me wonder, am I going home?

And as I look at the faces of my kids, I know … I … am … home!

JPS Nagi
November 30th, 2019
Written on the iPhone, 36,000 ft in the air, above the Canadian Rockies!

Ishtihaar (Ikk Kudi) by Shiv Kumar Batalvi – Guitar Chords with Translation

Shiv Kumar Batalvi’s poetry stands for it’s heightened passion, separation and lover’s agony. He is indeed Birha da Sultan – the king of separation of a beloved. He has dived into the abyss of pathos and put it in words that have inspired both the lovers and the lovers of Punjabi language.

The beauty of Shiv’s poetry is the simplicity of his words at the surface but pack a punch at a deeper level that has few rivals in the language. At an age of 30, he became the youngest recipient of Sahitya Akademi Award, a literary honor by India’s National Academy of Letters, Sahitya Akademi.

For more than 4 decades, his poems have attracted the singers with his poignancy and emotions. Each one has sung his poems with welled eyes to varied music genres. From acapella version by Shiv himself (check my blog here) to modern renditions, every singer has brought their own style, music, and flavor to his poems.

A few months back, as I started to pluck the strings of the guitar, once again Shiv’s poetry beckoned and I looked up to a more modern rendition of my all-time favorite poem – “Ishtihaar“. It is also sometimes called “Ikk Kudi“. The song has been arranged in musical notes by likes of Rabbi Shergill, Hans Raj Hans, and classic, Mahender Kapoor’s version. I had to find a version that a novice guitar player like me could play easily. And I found just the one from the movie Udta Punjab. It is sung by Diljit Dosanjh, with music by Amit Trivedi.

This version attracted me for a number of reasons – the simplicity of music arrangement, modern guitar chords, and of course Shiv’s poetry. As I started dissecting the song, I found that there was not a perfect version that I can play. So I had to create chords for it first before any strings would vibrate on the guitar.

With this blog post, I am sharing the chords for the song along with the English translation of the same.
Download printable version of the chords for the song from Udta Punjab.
Enjoy playing this on a guitar.

JPS Nagi
December 2018

PEC E&EC Class of 1996 Reunion 2018, in Las Vegas – ‘A Musical Gathering’

A couple of months back, someone in my PEC Electronics WhatsApp group suggested a get-together.  Within the next few hours, there was a big commotion, messages flying around with potential dates and excuses. Within a day, a sub-group was rolled out of folks who had agreed upon dates to meet at the Sin City. There was a bit of arm twisting and emotional blackmail – which resulted in folks (Adarsh and Bhup) flying in from the east coast and ND from even across the pond. The decision was that we all fly into Las Vegas on December 7th, 2018 and stay there for the weekend. The dates are well clear of the Thanksgiving or Christmas breaks.

And then the process of having a theme started. After all, there were eleven of us, and we were all meeting in Vegas … Ocean’s 11 came to mind. With Pompy at the helm of this get-together, it was christened Pompy’s 11. Themed T-shirts were suggested, and I quickly put a design together, again inspired by Ocean’s 11 (more like Ocean’s 8). We gathered all the shirt sizes, kept the design and color of the shirts secret – they are red of course.

Then, an earworm made it’s way to my mind. How about a musical theme for the gathering? I bounced it off Pompy and he loved it. Since we are all children of 80s/ 90s, it has to be on a cassette tape; which I was sure most will not be able to play. Pompy and I conspired on it and I got to work. The music that started as 11 tracks (to go with the theme of 11), became a baker’s dozen because I wanted to fill in full 60 minutes, and also because there were a couple of other songs that were too hard to miss.

Thus Pompy’s 11 – A Musical Gathering came into existence.
Of course, almost all of us are challenged from being able to play the cassette, so there is a digital download included too. Here is how the music came to be.

Side A (29 minutes)
Livin’ On the Edge – Aerosmith
Aerosmith had to be included … for Ajju. Two out of fours years at college, I have stayed next door to Ajju. And invariably, I have heard the tunes of the Bad Boys from Boston coming from his room. With songs like Dude Looks Like a Lady, and Janie’s got a Gun, Ajju was instrumental in making me (and us) aware of Aerosmith.

Thunderstruck – AC/ DC
One of the great example of how the music came before the lyrics. AC/DC’s soaring crescendo of a song about being Thunderstruck, the guitar rhythm was amazing and the lyrics to fit the bill. One of the popular songs to crank up the volume on those cassette boom boxes, AC/ DC was played by one and all.

Enter Sandman – Metallica
Metallica has a special place in everyone’s heart – for those who gathered and those who did not. A favorite headbanger number from one of the greatest bands of all time. The track had the energy that complemented ours during that age.

Smells Like Teen Spirit – Nirvana
Nirvana’s biggest hit and Cobain’s crowning glory made the grunge, cool again. It was an attempt by Nirvana to create a pop song – ended up becoming popular among all the headbangers we had at the hostel (dorm) parties.

Summer of ’69 – Bryan Adams
Like Ali Haidar’s Purani Jeans, Bryan Adam’s Summer of ’69 is like an anthem for our generation. It brings too many memories of growing, high school, and hormones. The guitar riff, which underwent a lot of changes, had the energy to be played at almost every gathering we have had.

You Give Love a Bad Name – Bon Jovi
Bon Jovi released Keep the Faith in 1992 followed by Cross Roads in 1994. Both albums could be heard int he corridors. You Give Love a Bad Name was particularly played on a smallish tape player, with Pompy, Ananth, and yours truly singing along at the top of their voice relatively late in the evening, while at the Thapar Institute of Technology for an inter-college cultural competition.

Side B (27 minutes)
Sweet Child O’ Mine – Guns N’ Roses
Appetite for Destruction which came 4 years prior to G’n’R’s Use your Illusions duology, had one of their most successful songs. – Sweet Child O’ Mine. Axl Rose’s soaring six-octave range made this song to be our favorite.

We Will Rock You – Queen
This is one of the few songs, that I recall, Numi loved. He would always get happy just hearing either the beat or the guitar riff of the song. It is also one of the songs that are played often during sports and radio events.

Are You Gonna Go My Way – Lenny Kravitz
Lenny Kravitz made its way into our collective consciousness when Sumant suggested it for one of the mock-rock competition. Needless to say that we won that competition and the song became an integral part of the music for all of us.

Roadhouse Blues – The Doors
I had never heard of The Doors. When Akshay (our friend from Civil Engineering), another of my next-door neighbor during one of the years, shared his 90-minute BASF Cobalt mixtape with me, I turned to The Doors. I copied The Best of The Doors (German Edition) and rest is history. I played it over and over again in my boom-box. And The Doors became my favorite group. A bit of trivia, other than The Beatles, The Doors is the only other group whose group members I can name without thinking. 

Smoke on the Water – Deep Purple
Deep Purple was the other Brit rock band. An instant classic with one of the world’s most popular beginning guitar riff. It was loved by one and all. One of the first songs that come to mind when we think of our time at PEC.

Immigrant Song – Led Zeppelin
The song that refers to war-making with reference to Norse mythology and halls of Valhalla, this song was popular among the fans of Brit-Rock likes of which included Pink Floyd, Rolling Stones, and Deep Purple. Againthis one is for Sumant.

Pour Some Sugar On Me – Def Leppard
The list started with Ajju, and it has to end with him too. I can still hear Ajju singing at the top of his voice while walking in the corridors of our hostel (dorm), “Pour Some Sugar On Me”. Def Leppard became one of the favorite pop-rockish band that everyone loved.

I am publishing this on the day we are all supposed to arrive in Vegas. So many may not have seen this or even known about the theme. But here it and all shall reveal today afternoon.

JPS Nagi
December 7, 2018