PU LA DESHPANDE AUDIO BOOK
निव्डक पुल भाग ५ अंतू बर्वा आणि म्हैस. 28 ऑक्टो निव्डक पुल भाग १ मध्ये - पुलंचं पाऴीव प्राणी हे प्रसिध्द अभिवाचन. 28 ऑक्टो निव्डक पुल भाग ६ मध्ये अर्पूवाईतील प्रवासवर्णन आणि पानवाला.
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निवडक पु.ल भाग १ (Nivadak Pu La Bhag 1). पु.ल देशपांडे (myavr.info Deshpande) (Artist, Composer, Conductor) Format: Audio CD. Be the first to review this. पु ल देशपांडे यांचे धमाल विनोदी कथाकथन व व्याख्यान जरूर वाचा | Kathakathan of Pu La Deshpande. Purushottam Lakshman Deshpande . Buy free download audio books marathi by pu la deshpande online at best price in Pune. We have wide range of free download audio books marathi by pu la.
He has every other evil habit imaginable but has no idea that the things he do are wrong. There is also a school boy named Sakharam Gatne, who speaks classical Marathi and is addicted to books. Lakhu Risbud, who is another interesting character, is a disillusioned writer who wanted to change the world with his pen, but ends up working as a sub-editor in some obscure magazine.
The list goes on, with a fine variety of characters reflecting the ironies of life. Get A Copy. Paperback , 34 th Edition , pages. More Details Original Title. Konkan India. Sahitya Akademi Award Other Editions 2. Friend Reviews. To see what your friends thought of this book, please sign up. I want to download this book?
आठवणीतले पु ल देशपांडे | Pu La Deshpande Aathavani
Sanket Kirve can any one tell me where is the reading option. Lists with This Book. Community Reviews. Showing Rating details. More filters. Sort order. Jul 07, Apoorv Moghe rated it it was amazing Shelves: Riveting, to say the least! This man, P. Deshpande , just exemplifies how a book is to be written. The way he sketches each and every character is magical and life-infusing to the words he wrote. His impeccable way of adding the hues to the persona of the character by sketching the intricate personality details is awe-inspiring yet never for once does the book or the story turns dull and monotonous.
Each character, each story, each word lives up to its meaning and adds meaning to our lives.. Must, must read! View all 8 comments. Apr 24, Rahul Waghmare rated it really liked it Shelves: View 1 comment. Jun 20, Ranjeet Bhosale rated it it was amazing.
Vyakti ani valli is my first pu la deshpande written book.
Though i have been hearing his name since my childhood days and his charisma as written seems to have captivated many minds it was this inquisition,About a marathi author so famous that led me to venturing into actually reading one. First and foremost, Bravo!!! Pu la has a writing style like no other he really takes you on a joyride that not even for one second or one word do you feel disconnected from the book and his world, the charact Vyakti ani valli is my first pu la deshpande written book.
Pu la has a writing style like no other he really takes you on a joyride that not even for one second or one word do you feel disconnected from the book and his world, the characters described within the book just seem to appear around you spinning around your mind speaking the words that you read, keeps you hooked to the core and you enjoy meeting them, getting to know them with light dashes of satire the author feels when encountering situations with them, such easy grace and finesse in his writing is what makes him stand apart from others.
Pu la deshpande is truely a magician with the pen. Jan 14, Jyotsna rated it it was amazing Shelves: Superb collection of character sketches.
Pu La Deshpande
Each character is so unique and described in a very interesting way. Some characters make u laugh, some surprise you, some put smile on your face and some wet the corners of your eyes.
Feb 27, Kedarnaik rated it it was amazing. Could any book which is claims to be based upon observation of normal human beings be any better!!!!!!! I'm proud of my mother tongue because we have such great books written in Marathi!!!! Feb 11, Ashish Thorat rated it really liked it. Jul 19, Ajinkya Kelkar rated it it was amazing. Characters in the book literally stand in front of you and start talking. Suddenly one starts identifying them in people that you know! Jul 29, Anuja Patil rated it it was amazing.
Dec 23, Mandar Dahigaonkar rated it it was amazing. One of the best books by Pu La. Have read this countless no. Dec 09, Archies rated it it was amazing. Environment , people , description and Pu La's style all are perfect.
I have never find some one else who is near to Pu La. Apr 17, Swapnil Dahiwal rated it it was amazing. This review has been hidden because it contains spoilers. To view it, click here. Takes back to old doordarshan serial on the same. Sep 10, Bhushan Kelkar rated it really liked it.
Oct 17, Gaurav Lele rated it it was amazing. A masterpiece. Mar 04, Akshay rated it it was amazing. Just perfect! Jul 30, Ajinkya rated it it was amazing. Marvelous Book! The way P. L writes the book takes you into an era not so far back in time yet so much different from today. The plane was completely packed and experienced travelers were already snoring.
Our air-hostess was Japanese. She was promptly and efficiently offering candy and nuts to travelers with a studied smile straight out of the training syllabus. Her walk was brisk and her voice had the crispness of springtime. I was feeling really hot. That damned suit on my body started feeling like clunky armor and I again cursed myself for wearing it on the plane. I looked around and was taken aback when I noticed at an Englishman sitting in front of me. Here I was, wearing a brand new three piece suit because I was going to his snooty country.
And this dude was sitting there looking very relaxed in khaki shorts, a flannel shirt with some twenty five pockets, and a flimsy felt hat that did not match. So I discreetly looked around at the other white people on the flight. Not a single one of them was dressed even as remotely formally as I was. Sitting there overdressed in that damned suit in the middle of the night, I started feeling like even more of a neophyte than I already was.
Suddenly the Japanese air-hostess appeared with a small wet towel on a plate. I eyed the towel suspiciously for a second. I had no idea what purpose a wet towel was supposed to serve at two in the morning.
But I was brought up never to turn a plate away, so I picked up the towel and thanked her. I looked at my wife to see if she had any suggestions, but she was fast asleep. I slowly glanced across the aisle and saw that the guy there was gently rubbing the towel on his face.
I did the same, and the cool cologne scented fabric gave me some relief from the intense heat I was experiencing. Our massive jumbo jet was slicing through the darkness leaving cities and mountains behind. I was finally feeling a little drowsy. Almost everyone around me, including my wife, was already asleep. That Englishman with the khaki shorts was in fact trying to drown out the noise of the engine with his own booming multi-octave snores with his mouth open.
The ex-subject of Her Majesty's realm inside me felt relieved to observe first-hand that even the English can snore with their mouths open. Because once our travel plans were made, I was a bit worried about that.
You see, I am one of "those" too.
But over the course of my life, I have come across some impressively loud snorers. My grandma says that people with big hearts and minds snore the most. I don't know if there is any correlation between big bodies and big hearts and minds - I won't mind if there is.
I started thinking a lot about snoring and hearts and minds. I do remember that I spent a lot of time thinking about it. But I don't know for how long, because the next thing I knew, I was waking up to the dawn's early light.
Our plane was flying over a huge desert. I noted how different this dawn was from any other dawn I had experienced in my life, thousands of miles over a limitless desert. This experience, coming right after I had experienced a darkness so different from any other darkness I had experienced in my life, spurred some philosophical and metaphorical thoughts.
It felt like I was witness to the dawn of a new phase of my life. I thought about my recent years and realized that I hadn't really experienced real dawn in years. In Mumbai's fast-paced hectic life, by the time my day ended, it was usually well past midnight. So by the time I usually woke up, dawn would have given up on waiting for me and slid away, making way for harsh sunlight. Our Japanese air-hostess, still looking as fresh as a dew-kissed flower, was making the rounds with hot fortifying beverages for the morning.
I have never found those beverages particularly fortifying immediately after waking up, so I politely declined her offer of tea or coffee. Instead, I got up and headed to the bathroom. Taking care not to wake up or bump into any of the other passengers, I tiptoed my way to the front, and slowly opened the door to what I thought was the bathroom.
Instead I found myself face-to-face with the fine gentlemen flying the plane. It was the cockpit door! I guess the expression on my face gave away what my need was because the co-pilot, without saying anything, pointed me to the correct door. I finished my morning ablutions and returned to the seat to find the "fasten seatbelts" sign flashing. By the time I was able to find the belt and buckle it up, the plane had started its rapid descent.
I looked out the window and saw that we were headed to a desert island surrounded by more desert. I assumed it was Cairo, our first stopover. I started looking around the landscape in the hopes of spotting some pyramids. By the time I spotted a bump that I thought was a pyramid and was about to point it out to my wife, the plane was touching down, and before I knew it, it was standing stationary in a foreign land. I looked at the dinky terminal outside the window and was a little disappointed that a city as renowned as Cairo should have an airport that looks more like an ST bus stand.
But once we got off the plane, I learned that we were not in Cairo, but in some place called "Bahrain" instead. I felt a bit like Columbus who reached land confident that he was in India but then discovered that he was instead in some strange land he did not know anything about.
And I felt relieved that I had not pointed out those supposed pyramids to my wife. I had never heard of Bahrain before and had no idea where the hell it exactly was or why we were there instead of Cairo.
But we walked into the terminal and headed for the restaurant. I learned that there were oilfields nearby and that Bahrain is a small island nation that is known for its oilfields.
That was pretty much all we learned about the place. We sat in the restaurant, ordered tea, and waited while the plane was refueled. The tea arrived after a long time. One sip of that concoction and I was convinced that in Bahrain, they used dried date palm leaves in lieu of tea leaves and the milk probably came from a camel instead of a cow. Over the course of my life, I have tasted many different kinds of tea Tea served in small glass tumblers in Mumbai, tea served in mud bowls on the banks of the Narmada, tea served in metallic cups in Madras, masala milk tea, railway station tea flavored with charcoal, tea without milk, tea without sugar, and even Chinese tea made from jasmine flowers.
I will happily drink the bitterest castor potion than drink that tea again. Well, at least the tea was free, because it was paid for by the airline. Pretty soon, the plane was ready and we all climbed back into its belly.
The plane took off soon and headed for Cairo. The flight from Bahrain to Cairo was essentially just desert after desert after desert. Once in a while, just as a change of scenery, there would be a small strip of water. But otherwise, totally barren. Not a single glimpse of green. And that's when I really understood why the green flag of Islam came was hoisted in these deserts first. The prophet was very clever in choosing the color green for his flag.
It is obvious why millions of Arabs enthusiastically followed that rare pleasant colored flag. I'm sure that the green flag was as instrumental in the spread of Islam as the Koran was. Add to it the moon that the desert dwellers probably equated with the relief provided by night, and I felt I had to applaud the prophet for his grasp of semiotics.
It was about in the morning. I was staring at the desert out the window hoping to spot a camel train. But in vain. I did spot a lot of dry river beds though. Soon the sun got really bright and the glare made it difficult to keep looking outside. Soon our plane moved from the sea of sand to a sea of water.
I still have no idea which one it was. A while later, there were murmurs all around that we were flying over the Suez Canal. All passengers looked out the windows, identified the first strip of water they could find, and assured themselves that it was the Suez Canal.
Again, no idea if any of those were actually the Suez Canal. From the height we were flying at, every strip of water looked as tiny as the Fergusson College canal in Pune. But in one strip, I spied some dots that seemed like boats and I silently convinced myself that it was indeed the Suez Canal. It was hard to believe that this tiny strip of water was responsible for almost starting World War 3 and almost sinking my travel plans.
When your plane is flying so high that you can only see the sky and clouds above you as well as below you, you can't help but get philosophical. You forget any fears you have about the plane crashing. Looking at creation from a height that makes even seas look like saucers of water makes you realize how insignificant you are in the whole scheme of things. As our plane flew towards Cairo, I couldn't help but realize that I was looking at the cradle of civilization.
These deserts were where the Babylonian, Sumerian, and Assyrian civilizations had once bloomed. Where the library of Alexandria was once home to millions of of books that were burned. I'm assuming some Big Four or Big Five must have had a summit even then and decided that burning books was in the best interests of the world.
As impressive as the sights of great oceans, great skies, and great lands is while flying, one look at the great space when flying above clouds make them all pale in comparison. And you start wondering what the whole point of creation is, and whether you make any difference to it whatsoever. Our plane was about to reach Cairo soon and I started thinking about it.
Egypt is an ancient civilization, much like India. Historians have discovered that trade and cultural links between Egypt and India date back millenia. This is the land that saw rich culture flourish for millenia even before Christ was born.
And when Christ was born, the bright star that shone was above these lands too. This is the land where Jews, Christians, and Muslims found their faiths and then unfurled the blood-soaked flags of those faiths. I was in the middle of these thoughts and didn't even realize when I dozed off. The first sight I saw at Cairo airport was of battle-ready fighter jets. Next to them were imposing anti-aircraft guns with their barrels pointed to the sky.
The stage seemed to be set for the next big war. The only question seemed to be which actors would enter the stage first and who the director would be. Actors from dozens of countries seemed to be ready, with war-paint on, or make-up on. Who knew when the final act would start and when it would end. Why shouldn't all human beings be welcomed heartily all over this little planet of ours?
Although as long as there exist things like passports and visas, built on an assumption of distrust of fellow human beings, can we really expect true expressions of such humanity?
We headed to the restaurant inside the terminal. The waiters there were very friendly and polite, and served us some divine Egyptian coffee.
Compared to Mumbai airport, I thought Cairo airport was small. There was a lot of new construction happening around us though. Egypt is currently in the midst of writing a new chapter in its history. Everybody is watching carefully to see which way their new statesman Nasser takes them. It was in Cairo airport that I first encountered Egyptian people.
And as I examined their appearance carefully, I wondered how many Egyptians there might be in Mumbai too. Because in terms of appearance, I didn't really see any major differences between Egyptians and Indians.
Beyond the facts I had memorized in my childhood to score 2 marks in the history exam, such as pyramids, mummies, pharaohs, and the Nile river, my knowledge about Egypt was as barren as their desert. I had never even thought about anyone living in Egypt other than Cleopatra, General Najeeb, and now this Nasser fellow. Suddenly, I was overcome by a profound sense of ignorance and curiosity as a foreigner in a foreign land. And sitting there in the Cairo airport, I started thinking about how day-to-day life in Egypt must be and how I knew nothing about it.
How do school teachers, lawyers, and bureaucrats here dress? Is it similar to how those folks dress in India? What is the most popular item in a typical restaurant in Egypt? Do wives here refer to their husbands by name or is there some tactful pronoun that has been coined for the purpose like in India? With each passing second, the expanse of my ignorance about this fascinating culture seemed to exceed the expanse of the desert.
Then I started thinking about the people who worked at that airport. For them, a typical day consisted of interacting with travelers from dozens of different countries, for maybe an hour or two at a time, before they went on their way and were replaced by a different set of foreigners.
Do they feel the same sense of curiosity and note their ignorance about other cultures? Or has it become just a mundane feature of their lives by now? Do they actively notice the multi-colored lattice of different races and nationalities or does it just pass by in the blink of an eye like a frame from a cinema reel? I spent the rest of the time in Cairo thinking about all this before we were called back to the plane.
The next stopover was Geneva in Switzerland. As our plane surged through the clouds, we gradually left the desert behind and were soon traveling over Europe. Specifically, Italy, as the pilot informed us. While I was almost entirely ignorant about Egypt except for its ancient history and contemporary politics, I at least knew more about Italy thanks to all the books I had read. Names like Rome, Venice, and Naples started swimming around in my head.
I decided that if the plane had to crash right now, I would want it to do so near Naples. I had read that Naples was home to some of the most awe-inspiring sculptures in the world. So if my plane crashed in Naples, I could drag myself to those sculptures, see them first hand, and then die happy.
Yes, I know it is morbid to keep pondering the possibility of the plane crashing but that's how I am and be honest, aren't you too?
But the plane kept going. I kept looking at the Italian landscape underneath and we didn't see Naples or Venice. But we did fly over Rome. It was hard to miss.
As I looked at the distant but clear images of various buildings and cathedrals in Rome, I first felt a great sense of satisfaction at seeing them first hand. Then I compensated for the unfamiliar bliss by berating myself for still not having read Gibbon's "The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire" even after buying it years ago.
I made a mental note to read it as soon as I returned home. When you're flying over different countries of the world, you think more about what you haven't read about those lands than what you have read.
In another hour or so, our plane was flying over the gorgeous alps and I realized we were in Europe's Eden. Soon the plane touched down in Geneva. I had heard a lot of cautionary tales about how the cold in Europe is way worse than anything I might have experienced in India. I experienced it first hand as I walked into the Geneva airport and felt like I had walked into a massive refrigerator.
And this was just August! So I shivered a little and prepared for six more months of this inhumanly cold weather.
No wonder these white folks ran away and captured our warmer lands. As soon as I stepped into the chilly Geneva airport, my brain initiated a flashback from 20 years ago from my college days in Pune. I had grown up in Mumbai, where it never gets even remotely chilly.
Then in Pune in the winters, every so often, I would wake up to such a chilly morning. It felt more bracing than oppressive, making me feel like running all the way across the world. I had always thought cold weather would make me feel like a shriveled old man, but instead, it made me feel like a daring young man, ready to achieve anything! Anyway, we walked into the restaurant at the Geneva airport and it looked more like a flower shop than a restaurant. The faces of all the staff members were fresh and enthusiastic like recently bloomed lilies.
There was a spring in their step. It didn't look like anyone could ever age, and everyone looked like they were in their 20s even though they probably weren't. We were served coffee in a very elegantly crafted glass cup. And it tasted divine and almost intoxicating.
I wondered that if even the coffee here gets my pulse racing so much, what will stronger beverages do? I had heard that Switzerland is a place where extreme beauty and extreme pleasure is the default and my experiences at their airport confirmed it.
I didn't even realize when that stopover at Geneva ended. It was cold, but I was surrounded by beauty, human and non-human, and I felt more alive than I ever had.
Before I got back on the plane, I turned around and took a degree mental picture of all I could see of Switzerland from that terminal. The tall trees sheltering cute little houses, the snow-covered peaks of the Alps kissing the deep blue sky.
I promised myself to return for a more leisurely visit.
Pu. La. Deshpande – Book Collection
When the plane took off, I was looking at a meandering little river as it flowed through the verdant Swiss countryside, when suddenly, our plane ascended above the clouds.
And those fluffy white things that a few hours earlier had seemed gorgeous, now seemed like villains for blocking my view of the Swiss landscape. Our journey continued. The next stop was to be at Dusseldorf in Germany, It had been over 20 hours since we took off from Mumbai. The hands of my watch had already been rotated many times by then. Every hour, the pilot made announcements about how high we were flying, what the temperature outside was, what the local time was, and so on.
Passengers around us were saying random things in response to those announcements like, "Oh! That's nice! Very high! Honestly, this whole thing of estimating distances has been a challenge for me, whether I am in the air or on the ground. Whenever I read about some witness in court say stuff like "the accused was 19 feet away from me", I feel jealous of his ability to express distance so precisely.
Because I absolutely suck at it. I can't even remember the inches in my own measurements for shoes, hats, collars, socks, and so on. When a shoe salesman asks what size I want, I just give him the chappals I am wearing then and ask him to figure it out. I have immense respect for people who go shoe shopping and say stuff like "Bring me Number 8 pairs". And when someone remembers the precise date on which something happened, I feel overcome enough with admiration to go hug them.
When I hear someone say stuff like, "I remember it was July 17th I suck at dates too. Which is why I always sucked at history in school. Even now, I remember only three dates - Shivaji Maharaj died in , the uprising happened in , and using multiple reminder mnemonics, my wife's birthday. Other than these three, I have no idea of any other dates. You can ask me when India gained independence and I will try to hedge between and Anyway, the point is, I am horrible with anything that is expressed numerically.
So even before I could figure out how high 18, feet exactly is, our plane was touching down in Dusseldorf. Before I knew it, we were surrounded by cries of "Achtung! My wife and I walked to the terminal, now sick of this sequence of stopovers. I was in Germany with its rich history and culture and intriguing contemporary split between East and West, but I didn't give a damn.
The aforementioned Joshi and Patil left us here and we sat there hoping that we'd reach London before we died of boredom.Based on the references to the Suez Crisis, I'm guessing it happened in or Once in a while, just as a change of scenery, there would be a small strip of water.
The list goes on, with a fine variety of characters reflecting the ironies of life. Could any book which is claims to be based upon observation of normal human beings be any better!!!!!!! I looked at the dinky terminal outside the window and was a little disappointed that a city as renowned as Cairo should have an airport that looks more like an ST bus stand.
That customs officer I encountered when returning from Goa had insulted me rather painfully! The version of the browser you are using is no longer supported.
Feb 11, Ashish Thorat rated it really liked it.
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