अभी कौम नहीं है हमारी

कुछ वर्ष पूर्व, अफ़घानिस्तान में हिंदुस्तान कि सरकार ने डॉक्टरों का एक दल भेजा था| लड़ाई के बाद अफ़घानिस्तान का पुनर निर्माण का कार्यक्रम चालू हो गया था, और डॉक्टरों का यह दल उसी के चलते हिंदुस्तान कि एक पहल थी| हांलांकि सरकारी तौर पर यह सब civilian डॉक्टर थे, पर असल में यह हिन्दुस्तानी फ़ौज के अफसर थे| अफ़घानिस्तान में माहौल इस तरह का नहीं था कि civilian डॉक्टरों को भेजा जा सके|
कुछ समय पहले, उन्ही में से एक डॉक्टर से मेरी बात हो रही थी| वे अपने अफ़घानिस्तान के अनुभवों के बारे में बता रहे थे| हिन्दुस्तानी डॉक्टरों के लिए सुरक्षा के इंतज़ाम काफी मज़बूत थे| उनके साथ हमेशा अंगरक्षकों की एक टोली रहती थी| ऐसे में एक दिन इन जनाब ने अपने मेज़बान अंगरक्षक से पुछा, ऐसा क्यूँ है कि अफघानी डॉक्टरों को कोई सुरक्षा नहीं, जबकि हिन्दुस्तानी डॉक्टरों के साथ पूरी सुरक्षा है| उनके अंगरक्षक ने बड़ा साधारण लेकिन गहरा उत्तर दिया. उसका कहना था "आपको सुरक्षा दी गयी है, क्यूंकि आप अकेले है| आपकी कोई कौम नहीं है| आपको मारना बहुत आसान है| आपके लिए कोई खड़ा नहीं होगा| अगर हमें कोई मारेगा, तो हमारा पूरा गाओ, हमारी पूरी कौम हमारे लिए खड़ी हो जायेगी"|

मेरे विचार में उस अंगरक्षक कि कही यह बात बहुत महत्वपूर्ण है| सवाल यहाँ बदला लेने का नहीं है| सवाल यह है कि समाज क्या होता है| हम समाज किसे कहते है| समाज और समूह में क्या फर्क होता है|
समाज का एक अभिन्न अंग होता है "sense of belonging". ध्यान दे कि यह एक sense है (भाव), न कि "reason/logic/utility of belonging". यह अपनत्व का भाव समाज और समूह में फरक करता है| हिंदुस्तान के पतन में, हम समाज से समूह और समूह से भीड़ कि तरफ बढ़ गए है| भीड़ को मैं समूह से भी निकृष्ट हालत में मानता हू| भीड़ का अपना कोई मानस नहीं होता| या फिर ऐसा कहे कि भीड़ का मानस अनिश्चित होता है, और इसी लिए खतरनाक भीड़ होती है (अंग्रेजी में 'mob mentality' कहते है, जिसको बेहद अनिश्चित और खतरनाक मानते है)|
अफ़घानिस्तान में इतने वर्ष की बर्बादी के बावजूद भी, उनके समाज में एक अपनत्व दीखता है| और वह भी इस स्तर कि वह अपनों के लिए जान भी दे सकते है| इसमें यह ध्यान रखने कि बात है, कि यह अपनत्व अफ़घानिस्तान राष्ट्र के लिए नहीं, बल्कि अपनी कौम के लिए है| मेरा मानना है कि राष्ट्र के लिए अपनत्व हो भी नहीं सकता| अपनत्व तो अपनी गली के लिए, मोहल्ले कि लिए, गाँव और समाज के लिए ही होता है| यह अपनत्व धर्म और मज़हब में भी नहीं दीखता|

पश्चिम के देशों में तो समाज जैसी कोई चीज़ दीखती है नहीं है| वहा या तो एक व्यक्ति है और या फिर state है| हिंदुस्तान के शहरो में व्यक्ति और state के बीच अभी परिवार भी है| लेकिन परिवार के अस्तित्व पर सवाल खड़ा हो गया है| शायद एक पीढ़ी के बाद हम लोग भी पश्चिम जितने विकसित हो चुके होंगे और परिवार विलुप्त हो जायेंगे| यहाँ पर मै विकास और समाज/परिवार के विलुप्त होने को एक कार्य-कारण (cause-effect) सम्बन्ध में जोड़ रहा हु| आज का विकास भोगवादी अर्थव्यवस्था से परिभाषित होता है| और आज का विकास power के केन्द्रियेकरण को बढाता है| इसके चलते परिवार और समाज का कमज़ोर पड़ना और फिर विलुप्त होना लाज़मी है| इसमें हमारी technology के स्वभाव का भी एक बड़ा हाथ है| technology और power का सम्बन्ध एक महत्वपूर्ण मुद्दा है|
आजादी के बाद हिंदुस्तान में technology के इतिहास पर एक शोध होना चाहिए| ऐसा नहीं है कि आविष्कार केवल हिंदुस्तान के शहरों में, वैज्ञानिको की प्रयोगशाला में ही हुए है, बल्कि आविष्कार गाँव में भी हुए है| इस बात की पुष्टि अहमदाबाद स्थित honeybee network के लोग कर सकते है, jo पिछले कुछ वर्षों से ऐसे आविष्कारों को document करने का काम कर रहे है| मेरे विचार में इन दो तरह की technologies पर- इनके स्वभाव पर, इनके समाज पर असर पर, इनका power के साथ सम्बन्ध पर, शोध होना चाहिए|

खैर वापस समाज पर आते है, और अपनत्व के उस भाव पर जो समाज को समूह से अलग करता है| ऐसा नहीं है कि समाज हिंदुस्तान से विलुप्त ही हो गया है| हिन्दुतान इतना बड़ा और विविध देश है, कि किसी बदलाव को आते आते भी कई पीढियां लग जाती है| बदलाव चाहे अच्छा हो या बुरा, हिंदुस्तान कि अपनी एक चाल है| इस धीमी चाल का कारण जनसँख्या नहीं, बल्कि हिंदुस्तान कि विविधता है| विविधता का होना, यह दर्शाता है कि हिंदुस्तान मै अभी भी एक स्तर पर काफी विकेन्द्रित power equation है| एक तरफ जहा बड़े शहरों के पढ़े लिखे वर्ग में secularism के भूत के चलते, समानता और uniformity/standardization का फर्क ख़तम हो गया है, वही अनपद वर्ग का दिल अभी भी बड़ा है और वह असमानता से घबराता नहीं है| अनपद वर्ग अपने साथ अपने रीति रिवाज, अपनी भाषा, और अपनी मान्यताये लेके चलता है| पढ़ा लिखा वर्ग, उन सभी चीज़ें जो असमान है- के प्रति ग्लानी रखता है| तो अगर मै एक secularist हू, तो में टीका नहीं लगा सकता, दाढ़ी नहीं रख सकता, धोती नहीं बाँध सकता, टोपी नहीं पहन सकता, गाये को रोटी नहीं खिला सकता| अगर मै ऐसा करता हु, तो यह संभव है कि मेरे बाकी secular साथी मुझे fundamentalist कह कर अछूत कर दे|
secularism का वास्तव मतलब है कि में अपनी धोती बांधू और आप अपनी दाढ़ी रखे और फिर हम साथ काम कर सके, बात कर सके, बहस कर सके, disagree हो sake| secularism का मतलब यह नहीं है कि हम दोनों paint-shirt पहन ने लगे| paint-shirt पहन कर disagree होने में कोई बहादुरी नहीं है|

मेरे विचार में, इस आरोपित समानता ने अपनत्व ख़तम किया है| सामान होने के चक्कर में हमने ऐसी चीज़ें स्वीकारी है, ऐसा जीवन अपनाया है जो अपना नहीं लगता| मै यह भी मानता हु, कि अनपद वर्ग को असमानता से घबराहट या तकलीफ नहीं है| अनपद वर्ग के लिए समानता कोई मुद्दा नहीं है| दक्षिण भारत कि महिला बालों में गजरा पेहेंती है और उत्तर भारत कि महिला इसको बुरा मानती है| लेकिन उनमें इस बात कि ज़रुरत नहीं है कि दूसरी महिला भी गजरा पहने या न पहने| असमानता को दिल में जगह देना मेरे विचार में secularism है| समानता कि हट नहीं| ऐसे में एक महत्त्वपूर्ण विच्छेद करना ज़रूरी है| अंग्रेजी का शब्द community और हिंदी का शब्द समाज एक नहीं है| हमारा इनको एक दुसरे का translation मानना एक गलती है| community शब्द commune से आता है जहा समानता मुख्यतम मूल्य है| दूसरी ओर समाज में विविधता की बात आती है| विविधता समाज में समृद्धि दर्शाती है| विविधता और अपनत्व साथ साथ हो सकते है|

अन्ना के आन्दोलन में अभी समाज नहीं था| अभी समूह ही था| मेरा तात्पर्य अन्ना के आन्दोलन को बेकार बताना नहीं है| बल्कि यह कहना है कि आगे की दिशा समूह से समाज के तरफ की दिशा है| कुछ वर्ष पूर्व, गुडगाँव की एक फैक्ट्री के मजदूर आन्दोलन कर रहे थे| आन्दोलन तोड़ने के लिए पोलिसे ने लाठी चार्ज किया और मजदूरों की बेहरमी से पिटाई हुई| मीडिया ने इसको लाइव कोवेरगे दी थी| अगले दिन, गुडगाँव और आस पास के इलाको के लोग (आदमी और औरते) लाठी लेके वहा के SP के दफ्तर पहुँच गए| उस समय कोई sms अभियान ya facebook/twitter नहीं थे| ऐसे ही, करीब एक वर्ष पूर्व मायावती सरकार ने महेंद्र सिंह टिकैत के गिरफ्तारी के order पास कर दिए थे (टिकैत ने बिजनौर मै किसी सभा में चमार शब्द का प्रयोग किया था, जो की कानूनन तौर पर एक अपराध है)| टिकैत के गाँव ने उनको घेर लिया और पोलिसे को गाँव के अन्दर आने नहीं दिया| ऐसे में सरकार ने अतिरिक्त पोलिसे बल भेजा| फिर आस पास के और लोग इकठ्ठा हो गए| एक तरफ जहा पोलिसे बल बढ़ रहा था, वही दूसरी ओर बाकी इलाके के लोग आने लगे| यह किस्सा मीडिया में बहुत हलके रूप में प्रकट हुआ था| लोगो ने गिरफ्तार नहीं होने दिया टिकैत को| आखिर में सरकार और टिकैत के बीच एक गुप्त समझोता हुआ, जिसके चलते वहा से पोलिसे को हटाया गया और टिकैत ने एक local court में समर्पण किया|

मै यहाँ टिकैत से सहानुभूति या उनसे एक मत नहीं रख रहा| न ही में गुडगाँव की महिलाओं से एक मत रख रहा हु, जिन्होंने लाठी लेके SP office में पहुँच कर पोलिसे अफसरों की पिटाई कर दी| मै समाज के उस अपनत्व के भाव की बात को लाने की चेष्टा कर रहा हु जिसे उस अफ़घान सिपाही ने कही थी| अगर किसी आन्दोलन को देशव्यापी होना है तो अनपद वर्ग को शामिल होना होगा| और इसके चलते समानता और secularism के प्रति उदारता दिखानी होगी| दिल में असमानता की जगह बनानी होगी और political correctness को थोडा ढीला छोड़ना होगा|

Udaan- as a work of Art

Udaan- Work of Art

A peep into its morals

कहानी ख़त्म है, या शुरुआत होने को है
सुबह नयी है, या फिर रात होने को है|

The movie starts and ends with the above lines. Rohan, the central character faces the same situation in life twice within a short period. The situation being a crossroad, a do-raaha, where one is not sure what lies ahead. The possibilities can be between two extremes. One being the end of story and the other being a new chapter in life (indicated by the words of the song). The movie begins with Rohan being suspend from boarding school after being found guilty third time of indiscipline. He has been asked to leave school and head home. On the way he wonders what lies ahead of him, if this is the end of life or if it is a start of a new chapter ( the question being all the more important since he hasn’t met his father for 8 years). The end of movie is again with the same question. Rohan after much thought and spent anger decides to leave the house of his tyrant father (and take his younger step brother along). He is sure to leave behind his past, but his future is not certain. And it can take the two extremes of either being the end, or turn of a new chapter.

The movie is a depiction of Grey characters. Except the young boy (who is not old enough to have shades of Grey), all the characters have both something to hate, and something to love about. Even the most negatively portrayed character of Bhairon Singh (Rohan’s father, played extremely well by Ronit Roy), has a certain positivity in it. Though tyrant, he still has some principles. To start with, given all the frustration and loneliness in his life, he has not given up on the responsibility of his boys. He does have a chitran of what a man should be, and tries to shape his boys accordingly (though his methods are subject of criticism through out the movie). The other aspect of Bhairon Singh’s character is that though from outside he appears all strong, firm and heartless, but the movie is able to show the emotive side of him too. The man does feel lonely, he feels and admits the need of a partner (and hence goes for a third marriage, in which he is ready to accept the responsibility of a young girl).

The shades of Grey is what makes the character realistic and believable. The audience can empathize with all the characters. The world is not black and white, but Grey. The truth of world is subjective and not objective. Or in other words, the Truth needs to be contextualized for it to be realistic, believable and even relevant.

The movie is not a happy ending (as one is often used to in Hindi cinema). In fact the movie is strong enough to generate a need of a happy ending in the audience. And that is why it has the potential to leave the audience with a feeling being incomplete or unfinished (something which is still not over). One would leave the cinema hall with a need of a sequel-Udaan II. One might even start imagining and cooking the sequel of the film. And most likely, all the imaginations of the sequel would have the family being re-united. Untill then there seems no end. Untill then one wants no end. The beauty of the movie is that one still doesn’t hate Bhairon Singh and wishes for him to reunite with Rohan and his brother.

The word Udaan signifies freedom. It is about freedom after much effort. The bird flies after weeks of practice and millions of wing flapping. The last run of Rohan, where he finally manages to out run his dad signifies this Udaan. And its probably this, which gives him the final confidence of taking the leap into the world on his own (and the confidence to be able to ‘make future’ of his younger brother). The last run, is probably the most significant part of the movie and best describes its title Udaan.

Udaan- The movie

Kahaani khatm hai, yaa shuruaat hone ko hai

Subah hai yeh, yaa raat hone ko hai

The two lines struck some chord the first time i listened to them. Standing at the door of MMTS, looking in the dark outside with cold wet breeze on the face, I listened to the song. I was happy that the mp3 player was working again. And also about the decision to download the songs before starting for Adilabad. For most of the night in the train, I was enjoying the songs with the rains. This was the first tryst with the latest movie Udaan. The songs- music and the lyrics were strong enough to move me. The above two lines, were just too good (probably they came at the right time in my life). Im now able to appreciate the lyrics and Im now not afraid of listening to new songs.

And then I saw the movie. It was incredible. It has probably broken the last of the shackles of morality which im now too tired to carry. Sometimes its important to for some time keep aside morality. I feel its the right time now. I need to keep it aside, breathe freely, regain some strength and wait for the right time. Inshaah Allah!

Morality is important for saamajikta, but at times it can hamper one's journey of learnings. Or to put it in better words, half baked notion of morality can become a hurdle. And so in the hope to understand morality better, in hope that the journey would continue, I decide to give it some rest for the time being.

Aazaadiyaan!!

Beautiful song

आखों के परदे पर, प्यारा सा था जो नज़ारा
धुँआ सा बन कर, उड़ गया अब न रहा
बैठे थे हम तो ख्वाबो की छाओं के तले,
छोड़ कर उनको जहा कहा को चले|

कहानी ख़त्म है या शुरुआत होने को है
सुबह नयी है यह या फिर रात होने को है
कहानी ख़त्म है या शुरुआत होने को है
सुबह नयी है यह या फिर रात होने को है

आने वाले वक़्त देगा पनाहे
या फिर से मिलेंगे दो राहे
खबर क्या
क्या पता

Tryst with different kinds of Beggars

One thing you see in Indian cities prominently are beggars. Ive been vitnessing them, sometimes even confronting them and sometimes even sharing the same space with them now for over 20 years. But not untill recently i was forced to change my perspective towards them and see them in altogether different way. It now looks more like a professional industry and a beggar looks like any of the other office going person in morning. Of late i've met very interesting kinds of beggars.

As a kid i was told by elders in the family, that beggars are someone who choose not to work and think they can manage a living just like that. That perception has now been broken. Im not saying that beggars are people who want to but cannot work (due to various reasons), but im saying they work. And the work being the profession of begging. Yes, im daring to call it a profession. And now that ive started looking at it as a profession i remember to have met some very interesting professional beggars.

1. Tourist Beggars: During my stay in SIDH, near Mussoorie i realized that the beggars here are seasonal beggars. They come to Mussoorie during the summer months just like the tourists. And once the tourist season is over, they return to where ever they come from. For them its not only a means to escape the heat waves of the plains but also to earn some money. They move in families.

2. The lost lady in Agra: When studying in Agra, i met this lady at the Agra bus stand. She was well dressed and looked educated. While i stood waiting for the bus to arrive, she quietly approached me. She said that she is from Mathura, and somehow lost her money. And so needs some money to buy a bus ticket I knew she was lying, somehow the innovatiness forced me to give into her story. I dont remember how much i gave, but it surely was much more than i would give it to a conventional beggar. The best part is, i bumped into the same lady again at the same place after one month. She again approached me and told the same story. This time i had to say no. I told her that i had met you at the same place a month ago. She hurriedly left the place. That day she must have learnt a lesson that she needs to constantly change places or work.

3. Another lost lady in Delhi: it was the same story this time in Delhi. This rural Haryana lady this time approached me while i was standing outside AIIMS bus stop. She showed me a medical card with something scribbled on it. She even asked me to touch her hand to see for myself that she is running high fever. I didnt do it, but i again gave into the story. This time it was the nature of script and choice of words which was very powerful (and maybe also my liking of the Haryanavi language). Back then, it was my first job. I was working in this Hindi news channel and the notion of short, crisp but powerful scripts was part of my job. I was learning on how to make a News item (usually 30 to 90 seconds long) more interesting by use of words. The script was the most powerful component of the News item. And so this lady's powerful script, her choice of words was what made me give her the money. I knew she was lying, but i wanted to actually believe that she was genuinely lost in Delhi and that my money would have helped her reach home.

4. This time a couple in Hyderabad: The idea of being lost away from home is fast catching up. This time it was a similar encounter in Hyderabad. As i walked to IIIT, i saw this couple with a small child standing besides the road. The man wore a dhoti kurta and Gandhi cap, while the woman wore a red saree. The style of tying a saree (locally called 'Kaashte ki saree') said they were a Marathi couple. The man was carrying a small baby in his arms. As i came near them, they spoke the first line of the script. I dont remember exactly what it was, but it meant “do you understand Hindi or Marathi, please”. Just one line was powerful enough to stop a stranger who knows either of the language. Short and crisp. I knew for sure that it was not a genuine case of a couple being lost in a city where they dont even know the language. But the opening line and the costume they wore was powerful enough to give me ten rupees to them. I chose not to get into a conversation with them. Somehow i knew the whole script would be very powerful. It would be powerful enough to make me give more money or make me feel horrible for not giving. And so i quietly went to the lady and pressed a ten rupee note into her rough, wrinkled palm. I didnt even dare to look into her eyes. The script, the costume and then the acting (expressions in her eyes) would have been too much. If Shahrukh Khan can read this, the couple were great actors.

5. The singer who moved people: His was the most meldious voice i have listened in my life. He was a blind man, singing an old hindi film song “Tu ek paisa dega, woh dus lakh dega”. His voice, the rythm and the way he sang it made the whole experience very moving. And it wasnt only me, other people in the train were also moved by it. And the best part is, this man knew perfectly well how talented he was. He had the confidence that he could move people's heart. And therefore he would move very slowly. He would stand at the same place for quite a long time, singing and waiting. And people would sooner or later give up their pretention and take out some coins from their pockets. By the time this man, approached my column, we all were already ready with a coin in our hands. We all loved listening to him, because when he left, we quietly smiled at each other, as if saying the same thing to each other “what a singer”. I remember, when i put the coin in his small, wrinkled palm half cover with a dirty white kurta, i pressed his palm (thankyou, dont go).

6. The one with Hindi songs in Kerala: This beggar was probably the most interesting i've come across and also the most confident. I was traveling in Kerala in Netravati express (coming from Goa, going to Thrissur). And all of a sudden i hear a beggar singing another of those old hindi songs. At first it all looked normal. The song looked familiar (used my many baggars), the voice was melodious too and there was rythm too. But then all of a sudden it struck me. It was Kerala, a Malayam speaking state, very very far from the Hindi speaking states, and this man chose to sing Hindi songs. Will people even understand the meaning of the song? Why is he not singing some Malayali song? Will that not be more effective? But all logics defied, this man was doing decent business. I dont know if people understood Hindi or not, but they were giving him money. Probably for the same reason, why i gave him. The idea and courage to sing Hindi songs for begging in Kerala.

7. The English speaking beggar: This was most recent and probably the most hilarious of the lot. A beggar, asking in English. “Dear Sir, just one rupee please” he would smile and say. He did not give the look of someone who is in desperateness, but rather someone who enjoys his work. Or rather more accurately, he had that look in his eyes enjoying to see the amazement in people's eyes. Everyone was just amazed to see an English speaking beggar. And this was not the only line he could say. He could speak other English sentences too. “looking for change in the pocket, madam” or “child give way to pass” were other sentences i heard. This was too tempting for me to resist. I had to, had to give him. We both smiled at each other as if saying, “nice work man”.” thank you”. When he left, a fellow passanger joking said “Angrez chale gaye, ise chhod gaye peeche” and we all laughed.

The two couples

It was a night of two couples and us.

Suman and I were returning from a film screening from the Goethe-Zenthrum, a German institute in Hyderabad. A documentry called “I want my father back”, had been screened there. It was on the issue of farmer suicides, focussing mainly on the Vidarbha region of Maharashtra. Govt. Estimates more than 2 lakh farmers have committed suicides in the last decade in the country. It is something which has been never witnessed in the 10000 years history of this land. Vandana shiva, in the film refused to call them suicides. She instead chose the word genocide. The film indeed was moving, specially for both of us. It again made us feel restless, feel a sense of hurry and maybe also a sense of guilt. On our way back we again (like so many times earlier), discussed what possible things we can do which would connect us directly to the land, to the ordinary people and also ensure our livelihood.

It was 9.30 while we were still in the bus. The mess would have closed by now, and so we decided to get down at Indra Nagar for dinner. We had Poori and Uttappa at the Udipi eating place there. The food was good. After that we thought of having filter coffee at this chai wala outside the shop. Two young boys served some 10 varieties of tea and coffee. People loved it. Almost everyone after dinner at Udipi stops for tea/coffee at this stall. We were among them. I ordered filter coffee, while Suman went for tea. It was there we saw our first couple. They had come there for tea like others, but they were different from all of us. And that is what caught our first attention.

The man wore a dhoti and a worn out kurta, while the woman had a green saree on her. The man must have been in her fifties, thin and tall with grey hair. The woman was half her height. She had a biggish bindi on her forehead. Around her neck hanged a mobile phone. They had come there for chai. I loved watching them. To imagine a rural, illiterate couple come out for a chai made me smile. I was just attracted to them. Quietly, hiding behind Suman's shoulder i observed them (as if watching a celebrity couple). There wasn't much talk between them. They enjoyed their tea quietly. We finished ours, paid the chai wala and left the place.

We decided to walk to IIIT, not far now. The weather was pleasant, like it is suppose to be in summers in Hyderabad. The hot day, had given way to a pleasant night. A cool breeze was playing with the trees, watched by the half glowing moon. The traffic had reduced on the road, and so the walk back was peaceful. We talked about this couple, we had left behind. We talked about the farmers again. We talked about our plans (yet again). The couple reminded us of the farmers we had seen in the film. What made them migrate to the city? What work do they do here? Where are the children? Where are the parents, the cousins, the relatives, the neighbours, the fields, the water stream or the well, the rains, the harvest, the festivals, the celerations. I guess all that had been left behind.

As we were approaching the IIIT main gate, we saw yet another couple there. A dhoti-kurta clad man, with a baby in his hand and a saree clad woman were standing outside the SBH atm. They looked marathi to me, by the way the woman had wrapped around the saree. We knew what to expect from them. We knew as we would come closer this man would ask if we know hindi or marathi (as if saying they are lost in an unknown land, struggling with unknown language). We knew if we stop to listen to him, he would start up with some sad story of his life and then ask for some money. They weren't first such couple we had encountered.

And so while we were walking towards them, we wondered what to do. We wondered how to avoid them, what to say, what not to say. To avoid the inconvinience we thoughts its best to avoid a conversation with them. And so we detoured our path. Went round them, keeping a safe distance to pretend not hearing him (as if we would have helped had we heard you) and entered the gate. But all this had made us extremely uncomfortable. We knew that it wasnt a genuine case, but only another creative method of begging. But what if it was a case of a lost family? We repeatedly told ourselves, that it was not a genuine case, but the question of “what if” would not go. And so we stopped. Suman said "lets give them 10 rupees", not to help them, but to help ourselves sleep in the night. I put my hand in the pocket, and a 10 rupee note came out. I turned back and walked towards them. Inside i thought i would go straight to the lady, hand over the note and turn back. I would not get involved in any conversation with them. Didnt want to give them a chance to start with their story (of being lost in the city), which i knew was not true. As i walked to them, i saw they had managed to stop a young man. I saw the man stop, listen and then without saying a word, walk away from them. Just as he walked away from them, i walked towards them. The lady first saw me. I walked towards her showing 10 rupees in my hand. She stretched out her hand, and i kept it on her open palm. She then closed her fist, crushing the note in her hand. All this may not have taken more than a second. It was good enough for me to capture the picture of her wrinkled hand in my mind. It is still very vivid. The hand said it all. I turned back, and walked away. Suman looked at me and i looked at him. And we walked inside the campus.

So what was the story of the couple i wondered? No, not the one they would have told us asking for help. But the real story. Who were they? Were they farmers who were forced to leave behind everything? Were they farmers who still had the courage to fight and not end their lives, who still had some hope left. What was the story of the couple we met at the chai shop?

Trip to Pingoli with Kanwarjeet

Kanwarjeet and I met in Pune last week, where we also spent 2 days with Shruti. Shruti told us then about some village near Kudal town in south Maharashtra, where somebody still makes Pata-chitra (or paitings of stories which are then sung). Kanwarjeet had also heard a similar thing long time back about a man in village Pingoli near Kudal. He thought maybe it’s the same place. And so when I met him again in Goa, we decided to visit this person in Pingoli village. Kudal is about 80km from Panjim.

We left home early at 6.30am with a cup of tea and one rusk. It was raining cats and dogs that time. We had to take a local private bus to a town Mapusa, from where we would get some inter-state government bus for Kudal. The short distance private buses in Goa are called rockets, but one cannot see a slower bus than them. Anyways we got one, which dropped us at Kudal bus station. Soon afterwards we got a Kadamba bus (Goa state transport bus) which was heading for Pune. It was pass through Kudal. These are fairly comfortable buses, with ordinary fair and just one door which is at the back. This bus had two drivers, one sleeping and the other driving the bus. One driver would drive till Kohlapur, and then the other would take over till Pune.

Bus rides in this region specially in this season is amazingly beautiful. There is so much of greenery, its almost like a highway going right through a thick forest. There is rain everywhere, lakes and ponds along roads, paddy fields full of water and palm trees, and hundreds of seasonal waterfalls falling along side the road. We crossed two rivers on way to Kudal, both almost touching the bridge from underneath. Kanwarjeet said, its highly likely we may not be able to return as the water may cross the bridge by afternoon. It was exciting for me to imagine that.

Its so much fun to travel with Kanwarjeet as he has millions of stories to share. And like me, almost all of them are his own personal experiences. And just like me he enjoys to tell these stories and even repeat them with same enthusiasm again and again. I do the same, often being pointed out by friends that I’ve already told them this story. And I would always think so what, hear it again. So when KJ would do the same, I would make sure to listen to it again with the same enthusiasm and not stop him in between.

We reached Kudal bus station at 9am. As both were hungry, we went to a small tea shop next to the station, had warm tea with vada paav, chhole bhaji and poha. Yummy and only yummy it was. Warm tea on a rainy day is even more better. Pingoli village is 4km from Kudal bus station, and so we decided to walk our way in the rain. It was so much fun to walk through puddles of water, protecting oneself from the water coming from underneath due to passing vehicles and not worrying about water falling from the sky. And walking gave us more opportunity to talk and laugh. We reached Pingoli after a 20min walk, only to be told that we have come to wrong place. We were looking for Thakar Adivasi Kalaa Aangan, which actually was on the Kudal Panjim highway and not in the village Pingoli. And so we had to go back again to Kudal and then another 2km on the highway to the Kalaa Aangan. This time we took an auto back, which was run by an old muslim uncle.

It was pouring heavily when we reached Kalaa Aangan. We had already called up shri Parshruram Gangawane about our arrival, the man we wanted to meet. He was there waiting for us. Parshruam ji is from a tribal community called Thakars, who main profession was to entertain the people. For this they had 11 different types of art forms. They would have puppet shows, shadow puppet shows made from leather, pata-chitras or paintings depicting all the scenes of Ramayana and Mahabharata, magic shows like hitting oneself with burning hunters and not being burnt, then various songs about Devi Bhawani etc. Theirs was a very well organized community which for most of the year traveled (except the 4 months of monsoon) from village to village entertaining the people. In return they would receive so much, that it would be impossible for them to carry all that. And so they would either exchange the access with currency coins (copper coins with hole in them) or just dump the access in the village and move on. The whole calculations actually showed me that they lived with a sense of prosperity. It again questions our conditioning where we would believe a nomadic life is basically a symbol of depriviation. The Thakars wore minimal clothes. The men wrapped around a cloth like a langote, while the women in addition to this wrapped another cloth on top to cover the breasts. The minimal clothes on body was not a sign of deprivation but of the climate in this region. It being a hot and humid all round year, people here traditionally wear just enough to cover the essential body parts.

Interestingly, as we talked more with Parshruram ji, we realized Thakars were not mere entertainers, but played a more significant role in the lives of villagers. He called him the ‘Prabodhakas’ or people who give Prabodhan. Thakars gave lessons on values, on a sense of right and wrong, on morals, on way of living, on life to the villagers. If one understands this correctly, one realizes it’s a community which is highly respected and revered by other communities (and not outcastes or untouchables). The village Panchayat when unable to resolve a dispute, would take assistance of Thakars to help resolve.

The Thakars also served as spies for the king. Since they traveled extensively, they had a general sense of pulse of the people, boiling issues and even conspiracies. So the whole community in a way was like a huge, vastly spread system of spies for the king. Imagine a spy who also gives lessons on values and morals, and also entertain people by telling stories of Ramayana and Mahabharata, helps resolve unsolvable disputes, and also carries herbs and shrubs as cure for many ailments. Such a community is ought to be valued in a society and cannot be treated as out caste or second level.

All this raised a fundamental question in my head. When I travel and talk to people like Parshruram ji, I get a different picture of the society (a rich, dynamic, healthy society). While when others travel and interact with the same people, they get a completely different picture (of exploitation, rape, untouchability, starvation etc). How is this possible? Do we talk to different people? Or do we talk about different times? Or do we ask different questions? Ravindra Sharma once warned me. He said if you ask them what are your problems, they will tell you about your problems. If you ask them what are your strengths, your knowledge systems etc then they will tell you about that. And so it actually depends on what questions we ask people, and the way we present ourselves to them. I think it’s important for me to go to them as no expert, as no problem solver, as not the one with solution, but go to them as a student and just live with them and observe. Im sure there will be so much for me to learn. Im here not discounting the efforts of all those people who have gone to the field with an intention to help. I in fact have great admiration for them and their courage. But im only trying to make a point that im seeing a completely different image of India than what ive read in books or have been told. I must also say, that everytime im doing an honesty check with in just to ensure im in the student frame of mind and nothing else. Ive just started a journey, and there is so much more to come my way.

Anyways, the most interesting thing that struck me and KJ was towards the end. When we visited a small museum maintained by Parshruramji, a small board outside read ‘Entry fee Rs. 20 (Rs.50 for foreigners). Photography allowed with special permission on payment of Rs. 50’. Parshruramji had maintained a small museum of various art forms of his community, which many people came to visit. He told us, that earlier the artists got so much that it was a problem to carry all that. Later post independence artists were being treated as beggars. And so now to survive he has put this fee in front of this museum. This was very interesting for KJ and me. The height prosperity was when they got without asking. Then the depreciated phase was when they had to ask people and therefore were treated as beggars. And now the even more depreciated phase is when they have put a price tag on themselves and their arts. I believe this state is worse than begging.

I remember this time during Pune visit, when I stayed over at chi’s place with Charzal and Appu also being present, Chi felt that she doesn’t know the art of selling herself when going for a job interview. In normal terms to sell oneself is actually a symbol of extreme depreciated state of living, but in today’s times it has become an ‘art’ to sell oneself at the best possible prices in job interviews. Appu tried to tell Chi that now she need not sell herself, where as Charzal was giving her tips on how best to sell herself when facing an interview.

I always thought Charzal was one fearless guy I had never seen before. He came all the way from Manipur to study Engg in Agra, not knowing the language, having no contacts at all. Yet he took no time to settle down there, make plenty of contacts, adjust to the new environment and finally pass out with an Engg degree in IT. He then struggled in Pune for 2 years to get a job, when everyone else of his batch got into one. Yet I never saw him worried or scared. He always lived like a free man with a confidence to survive no matter what happens. But this time when I met him, for the first time I saw him scared. Like everyone he was scared of being layed off due to recession, or not get an increment etc. This was shocking for me. His job, his salary, his performance in the company, the money he was now earning, his lifestyle, all that had actually made him weak from inside. I understand for urban grown people like us to feel scared of being layed off, but when people like Charzal or even Amit Tomar start feeling scared it really worries me. They are people who are well grounded, who have the skills other than push buttons on keyboard.

Anyways, our meeting with Pashruramji concluded by 1pm. We came out to the highway and decided to stop the bus there itself instead of going all the way back to Kudal bus stand. It was pouring. A Maharashtra state bus came, stopped, but it was so fully we could not get onto it. The bus went. More rain. More wind. KJ and I were talking about the state of community and the wrong vision of government since independence. And in between there were so many stories to share. Just then, don’t know what happened a truck passed by and I waved to it. It stopped. I ran towards it. KJ said are you sure. Yes of course, I’ve traveled for 5 years in truck in college. “Bhau Sawantwadi”? “Ho”. And we climbed onto it, keeping one foot on the foot stand and other onto to the cleaners coach. It was familiar for me to sit in there. Reminded me of time in Agra. We reached Sawantwadi bus stand in 30 min, which was 14km from Kudal. We were hungry, and so again looked for a smallish tea stall. Had pooris bhaji and hot tea. At the Sawantwadi bus stand KJ met an old friend Neelu who stays in Sawantwadi. She was typical Marathi lady coming from somewhere. And then came our bus to Panaji. It was a Maharashtra state bus coming from Dasgaon, going to Panaji. We got the last seat right in the end. As we traveled back, we noticed this time the water had almost over taken the bridge. It was scary at the first sight. Another 30 min and we reached home. It was 4pm till then. Yashodara was worried that Anant still hadn’t return from school. KJ said not to worry as he must be playing in some puddle of water. And he was right. The little fellow loves to jump in puddles and get drenched in the rain.

Later in the night during dinner, we told Yasho about our experience. She would connect to her own previous interactions with tribals in Kashalay, a place near Karjat near Mumbai. KJ and Yasho had lived for 5 years in Kashalay with the tribals. At that time they did not understood many of their things. But now, both Yasho and KJ were able to relate to many of those things. We all were very excited, and the dinner went on and on never to be finished. Anant was excited too seeing us excited. A happy family, and I was happy to be part of it for whatever little time.