I took a visit to Haritha ecological centre with mom. Haritha is a society started by Sudhakar uncle (my mom's colleague in IIT-D). Haritha takes the responsibility of providing education to the tribal children in that area. It is located at a village called Paloancha, near the town of Bhadrachalam in Khammam district of southern state of Andhrapradesh. It was my first trip into rural southern India, and I was excited to move away from the civilization into the real civilized society.
Haritha is at its top has three people. Sudhakar ji, who is a proffessor in IIT-D, his wife Usha aunty, a retired bank employee now fulltime at haritha and swamy ji. I don't know the name of swamy ji, but like everyone I addressed him like that. He is another of those people whom I thought I had met earlier somewhere. He happened to do his graduation from a gurukul in Hissar, in the northern state of Haryana, and knew Acharya Devrat. Acharya Devrat was a good friend of my father, and so I assumed I met swamy ji sometime through him. His face looked very familiar to me. Then there are local teachers and kids who together run the school. Sudhakar ji was a permanent faculty in department of CARE (center for applied research in electronics), when about 10 years ago he quit his job and started Haritha with Usha aunty. I'm not sure at what stage swamy ji joined them. The fact that an IIT prof had the courage to quit and start something like this, has forced me to give another chance to these IITians. I simply love him for his effort. A couple of years back he re-joined IIT to work with mom in bamboo technology. Over the period he developed some technology with bamboo, which would prove to be an alternative for the concrete structures. Our visit to Haritha was to see his work on bamboo. Along with us, were Sivanandan Uncle and his wife Sulochana aunty, who own a non-profit organisation in Kerela and our interested in the bamboo technology. They see with it a scope of not only having more eco-friendly houses but also empowering the tribal community. Of course they have also been our family friend, and so it was great to see them again after sometime. With them were Jaisingh ji, who has retired from CBRI (central building research institute), Roorkie. I reminded Jaisingh ji that this was our second meeting. The first time I met him when we (Sivanandan uncle, Sulochana aunty and me) visited their place in Roorkie on our return from Badrinath. With them was also one George, who happened to be a mechanical engineer cum farmer cum owner of construction company cum working with a non-profit organisation. Then there was Srinivas ji, the local contact along with Sudhakar ji. He was the representative from the Andhra government. There was Suprotic Gupta, a civil engg faculty from IIT-D, who was here to see the strength of the bamboo structures. And lastly there was Sapna, a student of M.tech in civil engg from IIT-Roorkie and also a close friend.
So all of us took this trip from Hyderabad. We not only explored the structures at Haritha, but also went to a village Chatti, deep in the forests on the border of Andhra and Chattisgarh. This was a tribal village, deep in the naxal territory. To my happiness, we were deep in the jungles, where the roads were as good as they can get. The traffic on them was minimal. People still walked barefoot. And we saw real bow and arrows. The bow and its string we both made from bamboo. There were two kinds of arrows. One with a metal sharp head. This one is used for hunting, primarily wild boars. The other had a blunt wooden head. It was used to pluck fruits from tree tops. A local tribal also showed us the use of it.
At village Chatti, we met Chandrasekharan ji, who had offered a part of his land for the growth of desired bamboos for the project. He had only one concern with the entire thing. He hoped, that when bamboo technology would be recognised by the country, its benefit should reach to the common man. He hoped this project would not meet the fate of all those solar energy projects. Research on solar enegry was done in the name of providing electricity to the remotest corner of the country, but in practicality now its only used in the fancy drawing rooms of the rich or in lobbies of five star hotels. The poor are nowhere near it. He hoped, the bamboo he will grow in his fields will not end as some artifact in some showroom, but would be used as real beams in real structures inhabited by common people. Sudhakar ji tried to answer his question to the best of his capability, but I'm not sure if he was convinced. We all knew, that despite Sudhakar uncle's assurance, and Srinivas ji's plan we stand no chance if the government or some corporate decides to hijack this technology. Something similar happened a decade ago to the work my mom was doing on organic farming. The fertilizer industry simply hijacked the project, and as a result her research was limited to test fields and never reached the actual farmers.
Mom,Sapna and I returned back to Hyderabad while the rest continued their trip to Vijaywada where there were some more structures. Our stay at Haritha was like visiting my village. The concept of eating with hand, eating on pattals (plates made of leaves), all that brought sweet memories. Sudhakar ji gave an open invitation for us to visit Haritha again. I would want to go back again soon.
In a conversation with Swamyji the concept of Satvik and Tamsik also became clear. I had an idea of them earlier, but Swamiji's explanation gave new clarity. In hope to meet him again and learn many more things.
Friday, December 28, 2007
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
The need to talk......it's not about money this time!
It happened to me again. It happened just now, a few minutes ago. I had gone to Indranagar market to recharge the currency in my phone. Since it's not too far I decided to walk. On my way back, a man standing on the road asked me if I could give him two minutes. I said sure. I knew what to expect. This man will tell some sad story about his life and in return ask for some monetary help. Such instances has happened to me before, where each time I've ended up giving some money. As my friend Tincy says, I have a public service board hanging on me. This would have been fourth such occasion with me, I thought.
As I stood there, this man started talking. For a change, this time the conversation was in english. He was quite fluent and grammatically correct in his english. He told me, he belongs to Orissa, and has been in Hyderabad for over a month now. He is working as a security guard here (pointing towards a gate in the background). He is still awaiting his first salary. While he was narrating all this, I was waiting for the moment when he would ask for money. In my mind I was preparing myself for that moment. What will I say when he would finally ask? How will I turn him down? Or should I give him money, like always? I only have a hundred rupee note in my pocket. I was suppose to go to bank today, but didn't go. If I give him this 100 rupee note, then I'll have to ask for money from Piyush or Shivangi. And if I tell them what happened, they for sure would kill me. They already hate me for giving money to Manoj at Nagpur station, or for not bargaining with the autowallas. Oh, god why did I choose to walk today. I should have taken the bus. Why did I stop? I'm such a fool.
While all this went in my head, the man continued with his story. He still hadn't asked for money.He said, he is literate and knowledgeable, and is quite frustrated with the job he is doing. He said, he has not spoken to anyone for days. His job is only to sit at the gate, open and close it each time his boss' car comes. And finally he asked.He asked, what advice I have for a person like him. "The only weapon I have is knowledge. Can I not use it to earn some money?". " Please sir, I'm not asking for money, I'm only asking for advice." I said, "maybe you should look for some other job". Like what, he asked. Hmm, a driver maybe. "Sir, I do not know driving. Is there nothing else I could do in your city?" "ah, this is not my city. I'm also a stranger here like you. I'm from Delhi."
I asked him what he used to do in Orissa. He was a salesman for 15 years, but things went bad and he lost his job. His wife doesn't want to live with him anymore. She insists on him earning some money. This job of security guard only pays enough for him to survive and not save. More over it was a very dull, no-activity job. This man was really frustrated.
I advised him. I told him to look for a job at some shopping center. After all he has 15 years of sales experience. More over a shopkeeper would love to have a sales boy who could speak good english. Such a man, would definetly attract customers. And his english was good. As good as mine.
He thanked me for my advice and my time. He asked, "do you think I'm mad? Do you think I need psychiatrist help?" I said no. I said you are like me. "I can understand what is going in your mind." He said, sometimes I feel I'm getting mad here. I understand. Sometimes you think so much, that you actually want to stop thinking. And you wonder if you are not getting mad. It happens with me so many times.
I told him, I think you should go back to your place. There atleast you will have your own people, own language, own food. He again thanked me. He did a namaste. I did a namaste. And I walked.
It wasn't about money after all. It was probably about an idea. Or maybe it was about a simple need of conversation. It must be really tough to not speak for days, I wonder.
I'm glad a chose to walk. All such things happen to you if you move at a slow speed. These things happen to you, when you have time with you. It is when you observe things around you. It is when you stop and respond to your surrounding.
As I stood there, this man started talking. For a change, this time the conversation was in english. He was quite fluent and grammatically correct in his english. He told me, he belongs to Orissa, and has been in Hyderabad for over a month now. He is working as a security guard here (pointing towards a gate in the background). He is still awaiting his first salary. While he was narrating all this, I was waiting for the moment when he would ask for money. In my mind I was preparing myself for that moment. What will I say when he would finally ask? How will I turn him down? Or should I give him money, like always? I only have a hundred rupee note in my pocket. I was suppose to go to bank today, but didn't go. If I give him this 100 rupee note, then I'll have to ask for money from Piyush or Shivangi. And if I tell them what happened, they for sure would kill me. They already hate me for giving money to Manoj at Nagpur station, or for not bargaining with the autowallas. Oh, god why did I choose to walk today. I should have taken the bus. Why did I stop? I'm such a fool.
While all this went in my head, the man continued with his story. He still hadn't asked for money.He said, he is literate and knowledgeable, and is quite frustrated with the job he is doing. He said, he has not spoken to anyone for days. His job is only to sit at the gate, open and close it each time his boss' car comes. And finally he asked.He asked, what advice I have for a person like him. "The only weapon I have is knowledge. Can I not use it to earn some money?". " Please sir, I'm not asking for money, I'm only asking for advice." I said, "maybe you should look for some other job". Like what, he asked. Hmm, a driver maybe. "Sir, I do not know driving. Is there nothing else I could do in your city?" "ah, this is not my city. I'm also a stranger here like you. I'm from Delhi."
I asked him what he used to do in Orissa. He was a salesman for 15 years, but things went bad and he lost his job. His wife doesn't want to live with him anymore. She insists on him earning some money. This job of security guard only pays enough for him to survive and not save. More over it was a very dull, no-activity job. This man was really frustrated.
I advised him. I told him to look for a job at some shopping center. After all he has 15 years of sales experience. More over a shopkeeper would love to have a sales boy who could speak good english. Such a man, would definetly attract customers. And his english was good. As good as mine.
He thanked me for my advice and my time. He asked, "do you think I'm mad? Do you think I need psychiatrist help?" I said no. I said you are like me. "I can understand what is going in your mind." He said, sometimes I feel I'm getting mad here. I understand. Sometimes you think so much, that you actually want to stop thinking. And you wonder if you are not getting mad. It happens with me so many times.
I told him, I think you should go back to your place. There atleast you will have your own people, own language, own food. He again thanked me. He did a namaste. I did a namaste. And I walked.
It wasn't about money after all. It was probably about an idea. Or maybe it was about a simple need of conversation. It must be really tough to not speak for days, I wonder.
I'm glad a chose to walk. All such things happen to you if you move at a slow speed. These things happen to you, when you have time with you. It is when you observe things around you. It is when you stop and respond to your surrounding.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
The dangerous new trend
Since the last few months, i'm observing a dangerous trend in Indian society, which I believe is not something natural but man made. I'm talking about the protest over protests. When some people would take to streets to protest against some unjustifiable government policy, then they are not to be met by police barricades. The state machinery will not oppose them. Instead they will meet another set of people who fall on the greener side of the policies. And so what one would witness is two groups of people fighting on the street, while the state looking the other way. In the end of course the state can prove that their policy is for the people, and thats the reason people took to streets to protest over the protest.
Such a thing started over the Narmada dam issue, when people took to violence in state of Gujarat against the tribals of Madhyapradesh who were opposing the dam. The tribals were losing everything they had (land,homes,cattles etc), while people in Gujarat would get less of electricity.
Then more lately in Nandigram in the state of bengal, we saw people fighting people. There was one group which opposed the SEZ project, while the other which opposed the opposition of SEZ (and hence maybe was in favor of that project). It made a perfect case for the state to defend their policy on the issue. Then what happened in Guwahati was shocking. The locals in the town attacked a procession taken out by tribals demanding schedule tribe status. It is hard for me to believe that a shopkeeper would leave his shop and go about attacking others.
And lastly a similar thing happened in Orissa. Some people attacked (with bombs and guns), people opposing another SEZ project.
It becomes very hard for me to imagine that those who attacked tribals on the street of Guwahati, or those in Orissa or in Nandigram were common people like you and me. I feel, somewhere they were payed group to attack and threaten those who oppose the state, while in the media the picture is given of people fighting.
So, the next time I take to street to protest over the government taking over the next door park to convert it into a multiplex, I should not expect to meet the police force. I should expect other people who are in favor of such a project. Common people like me. I'm scared of such a thought.
It seems we are moving towards south america of 70s. It becomes so much convenient for the state to divide us further. This time not on religious lines but on developmental issues. So there are two kinds of people, one who are pro-development, while others who are anti-development. And of course its the state who defines the meaning of the word de-ve-lop-ment.
Meanwhile in all the news channel the debate is on whether will it be OSO or Saanwariya or who will captain India in the tests. We need to escape what Swami Vivekananda once described as the propensity of the Indian elite to discuss for hours whether a glass of water ought to be taken with the left hand or the right hand.
Such a thing started over the Narmada dam issue, when people took to violence in state of Gujarat against the tribals of Madhyapradesh who were opposing the dam. The tribals were losing everything they had (land,homes,cattles etc), while people in Gujarat would get less of electricity.
Then more lately in Nandigram in the state of bengal, we saw people fighting people. There was one group which opposed the SEZ project, while the other which opposed the opposition of SEZ (and hence maybe was in favor of that project). It made a perfect case for the state to defend their policy on the issue. Then what happened in Guwahati was shocking. The locals in the town attacked a procession taken out by tribals demanding schedule tribe status. It is hard for me to believe that a shopkeeper would leave his shop and go about attacking others.
And lastly a similar thing happened in Orissa. Some people attacked (with bombs and guns), people opposing another SEZ project.
It becomes very hard for me to imagine that those who attacked tribals on the street of Guwahati, or those in Orissa or in Nandigram were common people like you and me. I feel, somewhere they were payed group to attack and threaten those who oppose the state, while in the media the picture is given of people fighting.
So, the next time I take to street to protest over the government taking over the next door park to convert it into a multiplex, I should not expect to meet the police force. I should expect other people who are in favor of such a project. Common people like me. I'm scared of such a thought.
It seems we are moving towards south america of 70s. It becomes so much convenient for the state to divide us further. This time not on religious lines but on developmental issues. So there are two kinds of people, one who are pro-development, while others who are anti-development. And of course its the state who defines the meaning of the word de-ve-lop-ment.
Meanwhile in all the news channel the debate is on whether will it be OSO or Saanwariya or who will captain India in the tests. We need to escape what Swami Vivekananda once described as the propensity of the Indian elite to discuss for hours whether a glass of water ought to be taken with the left hand or the right hand.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
....continuation of talk on love
After my last post on love, i had a discussion with a close friend Tincy. I shared with her my ideas of love. She came up with a beautiful poem which I thought i should share. The poem has no title.
Love to me is more than just 4 letter word
Love to me is more than a relationship dat one shares wid someone near
Love to me as pure as dew
Wat love means to me i guess known by very few
Love to me is a feelin beyond one can see or imagine
Love to me is like north and south poles of a magnet inseparable
Love to me is the joy that fills the farmer seeing his crop grow
Love to me is the first drops of rain after a hot day plough
Love to me is the happy joy of enjoying my day's first bony
Love to me is waiting like a kid for the last bell to go off..
Love to me is sweet taste of going home after a war for a soldier
Love to me as small and simple yet so complex in itself
Love to me is u me and we...
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Love is in the air
Love is in the air, is what one would believe by seeing the Indian movies. All movies are centered around people falling in love. I'm not complaining, but I'm sad at the fact that the word 'love' has been truncated into a very specific relation between a girl and a boy. Why can't movie makers see other forms of love, I always wondered? Then came Iqbal, a movie based on love of a boy towards a game. It was a refreshing change for Indian audience I feel. It was like a breath of fresh air. We now had a movie, which had a completely new relation of love. More refreshing was the fact that it also showed love between a male and a female in a new form, that of between a brother and sister. And it was very well shown too. Seeing Iqbal and his sister, I felt if this movie is about Iqbal's love for cricket or is it about brother sister relation.
Coming off the movies into the real life, people on the campus also seem to be falling in love. There is of course the 'usual' love of opposite sexes, but I can see other forms of it as well. One cricket team left their match unfinished to make way for the football team to use the ground. I too am in Love. I'm falling in love with the buses of Hyderabad. These buses have lady conductors, who manage the bus very well. There is also an unsaid, unwritten understanding between passengers, that the one who has a seat to himself will hold the bags of those who are standing. I was told by one such passenger to give my bag to someone who has a seat. I smiled and declined the offer, saying my bag was heavy, and it may not be too fair for someone to hold such a heavy bag.
So how is one form of love different from other?? Is it fair, to use the term 'love' for all such forms, or should love be restricted only to one form of relation? How do I know when I'm in love? These questions have troubled me for long time now and I still don't have a definitive answer. For me, I fall in love almost each day. And I've been doing that for some years now. And I feel happy after each time I'm in love. Recently I told a friend I fell in Love with a muslim guy in the train with whom I had a discussion on Islam. His first reaction was, are you gay?? That was probably the worst possible reply I sought, though expected.
Coming off the movies into the real life, people on the campus also seem to be falling in love. There is of course the 'usual' love of opposite sexes, but I can see other forms of it as well. One cricket team left their match unfinished to make way for the football team to use the ground. I too am in Love. I'm falling in love with the buses of Hyderabad. These buses have lady conductors, who manage the bus very well. There is also an unsaid, unwritten understanding between passengers, that the one who has a seat to himself will hold the bags of those who are standing. I was told by one such passenger to give my bag to someone who has a seat. I smiled and declined the offer, saying my bag was heavy, and it may not be too fair for someone to hold such a heavy bag.
So how is one form of love different from other?? Is it fair, to use the term 'love' for all such forms, or should love be restricted only to one form of relation? How do I know when I'm in love? These questions have troubled me for long time now and I still don't have a definitive answer. For me, I fall in love almost each day. And I've been doing that for some years now. And I feel happy after each time I'm in love. Recently I told a friend I fell in Love with a muslim guy in the train with whom I had a discussion on Islam. His first reaction was, are you gay?? That was probably the worst possible reply I sought, though expected.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
trip to home:part IV Discussion on Islam
On my way back, I had the train reservation from Delhi to Hyderabad. Mom and Mausi ji had come to see me off at the station, and this time I had an extra bag. A bag of food, which I was suppose to eat during the journey. Indian moms are very peculiar of not allowing their children go hungry, no matter how old have they become.
The train on way back was crowded too. People were returning after the diwali. In our column of 8 berths there was an RAC (reservation against cancellation, where one seat is shared by two passengers). And so, it meant there would be 9 people traveling, with 2 sharing one berth and rest seven having a berth to oneself. Soon we realized, that one passenger who had half a seat had 2 more friends traveling with him. So they were 3 people traveling on half a seat. Then there was another girl who had a waiting list, and was traveling along with her friend on her berth. So in all, in a column of 8 we had 12 people traveling. I could not again help and smile. Another fun trip, I thought. Of us 12 people, three were young muslims (traditionally dressed muslims). All three of them were crammed up in half the seat they had.
They were coming from a place called deoband near town of Muzzafarnagar in Western U.P.
Deoband is infamous for its pro Pakistan stance. It is rumored, that muslims there are very orthodox, and favor the Pakistani team in every cricket match. All this made me curious to start a conversation with these young men. I found it very difficult to interact with them. It was like they were not interested in any conversation. I could only know, that they actually belong to Gorakhpur and had been studying arabic in deoband. They were now headed for Hyderabad, for some advanced course. They also told me, after this they plan to apply for a job of interpretor in some gulf country. They also told me, that there is no concept of fee in the madrasa they studied. Madrasas around the country run on donations and charge nothing or minimal from its students.
The next day at noon our train reached Nagpur and I was woken up by one of the muslim guy. He told me it's Nagpur and if I wanted to buy something from the station. I smiled and said thank you. From Nagpur we were joined by 2 more muslim men. They didn't have a reservation, and maybe came to our column seeing the other muslims. So now we were 14 people traveling in a column of 8. Of the two, one was a young handsome, religious muslim, while the other was an elderly man (his father I thought). I offered my berth to them to sit and also keep their luggage. The next few hours were going to be very enriching for me. With this young muslim I had a discussion on teachings of Islam and through it I got my first insight on the religion. All through the discussion I was been very careful of not to digress from my motive of discussion. My motive was to understand what Islam preaches and not to prove anything. Although at times I did get into an argument mode, but was quick to get back into the listening mode. And as a result we had a great discussion. The following are a few points I earned out of it.
a) Islam starts with having an unquestionable, unshakable faith in god (referred to as allah). One can not question the existance of god. GOD IS THERE. AND THERE IS ONE GOD. why we cannot question god is answered in terms of limitations of a human being.
b) it's god which made man, for the purpose of praying. So purpose of life of every man is to submit himself totally to god and pray (ibadad karna).
c) Once in the path of god, there is always a danger of being misled by the demon (shaitan). For a normal man, it's not possible to know whether he is on the path of god or demon, as they may look the same. And so it becomes essential to a man to love and fear god at the same time (allah se muhabbat aur allah ka khauff).
d) the greatest vice which god gave to man was nafs (ambition, khwaish). if one follows ones ambition one is likely to digress from god's path. and so 100% devotion is required to god. Even 99% will not do. One is not suppose to one's head, but just submit oneself to god.
e) so what is the symptom of someone who is completely devoted to god? God loves, the one who is completely devoted to him. one who is loved by god, is loved by everyone. and so the most common symptom is love (muhabbat). he is loved by everyone, and he loves everyone.
f) how important is symbolism? how does it matter of what i wear, of how i choose to pray, if i keep a beard or not, if i'm on the path shown by god? All this is important for one so that they remind one constantly of god. normally people are not mentally strong enough to be 100% devoted all the time, and so these symbols act only as supportive system. for someone who is into god totally, these symbols are no issues.
g) most religious muslim youth are reserved to themselves, because they feel the outside world is getting polluted by modernism and so its important for them not to let themselves distracted.
h) muslim parents send their kids to madrasas not for jobs, but to make a good human out of them. A good human is one who loves everyone and is loved by everyone (muhabbat), who moves on the path of god.
In this sense somewhere our hindu parents have faltered I believe. Our parents are now more interested in making us successful in life, and the good human being has taken a back seat. Most important is to be successful, being a good human at the cost of success is considered foolish now.
In our entire conversation, this young boy was very careful in his choice of words. He never used the word allah, but only god. He stressed on muhabbat (love) time and again. It was one the best conversations i've had in life.
Hyderabad came at 9pm, and we shook hands before leaving.
The train on way back was crowded too. People were returning after the diwali. In our column of 8 berths there was an RAC (reservation against cancellation, where one seat is shared by two passengers). And so, it meant there would be 9 people traveling, with 2 sharing one berth and rest seven having a berth to oneself. Soon we realized, that one passenger who had half a seat had 2 more friends traveling with him. So they were 3 people traveling on half a seat. Then there was another girl who had a waiting list, and was traveling along with her friend on her berth. So in all, in a column of 8 we had 12 people traveling. I could not again help and smile. Another fun trip, I thought. Of us 12 people, three were young muslims (traditionally dressed muslims). All three of them were crammed up in half the seat they had.
They were coming from a place called deoband near town of Muzzafarnagar in Western U.P.
Deoband is infamous for its pro Pakistan stance. It is rumored, that muslims there are very orthodox, and favor the Pakistani team in every cricket match. All this made me curious to start a conversation with these young men. I found it very difficult to interact with them. It was like they were not interested in any conversation. I could only know, that they actually belong to Gorakhpur and had been studying arabic in deoband. They were now headed for Hyderabad, for some advanced course. They also told me, after this they plan to apply for a job of interpretor in some gulf country. They also told me, that there is no concept of fee in the madrasa they studied. Madrasas around the country run on donations and charge nothing or minimal from its students.
The next day at noon our train reached Nagpur and I was woken up by one of the muslim guy. He told me it's Nagpur and if I wanted to buy something from the station. I smiled and said thank you. From Nagpur we were joined by 2 more muslim men. They didn't have a reservation, and maybe came to our column seeing the other muslims. So now we were 14 people traveling in a column of 8. Of the two, one was a young handsome, religious muslim, while the other was an elderly man (his father I thought). I offered my berth to them to sit and also keep their luggage. The next few hours were going to be very enriching for me. With this young muslim I had a discussion on teachings of Islam and through it I got my first insight on the religion. All through the discussion I was been very careful of not to digress from my motive of discussion. My motive was to understand what Islam preaches and not to prove anything. Although at times I did get into an argument mode, but was quick to get back into the listening mode. And as a result we had a great discussion. The following are a few points I earned out of it.
a) Islam starts with having an unquestionable, unshakable faith in god (referred to as allah). One can not question the existance of god. GOD IS THERE. AND THERE IS ONE GOD. why we cannot question god is answered in terms of limitations of a human being.
b) it's god which made man, for the purpose of praying. So purpose of life of every man is to submit himself totally to god and pray (ibadad karna).
c) Once in the path of god, there is always a danger of being misled by the demon (shaitan). For a normal man, it's not possible to know whether he is on the path of god or demon, as they may look the same. And so it becomes essential to a man to love and fear god at the same time (allah se muhabbat aur allah ka khauff).
d) the greatest vice which god gave to man was nafs (ambition, khwaish). if one follows ones ambition one is likely to digress from god's path. and so 100% devotion is required to god. Even 99% will not do. One is not suppose to one's head, but just submit oneself to god.
e) so what is the symptom of someone who is completely devoted to god? God loves, the one who is completely devoted to him. one who is loved by god, is loved by everyone. and so the most common symptom is love (muhabbat). he is loved by everyone, and he loves everyone.
f) how important is symbolism? how does it matter of what i wear, of how i choose to pray, if i keep a beard or not, if i'm on the path shown by god? All this is important for one so that they remind one constantly of god. normally people are not mentally strong enough to be 100% devoted all the time, and so these symbols act only as supportive system. for someone who is into god totally, these symbols are no issues.
g) most religious muslim youth are reserved to themselves, because they feel the outside world is getting polluted by modernism and so its important for them not to let themselves distracted.
h) muslim parents send their kids to madrasas not for jobs, but to make a good human out of them. A good human is one who loves everyone and is loved by everyone (muhabbat), who moves on the path of god.
In this sense somewhere our hindu parents have faltered I believe. Our parents are now more interested in making us successful in life, and the good human being has taken a back seat. Most important is to be successful, being a good human at the cost of success is considered foolish now.
In our entire conversation, this young boy was very careful in his choice of words. He never used the word allah, but only god. He stressed on muhabbat (love) time and again. It was one the best conversations i've had in life.
Hyderabad came at 9pm, and we shook hands before leaving.
trip to home:part III In Delhi
I reached home on Tuesday morning, after 2 days of what had been the most memorable trip.
I told every detail of it to mom and nani. They were very happy to see me back.
It is Diwali time. It's time for loads of sweets.But this time there were less sweets. It seems, a few days ago, the police had caught tons of synthetic khoya (the main ingredient of most of the sweets). This khoya was made not from milk, but from urea and even surf. So finally they realize what we have been saying for some years now, I thought. And so this time, more people were giving dry fruits as gifts and not sweets. Some were even giving chocolates and pepsi as gifts. Diwali in truely modern sense I guess. Thats the latest trend, the shopkeeper told me.
Ours was gladly still a not so modern Diwali. We gave dry fruits along with Kheel and Patasha (the original and cheapest and cleanest diwali gift). Most of India still celebrates with kheel patasha and diyas.
Diwali also means, meeting up with people many people whom we didn't meet in the entire year.Old family friends.Old memories. Aunties and uncles telling us what we did as kids. Remembering the old times. Thanking each other for being there always, in toughest times and also good times. I always wished if we have more such festivals like these, so that we can meet more often.
A major part of my 5 day stay at home went in meeting people and distributing diwali gifts. In between India played 2 matches against Pakistan. We won one and lost one.
It was sunday, time to return back to Hyderabad
I told every detail of it to mom and nani. They were very happy to see me back.
It is Diwali time. It's time for loads of sweets.But this time there were less sweets. It seems, a few days ago, the police had caught tons of synthetic khoya (the main ingredient of most of the sweets). This khoya was made not from milk, but from urea and even surf. So finally they realize what we have been saying for some years now, I thought. And so this time, more people were giving dry fruits as gifts and not sweets. Some were even giving chocolates and pepsi as gifts. Diwali in truely modern sense I guess. Thats the latest trend, the shopkeeper told me.
Ours was gladly still a not so modern Diwali. We gave dry fruits along with Kheel and Patasha (the original and cheapest and cleanest diwali gift). Most of India still celebrates with kheel patasha and diyas.
Diwali also means, meeting up with people many people whom we didn't meet in the entire year.Old family friends.Old memories. Aunties and uncles telling us what we did as kids. Remembering the old times. Thanking each other for being there always, in toughest times and also good times. I always wished if we have more such festivals like these, so that we can meet more often.
A major part of my 5 day stay at home went in meeting people and distributing diwali gifts. In between India played 2 matches against Pakistan. We won one and lost one.
It was sunday, time to return back to Hyderabad
trip to home:part II Nagpur city and Manoj
While in the bus, one of the passengers had told me about a dharamshala, where I could change and take bath in just ten rupees. After coming out of the Nagpur bus station I signaled to a rickshaw walla. Pretending to be a local, I asked him with confidence "tanga stand"? He nodded and said 30 rupees. I pretended to be shocked (as if I knew what the correct fare would be). I moved on. He then shouted "achcha 25 rupees". I kept moving away from him, towards another rickshaw walla. He then held my hand, "achcha give 20 rupees, it is boney time." Boney is the first income of the day, and it sets the trend for the day to come. I agreed, being happy in me that I bargained good 10 rupees and was not fooled this time (I get fooled on usual occasions).
Off went the rickshaw, through the narrow lanes of Nagpur. I was beginning to like the city. It was almost 9.30 am, but the shops were still closed, the roads were still deserted. It seemed people here are not in a rush. It seemed a laid back city, much the way I like. The rickshaw kept moving for 20 min now. Where the hell is tanga stand i thought. It sure was far from the bus station. 3o rupees weren't too much after all. I gave him 30 rupees on reaching tanga stand. He asked me if i could also sponsor him a tea. I did happily, another 2 rupees. So was I fooled again this time? ah, I don't care if I was.
I found a jain dharamshala there, where in 25 rupees i could use their facilities to freshen up. Nagpur is like Haridwar of Maharashtra. It's a hindu religious place, and so there are a lot of dharamshalas. The next was a roadside poha I had .Yummy!!. Nothing like anything I've had before. I then took a bus to the railway station, from where I would get my train at 4pm. The city buses are pretty spacious and well maintained in Nagpur.
I reached station at 12 noon, and decided the spend the rest of time there, seeing the trains leave. Nagpur is the central most city of India, and so one can get train for every direction. I was sitting on a raised platform seeing the trains, the people, the coolies. Next to me was a young boy, Manoj. He was 12 years old and was going home to Gorakhpur. He was probably the only one not traveling to celebrate Diwali but for other reasons. The following the conversation I had with Manoj over the next 4 hours.
M: bhaiya gorakhpur ki gaadi isi platform par aayegi
Me: Mujhe nahi pata, waha dekho us par likh ke aayega (pointing towards the electronic display)
M: mujhe padna nahi aata. aap dekh ke batao
Me: (after looking at the display) haan isi par aayegi shaam ko 5 baje
....................quiet period.......................
M: jab train aayegi to aap mujhe bata dena
Me: meri train to 4 baje hai, tum chinta mat karo isi platform pe aayegi
M: main subah waali gaadi chhod chuka hu. mujhe bahut tej bukhar hai. train mein bahut bheed thi, main chad hi nahi paaya. ab yeh last train hai gorakhpur ki.
(I touched his hand. He did have fever)
....................quiet period.......................
M: aap kaha jaa rahe ho?
Me: dilli
M: gorakhpur se dilli ki gaadi to mil jaati hogi??
(it seemed as if he was suggesting i go along with him to gorakhpur and then catch a train to delhi)
(I didnt know how to respond to the question)
....................quiet period.......................
Me: tumhe gorakhpur se aage bhi kahi jaana hai
M:haan ,naugarh. gorakhpur se chhoti line hai naugarh ki.
Me: naugarh to nepal border pe hai na?
M: haan (seemed a little excited, as if saying ah here is someone who has heard of naugarh)
Me: pahad hai waha?
M: nahi pahad nahi hai, lekin chhapre se pahad dikh jaate hai
(i had no idea what chhapra was.maybe some place)
Me:hmm....nadi hai waha?
M: haa hai
Me: kya naam hai?
M: us nadi ka koi naam nahi hai. sarkari nadi hai
(he was probably referring to a canal)
....................quiet period.......................
Me: Nagpur kaam karne aaye the??
M: haan, sheet banata tha.2 mahine pahle aaya tha
Me:sheet??
M: haan sheet (pointing towards the roof. he was referring to asbestos sheet which are used in ceilings).
Me: to ghar kyun jaa rahe ho??
M: mujhe bukhar hai ek mahine se.tabiyat bahut kharaab hai.
....................quiet period.......................
M: aap jaante hai is bukhaar ko? ek din chhod ke aata hai. bahut tez chadta hai
Me: bukhar ke time sharir kaapta bhi hai??
M: haan bahut kaapta hai
Me: tum jaha rehte ho, waha machchar hai??
M: haan bahut machchar hai
(malaria i thought. poor kid)
Me:tumhara naam kya hai?
M:manoj
....................quiet period.......................
Me: ghar kuch kama ke le jaa rahe ho ya khaali haath??
M: jo kamaya tha bhaiya, woh bukhaar mein lag gaya.ab mere paas sirf 50 rupees hai
Me: ticket le liya train ka?
M: haa le liye
(he showed me the ticket.i then explained him what all the ticket says)
....................quiet period.......................
Me: ghar mein kaun hai tumhare
M: pitaji hai aur do bahan hai.
(no mother)
Me: pitaji kya karte hai
M: kabadi hai
(income not more that1000-1500 per month i thought)
Me:bahano ki shaadi ho gayi??
M: haan, dono ki ho gayi
(thank god i thought. to marry one's daughters is a huge responsibility in this part of the world, and poor people find it very hard).
Me: to matlab ab tumhari baari hai shaadi ki (i said this with a smile)
M: nahi mein to abhi 12 saal ka hi hu (his expression never changed. no smile.)
....................quiet period.......................
....................quiet period.......................
M: bhaiya, mujhe kaha gaya train mein log samaan loot lete hai. aisa to nahi hota hoga na??
(here was a young boy, who still believed in the world. who thought why would anyone steal my luggage?i didnt know how to respond to his question. i didn't want to break this faith which very few people have now)
Me: nahi aisa to kuchch nahi hota.darne waali koi baat nahi hai.tum apne bag ke upar hi baith jana.
(i then told him about the announcements being made in the station.i wanted to teach him to understand the announcements so that he would know when his train is announced.soon i realised it was really difficult for him to concentrate on each announcement. i then told me he could go to any coolie dressed in red and ask them.coolies have all the information. after all this, he still wasn't confident enough, and wanted me to stay till his train comes. i tried to explain i can't as my train was announced and i had to leave. it was one of those moments when i hated being practical).
(my train came.i had to go. i took out 100 rupee note and gave it to him.)
Me: yeh rakho, raste mein kuch khaa lena.bhooke pet mat jaana
(he looked at me, not saying a word and holding the note in his hand)
Me: is note ko andar ki pocket mein rakh le. ise kharch mat karna. 50 ke note ko kharch karna
(he kept it inside his pocket. there was a man sitting next to us, who wondered what is happening).
I got on my train.
My nani (grandmother) always says, if one gives water to a thirsty man, or food to hungry man, or guides a lost man, then he gives best wishes from his heart (uski aatma se dua nikalti hai).
Off went the rickshaw, through the narrow lanes of Nagpur. I was beginning to like the city. It was almost 9.30 am, but the shops were still closed, the roads were still deserted. It seemed people here are not in a rush. It seemed a laid back city, much the way I like. The rickshaw kept moving for 20 min now. Where the hell is tanga stand i thought. It sure was far from the bus station. 3o rupees weren't too much after all. I gave him 30 rupees on reaching tanga stand. He asked me if i could also sponsor him a tea. I did happily, another 2 rupees. So was I fooled again this time? ah, I don't care if I was.
I found a jain dharamshala there, where in 25 rupees i could use their facilities to freshen up. Nagpur is like Haridwar of Maharashtra. It's a hindu religious place, and so there are a lot of dharamshalas. The next was a roadside poha I had .Yummy!!. Nothing like anything I've had before. I then took a bus to the railway station, from where I would get my train at 4pm. The city buses are pretty spacious and well maintained in Nagpur.
I reached station at 12 noon, and decided the spend the rest of time there, seeing the trains leave. Nagpur is the central most city of India, and so one can get train for every direction. I was sitting on a raised platform seeing the trains, the people, the coolies. Next to me was a young boy, Manoj. He was 12 years old and was going home to Gorakhpur. He was probably the only one not traveling to celebrate Diwali but for other reasons. The following the conversation I had with Manoj over the next 4 hours.
M: bhaiya gorakhpur ki gaadi isi platform par aayegi
Me: Mujhe nahi pata, waha dekho us par likh ke aayega (pointing towards the electronic display)
M: mujhe padna nahi aata. aap dekh ke batao
Me: (after looking at the display) haan isi par aayegi shaam ko 5 baje
....................quiet period.......................
M: jab train aayegi to aap mujhe bata dena
Me: meri train to 4 baje hai, tum chinta mat karo isi platform pe aayegi
M: main subah waali gaadi chhod chuka hu. mujhe bahut tej bukhar hai. train mein bahut bheed thi, main chad hi nahi paaya. ab yeh last train hai gorakhpur ki.
(I touched his hand. He did have fever)
....................quiet period.......................
M: aap kaha jaa rahe ho?
Me: dilli
M: gorakhpur se dilli ki gaadi to mil jaati hogi??
(it seemed as if he was suggesting i go along with him to gorakhpur and then catch a train to delhi)
(I didnt know how to respond to the question)
....................quiet period.......................
Me: tumhe gorakhpur se aage bhi kahi jaana hai
M:haan ,naugarh. gorakhpur se chhoti line hai naugarh ki.
Me: naugarh to nepal border pe hai na?
M: haan (seemed a little excited, as if saying ah here is someone who has heard of naugarh)
Me: pahad hai waha?
M: nahi pahad nahi hai, lekin chhapre se pahad dikh jaate hai
(i had no idea what chhapra was.maybe some place)
Me:hmm....nadi hai waha?
M: haa hai
Me: kya naam hai?
M: us nadi ka koi naam nahi hai. sarkari nadi hai
(he was probably referring to a canal)
....................quiet period.......................
Me: Nagpur kaam karne aaye the??
M: haan, sheet banata tha.2 mahine pahle aaya tha
Me:sheet??
M: haan sheet (pointing towards the roof. he was referring to asbestos sheet which are used in ceilings).
Me: to ghar kyun jaa rahe ho??
M: mujhe bukhar hai ek mahine se.tabiyat bahut kharaab hai.
....................quiet period.......................
M: aap jaante hai is bukhaar ko? ek din chhod ke aata hai. bahut tez chadta hai
Me: bukhar ke time sharir kaapta bhi hai??
M: haan bahut kaapta hai
Me: tum jaha rehte ho, waha machchar hai??
M: haan bahut machchar hai
(malaria i thought. poor kid)
Me:tumhara naam kya hai?
M:manoj
....................quiet period.......................
Me: ghar kuch kama ke le jaa rahe ho ya khaali haath??
M: jo kamaya tha bhaiya, woh bukhaar mein lag gaya.ab mere paas sirf 50 rupees hai
Me: ticket le liya train ka?
M: haa le liye
(he showed me the ticket.i then explained him what all the ticket says)
....................quiet period.......................
Me: ghar mein kaun hai tumhare
M: pitaji hai aur do bahan hai.
(no mother)
Me: pitaji kya karte hai
M: kabadi hai
(income not more that1000-1500 per month i thought)
Me:bahano ki shaadi ho gayi??
M: haan, dono ki ho gayi
(thank god i thought. to marry one's daughters is a huge responsibility in this part of the world, and poor people find it very hard).
Me: to matlab ab tumhari baari hai shaadi ki (i said this with a smile)
M: nahi mein to abhi 12 saal ka hi hu (his expression never changed. no smile.)
....................quiet period.......................
....................quiet period.......................
M: bhaiya, mujhe kaha gaya train mein log samaan loot lete hai. aisa to nahi hota hoga na??
(here was a young boy, who still believed in the world. who thought why would anyone steal my luggage?i didnt know how to respond to his question. i didn't want to break this faith which very few people have now)
Me: nahi aisa to kuchch nahi hota.darne waali koi baat nahi hai.tum apne bag ke upar hi baith jana.
(i then told him about the announcements being made in the station.i wanted to teach him to understand the announcements so that he would know when his train is announced.soon i realised it was really difficult for him to concentrate on each announcement. i then told me he could go to any coolie dressed in red and ask them.coolies have all the information. after all this, he still wasn't confident enough, and wanted me to stay till his train comes. i tried to explain i can't as my train was announced and i had to leave. it was one of those moments when i hated being practical).
(my train came.i had to go. i took out 100 rupee note and gave it to him.)
Me: yeh rakho, raste mein kuch khaa lena.bhooke pet mat jaana
(he looked at me, not saying a word and holding the note in his hand)
Me: is note ko andar ki pocket mein rakh le. ise kharch mat karna. 50 ke note ko kharch karna
(he kept it inside his pocket. there was a man sitting next to us, who wondered what is happening).
I got on my train.
My nani (grandmother) always says, if one gives water to a thirsty man, or food to hungry man, or guides a lost man, then he gives best wishes from his heart (uski aatma se dua nikalti hai).
trip to home:part I The bus ride
With the festival of Diwali coming I decided to make a quick trip to home. Diwali and Holi are two festivals which most people want to celebrate with their families and I was one such person. Diwali is the celebration of Lord Ram coming back home after defeating the demon Ravan and rescuing Sita from him.It's difficult for me to imagine that the whole nation moves on Diwali to celebrate the event which the ASI says 'has no historical proof'. I'm sure even the ASI officials would celebrate this not so real event.
Anyways, so I was one of the many many Indians and decided to go home. At this time it is usually to get a train ticket. I couldn't get a ticket from Hyderabad, but managed to get one from Nagpur which is about 500km from Hyderabad.So my plan was to take a bus from Hyderabad to Nagpur on Sunday evening. I would then reach Nagpur next day morning, and then catch the train to Delhi in the evening and reach Delhi on Tuesday morning.
My bus started at 6 pm from Hyderabad. It was Maharashtra state government vehicle and as expected quite rickety. We were 5 passengers in all, and the conductor was happy to see us. He was happy to see so many people going to Nagpur.It seems the Diwali rush is starting, he said. This is no rush, just 5 passengers I thought. And so we started, each one having the entire three seat room.
The road was nothing great. I've seen better roads in north. Soon one of the rear tires got punctured. They found it to be the inner tire and so thought it's safe to carry on with the journey. After 4 hours of bumpy ride, we reached Nizamabad, where atleast 80-100 people were waiting for this bus, all heading for Nagpur. Just as the bus dared to enter the bus station, all of them attacked it, wanted to get in from any possible entry, the door being only one of the possible entry points. The others were ofcourse the windows (including the driver window). We were all shocked inside, not knowing what had struck us. The driver and conductor abandoned the bus and vanished only to return after 20 min, when every inch of the bus was occupied. There were people everywhere. All seats occupied. The pathway occupied. Some even sat on top of the seat, such that their head would touch the ceiling. In such a crowd, people carry their chappals in hand rather than wearing them. The chappals would not survive the onslaught. The seat next to me was taken by an old couple. I asked why so much of rush today? "Everyone going home for Diwali", she replied.
All these people were labourers who belonged to place called Gondia in the state of M.P in central India. There are two distinct features about labourers when they travel. One, they always travel together in large groups, leaving no one behind. Here it seemed it was the entire village on the move, each passenger seemed related to the other. I could figure this out, as they all seemed to know each other and addressed each other as chacha or tai (uncle or aunt). It must be real fun to go on holiday together with everyone I thought. The other feature being, they carry all their belongings when they move. So I'm not only talking about clothes here, but everything. Few of them carried bicycles (which were placed on top of the bus), there were others carrying buckets. One such requested me if I could carry his bucket on lap,assuring me it was not heavy and he could not fit it into the shelf meant to keep the luggage. I gladly accepted his bucket. In it i could see a kadai and karchi (a bowl and stirrer used for cooking). Seeing all this I couldn't help but smile. It was like a great Indian safari for me. A true picture of how India travels.
As the bus moved, I opened the window and a nice cool breeze hit me. We were passing through the telangana region of Andhra Pradesh, and would enter the Vidarbh region in Maharashtra. These regions have been in news in recent years for their poverty and farmer suicides. The sky was clear and I had a good view of the moon. As the bus moved northward, the road became from bad to worse. And with so many people inside, no one could move an inch. We all had to maintain a statue for next 10 hours. The only space we had was to move out eyelid.
Then suddenly, a suitcase fell from the shelf.It was a big bag and so could not fit in properly. With each bump, it would inch out and then finally fell down. It fell on a man's head who was sitting under that shelf. He was raged. without asking to whom did it belonged, he just opened the window and threw out the suitcase.WHAM!! "HEY WHAT THE @#$%",shouted someone from the back."BUS ROKO,BUS ROKO" (stop the bus). Then followed a series of arguments, others laughing at the situation (I being one of them). The bag was collected and the bus moved again.
As the night progressed it became cold. I was thinking about the flat tire. I was thinking if the bus would last the entire journey. Well it did. We reached Nagpur at 9 am, good 3 hours behind schedule. Everyone had been waiting for this moment. We were all holding onto our various pressures very patiently, and it was a big relief to know we have reached.
Anyways, so I was one of the many many Indians and decided to go home. At this time it is usually to get a train ticket. I couldn't get a ticket from Hyderabad, but managed to get one from Nagpur which is about 500km from Hyderabad.So my plan was to take a bus from Hyderabad to Nagpur on Sunday evening. I would then reach Nagpur next day morning, and then catch the train to Delhi in the evening and reach Delhi on Tuesday morning.
My bus started at 6 pm from Hyderabad. It was Maharashtra state government vehicle and as expected quite rickety. We were 5 passengers in all, and the conductor was happy to see us. He was happy to see so many people going to Nagpur.It seems the Diwali rush is starting, he said. This is no rush, just 5 passengers I thought. And so we started, each one having the entire three seat room.
The road was nothing great. I've seen better roads in north. Soon one of the rear tires got punctured. They found it to be the inner tire and so thought it's safe to carry on with the journey. After 4 hours of bumpy ride, we reached Nizamabad, where atleast 80-100 people were waiting for this bus, all heading for Nagpur. Just as the bus dared to enter the bus station, all of them attacked it, wanted to get in from any possible entry, the door being only one of the possible entry points. The others were ofcourse the windows (including the driver window). We were all shocked inside, not knowing what had struck us. The driver and conductor abandoned the bus and vanished only to return after 20 min, when every inch of the bus was occupied. There were people everywhere. All seats occupied. The pathway occupied. Some even sat on top of the seat, such that their head would touch the ceiling. In such a crowd, people carry their chappals in hand rather than wearing them. The chappals would not survive the onslaught. The seat next to me was taken by an old couple. I asked why so much of rush today? "Everyone going home for Diwali", she replied.
All these people were labourers who belonged to place called Gondia in the state of M.P in central India. There are two distinct features about labourers when they travel. One, they always travel together in large groups, leaving no one behind. Here it seemed it was the entire village on the move, each passenger seemed related to the other. I could figure this out, as they all seemed to know each other and addressed each other as chacha or tai (uncle or aunt). It must be real fun to go on holiday together with everyone I thought. The other feature being, they carry all their belongings when they move. So I'm not only talking about clothes here, but everything. Few of them carried bicycles (which were placed on top of the bus), there were others carrying buckets. One such requested me if I could carry his bucket on lap,assuring me it was not heavy and he could not fit it into the shelf meant to keep the luggage. I gladly accepted his bucket. In it i could see a kadai and karchi (a bowl and stirrer used for cooking). Seeing all this I couldn't help but smile. It was like a great Indian safari for me. A true picture of how India travels.
As the bus moved, I opened the window and a nice cool breeze hit me. We were passing through the telangana region of Andhra Pradesh, and would enter the Vidarbh region in Maharashtra. These regions have been in news in recent years for their poverty and farmer suicides. The sky was clear and I had a good view of the moon. As the bus moved northward, the road became from bad to worse. And with so many people inside, no one could move an inch. We all had to maintain a statue for next 10 hours. The only space we had was to move out eyelid.
Then suddenly, a suitcase fell from the shelf.It was a big bag and so could not fit in properly. With each bump, it would inch out and then finally fell down. It fell on a man's head who was sitting under that shelf. He was raged. without asking to whom did it belonged, he just opened the window and threw out the suitcase.WHAM!! "HEY WHAT THE @#$%",shouted someone from the back."BUS ROKO,BUS ROKO" (stop the bus). Then followed a series of arguments, others laughing at the situation (I being one of them). The bag was collected and the bus moved again.
As the night progressed it became cold. I was thinking about the flat tire. I was thinking if the bus would last the entire journey. Well it did. We reached Nagpur at 9 am, good 3 hours behind schedule. Everyone had been waiting for this moment. We were all holding onto our various pressures very patiently, and it was a big relief to know we have reached.
Monday, October 29, 2007
The divided India
It’s been 60 years since the British left
I’m not trying to downplay the role of school in one’s life but I’m trying to question the belief in me which says I’m educated while others are not.
The definition of science is that it’s a study of nature. If I claim to be a science student, if I claim to have an engineering degree, let me then test my knowledge. How much I know about nature as compared to a farmer’s son? Do I know about the nature of soil where I live? Do I know which crops grow in which season and why? Can I look at the sky and say if it will rain or not? How many plants and trees can I identify? How many can I use for medicinal purpose? I have an engineering degree, can I build my own house? Can I repair my car? The answer to all the questions above is NO. Yet it’s me who is educated, in fact professionally educated, while the other is not.
I feel a whole lot of young urban population suffer from this superiority complex. We are made to believe we are fortunate to be able to go to a school. We are more fortunate if we are able to go an English medium public school. We become blessed if after school we get into an IIT. The IITians are made to believe they are the ‘cream of society’.
And so,
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Trip to my village:The generation gap
This is about my trip to a land where my parents lived. This is a land where all my uncles and aunties belong to. My parents and some of my uncles moved to the metros for jobs, so me and my most of my cousins were born and brought up in an alien environment. And as we grew older, the alien land, the alien culture became our culture, while that of our parents' became alien culture to us. I guess this is what they call 'generation gap'.
My village happens to be about 12 km from a town called Bijnore (140 km from Delhi) in west U.P (a state in northern India). We usually take a bus from Delhi to Bijnore. From Bijnore, we need to take another bus (a local bus) to a village called Nangal Jat. From Nangal Jat, my village (Mohanpur) is 3 km, which we can walk (if the sun is not too bright) or take a tanga (horse cart). It usually takes a whole day from home to home (a home in Delhi to another home in my village). And this journey is a reflection of what I called generation gap.
My parents over the time tried persistently to reduce this generation gap. They made extra efforts to make sure I visit my ancestral village each year, they made a point that I spoke the same language as my ancestors did, they made a point that I celebrate at least some festivals (if not all), which my ancestors celebrated. But despite all their efforts (and also mine), today I feel like a stranger when I visit my village. I feel it's like a trip to some unknown place, where I need to watch out for strangers, where I still don't quite understand a lot of things they do (or not do). For example I never understood, why the buses in this region never move on time. The system here is, the bus only moves when minimum number of passengers are on board (although this minimum number is not too distant from the maximum capacity of the bus). I never understood, why do we still have a one lane road here. I never understood, where there are no bus stops along the road. The bus would stop for anyone, anywhere who signals it to stop. What is referred to as transport system in Delhi does not exist here. Unlike Delhi, slow moving vehicles are given preference than fast moving vehicles. For example if there is a bullock cart (buggi) on the road, the bus has to wait for it to go off the road, to move ahead. So a journey of 9 km takes easily an hour.Once we get down at Nangal Jat, we are more likely to reach home early if we choose to walk than take a tanga. Again the same logic, the tanga would wait for minimum passengers (or maybe the maximum the horse can handle), and only then will it move.
I never understood all the above things and regarded them a sign of backwardness. I was taught in school, one who doesn't value time lags behind. And so these people are bound to remain backward till they change their attitude, I thought. Hey, wait a min. I thought i said 'these people'. They are my people, or I'm theirs or both. This is where my father grew. My father would have touched feet of many of them. How did the word 'these' came in my mind. I guess it's only a sign of my alienation from my roots.
I told my chachaji (who had come to receive me at Nangal Jat) how bad I felt seeing people not valuing their time, which something I don't understand. Chachaji agreed with me and said "people are not in hurry here". I guess that answered it all. If somebody is not in a hurry, then it really doesn't matter if the bus moves on 'time' or not. In fact, then the whole system changes. It's time for the bus to move, when all are on board (and not when the watch reads some numbers). It's proper for the bus to wait for the buggi to get off the road, because it takes a whole lot of an effort for a man to get the buggi off and then on the road. Where as the bus driver only needs to apply breaks, wait, change gears and then push on the accelerator. This answer of Chachaji simply made things take a 180 degree turn. Of what seemed to be a problem of lack of transport system on part of 'these' people, was nothing more than a problem of patience in me. Lack of patience in me could also be a concern I now realized. And if I simply become more patient, things would be so different for me.
"So why are people here not in a hurry", I asked. Thats a wrong question to ask he said. The correct question would be, why are people in Delhi always in a hurry? whats the rush? He was right. It was a deep seated assumption in me that I'm more 'advanced', and people here are 'backward', and so that made me question just about everything of this place. As a human being, do I want to be in a rush or do I want to go easy?? I guess the answer is pretty obvious.
At this point a thought flashed through my mind. Is it possible, that these people would be equally amazed and confused to see me as I'm to see them. Just like didn't understand their way of live, is it possible even they don't understand my way of life?? After all any sensible man would want to wonder why the other guy is always in a rush. Just like I didn't understand, why do we still have a single lane road here, maybe even they would not understand why is half of Delhi always on the road. Why can't people sit at home? Chachaji said yes. He said just like I was confused seeing them, they were confused too seeing me. for example he said, "looking at your dress, they would wonder how can anyone wear such a tight fit jeans in this heat, when there are better options available". Oh they would not understand this.I thought. This is stylish. Thank god I didn't say that, I only thought. I realized how stupid that response would have been.
Just then, looking at the sky Chachaji said, "lets hurry up its going to rain". Rain? It's hot. Within minutes we could see the rain coming to us. I for the first time saw rain from a distance. It was amazing. We ran towards home and the rain chased us. The rain caught up with us within few meters of run and we were drenched. Rain! I have always loved rain. The feel of rain, the smell of rain.
My village happens to be about 12 km from a town called Bijnore (140 km from Delhi) in west U.P (a state in northern India). We usually take a bus from Delhi to Bijnore. From Bijnore, we need to take another bus (a local bus) to a village called Nangal Jat. From Nangal Jat, my village (Mohanpur) is 3 km, which we can walk (if the sun is not too bright) or take a tanga (horse cart). It usually takes a whole day from home to home (a home in Delhi to another home in my village). And this journey is a reflection of what I called generation gap.
My parents over the time tried persistently to reduce this generation gap. They made extra efforts to make sure I visit my ancestral village each year, they made a point that I spoke the same language as my ancestors did, they made a point that I celebrate at least some festivals (if not all), which my ancestors celebrated. But despite all their efforts (and also mine), today I feel like a stranger when I visit my village. I feel it's like a trip to some unknown place, where I need to watch out for strangers, where I still don't quite understand a lot of things they do (or not do). For example I never understood, why the buses in this region never move on time. The system here is, the bus only moves when minimum number of passengers are on board (although this minimum number is not too distant from the maximum capacity of the bus). I never understood, why do we still have a one lane road here. I never understood, where there are no bus stops along the road. The bus would stop for anyone, anywhere who signals it to stop. What is referred to as transport system in Delhi does not exist here. Unlike Delhi, slow moving vehicles are given preference than fast moving vehicles. For example if there is a bullock cart (buggi) on the road, the bus has to wait for it to go off the road, to move ahead. So a journey of 9 km takes easily an hour.Once we get down at Nangal Jat, we are more likely to reach home early if we choose to walk than take a tanga. Again the same logic, the tanga would wait for minimum passengers (or maybe the maximum the horse can handle), and only then will it move.
I never understood all the above things and regarded them a sign of backwardness. I was taught in school, one who doesn't value time lags behind. And so these people are bound to remain backward till they change their attitude, I thought. Hey, wait a min. I thought i said 'these people'. They are my people, or I'm theirs or both. This is where my father grew. My father would have touched feet of many of them. How did the word 'these' came in my mind. I guess it's only a sign of my alienation from my roots.
I told my chachaji (who had come to receive me at Nangal Jat) how bad I felt seeing people not valuing their time, which something I don't understand. Chachaji agreed with me and said "people are not in hurry here". I guess that answered it all. If somebody is not in a hurry, then it really doesn't matter if the bus moves on 'time' or not. In fact, then the whole system changes. It's time for the bus to move, when all are on board (and not when the watch reads some numbers). It's proper for the bus to wait for the buggi to get off the road, because it takes a whole lot of an effort for a man to get the buggi off and then on the road. Where as the bus driver only needs to apply breaks, wait, change gears and then push on the accelerator. This answer of Chachaji simply made things take a 180 degree turn. Of what seemed to be a problem of lack of transport system on part of 'these' people, was nothing more than a problem of patience in me. Lack of patience in me could also be a concern I now realized. And if I simply become more patient, things would be so different for me.
"So why are people here not in a hurry", I asked. Thats a wrong question to ask he said. The correct question would be, why are people in Delhi always in a hurry? whats the rush? He was right. It was a deep seated assumption in me that I'm more 'advanced', and people here are 'backward', and so that made me question just about everything of this place. As a human being, do I want to be in a rush or do I want to go easy?? I guess the answer is pretty obvious.
At this point a thought flashed through my mind. Is it possible, that these people would be equally amazed and confused to see me as I'm to see them. Just like didn't understand their way of live, is it possible even they don't understand my way of life?? After all any sensible man would want to wonder why the other guy is always in a rush. Just like I didn't understand, why do we still have a single lane road here, maybe even they would not understand why is half of Delhi always on the road. Why can't people sit at home? Chachaji said yes. He said just like I was confused seeing them, they were confused too seeing me. for example he said, "looking at your dress, they would wonder how can anyone wear such a tight fit jeans in this heat, when there are better options available". Oh they would not understand this.I thought. This is stylish. Thank god I didn't say that, I only thought. I realized how stupid that response would have been.
Just then, looking at the sky Chachaji said, "lets hurry up its going to rain". Rain? It's hot. Within minutes we could see the rain coming to us. I for the first time saw rain from a distance. It was amazing. We ran towards home and the rain chased us. The rain caught up with us within few meters of run and we were drenched. Rain! I have always loved rain. The feel of rain, the smell of rain.
Saturday, October 6, 2007
The call from Mata Vaishnodevi
Indians are very religious people by nature. It's very natural for us to believe in god and godly things. And as one starts getting educated, one has to put effort time and again to develop that 'scientific' temper which says there is nothing like god. All that is seen or talked about godly things, are nothing but superstitions. They are like some magical tricks performed to make a fool of you. I think most of educated India tries to go on this theory, but i feel they struggle to move on it. Somewhere within they still believe in god. I was one such person who was not able to decide whether there is or there is not something called god.
There is a temple of Mata Vaishnodevi (referred to as Mata for short) in the pir panjal hills on state jammu and kashmir. It is widely believed (not the scientific belief) that one does not go there by choice. One goes there only when Mata calls and not otherwise. I had heard of this story from many people, on how they had planned everything but had to cancel it at the last moment. I had also heard about the other side, how people went just like that, without any planning.
It was august 2005, my fourth year of engineering. A few months back my friends went to Mata, but for some reason i didnt got with them. This is worth mentioning, because i was the kind of person who is ready to drop anything and travel. And so when my friends told me about their plan for the trip , they must have surprised when i refused to go. I was surprised too. This was april 2005, about 3 months ago. Something happened in august 2005 which forced me to change my way of thinking.
Day I
12 noon, i was in my room when our results of previous semester was announced. My result had been stopped for some reason by the university. To wait for one's result is some kind of a mental stress, but when your result is withheld without any explanation, then it becomes a mental torture. I asked the people concerned in college, but they had no answers why it happened. They also couldnt tell me for sure when it will be announced. The only thing they told me, that i was not the only one like this, a few more students were in similar situation. That was some kind of relief but not much. Back in the hostel, my fellow mates were celebrating about the marks they had obtained. This time most of the students had done well, so i really couldnt find anyone who was sad about his result. It seemed i was the only one in hostel who was not in any kind of celebration. My friend Charzal, was happy too. He had never scored this well in his entire engg career uptill now. It seemed the whole world has turned around me. Why me? Why was i denied this opportunity to celebrate with everyone?
All this was getting too much on me, and by 3 pm i decided i needed a break from this. It was perhaps more of running away. I wanted to get to a place where no one is talking about results and marks, to a place where i can forget for a moment who i was. And so i decided to go. Go somewhere. Charzal asked me where, i said i don't know. I asked him for some money, but as usual he was a fakir (somebody who does not even have a penny). I thought of Dinesh, another good friend who is always ready to lend money (it doesnt even matter if he knows you or not).
I went to his room in Agra city, and he gave me 3000 bucks. He asked me where i planned to go, i said i dont know, maybe the mountains. He then gave me his warm Jacket too, incase i go to place where its cold. And so, with 3000 bucks in my pocket, a bag pack and a broken knee i took a bus at 5 pm for Delhi. Delhi is my home town too, but i was sure that i will not be going home.
I reached Delhi bus station at 9 pm, and i saw another bus being lined up for Jammu. Jammu is some 14 hours ride from Delhi. I thought thats the furthest i can go. And if i go that far, let me also pay a visit to Mata's temple. But this temple is know for the huge crowd of people it draws. I had heard sometimes the queue is upto 2 days long. People wait in the queue for 2 days before they get a chance to get in the temple. And once in the temple, one would be lucky if one can spend more than a couple of seconds in front of Mata's idol. I thought i can never do all that. Once i reach there, only then i'll take a descision about the temple. For now i'm going to just Jammu.
I had dinner at a roadside eatery ( a thali for Rs 20, where one could eat stomach full). Our bus moved out of station exactly at 10 pm as scheduled. When it comes to timing, the buses in north seem to be more reliable than trains. I took a seat, right behind the driver, so that i can enjoy the view which a driver does. A 14 hour journey would mean atleast 4 breaks and change of driver atleast once. But i was to be proved wrong, much to my amazement.
Day II
Our bus took the first break after 3 hours at 1 am just before the town of Ambala in state of Haryana. To travel this far in just 3 hours was surely considered fast. It was a 20 min dinner break. The next break was at Jullundhar in state of Punjab at 4.30 am. I actually thought it would be another of those 20 min breaks, and so got down to stretch my legs and empty my bowel. I was surprised to notice the driver honking the horn after 5 min. God, is this man crazy. He's been driving for more than 6 hours now. But he seemed to be in hurry. It seemed some kind of race with another bus being on our tail. As soon as this other bus reached Jullunder bus station, off went our bus. The next break was at 6.30 am, and thankfully this time for 20 min. It was a break-fast break. The bus stopped at a Dhaba (roadside eatery which provides parking space). The dhabas in Punjab are known for their food, and i had some delicious and filling aloo paranthas. The bus moved again after 20 min and i slept on my seat (by now almost half the bus had gone empty and so got a full seat to stretch my back. When i got up (actually i was woken up by a lady, since i was occupying 3 seats and she was 1 for her to sit). I realised it was past 8 am and we had entered the state of Jammu and kashmir. The 4 lane road had now become a 2 lane undivided road. The traffic on the road had now more of army vehicles, than i had ever seen before. I knew we are in J&K. And I just realised, the driver was the same. This guy was surely crazy. He had been driving for 10 hours now, and driving with the same speed. He was doing all sort of maneuvers possible with a bus when over taking other vehicles. Sitting just behind him had been exciting uptill now, but now it was getting a bit scary. I wonder the the DTC cant arrange for 2 drivers on such a long route? Well if they can trust this mad man, then so shall I. I have no reason to fear, since he does this everyday. He knows his job, let me trust him. All that gave me some courage and so I didnt change my seats. At 10 am we reached Jammu city after 12 hours of journey. Hey wait a min, i thought it would take 14 hours. The conductor said 14 hours to Katra (the town below Mata's temple). The bus got empty at Jammu. I was the only one who wanted to go to katra. It seemed the driver was little disappointed. He probably thought the bus would get empty at Jammu and then he will have a break itself. But what the hell, we'll go to Katra and then break. I told him we can have a tea break if he wishes to have one, but what the hell. It seemed I was underestimating him, which he couldn't live with. And so off we went to Katra, another 2 hours ride from Jammu, and this time it was all mountain roads. The city of Jammu seemed as if there is some kind of war. All you could see was army. Army trucks, open army jeeps mounted with a machine gun on the top, foot soldiers all along the road, fully dressed in battle gear. And amongst all this our bus sped past them, honking them. Just as we crossed Jammu, the conductor found an empty school bag left behind in the bus. He asked me if it was mine. I denied. In a sensitive state like J&K, this bag could easily be a bomb I thought. Th driver didnt think it was wise enough to stop the bus. The conductor thought it's wise enough to open and check. I thought i need to bend down incase it blasts off. The bag had a notebook and a book in urdu. It seemed some child forgot his bag. Reading the book, it seemed he was a student of primary school, maybe grade 5. Poor kid would be searching for his bag, and will surely be scared of the teacher and later his parents when they will find out he lost it. And here we were thanking our gods, it wasnt a bomb.
The driver asked me if it was my first visit to Mata, i said first in over 10 years. The first time i came was in 1990 when i was a small kid. I visited mata with my family then. he pointed me to a mountain top, with clouds sitting there. Thats where you have to go. He told me I'll get an entry ticket, right where he will drop me, then i have to trek for 14 km up the mountain and show them my ticket. There they will give me another ticket using which i would enter the gufa (cave). The temple is inside the gufa. The driver also told me, that in case i'm done with my darshan (visiting the temple and coming back down to katra), i can catch the same bus back to Delhi tonight. Tonight? " Yes we leave at sharp 10 pm from katra bus stand". Hang on! Is he mad or something. Its 12 noon. We have just finished a 14 hour journey of about 650 km. And he says he will return after exactly 10 hours for another 14 hour and 650 km journey? He nodded his head and said "roz ka kaam hai" ( its his daily job). I got down the bus, and thanked both of them. Thanked them for what? Well i dont know. Maybe for what was going to be the most memorable journey of my life. Or maybe just like that. After all we can thank people for no reason. I thanked them because i felt like. But i was sure im not returning tonight. In any case i'm not taking the 14 km trek right now. I would look some good hotel and sleep and them maybe in the night i'll start the trek. And more over there is suppose to be a 2 day queue. So no way i'll be back tonight.
The yatra begins
Just as I got down the bus, this young boy caught my hand. "Room"??"a/c, non-a/c room"? In such places one doesnt have to look for rooms, the rooms find you. I said yes, but maybe its better to get a ticket first and then get a room for rest."oh that is no problem. Just go into this room and get a ticket and i'll wait for you outside". I went in and i was shocked. I was the only person to get a ticket. The man at the counter was happy to see me. He asked me my name,age and place i came from and there you go i had the ticket. Where is the two day long queue?? I thought maybe its up there, at the entrance of gufa. Just as i came out, this man was waiting for me. I dont know why, i told him i dont need a room to rest, but just a place where i can go to toilet and wash my face, and then i would like to begin my trek right away. I wasnt sure if i was doing the sensible thing, but i was too excited to be sensible then. He then took me to a dharamshala. In india, you would find number of dharamshalas in any religious place. A dharamshala is a place where they dont charge you anything to stay. One can stay for as many days, and they'll not ask for a rupee. But they do ask for donations, if you look like somebody who can pay. I guess its important for people like me to donate at such institutions. Maybe donations like these enable such places to run. Its like a blessing for those poor people who cant afford to pay. Instead of them spending cold mountain nights out in open it's a blessing if they get a room or a dormitory in a dharamshala. I emptied my bowel, washed my face, changed my clothes and donated Rs 51 and thanked everybody there. Although all this took not more than 30 min, and so 51 rupees seemed a bit on higher side, but considering the effect of my donation, i thought maybe i could have given more. More over if i had booked a room, it would easy have cost Rs 300 to Rs 3000. Anyways i was ready to take the yatra. I had light lunch and at 12.50 started me trek. I had heard Mikki bhaiya (my cousin) could trek all the way in 3 hours. I decided to time my trek.
So with one broken knee and about 5 kg of backpack i started. En route were shops playing devotional music of Mata. There were young, old people, people in groups, couples, families. There were people from north India, south and even east. By looking at their clothings, one could tell which part of India they belonged to. Thankfully India is still 'underdeveloped' for not everyone wears jeans and trousers. Each region still has their own dresses own food own language. There were rich and poor too. There were people who walked like me,some who would crawl, some who preferred ponies, some even preferred helicopters. On the way you would have people beating drums. The drum beating becomes an important part of yatra as it keeps you going. When you think of stopping and taking a rest, just then you hear these drums and people chanting 'jai mata di' and signalling you to move on. Everyone does this to everyone. Its like everyone is pushing each other to move on.
I saw a sikh father and son. As it rained in between, the father put a small polythene bag on his son's head. The bag was too small to cover his entire head, instead it just covered his small turban. While some preferred to take shelter in the rain, there were others like me and the little sikh boy, who walked in the rain. I couldnt stop as i was timing myself.
After 3 hrs and 20 min and one 2 min water break i had reached the entrance of temple. 14 km (with 12.5 km being up the hill) in just over 3 hrs wasnt bad i thought.
The entrance also looked comparatively empty. I was given another ticket to proceed, my bag scanned by x-ray machine and i moved on. I deposited my bag and shoes in the cloak room. I was also told to deposit all leather items too. I took out all the money, put it in my pocket and deposited my empty wallet too. At the entrance i was frisked by the army gaurd. Soon i was in a queue which seemed as if it was moving. In India most queues dont seem to move unless you are the first one. But this one did move. Infact it moved too fast. They were right, you can just spend a second in front of Mata and then move. Soon i entered the gufa. There was a pujari sitting in front of Mata's idol and another army personel standing next to him. As the pujari would put a tilak on your forehead, the gaurd would push you out of the gufa. Just as i reached the mata, pujari's tilak got finished. So he had to change his bag of tilak before he could put one on my forehead the the gaurd would push me out. All this gave me well over 5 seconds. Lucky me.
I came out, took my stuff and looked at the time. It was just over 5 pm. The darshan took just 45 min and not 2 days. So what to do now. Well lets down back to Katra. But lets just have a sip of coffee. So i took a nescafe and sat on a pavement looking down the hill, dense forest. I was some monkeys playing. It's one of the great sights to see the monkeys play. So much of energy. How they leap from one tree to other, how they just manage to hang on and not fall, how the little ones just cling onto their mothers.Amazing! My coffee finished, indicating to move on.
This time i decided to take a pony down, as my knee was hurting very badly. I guess the all the timing thing took its toll on my broken knee. The ponywala asked for Rs250 to go down, and he told me its a fixed rate, no bargaining. He also showed me a sign board which had the rate list. Thank god, there is atleast one place in India where you dont have to bargain. More than Rs 250 it would have been the feeling of being cheated which would have caused more damage. But since it was a govt approved rate, i was sure i was not being cheated. A big relief.
As we reached Sanja Chhat ( the highest point of trek) i saw the sun set behind the scattered clouds. Looking down i saw the river Chenab making its way through the hills. It looked like a serpent. The ponywala was a yound boy of Gujjar community. He had a not so normal leg, and so limped. I asked if it pains. He said no, "bachpan se hi aisa ha" (its like this from childhood).
I asked him about the terrorism in the state and whether it had any effect on this temple. I heard what i was expecting to hear. I had heard what so many people had told me. The state of J&K is devastated by islamic terrorists ,but in all the 14 yrs not a single incident has happened in this temple. " Even they know to leave this place alone" he said. I'm still not sure the reason behind this. Maybe its the power of Mata, that nothing has happened here(being unscientific) or maybe something else or maybe just a law of coincidence (being scientific), but its true no incident has happened in last 14 yrs of bloodshed in the state.
I reached down at Katra at 7.30 pm. I was hungry. Had some good food. Its amazing how tasty a simple food may be when one is really hungry. Over the years I had forgotten what being hungry is. Somehow i developed a habit where i would give something to the stomach even before it asked for. I was experiencing something new here. I enjoyed that meal.
Dinner is over, it was 8.30, so what next? Do I look for a room to spend the night? I just remembered what the driver in the afternoon had told me. He would be going back at 10 pm. What the hell, lets take a bus back home. Just then i saw a DTC bus getting ready to leave for Delhi. It was a 9 pm bus. I got onto it.
Day III
Next day at 12 noon i reached Delhi, 15 hours journey, ! hour more than what it took us earlier. Just as we reached Delhi, the bus after us ( the 10 pm bus) also reached, with the same driver in it. I dont remember what happened on the journey way back, because i slept for the entire journey.
Just as i got down this bus, i saw another leaving for Agra. I got onto that and at 3.30 pm was back in college. Charzal was shocked to know I had been to Vaishnodevi and back. I was shocked too. I had travelled about 1800 km in bus, visited one of the most sacred shrines in about 47 hours. My average speed of journey was 38.2 km/hr. My expense of the trip was less than 1000 bucks.
There is a temple of Mata Vaishnodevi (referred to as Mata for short) in the pir panjal hills on state jammu and kashmir. It is widely believed (not the scientific belief) that one does not go there by choice. One goes there only when Mata calls and not otherwise. I had heard of this story from many people, on how they had planned everything but had to cancel it at the last moment. I had also heard about the other side, how people went just like that, without any planning.
It was august 2005, my fourth year of engineering. A few months back my friends went to Mata, but for some reason i didnt got with them. This is worth mentioning, because i was the kind of person who is ready to drop anything and travel. And so when my friends told me about their plan for the trip , they must have surprised when i refused to go. I was surprised too. This was april 2005, about 3 months ago. Something happened in august 2005 which forced me to change my way of thinking.
Day I
12 noon, i was in my room when our results of previous semester was announced. My result had been stopped for some reason by the university. To wait for one's result is some kind of a mental stress, but when your result is withheld without any explanation, then it becomes a mental torture. I asked the people concerned in college, but they had no answers why it happened. They also couldnt tell me for sure when it will be announced. The only thing they told me, that i was not the only one like this, a few more students were in similar situation. That was some kind of relief but not much. Back in the hostel, my fellow mates were celebrating about the marks they had obtained. This time most of the students had done well, so i really couldnt find anyone who was sad about his result. It seemed i was the only one in hostel who was not in any kind of celebration. My friend Charzal, was happy too. He had never scored this well in his entire engg career uptill now. It seemed the whole world has turned around me. Why me? Why was i denied this opportunity to celebrate with everyone?
All this was getting too much on me, and by 3 pm i decided i needed a break from this. It was perhaps more of running away. I wanted to get to a place where no one is talking about results and marks, to a place where i can forget for a moment who i was. And so i decided to go. Go somewhere. Charzal asked me where, i said i don't know. I asked him for some money, but as usual he was a fakir (somebody who does not even have a penny). I thought of Dinesh, another good friend who is always ready to lend money (it doesnt even matter if he knows you or not).
I went to his room in Agra city, and he gave me 3000 bucks. He asked me where i planned to go, i said i dont know, maybe the mountains. He then gave me his warm Jacket too, incase i go to place where its cold. And so, with 3000 bucks in my pocket, a bag pack and a broken knee i took a bus at 5 pm for Delhi. Delhi is my home town too, but i was sure that i will not be going home.
I reached Delhi bus station at 9 pm, and i saw another bus being lined up for Jammu. Jammu is some 14 hours ride from Delhi. I thought thats the furthest i can go. And if i go that far, let me also pay a visit to Mata's temple. But this temple is know for the huge crowd of people it draws. I had heard sometimes the queue is upto 2 days long. People wait in the queue for 2 days before they get a chance to get in the temple. And once in the temple, one would be lucky if one can spend more than a couple of seconds in front of Mata's idol. I thought i can never do all that. Once i reach there, only then i'll take a descision about the temple. For now i'm going to just Jammu.
I had dinner at a roadside eatery ( a thali for Rs 20, where one could eat stomach full). Our bus moved out of station exactly at 10 pm as scheduled. When it comes to timing, the buses in north seem to be more reliable than trains. I took a seat, right behind the driver, so that i can enjoy the view which a driver does. A 14 hour journey would mean atleast 4 breaks and change of driver atleast once. But i was to be proved wrong, much to my amazement.
Day II
Our bus took the first break after 3 hours at 1 am just before the town of Ambala in state of Haryana. To travel this far in just 3 hours was surely considered fast. It was a 20 min dinner break. The next break was at Jullundhar in state of Punjab at 4.30 am. I actually thought it would be another of those 20 min breaks, and so got down to stretch my legs and empty my bowel. I was surprised to notice the driver honking the horn after 5 min. God, is this man crazy. He's been driving for more than 6 hours now. But he seemed to be in hurry. It seemed some kind of race with another bus being on our tail. As soon as this other bus reached Jullunder bus station, off went our bus. The next break was at 6.30 am, and thankfully this time for 20 min. It was a break-fast break. The bus stopped at a Dhaba (roadside eatery which provides parking space). The dhabas in Punjab are known for their food, and i had some delicious and filling aloo paranthas. The bus moved again after 20 min and i slept on my seat (by now almost half the bus had gone empty and so got a full seat to stretch my back. When i got up (actually i was woken up by a lady, since i was occupying 3 seats and she was 1 for her to sit). I realised it was past 8 am and we had entered the state of Jammu and kashmir. The 4 lane road had now become a 2 lane undivided road. The traffic on the road had now more of army vehicles, than i had ever seen before. I knew we are in J&K. And I just realised, the driver was the same. This guy was surely crazy. He had been driving for 10 hours now, and driving with the same speed. He was doing all sort of maneuvers possible with a bus when over taking other vehicles. Sitting just behind him had been exciting uptill now, but now it was getting a bit scary. I wonder the the DTC cant arrange for 2 drivers on such a long route? Well if they can trust this mad man, then so shall I. I have no reason to fear, since he does this everyday. He knows his job, let me trust him. All that gave me some courage and so I didnt change my seats. At 10 am we reached Jammu city after 12 hours of journey. Hey wait a min, i thought it would take 14 hours. The conductor said 14 hours to Katra (the town below Mata's temple). The bus got empty at Jammu. I was the only one who wanted to go to katra. It seemed the driver was little disappointed. He probably thought the bus would get empty at Jammu and then he will have a break itself. But what the hell, we'll go to Katra and then break. I told him we can have a tea break if he wishes to have one, but what the hell. It seemed I was underestimating him, which he couldn't live with. And so off we went to Katra, another 2 hours ride from Jammu, and this time it was all mountain roads. The city of Jammu seemed as if there is some kind of war. All you could see was army. Army trucks, open army jeeps mounted with a machine gun on the top, foot soldiers all along the road, fully dressed in battle gear. And amongst all this our bus sped past them, honking them. Just as we crossed Jammu, the conductor found an empty school bag left behind in the bus. He asked me if it was mine. I denied. In a sensitive state like J&K, this bag could easily be a bomb I thought. Th driver didnt think it was wise enough to stop the bus. The conductor thought it's wise enough to open and check. I thought i need to bend down incase it blasts off. The bag had a notebook and a book in urdu. It seemed some child forgot his bag. Reading the book, it seemed he was a student of primary school, maybe grade 5. Poor kid would be searching for his bag, and will surely be scared of the teacher and later his parents when they will find out he lost it. And here we were thanking our gods, it wasnt a bomb.
The driver asked me if it was my first visit to Mata, i said first in over 10 years. The first time i came was in 1990 when i was a small kid. I visited mata with my family then. he pointed me to a mountain top, with clouds sitting there. Thats where you have to go. He told me I'll get an entry ticket, right where he will drop me, then i have to trek for 14 km up the mountain and show them my ticket. There they will give me another ticket using which i would enter the gufa (cave). The temple is inside the gufa. The driver also told me, that in case i'm done with my darshan (visiting the temple and coming back down to katra), i can catch the same bus back to Delhi tonight. Tonight? " Yes we leave at sharp 10 pm from katra bus stand". Hang on! Is he mad or something. Its 12 noon. We have just finished a 14 hour journey of about 650 km. And he says he will return after exactly 10 hours for another 14 hour and 650 km journey? He nodded his head and said "roz ka kaam hai" ( its his daily job). I got down the bus, and thanked both of them. Thanked them for what? Well i dont know. Maybe for what was going to be the most memorable journey of my life. Or maybe just like that. After all we can thank people for no reason. I thanked them because i felt like. But i was sure im not returning tonight. In any case i'm not taking the 14 km trek right now. I would look some good hotel and sleep and them maybe in the night i'll start the trek. And more over there is suppose to be a 2 day queue. So no way i'll be back tonight.
The yatra begins
Just as I got down the bus, this young boy caught my hand. "Room"??"a/c, non-a/c room"? In such places one doesnt have to look for rooms, the rooms find you. I said yes, but maybe its better to get a ticket first and then get a room for rest."oh that is no problem. Just go into this room and get a ticket and i'll wait for you outside". I went in and i was shocked. I was the only person to get a ticket. The man at the counter was happy to see me. He asked me my name,age and place i came from and there you go i had the ticket. Where is the two day long queue?? I thought maybe its up there, at the entrance of gufa. Just as i came out, this man was waiting for me. I dont know why, i told him i dont need a room to rest, but just a place where i can go to toilet and wash my face, and then i would like to begin my trek right away. I wasnt sure if i was doing the sensible thing, but i was too excited to be sensible then. He then took me to a dharamshala. In india, you would find number of dharamshalas in any religious place. A dharamshala is a place where they dont charge you anything to stay. One can stay for as many days, and they'll not ask for a rupee. But they do ask for donations, if you look like somebody who can pay. I guess its important for people like me to donate at such institutions. Maybe donations like these enable such places to run. Its like a blessing for those poor people who cant afford to pay. Instead of them spending cold mountain nights out in open it's a blessing if they get a room or a dormitory in a dharamshala. I emptied my bowel, washed my face, changed my clothes and donated Rs 51 and thanked everybody there. Although all this took not more than 30 min, and so 51 rupees seemed a bit on higher side, but considering the effect of my donation, i thought maybe i could have given more. More over if i had booked a room, it would easy have cost Rs 300 to Rs 3000. Anyways i was ready to take the yatra. I had light lunch and at 12.50 started me trek. I had heard Mikki bhaiya (my cousin) could trek all the way in 3 hours. I decided to time my trek.
So with one broken knee and about 5 kg of backpack i started. En route were shops playing devotional music of Mata. There were young, old people, people in groups, couples, families. There were people from north India, south and even east. By looking at their clothings, one could tell which part of India they belonged to. Thankfully India is still 'underdeveloped' for not everyone wears jeans and trousers. Each region still has their own dresses own food own language. There were rich and poor too. There were people who walked like me,some who would crawl, some who preferred ponies, some even preferred helicopters. On the way you would have people beating drums. The drum beating becomes an important part of yatra as it keeps you going. When you think of stopping and taking a rest, just then you hear these drums and people chanting 'jai mata di' and signalling you to move on. Everyone does this to everyone. Its like everyone is pushing each other to move on.
I saw a sikh father and son. As it rained in between, the father put a small polythene bag on his son's head. The bag was too small to cover his entire head, instead it just covered his small turban. While some preferred to take shelter in the rain, there were others like me and the little sikh boy, who walked in the rain. I couldnt stop as i was timing myself.
After 3 hrs and 20 min and one 2 min water break i had reached the entrance of temple. 14 km (with 12.5 km being up the hill) in just over 3 hrs wasnt bad i thought.
The entrance also looked comparatively empty. I was given another ticket to proceed, my bag scanned by x-ray machine and i moved on. I deposited my bag and shoes in the cloak room. I was also told to deposit all leather items too. I took out all the money, put it in my pocket and deposited my empty wallet too. At the entrance i was frisked by the army gaurd. Soon i was in a queue which seemed as if it was moving. In India most queues dont seem to move unless you are the first one. But this one did move. Infact it moved too fast. They were right, you can just spend a second in front of Mata and then move. Soon i entered the gufa. There was a pujari sitting in front of Mata's idol and another army personel standing next to him. As the pujari would put a tilak on your forehead, the gaurd would push you out of the gufa. Just as i reached the mata, pujari's tilak got finished. So he had to change his bag of tilak before he could put one on my forehead the the gaurd would push me out. All this gave me well over 5 seconds. Lucky me.
I came out, took my stuff and looked at the time. It was just over 5 pm. The darshan took just 45 min and not 2 days. So what to do now. Well lets down back to Katra. But lets just have a sip of coffee. So i took a nescafe and sat on a pavement looking down the hill, dense forest. I was some monkeys playing. It's one of the great sights to see the monkeys play. So much of energy. How they leap from one tree to other, how they just manage to hang on and not fall, how the little ones just cling onto their mothers.Amazing! My coffee finished, indicating to move on.
This time i decided to take a pony down, as my knee was hurting very badly. I guess the all the timing thing took its toll on my broken knee. The ponywala asked for Rs250 to go down, and he told me its a fixed rate, no bargaining. He also showed me a sign board which had the rate list. Thank god, there is atleast one place in India where you dont have to bargain. More than Rs 250 it would have been the feeling of being cheated which would have caused more damage. But since it was a govt approved rate, i was sure i was not being cheated. A big relief.
As we reached Sanja Chhat ( the highest point of trek) i saw the sun set behind the scattered clouds. Looking down i saw the river Chenab making its way through the hills. It looked like a serpent. The ponywala was a yound boy of Gujjar community. He had a not so normal leg, and so limped. I asked if it pains. He said no, "bachpan se hi aisa ha" (its like this from childhood).
I asked him about the terrorism in the state and whether it had any effect on this temple. I heard what i was expecting to hear. I had heard what so many people had told me. The state of J&K is devastated by islamic terrorists ,but in all the 14 yrs not a single incident has happened in this temple. " Even they know to leave this place alone" he said. I'm still not sure the reason behind this. Maybe its the power of Mata, that nothing has happened here(being unscientific) or maybe something else or maybe just a law of coincidence (being scientific), but its true no incident has happened in last 14 yrs of bloodshed in the state.
I reached down at Katra at 7.30 pm. I was hungry. Had some good food. Its amazing how tasty a simple food may be when one is really hungry. Over the years I had forgotten what being hungry is. Somehow i developed a habit where i would give something to the stomach even before it asked for. I was experiencing something new here. I enjoyed that meal.
Dinner is over, it was 8.30, so what next? Do I look for a room to spend the night? I just remembered what the driver in the afternoon had told me. He would be going back at 10 pm. What the hell, lets take a bus back home. Just then i saw a DTC bus getting ready to leave for Delhi. It was a 9 pm bus. I got onto it.
Day III
Next day at 12 noon i reached Delhi, 15 hours journey, ! hour more than what it took us earlier. Just as we reached Delhi, the bus after us ( the 10 pm bus) also reached, with the same driver in it. I dont remember what happened on the journey way back, because i slept for the entire journey.
Just as i got down this bus, i saw another leaving for Agra. I got onto that and at 3.30 pm was back in college. Charzal was shocked to know I had been to Vaishnodevi and back. I was shocked too. I had travelled about 1800 km in bus, visited one of the most sacred shrines in about 47 hours. My average speed of journey was 38.2 km/hr. My expense of the trip was less than 1000 bucks.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
The problem of conversation
Listening and talking are two components involved in any conversation. Listening is something which is more important than talking, to ensure proper conversation.
How to listen –
I’ve found it very difficult to listen to people. I realized its important to listen without being judgmental or without mixing one’s own views into what is being said. So the problem of how to listen is an important one and concerns each individual (esp those who are getting educated, since listening to the teacher or the writer of a book is an essential part of their life).
The difference between ‘to understand’ and ‘to agree’
We mix the above two phrases to be the same. We somehow believe that to understand is the same as to agree, but there is a distinct and important difference.
When we try to listen to somebody, we need to first understand what is being said. Once we have understood, then we can decide whether is we agree or disagree with what was said. That’s how the sequence is. In fact unless we understand what was said, we simply cannot decide upon agreeing or disagreeing.
This is one common mistake we do. Even before the speaker has uttered a word we tend to take a position whether we would want to agree or disagree with the speaker and then we go about listening to him. If the speaker is a highly qualified person, we would take a different position or if the speaker is of not so favorable image we would take a different position. In both the cases, we run the risk of not understanding (fully or partially) of what was said. In both the cases we tend to listen with a very colored view, judgmental view.
The difference between Word and Meaning
We often also tend to confuse between the words Word and Meaning, when we are trying to listen and as a result a lot of wrong communication (or no communication) takes place.
Let there be two individuals A and B. A is trying to communicate something to B. What A is trying to say is a meaning (say M1). A would choose a word to convey that meaning (say W1). What B hears is a word (say W2) and then deduces a meaning out of it (say M2)
A -----------------------------> B
M1---->W1---------------------------> W2---->M2
So for communication to take place, its important for M1=M2. I’ll explain with a common example, if in college a boy says ‘I love you’ to a girl, its important for the girl to understand the meaning of the word ‘love’ to understand what is being said. It’s important that the girl understands the meaning of ‘love’ which the boy is trying to communicate and not assume it to be any other meaning. It’s possible that the boy is using the word ‘love’ to communicate a feeling of friendship where as the girl is assuming ‘love’ to be something other than that. And in such a case wrong communication is likely to take place.
Role of questions-
Questions play an important role to help bridge the difference between M1 and M2 if any. The listener can always raise questions to get to the right meaning. The important thing to keep in mind here is the purpose of questioning. The purpose is to get to the right meaning, to understand what is being said and NOT to argue or to prove your point. If the listener is asking questions to argue, then it means that he has already taken a stand of disagreement even before understanding. Such a thing only the listener can decide for himself, for only he knows why he is asking the question.
Such cases are very common in are families. The father says something to his daughter, the daughter takes it in a different sense and there is fight. In modern terms such things maybe described as generation gap, but sometimes they are nothing more than a simple problem of word and meaning, a problem of listening.
I feel a lot of our problems of relationship would be resolved if we keep the above two points in mind. A lot of times what we call ego is nothing more than this problem.
Contradictions
I was just thinking and realized about some of a contradictions in our lives. In my view these are some of the many contradictions we live with and we are not even aware of them.
1. I’m not a good son, a good brother, a good boss, a good neighbor but I am a good citizen of this country.
2. I lie daily, I say double meaning words, I am a hypocrite but I am an honest person.
3. I fight with my parents, my girlfriend, my boss, my neighbors but I m a peace loving citizen of a peace loving nation.
4. I want people to be envious of my job, my car, my house, my clothes but jealousy is not part of my personality.
5. Un-iodized salt is risky for health, open drinking water is too dangerous, food served at roadside stalls is unhygienic, but its perfectly fine to sell cigarettes, tobacco, liquor, soft drinks having pesticides in it.
6. I hate
7. I want someone else to clean my house, wash my utensils, laundry my clothes but the city I live in should get rid of its poor....it creates a bad impression.
8. I throw toffee wrappers on street, I don’t take hand bags along when I go hopping but
9. I want to get educated in order to become independent in life, but I am best in copying west for whatever it does.
10. I am really good in making people buy stuff they don’t need (LUX soap, Pepsi drink etc). I make them feel all this would change their life (they'd be as beautiful as Madhuri Dixit or as happy as Shahrukh), .....I make a fool of them to empty their pocket (That is what I am paid for), but when I go to market I am a part of them.
11. Number of hospitals in India have gone up, the standard of hospitals have gone up, the health index of the country has improved but we now have diseases like diabetes, hypertension, cancer which were not heard of one generation back. Children have started wearing specs, they've gone obese, and youths have gray hair, asthma problems.
12. My city has no clean air, clean water, people here live in constant fear, there are bomb blasts every year, but its a better place than a nearby village.
13. I like to use cars n bikes, I use air conditioner extensively, I use poly bags, microwave but I am concerned about the environment, I am all in support of the environmentalists in this world.
14. I use leather wallet, leather belt, leather shoes, I love to eat non-vegetarian food, but I am all for animal protection.
15. Sardar Bhagat Singh, Chandrashekhar Azad, Subhash Bose were all great freedom fighters, but those fighting in Kashmir are terrorists, those in Indian jungles are naxals and those in north-east are insurgents.
16. I respect my mother tongue, everyone should, but my kid would go to an English medium school.
17. There are enough nuclear weapons to destroy the earth 35 times, but the earth can be destroyed at the most once and not more.
18. We are a powerful nation now after having the nuclear bomb, but we are more afraid than we were ever before.
19. I don’t care if politicians are corrupt, I don’t care if people are exploited, I don’t care if there is a blast in Mumbai but when it comes to
20.
Something to think about.....
Thursday, September 27, 2007
That girl at Agra bus station
I was at the transport nagar bus station in agra, waiting for a bus that would take me to my college. My college happened to be right in between the twin cities of Agra and Mathura (25 km from each). While Agra is known for its architecture of moghul period, Mathura is considered a holy city in India. A rickety bus (thats how most buses were in this part of India) came after about 10 min of wait. While i tried to get on the bus, the ticket conductor was trying to push out a girl from the bus. I stood out of the bus gate to wait for the girl to come down and watched was happening. Apparently the girl wanted to go to Mathura but maybe didn't have money to get a ticket. The ticket conductor therefore wanted her to leave the bus, as this was the last bus station in Agra. After this it was a 50 km ride to Mathura and no stoppages in between. The girl on the other hand was trying her best to hang on, pleading to conductor to allow her travel. As it was evening time, soon the night would fall one could understand the desperateness on her part to reach home. But one would understand the conductor's point as this girl could easily be a cheat and nothing more. Moreover if the bus is checked en route, the risks losing his job. I was thinking all this, when finally the girl gave up and came down the bus. I then went in and took a seat. All this hoollah booh had attracted the attention of all the passengers into the scene. i could hear all sorts of whispers in the background, some condemning the conductor and showing sympathy towards the girl, while some being more practical and supporting the conductor. When i took a close look at the girl, i saw she had no shoes/sandals, but she did have some jewelery. Also the girl was not wearing a chunri. A chunri is an add on which women wrap around their neck. Its an add on ok, but it is something which a female would necessarily wear in India. So seeing this female, it looked that things are not normal. Either something is wrong with her or something wrong has happened to her. Anyways, so i was sitting on seat, looking at the girl who was now standing on the road and staring at the bus in anger, and there were passengers looking at her out of the window. As the conductor signaled to the driver to move the bus, the driver asked him what was the matter. This driver was an old man, must be about to retire. The conductor explained to him the situation. The driver thought for a minute and then requested the conductor (more of a command), to allow the girl to travel. In Indian buses, the one who is elder usually commands more respect irrespective of what the job is. And so when the driver asked, the conductor readily accepted it and called the girl to come inside. Not only the conductor, but even some of the passengers signaled out of their windows to the girl to come in. It seemed they were all somewhere within wanting to not leave the poor girl like this, but were just taking a stand. It also seemed that even the conductor was regretting to push the girl out of bus, and was just waiting for someone to request him to change his mind. And so just as the driver made a request, a whole lot of people waved to the girl to come in. When the girl climbed in the bus, the driver signaled her to sit next to him on the bonnet of engine. Its a common practice for passengers in India to sit on the bonnet if a seat is not available. As the girl was trying to settle down, the driver tried to console her and as a sign of it put is hand on her head. India if an elderly puts his hand on somebody's head its regarded as a sign of well wishing or consolation. And just as he put his hand on her head the girl burst out in tears. It seems all this while she was trying to control her tears. It seems the tears were just about ready to come out. It happens with all of us. When we feel humiliated, we want to control our emotions. Not show to people how bad we are feeling inside.And we control them. But when somebody out of no where expresses some kind of solace, one just bursts out. One just lets go what all is within. Something similar i was experiencing that day, though from a distance. I'm sure even the conductor felt relieved that in the end he didn't had to leave her there. People are not bad, nor do they want to be but sometimes they are forced to be. And it must be a big relief if one is somehow saved of doing something bad.
The bus started and i got down at my college after 20 min.
The bus started and i got down at my college after 20 min.
Hyderabadi flavor
I've been in Hyderabad for over a month now, and i am getting to know the taste and names of south Indian food. All that i had in Delhi in the name of south Indian, was not south Indian but maybe a distant relative of the actual food. its difficult to describe in words, but each food has a different flavor than what i know or what i expect. Along with the taste, the names also change here. for example if you order a chapati, you will get a parantha. Alu barota would mean aloo parantha. the quantities which are served also change. As one travels from north to south, one can see the size of the tumbler reducing. In south the glass is almost half the size one would find in north. even the katori (bowl) is halved. I'm still trying to figure out the reason for this.
the hindi spoken here is also different, something not seen anywhere in the country. just like Mumbai which has its own distinct hindi ( with all the new words and slangs which one does not find in any hindi grammar book). Things seem more funny when you hear a sardar (a sikh gentleman) speaks like that. I m not used to hear sardars speak this kind of hindi. In delhi they speak of what would be a mix of hindi and punjabi in a punjabi accent, but here even the accent is Hyderabadi. I still cant help but smile when i remember that sardarji's hindi. I was lucky to have heard him from behind, otherwise i would have laughed onto his face.
The traffic situation in the city is like what it was in delhi a decade ago. while the traffic has increased, the road size remains the same. so if one is on road in the evening when most people leave their offices for home, one would find its faster to walk than drive. As the city is in the process of expanding, you can see its effects on the outskirts, in places where i live. One can see the trees being felled, lakes being filled and huge constructions being undertaken. Something similar must have happened in Delhi too, but i was not witness to that.As Dr. Sangal says, its always good to be a part of time which is seeing a change, because then one knows how things were before the change took place and one can always compare them. However if one is born after the change, then one assumes things to be like they are as they have always been the same.
The place i stay is about 12 km from the main city. It is still quite green in comparison to main city, and as a direct visible result, it rains here every evening, where as the city doesn't witness that. If it pours here, the city would have a mild drizzle. The pouring rain was something i missed in Delhi. I don't remember seeing such a rain on consistent basis in Delhi ever. And therefore its so much obvious for me to enjoy the rain ( jogging or walking in it), while the locals
may feel something is wrong with me. I guess I've been a deprived child when it comes to rain.
the hindi spoken here is also different, something not seen anywhere in the country. just like Mumbai which has its own distinct hindi ( with all the new words and slangs which one does not find in any hindi grammar book). Things seem more funny when you hear a sardar (a sikh gentleman) speaks like that. I m not used to hear sardars speak this kind of hindi. In delhi they speak of what would be a mix of hindi and punjabi in a punjabi accent, but here even the accent is Hyderabadi. I still cant help but smile when i remember that sardarji's hindi. I was lucky to have heard him from behind, otherwise i would have laughed onto his face.
The traffic situation in the city is like what it was in delhi a decade ago. while the traffic has increased, the road size remains the same. so if one is on road in the evening when most people leave their offices for home, one would find its faster to walk than drive. As the city is in the process of expanding, you can see its effects on the outskirts, in places where i live. One can see the trees being felled, lakes being filled and huge constructions being undertaken. Something similar must have happened in Delhi too, but i was not witness to that.As Dr. Sangal says, its always good to be a part of time which is seeing a change, because then one knows how things were before the change took place and one can always compare them. However if one is born after the change, then one assumes things to be like they are as they have always been the same.
The place i stay is about 12 km from the main city. It is still quite green in comparison to main city, and as a direct visible result, it rains here every evening, where as the city doesn't witness that. If it pours here, the city would have a mild drizzle. The pouring rain was something i missed in Delhi. I don't remember seeing such a rain on consistent basis in Delhi ever. And therefore its so much obvious for me to enjoy the rain ( jogging or walking in it), while the locals
may feel something is wrong with me. I guess I've been a deprived child when it comes to rain.
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