Traveling India

अभी कौम नहीं है हमारी

2011-09-01T01:57:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Udaan- as a work of Art

2010-09-01T12:27:00.000-07:00

Udaan- Work of Art

A peep into its morals

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

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

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

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

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

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

Udaan- The movie

2010-08-29T07:17:00.000-07:00

Kahaani khatm hai, yaa shuruaat hone ko hai

Subah hai yeh, yaa raat hone ko hai

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

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

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

Aazaadiyaan!!

Beautiful song

2010-08-25T06:20:00.000-07:00

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

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

आने वाले वक़्त देगा पनाहे
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Tryst with different kinds of Beggars

2010-04-24T21:59:00.000-07:00

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

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

Tourist Beggars: During my stay in SIDH, near Mussoorie i realized that the beggars here are seasonal beggars. They come to Mussoorie during the summer months just like the tourists. And once the tourist season is over, they return to where ever they come from. For them its not only a means to escape the heat waves of the plains but also to earn some money. They move in families.
The lost lady in Agra: When studying in Agra, i met this lady at the Agra bus stand. She was well dressed and looked educated. While i stood waiting for the bus to arrive, she quietly approached me. She said that she is from Mathura, and somehow lost her money. And so needs some money to buy a bus ticket I knew she was lying, somehow the innovatiness forced me to give into her story. I dont remember how much i gave, but it surely was much more than i would give it to a conventional beggar. The best part is, i bumped into the same lady again at the same place after one month. She again approached me and told the same story. This time i had to say no. I told her that i had met you at the same place a month ago. She hurriedly left the place. That day she must have learnt a lesson that she needs to constantly change places or work.
Another lost lady in Delhi: it was the same story this time in Delhi. This rural Haryana lady this time approached me while i was standing outside AIIMS bus stop. She showed me a medical card with something scribbled on it. She even asked me to touch her hand to see for myself that she is running high fever. I didnt do it, but i again gave into the story. This time it was the nature of script and choice of words which was very powerful (and maybe also my liking of the Haryanavi language). Back then, it was my first job. I was working in this Hindi news channel and the notion of short, crisp but powerful scripts was part of my job. I was learning on how to make a News item (usually 30 to 90 seconds long) more interesting by use of words. The script was the most powerful component of the News item. And so this lady's powerful script, her choice of words was what made me give her the money. I knew she was lying, but i wanted to actually believe that she was genuinely lost in Delhi and that my money would have helped her reach home.
This time a couple in Hyderabad: The idea of being lost away from home is fast catching up. This time it was a similar encounter in Hyderabad. As i walked to IIIT, i saw this couple with a small child standing besides the road. The man wore a dhoti kurta and Gandhi cap, while the woman wore a red saree. The style of tying a saree (locally called 'Kaashte ki saree') said they were a Marathi couple. The man was carrying a small baby in his arms. As i came near them, they spoke the first line of the script. I dont remember exactly what it was, but it meant “do you understand Hindi or Marathi, please”. Just one line was powerful enough to stop a stranger who knows either of the language. Short and crisp. I knew for sure that it was not a genuine case of a couple being lost in a city where they dont even know the language. But the opening line and the costume they wore was powerful enough to give me ten rupees to them. I chose not to get into a conversation with them. Somehow i knew the whole script would be very powerful. It would be powerful enough to make me give more money or make me feel horrible for not giving. And so i quietly went to the lady and pressed a ten rupee note into her rough, wrinkled palm. I didnt even dare to look into her eyes. The script, the costume and then the acting (expressions in her eyes) would have been too much. If Shahrukh Khan can read this, the couple were great actors.
The singer who moved people: His was the most meldious voice i have listened in my life. He was a blind man, singing an old hindi film song “Tu ek paisa dega, woh dus lakh dega”. His voice, the rythm and the way he sang it made the whole experience very moving. And it wasnt only me, other people in the train were also moved by it. And the best part is, this man knew perfectly well how talented he was. He had the confidence that he could move people's heart. And therefore he would move very slowly. He would stand at the same place for quite a long time, singing and waiting. And people would sooner or later give up their pretention and take out some coins from their pockets. By the time this man, approached my column, we all were already ready with a coin in our hands. We all loved listening to him, because when he left, we quietly smiled at each other, as if saying the same thing to each other “what a singer”. I remember, when i put the coin in his small, wrinkled palm half cover with a dirty white kurta, i pressed his palm (thankyou, dont go).
The one with Hindi songs in Kerala: This beggar was probably the most interesting i've come across and also the most confident. I was traveling in Kerala in Netravati express (coming from Goa, going to Thrissur). And all of a sudden i hear a beggar singing another of those old hindi songs. At first it all looked normal. The song looked familiar (used my many baggars), the voice was melodious too and there was rythm too. But then all of a sudden it struck me. It was Kerala, a Malayam speaking state, very very far from the Hindi speaking states, and this man chose to sing Hindi songs. Will people even understand the meaning of the song? Why is he not singing some Malayali song? Will that not be more effective? But all logics defied, this man was doing decent business. I dont know if people understood Hindi or not, but they were giving him money. Probably for the same reason, why i gave him. The idea and courage to sing Hindi songs for begging in Kerala.
The English speaking beggar: This was most recent and probably the most hilarious of the lot. A beggar, asking in English. “Dear Sir, just one rupee please” he would smile and say. He did not give the look of someone who is in desperateness, but rather someone who enjoys his work. Or rather more accurately, he had that look in his eyes enjoying to see the amazement in people's eyes. Everyone was just amazed to see an English speaking beggar. And this was not the only line he could say. He could speak other English sentences too. “looking for change in the pocket, madam” or “child give way to pass” were other sentences i heard. This was too tempting for me to resist. I had to, had to give him. We both smiled at each other as if saying, “nice work man”.” thank you”. When he left, a fellow passanger joking said “Angrez chale gaye, ise chhod gaye peeche” and we all laughed.

The two couples

2010-03-27T22:41:00.000-07:00

It was a night of two couples and us.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trip to Pingoli with Kanwarjeet

2009-07-11T10:01:00.001-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dilemmas and Failures

2009-06-15T09:02:00.001-07:00

The last few months (almost an year) has been full of failures and dilemmas for me. I came up with fantastic theories about life, about living and yet when it came to me, i failed to live up to them. I failed in my own theories. And that hit me the hardest. To fail is always painful, but its alright to fail in a concept which was given by someone else. But to fail in one's own concept is like falling in one's own eyes. and it is tough, very tough.

I was (and still am) happy about the concepts I came up with. They were my own concepts. They may not necessarily have been new, but the fact that I discovered them on my own made me proud of myself. It was like stumbling onto some aspect of reality on my own. It was like for once not quoting anyone, but oneself. And the more I thought of those concepts, the more foolproof I found them. I actually thought that they work beautifully well in life. And then came a time, when I myself quit on these very concepts. I for once closed my eyes to the reality I myself had discovered. Like for example I had this concept of 'Not walking out' in a relationship, no matter what happens. I called it the 'Bottom line'. I saw this bottom line in many Indian families, including mine. I saw this man full of anger and helplessness beating his wife on a railway platform. And with each blow he gave to his wife, his anger would increase. He was angry at himself for venting out like this on his wife. And then he stopped, and decided to walk away. He decided to leave his wife and a little kid, and just walk away to a new life, to a new beginning. I saw him walk to the end of the platform and then stop. He stopped. He could not walk away. He stopped, turned back and came back to his wife, who sat there watching him leave. He came back to her, sat next to her and started crying. The wife also joined him, and they both wept quietly. They made their own little corner in the middle of the platform, in middle of people walking, trains coming and they cried. They shared there sadness together. For me that was love and only love. Thank god I m not a feminist (and belong to any other ism), otherwise I could so easily have missed that love and interpreted the whole thing as a form of domestic violence. I only saw love in the whole episode. And my theory of 'Not walking out' in a relation got grounded then.
I saw a very ordinary man, who is probably struggling to even arrange for daily meal, did not walk out. I still believe the promise we give to each other, that no matter what we shall not walk out, is the foundation of any relation. But when it came to my relation, I chose to walk out. I kept telling myself, look you can't walk out, yet I did. It was like killing one's own theory, like proving oneself wrong. It hit me hard, very hard.
I now and sit back and think about what happened. And the only reason Im able to give to myself is that its a matter of gap between 'vichaar' and 'vyavhaar'. We first think, and then we try to bring it into our lives in the form of behavior and work. But there is a journey which needs to be traveled from Vichaar in mind to Vyavhaar in actions and then finally to work in life. And during this journey we learn a lot about the theory, we stumble upon those fine, little points of reality which we had missed. I tell this to myself and feel better about me. I feel its still a journey for me where lot remains to be learnt. And so I tell myself, it's ok to make mistakes. But then am I justifying my mistakes? I keep swinging between these two points, and hence the mood swings.

I thought a million times before putting it on a blog. I will do it today. And no editing this time.

Some left over traces of what we were

2009-02-23T05:18:00.000-08:00

In the middle of the hills lies Timbuktu collective. Timbuktu, originally is a place in Africa which was considered to be far off from 'civilization'. I guess thats why Bablu and Mary decided to name their organization Timbuktu. They probably wanted to to be far away from the modern civilized world. Timbuktu is 7km from Chennekothapalli, the nearest village. It's in Anantpur district in southern Andhra, known for its scanty rainfall. Due to less rain, the villages are located at quite a distance from each other. The nearest metro is Banglore city, about 160km from Chennekothapalli.

It was lunch time, everyone sat together in the Pakriti Badi (nature school), one of the many schools run by Timbuktu collective. Eating with hands somehow made the food even more tasty. As I ate, I watched Subbureddy, serve sambar. He must have been 7 years old. His one arm did not have a wrist, but he was as efficient as others. The other kids too, took him to be just like everyone else. No one thought that he has some body part missing. And so there was no special treatment given to him in their behavior. This gave me a sense of reassurance. I always felt, we lot of times over do our care specially for those whom we feel have been hard hit by nature or society. I feel its a delicate balance one must maintain between taking care and not over caring. And so I called subbureddy. He served me sambar. Then I requested him to give me some water also. He put his bucket down, took the glass from my hand and went to the earthen pot. He kept the glass on floor, then lifted the lid off the pot, put it against his chest and held it using the other hand (the lid placed in between the little chest and the deformed hand). He then lifted the glass and put it inside the pot to fill it with water. And then again kept the glass on the floor. Then he put the lid back on the pot, took the glass and gave it to me. All this was one smooth action. It didnt require any thought from him. It seemed to be hardwired. I thanked him, and kept watching him while he continued serving sambar.

Kalyani took us to a village called Hariamcheruvu, some 7km from Chennekothapalli. We wanted to meet some weavers there. I saw a handloom for the first time in life, and a weaver weaving. It was an amazingly patient and humble job. The weaver would make the saree thread by thread. He would put one thread, then change the whole settings, then place another thread and then change the settings again. They say its a job of a mind which is calm and peaceful. It seemed so true to me seeing the weaver weave. And to have a mind in peace given all the economic hardships they are facing is simply amazing. I can't think of any other word than courage. And I think this courage comes from an underlying faith that things will be good. The faith in future, the faith in nature (or god). I believe its the same faith which Gandhi thought was India's strength.

We also met a shephard in Hariamcheruvu. A shephard is someone who makes threads from wool of sheep. He was 96 years old. He had quit working about 2 years back. He proudly told us that he can still walk, and read (and of course speak). Only recently he started having trouble with his hearing, but if one would speak coming near to him, he would understand. Kalyani asked him, if he still had some hand made thread left with him. He sure did. He started emptying his bag (made of old cloth). He slowly emptied it completely. Right at the bottom was a bundle of thread, he had made it himself from sheep wool. In every marriage this man is required to tie this thread around wrists of the newly wed.

Indian marriages (and even other festivals) are such that it calls for participation from every caste in the village. Caste is actually a poor word to describe the hindi word 'Jaati', which refers to profession. It is said, that 39 'Jaatis' or professions make a village. It means that on average each village would have 39 different kinds of professions in it (some may have more and some less). And so marriage is one such occasion, where each profession would contribute. The contribution of this man was the thread he makes from sheep wool. When he decided to quit working, he made sure he keeps stock of the thread with him. He keeps a list of people in the village who are of marriageable age. He is living for them to get married so that he can perform his duty.

The concept of giving, giving till the last breath is still strong in Indian society. To me it looks like one of the fundamental concept on which a society can be founded. This man was living to give. If someone tells him not to worry about his duty and just relax, Im sure he would die the next day.

Then something happened. I dont know what it was, but this man gave us a small portion of that thread. The thread was the most valuable thing he possessed. He gave a part of it to us. To me it is the most cherished gift I had ever received. I didnt know what to say. There were a few drops that made my eyes wet. We then moved on.

Next we visited a potter family in another village called Polepalli. The old potter was now ill, and so he stopped making pots. So his wife, borrowed some money and bought about 50-100 pots from near by village and stocked them. The reason was same. Just like the shephard, even a potter has a responsibility to perform in marriages (and other festivals). The lady potter wanted to make sure that her husband's retirement does not effect this responsibility adversely. She had borrowed money to make sure the family is able to contribute.

In one of my conversations with Kanwarjit, he had mentioned that its one of the most fundamental needs of humans to share. It's the need to share beyond our family which completes us. And I think this completeness is both as an individual and also as a society. But what we were seeing here was more than sharing. Or shall I say different form of sharing. The usual meaning of sharing is, that one first fulfills ones needs, and then share with others whatever is extra. But here it was different. It came from the concept of first sharing and then consuming whatever is left. This seems to be the foundation of Jajmani, whose trace we were seeing there.

Navjyotiji defines the word Rakshas as, “someone who worries about swayam ki raksha” ( a deamon is the one who is worried about one's welfare). Traditionally the concept has been to leave one's welfare into the hands of others, while accepting the responsibility of a part of others' welfare. The concept has been to give the best product of one's work to others, while keeping the left over for one's consumption. This has also been one of the very few critique of Gandhi I have come across. Gandhi insisted that one must first produce for oneself and then share the rest, while the weavers were of the view that if they take this approach, their profession would die. The profession would die if one starts keeping the best produce for oneself.

I feel there is still so much for me learn (and also un-learn). The prospect of more traveling, or meeting more people excites me more than ever.

The need for a private space

2008-12-03T23:54:00.000-08:00

Private space! What does it mean? Why do we need it so much in today's time? Was its need the same even in previous generations? I do not know.

Me and many people i know of my generation feel a need to that space, which is just reserved for oneself. That one little space, that one little moment where one is just with oneself, where one can fully live an emotion or a thought. A space where not even we ask ourselves why are we thinking a thought or why are we feeling an emotion. It's a space where one faces oneself in the mirror truely. That is probably what this private space gives one.

So where do i get this space? I buy my own house away from my parents, to enjoy this space. Or i have my own room in the family house, which gives me this space. If not even a room, i at least have a few private moments in bathroom, which are just for me exclusively. Every one in my house finds whatever little private space available. I guess everyone needs it as badly as i do.

But there is one person in the house who doesn't have this space. She is Pooja, who has come from Bihar state to help us out in our work. She has traveled almost a thousand miles to wash our plates, to clean our floor, to wash our clothes, to make our beds every morning. And she is learning to do all that slowly. She is learning how i like my food being served, how i like to see my room. She is learning the way i like the sheet tucked in the bed, how i like to see the pillow placed on the bed. She is trying to learn the reason behind why eat different rice, while for her its different. She is trying to learn the meaning of what i mean by the word 'hygiene'. She is learning all that with full details and specifications.

And in between all this learning and making mistakes, she misses her family back in Bihar. She misses the open fields in her village. The idea of concrete walls all around is completely new to her. And so while she misses all that, she might also feel the need of that much valued private space. In my house, she finds that space either in one corner of the kitchen, or in the small balcony in my house or on the stairs in the building in afternoon when no one uses them. These are the places where she sits unnoticed, quietly trying to live the emotions and thoughts which she controls all day.

Dasvidaniya-what does it mean?

2008-11-20T07:44:00.000-08:00

Dasvidaniya! Dasvidaniya. Wondered what it meant. Someone told me its a russian word. I heard this when the movie of this name released. In the film the character while going away from a friend waves and says Dasvidaniya. So i thought means saying bye. The word Alvida came to mind. Then when the movie ends, it says 'Dasvidaniya-The best goodbye ever!'

The best goodbye ever. The best goodbye ever.

I wonder what does the word ever signify here? Will there be no better goodbyes now? or will there be no goodbyes now? Is this goodbye the last goodbye, never to meet again? I still don't know.

Did I scare you?

2008-11-13T04:27:00.000-08:00

It was a winter afternoon in Delhi. The winter sun is really pleasant in Delhi. Most people prefer sitting out in the sun on off days. We were all gathering in our Pitampura house. This is where my grandparents (nana-nani) lived. It was some family occasion, and we were all reaching there from where ever we had been. I was coming from Agra, where my college was.

Just as I entered the building, with my bag on the shoulders I felt as if the elevator had opened and someone just got in. I ran towards it, and just as the door could close, I stuck my arm inside. The door opened again. There was a school girl inside. I walked in.

I kept my bag down, and pressed number 5 for the fifth floor. Since I was coming straight from hostel, I did not get the opportunity to shave for the function. It had been more than a month since I shaved last. And so I had a good healthy beard on me (some people I know, might object to the word healthy here).

I started feeling that my look was making this girl a little uncomfortable. It seemed for her, the elevator was shrinking in size, and she wished for more space. It was also taking its sweet time to climb up to fifth floor. And it seemed unlikely anyone else would join us in it, as we climb up. I looked at this girl (being careful to not stare at her, just look). She seemed to be coming directly from her school, as she still had the uniform on and a little bag on her shoulders. She definetly seemed uncomfortable with me in the elevator. And was probably cursing the elevator for moving too slow. The distance between us would be not have been more than a feet, with only my bag lying in between us.

For some reason I kept looking at her. And she was looking everywhere but me. She looked at the door, then looked up the electronic display to see which floor we had reached. It was still the second floor. Then she looked at her wrist watch. It was a small cute wrist watch, much like those which girls wear. And then again she looked at the electronic display. Maybe she thought of getting down on the next floor itself, and then walk up the stairs. She wanted to take a decision, but she could not. It was one of those moments, where one senses trouble but isn't sure if it is actually trouble. Waiting for the trouble seems suicidal, while the fear of embarrassing oneself when there is actually nothing to fear of is also there. My friend tells me, how often girls face this dilemma in their lives. This girl seemed to be in a similar situation.

I realized me and my beard were making her uncomfortable. And the fact that I was looking right at her were making things worse. But I was still looking at her. To me, it seemed I know her. It seemed that I have seen this girl before, somewhere. It seemed I know this girl. But where? I just couldn't recollect. And while I was trying to recollect, I kept looking at her (which by now would have been staring at her).

"Nancy", I said loudly. She looked at me with a sense of amaze. "Nancy?" (this time it was more of a question. "Jhummu Bhaiya", she said loudly, with a sense of relief and excitement and happiness. It was a mixture of all that. She was my cousin Aditi (fondly called as Nancy in the family, as I was called Jhummu). "Kaisi hai yaar? Did I scare you?". She hugged me. We were meeting after many many years though we lived in the same city. Our mothers were sisters, and we were cousins.

Long time back, our mothers had some difference of opinion as a result we never visited each others' house. As we grew up, we started demanding seeing our cousins, meeting them, but somehow the opportunity never came. This occasion at my grandparents' house was the first such occasion in many years, where the whole family was gathering. And it so happened I met Nancy in the elevator.

The door opened, and we were on the 5th floor. The elevator which was moving too slow just a while back, seemed to have broken the sound barrier and got to the floor in a flash. As we entered the house, the whole family was there. All my uncles, aunts, elder cousins and even the younger ones. My grandparents were having a blast with so many people in there. In all, I think we were 4 generations in that house that day.

Mumbai day II -- Visiting Giriraj, Afghan Church and Hanging Garden

2008-11-03T19:49:00.000-08:00

Day II begins from II Grenadiers mess. I get up early and go for a walk outside. The santri at the gate salutes, saying " Ram Ram saab". Each battalion in army has its own way of wishing each other. I guess for the Grenadiers it is 'Ram Ram'. 'Ram Ram' happens to be a very common form of wishing and greeting each other in western U.P. Once as a kid while I was going to my village along with dad, I remember a muslim man sitting on the way wishing us that way " Ram Ram ji" and my father responded back by saying "Ram Ram ji". I then asked dad, as to why a mussalmaan would also wish taking Ram's name. I don't quite remember his exact answer, but that incident left a mark on me. It just showed the character of our country, our society. We intellectuals can interpret this incident in anyway we wish, but that will not change anything.

Anyways, back to Mumbai Artee had to buy something from Tanishq which was located near Churchgate. I had plans to visit Giriraj who lives near Bombay Hospital, walking distance from Churchgate. So I decided to accompany Artee and Mausiji to Tanishq. It was 10am, and the shop had just opened. As we entered it, I already started feeling out of the place. What was I doing there? As we reached the counter a lady was already sitting there attended by a sales girl. The first sentence I heard in the shop was that of this lady, complaining why the air conditioner was not working. The day had just started, it was hot at all, but this lady wanted an a/c. It simply put me off. I told mausiji that I was leaving and would meet them in afternoon. I just walked out. Walked to Marine lines and sat on the platform facing the sea. Nice breeze blew across my face, and at that time of the day not many people were there. The traffic on the road too was minimal. Sitting there and watching the sea was really good. It was one of the few moments this time when I felt the sense of belonging to the city.

It was 10.30 am by now, and I called Giriraj. We were suppose to meet at 11am. When I had called him yesterday for an appointment, I made sure to use Kanwarjit's name. That made him grant me 30 min on sunday morning. I was to reach at 11 sharp. I walked to Bombay hospital from Marine lines. On reaching the gate of his apartment building, the guard stopped me. I told where I intended to go. On carefully seeing my twice from top to bottom he said ,"Chautha mala" (fourth floor) pointing towards the lift. The word 'mala' is used in Mumbai meaning floor level. In Delhi the for commonly used word is 'manzil'.

I rang the bell at exactly 11am. Giriraj was waiting for me. And we started talking. I spent first 5 min telling about myself, my research area and how Kanwarjit told me about him. After listening to me, he asked me a direct question (not wasting much time) "How can I be of any help?". "oh no no. I dont require any help. I just thought of meeting you. I heard that you had spent some time with Dharampal ji when he was in Wardha. And I thought you would be able to give me some guidance regarding my research area." He looked a little surprised to me. I think he had assumed, I was there for some work. Being a senior IAS officer, many people must be visiting him through some reference for some work or the other. And he thought I was one such person. It took some time for him to realize that I was just visiting him 'Bas Aise Hi'. The concept that someone would visit without an agenda at all seemed so difficult to believe. In modern time, I would be called a 'vella person'.

Well soon he became pretty comfortable and we began talking. I could sense his comfort by his body language. He became a lot more informal now. Folded his legs and sat on the cot. Spread his arms. While he spoke, his hands moved more freely now. I too became a lot relaxed. I bent backwards and used the back rest of the sofa. Soon his wife came and served me Poha. Aaah, lovely. Poha and vada paav were two things I was missing desperately. Soon the 30 min were over, but we were just talking. He was talking about his experience in Yavatmal distt when he was posted there as a collector. His interactions with the farmers and artisans. His interactions with Dharampal ji. His understanding of the Indian culture, and it being a possible solution to all modern day problems. He also talked about the critique of Indian tradition, esp the dalit question. And the major challenge was to mould Indian tradition in todays times. Soon it was over an hour. I was wondering when to ask for leave. He then asked me, "how busy are you today?". "Not much I said". " Good, then lets have lunch together and continue this conversation"....

What to say, I was glad. This man too was enjoying this meeting, just like me. He then went inside and got some old photographs. Then he got a dhoti, which was hand made by some tribals living in Andhra-Orissa border. He showed me the quality of the cloth, and the work which was put in to make that dhoti. We then talked about weavers and other artisans. I told him about this book which Kanwarjit gave me recently 'Art and Swadeshi'. We then had lovely south Indian lunch. And after lunch again we talked. Our 30 min meeting lasted for 2 and half hours. It included a nice yummy poha and a lovely lunch. I was really happy to meet him, and Im sure he too was. He then directed me to the bus stand, and told me which bus to take for Colaba.

I reached back at the mess. In the evening we went to visit Mausaji. Artee also took me to Afgan church, one of the land mark in the cantt area. It was built by the British after the Afghan war. Later in the evening, Artee took me to a drive. We landed at the Hanging garden in Malabar hills. An old Gujju lady guided us to it. It seemed a nice place. A green patch in the middle of concrete jungle. People had come out in the evening for walks. All kinds of them, old couple, kids playing, old parsi women, fat men and women trying to burn body fat. So we decided to walk round the park too. It was too tempting for me, and so I took out my sandals and walked bare feet. I was also trying to see how Artee would react to it. I also wanted to encourage her to walk like that. But she didnt. Then she said, lets walk on the grass. The grass was wet, and I could feel it. It was more fun walking on grass bare feet. I then told her what Abey George told me some months back. I told her, we hardly get a chance to touch soil in our lives. Most of the time we touch concrete or plastic or rubber, but no soil. After this, she too took off her shoes and socks and walked bare feet. I don't know how she felt, but I was really happy to see her 'break free' (in my terms).

We reached back at the hospital by 8pm. Then I had dinner. And then by 9.30pm I decided to leave for Vashi. My mausaji and mausiji there were getting worried. They didnt think much of the idea of me traveling late in the night. I took a bus from R.C church for CST. And then a local train at 10.20pm for Vashi. I reached home at Vashi by 11.30pm. I was glad to see Mausiji and Mausaji. I kind of felt free also. Took off my clothes, with just my chaddi on. I was at home now, kaisi sharam.

Just aise hi.....

2008-11-01T00:57:00.000-07:00

I wrote this letter to a friend, which came out well in the end. And so I thought to post it on the blog too.

Heylos,
Im sitting here wondering what to do. and so i decided to do what i like most, write. just aise hi.....no agenda at all.

let me tell u in detail about my mumbai trip.

day1
i got up at 4.30am. the train was standing at dadar station. it looked so much familiar to me. probably the 4th time i had taken this train to get to dadar at this time of the day. but this time, i was going further. i was to get down at cst (or vt, as most people still call it). reached cst at 5 sharp. got out of the station and asked a person which bus would go to afgan church. he showed me the bus stop from where i will get the bus. there were no buses at that time of the day, but there were taxis. shared taxis calling for navy nagar. they would take just Rs.10 to drop me at afgan church. But then i thought this is too early to go. People wud be sleeping and i wud unnecessarily wake them up. I decided to just wait at the bus stop till day break.

there was another person standing at the bus stop. just the two of us. at first the person looked a guy. short hair, dressed like men, sport shoes. But a more closer look told me she was infact a gal. I love gals who wear sport shoes, and so that brought me a smile on my face. I dont know why, but she resembled artee to me. I had not seen her for some years now. Didnt really know how she looked. and this gal was in some way resembling her. But then if she was artee, she would have recognized me for sure. or is it that I too have changed? The latest pic she saw of me was with beard. This time I had no beard. I kept thinking all this while standing there. she too just stood there at the bus stop. so what was this gal doing so early in the morning? did she come this early to avoid the crowd in local train, or does she like me enjoy the early morning? and why is she waiting at the bus stop? take a cab and go where ever she wants to. maybe she too likes to just sit and watch people come and go.

then from nowhere a little cat came. meow meow!! stood next to me and more of meow meow!! then came two sweepers, who started cleaning the pathway. and then came out the sun. it was day break. good enough time to wake people up even if they are sleeping. and then came my bus. It was route number 125. It was headed to navy nagar, and afgan church was to fall en route. the bus was was Rs.5.

I reached afgan church in less than 10 min. it was the cantonment area. I had never seen Mumbai so green. And i could smell fish. The sea must be really close, I wondered. I called up artee from there. As expected, the lazy bum was sleeping. Good i waited for an hour, I thought. She directed me to walk back on the road, and then take a left before a big tree. I saw the big tree and started walking towards it. For some reason, I saw this army guard standing and I asked him for directions to II granadiers mess. This guy was from Haryana. Just listening to our style of Hindi made me feel so happy. It has been sometime since I heard that accent. And to hear it in a completely unexpected place is so much more fun. Anyways, this chap asked me to just walk straight and not turn anywhere (unlike artee's direction, where I had to turn left). so I just walked straight. And I walked out of the cantt area. I realized, my sis was more intelligent than this chap, and I should have listened to her. So I turned back. I started walking back to that big tree I had left behind. I saw this car coming towards me, really slowly. And just as it approached me, "BEEP! BEEP!", full blast horn. "Arre maine kya kiya, main to side mein hi chal raha tha. the whole road is empty". Must be a lady on the wheel I thought. And I was right. It was Artee. she had come to pick me up. I got in the car. It had been years since we last met. Before I could start yelling on the loud horn thing, she started " I asked u to turn left from big tree....seedha kyun gaya....boom boom!! dhishum dhishum!! rat tat tat!!.....non stop machine gun fire.....ufff!! yeh ladkiya subah subah bhi kitna bol leti hai....

we got back into the mess. and there was mausi ji waiting for us. I touched her feet, and she blessed me with her best wishes. for the next few hours (and then later for next 4 days), Artee's machine gun never stopped. And my ammunition never took off. soon, along with words, she also started throwing things at me. at first the pillow, then deodrant bottles, then whatever she could her hand onto. She had changed. As a kid, she was suppose to be this quiet little gal, who wud never speak, just nod in yes or no or just give a short and quick smile. "kya pagal ho gayi hai kya yeh?", I asked mausiji.

next we went to the naval hospital where mausaji had been admitted. its called the ashvini hospital. its suppose to be one of the two major military hospital in India, the other being R&R hospital in Delhi. It was right at the sea. I have never seen such a clean sea in Mumbai. Its how a sea is suppose to be. There were ships anchored at a distance. The morning sun was beaming down on the waters. This part of the sea, lies of the eastern side of Mumbai. So the reflection of the morning sun was something most Mumbaikars dont get a chance to see. The reflection from the water was so intense, it seemed like driving in front of a high beam truck on the highway, where one doesnt see anything but light. Later I realized there was a light house in the see, which I couldn't see due to this glare.

I met mausaji and Tuhina bhabhi. Mausaji had gone really weak. Had never seen him like this before. He was on bed rest for over a month now. Tuhina bhabhi probably didnt recognize me. The only time we had met earlier was some years back in Meerut. At that time there were too many people, and she could have easily missed me there. This was in a sense our first one on one meeting.

The whole day I spent at the hospital. I was all quiet, and just observing things, people, buildings. The army, had always attracted me as a kid. I was fascinated but almost everything about the forces, their uniform, their hair cut, the way they walked, the way they talked, they stood. All those things had moved me, inspired me for many years. But not this time. It all looked so alien to me this time. It was the first strong indication I got in some years, that I have changed as a person. Something which I was passionate about, something which moved me even in dreams, seemed so ordinary this time. I just could not relate to it anymore. I was surprised to notice this in me. I kept thinking about this thing in the whole of trip.

At the end of day 1, I decided to stay back there for the night. We ordered an extra mattress from the mess and I slept there only.

Trip to Mumbai- Looking West!

2008-10-31T22:04:00.000-07:00

I just returned back from a week long trip to Mumbai. This trip was in a sense completely different from all my previous trips to the city. Either the city had changed, or I was seeing things this time which I missed earlier. Mumbai this time looked more of Bombay. It seemed, everyone there was trying to 'look' like west, trying to 'pretend' like west, trying to 'become' like them.

The man at the ticket window didnt understand which place is CST. When I told him VT, he understood. In the whole of Cantonment region, I didnt find a vada paav seller or a tea stall. Vada paav and tea were something I found every 100 mts in the city. The street market at Colaba, for some reason named cause way. The common term for it has always been 'pattri bazaar'. It took me sometime to figure out what cause way meant. Every second person in the train seemed to be plugged into some music device.

One hoarding near Kurla station station read "learn Hi-Fi English in 30 days". I wondered what the term Hi-Fi meant. And why would this term be so attractive. Isn't learning English attractive enough. I guess not anymore. I'm not sure what exactly they meant by it, but I assume 'Hi-Fi' meant learning all the slangs and also the accent to speak with. The language to me seems to be less important than showing off through it.

I visited a senior IAS officer who lives near Churchgate. My idea was to just go and see him. He took some time to actually believe that someone had come to visit him just like that, no agenda at all. He asked me twice in what way he could help me. And I had to tell him, I was not there for any help. I just happened to be in the area, so I visited him. The good part is, that soon he became comfortable and our planned 30 min meeting went over 2 hours which included a nice lunch too. I guess he too was glad to meet someone who just dropped in "bilkul aise hi".

One morning, I walked in this Tanishq store at Churchgate with my cousin and aunt. A lady who was already there, was complaining about the air conditioner not working. It really pissed me off. Why would one need an a/c in morning. It wasn't hot at all.

So am I judging all these people? What am I complaining about? After all everyone has a right to choose the way they want to. Thats how freedom is defined. well yes ! I guess I'm only saying that this time I felt so much out of place. Mumbai always seemed great to me. I always felt at home in the crowded local. But this time I felt lost. And I guess it showed all over my face. I was more the usual quiet this time.

The part of the trip which I really enjoyed was the sea. I was visiting my uncle at the naval hospital in south Mumbai. This hospital is next to the sea. I loved the time i spent sitting in the hospital grounds, looking at the sea and the ships anchored. This part of the sea, lies of east of Mumbai. So I had the opportunity to see the sun rising from the sea. The reflection of the rays from water was so much, that one could not see the ships anchored.

On my way back, in the train there was this blind man singing and begging. His was the sweetest voice I had ever heard in my life. He was singing some old hindi film song, a sad song. And the way he sang, made it all the more sad. When he approached our column of seats, people stopped talking, and listened to him. The good thing about him was he was walking very slow. So he would spent a good amount of time at each column and then move to the next one. I somehow felt, he had faith in his ability to sing. And he did really sing well. Not only me, but others also felt compelled to give him something. It was something I had not witnessed ever in my life. Such a sweet voice and lovely singing. It seemed I was getting back into my world. My world of ordinary men, of ordinary moments of happiness, of appreciating small incidents happening in my life. I missed them so much in Mumbai this time.

What is India- part II

2008-10-01T03:44:00.000-07:00

This is my second post on the same question, What is India? Who is an Indian? What do I mean when I say "Im proud to be an Indian"?

Today in the Gandhi course, Pranav raised this issue and we had some discussion on it. Though in the end the discussion became a bit aggressive (mainly because of me, dont know what I get aggressive), but the question is still unresolved in my mind. Who am I? What is being Indian?

Prior to 1947, everyone on this part of the world was Indian (or hindustani). Then there was a power struggle and some bad politics was placed, which resulted in modern India and modern Pakistan. Does that change the identity of the people living in it? All of a sudden people in a village became Pakistanis, while half a mile towards east, their friends and relatives continued to be Indians. And in this decision, they had no role to play. If tomorrow say India was to get divided again into India 1 and India 2, then what will I be? Will I still be an Indian? What identity will I give to my children.

This is difficult for me to imagine, but I'm sure it's a real question to the people two generations back who faced partition. This question is also relevant to those living on either side of LOC in Kashmir.

Does our identity come from the 'name' of the land we live in, we were born in, our ancestors belong to? Do we identify ourselves with the land or the 'name' of the land? Do we identify ourselves to land or the people? Am I born in the land called India or am I born in a family, in a society which consists of people. Will I still relate to India the land, if the people change (say we go to Europe and Europeans come here)?

These questions are still unanswered in my mind, and the more I think on it the more aggressive I get. I dont know why.

But if someone was to ask me how to identify Indians, or what is distinct about Indians, then the closest answer I can think of is, Indianess is a way one relates to land. In this region of the world, I feel there is a distinct way of relating to land, of the way one sees land (matr bhoomi). This definition of course does not hold true for those of us who live in cities. But I feel, one who is born in a village, who lives in a village, who does farming, for him there is a distinct relation with land. And this relation is the same in India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Srilanka, Nepal, Bhutan etc. But as I said this is the closest answer I could think of, and its not fully accurate. Im still looking for a better definition of what an Indian is.

Movie wish list

2008-09-23T09:57:00.000-07:00

Im thinking of organizing a film festival in college, and for that I have a few movies in mind. I have managed to get some, but still looking for a few more. Below is the list of movies I'm trying to get, so if anyone has them, please let me know.

Movie wish list
1. Children of Heaven - It's a persian movie. I want one with subtitles.
2. Power of community
3. The constant Gardener
4. Ek Ruka Hua Faisla - It's a hindi remake of 12 angry men
5. Prahaar

First attempt at writing a poem

2008-08-29T13:25:00.000-07:00

I walked down the road
to realize after a while,I was alone
I had walked out of the city
when others were trying to get in

I walked out bcoz I wanted
to be in the wild
the wild wild
and not the cultured wild

The city got too sophisticated for me
there were just too many rules
too much of pretentions
and too many judgments being formed

I wanted to experience the wild
wanted to see the harmony
wanted a breath of fresh air
and so I decided to walk out

The wild is all quiet
and the wild is vast
for the first time I see no walls, no advertisements
I hear no music, no news

But now as I have walked
I find myself alone
no one came with me
I asked no one to come

This loneliness is new to me
it is something I have never experienced
Im too used to people around me
Im used to sound around me

Why am I scared of being alone?
I never thought I would
I was suppose to be strong
but I find myself weak now

I look back at the path I took
I think of going back
but I cant
I cant go back

Why cant I go back
I have developed a disliking to all that
the never ending advertisements
the need to always pretend

but there is another reason which stops me
I fear what will people say
those people whom I had ridiculed
I can't face them

I have stopped now
Im not going forward
neither am I turning back
I stand there and just look around

While I stand wondering
I miss you
I wish you were here with me
Why did you not come along?

Trip to Konkan & Kerela- Day 6

2008-07-24T07:48:00.000-07:00

Entering Kerala-Hindi songs, meeting Kavitha ji and the best compliment i ever got!

I woke up at Mangalore station. Mangalore was to be the last station in state of Karnataka. After this Kerala would start. Thrissur was to come by 12.30pm.

The beggar in the train, was singing an old hindi song. That was totally unexpected and the only reason I could think of was that this beggar was not from Kerala, but from north. I wanted to ask them, but did not. I was conscious, of what people will think of me. I still have the feeling conscious thing left in me. Sometimes I gather courage and do things without bothering much, but sometime like here, I dont take that step.

Around 11.30 I got a call from Abey. He asked me to get down at Shoranur Jn, which was one station before Thrissur. He told me to take a bus from there for Thrissur. His home falls on the Shoranur-Thrissur road. The train had entered Shoranur city and was about to reach the station. I just had a few minutes to pack my stuff and get down.

When I got down, I remembered Kavitha ji was suppose to be here too. She had been coming from Hyderabad, get down at Shoranur and then change trains for her hometown Kannur. And if her train was running on time, she should be at Shoranur now. I called her up, and yes she was there. She told me to come to platform 2. It was so good to meet someone totally unexpectedly, in an unexpected territory. We just kept smiling and laughing again and again. I gave her a book of puzzles for her 5 year old son Anand. I had bought this book in the train.

I got the Thrissur bus, just outside the station. Language was to be a problem here. I had to explain the conductor that I need to get down at Vellapaya before Thrissur. I decided to right the key words on a chit of paper and show it to him.
I wrote: Shoranur Station---> Thrissur bus---> vellapaya

He read that and understood. He said something in Malayalam, which I had no clue of, but I understood what he meant. He was assuring me not to worry. He would let me know, when my stop comes.

This was my first bus ride in Kerala. Here they dont have glass windows. They have kind of a shutter on windows. When it rains, the shutter is pulled down, and otherwise the whole thing is open. The reason for this is, that Kerala can be very humid. Glass would be a very bad material to use to humid climate, especially when you have 50 people sitting in the bus and perspiring. You need a lot of breeze, wind.

I got down at Vellapaya, and took an auto to KILA (Kerala Institute of Local Administration). This is where Abey George works. The guard at the gate, without me saying anything asked me if I was Harsha? yes I am, I said smiling. He said something, which meant follow me. He took me straight into the mess for lunch. He told the lady there, that Im guest of Abey saar, and that Im a vegetarian. The lady served me lunch. It had rice, along with 5-6 other items. All seemed familiar except one. I asked, what that was. Fish, she said. In this part of India, Fish is considered vegetarian. When I asked for water, she served me warm water. In Kerala, they serve warm water with food. All this was new for me.

Then came Abey. I was so happy to see him. He asked me to finish the food fast and then accompany him to a meeting with the local Panchayat. In the car were Jyothi and Arunima. I had met jyothi just once earlier about 10 years back. She had come to her house, and my mom was very happy to know that Abey found his partner. My mom was always worried about him. For me Abey had always been my hero. He was a student of my mom and so would visit our house almost everyday. There he would have long discussions with my father on issues of development, modernity,culture,environment,gandhi and all that. And I would just sit with them and listen. He then one day left for Narmada Bachao Andolan. He returned after a few months, to complete his Phd. He had been my hero since then. We were meeting after 10 years now. I was meeting Arunima, their daughter for the first time. She was 3 years old, and had probably for the first time seen a guy from north.

We all went to the Panchayat office for the meeting. In Kerala, 33% of the state budget is directly distributed to the village panchayat. And so as a result, the panchayats are very strong here. Though most Panchayats either waste the money or spend on the usual things like making roads and all, but for some one who is looking to do good work, alternative work, there is scope. Abey, with this panchayat was working to revive the traditional water harvesting model. Over the years, as a result of concretization, the water table in entire Kerala has gone down. To recover that, water harvesting can prove vital. And so in this regard was this meeting.

I was also happy to know, that his son Adityan who is 6 years old, studies in the village school in Malayalam medium. Which other professor would send his child to a village school? No one does. English medium is what everyone looks for. To see Adityan, was again a sense of reassuring.

The whole evening I spent playing with Adityan and Arunima. Adityan could manage a few english words, while Arunima just talked straight to me in Malayalam. I would not understand a word she would say, but she would still continue to talk. And the only response I had was "..uhh, ha". Sometimes it would be really funny too. Arunima asked me (in Malayalam of course) if I would want to have bath in hot water or cold water? My response was the same, "....uhh, ha". she then ran to her mom in the kitchen and said what kind of answer is that. When Jyothi told me all this, we all laughed loud, with Arunima wondering what is so funny.

Abey was to leave by 11.30 train for Thiruanandpuram. He was to spend a day there and then return the day after. So I had only a couple of hours to talk to him, before he returns. Our conversation started on an unexpected note. He wasn't too happy for the fact that I was taking up Phd. He didnt think much of doing Phds and academicians and also thought that Im taking a big jump from Electronics Engg to Humanities, Indian culture and all that. We had a serious, sometimes heated discussion. In the end we had to stop it, as it was getting late, and he was to get ready. Just as our discussion ended, he said to Jyothi "you know what, he reminds me of Satya ji (my father). The way he speaks, what he speaks, the way he stands everything". I was moved, speechless. We were all quiet for a few seconds. I guess no one knew what to say. It was the best compliment I had ever received in my life. I thought of my mom.

Trip to Konkan & Kerela- Day 5

2008-07-24T06:31:00.000-07:00

I had a train for Thrissur in the night today. The train was from Madgaon. I had planned to spend the day in Panjim, and then take a bus to Madgoan in the evening. The train was at 11.30 in the night.
In the morning, Kanwarjit's uncle and his cousin arrived. Both of them were sikhs. I thought I would ask Kanwarjit, at a suitable time, why he is not a sikh, why he cut his hair? The effects of sikh riots in '84 and then the militancy in Punjab can still be seen. I never found that right moment, where I could have asked this to Kanwarjit. I guess, our friendship still need to build more, before I could ask this.
The whole morning we sat in the kitchen and talked, while it drizzled outside. I must have told Yashoda and Kanwarjit, how happy and inspired I was to see them,their lifestyle. I just felt like telling this to them. Their's was life, I had always thought of living. They slept on the floor, ate on the floor, ate with hands, cooked for themselves, cleaned their house themselves, had no TV. Seeing them, I felt reassured. I felt, yes I wasn't dreaming something unreal. Such a life is possible, and can be lived. There are people living like this. And they are proud of themselves. I was proud of them too.
I asked Kanwarjit, how he managed his finances."Money has always been an issue", he said. But there was no remorse in his voice. It was like saying, although he his struggling for living, but he his happy that he took this life. This was a live example in front of me, where money is a problem, but its not a hindrance to their happiness, to their sense of achievement, to their commitment to nature and society. Its no big deal in the end. I always knew all that in theory, but to see it practically was reassuring.

In the afternoon I went to Panjim city. Went to the Miramar beach again and sat there. Not many people were there at that time of the day. Sometimes I was all alone. The sea was rough. At a distance there were few boys playing football. This is one of the few places in India, where cricket is not seen. I haven't seen anyone in Goa play cricket. Football yes. I found a cyber cafe near Miramar. I had to write a blog. There was so much in me, I had to write all that.

I found Artee online on gtalk. She told me, she has a friend who works in Panjim and gave me her phone number. I called Sharon, told her my name is Harsh and I got your number from Artee. We decided to meet at 3.30 at some restaurant near the boathouse. All this while she kept calling me 'Hari' or 'Harish'. I wanted to correct her, but just felt shy.

I waited outside the Mandovi restaurant, waiting for Sharon to arrive. I would at every woman passing by and wonder if that was her. I had told Sharon, that I m wearing a Khadi Kurta and blue Jeans, so that it would be easy for her to recognize me. I guess, in Panjim I was the only guy in that outfit. Not many people wear a Kurta in the cities. Well, she came and she recognized me. One just needs to look and smile, and not say anything. We then went to this one of the rare vegetarian restaurants. While I had Paav bhaji, Sharon had tea.

At 5.00 I had to reach Kala Academy, where Kanwarjit would meet me along with his son Anant. Anant takes his flute lessons there. There were a lot of children there coming for music or dance lessons. While Anant went for his classes, Kanwarjit and I sat outside talking. It had finally started raining now, the kind of rain I came looking for. Kanwarjit had brought some old puzzles and books which Anant had used. I was to take them to Thrissur for Abey's kids. The idea of passing on the toys from elders to someone young seemed so sensible to me. I always used, toys of my cousins, cricket bat, hockey stick, carrom board etc. Every child in the city need not buy a toy. But then what will happen to the market, to the shops, to the factories?? I can just smile at that....

I took a 7.00 pm shuttle to Madgaon. Roamed around the markets there and then walked to the station. In Madgaon, I saw my first slum in Goa. It was a cluster of 5 houses in between the Apollo hospital and station. The thought of whole Goa being slum free felt so good, but also seemed impossible. I was at the station at 9.30. While entering it, the guards thoroughly checked me and my stuff. They checked my ticket and asked me all sorts of questions. I felt that little sense of fear in me, although I knew I was clean. Why did they pick me out of many others? I still dont know.

My train, Netravati express came on time at 11.30. It had been a long day and I was tired. I just crashed into my birth.

Trip to Konkan & Kerela- Day 4

2008-07-09T01:33:00.000-07:00

At Kudal

In the morning while I woke up I heard the sound of rain. Finally there was some. I have been chasing the rain, but they have been running away from me. I came to Hyderabad from Delhi in the hope that it would rain good,but it did not. Then I took on this trip in the hope of some rain, but it did not. And finally I heard it pouring in the morning. It would be my day today I thought.
When I got up, I realized there was no water. The water did not come and we were careless not to fill a bucket before going to sleep. Bloody hell. I needed to shit badly now that I was off the bed. I could have managed a bath as it was raining outside, but how to manage shitting. I was stuck. The idea of not to shit at all seemed a little too uncomfortable. I thought I could go behind the training centre in the open and use the leaves. But just then I saw an open tank lying in the open. Since it had rained all night, the tank managed to catch hold of some water. And this water would give me liberation.
The breakfast again was that of Vada Paav. Next we went to Konbac office to have a discussion with Sanjeev. As we were to leave today for Goa, we wanted to clear some doubts we had with him before leaving. At his office we saw a familiar face. We seemed familiar too. Hey its the same lady at the resort yesterday. We were so happy to see her again, totally unexpectedly. Her name was Prema, belonged to Delhi and worked with UNDP. Under that she works with many NGOs across the country. One such organization is Pradaan working with tribals of Jhanrkhand and Orissa. Prema was in Konbac to see their bamboo work and see how the tradtional knowledge of the tribals are be made accessible to the market. And so she was here to meet Sanjeev.
Prema too was headed to Goa and she had a cab with her. She offered us a lift and we gladly accepted it.
On our way we stopped at Sawantwadi at a dhaba for lunch. While Prema had a non-veg thali (fish and prawns and mutton, you name it) we had a veg malvani thali. I just tasted a piece of prawn from her thali.
Prema dropped us at Panaji, the capital of Goa. Panaji is on the banks of river Mandovi. We thought to just take a stroll along the river, as it was evening time and then leave for kanwarjit's place. We must have walked for about 40 min, when we reached the sea. It's called the Miramar beach. It is where the river meets the sea, an estuary. I was seeing this for the first time in my life. The slow and quiet meeting of fresh water into the salty water of the sea. We also realized that we had walked across the whole Panaji city.
We then came back to the main bus stand and from there took a bus to Porvorim, where Kanwarjit lives. On the way was a place called Coquirrin, named after a restaurant. Outside the restaurant is a statue of Charles Shobraj seated and handcuffed. I was told be a local that it was here that he was caught for the third time. Charles Shobraj is an infamous murderer and thug, who has number of cases against him in many countries. The India police had caught him twice before and each time he managed to flee from the jail.

Trip to Konkan & Kerela- Day 3

2008-07-09T00:37:00.000-07:00

Kudal-Malvan-Tarkarli-Kudal

i found vada paav at a small tea shop for breakfast. I make a point to not miss them whenever Im in Maharashtra.Nothing cant beat vada paav for me. So we had a lovely breakfast.
Bamboo Meeting-
We then spent a few hours seeing the workshop of Konbac. We were basically accompanying Sanjeev, the director of Konbac, George the person who designs all the artifacts and Himnashu Karve who had come from Pune. Himanshu was some kind of an expert from Pune who was here for some expert advice Konbac needed. Himanshu also happened to know Kanwarjit. We mostly listened quietly to their conversation. Based on that i figured that Konbac is facing mainly four problems with bamboo
1.I a bamboo wall (say a row of 100 bamboos) a few of them (3 out of 100) would get the fungal infection randomly. Konbac had no idea why that was happening and what is to be done for that.
2.To align bamboo pillars (which were to be the building blocks of a structure) was a difficult task.
3.Puncturing bamboo to put of bolt can often cause cracks to develop.
4. I dont rememer the fourth problem. Just slipped out of my mind.

This meeting cum touring happened till 11am when George suddenly suggested us to visit a resort in the village Tarkarli. There a bamboo boat house was being constructed, which we could have a look at. I dont know why, but some how I had assumed that we would be taken to all these constructions sites. But this was a reminder to us that we are now grownups and we need to travel alone. George drew a rough map for us to reach Tarkarli and they dropped us at the Kudal bus station. We were to take a bus from here to Malvan.
The good thing in Maharashtra is the you get state owned buses for every remote village. In fact I m told there is a system of Makaam gadi (makaam means destination and gadi would be bus), where the last bus in the evening would leave for the remotest village in the region, stay there over night and then return the next morning. So we took another of those red ST bus to another town called Malvan. As usual it was another rickety bus, ready to fall apart. Ive started loving them now.
The route from Kudal to Malvan was beeeeuatiful. We were traveling up and down the meadows, plenty of turns and curves and the bus would stop at every village on the way. The villages in this part are beautiful. Right in the middle of forest, one would find some huts and some plane agriculture area. The houses are made in traditional style. They have a slanting roof, where mud tiles are placed on top of another. The slope is such that it is just enough to stops the mud tiles from slipping. The force of friction allows them to hold onto each other. As a result no cement is used in the roof. I was told by an architect that the roof consumes the maximum cement in a house and so this arrangement is not only cheap but a lot more environment friendly. The walls of the houses though was mostly of concrete. That saddened me a bit. Im still looking for a village in India where they have traditional houses,dresses,food etc. I guess i need to go off the road to find one now. The road seemed to have 'modernized' (and concretized) our society.
On the way to Malvan we crossed a river. When i tried to locate it on the map, it showed no river in that region. The water body was definetly too big to be a nullah. Im sure it is a river. We reached Malvan bus stand in about 40 min. From there we took another bus to Tarkarli village, our destination or makaam. Just before reaching Tarkarli the bus with an almost head on collision with a motor cycle. Thankfully there were no major injuries, just a few bruises. We all got down the bus, the two riders were taken to a house next to the road, where an old woman gave something to them to eat. I think it must be something in the kitchen with would prevent infection. As a child my mom used to give me haldi-milk each time I would fall on the road. It is suppose to prevent tetanus. Thankfully in India most of our medicines come from our kitchen and we dont have to depend much on the market for our health. But the sad part is, we dont seem to value this. This knowledge can easily die out with one generation and there may come a time where we would have to rush to a chemist for as small a problem like a cut in the hand. I believe the kitchen has cure for all minor injuries and illness and also for some major illnesses.
Our bus moved forward only when everyone was convinced that the two motor cycle riders are now fine and back in normal senses. In rural India people are still not in too much of hurry and that basic concern for the other is still there.
2 min after that we got down at the MTDC (Maharashtra Tourism Development Corporation) resort in the Tarkarli village. This resort is at the beach where a boat house made of bamboo is being constructed. We had come here to see the construction. At the entrance of the resort there was a sign board saying "entry for only those who are staying". We would not even have been allowed to enter if Konbac had not sent us. I thought its a life time opportunity for me to enjoy a beach resort for free. I dont think I will ever be able to afford a vacation at one ever. And so we made full used of the opportunity. We saw the construction, ate food and then sat on the beach, watching the sea. It was a rough sea as this is the monsoon season. Just as we were sitting there, a woman came and sat next to us. I just turned and said hi to her, to which she also responded with a smile. I guess she must be one of those elites who can afford to stay at a resort like this.

On our way back, we got down half way in a village. We still had time in our hand and so thought to have a closer look at a village. We spent I think an hour, just moving in the village, drinking water from a well, peeping into a school classroom. We then caught another bus back to Kudal.

Trip to Konkan and Kerela- Day 1&2

2008-07-08T23:36:00.000-07:00

Hyd-Belgaum

We took the Rayalseema express from Lingampally station in Hyderabad. Before leaving i checked the train schedule. it stopped after every 30 min on average. I was very happy to see that. It meant spending more time in the country side, getting down at all those small stations.
Next day in the morning, after crossing Hubli the forests started. I have not seen a greener India in my life. The train slowly moved right through the jungle area, with light drizzle all along. This was like a meadow area, all up and down. In between there would be small farms. Because of the slopy terrain, people do step farming here, much like in the lower Himalayas. The farmers working in the field were using a jute bag covering their back as a rain coat. I think the crop they were sowing was rice, and so that would mean spend the whole day bending down and sowing seeds. Only the back is then exposed to the sky and hence the rain. And so a jute back on the back acts like a raincoat.
In the train we met Nezar Karam, a Sudanese national. I would have mistaken him for any other south indian had he not said he is from Sudan. He had been in India for a over a month and traveling, traveling alone. He was headed for Goa. He would have got down at a station named Londa and from there taken a bus to Madgaon. He told me about Sudan. They recently found oil, and so the economy is now booming. Even many Indian firms are investing in Sudan. I asked about Darfur, as Sudan is in news only for that here. He said Darfur is like Kashmir in India, at one end of the country. What happens in Darfur is restricted to that area only. He said it takes a 7 day drive by car to reach Darfur from Khartoum, the capital of Sudan.

We reached Belgaum at noon. Beautiful weather, nice quite town, the highest point in this region.We had a nice lunch and then took a Goa state transport bus to Sawantwadi in Maharashtra.

Sanwantwadi-Kudal

We met Kanwarjeet at the Sawantwadi bus station. We thought we would go to his place in Goa, but he had other plans for us. He told us to leave for a small town Kudal right away. We were to stay there for 2 days, see the bamboo constructions in nearby villages and then return to Goa at his place. He quickly made a map for us, and guided us to the bus which was leaving for Kudal. And so off we went to Kudal, totally unplanned, completely new territory. I sure was excited.
We stayed at the training centre of Konbac. Konbac stands for Konkan Bamboo and Cane development centre. I guess its a govt fundede organization working in Bamboo in the Konkan region. They have a training centre where they train the local people to make different artifacts of bamboo.

Whats behind the dustbin??!!

2008-05-17T03:28:00.000-07:00

India is a dirty country. There is garbage out everywhere in open. Why don't we have bins everywhere? why don't we throw our waste in the bins?
I met Abhinav in SIDH, Mussorie and we spent some time together. He was one of those NRI kids who had an urge to travel India, to know what India is, to know why India is the way it is, to look for their roots. Both of us had gone to SIDH with the similar objective. Interacting with him, also gave me an insight into the first world. Abhinav lived in Canada, and at that time was visiting India.
So where do you people throw your waste, I asked him. Bin was the answer. All the wasted produced goes in the Bin. The laws are followed strictly there. There are heavy fines for someone caught littering in open. Also the people there value their clean streets. But is that the end of story? Is throwing your waste in the dustbin the end of the problem? Pawanji asked us these questions. He told us to find what happens to the bin when it is full.
The west is consuming at an alarming rate and this consumption is their symbol of development. But with high consumption comes high waste production, and waste disposal is therefore a huge problem. Throwing the waste in the bin is not the end of the story. Every morning the bin is empty. So where did the waste go from there? Evaporated? Buried? Or recycled?
The first world exports its waste to the third world, mainly to nations in Africa. Ship loads of waste, all kinds of waste (plastic, electronic, chemical, biological and perhaps even nuclear) are shipped off to Africa. We are talking in the magnitude of tens of thousands of tonnes of waste. All that shipped to Africa.
So why would an African nation take all that waste? In exchange of the aid given by west. The western donors give a lot of aid in terms of food,medicines, relief materials and in exchange they serve as their bin. Africa is fast becoming a global bin. All that we throw in our neighbourhood bin, lands up in some African village.
To throw one's waste in the bin is not the end of it. We need to talk about consumption and production of waste. Endless consumption leads to production of huge amounts of waste. The neighborhood bin is not big enough to handle our waste.

What about recycling? Why don't we recycle our waste?
I feel thats another strong myth we all have, that recycling is the end of the problem. In nature there is nothing as recycling. The natural process is called 'Avartansheel' process. Interestingly, I have not come across and English word for that. 'Avartansheel is something more that recycling'. Lets take the example of a tree. You sow a seed, it grows into a plant and then a tree. It then gives flowers and fruits and through them we get the seed back. This will be termed as a cyclic process. But in this process, all the units involved are getting enriched. The soil, water, air ,tree, seed all of them are more enriched at the end of the cycle. So, in 'Avartansheel' process not only recycling is taking place but also enrichment is happening simultaneously. Lets now compare it with the recycling of plastic or paper. By the end of recycling plastic, what is get is a degraded quality of plastic (and not enriched). And the other units like water get polluted. The same is the case with paper or any other product which is recycled. The process of recycling not enough, nothing short of 'Avartansheel' process will do. Otherwise it is simply converting one kind of environmental problem to another.

So throwing things in the bin or assuming that recycling is the answer will not do. We have to talk about our consumption and waste production. Our generation cannot afford to runaway from this problem. Im not saying lets start throwing our waste in open, but throwing something in the bin is not the end of it. We have to start taking stock of our consumption NOW.

Learning Samskritam

2008-05-04T07:00:00.000-07:00

Last week I saw a pamphlet in Navjyoti ji's room. It talked of a 5 day residential Sanskrit learning shivir. To learn Indian languages has been in my plans for a long time, but I never considered Sanskrit among them. I never knew anyone who would speak Sanskrit and would be ready to teach me. So seeing this pamphlet I thought to give it a try. The cost of shivir for just Rs.150 for 5 days, something which I could afford. I also thought, learning Sanskrit could provide me the base to learn more Indian languages as it is the mother of all languages. I asked Navjyoti ji about it and he readily agreed for me to go there.

The shivir was organized in a Sai Dham ashram in a village on outskirts of Hyderabad. The venue was an added incentive for me. I thought it would give me another experience of spending some time in rural Andhra and therefore learn more about the local way of living. While on my way to the venue I thought not more than 5 people would be present. After all who would be interested in learning Sanskrit when better options like French, German and English were available. Maybe a few old people who have retired from jobs would come for such a workshop.

When I reached there I was surprised to see the number of people who had come. There must have been around 60 people, as young as Pranav who studied in class VII and as old a few people of my grandparents' age. I was also happy to see Prashant and Lini there. I knew then already from IIIT. When I reached there, a lecture was being delivered by a swami ji. He was speaking in Sanskrit, and I understood almost nothing of what he said.

Our classes started around 11am on the first day. I was looking forward to their way of teaching a language. To be able to learn a language in just 5 days was something I wanted to see how. The golden rule of the shivir was to speak in Sanskrit. Only in Sanskrit for the next 5 days, whether we are in class or outside. How would I do that when I don't know Sanskrit. Well you speak while enacting the actions. So for example if I'm asking for water, I enact out water and use the word 'Jalam' for it. If I don't know the word 'Jalam', then by the response from the other person I will get to know that water means 'Jalam'. I would also know the use of the word 'Jalam'. Our teacher Devki said, "we teach language the way a mother teaches it to her child, through actions". We all learned our languages not from grammar books but by observing our parents, by them enacting to us what they wanted to communicate. When I see my young nephew who is still learning our language, actions is what he uses to describe things to us. Thats the way you learn a language.

So the next 5 days were very interesting for me. We were speaking,acting,making mistakes and laughing. All that made us think in Sanskrit. Our time-table of the was also well packed. We would get up at 5am and sleep by 10 in the night. The Ashram was 10km from a near by village named Keesara. It was on top of a hill with hills all around. I asked Sanjeev Mahodaya (who was one of the organizers) next day in the morning about arrangements of toilet. He said I could just go anywhere. I just need to pick a bucket and walk in any direction, find a suitable place and then do the needful. When I asked about bathing, same was his answer. I could just fill my bucket and take bath in the open. WOW! thats what I was looking for. I have had not had this experience of going out in the field and bathing in open for some years now. The only place I find this luxury is in my village. I used it to the fullest here. This of course meant regularizing my diet. I could not afford to over-eat or eat at wrong timings. I cannot afford to have pressure at anytime of the day. I could also not afford to not have pressure at 5 in the morning. Luckily it all went well. I ate regularly, and it just went fine. A few steps closer to natural living.

Being there I also got an insight of Andhra way of eating food. The meals are eaten in number of courses. First rice if served along with dry vegetable and chutney. Once you have done with that, more rice would be served, this time with Sambar. Mind you, there are no bowls or spoons. The only utensil they have is a plate and they prefer eating with hands. So rice and Sambar is mixed well and eaten. When done with that, more rice is served with buttermilk. I do not know the local name of buttermilk, but since we were speaking in sanskrit it was referred as 'takram'. Rice was 'annam', dry vegetable was 'vyanjanam' and sambar was 'shakanam'. Water was of couse 'jalam'. This style of eating is quite different from north Indian way of eating. In north chapati (Indian bread) is a must in any meal, which is something not seen in south. Also in north people just eat everything together. So this experience was something new and wonderful for me. The food was more than usual spicy for me.

This shivir was organized by an organization named Sanskrit Bharti. In Sanskrit they see immense potential. A lady told us that the nation of Israel was built around Hebrew language. Few people spent their entire lives simplifying Hebrew and making it the national language and around that they were able to built a whole nation. Using Sanskrit, re-uniting the whole Bharat seemed one of the objectives. There was also a strong belief that chanting of Sanskrit slokas is good for mind, body and environment. And then there are the vedas. A lot of people including myself who believe the vedas have a lot of knowledge in them which needs to be explored. And to do that Sanskrit is the medium. So Sanskrit there was something more than a language. It was a means to save our culture.

For me there was another interesting observation. I got a feel of what traditional Indian way of knowing is and I could compare it with modern way of understanding things. The way I was grown up, I developed a habit of understanding things through logic. It is called the rationale way of thinking. That's how we understand things, and that how we believe things can be understood. But there has been another way of understanding which is seen in Indian tradition and also in Buddist. This is by first completely submitting oneself to what is being said. To completely being the way it is required to understand. And then have faith and patience both that understanding will come. In this method, faith is the most important thing to start with. You can not start by doubting the proposal. Where as in modern style, raising questions becomes an important part of learning.

I found myself devided between these two processes. I could not think of understanding by any other method than reasoning. But I could not neglect the traditional method too as I know people who have understood things using this method. For me, the 5 days were a struggle to decide what method I should adopt when listening to all that was talked about there.

The shivir also gave an opportunity to make new friends. Spending time together and learning a language made us gel together well. We all enjoyed each other's company.

What is a country? What is India?

2008-04-24T07:10:00.001-07:00

What is India? How do we define it? Who is an Indian? Amitabh (Mitu) asked me these questions about 2 years back when I was at SIDH. The larger question was how do we define a nation, and more specifically how to define India? India still can be defined to an extent, but how to define Hindustan or Bharat? These questions have been bothering me for sometime now.

I thought of number of possible parameters that can be used to define a nation. The parameters of culture, language, geographical boundaries, religion, the way people look etc. But they all seem to fail when it comes to defining Bharat. The culture at a level changes every 10 miles in any direction one travels. Yet at the same point the deeper culture remains same here, in Pakistan, Bangladesh or any country in this region. The same is the case with language. Geographical boundaries are also no barriers. Be it the mountains or the seas, Bharat extends beyond them. Religion is again that changes from neighbors to regions. So how do we define our country? Where do we draw the borders on the map. Interestingly the borders of present day India were not drawn by any Indian. Our borders were drawn by British officers. The validity of parameters based on which they drew the line is for us to decide individually.

I read a blog recently which was written on the Tibet issue. The writer of the blog wondered why India is failing to take a stand on Tibet? What stand should India take, I thought. The Chinese have reasons of their own to believe Tibet to be part of them. The Tibetans have reasons to have a free nation. How would a third party like India decide whose reasons are more genuine?Will the parameters we choose to take sides, remain the same when it comes to some other country or even within India?

From an individual perspective the question is where do we relate ourselves and where we do not? We relate to any reported incident in a village in Punjab, but going further west a few miles there might be another village in Punjab (Pakistan) for which we may not feel concerned. How did we draw this line in our minds? Tomorrow if another division happens in the country, will we stop relating to another set of people?

So why does an individual like me worry about all these questions? Why don't I leave this for the politicians or bureaucrats? At an individual level I think it's a matter of my identity. It's how I identify myself. The answers to these questions may not effect my salary or my grades in anyway, but it is true I can't let them remain answered. All my fight for grades and packages is for my identity, and this is one of the fundamental issue relating to what I am.

The questions still remain. What is India? Where does it start and where does it end? Who is an Indian? Who am I?

Death of Mahashay Sadaram Arya

2008-04-16T02:15:00.000-07:00

It was september 1997. One month had passed since my father passed away. I was 15 years old then. School had started again and I was trying to get back into normal life. My friends at school were proving to be a great support. Incidently two of them had also been in the situation I was in now. Their father had also passed away in the last few years. Their support in the class was proving invaluable to me. On the other hand I was acting the brave boy. I would smile at anyone who would stop and talk to me. Before they could ask about my well being, I would promptly ask about theirs.

One month had passed. It was a hot september afternoon. I had just returned from school. My mom was at work. She had prepared lunch for me in the morning itself and left for work. I only had to take shower and then eat the lunch. This had been our usual schedule in the afternoon. I had just entered my home, was just surfing the TV channels when the door bell rang. I wasn't expecting anyone. As I opened the door I saw Mahashay Sadaram Arya standing there. He was an old man from Haryana. Mahashay is the title used in the state of Haryana and West U.P which signifies 'respected gentleman'. This title is usually used for an elderly person in the village who commands respect. Somebody people look upto for advice in village matters or even personal matters.

For people like him nothing more is more important than defending the integrity of this title. No amount of money or any other incentive would prove effective when it comes to influencing their descision in village matters. In a village, such people will hold lot more integrity than the local judge or lawyer.

Sadaram ji had great respect for my father. He considered him like his son. He would often visit our home and have long discussions on the present state of the country, the youth and the possible solutions. In Jeevan Vidya he saw the potential to give right understanding to the youth. His biggest worry was the disorientation of the village youth towards their village, their culture and unusual fascination towards city life. He called it the 'trouser culture'. The steady decline in the interest in farming was something that really worried him. In discussions with my father he saw some kind of hope for future. And so Mahashay Sadaram Arya was very fond of my dad. He was fond of me too. But I disliked him. I disliked him, because he was a typical village elder and I was growing into a modern boy. His expectations bothered me and my freedom worried him. While he expected a young boy like me should learn and appreciate the art of touching feet of elders, to me that looked an act of curbing my freedom. So while everytime I touched his feet the way my father wanted but in me I always felt uncomfortable. The act of bending down in front of someone and touching his feet seemed an interferance in my freedom.

Anyways, so this man was standing out at the door happy to see me. I too smiled back at him (with a little sense of discomfort in me). This time there was no dad who would ask me to touch his feet. Therefore the responsibility fell on me. I bent down and touched his feet. He gave me his blessings. I led him inside our house into the drawing room. It was a hot day and his face was red. I offered him some water and then sat on the sofa in front of him. We were both sitting quietly waiting for the other to start a conversation. He broke the silence by asking how my school was and how my studies were going. I had the usual readymade replies for such questions. I answered them promptly with an artificial smile. There was again a period of silence.

I was expecting him to mention a word about my father. Something of a sort that how bad he felt to hear the news of his demise. But he wasn't saying a word. I thought maybe he gathering some courage to speak to me about him. He then spoke." Please call your father and inform him about me. Please ask him if he could come a little early from office. I want to discuss something important with him".

I didn't know what to say. This man had come to meet my father. He had no clue that he had passed away just a month back. We had sent a letter to everyone informing about the demise, but I guess the letter never reached his village. The Indian postal system cannot be fully trusted when it comes to delivering important letters.
This situation was new to me. I had to inform somebody in person about my father's death. I just didn't know what to say, what words to speak. I kept quiet for what could have been the longest one minute in my life. I was looking at him and he was looking at me. He was probably wondering why I am not picking the phone and calling my father.

I then spoke."Don't you know? Did you not recieve the post card? My father died last month".

There was complete silence in the room. I could hear the sound of fan. This old man had completely gone quiet. His face got more red. He just sat there without making any sound. His eyes were wide open. He was looking at something, not me.

I slowly started feeling bad. It felt as if I gave this man a shock of his life. A shock he was not prepared for. We just sat there quietly facing each other. No one said anything. He then got up. "I should leave now", he said. He then moved towards the door. He stopped, turned back and put his hand on my head. It was a gesture of giving me good wishes. He then went away, went back to his village in Haryana from where he had come.

I was wondering what was going inside him. He must have had lots of plans for his village, all of which must have come crashing down. The problem of disoriented youth all of sudden must have become huge. When he would reach back home in the evening people would ask about the meeting. What will he tell them?? I kept thinking on all that the whole day. That was probably the first time I cursed the postal department. Why did the post card not reach him??

Few days past by since that day. One day I recieved a post card. It said, " With great greif we inform you about the sad demise of Mahashay Sadaram Arya". The old man had died within a month of that incident. The postal department did not miss the letter this time thankfully. I had tears in my eyes.

It's been more than 10 years now since this incident happened. Mahashay Sadaram Arya's face is still clear to me. I still remember the details of that day.

The Blue Tooth way of touching feet

2008-04-03T01:13:00.000-07:00

I was at home last week. It was good to be back with the family after a long time. The entire family was there over the dinner on 29th March. Usually it's unlikely in our family for everyone to be present together at the same time in the house and have dinner. So this was one such not so often occasion. And boy we did have fun. Lots of chit chatting, lots of leg pulling and lots of jokes.

Amongst all those funny conversation, one such conversation tinkled a bell in me which I thought is worth sharing on this platform. It was about the Blue tooth technology. For those who may not be aware of what Blue tooth refers to, let me just mention a line for it. Blue tooth is a technology, where two electronic devices can interact with each other, without any physical contact between them. This technology is commonly used in mobile phones these days. If two phones are in vicinity of each other, then using Blue tooth they can exchange data from one another. And for this purpose physical contact is not necessary.

Anyways, coming back to our family talk, my brother tried to show the extension of this technology in our relations. He described, what he termed "The blue tooth way of touching feet".
It's a common practice in Indian families to touch the feet of any elderly person one meets. The method of touching feet has however changed over the years. The original method was to bend fully and massage both the legs of the elderly. This massage giving would last for half a minute to one minute. The elderly person meanwhile showers the youngsters with all the best wishes he can think of. This method over the years 'evolved' into a method where the youngster bends down fully and touches both the feet with both hands. The time reduced from half a minute to about 10 seconds. And in these few seconds, the elderly would shower whatever best wishes he can think of. The massaging of feet vanished. Further 'evolution' meant, the youngsters now would bend and touch any one foot with any one hand. The time of the process further decreased. Moving further into time, the youngsters would now just half bend, and touch the knees of the elderly with one hand, instead of the feet. The time taken would be in order of couple of seconds. And now the latest thing is to touch the feet using Blue tooth. The youngster just pretends to bend, with one hand pointing towards the feet of elderly. There would be no physical contact. The hand and the feet would be in vicinity of each other. Similarly the elderly would just keep his hand over the youngster's head and not touch it. My brother termed this as 'The Blue tooth way of touching feet'.

My Nani (grandmother) had a great laugh over this. She is the only one in the family who has witnessed the massaging method of feet touching. My brothers and I only know the latest two forms described.

The dead phone

2008-03-10T11:11:00.000-07:00

My phone went dead a few days back and as a result I lost all the contact numbers in it. I then wrote a mail to all my friends informing about the incident and asking their numbers. Some of the responses I got were interesting, and so I thought to write a post on it.
The following is what I wrote, followed by some of the responses I got.

"dear friends,
due to the sad demise of my phone yesterday i have lost all my contact details. it would be great if u can mail me your phone numbers. sorry for the trouble.
also i may not be available on phone for few days (till i fix this one or buy a new set). till then please feel free to contact me over email."

and the responses were.......

>ooops dude what happened to your phone....
9818588696 my working cell phone number
26411199
41622329 my resi numbers>

>I can just picture the jaspal bhatti episode, in which his phone is declared 'dead' ..safed chaddar... mourners.. gali ke sab log aate hein afsos dene... hehe..
My number in UK is - 0044-7747031399
And my number in India is / was - 0091-9818333036
chal ja naya phone khareed ab.. yeh sab natak issi liye tha na.. kyunki tujhe naya phone chahiye tha... i tell you kids these days..

>9966162734

>9885078508
......... not a single word of sympathy.SOB! SOB!

>bahut dukh huaa jaan kar bhai....chal koi nahin himmat rakh upar wala sab sahi karega....waise mera number store kar lena...its 9899099849.

>Dear Harsh,
Jaihind!
Sorry to hear about the sad 'demise' of your cell phone. Yes, it is a disastewr these days. Hope you would be able to fix it.
Here are my contact numbers:
Mobile: 093123 23702

>ha......ha.........ha......... :)
condolences..... :(
may ur mobile rest in peace..........
according 2 me ....everything in our life has got an ultimatum.......ie; there is a limit for using things ....whether eating or using......i think ur mobile might have reached that ultimatum...by usage. U might have used to its max capacity..and so it decided to rest in peace........
well......my no is : 9966655730
.....first you laugh, and then you give condolence and then lecture

>hey i read that as "Warm regrets" haha...my phone number is 9871311353

>my due condolence 4 ur mobile..........
my d way mt no. is 09425562690....
pls do in4m as soon as dis problm gets sorted......
....it took me 4 days to figure out that in4m is short for inform

>do u really want our no.s?
........ this was one of the best. notice i still dont have her number. also notice the word 'our'. how many are you?? biharis are never alone.

>I am sure you must have done something to it... any way heres mine
9833975345"

>Nalayak, Phone kahan de diya tha?? Abhi jaldi se theek karwa kar phone karna iss no par... 09971176672
......kaha diya tha ka kya matlab hai. hadh hai matlab batameezi ki.

>What happened to ur phone? abhi to ek saal bhi nahi hua tha..
nd wat did d nokia care guys say abt it?
.....where is the number???

>Hi,
where have u lost ur phone??My no. is 9740444775..
........I DID NOT LOSE IT.

>Hows it going? well.. the number is... +91 9980331167 you can save it now! and lemme know yours if you are getting a new one..
by the way.. if i may ask.. how did the sad demise happen ? tervi kab hai? :P

>Oye kya ho gaya aapke phone ko…..jab bhi main decide karti hu aaapko call karne ko tabhi aapka cell maar jata hai……. J very bad aur batao kya haal chaal hai…sab kuc mast???
........ arre as if my phone dies every month. people she never calls me, just gives plain excuses. and notice even here she did not give her number.

Some one special at AIIMS bus stop...Taare Zameen Par part-III

2008-03-05T04:40:00.000-08:00

It was a nice sunny winter afternoon in December. I was standing at the AIIMS bus stop in Delhi. I was waiting for a bus which would take me to Noida, my work place. The winter afternoons are quite pleasant in Delhi. It is real fun to enjoy the sun. This is the only time of year in India, when people can enjoy sun. All other time, it is the sun which enjoys people. My shift was to start at 4pm and it was only 2pm now. The journey to office was not more than 40min. I am one of those who take one's own sweet time to reach work. I never got late for work, but I have never been in a hurry. I always started way before time from home, and would take my own sweet time to travel. I would happily let the crowded buses go by and wait for an empty bus. On my route usually 2-3 packed privately owned buses would be followed by one empty DTC bus (government owned). And while I would wait for my bus, I would enjoy the afternoon sun and also the people.
The AIIMS bus stop that time was my favorite hang out place. Lot of people would come and go and I would just observe them. I would eat nice warm moongfalis (peanuts) while doing this. Sometimes on Sundays Gayatri would come and join me as her house was right behind the bus stop. Since I worked in a news channel then, Sundays was working for me. I think my off that time was on Friday.
This must have been a weekday, as I was not expecting Gayatri to give me company that day. As I stood there watching buses come and go, a girl came and stood by me. She seemed fairly dressed and educated. She then asked me if bus number 544 would come here. When she asked this question, she seemed to be looking at something else. It was like she is looking across the street and asking me. At first I got confused if the question was meant for me. But as I was the only one at the proximity of her voice, I replied back,"Jee haa. yahi pe aayegi". To this she replied, "Jab aayegi to please bata dena." I was now sure that the question was addressed to me. But she was still looking across the street while talking to me. And moreover why should I tell her when the bus comes? Can't she for herself see it? She looked literate enough to read the numbers on the bus.
In India, its a common habit on our part to not look into the eyes when talking to a stranger of opposite sex. I thought probably thats the case here. Maybe this girl is a little too shy to look at me and speak. But she seemed more than being a shy person. While speaking she never stood still. She kept shifting her weight from one leg to other much too often. It was like she is dancing to some music. And she kept adjusting her chunni (a wrap around) much too often. I could figure out something was not normal here, but exactly what I did not know. Moreover why should I fear from a girl I thought. She should fear from me (specially with my bearded look).
While we waited for our buses, this girl stood a little too close to me. Normally we maintain an extra distance if standing to a stranger of opposite sex. She stood so close, that she even bumped into me once while looking at something across the street. All this was surely new to me, and I knew she is not normal. I thought she could be blind, but never dared to look into her eyes to confirm that. Usually blind people wear dark goggles and carry a stick with them. She didn't have any.
Just then a bus approached us and she asked excitedly. "544? 544?" Why is she asking, cant she see it, I thought? As I did not respond, her excitement grew and she asked again "yeh 544 to nahi hai?". And this time she held my hand. As if forcing me to respond quickly, else she might miss her bus. This was really unusual. I never even dared to hold my girlfriend's hand in public. Is she crazy or what.
Well yes she was. I realized she was one of those 'special' people who have had a stunted mental growth. While their body has grown to take an adult form, their mind is still between a child and an adult. These people are not crazy. They are like young adults.
Seeing this I replied "nahi nahi mudrika hai. aap chinta mat kijiye, main aapko bata dunga jab 544 aayegi?" I was feeling a lot relaxed now. All my doubts had gone. I was there with someone special that day. I was feeling relieved to not have jumped to any wrong conclusions about this person. I was feeling happy that destiny had given this chance to me. I was also being careful in not showing over care towards her. The fact she has chosen to travel alone means she is confident of herself. Let me not break that confidence by over care I thought. I was also happy to see, that this girl trusts people on street. She has this confidence that she will be safe. She had confidence in me. All this made me smile. I just stood there and smiled, while she stood right next to me still looking across the road.
Just then my bus came, bus to Noida. This was a DTC bus, empty with seats available. What should I do? I did what I felt like. I stood there and let the bus go. I was in no hurry to reach to work. And I thought the first thing I'll do on reaching office is tell my boss Shruti about it.

While we stood there, this girl asked me, "aapko kaha jaana hai?". I said "Noida". "Agar aapki bus aayegi to aap chale jana. Meri bus ki service to kam hai". " Koi baat nahi. aap chinta mat karo", I said.

I stood there looking at the buses. She stood there looking across the street and making that to and fro movement. Then came her bus. I saw the number from a distance. I said pointing towards the bus "woh aa gayi 544". While I said this and waved at the bus to stop, I thought I should help her get on to it. But how was the question. Should I just point her the bus, or should I hold hand and take her to the bus? Should I hold her palm or should I hold her wrist? When I was thinking all that, she kept her hand on my wrist. I smiled again.
I then took her to the rear door of the bus. She climbed onto the bus, taking one step at a time and firmly holding onto the rod. The bus was crowded, but I was sure she will manage a seat. Just as the bus moved away a thought came to my mind. I should have taken her to the front door instead. The first seat at the front door is for physically challenged people. Shit that was such a silly mistake on my part. But I knew the girl was confident enough to find her way through the crowd in the bus. I knew she would be just fine. And as for me, well I was feeling so good about myself. I was happy for her. For the first time I felt being happy for someone else.

I then got a lift in a cab to Noida. I reached Noida before the bus which I had left earlier. It was a perfect start to my day. I told Neha and Shruti about the incident at work and they were happy too.

Why do children hate Karelas-- Conditioning of mind

2008-02-29T02:00:00.000-08:00

The issue of conditioning of mind has been occupying my thoughts for some years now. Conditioning of mind is like programing of mind. The mind is trained to think within the boundaries created. The mind is also trained to think on certain lines and not deviate from it. Its like someone has programed the mind and decided 'what' and 'how' to think for us. This is referred to as conditioning of mind. I first came across this topic during a discussion in a JV workshop in Mussoorie in 2004. Since then I've been thinking on this issue. I also read a book named 'Freedom from the known' by Jedu Krishnamurthy, where he talks at length about de-conditioning of mind.

I wonder how deep this conditioning goes and when did it start. Did it start when I went to school first? The earliest conditioning I can think of is to regard first rank or good marks as something great. Or did the conditioning start when I started seeing television. The conditioning of regarding certain set of clothes as cool and others as not so cool seemed to have taken place through television for me. Or did the conditioning started even earlier?

I've been observing kids very carefully on this issue. In my family I have 3 nieces and 2 nephews. The eldest of them now being 10 years and the youngest 11 months old. I haven't seen the youngest one much, but I have seen the other kids in the grow very closely. And often I have observed rather innocent but serious conditioning taking place on part of the parents. One very common thing I have seen in my family is the way we talk. We all talk in a fairly normal way (the accent, the voice, the pitch) when talking among ourselves. But when we need to speak with any of the kids, our style of talking completely changes. To sound polite to them everything changes about the way we speak (the pitch, the accent, the choice of words). As a result we may sound quite polite to the kids, but we sure do not sound normal to them. And I believe they are smart enough to notice this change (however small they maybe). I now think of the damage this does to them. We are showing a part of hypocrisies in us, where we behave differently with different people.

I can think of another incident which clearly showed me how a child gets conditioned. In December I was visiting my cousins in Mumbai. One of my nephew belongs there and he is about 3 years old now. I was talking about the above example with my brother and it made him think. During this trip we visited a family friend in Nerul. The sweet aunty gave Rehaan (my nephew) a piece of paper and pen to play with. Rehaan used that to draw some figure which was some figure in line with evolution of snakes. My bhabhi would very politely ask what he has drawn, and "snakes" came the answer. To this my bhabhi replied "ooooh snake! oh im scared Rehaaan" (notice the extra a in rehaan). And with this she would also enact out the emotion of fear on her face. Rehaan would then runaway into a different room and come back again within a minute. He would come back with another similar figure and my bhabhi would ask the same question. He gave the same answer again, "snakes" and that followed exactly the same response from my Bhabhi. This happened 4 times in 5 minutes. The 5th time Rehaan came with his drawing, he related the words "snakes" with "fear" and the expression my Bhabhi would make. I'm assuming here that at that time he got conditioned. He got conditioned into thinking that snakes are something to be feared of. And as he will grow his 'natural' reaction on seeing snakes would be that of fear.

I can relate this example to my life. I can see how my 'natural' reactions were not natural enough but conditioned. I'm not saying the parents did this with some bad purpose in mind. This act has been done with pure innocence on their part I'm sure.

I was reading a blog recently where this girl talks about how every child hates karela. How the 'natural' reaction of every child on seeing a karela would be 'chee, chee', while this girl loved karelas as a kid. I think a similar thing happens with karela too. When a child tastes karela (or anything which is sour), the mother (or any adult) makes this hate expression on the face. And I think this act done number of times makes it 'natural' for a kid to dislike sour things. And similarly to like sweet things. I cannot imagine that our tongue is designed to me less favorable for karela and more favorable for an ice-cream. I think the issue of tasty food is more of conditioning of mind and less of the structure of our tongue.

As we grow older, this conditioning becomes stronger and wider. This conditioning then plays a major part in our decisions in every aspect of life, shopping, hobbies, choosing a partner, choosing a job etc.

A-Z of places I've visited

2008-02-25T07:46:00.000-08:00

A for Amarkantak- Amarkantak is where from river Narmada originates. The river originates from a spring over which people have built the narmada temple. Narmada is the only major Indian river flowing westward to join the arabian sea. All other rivers meet the bay of bengal. Amarkantak is suppose to be the highest point in the vindhyachal range. A place called Som dhara near it is like the end of the world. It is at the edge of the mountain. On looking down all you see is clouds, no ground. It is a breath taking sight. The nearest station is Pendra Road, which is well connected by trains from Delhi or Raipur. For those who love the jungles of central India, Amarkantak is a must.

B for Badrinath- It is the temple of Lord Vishnu located in the north of Garhwal region in Uttaranchal. It is just 40km from the Indo-Tibet border. Badrinath was established by Shankaracharya. This is quite an interesting fact because Shankaracharya hailed from southern state of Kerela. It is said his journey (from Kerela to Uttaranchal and back to Kerela) took some 7 years. There is an early morning 5am aarti which takes place at Badrinath. There is a hot water spring and also the river Alaknanda flows besides the temple. People take bath usually by mixing the water from the river and the spring (otherwise you may end up burning yourself or freezing). 5km from Badrinath is a small village called Mana, which is the last Indian village in that area. The road on Indian side ends at Mana. The people of Mana are a mix of Indian and Tibetan blood. There is also Valley of flowers close to Badrinath. The nearest town to all three of them is Joshimath which is inhabited all round the year. Badrinath, Mana and Valley of flowers are opened only for a few summer months. One has to book cabs from Delhi or Rishikesh to reach Badrinath. The journey can easily be two days long one way if weather permits. The road from Rishikesh to Badrinath is about 300km moving all along the river Ganga. On way one passes through many prayags. A prayag is a place where two rivers meet. It is a sight in itself to see two rivers meet from mountain top. The route is marred my deep river gorges and also many waterfalls, some even falling on the road. People take bath and wash their vehicles under such waterfalls.

C for Chail- Chail is located in the state of Himachal pradesh. It is a few hours journey from Chandigarh on one side and Simla on other side. The road from Chail to Simla maintains a constant altitude till Kufri. Most mountain roads are zig-zag and go up and down. This road is only zig-zag and does not change its altitude at all. Chail also has the worlds highest cricket field. Right on the top of the mountain, they have a plain oval shaped field with an old score board. The field looks something like the cricket field in Lagaan (the dust is replaced by lush green grass here). This field is the home of hundreds of monkeys, so never even think about showing an iota of attitude to them. They'll chase you all the way down to Chandigarh (speaking from personal experience). Simla is 4 hours drive from Chail via Kufri. Kufri is known for its snowfall. On way back to Chandigarh, a little off the road (about 15km) is a small town named Kasauli. Kasauli has an airforce base and is also inhabited by mostly retired army generals. One doesn't find too many hotels there (it seems they don't want to encourage tourists). The nearest city to all of them is Chandigarh.

D for Dalhousie- It lies in the dhauladhar ranges in the state of himachal pradesh. One could get there via Pathankot or through Kangra. In Dalhousie town, if you are looking for good aloo paranthas then sharma’s dhaba is the place on Gandhi chowk. It’s a shabby looking dhaba (that’s how dhabas are suppose to look), but the aloo paranthas are comaparable to the best I’ve eaten. Near Dalhousie is the famous Khajjiar lake which is referred as mini Switzerland due to its similar looks. Khajjiar is 23 km from Dalhousie, and buses are available to take you there and back. Another place is dain kund. It’s an airforce base located at the highest peak in the region. This base just over looks Pakistan and therefore is used for monitoring activities across the border. They have a huge radar there which is guess is used to intercept signals. Near the base lies a temple and a beautiful valley. No buses go there, so has to walk. The distance would be around 17 km from Dalhousie.

E for (nothing i can think of.....)

F for Fatehpur Sikri- This was the capital of emperor Akbar. It is about 35km from Agra. Fatehpur Sikri boasts of Buland Darwaza, the tallest gate in the world. It sure is huge. There is nothing more to the town. Closest city is Agra where Tajmahal and Agra fort are worth seeing. Agra is 200km from Delhi and well connected by buses and trains.

G for Gurgaon- That was the only place I could think with G. Gurgaon is a suburb of Delhi on the Delhi-Jaipur NH-8. Old Gurgaon is a usual Indian town, but the DLF area looks more of some western nation. It is flanked by tall,swanky corporate buildings, shopping malls and very expensive residence complexes. The most interesting thing I find about DLF area is the names they have chosen for roads and complexes. Each and every name it seems have been borrowed from the west. There are NO hindi names there. I wondered was it a deliberate policy on their end to choose such names or was it just a beautifully western coincidence. I believe it reflects the follow the west blindly kind of thinking in them, but I there is no way I can prove that. Gurgaon in anycase is used as the perfect face of growing India.

H for Hoshangabad- It is a small town in Madhyapradesh located on the banks of Narmada. I visited this place when in class VIII in a gurukul there. It is well connected to Bhopal.

I for (cant think of something....)

J for Jammu- This is the summer capital of J&K. I've never been to any place where there is so much of military. At first look it seems there is a war going on. 2hrs drive from Jammu is the temple of Mata Vaishno Devi. This temple is very popular among north Indians. Jammu is well connected by rail and road from Delhi.

K for Kanyakkumari- Kanyakkumari is the southern most point of the India mainland. This is where the Arabian sea, Indian Ocean and Bay of Bengal meet (though to naked eye it looks a simple sea). It is also the place from where Swami Vivekananda grew as a person. They have an Ashram of him there. Just off the mainland into the sea is the rock where Vivekananda used to meditate. There is also a beautiful statue of Guruvayur standing in the sea. Interestingly Kanyakkumari is in the state of Tamilnadu (for some reason I always thought it to be in Kerela).

L for (cant think of any....)

M for Mcleodganj- This is the seat of the govt in exile of Tibet. Home of the Dalai Lama. One would find a large number of Tibetans there, and many in monastic robes. Mcleodganj is about 15km above the town of Dharamshala. If you choose to walk from Dharamshala to Mcleodganj through the short cut, there comes a point from where one can see the cricket stadium in Dharamshala. It's like a bird eye's view of a stadium. Dharamshala is very close to Kangra which is famous for it's apple farms. The mountain range in this part of Himalayas is called Dhauladhar range. In Mcleodganj the majority of foreign tourists are from Israel. I don't know the reason for that, but they say Mcleodganj and Kullu are like second home to Israelis. Besides hotels, one room apartments are also available for those who plan to stay for months. A lot of Tibetan and Israeli food is also available along with the usual north indian food of course. Dharamshala is well connected by buses from Chandigarh and Delhi.

N for Nainital- This famous hill station lies in the Kumaon region of Uttaranchal. It is named after the Naini lake, which now is absolutely polluted, thanks to the tourism industry. There are other lakes around Nainital, but all are polluted now. There is Ranikhet some 35km from Nainital which is lot less crowded and clean. I personally prefer Ranikhet a better place to visit than Nainital for the simple reason that there are very few tourists there. Nainital is well connected by bus from Delhi, while the nearest station is located at Kathgodam.

O for (cant think of any....)

P for Pushkarji- Pushkar is 12km from the city of Ajmer. While Pushkar is known for the only temple of Brahma in the world, Ajmer is known for the dargaah of Khwaja Moinuddin chishti, a sufi saint. It is said that more Hindus visit the dargaah than Muslims. Pushkar is located on the bank of a lake. Ajmer too has a number of lakes. Ajmer is well connected by train and bus from Jaipur and Delhi.

Q for (cant think of any....)

R for Rohtang Pass- Rohtang pass is beyond the town of Manali. I went there in the month of May and it still snowed there. Beyond Rohtang lies the lahaul and spiti valley which connect Laddakh to Himachal. There are only two roads connecting to Laddakh. Besides the Srinagar-Leh NH-1A, this is the only road. The river Beas flows through Manali. Manali is well connected to Delhi and Chandigarh through road. It takes at least two days to reach Manali by Road.

S for Shimla- This is the capital of Himachalpradesh and the former summer capital of the Raj. It is the biggest city I've seen in the mountains. It occupies almost half the mountain. The Mall road in Shimla is where all the activity is in the night. New year's time is when it is most crowded. It is said that it always snows on the new year's eve, but this time it didn't snow and it made news. Shimla is well connected by road from Chandigarh and Delhi.

T for Thiruanandapuram- It is also known as Trivandrum for short. It is the capital of Kerela. The airport is located next to the sea, so the sight of runway is quite good. There are very few red lights in the city and not much traffic. The only place where one could find traffic snarls is near the secretariat. The narial paani is the most common drink you could get. In restaurants you get warm boiled water. I found it difficult to find open cold drinking water. And one should definetly try eating barrotas there.

U for (cant think of any....)

V for Valley of Flowers- This is the best place I have visited in my life. It is breathtakingly beautiful and one major reason for that is not may people visit the valley. The only way to get to the valley is to trek 18km from Govindghat (nearest road point) of to sit on a poney. Beyond the gate of the valley, the ponies are not allowed. You pass through the gate, climb the mountain and you the a 10km long valley. It is just amazing. All you see is a bed of flowers. All kinds of flowers, all possible colors. There are some flowers which blossom only once in one year. So if you see them on a day, you will not see them for the entire year. Also the valley changes its colors. Today it might have purple flowers, and tomorrow there will be magenta flowers. My writing skills are not good enough to describe the valley. All I can say is it's a must visit for those who love to trekk and those who love mountains. It is one of the very few places left in the mountains which is untouched by the tourists. Beyond the valley lies Badrinath on one side, while on the other side is Hemkunth Sahib. This is the highest gurudwara in the world. It is located at the banks of a lake. Nearest town is Joshimath, which is more than a day's drive from Rishikesh and Delhi.

W,X,Y for (cant think of any....)

Taare Zameen Par-II....The truth about truth

2008-02-02T08:43:00.000-08:00

I was in SIDH last year for few months. SIDH is a non profit organization based in Mussoorie in the state of Uttaranchal. It has some 17 schools in villages nearby. I was in one of them, teaching all that I know to little but smart kids there. The time I spent there was perhaps the turning point in my life. It forced me to re-look at my country in a way I was not used to. It forced me to know about Bharat and not India.

While taking a class with fifth grade kids, I asked them once. "Do you people lie"? I got no answers. I then said, "I do lie sometimes. I'm sure even you must be doing it sometimes". They now started raising hands, indicating yes they do it sometimes. All of them raised their hands. All did lie at some point or the other. I then asked, "why do you lie"? The answers they were giving sounded familiar. They lie because they don't want to get a beating from their father or their teacher. They lie, because they don't want any kind of punishment in school. Then a little boy said " we also lie to impress others, our teacher, our friends". That was a really honest answer. I was not asking all this to see if they lie or not. I was asking this to them, to help me look inside myself. All those answers seemed so familiar. All those reasons were mine too. Just that as I grew older, my lies would be more to impress people than actually out of fear of some kind of punishment.

I then asked them, "do you also speak the truth?" They laughed to this question. What a silly question, "yes we do speak the truth", everyone said. Then I asked them "why do u speak the truth?". This question was also addressed to me. We were all thinking. Why do we speak the truth? I had not definite answers. Probably because it's the easiest thing to do, I thought. Just then a little girl stood up to answer the question. "We speak the truth because otherwise no one will believe us."

This statement left me thinking long after the class. We want others to believe us, to trust us.And for them to do that, we need to speak the truth. The same is the other way round. We want to trust people. And so we feel good when they speak the truth. Why does it feel bad when the other person lies?? I guess because the trust is broken. That is what probably hurts. And one lie, causes doubts on all the truths that have also been spoken.

A friend recently lied to me. It was a totally insignificant lie, non-consequential. But that lie shook me, broke my trust. I was forced to doubt every word she had uttered before. I wanted to stop, but could not help think all the statements she made to me. And the thought of them being a lie was disturbing. Maybe I've done the same with other people too. Maybe I've broken their trust too. Maybe just like me, even they asked "why me?"

When I decided to go to SIDH, Pawan ji had told me to come with an attitude of a student. To have an attitude that I may learn something there, from the local people. That class that day proved a turning point in my life. I realized I was not there to do some kind of social service. I was not there to help those kids. I was there to learn. To learn what I did not find in my text books for over 20 years. To know what Bharat is. I had a fairly good knowledge of India, but not Bharat.

March on global warming

2008-02-01T03:16:00.000-08:00

I met Shashank a few days ago. He was planning to organize a rally to highlight the issue of global warming. In the conversation we had I wanted to know how serious he is and how he plans to take the rally. He asked me to join him for the march.

Yesterday some 200 students (mostly from IIIT) gathered in front of the cyber pearl building in the hi-tech city area. We had hired the city transport bus to take the students from the campus to rendevouz. Almost all the IIIT students were dressed in blue jeans and white t-shirts. I think this was some kind of planning from their side. I'm not sure why this combination of dress. We were also given half a page, describing small steps we can take in our lives which would help reduce global warming.

Most of the talks I have heard on this issue and even here, the solutions suggested seem to be insufficient. I feel even if all the solutions suggested here were implemented, at best the global warming will be postponed. If global warming was to happen today, it would be postponed to say 10 years from now. I think the core issue was missing. And I believe the core problem is consumerism. I feel unless the problem of endless consumerism is tackled, environmental breakdown is inevitable.

I'll try to explain with an example. One of the solution suggested is to have better technology cars, which emit less fumes in the air. But at the same time the target of the industry remains to increase the car sale. The ideal situation for industry would be if everyman on the earth owns a car. Now even if with new technology, the fuel emission is reduced by 15%, the car sales goes up 10 times. In total, more fumes are emitted now.

Our march began in front of a corporate building which was made entirely of glass. And that was not the only building. Almost all the corporate offices in hitech city (in fact even in other cities of the country) are made mainly of glass. Now India is a hot country where sun shines really bright. A glass building would allow immense amount of sun rays to enter the building. And to cool this heat so much of more air conditioning is required. I wonder if anyone gave a thought on this aspect of those glamorous buildings.

While marching and shouting slogans, I saw a roadside advertisement banner. It read (something something....Mini city, Mega comforts). The ad was for some upcoming township in Hyderabad. If someone is trying to fit in mega comforts into a mini city, I believe global warming is round the corner. I asked Harjinder ji if the issue of global warming can be tackled without talking about consumerism. His response was that each one is standing at a different point, and each one has to raise his voice from that point. He thought, in todays time we have to talk about multiple issues together rather can putting our energy on one issue. We both felt it was important to have some kind of follow up activity in IIIT, otherwise the whole issue would be diffused. I asked Shashank if they planned anything like that. He said they have planned to show the video recordings of the march in felicity (the upcoming college festival). They are also trying to organize some talks on the issue.

The heartening fact was to see Shashank and his friends organize the event. They managed everything well and in the end seemed pretty satisfied with the effort. When we reached back at the campus after the march, Shashank's friend gave him what they call bumps (number of guys lift one person and kick his ass, till it goes red or better sense prevails). Such a celebration is a sign of a successful event and the happiness in those people.

I really hope some kind of follow up activity is organized in the college. It's very easy for the young students here to undermine the seriousness of such activities. The follow up can help them continue to be sensitive about such issues.

By the way, just for record, some of the war cries and banners were
Jhonny Jhonny yes papa, global warming no papa
vote for, green planet
be different, go green
fly less
use public transport
........and some on the lighter side were
angrezo, bharat chhodo
inquilaab zindabaad

For me the success of rally would be if Shashank and his team of organizers can make their living more green. Anyone else would be a bonus.

Celebrating by selling Gandhi

2008-01-30T02:59:00.001-08:00

It was my birthday on 26th. Usually I don't plan any celebrations. I always thought I should not plan celebrating my day of birth, but I would always feel nice if someone else planned it for me. The idea of a surprise birthday party thrown by friends always seemed so nice. This time I was feeling different. I don't know why, but I wanted to plan myself and invite friends.
So Devansh and I sat together about a week before to plan how to celebrate. We initially thought of going to Lingampally station and do some cleaning there. We got other ideas too. Finally we decided to sell books written by Gandhi. We basically intended two things through this. We wanted to get a feel (and also give a feel to our friends whom we were to invite) of what it is like to sell something out on the street. And we also wanted to distribute some works of Gandhi. One doesn't find much on Gandhi in books stores, and hardly anyone goes to buy his books. I once asked a store owner if he has any books written by Gandhi ji. He politely declined. But then said " oh sir, we do have the new harry potter book. If you would be interested". I smiled and said no thank you. Harry potter seemed to have taken over the land of Mahatma.

I even called two friends Mumbai and Pune, but only Ruchi could manage to come. I had a list of about 10 people in mind who would join us in the 'party'. The plan was to buy books, sell them on the Punjagutta crossing and then have food.

Ruchi and I went book hunting. Devansh had told us about a shop in exhibition ground in Nampally. When we reached there and said we were looking for books on Gandhi ji, they seemed surprised. As if saying are you sure?? It reminded us of the munna bhai film. The old man took us in the store, offered us seats and asked us which book are we looking for. "All of them", we said. The look on his face made us feel happy about ourselves. He showed us all the books. His autobiography, his book to students, to lawyers, about health and vegetarianism, about village industries. The cheapest was Rs.5 while the most expensive was Rs.35. Gandhi sells cheap, thankfully. It seems the government has given some kind of subsidy on his works so as to encourage people reading it. But I guess the youth today is not attracted by subsidy only. The youth requires some kind of glamour to move.

The next day was 26th. In the morning there was a small ceremony of flag hoisting in the campus. It got over by 9am and we decided to leave by 10am. Unfortunately only 4 of us could gather for the occasion. So off we went. We reached Lingampally station and decided to do a dress rehearsal there. The response we got there was totally unexpected. We didn't manage a single success. Everyone turned down the offer. Some gave funny looks, some laughed. One gentleman said "Gandhi...something something something"...I couldn't understand telugu, but figured that the man doesnt think much of Gandhi. At that point I thought maybe it was a bad idea. I got conscious too. Others too were feeling a bit down, but we still continued with our plan.

We reached Begumpet station, and decided to walk to Punjagutta crossing, which is about 2 km from there. On our way we would try to sell to any prospective buyer. Just then an uncle ji stopped. He seemed interested. He saw all the books we had and decided to buy two. That was our first sale. Our 'boney', and boy we were excited. It was then we decided we will sell all the books and only then go for the biryani.

We spent the next hour and a half at the Punjagutta crossing. The sun was bright. We got all sort of looks. The beggars at the crossing were also interested in what we were selling. One of them even flipped through the books. "I also sell books sometime at the crossings. But have never sold Gandhi ji's books" he said. Yeah I know, I thought.

The books I had were bought by an auto driver. When Ruchi was trying to sell one to two guys on a bike, one of them said he doesnt like Gandhi. But immediately the other one said he likes Gandhi and bought one from her. Devansh met a guy who asked the source we got our books from. He said he would go to the same shop and buy books from there. Devansh tried to sell the books in front of Himalaya book store, thinking that the people who would come there would be interested. But soon the store owner came with his guard and asked Devansh to leave the place...

All in all we had fun. After that we went to paradise to have some nice biryani. Thank you those who came and made my day, and those who could not make it, well we missed you.

Taare Zameen Par

2008-01-16T10:20:00.000-08:00

It was may,1997. I was 15 years old. It was my third trip to Amarkantak. Amarkantak is suppose to be the highest point in the vindhya range in central Indian state. The sacred river Narmada originates from a spring here. People have built a temple over this spring. Right opposite to the temple is Baba's home. His name is Shri A.Nagaraj Sharma, but I always addressed him as Baba, meaning grandfather. I thought thats how my dad wanted me to address him. He probably related to him in father-son relation. My earlier trips to Amarkantak had been in 1990 and 1991 along with my family and other colleagues of my parents. This time, my dad had already been in Amarkantak, and my mom was not coming. So I was traveling alone. Well not alone entirely, I had Gaur uncle who was a faculty in Mechanical Engg department in IIT-D, Naresh Mamaji, his son Kapil who was my age, Neeraj who was 4 years elder to me and Sandeep who was few years younger to me. Then there were Sanjeev bhaiya and Ritu bhabhi also. Among them, I was the only one who had been to Amarkantak before.

My dad had left for Amarkantak in first week of May. Before leaving he had urged and also warned us (mom and I), to join him for the shivir. Jeevan Vidya had grown in the last 4 years, and he had been requesting us to do a shivir. For some reason, mom and I both had been giving him a slip on the issue. I'm still not sure what reason's mom had, but I had no reasons. The only possible reason I could think of is probably the fact that JV was still a rural thing. All the shivirs were held in rural India, and mostly farmers were getting associated with it. At time, I had a bent of mind, where it was difficult for me to relate to rural Indians. I felt more comfortable with my elite friend circle in Delhi. And so before leaving dad had given a sort of warning to both of us to come for the shivir, otherwise he may not return home. I guess, my mom decided to take a mid-path. She allowed me to go, but herself stayed back in Delhi. I also guess, Gaur uncle was also traveling for a similar reason.

As a child, I had always seen such kind of struggle between my parents. On one hand was my dad, totally against the modern world, who saw all the answers in JV, while on the other was my mom who wanted to be more practical. It was very hard for my mom to imagine a life without the usual luxuries in life, specially when our neighbors and relatives kept adding something each year. For me, dad was always correct, but I was too lazy and weak to start living the way he wanted me too. I loved wearing nike shoes, playing basketball, watching T.V, when I always knew one day I would leave all that. I just hoped to postpone that day a little bit. Our other relatives always had high regard for dad, but thought he was a little impractical. All this had been happening in my house, when finally dad gave us the final warning this time before leaving for Amarkantak.

Meanwhile in Amarkantak, people were gathering for the shivir. All of them were either friends or friends of friends who were coming by the word of mouth. Some of them were curious to know what JV is, while others were coming for the sake of their friendship, just like me and Gaur uncle. They expected some 60 people to gather, and so in terms of numbers this would have been the biggest JV shivir till then. Dad was suppose to take it, while Ransingh Mamaji and others would take care of the arrangements. I remember Ganeshji's presence there, but what role he was playing is not clear to me.

We started at 1pm from Nizammuddin station by Kalinga Utkal express. In the evening, somewhere in Madhyapradesh we met, two more people who were headed for the shivir too. It was quite exciting for me to just meet someone like this, heading for the same place, same purpose. One of them was a very old man Sindhu Chacha. He must have been over 70 then, had a long grey beard. Sindhu chacha had been in the freedom struggle along with Gandhi ji.

We all reached Pendra road next day at 11.30 am. Sadhan bhaiya, had sent a jeep for us, but with the extra two passengers and also our more than expected luggage it was not possible for all of us to travel in jeep together. Amarkantak was still 35 km away, deep in the forest and on top of the mountain. So Gaur uncle, Naresh Mamaji, and we kids (Neeraj,Kapil,Sandeep and I) decided to come by bus. Our luggage was taken by the jeep. When the bus came, it was jam packed. It happened to be some religous season, and so people from far away were coming to Amarkantak. While Gaur uncle and Naresh Mamaji managed to get in the bus, we kids went on the roof. Surprisingly they didn't object to this. That was the first sign I got from others that I was a grown up kid now. They trusted me, when it came to traveling on the roof of bus. But sadly, the driver noticed us soon, and we had to get off the bus. There was no room inside, so we decided to stay back, while Gaur uncle and Naresh Mamaji continued their journey.

Neeraj asked me if I knew the way to Amarkantak. I said, I'm not sure. No I don't. We all laughed. I was surprised. But we all laughed. There seemed no fear of getting lost in the unknown land. It seemed even the adults had no such fear, and so they left us alone. Had my mom been there, it would had a completely different situation. I was sure, if mom comes to know of it Gaur uncle and dad would have had a good taste of her mind. But that was not happening here. We were only kids left behind, in the Jungle. There were no adults to worry.

After an hour, another bus came. We got on it. Some one offered us a part of their seats. Its pretty normal in India to adjust children. The bus played the song "tum to thehre pardesi,ghar kab aaoge". I'm not sure of who the singer was, but he had Raja in his name. This song had topped the charts during those days. For the next one hour, the driver played this song. Only this song. He would rewind and play it again. It was that part of my life, where I was trying to develop a taste for English movies and songs. Listening to Hindi songs was a sign of backwardness to me. So I was probably the only one not enjoying that song, and wondering how can someone enjoy this kind of music. The fare was Rs.9 each. When we asked for the ticket, the conductor looked at us in surprise. In that part, only the government buses give tickets. This was a privately owned bus, and they see the need of giving tickets to passengers. It was only a waste of paper. It then again surprised me, but now I can understand the concept.

We reached Amarkantak after an hour. Amarkantak was no where to be seen. It seemed the bus stand had shifted out of the town. Next to us flowed the great Narmada. We started walking where everyone was going. I remembered that baba's house is opposite to the temple, from where Narmada originates. And it would not be difficult to find that place. While walking I saw somebody familiar. Dad! Hey thats dad. He had come to receive us at the bus station. I was so happy to see him. All the kids touched his feet while I hugged him. " Don't tell this to your mom, she won't like it". I smiled. We took a short-cut to baba's home. It actually was a longer route, but it was away from the road. We walked on a 'pag-dandi' (a path among the grass), all along the Narmada, to enter baba's home from the back. Everyone was there. It was a Mela.

The next 7 days I spent in the shivir. I understood nothing in the shivir, just saw people laughing and enjoying. Some would even weep quietly. I could make out, the shivir was a hit, but still didn't know why.

We returned home in June. After two months my dad died. He was suffering from cancer.

What Attitude !!

2008-01-14T02:26:00.000-08:00

Last year in IIT-D, I saw a student wear a t-shirt which read "I'm what you aspire to be". What attitude I said to a friend. Why would one want to wear such a logo and move in the streets? what is he thinking? what does he want others to think?
They say knowledge brings humility. Is it true? Why don't I see that humility in students here? Are they not getting knowledge or the saying is false? A student fears bad grades here more than anything else. It seems if given a choice between C grade and death, they would choose death. You ask the reason of fear, and in most cases the answer will be "what will people think. What will I think of myself".
My perception about myself depends on what others think about me. So is the case with others. So it seems everyone here, is in the process of feeling good about oneself by trying to impress others. And in an institute like this, nothing is more impressive than grades. You get good grades, people will love you and so you feel good about yourself. You feel confident about yourself. In the next semester you fail an exam and your world comes crashing down. The professor forgets your name, the friends get busy and your life stops. Everything stops. Even eating food seems a waste of time.
I was talking about this to a friend and she seemed to agree, though reluctantly. The most popular professor here has students who are feared by the campus. People love the prof for his humility, and fear his students for their attitude. And it seems both the prof and his students enjoy the situation.

I'm still an outsider here, watching things from a distance. And I already feel uncomfortable. And the JV tag is attached to my name here. He is Harsh Satya JV wala. Thats how people introduce me here.

Hyderabadi flavor- part II

2008-01-06T06:21:00.000-08:00

I've been in the city for 6 months now, and so have now some knowledge about it. This post can be taken as a continuation of my first post. I'm writing this for those friends, who when visit Hyderabad will have some idea about it.
Travel-The buses, in Hyderabad are all state owned buses. One needs to really get into it asap, otherwise there is a likely hood that you will be left out and the bus would move. For males, don't expect the driver to stop the bus, if you wish to get in or get out. At best he would only slow down. The bus stops only when there is a lady. The bus conductors could be of both sexes and well educated. I recently met a conductor who has done a masters in technology and wanted information for admission in doctors program in IIIT. The lady conductors are usually more strict than their male counter parts. Don't even think of not buying a ticket. Unlike in Delhi, I have not seen any ticket checking flying squads here.
There are two ways of traveling in an autorickshaw. If you wish to hire it for your own, then they will over charge you for most occasions. They usually refuse to take you by metered fair, unless it is after 10pm. After 10 the rule is to charge 150% of whatever the meter reads. The other way to travel by auto is by sharing it. In this case the fares are usually fixed, anything from Rs.3 to Rs.10 depending on the distance. One auto is usually shared by 5 people.
The cabs are also available on sharing basis. There are a lot of corporate cabs (usually Indica cars), who move through the city and the driver in order to earn some extra bucks, takes in passengers when there is no corporate customer. In such cases again the fair is reasonable and fixed, and this is the fastest mode of transport in the city. There are no cabs like those found in Delhi or Mumbai (with yellow and black paint, or radio cabs). You can hire cab for yourself (mostly Indica) through any travel agent.
Then there is a local train which runs right through the city. It is called a metro, but don't mistake it for those in Delhi. It's more like those in Mumbai, but in much better condition. The crowd is much less in number, and the trains are also more spacious. The frequency however is one in 15-20 min, but if one is staying near by the railway line, I would say this is the best mode of transport. It takes you away from all the traffic and pollution of the city. The traffic in Hyderabad can get really bad, specially in the peak hours. At such times, the metro is for sure the best option.
There are no hand pulled rickshaws in the city. At least, I have not seen any.
Food- Hyderabad is known for it's biryani. Since I'm a vegetarian, the best veg biryani I have had is at a place called Paradise. This restaurant have 4 floors to it, as you keep climbing, the price tag on each meal increases. I've heard the biryanis served at Hyderabad house is also good. They are a chain of restaurants, scattered in the city. Then there is a restaurant by the name Haveli, located behind lifestyle mall at Begumpet. It serves a good lunch buffet at Rs.130. For those who have a good appetite, this is a good option. It is also very close to Begumpet station, so linked with metro. There is then Chutney's located at Nagarjuna Chowk near Punjagutta. It is known for its south indian delicacies. If you plan to visit it on weekends, be prepared to spend some time waiting outside. They seem to have no space inside, so people usually end up waiting out on the road, while the door is shut. They have a different section for buffet which has plenty of space, but only for buffet. Then there is Eat street which is a combination of number of eating joints. It is on the necklace road, on the banks of Hussainsagar lake. In the night, the view is good and nice breeze blows across the road. Though sometimes the smell of the lake can be a bit annoying. Next to it is some restaurant which has water in it's name. It will not let you in unless they are sure of your paying capacity. So one needs to be 'properly' dressed to enjoy food there (as I wasn't, I didn't went in there so have no idea about it). Next to it is an artificial cricket pitch where a machine bowls at you. You get to play 3 over for Rs.50 and if you can score 50 runs, you get another 2 overs for free. It's not easy to score that many runs.
Discos- There are some discos in the city, but I have had no opportunity to visit them. I've never been to one ever and thought to visit it once to see what it is all about, but someone told me they do not allow single males, (they do allow females though).
Cinema- Movie going here is much better than Delhi or Mumbai or Bangalore. I say betterm because one has a choice of seeing it in the order of Rs.30-40. Such choices have disappeared in Delhi and Mumbai (specially after the closure of Chanakya in Delhi). They do have multiplexes here, but the other cinema halls are equally good (in terms of sound and seating), and reasonably priced. The most famous is the Prasads which claim to have IMAX technology which I have no idea about. Of course they charge you heavily.

Time- the traditional Indian concept

2008-01-01T05:34:00.000-08:00

I met Tenzin ji this Sunday who was visiting his parents in Hyderabad. He had brought some books from SIDH for me. Along with the books was the yearly planner published by SIDH. They named it SAMYOJNA. I guess the word comes from combination of Samay and Yojna. Samay means time and Yojna is plan. So a planner would reflect to planning of time.

The starting few pages in the planner are taken to explain the traditional Indian concept of time, the traditional calender (Lunar calender) and how the calender varies from one part of India to other. Reading those pages filled me with joy and excitement. I was happy to learn the Lunar calender and excited to know that extensive research has been done on the concept of time in India. I was so excited, I felt the need to share some of it in the blog.

Traditionally, time (of kaal) is considered in three ranges in the Hindu philosophy. The first is the cosmic time determined in terms of the life span of Brahma. Brahma is the GOD in Hindu philosophy also referred by Om. In Hindu mythology, one year represents one day for the divine. 360 divine days make one divine year and 12,000 divine years make one Mahayug. Mahayug is also devided in 4 yugs namely Kali yug (432,000 human years), Dwapar yug (864,000 human years; dw= twice), Treta yug (1,296,000 human years; tre=thrice) and Krita yug (1,728,000 human years; 4 times kali yug). 72 Mahayugs make one Manvantara i.e the life of Manu (a character in Hindu mythology). And 14 such Manvantaras make one day (kalpa) for Brahma. This works out to 4.35 billion human years. According to Panchang (a hindu way to calculate time), in the year 2008 (the gregorian way), the universe is 1,955,855,109 human years old.

The second range of time is the Panchang time, which is measured in units of days and months. This is used in determining the seasons etc. There are 6 seasons in one year, namely Vasant (spring), Greeshm (Summer), Varsha (Rain), Sharad (Autumn), Hemant (Winter) and Shishir (early spring).

The third range of time is ishorological, which is used to determine the duration of day and is measured in lesser units. This I found most interesting, though I'm not quite sure what the word ishorological means. The Truti (particle) is the smallest unit of duration. In modern terms it ranges anywhere between one ten thousand millionth of a second to one Kshan (moment). The Kshan (moment) loosely ranges from 2/45th of a second to about 4 seconds. The Nimesha/Mimisha (twinkling of an eye), which is the time taken for upward and downward movement of eyelid is equal to 4 kshanas. The lava (fraction) is the duration of a completed blink (i.e the time taken to shut completely and open the eyes) is equal to 8 kshanas. The taal (hand clap) ranges from one quarter to three quarter of a second. It is an extremely elastic phenomena depending on the intensity of clap.

All this seemed very excited to me for mainly two reasons. One, we could go beyond a second and accurately calculate the time taken by very real and common phenomena of blinking and clapping. And secondly, our research on time w.r.t to celestial movements. I guess the study of Indian astrology would be interesting.

By the way, since I'm writing this blog on the new year day I thought I would also mention that in many parts of India the year starts from Makar Sankranti, which this year would fall on 14th Jan.

Visit to Haritha- In the land of tribals

2007-12-28T08:12:00.000-08:00

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.

The need to talk......it's not about money this time!

2007-12-04T05:51:00.000-08:00

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.

The dangerous new trend

2007-12-02T08:34:00.000-08:00

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.

....continuation of talk on love

2007-11-27T02:11:00.000-08:00

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...

Love is in the air

2007-11-20T01:34:00.000-08:00

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.

trip to home:part IV Discussion on Islam

2007-11-13T06:59:00.000-08:00

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.

trip to home:part III In Delhi

2007-11-13T06:45:00.000-08:00

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

trip to home:part II Nagpur city and Manoj

2007-11-13T05:53:00.000-08:00

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).

trip to home:part I The bus ride

2007-11-13T04:41:00.000-08:00

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.

The divided India

2007-10-29T04:57:00.000-07:00

The educated and the ‘educated’ Indians

It’s been 60 years since the British left India and we became a ‘free’ nation. In these 60 years, India has further disintegrated not as a nation but as a society. While the division has been in many dimensions of life, the most prominent I feel has been between the educated and the ‘educated’ Indians. I’m using the term ‘educated’ for that part of population which gets educated through a pre-defined syllabus, a pre-defined pattern. There are then those educated people who get education not through any prescribed syllabus.

In one of our weekly meetings, an elderly gentleman said “education starts from home. Education starts the moment a child is born. Going to school and college is mere a part of it”. If this is the case, then every child is educated. If I look at myself, it would be wrong to say I was educated in school. The correct thing is, a part of my education came from school. I learnt a lot more about life from sources outside school (my family, my friends, my surrounding). What school has given me is mainly the ability to read and write certain languages and partly the ability to use mathematics. The school has also given me lot of names for things I already knew. For example I always knew if I leave something in the air it will fall on the ground, but had no name for it. In class IX, school gave me the name gravity.

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, India gets divided. As we grow, the ‘educated’ alienates itself from the other educated.

Trip to my village:The generation gap

2007-10-13T04:20:00.000-07:00

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.

The call from Mata Vaishnodevi

2007-10-06T00:09:00.000-07:00

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.

The problem of conversation

2007-10-04T05:49:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-04T03:20:00.000-07:00

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 America for what it’s done to Iraq, Afghanistan, Yugoslavia, Latin America but I am dying to get a green card.

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 India is a filthy country, dirt all around, people don’t have civic sense.

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 India vs Pakistan I am a true patriot.

20. India is going to be a global power, economic growth would soon touch 8%, sensex has crossed 11000 marks, there are more millionaires in India than ever before but farmers still die of hunger in India.

Something to think about.....

That girl at Agra bus station

2007-09-27T09:40:00.000-07:00

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.

Hyderabadi flavor

2007-09-27T05:12:00.000-07:00

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.