WHOSE GOD IS IT ANYWAY?

We have just concluded the Navratri “celebrations”. I am convinced that people believe that gods must be deaf or sleeping and they need to be woken up with cacophonic music, ear splitting noise of conches and other religious instruments and blaring loudspeakers. It is as if when we did not have technology of woofers and mixers we had no means to reach God.

Earlier we had the Ayodhaya verdict. I sometimes keep comparing our times with times many centuries ago. As compared to then, we have better technical means available now to debate issues. However, I keep wondering whether the quality and impact of debates are any better than, say, during Peloponnesian wars. Is it the destiny of human race to periodically indulge in extreme foolishness and lunacy that do nothing for general upliftment of people? If we believe in God, all land, assets, and people belong to Him. Can some judges actually adjudicate now whether a miniscule portion of that land also belongs to Him or not? God, we are your children but many a times we act as if we are more powerful than even you. I’d rather join the ranks of pagans and atheists than to associate with such religions as divide God’s people.

Let us take the simplistic version of origin of Religion; no, not any particular religion; but just Religion. Many centuries ago, Man realised that there was great deal to be gained by staying together: mutual support, defence against animals and vagaries of Nature, and optimal utilisation of resources, to name a few. However, community living brought with it a set of problems if all the members were to follow their own rules, ethics, and standards. Thus, Religion was born: a set of principles for good community living. There were, however, many problems, dangers, disasters etc that Man was not able to protect himself against even when living in a community and hence the concept of God or gods originated. The philosophy was that anything beyond Man, both individually and collectively, was in the realm of an omnipotent and omnipresent God and all that we had to do was to have faith in Him and He would be our saviour. Indeed, the ancient images of gods included Snake, Sun, Tiger, Lion and all the things Man was afraid of. Thus, when faced with situations beyond his control, Man turned to God for succour. This pleading for succour could be done in many ways. But, Man realised that the best was to do it together in community. Therefore, somewhere along the line Religion got associated with the concept of praying to God. It is not clear whether Religion, being a set of principles for community living, came first or formal praying to God in community came first. However, principles like ‘Thou shalt not steal’ or ‘Thou shalt not covet your neighbour’s wife’ together with Prayers or Petitions to God became essential parts of most religions.

The concepts of Religion and God were refined over the ages and in keeping with the times. However, despite the refinements, because different people interpreted these differently, problems arose. One basic reason why these were interpreted differently was (and is) that logic and reason are more suited for individuals (eg, Lord Krishna reasoning it out with Arjuna before the battle of Mahabharta). More often than not, in collections of people called crowds, mob mentality takes over. So, whereas people individually are adequately reasonable, in crowds they behave at the level of common minimum reasoning laced with jingoism and parochialism. The reason for this is not difficult to fathom; it is an unquestioned faith in tenets of community honed over ages. Armies are built around such philosophies of convenience; ‘Good’ lies with us and ‘Evil’ is what they are. The concepts of jus ad bellum (right to wage war) and jus in bello (just war) also have their origin in this.

Oliver Cromwell, on 5th Aug 1650 wrote thus to the synod of church of England: “I beseech you in the bowels of Christ, think it possible that you may be mistaken”. But, like Rundi K Bakshi, played by Peter Sellers in the movie ‘The Party’, said, “In India we don’t think; we are sure”; there is no question of Indians, belonging to any community, thinking it possible that they may be mistaken. Gods, they feel, have bestowed upon them the burden of being ‘firm in faith’. Translated it means that there is religious merit in locking up good sense and following jus ad bellum unquestionably.

Whenever our collective understanding of tenets that should be followed in a community, that is Religion, became much haywire, we had leaders emerging who brought us back to good sense. These leaders reminded us primarily not to try to prove with mass reasoning that we knew to be intrinsically wrong. These reformists either started a new Religion or their teachings became new Religion. In some cases, like in the case of Hinduism, the religion remained the same but reforms made it better and more suited to emerging times.

As I said earlier, in our collective wisdom, the teachings of these leaders too became subject to interpretations. So when Mohammed said and practised that a Muslim should marry many women, he was talking about succour that such marriages provided to those women who had lost their protectors in war in early seventh century. But, over time, this was interpreted as a right of a Muslim to have many wives. In other religions too such interpretations to suit philosophy of the day became rampant. Our faith demanded that we did not think of these leaders as mere mortals; so we regarded them as gods or the God or prophets of God. Since Religion was close to armies in organisation, blind or unquestioned faith in tenets of the religion and gods was considered a virtue. Hence, people fighting in the name of God or Religion was sanctified in almost all religions. This included even Buddhism.

I think a time has come when we do not require organised Religion at all. We have come way off from the ancient times when Religion provided us with collective defence against Evil and fearful enemies including animals and demons. During those times and many centuries later Religion united us against such forces. But now, Religion has become the biggest divider of people. We should now move from community religion to individual religion. Indeed, Guru Nanak Dev, the founder of Sikhism, and many other reformers, during the major reformative movement of Hindu religion, described Kalyug as a positive era; in that whilst earlier we were praying to God in community, we could, in Kalyug, do it individually. In other words we can be one to one with God. We can evoke the Good within us and kill the Evil within us rather than seeking to destroy or look down upon the enemies or perceived enemies of our Religion. Guru Nanak borrowed a phrase from the Vedas to delineate the entire essence of what should be our Religion: “Man Jeete Jag Jeet” (Conquer your own Mind to conquer the Universe).

God is within us and all around us. We neither have to go to mountains, nor churches, mosques and temples to worship Him or Her. Collective worshipping of God or gods helps no one except to divide communities (who are also the same God’s creations and hence related to us) and only helps the politicians or so called custodians of faith who thrive from such polarisation.

I was very small when I went with my parents to see Hindi (we had not bastardised by calling it Bollywood) movie ‘Dhool Ka Phool’ (A Flower in Dust). But, still the words ring in my mind:

‘Tu Hindu banega na musalmaan banega,

Insaan ki aulad hai insaan banega.’

(My child, you will neither grow up to be a Hindu nor a Muslim; you are a human child and you will grow to become human)

I, for one, shall pray in a Mandir or fight for the right to pray in a Mandir if…..well, if a court can prove to me Ram is to be found or can be prayed to only in a Mandir. Similarly, I shall pray for Allah in a mosque if He can’t be found elsewhere.

When they objected to Guru Nanak for sleeping with his feet towards the mosque because it was the abode of God, he simply asked them to move his feet in a direction where there was no God.

Whose God is it anyway?

FOR BETTER OR FOR VERSE

Here is the first of the collections of my rhymes of the day. These are primarily topical; though some are based on my mood of the day. You can get their full flavour if you recall the news of the day; for example, massacre of Maradonna’s Argentina by Germany in the last Football World Cup.


Read on. A second edition will follow:

Those were the days my friend,
We didn’t have Cut, Copy, Paste and Send.

I could not sleep the whole night long;
Thinking of how every Right just went Wrong;
I wish I could sing a happy song.

Can big teams play BIG football?
Well, the only thing BIG is their fall.

So low are the ways of Indian leaders;
That virtually they are corruption breeders;
Or in other words nation bleeders.

I like the sun, the moon and the flowers;
But, what I like best are the monsoon showers.

Sundays are for rising late,
Sundays are for rest;
But God, when I watch the world cup,
Don’t send any visitor or guest.

England did not have it in them to win;
But they made enough din;
For Lampard’s goal that went in the bin.

Nice to be witness to Brazilian magic;
Thrice Chile was fooled by their trick;
All field goals and no penalty kick.

One is born, works, eats, plays, sleeps, and dies;
Is there nothing else to our lives?
What about Love, its joys and sighs?

“I too want a degree”
Said the Paki son to his dad;
“Okay” said the father, “I can buy BA, MA,
But Phd is the current fad”.

Rain, rain don’t go away;
Please come every day;
Little Rooney never wants to play.

The Samba boys are finally out,
Being done in by the Dutch;
Dont you feel the Brazilians,
Had lost their magic touch?

Massacre of Argentina was a subject,
Klose to Germany’s heart;
And Messi? Well, he,
just proved to be a fart!

“When will India excel in Soccer?”
Asked of his father a son.
He replied, “Only after,
With Cricket, we have done”.

When will realise strikes don’t help;
Except those who, like dogs, yelp.

Muttiah Muralitharan is,
The best off-spinner we ever had;
Now that he is retiring,
We can’t help feeling sad.

People come into your life for a reason.
But, whether or not they stay depends upon the season!

How lovely to have children around;
Oh, don’t we all love the sound,
Of their little feet on floor or ground?

Let’s not make a big fuss,
About Paul the Octopus;
If he was really so bright,
He’d be emitting an Oranje light!

I remember the days they’re small;
And used to see me as a hero.
But now that my kids have grown up,
I ‘ve become closer to a zero.

Come be my love till the end of Time;
But, at least be mine till the end of this rhyme.

‘Tis better not to fall in love,
And keep a steady head;
For she will surely pull the plug,
And leave you cold and dead.

Now that we have found Higgs Bosun,
Can we do without God?
But, after all is said and done,
What if it turns out to be fraud?

Peace with our neighbour Pakistan,
Will never get a chance;
So long as they feel that hatred,
Is the best political stance.

I thought I could live without friends,
And I believed it was true;
But thank God I was wrong,
For I can’t live without you.

The best days are Sundays,
’cause they have my name (Ravi);
Without them there won’t be fun days,
And life would not be the same.

Of all things life makes you learn,
This one you shouldn’t forget;
When you, with envy burn;
You have already lost the bet.

India and Pakistan will always be,
Strange bedfellows;
Who want to get along famously,
But take offence to even “hellos”.

Sometimes you tweet and tweet,
And you still can’t be heard;
Like as if your best feat,
Is simply absurd.

How many total moods are there,
Happy, pining, buoyant and sad?
Counting gets you nowhere,
It only makes you mad.

Every morning I get up,
With resolve to do a lot;
Every night I go to sleep with,
‘Is this all I’ve got?’

Pakistan is part of Western plan,
To keep India in check;
Today Kayani is their man,
Tomorrow it’d be another smart Aleck.

Those who can’t see,
Because they are blind;
Are still better than those,
Who can’t see because of closed mind.

Their sacrifices are in vain,
If we ever forget Kargil;
To fight like that was insane,
Yet they captured Tiger Hill.

Why do we require Wikileaks,
To tell us what we knew all along;
That Pakistan’s support for Taliban,
Took US for a song?

WISH LIST FOR INDIA

India has been a poor country – a very poor country. Suddenly, in the last decade or so, because of our spectacular GDP growth and probably because of the US need to balance China, India started being talked about as a country with great future..a great regional and global power. The fact is that GDP growth is and for a handful of people; the majority of the people has not gained by it. We have more poor in India than all in all the 26 countries of Africa. Our general quality of life and our infrastructure rank amongst the worst in the world. We are amongst the best for wrong reasons like corruption.


Is there no hope for India to become a great nation?

Well, actually there is. India can be a great nation IF:

  • We talk less of freedoms and more about our responsibilities towards the nation.
  • We stop looking at the interests of the small rich minority and look at the interests of the poor.
  • Our people become less selfish about themselves and START to think about the nation.
  • We do something about our abysmally poor infrastructure.
  • We instil discipline in our people especially those who are our netas (leaders). Right now we rank with de most indisciplined.
  • We take ourselves more seriously whilst asking this of US and the rest of the world.
  • We get rid of such individual and collective amnesia. We forget all – including severe insults to nation.
  • We have the courage and good sense to call to task both these so called “public servants”.
  • Our institutions will work for everyone and not for just for the favoured few.
  • Our justice system improves and it does not take decades to decide even the most ordinary cases.
  • We behave like a nation and not parochially like states, castes, communities and provinces.
  • We take our neighbours along the path of progress. We cannot be lotus in filth around us.
  • We revere our scientists, teachers, jawans (soldiers), doctors and engineers more than Bollywood stars, godmen and netas (politicians).
  • We stop defecating, spitting and urinating at public places and keep our places clean.
  • We curb our littering habits and do away with the filth that adorns our cities, towns and villages.
  • We have proper road signs rather than asking hundreds of people how to reach your destination. Right now it is a nightmare.
  • The police in our country becomes less corrupt and people repose faith and trust in it.
  • Our fierce religiosity is replaced by kindness and love and respect for all irrespective of caste, colour and creed.
  • Movies like ‘Slumdog Millionaire’ fill us with resolve to change our lot rather than bask in glory.
  • We spend less time on planning and more on implementation.
  • We think of India all the while and not just in the last over of a twenty-20 match.
  • We do not try to make money for ourselves even in disasters and calamities.
  • We are in as much hurry to do things for de nation as in getting out cell phones in just landed aircraft.
  • We ban criminals from entering politics; if we have minimum acceptable standards for netas (politicians) as we have for other professions.
  • Our intellectuals take up people’s issues rather than only those that earn them popularity.
  • We stop depending on America to sort out problems caused by Pak terrorism.
  • Our transportation improves and becomes people friendly.
  • The costs of our constructions come down and quality goes up. Presently, it is the other way round.
  • We understand other people’s privacy whilst partying and participating in religious processions.
  • Whilst running after modernisation we do not forget our ancient culture and values.
  • We do not beg the world on our knees to be given a seat in UN Security Council but prove ourselves worthy.
  • We do away the lengthy process of compiling and writing Inquiry Reports but do something, however little.
  • We give more impetus to shipping, fishing and other maritime activities that languish in comparison to land based activities.
  • We improve tourism and make our places more attractive to foreigners as compared to the present punishment for them.
  • Rains and other natural phenomena do not make life come to a standstill even in our major cities.
  • Even if 5 % of promises of politicians before elections had come true India would have become the best in the world.
  • Men of character join politics and think of nation first and themselves last.
To be continued…….

EVER THOUGHT WHY – PART I

Sometimes back, on Twitter, I started a new string called ‘Ever Thought Why’. The idea was to marvel at commonplace things and why do they happen the way you do. Here are some:

  • People who claim to be the most virtuous are often the worst?
  • Memories that you thought you had buried forever resurrect when you least expect them?
  • People who bring most happiness to you also hurt you the most?
  • Clouds make lovely shapes in the sky but these shapes vanish the moment you start to identify them?
  • It is easier to forgive others but very difficult to forgive yourself?
  • When buses and trains meet with accidents infants and small children often survive?
  • Life seems longer at times and shorter at others?
  • Thoughts that used to make you happy at one time, make you sad now?
  • You fume, fret and toil to get something but finally you get it without too much of effort?
  • A stashed away note, poem or story gives more joy on being re-found than when you originally read it?
  • Scorching sun lasts the whole day but that enchanting sunset over the sea gets over even before you start admiring it?
  • When you are closest to solving a problem it is exactly the time when the distractions are the most?
  • People have little time to listen to your problems; but, can talk for hours about their own?
  • The music of younger generation will always be annoying to the older generation?
  • Thirty years appear a long time when you look ahead but appear so short when you look back?
  • Butterflies are so beautiful but they never sit at the same place for any length of time?
  • When you have Time and Money you no longer have the Inclination?
  • Some days are longer than others that pass off so quickly?
  • Those we place on high pedestal often slip to the lowest levels?
  • Money is never enough!
  • We easily forget the things we want to remember but find hard to forget those we want to?
  • Most people prevaricate and come up with exalted theories when faced with the truth and facts?
  • Green grass rushes in more memories than the best plants and trees?
  • There is no higher feelig than Love but many a times it also makes you feel at your lowest?
  • The ‘Possibility’ of a thing occurs to us when we say “It’s not possible”?
  • When you finally come to the end you discover it is another beginning?
  • Life’s always talked about as behind us whereas it is what lies ahead; where one is going is more important than where one was.
  • It takes many things to make a person happy but it takes very little to make him sad?
  • Things never work unless we make them work?
  • It is easier to give advice than to follow it?
  • A towel should ever get dirty?
  • We resolve not to see another Bollywood movie or to see a Cricket match but we always do?
  • When one makes up one’s mind never to repeat a mistake one is not given another chance?
  • We call a person very interesting? Well, simply because he is a good listener?
  • People are bad when they cannot keep their word; but, when you break a promise it was unreasonable demand to start with?
  • Love too needs to be nurtured and cannot be left to itself to grow and become stronger?
  • Tears and rain have the same ingredient but the former is really more precious?
  • One can be totally alone amongst friends too; conversely, totally crowded by just one person around?
  • It requires courage to do things right away but cowardice to keep postponing it?
  • It always starts with a bang but ends with a whimper?
  • The words “next time” do not quite bring out the sincere intention but sound more as an excuse?

WHY HOPE?

There is the story of a doctor having told a patient that he had tried everything to save the patient and had finally come to the conclusion that nothing would work at that hopeless stage. “Is there anything that you would want to do before you die?” the doctor asked. Even though the patient was feeble and despondent, his response was prompt, “Yes, I would like to see another doctor.” Truly, life exists for us as long as hope exists. Robert Browning, the great poet of hope and optimism, in his poignant poem titled ‘Evelyn Hope’, had this to say at her death:

“So hush, I’ll give you this leaf to keep,
See, I put it in the cold white hand.
Now there is our secret that goes to sleep;
You will wake up and remember and understand!”

We may not be aware but a considerable part of our day is taken up with hopes. These are routine hopes. Small or big but they keep us going. Here are a few examples:

  • We hope that the number that we have dialed, especially if it is that of Railway or Airport Enquiry would not be engaged.
  • We hope that the milkman or the maidservant won’t be sick the next morning.
  • We hope that Indian and especially Mumbai roads would improve.
  • We hope that there won’t be a wedding party in the club next door so that children could study.
  • We hope that finally after finishing the work around the house when we step into the bathroom the water won’t play truant.
  • We hope that no one would ring the doorbell when we watch our favourite TV programme.
    We hope that the boss in office won’t think of another new and bright idea.
  • We hope that when finally we get our turn, the doctor won’t be called for “something important”.
  • We hope that sanity would somehow return to Pakistan.
  • We hope that finally we would be able to repay the house loan so that we can start calling it ‘Apna Ghar’.
  • We hope that the next Hindi movie that we watch would have a different story.
  • We hope that one day the duration of TV programmes would be more than that of the advertisements.
  • We hope that our politicians, bureaucrats, and police personnel would understand the true meaning of the term ‘public servant’.
  • We hope that the noise during the forthcoming festival season would be restricted and public places such as roads would be free for the use for which they are made.

There is no end to it. We hope and hope and hope. Sometimes, some of our hopes come true directly or indirectly and make us happy. However, always it is worth hoping for. Our son, for example, is a die-hard Indian cricket team fan. They can be 143 for 6, requiring another two hundred runs to win but he still hopes that they would win. Once he was proved right, the night when even Kaif’s parents went to see ‘Devdas’ rather than be witness to sure ignominy. Since then, it is not he but we who hope. We hope that there won’t be another ODI during the exams!

Hope is like sunshine through the clouds. It is like raindrops on parched land. Hope is a lighthouse by which we steer our ship in troubled waters. However, hopes transcend the boundaries of mere wants and desires when we do so selflessly. Supposing all people on earth would hope that poverty, hunger and violence would be wiped out forever; do you think they would stay? Supposing some of us would hope to see the smile on the face of a child who lost his parents in bomb blasts, do you think it would never come back? How wonderful the world would be if each of us would hope for something for others at least once in a month!

The other day I was reading about Mata Amritanandamayyi. Why would everyone, from famous to rich, from poor to hungry, from strong to helpless come to see her or be hugged by her? She hopes for others and provides them with a ray of hope.

Yes, it is alright to hope for promotion, for a better house, for a gift or reward, for a holiday and more pay. It is even okay to hope for “zara si lift kara de.” However, once in a while one must hope something for others.

“Lead kindly light,
Keep thou my feet.
I don’t want to see
The distant scene;
One step enough for me.”

In a small village called Ayikuddy near Tirunelvelli, my wife and I went to see a polio rehabilitation centre called ‘Amar Seva Sangam’ and discovered the very embodiment of Hope. The President and all staff of the centre are invalid. The President, Mr Ramakrishnan, is so paralytic that he requires help to even turn in bed. His condition became so when he had an accident many years ago at the time when he was about to join the Navy as a commissioned officer. Yet when we saw him he had the most beatific smile on his face. He runs a centre that provides succour to other polio stricken children. In his hopeless situation he provides hope to hundreds of young boys and girls! After that whenever our own situation is unfavourable, our faces light up when we think of him.

Hope never dies. Next only to Life, it is the second greatest gift of God to us. Why hope? Hope, so as to live better and make others live better. Some four letter words are not bad at all!

TRIP TO SHAHDOL AND JABALPUR IN MADHYA PRADESH

Photo essay of my visit to Shahdol (Suhagpur) and Jabalpur in Madhya Pradesh where my company, Reliance, has Coal Bed Methane gas-wells over an area of 1000 sq km. Hence, I had to visit remote villages, forests and fields.

Two boys washing their bicycle in a pond. Easy availability of water during the monsoons has led to greenery everywhere (Photo taken from train near Annupur, 30 mins short of Shadol

A view of National Highway 78. It must look good on the map! This was a good stretch; you should see the bad stretches. PM Rajiv Gandhi once said only 23 paise out of one rupee actually reaches the roads; rest gets pocketed. The present estimate is less than 23 paise.

As compared to Punjab, Haryana, HP, wayside dhabas are rare. Indeed, from Shahdol to Jabalpur there are hardly any eating joints.

Large tracts of fertile land with no cultivation. The cattle feed on wild grass and bushes

Wilderness!


We actually drove through this pond!


A security post in the middle of nowhere!

Most villages we saw had water, electricity, SBI and BSNL connection


A Mahua Tree. Its fruit is intoxicating and is used for making local brew by the same name. The left dry side of the tree is where lightening fell just a day prior to my visit killing four cows on the spot.

Closer look at the verdant Mahua tree.


We went through some really thick vegetation. It was scary due to palpable fear of Naxalites but the DC and SP of the area told me later that the area is “relatively safe”

Ballu Yadav, my driver, all of twenty, started driving at the age of 17 years. He could handle this Bolero with skill even in the tough terrain and I felt totally safe with him.


Sone river in full spate because of incessant rains. This part of MP has plenty of water.



With all the progress it is still bare minimum amenities in the villages. Ballu told me that a girl child gets a lot of incentives through ‘Laadli Lakshmi’ scheme and even the Adivasis get monetary remuneration on filing complaints against harrassment.

Highway? No place for another vehicle to cross. It must look good as a thick line on a map! Anyway, this is the heart of coal mines, illegal smuggling of coal etc. I met one such Don who was attired as a Swami but rolls in money and power due to coal smuggling.


Are we not lucky we have highways (!) running through the length and breadth of our country?

At some places in East Suhagpur the highway was in good state.


Pradhan Mantri Grameen Sadak Yojna also seems to have made huge difference.


At many places under the Yojana concretisation of roads has been done.

Viraat temple in Shahdol; built in the year 1759. A few years later, due to earthquake one portion of the temple sank into the earth. What stands now is leaning like the tower in Pisa. It is a Shiva temple; people refer to it as Teda Mandir

A view of the Bhedaghat waterfall near Jabalpur. The Narmada river falls with such velocity that it makes water vapour to rise. Hence, it is named Dhuandaar at this stage

A breathtaking view of the Dhuandaar.

A cable car is a great attraction for the tourists and goes over the falls.

The river is lined by marble rocks on both sides. These are looking dirty due to the rains, but, at other times I am told that the marble is so white that it shines enchantingly in moonlight

Downstream, the river settles into a more placid one allowing boating to take place except during monsoons.

f For Freedom

She was a model

A model of haute couture.

So high that it was designed directly by God.

Pot-bellied men and voluptuous women

Sat awaiting the next item.

And then, she walked along the catwalk

Not flaunting but apologetic

Of her near nudity.

Tattered clothes barely covering her.

A young body, all of fifteen years.

A small child

In the crook of her left arm,

Held as a prize, a memento for

The depravity and avarice of men

A wonderful fashion statement!

She looked straight ahead

At the pole bearing the tri-colour,

A remarkable symbol of

Sixty-three years of independence.

A sign of our freedom.

Freedom from what?

Well, never mind, freedom,

F-R-E-E-D-O-M and Independence.

She walked right up to the tiranga

And tugged at the rope

And brought down the flag

And wrapped it around her and the child.

And then for the final denouement

She brought out a bowl

And held it out

From beneath the Ashoka Chakra

To the guardians of fashion;

f”, she said, “Always stood for food”.

 

Footnote: Let’s not forget it when we celebrate our Independence Day yet again.

 

URDU – A LANGUAGE OF THE HEART

Ours was a Punjabi family but I spent all my childhood in Himachal because my father was posted there in the horticulture department. My schooling was entirely in Himachal and after the schooling I was amongst the first batch of students to have got a Pre-Engineering degree from the newly established Himachal University in 1970-71.

The second language in our school was Urdu. In the Government School, Chamba, our Urdu teacher was a very hard taskmaster and looked for any opportunity to cane us on our hands. We used to cringe more because of receiving this chastisement in front of girl students than with the physical torture. Indeed, we had made various jokes and couplets about what we would do to Urdu, the teacher and the school, if given a chance. Our favourite was, “Ain gan (Urdu alphabets) school dhale tanh mundya nu chan” (Ain gan, if the school would collapse, boys would be relieved).

Little did I know at that time that I would be in love with the language. I was just stepping into boyhood and the language seemed to me the answer to my emotional needs and curiosity. I discovered that Urdu had a way of expressing feelings that no other language can match. Many other languages are direct, in-your-face, but, Urdu’s lehza (style) is to always express things indirectly. We had a joke about the effrontery of Punjabi or Hindi or even English in something as routine as introducing one self in comparison to an Urdu person who would say, “Khak dar khak, khuda-e-pak, khuda ke bande ko Akhtar miyan ke naam se pukarte hain“. An Urdu person won’t directly claim to be Akhtar but that he, the insignificant being, is called by that name.

No one can beat the humility of an Urdu person. He is a ghulam (slave) and his abode, however ostentatious it might be, is always the gharib-khana (the poor house).

However, the aspect in which Urdu really excels is in expressing matters of the heart. For example, “Mujhe tumse mohabbat hai magar main keh nahin sakta” (I am in love with you but I cannot say it!)

Literal meanings of words are never necessary when you use the language of the heart. One would say ‘Silence’ and ‘Khamoshi’ have the same meaning until you hear:
Rafta rafta bujha jaata hai chirag-e-aarzoo,
Pehle dil khamosh tha, ab zindagi khamosh hai
(Gradually the lamp of my desires extinguishes; first my heart became khamosh, now my life has).

You can say things in Urdu that would sound so rude in other languages. Take this from Ghulam Ali’s ghazal:
Shaam ko subhe chaman yaad aa’ii;
Kiski khushboo-e badan yaad aa’ii
Translated crudely (and I am not even attempting to do it) it would evoke the tease that perhaps she should start using better deodrant.

Being a language of the heart, Urdu writers and poets normally plunge deeper than in other languages. Taste this of Mehdi Hassan:

Ik zara sa gham-e-dauran ka bhi haq hai jis par,
Maine woh saans bhi tere liye rakh chhodi hai.
Tujhpe ho jaaoonga qurbaan tujhe chahoonga,
Main to mar ke bhi meri jaan tujhe chahoonga;
Zindagi mein to sabhi pyaar kiya karte hain
(Rather than giving full meaning, suffice it to say that the poet conveys that many people love in their lives but I shall love you even after I die. In the last breath people normally remember their Maker, but even that breath I have saved for you).

Here is my own (infantile) attempt:

Khud ko mujhse itna bhi na tu door samajh,
Apne parwaane ko itna bhi na majboor samajh.
Main agar chahoon to itni bhi hai taqat mujh mein,
Yaad ko teri main ik tu hi bana sakta hoon.
Ik to tu hai meri har baat ko samjhe vehshat,
Apni us tu ko main har ik baat suna sakta hoon.
Gham nahin gar tu lakh bhi roothe mujhse,
Apni us tu ko main jab chahe mana sakta hoon.
(Once again no full translation but the thought that: ‘My love, do not think you are that far from me or that I am totally helpless. I have the power to turn your memory into you! This ‘you’ will always be mine’).

All those who are ruled by the heart find a natural bonding with Urdu.

Remember Mirza Ghalib? Here goes:

Dil-e naadan tujhe hua kya hai,
Aakhir is marz ki dawa kya hai?”

There is no cure; but who the hell wants to be cured?

Urdu is for those whose hearts beat in love even after life.

CAMARADERIE OR CRONYISM?

A few years back, a retiring C-in-C of the Western Naval Command openly bemoaned, in his farewell speech, the scourge of “cronyism” that had started to plague the Indian Navy. One could do nothing right unless one was in the good books of some flag officer or the other; conversely, if one happened to be the favourite of a senior officer, one could never do anything wrong. It reminded me of an industrialist facilitating a young employee in a public function, “Today, we have gathered here to facilitate young Rajkumar on his achievements in the company. Two years back he joined our company as an Assistant Manager. A few months later because of his hardwork he was promoted to become Deputy Manager. His dedication soon saw him become a Manager. He continued to do well and within a year of his joining the company, he became a General Manager. Today, ladies and gentlemen, with his sterling qualities, Rajkumar has become a Vice President. Now what do you have to say, young man?” Rajkumar takes the mike and simply says, “Thank you, papa”.

In the Indian Navy, the phenomenon is not just to do with promotions; it is also to do with appointments including ships to command and foreign deputations, one’s pecking order in social functions, success of one’s ventures such as refits or exercises, command tenure, perks and dealing with support organisations. There was a time when individuals ran the Navy; now, it is similar to any organisation with parochial pulls and pushes, say, Hockey India or BCCI. In such a setup, should you want to stand as an individual you cannot succeed. You would be declared a pariah. You cannot get anything done against the general flow; no one would hold your hand. You are most likely to be labelled as the person who is “negative” and cannot get along well with anyone.

Sadly, this has come about at a time when the Navy went through the Transformation process. Two of its goals were to empower people at various levels and promote out-of-box thinking. Both traits are those of upright individuals and not of brown nosing men with a desire to belong to one camp or the other. I am not suggesting that every individual has to be maverick; but, at this juncture the cloning of people is so complete that it is frightening. I am sure a few years later the Navy will certainly realise that it permitted cronyism to become a scourge and that did more damage to the Navy than any other evil. But, until then, parichialism in one form or the other remains alive and kicking.

Cronyism is not to be confused with the healthy trait of camaraderie, which is dying down. I have seen senior officers who were great friends and swore by each other fall apart the moment they are to be considered for promotion and only some of them would make it. I have seen people retiring after decades of service and they are forgotten the moment they leave. I retired after thirty-seven years of service including training time and there was not a single officer who called us for a farewell dinner or get-together. I must be a bad example because of my stress on individality; but, I came across, in a social gathering, a couple who were very popular when in service. However, during that gathering since they had retired they sat alone. In the Navy, your goodwill ceases as soon as your perceived ‘power’ and ‘influence’ goes. That’s the way it must be elsewhere too, say, on the civvie street; but, a uniformed service should be proudly promoting camaraderie and esprit-de-corps. Alas, both are victims of what is described as “cut-throat competition” and the flaming desire to somehow get ahead of others.

As India takes rapid strides to become a major global player there is greater awareness of maritime challenges and opportunities than ever before. Indian Navy would be the enabling force to squarely meet these. It is a fine service but for sometime it has allowed personnel policies to deteriorate and start resembling personal policies. Ascendancy of cronyism and decline of camaraderie have been the fallouts. We need to bring the ship on even keel before we sail ahead with confidence.

ADS AND MOSQUITOES

At first glance there appears to be nothing common between the two; but, look closely and you will find various similarities. To start with both keep you from enjoying the scenery or whatever else you are watching, for example, the TV. Then, both have this quality that if you zap one there are many more to reckon with. Yet another similarity is that in a city like Mumbai both are everywhere; there is no way you can ignore them.Mumbai authorities are convinced that the essential reason you are out driving is because you are fed up of ads on the TV and are ready for the real thing, that is, the hoardings. So, if you want to go anywhere, say, the airport, you would find huge ads where you expect the road signs to be. On your way North, after you cross Mahim, there are two small boards guiding you to turn left towards the airport and a pair of helpful cops who assist you in getting rid of the extra money you should not have been carrying anyway. They are placed there because they know people would take the wrong turn in the absence of signs.

In any other developed city of the world, billboards are just a few and certainly not there spoiling the view. But, in Mumbai…well, in a way, hoardings prevent you from the direct view of people doing what they ought to have been doing indoors. If Japan is the land of the Rising Sun, Mumbai is no different; at many many places it is the land of the rising bums after they have finished doing their job.

Why only Mumbai? You can drive anywhere in India and you can see we have ruined the view of most picturesque sites, lush green fields, and hills by erecting huge hoardings.

Ads on the TV? Anyone who has watched a movie on any of our movie channels will tell you that we have ten minutes ads after every ten minutes. Essentially these make no difference to your understanding of the plot. In most Hindi movies you know the ending even before the movie starts and you are there only to watch the rain-dance. However, most of your patience wears out when there are ads just before the long awaited ending.

You want to watch a cricket match? Well, these days they are able to put in up to seven ads between two overs. In the IPL matches they even give each team Strategic Time-out so that they can squeeze in another thirty ads. Listening to songs on music channels is another experience in catching up with the latest brands being sold. Just in case you are one of the rare watchers actually interested in a match or a song, it frustrates you to observe that whenever the ads are displayed the volume automatically goes up.

I guess there is one aspect in which the similarity between ads and mosquitoes ends and that is that – if you have seen ads on the TV about it – any number of sprays and coils are available in the market to keep the mosquitoes out; but, there is none to keep the ads out. Your ‘choice’ has already been made like those people in the villages of Bihar who find their votes have already been cast when they reach the polling booth after walking tens of miles.

A QUIETER MUMBAI – IS IT A PIPE DREAM?

 

Causing unwanted noise is the worst way to intrude on other people’s privacy. It is like blowing smoke into a non-smoker’s face. And yet, over the last few years, ‘noise’ has become a menace far greater than many others such as indiscriminately thrown garbage, defecation and urination in public places, traffic violations and tarnishing historical monuments with such informed graffiti as ‘Kallu loves Tarunnam.’

Much of the noise is generated during the festival season that is fast approaching. The most ironical thing is that unlike other ‘unlawful activities’ against which the authorities protect you (or pretend to protect), when it comes to noise, the same authorities take a stand that time deadline for causing noise should be extended in order “to respect people’s sentiments”!

Could it be that the gods are in a deep slumber and need to be woken up with such aural bursts of our devotion? No it cannot be. Our scriptures are full of tales whence gods got annoyed with people for noisily disturbing their meditation and even slumber and ‘punished’ the intruders with curses (‘shraap’).In our times, I know for sure, that majority of us who are trying to sleep or study or simply doing our thing, cringe with irritation when the noisy procession passes our way.

Why are we like this? Were we always like this? Shashi Tharoor, writing about Amartya Sen’s book ‘The Argumentative Indian’ in Newsweek of 24 Oct 05, brought out an interesting observation. “Sen”, he wrote, “is particularly critical of the Western overemphasis on India’s religiosity at the expense of any recognition of the country’s equally impressive rationalist, scientific, mathematical and secular heritage. According to Sen, “That scientific spirit of inquiry can also be seen in ancient India.” His book cites 3,500-year-old verses from the Vedas that speculate skeptically about creation, and details India’s contribution to the world of science, rationality and plural discourse – fields generally treated by Orientalists as ‘western spheres of success’.”

I too spoke with an Acharya, a PhD in Vedas, who told me that a great country like ours was not just named after Shakuntla’s son ‘Bharat’ but that Bharat is a combination of two words ‘Bha’, that is, ‘Intellect’ and ‘Rat’, that is, ‘Absorbed in’; thereby depicting the people of a nation ‘Absorbed in Intellectualism’. This is certainly far removed from the ‘sentiments of the people’ hogwash given to us by the authorities and trumpeted by the westerns who are fascinated by our lack of intellect and hence, the ability to compete with them.The Acharya told me that when Chinese pilgrims Fa-Hein and Huien-Tsang visited India in the 5th and 7th centuries AD (during the Gupta dynasty), they were impressed by the scholarly pursuits of our people and Brahmins.Indeed, Baidyanath Saraswati has brought out in ‘Swaraj in Education’ how Kashi (now Varanasi or Benaras) grew into a great seat of learning surpassing other civilisational centres of the world including Rome and Mecca.

Thus, even though our scriptures bring out the virtues of ‘scholarly pursuits’, ‘a quiet mind (maun) and ‘meditation’ (samadhi and dhyan), we are becoming increasingly noisier. We, arguably, make more noise than most other people.Other than the religious processions, let us consider a few examples of how we express these ‘sentiments’:

  • We express our glee at the traffic lights turning green by collectively honking; those who are farther from the lights honking louder than those who are closer.
  • We announce to the whole world our daughter or son’s marriage by joyously bursting crackers and beating drums; beating drums being an ancient art-form we imported from the jungles of Africa as their only means of communication.
  • During election time we make all our tall promises through loudspeakers since we are convinced that our countrymen, like we ourselves, are hard of hearing.
  • Whilst driving we honk profusely at anyone who dares to cross our way.Indeed, it is rumoured that many of our countrymen consider it an emergency when their vehicle horns break down but don’t mind such ‘small’ defects as brakes and indicating lights not functioning.
  • We never deprive our immediate neighbours and indeed the entire neighbourhood of the healing benefits of our ‘quality music’, whenever we throw a party. If they don’t come to know that ‘it’s the time to disco’, we feel that we haven’t done our public duty.
  • Whilst watching our favourite TV programme we notice that the volume automatically goes up when the ads appear so that we don’t miss out on the essential reasons for televising a programme.
  • In public debates we win most arguments by lung power. Indeed, ‘the bigger the better’ is not merely a male fantasy with us. Creator of bigger noise, male or female, is automatically considered more powerful.

So, in the coming festive season, let us express our joyous sentiments more silently, rather than making these into a ‘tamasha’.Let us awaken God within us rather than without through conches, cymbals, drums, crackers and loudspeakers. Let’s us not automatically include others in our revelry but respect their privacy as much as we want others to respect ours. Let’s not give a new meaning to the expression, “Lend me your ears”!

IF YOU DRIVE IN INDIA – PART I

This article has my tweets on the thread #ifudriveinindia. Comedy and humour apart, more people die of road accidents in India than in any other country in the world. It is because of our peculiar driving habits. One of the old Hindi movies had this song: “Zindagi ik safar hai suhana, yahan kal kya ho kisne jana?” (Life is a pleasant journey; but, no one knows what will happen tomorrow). Well, whilst driving in India you have no idea of what will happen the next moment. Read on; these tweets may be of some use to foreigners desirous of driving in India or even Indians not yet totally initiated.

 

If you drive in India:

  • You should remember that Indians neither keep to the left nor to the right but keep to wherever they feel they have least resistance.
  • Remember that honking is not just for emergency; it signifies, e.g., that car behind you is in hurry whilst you stop for the red light.
  • And the vehicle ahead gives right or left indicator, it doesn’t mean he wants to turn left or right. He may be just testing the situation.
  • You can only survive by being as consistently chaotic as the others; everyone expects you to do wrong!
  • Remember that at traffic lights the vehicle at the end of the lane will try to be the first to cross the lights.
  • Please get a piercing toned horn fitted; you would require it more than any other instrument, e.g., brake, indicators, and wipers.
  • Remember a stopped vehicle on roadside is dangerous; it would suddenly start and come in the way when you are about to cross.
  • You can be a menace to others around you by following traffic rules since no one else does!
  • You should always inform your next-of- kin because chances of survival are the same as being in the way of stampede by mad bulls.
  • And a traffic cop stops you, be prepared to shell out a few hundred bucks because all traffic cops in India demand bribe.
  • In the cities, remember that at traffic lights and toll plazas all vehicles would be jumping lanes to be ahead of the next vehicle.
  • You should know that people are always crossing the roads including highways and traffic doesn’t have exclusive right of the way.
  • And stop at a red traffic light, you should know that not everyone would stop. In the absence of a cop many would just go.
  • You should know that a person, cow, auto-rickshaw, dog, push cart, beggar, vendor etc can come in front of your car any time.
  • Road maps are of little use because names of roads and streets often change in honour of political leaders.
  • Remember that a vehicle being overtaken will start overtaking another just at that moment and you will be embarrassed or land up in dangerous state.
  • Remember that if sometimes you actually find road signs these may not tell you the right direction.
  • Remember that authorities feel that hoardings are more important than road signs.
  • And have to go anywhere be prepared to ask hundreds for directions since Indians don’t believe in road signs.
  • And meet with an accident, pray that you land up in hospital with minor injuries before the other party can break your bones.
  • You will never be the same person at the end of your journey.

ROGER OUT

No, this is not the end of radio communications; Roger is the name of our Labrador retriever. Like any retriever he is happiest when he is out. He is all of eleven now and is tamed a bit; but, when he was small, keeping him indoors was a major task. He would take off in a direction we would least expect him to and all of us would run after him enacting the wild goose chase. He always came first in those races but we were the firsts to tire ourselves out. Minutes later when we would return, huffing and puffing, with soiled clothes, bruised hands, arms and legs, he would hover around excitedly to savour the effect of his latest jaunt.

When he was very small, during one of such feral runs, he fell into a pond next to the lawn. I saw him and thought he was struggling to keep himself afloat. So, with my clothes on (there was no time to remove) I jumped into the pond and rescued him. I dried hi m with a towel, all the time muttering sympathies and reassuring that all was going to be well now that I had done the chivalrous thing. However, no sooner had I finished drying that he made a dash for the pond again and there he was happily swimming with an accusing look on his face for having spoiled a good thing that he had accidently discovered.

His love for the water always kept us on our toes and always wet. We took him to a beach; Roger did not like it that we were taking time to settle down and get into swimming dress. So, no sooner had we taken off the leash, that he became part of the marine life, as far away from our reach as possible. Most people on the beach were left wondering why our family loved to be in the sea… with all clothes on.

When out for a walk Roger is convinced that there are hidden treasures to be found under the most inaccessible rocks, thorniest bushes, and most inhospitable swamps. One has to be on total alert when walking near grass or water. Like advice given to drivers on Indian roads, you take your attention away for a split second and you will be surprised to see the mess you will find yourself in. At the end of it there is no way you can get angry with him because he has perfected the innocent-ididnotdoanything-look. More often than not he expects to be patted and fussed over for his sincere efforts.

Many a times Roger has put me in embarrassing positions. He would walk at his normal brisk pace and then slow down immediately behind a lady walking alone. The lady would give furtive and accusing glances because it would very much appear like stalking. My muttering of, “Good boy, Roger, lets walk faster” would be seen by the lady as a ploy to blame my reprehensible act on a poor innocent dog. The more it would take to get him to cross the more would be my mortification. And the moment we’d cross, and I thank God for having avoided a scene, Roger would stall like a car with a flat tyre. I try to become invisible on such occasions but it does not help.

Roger is the darling of all the children and I do not know what they see in him.
“Uncle can we touch him?” a girl would ask.
“Yes, but why do you ask?” is my normal response.
“Because he looks so ferocious”
“Ah, then why do you want to touch him?”
“Because he looks so cute, too”
So, that’s Roger for you, a true Geminian’s dog.
Roger, out.

A SMALL HUT BY A JOYOUS BROOK

1
It was a day to remember. For quite some time clouds were making thicker and darker the partition between the earth and the sky. Suraj had expected it; he had carried an umbrella whilst leaving his home for the college in the morning. He loved the rains even though his name meant ‘Sun’. He had often wanted to walk in the drizzle, preferably with the girl he was in love with. However, he had often wondered if she would be even aware of his having these feelings for her. Whilst sitting in the class he had frequently looked towards her and at one time he was emboldened to throw a paper plane in her direction; but, the plane had landed near the physics teacher and he was expelled from the class for the remaining afternoon session. He was, therefore, contemplating more practical methods of communicating with her than being at the mercy of the aerodynamics of his paper inventions.

She had evoked feelings in him that were hitherto strange to him. He was not quite able to decide as to what exactly attracted him to her; it could be a number of things: she had the most beautiful black eyes that could be called dreamy. Her entire being exuded innocence, an innate vulnerability, so that anyone around her would be naturally protective of her. She always looked aloof as if she did not quite belong. He had recently and secretly started writing poems about her and in one of those he had written that she might have descended from another planet. When he read the poem back, it did not sound like a very original idea since Hindi movies were already showing ‘the dream sequence’ in which the heroine stepped out of the half moon. But, in his dreams he had seen her stepping out of the half moon many times and he was always there to lead her down the steps. He was not sure whether the idea had come to him first or those smart blokes in the Hindi movies.

Not only in the class, Suraj’s eyes had followed her everywhere. During the lunch breaks she would go with her friends to the pine grove in the college compound where they would eat out of their tiffin boxes; she was with them but she was also alone. He loved that detached look. Many a times he thought of following her to the water tap where, after the lunch, she would wash the box. But, he did not. It was not as if he was a coward; it was just that if she would spurn him it would break his reverie. He had realized during early stages of his childhood that whether he became a doctor or an engineer or an Indian Administrative Services officer that his father wanted him to become; or a navy man that he had set his heart on after reading books and seeing movies, he would always be a dreamer.

One favourite habit of his was to time his departure from the college in such a way that as he walked back home he would be fifty to sixty steps behind her. She invariably walked with her friends but in his way of thinking, the intimacy between them, such as it were, was bound to increase if they walked the same way together even if separated by a few steps. Invariably, in the Hindi movies (nobody had yet started bastardizing their name by calling them Bollywood movies) when the hero and the heroine were finally portrayed happily in love, the scene would fade into their walking together on a path leading to the sunset.

Today too he was a few steps behind her. However, today was a special day since she walked alone. His eyes had followed her activities in the afternoon; she had wanted to spend some time in the library and the friends had not waited for her. He, in any case always walked alone. For one thing, he had reckoned that if one or more of his friends were to walk with him, there was nothing stopping them from falling in love with her too and then he would have had unwanted competition.

It started drizzling – a very light drizzle. He had the umbrella with him but he did not open it since in his dream of walking with her in the drizzle there was to be no umbrella. Love blooms without artificial shelter he had mused. It happened in Barsaat ki Raat (A Rainy Night) when rain drops trickled down the tresses and strove to pause on the petal like cheeks of Madhubala (Exact words: “Hai yeh reshmi zulfon se tapakta paani; phul se gaalon pe rukne ko tarsata paani). Even Raj Kapoor and Nargis, though they stood under an umbrella in Barsaat (Rain) had little use of it when they decided to enjoy the togetherness in the shower. He had already noticed that she carried no umbrella and that suited him. But, as the drizzle increased in intensity he was filled with fear that she might stop to seek shelter and his walking in the drizzle with her, which he had begun to enjoy like a dream come true, would be cut short.

So, he opened his umbrella and ran to catch up with her. He soon realized that it was a mistake; he could have run to catch up with her and opened the umbrella later upon slowing down beside her. As he ran, the umbrella was caught up in the breeze and had opened up inside out. It was no use as a shelter to her and he was embarrassed. It took him some time to straighten it out. He offered the handle to her to hold and she did. He walked beside her without saying a word; she was in the shade of the umbrella whereas he walked in the drizzle. He felt that it was left to her to invite him inside as he could not have been so bold to share the intimacy of the small shelter. She did only when the drizzle turned to rain. “Thank you, Kiran”, he told her. “Thank me?” she said with a smile that was equivalent of glockenspiel to him, “It is your umbrella, you know”.

He walked in a daze. Many things occurred to him to tell her but he did not. He wanted to tell her that not just the umbrella but everything that he had belonged to her now. He wanted to tell her that his heart and his soul too belonged to her. He had so much to tell her about his dreams, about going together for long walks in the tea gardens, about sharing lunch boxes, about studying together for exams, about exchanging notes and letters, about singing songs together, about…

“Poor puppy”, he thought he heard her say. Why is she calling me a puppy? Ah, she must be equally in love and it is common for lovers to call each other sweet names. But, how quickly the intimacy had developed, he thought: puppy now, rabbit later and maybe even adorable cuddly teddy.

“Poor puppy”, he heard her say again and he wished she would call him some other name; but then, she added, “Look how he is getting wet”. He? He finally glanced in her direction and saw the puppy in the rain. She made him hold her books and ran to pick up the small golden pup. She picked it up and held the umbrella over him. Suraj was now outside the umbrella and silently cursed the puppy for having taken his place.

They walked like this to the junction whereat her way bifurcated from his. She wanted to give back the umbrella but he insisted that it would be good for her and the puppy and he was anyway wet. She gave him a smile and departed. He stood in the rain for quite some time trying to find a parallel with some Hindi movie or the other. In the night after dinner, as he lay in his bed dreaming about her, he realized that his own love for the canine siblings, though very strong at one time, had considerably diminished. Irresponsible bitches, he thought, who left their litter on the road.
2

 

The small wooden hut was special to him. It sat on a pebbled ground next to a gurgling brook, as if in a story book. It was barely discernible in the pine trees around it. It was exactly how he had pictured it in one of his early poems about her:

Don’t love me, O’ sweet, when we meet,
For there is less
Glee in achieving than in yearning.
From here it’s alluring,
The scent of your tress;
I get my joys in burning,
In pining, in longing
And in sorrow,
And waiting for each tomorrow.
I don’t want to strangle my dreams to death,
You, alone, sit in my dream castle
And far below
In a dark dungeon I am thrown.
I reach out my hands without catching ye,
And you outside smile at me.
And, lo! I wish not my hands were free.

Wait…wait till the pains are so much,
That they burn themselves in their own fire,
The waters of grieving river’d calm down,
The cell would break its own bars.
Then you and I’ll live away from town,
In a small hut by a joyous brook.
We’d work, we’d eat, we’d play the deep
Game of love,
And thus at last we’d sleep.

Now, she was in sleep in the same hut, a sleep from which she’d not get up again. He sat beside her body; at one time full of life, perhaps too full, and now dead. On the polished wooden floor lay a bloodied knife. The hole he had carved in her stomach with it was not visible since blood was still oozing out of it. Blood has a colour which can be made out from a distance against many a background. And then it occurred to him in a flash, as many revelations often came to him, as to why did not God make lemon coloured blood.

He touched her. There was still warmth there. He was instantly transported to another time, another era; the first touch of her hand. It was warm like the underbelly of a bird. He had electric waves going through his body. It happened the next day after his giving her the umbrella. She met him outside the classroom and returned the umbrella to him neatly folded. He put his hand to grip the handle only to realize she hadn’t taken off her hand. As he gripped it she could have instantly taken the hand away. But for some five seconds she didn’t. Later in the class he kept thinking about it if that was a sign from her, an acceptance.

That day, because of the rain, they went to the college canteen for lunch. She sat with her other friends on a table next to where he sat with his friends. The subject of discussion was rains; Deepak said he hated rains because these kept him and others from playing cricket. Sampat said he did not like being closeted in his room waiting for the rain to get over. Suraj had a faraway look when he suddenly interjected, “But I just love the rains”. It was so sudden and so sharp that there was a momentary silence on his table. Suraj was sure that Kiran had heard him because she looked at him and then took her gaze away as if he had revealed their most closely kept secret. This time there was no doubt about the intimacy.

He looked down. The blood was oozing out though not with a gush. Why, he asked himself, was he driven to do it? He had never loved anyone more and she claimed she loved him too single-mindedly. He remembered the song she sang on their first get together, “ke duniya mein aa ke kuchh na phir chaha kabhi tum ko chaah ke” (That after coming in this world, I never desired anyone, after being in love with you).

And yet, here they were together in that wooden hut. It was their hut. She was dead..he had killed her finally…and she? She had, he was sure, killed him many times with instruments worse and more blunt than the knife.

He had never wanted her to go, much less go like this. On the first vacation, after they acknowledged being in love, he sang to her a Mohammad Rafi favourite of his, “Tum chali jayogi parchhayiyan reh jayengi” (You will leave your shadows behind after you go). The song was indeed a mature and deep philosophy and it surprised her that at his age he would have that as one of the favourites in comparison to more lilting and boyish numbers of that era. But that was how he was: different, emotional, philosophical, dreamy. The song from the movie Shagun went on to add:

Sun ke is jheel ke saahil pe mili ho mujhse
jab bhii dekhunga yahin mujhko nazar aaogi
yaad mitati hai na manzar koi mit sakta hai
dur jaakar bhi tum apne ko yahin paaogi
.

(On the lonely shore of this lake you have met me
Whenever I shall see, I shall see you here
Memories of our love and its stages won’t fade
When you go away you will still find yourself here)

He had killed her…but, she would never be gone; she would always be in this small hut by the joyous brook.

With the song came the flush of memories…..

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