I know her. But I have not yet met her. To see and meet her I will have to travel all the way to Mumbai from the southern tip of Kerala. It is a tedious task.
I know her through her writings. Once in a fortnight, her column appears in a National Daily.
She has a wonderful style of writing. More than the style, I like her writing because she always writes for the down-trodden, those in the lower ladders of society, impoverishment, poverty, mal-nutrition, corruption spreading to almost all spheres in the society. I felt her writings, heartrending and often think about the 77 percent of Indians trying hard to keep both ends meet by spending below Rs.20 a day. Astonishingly and also surprisingly in the first-half of 21st century creating a defining moment in the history of India by launching Chandrayaan-I to the moon and MIP( Moon Impact Probe) kissing the moon thus making the space scientists jump with joy and hugging each other.
Now she travels across India, so I believe, by trains, buses, auto-rickshaws and even bullock-carts to even the remotest corners of our nation for searching and empathizing with the pathetic conditions of poor men, women and children and also the dangerous law and order situation, the communal clashes prevailing across India and lamenting over the innocents fate which they are forced to undergo for no fault of them.
Once I happened to read a real-life story by the writer concerning the wretched sanitary conditions in our cities and villages. In her column she wrote about her eye-witness accounts of people defecating in the open due to the lack of sanitary conditions across of nation even in the twentieth century. She made a startling disclosure in her column by disclosing that over 667 millions of Indians are getting on with their life without sanitary conditions in India often forcing them to relieve themselves in the open and also a tragic truth that ‘one out of every two persons in the World is compelled to defecate in the open is an Indian.
On going through her article, I was reminded of a short span I spent in labour camp, part of Dharavi, Asia’s largest slum. In the short span, I had to witness and even became a part of poor men in that area defecating in the open and also ugly toilets overflowing with excreta spreading even to the streets because the toilets often got blocked, with nobody to take care of and take remedial action. Horrible and nauseating sight and also experience!
Soon after reading the column, I thought about writing to her and lost no time in sending an e-mail appreciating her for finding time to write about an issue which needs immediate attention of the government. Also I wrote about the brief period of stay in the Labour camp area and my eye-witness accounts prevailing there.
On receiving my e-mail, within no time, she e-mailed me with her profound thanks and wrote about slight improvement in that area but nothing to boast about the promise of rulers transforming Mumbai into a global city and a ‘future Shanghai’ still remains a distant dream.
Later, once in a while I e-mailed her, rang her up, but though busy with her duty always without much rest often conversed me, never ignored her pleasant tone, on current topics particularly the plight of the hapless citizens of our nation.
I would try to introduce myself to her, after she took up the receiver. Happy to note here that she always recognized my voice and always in her affectionate voice, she never got angry at all and though a busy type answer to me and continue talking often inquiring about my reading and writing. Once I had happily informed her about the opening of my blog and after congratulating me she promised me to give me a feedback soon after going through the blog. Within no time, after going through the blog called me and offered her congratulations with some valuable suggestions.
My still favourite BusyBee (late Behram Contractor), you for years made us laugh and think through ‘Evening News’, ‘Mid-day’ and ‘Afternoon Despatch Courier’, through your ‘Round and About’ wherever you are now, could you write a ‘Round and About’ about this busy and generous lady appreciably in a lighter vein, thus inspiring her to go on with her writings of down-trodden, illiterate, poverty stricken millions across India with an empathetic smile.
A kind lady always worthy to be emulated in a heartless, souless world! The affection , quick response and her sensitivity, quite overwhelming to say the least! Hats off to her…
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Semi-Final To Final
Soon after the lifting of the infamous Emergency in 1977, our late Prime Minister Mrs Indira Gandhi declared elections to the Parliament. Nineteen months of authoritarian rule ended, paving a new path to the rebirth of democracy in our country. The people across India, especially those millions in North India, felt elated and they eagerly waited for a chance to approach the election day to give a fitting reply to late Mrs Gandhi by voting against her and defeating her at the hustings. Never in their wildest of dream, they had expected such an authoritarian streak in the beloved daughter of freedom fighter and the most ardent advocate of democracy late Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru. Now it was the turn of the masses and they utilized the best available opportunity to vent their ire against Mrs. Gandhi.
Because the bad effects of Emergency didn’t do much harm to some of the South Indian states like Kerala, they overwhelmingly voted in her favour but to no avail. Here the law and order situation remained calm, so it seemed to the political observers, actually the story was somewhat different and the outward calm and satisfaction somewhat the effects of enforced discipline by the iron hands of law and order machinery under the Government of Kerala (It is painful to disclose here that we malayalees are more concerned with selfish motives compared with the North Indians though majority of them are illiterate). Many of our freedom loving leaders were put behind bars, and some always under the surveillance of Police and Intelligent agencies.
The majority of North Indians suffered a lot, cruel assault, many young men and even the priests of churches across North India were forcefully sterilized under the supervision of late Sanjay Gandhi, a vast number of slums were demolished, Turkman Gate episode is still a nightmare to Delhiites, thus depriving the poor of their settlements, they had to stay content with railway platforms, street pavements and refugee camps. Those who noticed their impotent rage and sorrows protested and found themselves behind bars for almost nineteen months. That period was the worst kind of nightmare to the teeming millions of India. The villagers in the North India spent their sleepless nights in the barren fields always fearing the approach of agents of mass sterilization programmes, surprisingly the cronies of the Sanjay Gandhi, the Prime Minister in embryo. Freedom of expression curtailed and hence, the people had to express their anger in whispering tones, fearing reprisals of the worst kind.
The breather came atlast and Emergency lifted, people became jubilant and heaved sighs of relief.
People massed under the freed leaders, who were given warm welcome amid celebrations, and jointly campaigned for the defeat of late Mrs Gandhi with all their might and vigour, they earnestly hoped of ushering in a democratic government atleast to inhale breath of freedom, that they desperately prayed for nineteen months.
The ire and anger, turned into votes against Mrs Gandhi and she had to taste a bitter defeat at the hands of the majority, who once called her fondly ‘Indira Priyadarshini’ and ‘Red Rose’ , the beloved daughter of their Chacha Nehru, whom they held close to their chest with worship and love.
The whole India celebrated the new found freedom and the massive defeat of Indian National Congress Party with the bursting of fire-crackers and also tasting laddoos and like sweets. The valiant generous lady, who once loved the poor adivasis and common men and struggled for them tirelessly day in and day out, had to meet with such a defeat was in a way heart-breaking.
The most heartening factor was her expression of regret for the wrong-doings and her apology to the masses for her acts of omission commission soon after the elections. And that repentance and atonement for the sins committed and her regained faith in democracy, after all she was from the Nehru family, mellowed the sentiments of the masses in the later years and they ensured her victory in the elections conducted in 1980 with a vast majority.
In fact, those so-called loyalists and sycophants were behind her deviation from the path of democracy atleast for a short while and their only intentions were in reaping the harvests during the dreaded emergency and utilize the opportunity to settle scores with those who were their detractors and unfortunately she was falling a prey to their wily tactics. Sycophancy always plays spoil-sport and hence a ruler or a leader should always be cautious about it.
Beg your pardon. Actually I didn’t have the intention of conducting a post-mortem and its aftermaths of the emergency period in this particular article. But I think it is quite apt to look backwards in the contemporary times.
I was planning to write about the recently held by-elections to the five States and the results analysed later. Contrary to the expectations of political pundits and psephologists, the results were not on the expected lines. Some prophecies came true, I do admit, but taken as a whole, some major calculations went awry due to creeping in of certain analytical problems. Sometimes such things happen.
Some called it a semi-final before the final scheduled to be held in April-May months. Differences of opinions will ofcourse be there, because in a federal polity, we have to be a bit more cautious.
It is a good thing that Congress this time didn’t go euphoric, thanks to Mrs Sonia Gandhi’s advice because of the unexpected win in Rajasthan, snatched from BJP, Delhi victory was somewhat doubtful because of the anti-incumbency factor, (it is Mrs Sheila Dikshit’s hatrick victory) and the massive victory in Mizoram, a two third victory forcing the ruling MNF (Mizo National Front) biting the dust. It is not an apt time for complacency, Mrs Gandhi was aware of it, hence, sans much celebrations, the entire event passed of peacefully at the AICC Bhavan. According to my perception , Mrs Gandhi is conscious of those waiting for an “auspicious occasion” to upset the apple-cert in the last moment by ditching the party seeking greener pastures. “Power-Play” or “Pawar-Play” can be expected at any time, Mulayam and his deputy can turn the tables at an opportune moment and so many others in the party itself waiting in the wings, weighing the pros and cons, which way the wind blows and move accordingly. Late Mrs Indira Gandhi had such an experience in the past at the hands of the late Jagjivan Ram (incidentally his daughter is in the ManMohan Singh cabinet),H.N. Bahuguna, and one more VIP whose name I can’t recall now and formed CFD (Congress For Democracy).
BJP was weaving many dreams for the last one year, expecting to make a clean sweep of almost the four States of Rajasthan, Chattisgarh, Delhi and Madhya Pradesh but not that much expectation about Mizoram. They were infact euphoric even before the elections! That much they were confident of a massive victory. Their intention was to cash in on the terror problems in various States such as Jammu&Kashmir, Gujarat, Delhi, Mumbai, Varanasi in UP, Karnataka, AndhraPradesh, Assam,Rajasthan and even Kerala and the terror related deaths of hundreds, thus highlighting the failure of Government at the centre, the failure of intelligence agencies to sense the impending attacks, the Stock Market crash due to Global melt down, and the reluctance of centre to enact Pota-like draconian laws to contain terror and law and machinery.
But the two intelligent men in Madhya Pradesh and Chattisgarh, Shivraj Singh Chauhan and Ramon Singh respectively , didn’t harp much on the terror menace and they concentrated more on the immediate problems of the masses, took part in much of their activities, thus endearing them. People didn’t care much to ponder over the Mumbai carnage, and such kinds of law and order problems, because in the course of time, they have learnt to live with it. People always want to be concerned with their basic needs and Shivraj Singh Chauhan and Ramon Singh provided them with those needs thus ensuring their Party’s victory. Whether this line of thinking will prevail in the long run is another matter and for that we will have to wait for the final.
Like Shivraj Singh Chauhan and Ramon Singh, Mrs Sheila Dikshit in Delhi did a lot to develop the infrastructure (the transport facilities improved a lot with more than 20 flyovers), the preparations for 2010 Common Wealth Games are in full swing, and hence inspite of the intermittent terrorist attacks, finally captured her third victory.
Though Ms Mayawati, BSP Leader couldn’t make much impact on the power equations in the States, (she is said to be a king-maker) she saw to it that her voters margin had widened in four States making her Party base spreading gradually in other States, previously confined to U.P only, she is certainly to emerge a power to reckon with in the future. Her party could capture about 20 seats and seven seats in Madhya Pradesh itself.
Now come to the leftists. After the declaration of elections, I was stunned and surprised to see a small news item (some of us call it news in a nut-shell) on the top left side of “Hindu”—“Left Upbeat” with the photo of Comrade A.B.Bardhan, General Secretary of CPI. What for? I couldn’t make out. CPI couldn’t even bag a single seat in any of the four States, the CPI(M) could elect three MLAs in Rajasthan out of 34 seats they contested if I felt like laughing, forgive me Comrade. The next moment I turned the pages looking for a detailed statement by Comrade Bardhan and at last I found out. His statement was not that much an ‘upbeat item’ and it was nothing more than the prospects of the leftists in Kerala, West Bengal and Tripura. Unfortunately I can’t agree with his claim and there are reasons for it.
CPI(M) [ Communist Party Of India(Marxist) ] and other leftists due to the leftist wave prevailing in the State due to anti-incumbency factor related to the misgovernance of the then government under Oommen Chandy, and wide-spread mass-discontent, could capture almost 18 seats out of a total of 20 seats in 2004. This time the anti-incumbency factor is in favour of Indian National Congress and therefore expecting atelast 10 seats is most improbable.
Similarly in West Bengal due to the Nandigram and Singur issues and the related developments still simmering here and there, whether leftists can expect the status-quo or increase the tally is a big question mark. Any how let us hope for the best in West Bengal, unlike Kerala.
The infighting in the CPI(M) still raging on in Kerala, previously it was said to be ideological but the rivalry between the two factions have come out in to the open often crossing the barriers of ideology, I don’t think even Comrade Prakash Karat, Sitaram Yechury, and S.Ramachandran Pillai, can do much to placate the two factions at a crucial moment when the elections are round the corner. While being criticized, casting sarcastic smiles at the remarks of critics, won’t do much benefit to the party. Considering others to be ignorant of Marxist-Leninist thinking will be foolish since many of the critics are yester year activists and supporters of the Party, or leftists without any affiliations to any particular left party. Come what may, a complete overhaul is the need of the hour. A patch-up of sorts will create further problems in future particularly in a Communist Party such solutions are least expected.
Only Tripura is a sure bet, but it has only two seats to contribute.
A hung parliament is likely and therefore horse-traders will have a harvesting time. Such is our fate…Such is our lot…
Se
Because the bad effects of Emergency didn’t do much harm to some of the South Indian states like Kerala, they overwhelmingly voted in her favour but to no avail. Here the law and order situation remained calm, so it seemed to the political observers, actually the story was somewhat different and the outward calm and satisfaction somewhat the effects of enforced discipline by the iron hands of law and order machinery under the Government of Kerala (It is painful to disclose here that we malayalees are more concerned with selfish motives compared with the North Indians though majority of them are illiterate). Many of our freedom loving leaders were put behind bars, and some always under the surveillance of Police and Intelligent agencies.
The majority of North Indians suffered a lot, cruel assault, many young men and even the priests of churches across North India were forcefully sterilized under the supervision of late Sanjay Gandhi, a vast number of slums were demolished, Turkman Gate episode is still a nightmare to Delhiites, thus depriving the poor of their settlements, they had to stay content with railway platforms, street pavements and refugee camps. Those who noticed their impotent rage and sorrows protested and found themselves behind bars for almost nineteen months. That period was the worst kind of nightmare to the teeming millions of India. The villagers in the North India spent their sleepless nights in the barren fields always fearing the approach of agents of mass sterilization programmes, surprisingly the cronies of the Sanjay Gandhi, the Prime Minister in embryo. Freedom of expression curtailed and hence, the people had to express their anger in whispering tones, fearing reprisals of the worst kind.
The breather came atlast and Emergency lifted, people became jubilant and heaved sighs of relief.
People massed under the freed leaders, who were given warm welcome amid celebrations, and jointly campaigned for the defeat of late Mrs Gandhi with all their might and vigour, they earnestly hoped of ushering in a democratic government atleast to inhale breath of freedom, that they desperately prayed for nineteen months.
The ire and anger, turned into votes against Mrs Gandhi and she had to taste a bitter defeat at the hands of the majority, who once called her fondly ‘Indira Priyadarshini’ and ‘Red Rose’ , the beloved daughter of their Chacha Nehru, whom they held close to their chest with worship and love.
The whole India celebrated the new found freedom and the massive defeat of Indian National Congress Party with the bursting of fire-crackers and also tasting laddoos and like sweets. The valiant generous lady, who once loved the poor adivasis and common men and struggled for them tirelessly day in and day out, had to meet with such a defeat was in a way heart-breaking.
The most heartening factor was her expression of regret for the wrong-doings and her apology to the masses for her acts of omission commission soon after the elections. And that repentance and atonement for the sins committed and her regained faith in democracy, after all she was from the Nehru family, mellowed the sentiments of the masses in the later years and they ensured her victory in the elections conducted in 1980 with a vast majority.
In fact, those so-called loyalists and sycophants were behind her deviation from the path of democracy atleast for a short while and their only intentions were in reaping the harvests during the dreaded emergency and utilize the opportunity to settle scores with those who were their detractors and unfortunately she was falling a prey to their wily tactics. Sycophancy always plays spoil-sport and hence a ruler or a leader should always be cautious about it.
Beg your pardon. Actually I didn’t have the intention of conducting a post-mortem and its aftermaths of the emergency period in this particular article. But I think it is quite apt to look backwards in the contemporary times.
I was planning to write about the recently held by-elections to the five States and the results analysed later. Contrary to the expectations of political pundits and psephologists, the results were not on the expected lines. Some prophecies came true, I do admit, but taken as a whole, some major calculations went awry due to creeping in of certain analytical problems. Sometimes such things happen.
Some called it a semi-final before the final scheduled to be held in April-May months. Differences of opinions will ofcourse be there, because in a federal polity, we have to be a bit more cautious.
It is a good thing that Congress this time didn’t go euphoric, thanks to Mrs Sonia Gandhi’s advice because of the unexpected win in Rajasthan, snatched from BJP, Delhi victory was somewhat doubtful because of the anti-incumbency factor, (it is Mrs Sheila Dikshit’s hatrick victory) and the massive victory in Mizoram, a two third victory forcing the ruling MNF (Mizo National Front) biting the dust. It is not an apt time for complacency, Mrs Gandhi was aware of it, hence, sans much celebrations, the entire event passed of peacefully at the AICC Bhavan. According to my perception , Mrs Gandhi is conscious of those waiting for an “auspicious occasion” to upset the apple-cert in the last moment by ditching the party seeking greener pastures. “Power-Play” or “Pawar-Play” can be expected at any time, Mulayam and his deputy can turn the tables at an opportune moment and so many others in the party itself waiting in the wings, weighing the pros and cons, which way the wind blows and move accordingly. Late Mrs Indira Gandhi had such an experience in the past at the hands of the late Jagjivan Ram (incidentally his daughter is in the ManMohan Singh cabinet),H.N. Bahuguna, and one more VIP whose name I can’t recall now and formed CFD (Congress For Democracy).
BJP was weaving many dreams for the last one year, expecting to make a clean sweep of almost the four States of Rajasthan, Chattisgarh, Delhi and Madhya Pradesh but not that much expectation about Mizoram. They were infact euphoric even before the elections! That much they were confident of a massive victory. Their intention was to cash in on the terror problems in various States such as Jammu&Kashmir, Gujarat, Delhi, Mumbai, Varanasi in UP, Karnataka, AndhraPradesh, Assam,Rajasthan and even Kerala and the terror related deaths of hundreds, thus highlighting the failure of Government at the centre, the failure of intelligence agencies to sense the impending attacks, the Stock Market crash due to Global melt down, and the reluctance of centre to enact Pota-like draconian laws to contain terror and law and machinery.
But the two intelligent men in Madhya Pradesh and Chattisgarh, Shivraj Singh Chauhan and Ramon Singh respectively , didn’t harp much on the terror menace and they concentrated more on the immediate problems of the masses, took part in much of their activities, thus endearing them. People didn’t care much to ponder over the Mumbai carnage, and such kinds of law and order problems, because in the course of time, they have learnt to live with it. People always want to be concerned with their basic needs and Shivraj Singh Chauhan and Ramon Singh provided them with those needs thus ensuring their Party’s victory. Whether this line of thinking will prevail in the long run is another matter and for that we will have to wait for the final.
Like Shivraj Singh Chauhan and Ramon Singh, Mrs Sheila Dikshit in Delhi did a lot to develop the infrastructure (the transport facilities improved a lot with more than 20 flyovers), the preparations for 2010 Common Wealth Games are in full swing, and hence inspite of the intermittent terrorist attacks, finally captured her third victory.
Though Ms Mayawati, BSP Leader couldn’t make much impact on the power equations in the States, (she is said to be a king-maker) she saw to it that her voters margin had widened in four States making her Party base spreading gradually in other States, previously confined to U.P only, she is certainly to emerge a power to reckon with in the future. Her party could capture about 20 seats and seven seats in Madhya Pradesh itself.
Now come to the leftists. After the declaration of elections, I was stunned and surprised to see a small news item (some of us call it news in a nut-shell) on the top left side of “Hindu”—“Left Upbeat” with the photo of Comrade A.B.Bardhan, General Secretary of CPI. What for? I couldn’t make out. CPI couldn’t even bag a single seat in any of the four States, the CPI(M) could elect three MLAs in Rajasthan out of 34 seats they contested if I felt like laughing, forgive me Comrade. The next moment I turned the pages looking for a detailed statement by Comrade Bardhan and at last I found out. His statement was not that much an ‘upbeat item’ and it was nothing more than the prospects of the leftists in Kerala, West Bengal and Tripura. Unfortunately I can’t agree with his claim and there are reasons for it.
CPI(M) [ Communist Party Of India(Marxist) ] and other leftists due to the leftist wave prevailing in the State due to anti-incumbency factor related to the misgovernance of the then government under Oommen Chandy, and wide-spread mass-discontent, could capture almost 18 seats out of a total of 20 seats in 2004. This time the anti-incumbency factor is in favour of Indian National Congress and therefore expecting atelast 10 seats is most improbable.
Similarly in West Bengal due to the Nandigram and Singur issues and the related developments still simmering here and there, whether leftists can expect the status-quo or increase the tally is a big question mark. Any how let us hope for the best in West Bengal, unlike Kerala.
The infighting in the CPI(M) still raging on in Kerala, previously it was said to be ideological but the rivalry between the two factions have come out in to the open often crossing the barriers of ideology, I don’t think even Comrade Prakash Karat, Sitaram Yechury, and S.Ramachandran Pillai, can do much to placate the two factions at a crucial moment when the elections are round the corner. While being criticized, casting sarcastic smiles at the remarks of critics, won’t do much benefit to the party. Considering others to be ignorant of Marxist-Leninist thinking will be foolish since many of the critics are yester year activists and supporters of the Party, or leftists without any affiliations to any particular left party. Come what may, a complete overhaul is the need of the hour. A patch-up of sorts will create further problems in future particularly in a Communist Party such solutions are least expected.
Only Tripura is a sure bet, but it has only two seats to contribute.
A hung parliament is likely and therefore horse-traders will have a harvesting time. Such is our fate…Such is our lot…
Se
Friday, December 12, 2008
Horoscope
Abdullah Omar Sheikh,Mussafarabad, Pak occupied Kashmir:
(Date of Birth: 1947 August 14, Time of Birth: 00:00Hrs)
I am a Lashkar-E-Taiba militant. Our organization struggles for Jammu&Kashmir to be integrated with Pakistan. It is my long cherished dream. Will my dream fructify? Will I become Prime Minister? Who might be the cultural Minister? Will the law and order situation be satisfactory? Will my future turn bright?
Answer: Your dream will turn infructuous. Any how there is chance of you becoming the Home Minister. The cultural Minister might be Osama Bin Laden. Your future will be bleak. Any how you might shine in the art of killing. So, beware.
Abdullah Omar Sheikh,Mussafarabad, Pak occupied Kashmir:
(Date of Birth: 1947 August 14, Time of Birth: 00:00Hrs)
I am a Lashkar-E-Taiba militant. Our organization struggles for Jammu&Kashmir to be integrated with Pakistan. It is my long cherished dream. Will my dream fructify? Will I become Prime Minister? Who might be the cultural Minister? Will the law and order situation be satisfactory? Will my future turn bright?
Answer: Your dream will turn infructuous. Any how there is chance of you becoming the Home Minister. The cultural Minister might be Osama Bin Laden. Your future will be bleak. Any how you might shine in the art of killing. So, beware.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
GURUDAKSHINA
“You have accepted me as your Guru ?”
“Certainly guruji”
“Will you kneel down before me and pay obeisance with all humility?
Then give me your thumb as my gurudaksina.”
“Sorry my dear guruji. My name is not Eklavya and you are not Dronacharya. No thanks.”
HONESTY
“Up till now have you committed anything wrong in your life?”
“So many guruji, so many, knowingly and unknowingly”- I confessed to him.
“Have not you repented for the sins committed?”-guru inquired with curiosity in his eyes.
“Repented a lot Guruji, repented a lot”
“Will you commit sins in future?”
“I can’t tell it now Guruji. After all I am only a human being. To err is human, Is n’t so? My entire life is a long history of rights and wrongs. Promising to abstain from sins is, in fact, self-deception. After all my beloved Guruji, who is perfect in this imperfect World?”
“Honesty is the best policy, my kid. You are my model disciple. I am proud of you.”
ABSOLUTE TRUTH
“Forgive me, guruji.I am a bit late.”
“Never mind my disciple. You are forgiven.”
“Oh my God from where you got this skeleton? A shiver ran down my spine. I am so afraid.”
“What for my guruji? After peeling our skin and removing our flesh from our bodies we are all skeletons. Mere skeletons. Similar to this skeleton I hold in my hand? Is n’t this the truth the Absolute Truth?”
(Guruji gets up from his seat)
“From today onwards you are my guruji and I am your disciple.”
ENEMY
“Have you any enemies?”
“Yes”
“How many?”
“Only one.”
“Who is that fellow?”
“YOURSELF”
(Dialogue goes on before the mirror)
“You have accepted me as your Guru ?”
“Certainly guruji”
“Will you kneel down before me and pay obeisance with all humility?
Then give me your thumb as my gurudaksina.”
“Sorry my dear guruji. My name is not Eklavya and you are not Dronacharya. No thanks.”
HONESTY
“Up till now have you committed anything wrong in your life?”
“So many guruji, so many, knowingly and unknowingly”- I confessed to him.
“Have not you repented for the sins committed?”-guru inquired with curiosity in his eyes.
“Repented a lot Guruji, repented a lot”
“Will you commit sins in future?”
“I can’t tell it now Guruji. After all I am only a human being. To err is human, Is n’t so? My entire life is a long history of rights and wrongs. Promising to abstain from sins is, in fact, self-deception. After all my beloved Guruji, who is perfect in this imperfect World?”
“Honesty is the best policy, my kid. You are my model disciple. I am proud of you.”
ABSOLUTE TRUTH
“Forgive me, guruji.I am a bit late.”
“Never mind my disciple. You are forgiven.”
“Oh my God from where you got this skeleton? A shiver ran down my spine. I am so afraid.”
“What for my guruji? After peeling our skin and removing our flesh from our bodies we are all skeletons. Mere skeletons. Similar to this skeleton I hold in my hand? Is n’t this the truth the Absolute Truth?”
(Guruji gets up from his seat)
“From today onwards you are my guruji and I am your disciple.”
ENEMY
“Have you any enemies?”
“Yes”
“How many?”
“Only one.”
“Who is that fellow?”
“YOURSELF”
(Dialogue goes on before the mirror)
Monday, December 8, 2008
An Agonizing Memory with a Spark of Hope in Mind
SHORT STORY
Yogesh Bhaiyya is my friend. More than a friend, he is a father-figure to me. Our relationship began since 1990. As the days progressed, we became more intimate and that intimacy is still rock-like strong.
Now he is aged sixty. Lean, tall and brownish, always clad in Kurta and Pyjama, Yogesh Bhaiyya remained pleasant with a smiling face till two weeks ago.
Yogesh Bhaiyya used to wake me up from my deep slumber at sharp 6AM in the morning. From his little thatched hut like tea-shop, he daily brought my bed-time coffee to my room and used to knock at the door, two to three times. I would wake up from my sleep and rubbing my eyes rush to the door, unlock it and open it.
“Ram, Ram, Surendar Bhai”- while handing over the coffee cup, he would wish me with the everlasting smile.
“Ram, Ram, Yogesh Bhaiyya”- I would respond.
After bidding farewell for the time being he would rush to his little tea-shop where his regular customers were starting to visit to have their daily cups of bed-coffee.
Yogesh Bhaiyya is known to almost everybody in the locality, and he had contact with each and everyone who used to visit his shop, being blessed with a photographic memory, he called them by their names with his usual “Ram Ram”.
As the Sun rises in the east, locality begins to bath in sun-light, and also with streets begin to jump to life with vehicle speeding along, Yogesh Bhaiyya’s customers also begin to disperse to their abodes for the day and would start preparations to rush to their working places in the suburbs, by the local trains along with other commuters.
Yogesh Bhaiyya reached his little shop in the wee hours, with an aluminium vessel filled with milk from faraway Goregaon. A hectic day begins in his life before the darkness disappears giving way for the Sun rise.
Yogesh Bhaiyya is from U.P and his residence is in Sultanpur. He has an illiterate wife, a daily labourer and four children- two boys and two girls, all studying in the nearby schools. Once in a year, Yogesh Bhaiyya goes to his native place and after two or three weeks of sojourn in his birthplace, after meeting relatives and friends, exchanging pleasantries with them, travelling through the maize, wheat and paddy fields enjoying the beauty of the landscape, he would make his return trip to Mumbai city, which till recently was his abode for the past fifteen to twenty years. While travelling back to the city and also after reaching the city, Yogesh Bhaiyya suffered from severe home-sickness, the tearful eyes of his wife and children haunted him for weeks and also his beloved friends and relatives and the landscape indelibly imprinted in the inner chamber of his mind. Even while going through such agonies, he didn’t forget to keep his beaming smile intact hiding all his sorrows inside.
While talking about U.P he always went talkative and with one thousand tongues, in rhetorical flourishes, spoke about the world-wonder Taj Mahal-a monument of eternal love sculpted in marble, innumerable tourists from afar, the tonga-wallahs, love-birds walking with hand in hand, pilgrimage centres like Mathura-Sreekrishna Janmabhumi, and long queues of pilgrims to have a darshan of Krishna and Radha, amidst drum beats and loud chanting of devotional songs, Varanasi- the spiritual centre with devotees praying Kasi Viswanatha and the sparkling river Ganga where people take Holy dip praying to the Gods from the bottom of their hearts for the eternal salvation of their ancestors , KumbhaMela at Allahabad with lakhs and lakhs of devotees and Sanyasins, even large number of naked-sanyasins with long beards in meditation, some taking bath in the holy river to erase the sins of yesteryears that is their belief, in short, a spiritual ambience.
Yogesh Bhaiyya’s days of happiness and smile were slowly vanishing from his face. A look of panic and worry began to make appearance on his face. His melancholic look was somewhat a tormenting experience to me also, and I knew the reason behind his sudden change on his facial expressions.
The ‘Son’s of the Soil Policy’ of yesteryears, which lay dormant for years, was again rearing its ugly face in the city. This time their ire was directed against those hailing from U.P and Bihar. The ‘Xenophobics’ were nursing a feeling that their job opportunities and resources were being grabbed by men from U.P and Bihar and they were planning to force them flee from Mumbai to their native lands by harassing the men, women and their children who had come to the city years ago for a living through abusive language and deeds. The ‘Sons of Soil Policy’ believers joined hands and began to attack the taxi-wallahs from U.P and Bihar, burnt their vehicles, demanded them to write the names of their shops on the boards displayed in front in Marathi only, unleashing murderous assaults on flimsy grounds, thus creating a fear-psychosis among the U.P wallahs and Bihari people.
Tension mounted day by day, many among the U.P wallahs and Biharis who had made the city their permanent abode feared for their life with tears in their eyes, started to return to their native lands with blank looks to the uncertain future. That which they could save would not be available anymore and those thoughts were nagging and unbearable.
One day a large number of educated unemployed youth from Bihar landed in the city commuting long distances to appear for a test for the Railway Recruitment Board Exam. An educated young man’s dream is a job to earn a living and unfortunately they were brutally assaulted by the ‘Sons of the Soil’ and prevented them from appearing for the exam. With tears in their eyes, and bleeding wounds, they went back disillusioned and disappointed.
We were all aware of the developments through newspapers, radios, televisions and from those known to us in the city.
Yogesh Bhaiyya was the most worried among the lot and with panic in his face, he always looked around apprehending eruption of violence at any time directed against him also.
“Surender Bhai, I am a very worried man today. I am at a loss to know to find a way out. If I am exiled from this city, what will be my future? My wife and children are eagerly waiting for the monthly money order from me to have their sustenance.” On hearing his worries anger welled up within me, but I am also helpless like him, an entity from another land. Even then, I would pat him on the back and console him. Meaningless, empty, hollow words, I knew. What else a common man can do? Life seemed to be quite absurd in the city.
Unexpectedly one morning I woke up from my sleep on hearing angry shouts, choice epithets and also the sounds of blows and beating with sticks, I jumped up from my bed and rushed to the door, unlocked and opened it in a hurry. To my horror, I could see an unruly mob with long sticks and cycle chains in their hands in front of the little tea-shop of Yogesh Bhaiyya, the shop grounded to the floor and in a mess the mob encircling Yogesh Bhaiyya, beating him, thundering blows on him, kicking him and trampling him like pachyderms with all their anger, shouting ‘Kutha jao Na there Muluk ko, Jaldi chalo Magar Marenge hum’ (‘Run away from here to your native land, you dirty dog.’)
I couldn’t bear the sight. I closed my eyes with my palms for a while, tears trickling down my cheeks, the man whom I saw like a father-figure. I ran to the spot just to embrace him, and console him and if possible rescue him from the hoodlums. Yogesh Bhaiyya was writhing in pain, bleeding from top to bottom, the city itself seemed to be bleeding. I ran towards him, hugged him and wept like a child. Contrary to my expectations, Yogesh Bhaiyya was calm and with his smiling face consoled me in an endearing tone.
“Jane Do Beta, Jane Do, Sindagi Aisa he. Idhar se U.P Ko vapas jane Ke badh Bhi, Hum Milenge.” (“Never mind son, life is like that, even if I am leaving the city back to my native place, certainly we will meet again.”)- on hearing him calling me ‘Beta’ (son) , I was overwhelmed with joy and sorrow and was recalling my late father for a while. Again I felt like weeping to my heart’s content.
Now, Yogesh Bhaiyya is away from me. Everyday I expect some message from him. So far, no reply….I know, one day, he will…
Yogesh Bhaiyya is my friend. More than a friend, he is a father-figure to me. Our relationship began since 1990. As the days progressed, we became more intimate and that intimacy is still rock-like strong.
Now he is aged sixty. Lean, tall and brownish, always clad in Kurta and Pyjama, Yogesh Bhaiyya remained pleasant with a smiling face till two weeks ago.
Yogesh Bhaiyya used to wake me up from my deep slumber at sharp 6AM in the morning. From his little thatched hut like tea-shop, he daily brought my bed-time coffee to my room and used to knock at the door, two to three times. I would wake up from my sleep and rubbing my eyes rush to the door, unlock it and open it.
“Ram, Ram, Surendar Bhai”- while handing over the coffee cup, he would wish me with the everlasting smile.
“Ram, Ram, Yogesh Bhaiyya”- I would respond.
After bidding farewell for the time being he would rush to his little tea-shop where his regular customers were starting to visit to have their daily cups of bed-coffee.
Yogesh Bhaiyya is known to almost everybody in the locality, and he had contact with each and everyone who used to visit his shop, being blessed with a photographic memory, he called them by their names with his usual “Ram Ram”.
As the Sun rises in the east, locality begins to bath in sun-light, and also with streets begin to jump to life with vehicle speeding along, Yogesh Bhaiyya’s customers also begin to disperse to their abodes for the day and would start preparations to rush to their working places in the suburbs, by the local trains along with other commuters.
Yogesh Bhaiyya reached his little shop in the wee hours, with an aluminium vessel filled with milk from faraway Goregaon. A hectic day begins in his life before the darkness disappears giving way for the Sun rise.
Yogesh Bhaiyya is from U.P and his residence is in Sultanpur. He has an illiterate wife, a daily labourer and four children- two boys and two girls, all studying in the nearby schools. Once in a year, Yogesh Bhaiyya goes to his native place and after two or three weeks of sojourn in his birthplace, after meeting relatives and friends, exchanging pleasantries with them, travelling through the maize, wheat and paddy fields enjoying the beauty of the landscape, he would make his return trip to Mumbai city, which till recently was his abode for the past fifteen to twenty years. While travelling back to the city and also after reaching the city, Yogesh Bhaiyya suffered from severe home-sickness, the tearful eyes of his wife and children haunted him for weeks and also his beloved friends and relatives and the landscape indelibly imprinted in the inner chamber of his mind. Even while going through such agonies, he didn’t forget to keep his beaming smile intact hiding all his sorrows inside.
While talking about U.P he always went talkative and with one thousand tongues, in rhetorical flourishes, spoke about the world-wonder Taj Mahal-a monument of eternal love sculpted in marble, innumerable tourists from afar, the tonga-wallahs, love-birds walking with hand in hand, pilgrimage centres like Mathura-Sreekrishna Janmabhumi, and long queues of pilgrims to have a darshan of Krishna and Radha, amidst drum beats and loud chanting of devotional songs, Varanasi- the spiritual centre with devotees praying Kasi Viswanatha and the sparkling river Ganga where people take Holy dip praying to the Gods from the bottom of their hearts for the eternal salvation of their ancestors , KumbhaMela at Allahabad with lakhs and lakhs of devotees and Sanyasins, even large number of naked-sanyasins with long beards in meditation, some taking bath in the holy river to erase the sins of yesteryears that is their belief, in short, a spiritual ambience.
Yogesh Bhaiyya’s days of happiness and smile were slowly vanishing from his face. A look of panic and worry began to make appearance on his face. His melancholic look was somewhat a tormenting experience to me also, and I knew the reason behind his sudden change on his facial expressions.
The ‘Son’s of the Soil Policy’ of yesteryears, which lay dormant for years, was again rearing its ugly face in the city. This time their ire was directed against those hailing from U.P and Bihar. The ‘Xenophobics’ were nursing a feeling that their job opportunities and resources were being grabbed by men from U.P and Bihar and they were planning to force them flee from Mumbai to their native lands by harassing the men, women and their children who had come to the city years ago for a living through abusive language and deeds. The ‘Sons of Soil Policy’ believers joined hands and began to attack the taxi-wallahs from U.P and Bihar, burnt their vehicles, demanded them to write the names of their shops on the boards displayed in front in Marathi only, unleashing murderous assaults on flimsy grounds, thus creating a fear-psychosis among the U.P wallahs and Bihari people.
Tension mounted day by day, many among the U.P wallahs and Biharis who had made the city their permanent abode feared for their life with tears in their eyes, started to return to their native lands with blank looks to the uncertain future. That which they could save would not be available anymore and those thoughts were nagging and unbearable.
One day a large number of educated unemployed youth from Bihar landed in the city commuting long distances to appear for a test for the Railway Recruitment Board Exam. An educated young man’s dream is a job to earn a living and unfortunately they were brutally assaulted by the ‘Sons of the Soil’ and prevented them from appearing for the exam. With tears in their eyes, and bleeding wounds, they went back disillusioned and disappointed.
We were all aware of the developments through newspapers, radios, televisions and from those known to us in the city.
Yogesh Bhaiyya was the most worried among the lot and with panic in his face, he always looked around apprehending eruption of violence at any time directed against him also.
“Surender Bhai, I am a very worried man today. I am at a loss to know to find a way out. If I am exiled from this city, what will be my future? My wife and children are eagerly waiting for the monthly money order from me to have their sustenance.” On hearing his worries anger welled up within me, but I am also helpless like him, an entity from another land. Even then, I would pat him on the back and console him. Meaningless, empty, hollow words, I knew. What else a common man can do? Life seemed to be quite absurd in the city.
Unexpectedly one morning I woke up from my sleep on hearing angry shouts, choice epithets and also the sounds of blows and beating with sticks, I jumped up from my bed and rushed to the door, unlocked and opened it in a hurry. To my horror, I could see an unruly mob with long sticks and cycle chains in their hands in front of the little tea-shop of Yogesh Bhaiyya, the shop grounded to the floor and in a mess the mob encircling Yogesh Bhaiyya, beating him, thundering blows on him, kicking him and trampling him like pachyderms with all their anger, shouting ‘Kutha jao Na there Muluk ko, Jaldi chalo Magar Marenge hum’ (‘Run away from here to your native land, you dirty dog.’)
I couldn’t bear the sight. I closed my eyes with my palms for a while, tears trickling down my cheeks, the man whom I saw like a father-figure. I ran to the spot just to embrace him, and console him and if possible rescue him from the hoodlums. Yogesh Bhaiyya was writhing in pain, bleeding from top to bottom, the city itself seemed to be bleeding. I ran towards him, hugged him and wept like a child. Contrary to my expectations, Yogesh Bhaiyya was calm and with his smiling face consoled me in an endearing tone.
“Jane Do Beta, Jane Do, Sindagi Aisa he. Idhar se U.P Ko vapas jane Ke badh Bhi, Hum Milenge.” (“Never mind son, life is like that, even if I am leaving the city back to my native place, certainly we will meet again.”)- on hearing him calling me ‘Beta’ (son) , I was overwhelmed with joy and sorrow and was recalling my late father for a while. Again I felt like weeping to my heart’s content.
Now, Yogesh Bhaiyya is away from me. Everyday I expect some message from him. So far, no reply….I know, one day, he will…
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Bhasmasura Alias Frankenstein Monster
You must have heard about Bhasmasura. Otherwise you should. The Asura was an ardent devotee of Lord Shiva and to appease and also to seek blessings from the God, Bhasmasura held a rigorous ‘Thapas’ (Penance), lasting a prolonged period. Delighted with his rigorous ‘Thapas’ God Shiva appeared before the Asura in all glory and halo, blessed the Asura and told his faithful devotee. “I am very much delighted and am proud of you. I am showering all the blessings on you. You can seek any boon from me and it will be available to you. I am that much satisfied with you, my beloved devotee”.
Asura felt much honoured and with all humility and devotion to the God he worshipped for years appealed to Shiva. “Thank God. I need only one boon from you. May your highness bless me with it”- Asura knelt before the God.
“You may ask me. Your wish would be materialized”.- God Shiva promised him.
“I need a boon from you, your Excellency. On anyone I touch with my finger on his or her fore-head,should in an instant become Bhasma(ashes). Without pondering over the covert intention of the Asura, God Shiva blessed the Asura with the boon he sought from him. “May your wish be materialized”- showering all blessings on the Asura, God Shiva wanted to bid farewell from his worshipper.
“My beloved God, give me a chance to test the boon, first on your highness”.
God Shiva was shocked. The treachery unveiled, but it was too late. The boon once given should not be withdrawn, and fearing the worst, the God ran away to escape from the Asura and the Asura followed him with all the might that he had already obtained from the God after a long period of rigorous penance.
Shiva’s running spree gained momentum and at last he decided to approach God Vishnu and kept him abreast of all that happened. Shiva had known that the only escape route from the Asura was through God Vishnu. In the Puranas it was God Vishnu who rescued many a God from the Asuras, who keeping all the treachery in mind, worshipped Gods and caught in their traps.
“Please help me to find a way out of this dilemma. Only you can help me wriggle out of this predicament.” – God Shiva sought solace from his friend.
God Vishnu meditated for a while and came out from his meditation with a solution.
With his divine powers, within seconds the God turned into an ‘apsaras’- a charming lady with the power to distract the attention of the Asura and passed by him. Asura saw her and at first sight itself Asura got enchanted with the pretty, fatally charming lady and implored her to accept him as his life partner.
The lady agreed but on one condition.
“Would you do whatever I might seek from you?”
The Asura instantly agreed and promised her. That much he was attracted and enchanted by her.
“Then you may do one thing. Before my own eyes you may kindly touch your finger on your forehead. The next moment I shall accept you.”
The Asura was relieved and he thought it a simple thing. Without any hesitation, and without thinking too much in his eager to possess the enchantress he touched his forehead with his own finger. Within seconds the Asura became a handful of Bhasma(ashes).
Again with his divine power, the charming enchantress turned into God Vishnu and thus saved his friend God Shiva from the Asura’s trap.
This puranic story of Bhasmasura has some contemporary dimensions.
The whole world is caught in a web of wicked forces and all across the world are lamenting over the fate of an accursed world. Terrorists, like the proverbial Asuras are on the prowl, leaders across the Globe are busy engaged in talks to eradicate this menace from the face of the Globe as early as possible. Otherwise, the fate of this beautiful world will be in shambles, reminding us of the story of Bhasmasura.
On 26 November, a bunch of terrorists with deadly weapons landed on the shores of India, a journey commenced from Karachi of Pakistan, now the epicentre of terrorism, first by a ship and then by a speed-boat across the Arabian Sea with the sole intention of striking at the financial capital of our country wreaking as much damage as possible. Those Jihadists, all except one were supposed to have been killed by our valiant commandos, some must have escaped the net, not sure. It was a meticulously planned execution of Lashkar-E-Taiba of the wretched leader Hafiz Ali Sayed who is presently well-entrenched in his country. Almost sixty hours of incessant battle, two days, three nights, and one morning, the wicked Jihadists of Lashkar-E-Taiba, who soon after reaching the city escaping the dragnet spread by the security agencies(whether there was such a dragnet is another puzzle, the news that the information was already passed on to the Government about the terrorist attack from sea is anybody's guess) formed groups of threes and fours and spread along the city, got entrenched in famous landmarks of the city like, Taj-Intercontinental, Hotel Oberoi-Trident, Cama Hospital, Nariman House, Leopold restaurant, held some people hostage, shot about 55 innocents at the Chatrapathi Shivaji Terminus itself, gunshots, grenade explosions with deafening sounds and cries for help by some victims were heard, but the Jihadists didn’t relent and a carnage of sorts took place, taking the death toll to round about 200 and about 600 wounded and taken to hospitals.
I am not prolonging with an eyewitness account of all that happened on that faithful day( I had already described the entire episode in an earlier blog dated 30 November 2008 ). But I would like to dissect a bygone period and also point out the genesis of the terrorist drama now being enacted across the world.
Among the countries, the first to come out condemning the all sad happenings is surprisingly and amusingly USA, the one nation solely responsible for sowing the seeds of terrorism by playing World Police. That country’s attempt and eagerness for one up-man ship among the World nations was the main factor for all the subsequent happenings, still going on in our world.
Take for example, the history of Afghan imbroglio.
That nation was in the grip of the erstwhile Soviet Union for a while and as already pointed out, in order to contain the main competitor of USA of that period, encouraged the Taliban, Osama-Bin-Laden and his cohorts, provided them with all logistics , all the other help those elements wanted to rescue Afghanistan from the clutches of erstwhile Soviet Union. Now the number one and most wanted enemy in the World is Osama-Bin-Laden and Ayman-Al-Sawahiri, his deputy once the faithful friends and conscience keepers of USA. Look at the ways the history and relationships play in the infinite expanse of time! Quite a paradox!
Till 9/11, USA had an inherent feeling of superiority (even now, when the nation is undergoing a recession and the economy in shambles) and complacency that they were impervious to terrorist attacks and would continue to be so eternally, so they believed. That complacency was broken and with realization that USA was also prone to the machinations of terrorists across the world, Mr. George Walker Bush jumped to the front hiding his fear and uncertainty, displaying a face of courage vowed to every nation that terrorism would be nipped in the bud, and the dreaded Al- Quaida and its vicious leaders would be brought to justice. Bush with his foolish determination to hunt down the Al- Quaida leaders who were said to be the perpetrators, who was said to be the perpetrators of 9/11 World Trade Centre attack, 2001 embarked on his misadventure, went for the jugular of terrorist movement and its leaders across the world. His first goal was to attack Afghanistan and perpetrate as much destruction as possible, hunt down Osama-Bin-Laden and his cohorts supposed to be hiding in the North-West Frontier of Pakistan, believed to be well-entrenched in their bunkers, nabbing them ‘dead or alive’. The powerful president could only play havoc with the nation by massacaring innocents, men, women and children who were not all involved in Jihadist movement and their only wish was to go on with their lives safely and peacefully. The war only helped to shatter the dreams, hopes and aspirations of those innocent people and to escape from incessant bombings and mayhem they fled to neighbouring countries and settled down as refugees-poverty, diseases, malnutrition and hunger killing them in thousands.
But, the men, they (USA) wanted and to be brought to justice still remain elusive even after years of turmoil-but the lessons Mr.Bush still refuse to learn in the fag end of his presidency. The next to enthrone, Mr. Barack Obama is also determined to pursue Osama-Bin-Laden to the end. Obama - peace loving, cool and diplomatic, thus we all say, is keeping the age-old feeling of superiority of the Americans in the comity of nations. Let the time prove it…
Once Pakistan was the blue-eyed boy of USA, George Bush loved that nation and provided that country with all kinds of aid, weapons, food and billions of Dollars as loan. Some of them as grants. Deep down in his heart, his intention was to contain India at any cost, as he had apprehended the ‘phenomenal growth and development’ of India( my good gracious!). Retd General Pervez Musharaff deliberately played into the hands of Bush always ensured to keep the World leader in good humour to extract the maximum from USA. While the General was encouraging and providing all logistics to the Jihadists to destroy the peace in Jammu and Kashmir, whom he called freedom fighters' self-proclaimed champion of democracy Mr.Bush and his GoP kept mum thus giving silent approval to all the heinous activities- the Jihadist elements of Pakistan perpetrated massive destruction in Jammu and Kashmir, killing about one lakh people including our jawans till now.
The same Bush sent his confident the Secretary Of State, Condoleeza Rice to India first on hearing the news of Pakistani Jihadist elements played with fire in our nation, condemning the incident in no uncertain terms. Ms.Rice went to Pakistan soon after the visit to India, met President Asif Ali Sardari and demanded him to initiate tough and stern action against the Jihadist elements in the country as USA was in possession of evidence pointing out to involvement of Pakistani security establishment in the Mumbai carnage. Remember, now India and USA are on good terms particularly after the Civil-Nuclear Deal ‘consummation’ and USA is not that much in good terms with Pakistan because of frequent skirmishes along the North-West Frontier Province and occasional trespassing of boundaries in spite of repeated warnings by Pakistan.
On the pretext of – “Wiping out” the Weapons of Mass Destruction (WMD) from the land of Iraq- Bush sent lakhs of troops into Iraq and engaged in fierce battle, which started from the year 2003, thus destroying the last remnants of Mesopotamian Civilization, revered and respected by all around the world, killing crores of people including infants, forcing a lot of people fleeing from the country seeking safe havens, Saddam Hussein hanged after a mock trial and installing a puppet Government under Noori-Al-Maliki, an American stooge. Actually it was not the issue of WMD that mattered as Hans Blix, UN Representative after conducting extensive inspection found no such weapons and reported to the UN. United Nations has no value before the eyes of USA and hence ignored report and embarked on a war mission. USA had actually business interests in the Oil-rich nation and to extract the maximum for their use found a pretext in the form of elimination of Weapons of Mass Destruction (WMD).
Asura felt much honoured and with all humility and devotion to the God he worshipped for years appealed to Shiva. “Thank God. I need only one boon from you. May your highness bless me with it”- Asura knelt before the God.
“You may ask me. Your wish would be materialized”.- God Shiva promised him.
“I need a boon from you, your Excellency. On anyone I touch with my finger on his or her fore-head,should in an instant become Bhasma(ashes). Without pondering over the covert intention of the Asura, God Shiva blessed the Asura with the boon he sought from him. “May your wish be materialized”- showering all blessings on the Asura, God Shiva wanted to bid farewell from his worshipper.
“My beloved God, give me a chance to test the boon, first on your highness”.
God Shiva was shocked. The treachery unveiled, but it was too late. The boon once given should not be withdrawn, and fearing the worst, the God ran away to escape from the Asura and the Asura followed him with all the might that he had already obtained from the God after a long period of rigorous penance.
Shiva’s running spree gained momentum and at last he decided to approach God Vishnu and kept him abreast of all that happened. Shiva had known that the only escape route from the Asura was through God Vishnu. In the Puranas it was God Vishnu who rescued many a God from the Asuras, who keeping all the treachery in mind, worshipped Gods and caught in their traps.
“Please help me to find a way out of this dilemma. Only you can help me wriggle out of this predicament.” – God Shiva sought solace from his friend.
God Vishnu meditated for a while and came out from his meditation with a solution.
With his divine powers, within seconds the God turned into an ‘apsaras’- a charming lady with the power to distract the attention of the Asura and passed by him. Asura saw her and at first sight itself Asura got enchanted with the pretty, fatally charming lady and implored her to accept him as his life partner.
The lady agreed but on one condition.
“Would you do whatever I might seek from you?”
The Asura instantly agreed and promised her. That much he was attracted and enchanted by her.
“Then you may do one thing. Before my own eyes you may kindly touch your finger on your forehead. The next moment I shall accept you.”
The Asura was relieved and he thought it a simple thing. Without any hesitation, and without thinking too much in his eager to possess the enchantress he touched his forehead with his own finger. Within seconds the Asura became a handful of Bhasma(ashes).
Again with his divine power, the charming enchantress turned into God Vishnu and thus saved his friend God Shiva from the Asura’s trap.
This puranic story of Bhasmasura has some contemporary dimensions.
The whole world is caught in a web of wicked forces and all across the world are lamenting over the fate of an accursed world. Terrorists, like the proverbial Asuras are on the prowl, leaders across the Globe are busy engaged in talks to eradicate this menace from the face of the Globe as early as possible. Otherwise, the fate of this beautiful world will be in shambles, reminding us of the story of Bhasmasura.
On 26 November, a bunch of terrorists with deadly weapons landed on the shores of India, a journey commenced from Karachi of Pakistan, now the epicentre of terrorism, first by a ship and then by a speed-boat across the Arabian Sea with the sole intention of striking at the financial capital of our country wreaking as much damage as possible. Those Jihadists, all except one were supposed to have been killed by our valiant commandos, some must have escaped the net, not sure. It was a meticulously planned execution of Lashkar-E-Taiba of the wretched leader Hafiz Ali Sayed who is presently well-entrenched in his country. Almost sixty hours of incessant battle, two days, three nights, and one morning, the wicked Jihadists of Lashkar-E-Taiba, who soon after reaching the city escaping the dragnet spread by the security agencies(whether there was such a dragnet is another puzzle, the news that the information was already passed on to the Government about the terrorist attack from sea is anybody's guess) formed groups of threes and fours and spread along the city, got entrenched in famous landmarks of the city like, Taj-Intercontinental, Hotel Oberoi-Trident, Cama Hospital, Nariman House, Leopold restaurant, held some people hostage, shot about 55 innocents at the Chatrapathi Shivaji Terminus itself, gunshots, grenade explosions with deafening sounds and cries for help by some victims were heard, but the Jihadists didn’t relent and a carnage of sorts took place, taking the death toll to round about 200 and about 600 wounded and taken to hospitals.
I am not prolonging with an eyewitness account of all that happened on that faithful day( I had already described the entire episode in an earlier blog dated 30 November 2008 ). But I would like to dissect a bygone period and also point out the genesis of the terrorist drama now being enacted across the world.
Among the countries, the first to come out condemning the all sad happenings is surprisingly and amusingly USA, the one nation solely responsible for sowing the seeds of terrorism by playing World Police. That country’s attempt and eagerness for one up-man ship among the World nations was the main factor for all the subsequent happenings, still going on in our world.
Take for example, the history of Afghan imbroglio.
That nation was in the grip of the erstwhile Soviet Union for a while and as already pointed out, in order to contain the main competitor of USA of that period, encouraged the Taliban, Osama-Bin-Laden and his cohorts, provided them with all logistics , all the other help those elements wanted to rescue Afghanistan from the clutches of erstwhile Soviet Union. Now the number one and most wanted enemy in the World is Osama-Bin-Laden and Ayman-Al-Sawahiri, his deputy once the faithful friends and conscience keepers of USA. Look at the ways the history and relationships play in the infinite expanse of time! Quite a paradox!
Till 9/11, USA had an inherent feeling of superiority (even now, when the nation is undergoing a recession and the economy in shambles) and complacency that they were impervious to terrorist attacks and would continue to be so eternally, so they believed. That complacency was broken and with realization that USA was also prone to the machinations of terrorists across the world, Mr. George Walker Bush jumped to the front hiding his fear and uncertainty, displaying a face of courage vowed to every nation that terrorism would be nipped in the bud, and the dreaded Al- Quaida and its vicious leaders would be brought to justice. Bush with his foolish determination to hunt down the Al- Quaida leaders who were said to be the perpetrators, who was said to be the perpetrators of 9/11 World Trade Centre attack, 2001 embarked on his misadventure, went for the jugular of terrorist movement and its leaders across the world. His first goal was to attack Afghanistan and perpetrate as much destruction as possible, hunt down Osama-Bin-Laden and his cohorts supposed to be hiding in the North-West Frontier of Pakistan, believed to be well-entrenched in their bunkers, nabbing them ‘dead or alive’. The powerful president could only play havoc with the nation by massacaring innocents, men, women and children who were not all involved in Jihadist movement and their only wish was to go on with their lives safely and peacefully. The war only helped to shatter the dreams, hopes and aspirations of those innocent people and to escape from incessant bombings and mayhem they fled to neighbouring countries and settled down as refugees-poverty, diseases, malnutrition and hunger killing them in thousands.
But, the men, they (USA) wanted and to be brought to justice still remain elusive even after years of turmoil-but the lessons Mr.Bush still refuse to learn in the fag end of his presidency. The next to enthrone, Mr. Barack Obama is also determined to pursue Osama-Bin-Laden to the end. Obama - peace loving, cool and diplomatic, thus we all say, is keeping the age-old feeling of superiority of the Americans in the comity of nations. Let the time prove it…
Once Pakistan was the blue-eyed boy of USA, George Bush loved that nation and provided that country with all kinds of aid, weapons, food and billions of Dollars as loan. Some of them as grants. Deep down in his heart, his intention was to contain India at any cost, as he had apprehended the ‘phenomenal growth and development’ of India( my good gracious!). Retd General Pervez Musharaff deliberately played into the hands of Bush always ensured to keep the World leader in good humour to extract the maximum from USA. While the General was encouraging and providing all logistics to the Jihadists to destroy the peace in Jammu and Kashmir, whom he called freedom fighters' self-proclaimed champion of democracy Mr.Bush and his GoP kept mum thus giving silent approval to all the heinous activities- the Jihadist elements of Pakistan perpetrated massive destruction in Jammu and Kashmir, killing about one lakh people including our jawans till now.
The same Bush sent his confident the Secretary Of State, Condoleeza Rice to India first on hearing the news of Pakistani Jihadist elements played with fire in our nation, condemning the incident in no uncertain terms. Ms.Rice went to Pakistan soon after the visit to India, met President Asif Ali Sardari and demanded him to initiate tough and stern action against the Jihadist elements in the country as USA was in possession of evidence pointing out to involvement of Pakistani security establishment in the Mumbai carnage. Remember, now India and USA are on good terms particularly after the Civil-Nuclear Deal ‘consummation’ and USA is not that much in good terms with Pakistan because of frequent skirmishes along the North-West Frontier Province and occasional trespassing of boundaries in spite of repeated warnings by Pakistan.
On the pretext of – “Wiping out” the Weapons of Mass Destruction (WMD) from the land of Iraq- Bush sent lakhs of troops into Iraq and engaged in fierce battle, which started from the year 2003, thus destroying the last remnants of Mesopotamian Civilization, revered and respected by all around the world, killing crores of people including infants, forcing a lot of people fleeing from the country seeking safe havens, Saddam Hussein hanged after a mock trial and installing a puppet Government under Noori-Al-Maliki, an American stooge. Actually it was not the issue of WMD that mattered as Hans Blix, UN Representative after conducting extensive inspection found no such weapons and reported to the UN. United Nations has no value before the eyes of USA and hence ignored report and embarked on a war mission. USA had actually business interests in the Oil-rich nation and to extract the maximum for their use found a pretext in the form of elimination of Weapons of Mass Destruction (WMD).
It is worthwhile to note here that even the late Saddam Hussein was a close friend of USA in his mission to annihilate lakhs of Kurds and that closeness ended only when the Kuwait war broke out in 1991 under the regime of George Bush Senior.
Interestingly, the nation keeping the largest number of WMD is USA itself.
Similarly, the Palestine-Israeli issue, and USA always siding with Israel in its efforts to target Palestinians and killing them, has created wide-spread discontent among the Arab Nations and Jihadist elements, thus providing manure to the wide-spread growth of terrorism in various corners of the World.
Muslim community across the Globe deeply dischanted and angered with the USA and thus leading many among them to turn to Jihadism and massive destruction.
Even at this critical moment in contemporary scenario, it seems USA has still not learned much. The nation which once provided all logistical help to Jihadists are now seen engaged in wiping out Jihadism from the face of earth with humble requests from all across the World!
What a Tamasha!
Tail-Piece: I regret having compared God Shiva to George Bush and would like to mention here that Mr.Bush himself has turned out to be a Bhasmasura of the contemporary world. Where is God Shiva now is a billion dollar question.
Interestingly, the nation keeping the largest number of WMD is USA itself.
Similarly, the Palestine-Israeli issue, and USA always siding with Israel in its efforts to target Palestinians and killing them, has created wide-spread discontent among the Arab Nations and Jihadist elements, thus providing manure to the wide-spread growth of terrorism in various corners of the World.
Muslim community across the Globe deeply dischanted and angered with the USA and thus leading many among them to turn to Jihadism and massive destruction.
Even at this critical moment in contemporary scenario, it seems USA has still not learned much. The nation which once provided all logistical help to Jihadists are now seen engaged in wiping out Jihadism from the face of earth with humble requests from all across the World!
What a Tamasha!
Tail-Piece: I regret having compared God Shiva to George Bush and would like to mention here that Mr.Bush himself has turned out to be a Bhasmasura of the contemporary world. Where is God Shiva now is a billion dollar question.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Neglected Lot Of Mumbai City
Again on Mumbai. Even in the Golden times and now in the worst of times, Mumbai still remains an attraction,enigma and fascination. The other day I rang up a friend in the nearby city and talked about the recent brutal carnage in our dear old city.
“Even after a span of ten years the city still remains an attraction to me. I feel like the city still beckons me. In our times, city was somewhat calm and incident free and now unfortunately it is in turmoil. Law and Order in disarray, violent clashes and murders common in the Metropolis, terrorists roaming and roaring across the city like blood hounds massacring as many innocents as possible, deafening bomb-explosions and mind-boggling and chilling sights of mangled dead bodies and amidst all these the ruling politicians remain passive and also in deep slumber caring two hoots for the hardships of the Mumbaikars. Even in these uncertain times, the city still remains a fascination and attraction. Strange! What about your response?”- I was in a state of curiosity. My friend burst into laughter and it lasted for a few minutes and I felt embarrassed for a while. “My case is also like yours. Several times in a day, mind flies back to the bewitching city and I feel like going back to the dear old city and settle down there. Not only my case, it is the same with everybody who had been to the city in the past. It is such an enchantress. The same enchantress of the yester years. Gateway, Taj Intercontinental, the vast expanse of the ocean, Nariman Point, Marinedrive reminding me of a neck-lace during nights, Malabar Hill, Colaba in short every nook and corner of the city”- My friend uttered those words in a breathless tone.
She was settled at a posh locality in Colaba with her family. They used to take strolls in the city, often visited the Leopold restaurant frequented by foreign tourists daily, Gateway, Taj Intercontinental, parks and beaches whenever they got time. Nostalgia with its full vigour.
I often wonder, why this city still remains attractive and enchanting ever ready to embrace her old and new inhabitants even when writhing in pain due to the present day sorry incidents.
This is not to sing ‘Osana’ (eulogise) for the ever beloved city. This is actually intended to picture the darker side of the city life of which I was a witness and part for some years.
Fortunately or unfortunately, I had got chances of settling at various places in the suburbs. Labour Camp- part of Dharavi, Matunga Road, Parel, Borivalli and Ghatkoper- both east and west.
But most of the time, I was residing at a railway quarter, sublet by a Mangalorean, MahabhalaBhandare. Railway Quarters building No:84, Room No:18, I still remember it. Bhandare was living with his family of five, his wife Thamba, we Malayalees (Sala Madrasis in Marathi parlance) used to call her Amma, always clad in a dark blue sari, with a nose-stud adorned with a red stone, always talkative, daughter Geetha who was working in a private firm at Mahim, a slim, curly-haired pretty girl in her twenties dressed in maxi while at the quarters, she had also a nose-stud like her Amma, their three sons, Ganesh, Thara and Thama going on with their studies in colleges and school. We were three paying-guests, one Ravi, one Madrasi Brahmin, who didn’t mingle with anybody, always unfriendly, one Mr.Kutty, a short-statured youth, we used to call him Tinku and one Mr.Joseph, the senior most among us studying Hotel Management somewhere in the suburbs and My-self, working at the Foreign Exchange Department of a bank at Nariman point in South Mumbai. In one sense we were all existential outsiders, not much friendly with each other, each with his own problems and worries once in a while exchanged smiles. Formal introduction to each other was already over in one or two words.
I had a friend in the adjacent room and whenever we got time we used to walk down the streets discussing various matters both personal, official and city life, in short everything under the Sun.
There was no cooking facilities in our room and hence to have our daily food, both the breakfast and supper, we used to go to a Malayali mess on the outskirts of Matunga area daily in the morning and evening. Lunch was always from our nearby working places either from a hotel or from pav-bhaji wallas with their vehicles parked by the side of the road.
In the early morning after finishing our daily routine, my friend in the adjacent room and myself would step out of our rooms wearing shirt and tucking up our dhotis like typical Malayalees to the Malayalee mess affectionately known as “Sankunni Mess”. How that name got to the mess is still an unknown thing. Because there was nobody with the name Sankunni there.
We would take a few steps along the tarred road and then turn to the left, there were railway quarters buildings here and there both vertically and horizontally, passed through the route and would enter a gully untarred and pot-holed with innumerable slums lined along both sides of the way. In the mornings, it was a common sight to see women in queues with their vessels in front of water-taps to collect water for the day. Their husbands were a rare sight in the locality in the mornings, might have been in deep sleep after consuming illicit country-liquor in the evenings till their senses go out of control- a sort of inebriated condition.
While passing through the way, we used to watch the ladies and among them, one of them caught my attention, a moody, young woman in her thirty’s always engrossed in some thoughts. I used to see her husband, a lean man with untrimmed beard in an old torn dirty shirt and a lungi, always in an intoxicated condition. On holidays in the afternoons while passing through the gully, I could see him with his drunkard friends sitting in a circle playing poker game. Except in the morning, his wife was not seen at the premises. They had three children, all girls usually seen with their mother. In a slum, a mother, father and their three children, living in dire straits- I used to imagine their life with horror and compassion. Their only source of daily existence was the sale of illicit country-liquor to those visiting them.
One evening, I along with my friend reluctantly decided to visit their slum- a small dinghy room with asbestos roof and walls built with tin-sheets, the atmosphere permeated with the pungent smell of country-liquor. Alongside the walls there were three or four benches for those coming to have their drink to settle down, the three girl children could be seen sitting in a corner, playing some games, oblivious of the happenings around them, (innocence personified) the wife and husband pouring the colourless liquid with pungent odour into the glasses and supplying to the clients. Among the clients, I was shocked and embarrassed to notice a police man with his lathi in his lap taking liquor. A model custodian of law and order in the city of Mumbai. My God! The house-owner while supplying liquor to everybody there found time to have a gulp or two once in a while with warm smile displaying his smoke-stained teeth to each and everybody there. The wife even didn’t care to notice him the anger and hatred towards the man visible in her face who tied the ‘Mangalya Sutra’ around her neck once. She might have nursed wonderful dreams while accompanying him to the city after the marriage in the northern district of Kerala. Everybody in the world nurses dreams in their life and weave a lot of attractive pictures inside the inner chambers of their minds. Dreams, we must have, whether they will fructify or not is another matter.
Days went by. Months went by. One day while walking through the gully, we came to know about the man admitted in the Sion hospital, the result of an illness due to excessive drinking, a serious disease often suffered by the confirmed drunkards, often leading to death. It was not about him we worried, but about that lady and her three innocent girl-children. How would they proceed with a penniless existence in the city with nobody to look after them? That thoughts were gnawing, eventhough they were nobody to us and such unfortunate happenings were common in slum areas.
Within a week or two the expected worst news flashed across the area- the end of a sad story.
After his death, whenever we passed through the gully, we used to recall the man, sometimes, we could see the lady with her children in the morning, infront of water-taps with vessels in their hands, but she didn’t seem to notice anybody passing by. The thought about the lady and children tormented us a lot and would think, how they were pulling on their lives without livelihood.
We were mistaken. Livelihood, she had already found out. She had to look after her children. Without her who was their to protect them from the wily people in the area in that part of the city. Along with the sale of liquor she turned out to be a whore selling her body to those who approached her for momentary gratification. But what about her children? That thought began to nag us.
She caught train with them to her native district in the north of Kerala entrusted the upkeep of the children to a distant relative, promising her relative to send money for education and other needs of the children and came back to the city with determination hiding all her tears behind a mask with make-ups and adorned her head with flowers. A new avatar. The birth of a prostitute in the city is not at all a news.
That kind of wretched life went on for a while. A guilty conscience began to prick her constantly and that might have been the reason behind the formal ending of a chapter by bathing in kerosene and lighting of a match-stick....
The incident still haunts me and will continue to haunt me in my entire life even though she was a nobody to me. But was she a nobody to me? No No No….
“Even after a span of ten years the city still remains an attraction to me. I feel like the city still beckons me. In our times, city was somewhat calm and incident free and now unfortunately it is in turmoil. Law and Order in disarray, violent clashes and murders common in the Metropolis, terrorists roaming and roaring across the city like blood hounds massacring as many innocents as possible, deafening bomb-explosions and mind-boggling and chilling sights of mangled dead bodies and amidst all these the ruling politicians remain passive and also in deep slumber caring two hoots for the hardships of the Mumbaikars. Even in these uncertain times, the city still remains a fascination and attraction. Strange! What about your response?”- I was in a state of curiosity. My friend burst into laughter and it lasted for a few minutes and I felt embarrassed for a while. “My case is also like yours. Several times in a day, mind flies back to the bewitching city and I feel like going back to the dear old city and settle down there. Not only my case, it is the same with everybody who had been to the city in the past. It is such an enchantress. The same enchantress of the yester years. Gateway, Taj Intercontinental, the vast expanse of the ocean, Nariman Point, Marinedrive reminding me of a neck-lace during nights, Malabar Hill, Colaba in short every nook and corner of the city”- My friend uttered those words in a breathless tone.
She was settled at a posh locality in Colaba with her family. They used to take strolls in the city, often visited the Leopold restaurant frequented by foreign tourists daily, Gateway, Taj Intercontinental, parks and beaches whenever they got time. Nostalgia with its full vigour.
I often wonder, why this city still remains attractive and enchanting ever ready to embrace her old and new inhabitants even when writhing in pain due to the present day sorry incidents.
This is not to sing ‘Osana’ (eulogise) for the ever beloved city. This is actually intended to picture the darker side of the city life of which I was a witness and part for some years.
Fortunately or unfortunately, I had got chances of settling at various places in the suburbs. Labour Camp- part of Dharavi, Matunga Road, Parel, Borivalli and Ghatkoper- both east and west.
But most of the time, I was residing at a railway quarter, sublet by a Mangalorean, MahabhalaBhandare. Railway Quarters building No:84, Room No:18, I still remember it. Bhandare was living with his family of five, his wife Thamba, we Malayalees (Sala Madrasis in Marathi parlance) used to call her Amma, always clad in a dark blue sari, with a nose-stud adorned with a red stone, always talkative, daughter Geetha who was working in a private firm at Mahim, a slim, curly-haired pretty girl in her twenties dressed in maxi while at the quarters, she had also a nose-stud like her Amma, their three sons, Ganesh, Thara and Thama going on with their studies in colleges and school. We were three paying-guests, one Ravi, one Madrasi Brahmin, who didn’t mingle with anybody, always unfriendly, one Mr.Kutty, a short-statured youth, we used to call him Tinku and one Mr.Joseph, the senior most among us studying Hotel Management somewhere in the suburbs and My-self, working at the Foreign Exchange Department of a bank at Nariman point in South Mumbai. In one sense we were all existential outsiders, not much friendly with each other, each with his own problems and worries once in a while exchanged smiles. Formal introduction to each other was already over in one or two words.
I had a friend in the adjacent room and whenever we got time we used to walk down the streets discussing various matters both personal, official and city life, in short everything under the Sun.
There was no cooking facilities in our room and hence to have our daily food, both the breakfast and supper, we used to go to a Malayali mess on the outskirts of Matunga area daily in the morning and evening. Lunch was always from our nearby working places either from a hotel or from pav-bhaji wallas with their vehicles parked by the side of the road.
In the early morning after finishing our daily routine, my friend in the adjacent room and myself would step out of our rooms wearing shirt and tucking up our dhotis like typical Malayalees to the Malayalee mess affectionately known as “Sankunni Mess”. How that name got to the mess is still an unknown thing. Because there was nobody with the name Sankunni there.
We would take a few steps along the tarred road and then turn to the left, there were railway quarters buildings here and there both vertically and horizontally, passed through the route and would enter a gully untarred and pot-holed with innumerable slums lined along both sides of the way. In the mornings, it was a common sight to see women in queues with their vessels in front of water-taps to collect water for the day. Their husbands were a rare sight in the locality in the mornings, might have been in deep sleep after consuming illicit country-liquor in the evenings till their senses go out of control- a sort of inebriated condition.
While passing through the way, we used to watch the ladies and among them, one of them caught my attention, a moody, young woman in her thirty’s always engrossed in some thoughts. I used to see her husband, a lean man with untrimmed beard in an old torn dirty shirt and a lungi, always in an intoxicated condition. On holidays in the afternoons while passing through the gully, I could see him with his drunkard friends sitting in a circle playing poker game. Except in the morning, his wife was not seen at the premises. They had three children, all girls usually seen with their mother. In a slum, a mother, father and their three children, living in dire straits- I used to imagine their life with horror and compassion. Their only source of daily existence was the sale of illicit country-liquor to those visiting them.
One evening, I along with my friend reluctantly decided to visit their slum- a small dinghy room with asbestos roof and walls built with tin-sheets, the atmosphere permeated with the pungent smell of country-liquor. Alongside the walls there were three or four benches for those coming to have their drink to settle down, the three girl children could be seen sitting in a corner, playing some games, oblivious of the happenings around them, (innocence personified) the wife and husband pouring the colourless liquid with pungent odour into the glasses and supplying to the clients. Among the clients, I was shocked and embarrassed to notice a police man with his lathi in his lap taking liquor. A model custodian of law and order in the city of Mumbai. My God! The house-owner while supplying liquor to everybody there found time to have a gulp or two once in a while with warm smile displaying his smoke-stained teeth to each and everybody there. The wife even didn’t care to notice him the anger and hatred towards the man visible in her face who tied the ‘Mangalya Sutra’ around her neck once. She might have nursed wonderful dreams while accompanying him to the city after the marriage in the northern district of Kerala. Everybody in the world nurses dreams in their life and weave a lot of attractive pictures inside the inner chambers of their minds. Dreams, we must have, whether they will fructify or not is another matter.
Days went by. Months went by. One day while walking through the gully, we came to know about the man admitted in the Sion hospital, the result of an illness due to excessive drinking, a serious disease often suffered by the confirmed drunkards, often leading to death. It was not about him we worried, but about that lady and her three innocent girl-children. How would they proceed with a penniless existence in the city with nobody to look after them? That thoughts were gnawing, eventhough they were nobody to us and such unfortunate happenings were common in slum areas.
Within a week or two the expected worst news flashed across the area- the end of a sad story.
After his death, whenever we passed through the gully, we used to recall the man, sometimes, we could see the lady with her children in the morning, infront of water-taps with vessels in their hands, but she didn’t seem to notice anybody passing by. The thought about the lady and children tormented us a lot and would think, how they were pulling on their lives without livelihood.
We were mistaken. Livelihood, she had already found out. She had to look after her children. Without her who was their to protect them from the wily people in the area in that part of the city. Along with the sale of liquor she turned out to be a whore selling her body to those who approached her for momentary gratification. But what about her children? That thought began to nag us.
She caught train with them to her native district in the north of Kerala entrusted the upkeep of the children to a distant relative, promising her relative to send money for education and other needs of the children and came back to the city with determination hiding all her tears behind a mask with make-ups and adorned her head with flowers. A new avatar. The birth of a prostitute in the city is not at all a news.
That kind of wretched life went on for a while. A guilty conscience began to prick her constantly and that might have been the reason behind the formal ending of a chapter by bathing in kerosene and lighting of a match-stick....
The incident still haunts me and will continue to haunt me in my entire life even though she was a nobody to me. But was she a nobody to me? No No No….
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