Politicalization of Indian History

This post was originally posted around 2 years ago. It took me around a month to complete. It was my effort and how can it be censored? Why and how it was removed remains a mystery to me. Is it possible for someone to delete my posts? I don't know...Any ways re-posting it to check my assumptions.

I am a man who is an absolute sucker for History. Be it Indian History or World History, I have this tendency to poke my nose whenever and wherever something related to History is being discussed or talked about. I may not be as well read as the scholarly historians or even Mr. Jaswant Singh, but I know my history and also as I proclaim, I have multiple opinions about any topic which has the slightest hint of being argued. Hence I could not refrain myself from writing on the hot topic of Mr. Mohammed Ali Jinnah.

In fact, what you will read hereon will be a talk on a much larger perspective of India’s Modern History. How I have been feeling for a long time now, about the portrayal of facts and how the Text Books have been troubling me.

Whenever we start looking at our Independence Struggle, it begins at The Sepoy Mutiny of 1857. Well, calling it ‘A Sepoy Mutiny’ in itself is a misnomer as albeit the start it was a unified revolt of entire India that was under the control of British East India Company. The revolt had several inherent flaws resulting into its failure and bringing about a direct rule of the British Empire for the next 90 years. It was also a sort of laying the foundation of a political party, which has ruled for almost 55 years post Independence.

British learnt their mistakes quite quickly from the revolt. After the formations of just a few (albeit powerless and effect less) political parties like Dadabhai Naoroji’s East India Association in 1867, and Surendranath Banerjee’s Indian National Association in 1876, the British decided to let the vent of Indian people out through a medium which should act more like a safety valve(The well known – Safety Valve theory). Inspired by a suggestion made by A.O. Hume, a retired British civil servant, seventy-three Indian delegates met in Bombay in 1885 and founded the Indian National Congress. They were mostly members of the upwardly mobile and successful western-educated provincial elites, engaged in professions such as law, teaching, and journalism. At its inception, the Congress had no well-defined ideology and commanded few of the resources essential to a political organization. It functioned more as a debating society that met annually to express its loyalty to the British Raj and passed numerous resolutions on less controversial issues such as civil rights or opportunities in government, especially the civil service. These resolutions were presented to the Viceroy’s government and occasionally to the British Parliament. Despite its claim to represent all India, the Congress voiced the interests of urban elites; the number of participants from other economic backgrounds remained negligible.

Now, if the foundation itself was so measly and scrawny how do we expect a strong, fail-safe structure above it? My views here should NOT be interpreted as anti-Congress or anti-anything…I am just expressing my view point on something that has been and cannot be changed now.

So, coming back to the role of congress, we all know of its impinge on the common Indian in the early 20^th century. The first spurts of nationalistic sentiment that rose amongst Congress members were when the desire to be represented in the bodies of government, to have a say, a vote in the lawmaking and issues of administration of India. Congressmen saw themselves as loyalists, but wanted an active role in governing their own country, albeit as part of the Empire. This trend was personified by Dadabhai Naoroji, who went as far as contesting, successfully, an election to the British House of Commons, becoming its first Indian member.

Whatever happened thereafter, advent of Mahatma Gandhi, the Satyagrah movement, the appeals, the rejections and eventually the ‘freedom’ at the cost of partition of India and Pakistan is supposedly known to all of us. I specifically use the word ‘supposedly’ because whatever history a common educated man of India knows – knows it through the NCERT or other text books prescribed in the curriculum of their schooling.

This was where the Congress had foresightedness. Feed the forming minds with glory. Show them only the brighter side of everything that actually happened. Present ourselves in white light. Hide everything that could blot the image. Contradict the facts as and when required.

My statements are not baseless. I remember Ms Sarojini Naidu commenting about Mr Jinnah as “ambassador of Hindu-Muslim unity‘”. The Muslim League, formed in 1906, was the brainchild and conception of very few beleaguered Muslims under the leadership of Mr. Aga Khan. With their grievances and ‘national interest’ they went up to the then Viceroy of India, Lord Minto, who saw this as a nice opportunity to further decelerate the nationalism brewing in the country that time. I will like to quote Mr Aga Khan himself here, who had this to say about Mr Jinnah: “It was ‘freakishly ironic’ that ‘our doughtiest opponent in 1906′ was Jinnah, who ‘came out in bitter hostility towards all that I and my friends had done… He was the only well-known Muslim to take this attitude. He said that our principle of separate electorates was dividing the nation against itself.”

“Well, young man. I will have nothing to do with this pseudo-religious approach to politics. I part company with the Congress and Gandhi. I do not believe in working up mob hysteria.” This was what Jinnah had to say about his parting ways with Congress, to a Journalist Durga Das. The reference is from Durga Das’s classic book, India from Curzon to Nehru and After.

What actually went wrong between Jinnah and Congress? We may never come to know. However, we all must understand that there was certainly some issue which made this crusader of Congress turn hostile. Thereafter, he has been portrayed as a villain.

Unfortunately, people do not give the treatment ‘History’ deserves. We could all understand History in a much more elaborate manner if we did not treat it as a heroes-and-villains movie.

Moreover, its not just Mr Jinnah’s story. Cover-ups have happened all through the lexis of Modern History of India. Facts have been suppressed. Events have lost into the manors of obscurity. And again it is not a figment of my imagination. I will again sight an example – The origin of demand for ‘Complete Independence’.

The first Indian political organization to call for complete independence from British rule was the Ghadar (or Gadar) Party, organized in 1913 by Indian immigrants in California. The Ghadar movement was remarkable for many reasons. Although Sikhs from Punjab made up the majority of its founding members, the movement was completely devoid of any trace of regional or religious chauvinism. Its platform was uncompromisingly secular and called for a total rejection of any form of caste discrimination. And unlike the Congress, its membership was primarily drawn from the working class and poor peasantry. Sikhs, Muslims, and Hindus of all castes (including Dalits) were welcomed in the movement without bias or discrimination.

The literature of the Ghadar Party was also the clearest in describing the depth of misery that the common people of India experienced under British rule. They were also amongst the first to anticipate the outbreak of the First World War. Correctly sensing that it was an opportunity for the Indian people to liberate themselves from the yolk of colonial rule, they called for a mass movement for total independence. In their widely distributed poster, “Jang Da Hoka” (Declaration of War) they warned of the danger of Indian soldiers being drawn into the British War effort in the First World War.

The Congress failed to take advantage of this tremendous opportunity and leaders like Gandhi went as far as campaigning for the British War effort, calling upon Indians to enrol in the British Army. This treacherous and sycophantic policy of Gandhi not only drew biting criticism from Ghadar activists, but opposition from other quarters also emerged.

Now, how many of the Indian population have even heard the name of ‘Ghadar Party’? Forget the contributions they made. And why is it so?

Why have people who have such rich History to look at, not even bothered to pop simple questions? Why do they believe everything that is served in a platter to them with garnishing of fallacy so evident? Why can’t we question? Why is it hysteria if text books are tampered a little bit (even though the motive of that tampering was also political)? Why reading about us is ‘boring’? Why knowing facts is ‘Not Cool!’ ? Why History doesn’t interests people? Even simple facts like how our Constitution was formed is not known, the constitution which we all abide by or even just the claims to do so. How can we let a single party play around with our History? Why haven’t we read books like Freedom at Midnight by Dominique Lapierre and Larry Collins. And if we have read such text, why don’t we question? Where has the sensibility gone? I am bewildered! I sign off now…

Just leaving you with a few pics for your bewilderness …Enjoy!

Gandhi and Jinnah: In Happier Times

Nehru and Jinnah

Nehru in Happier Times

All The Best...My Friend!

I remember very clearly, it was the evening of 13th June 2001. I had completed 18 years of my life that fateful day – 18 years of living carelessly, with no or very small and short lived objectives and absolutely no sense of direction. I did not have any ambitions, any ideas or any motives in my life. I was living the life of a sheep in a herd that was just following all other sheep and had no clue about who or what was directing that heard. I was just blindly following everyone else. Also, that was the day, when I had almost given up – given up fighting, given up trying, given up even the idea of trying and fighting. I had not been selected in any of the Engineering Entrance Exams, I had secured a meagre 77% marks in Class XII boards and I was going to pursue a B.Sc. course in any of the colleges at Delhi University with absolutely no idea or clue as to why I wanted to do that.

My parents were never of the interfering sorts. Surprisingly, even at my failure they were indifferent. They gave me an option to do whatever I wanted, whatever I felt right…and on the other hand…I never knew what was right? …or what I wanted to do?...But this is not about me…this about you my friend.

That very fateful day when I was all alone, as all my friends were off to join their colleges and universities…lost into thoughts like a loser and feeling a low I had never ever felt… I was sent a messiah…a saviour of my soul…a guiding light who I later realised would help me find my way all through my life whenever I was or will be lost. May be he himself was looking for support and wanted someone to help him…may be whatever he said that day was to console himself too…but that day proved to be a turning point of my life. Within a few hours of talk he was able to give me a reason to believe in myself. He made me take one the best decisions to drop a year and go for engineering (even though I am of no use as an engineer now). He gave me direction. He made me dream. He made me realise that dreams are just not there to be dreamt in the night…but to be lived in the day. And all these were not just his preaching, he practised them…and practiced them well. We achieved what at that time was believed unachievable. He deserved much more…and he kept on moving forward…leaps and bounds…and Today he has again proved his mettle.

There are very few who have the audacity to walk the unbeaten path. There are very few who are able to match their actions with their words. There are a few who have the capability to stick their neck out of the crowd irrespective of their height. There are very few who have the courage and the heart to practice something as unorthodox and often rebuked as quitting a Rs 15 Lakhs + Benefits job and sitting down for a year to pursue what they always wanted to pursue. Very few of those who do have this courage and heart, have the capability to achieve it. And You – Mr Chandra Mohan Thakur - my friend have done it all. (OK! Agreed! There are few more of my friends who have done this…and done this all through their life…but Dudes! For today…Let it be him!) Proud to be able to just tell that you studied with me and I taught you Physics (although you never utilised it at any point after JEE…but still I taught you ;) )

Well Done! But…there’s still miles to go before you sleep…and miles to go before you sleep! So...All the best! I know you will keep shining...mightier and higher!

किंकर्तव्यविमूढ़

चलने ही चलने में कितना जीवन, हाय, बिता डाला!

'दूर अभी है', पर, कहता है हर पथ बतलानेवाला,

हिम्मत है न बढूँ आगे को साहस है न फिरुँ पीछे,

किंकर्तव्यविमूढ़ मुझे कर दूर खड़ी है मधुशाला।।७।

- श्री हरिवंश राय 'बच्चन' जी की इन अमूल्य और अतुल्य शब्दों के भावार्थ आज सत्य से प्रतीत हो रहे हैं। मुख्यतः मेरी परिस्तिथि पर। मैं निराशावादी नहीं हूँ। उल्टा अगर मेरी गिनती निराशावादीयों की श्रेणी में हो तो मैं उससे दुर्भाग्यपूर्ण घटना, अपने पूरे जीवन की, किसी और को नहीं मानूंगा। मेरा आज तक सिर्फ आशा की किरणों ने ही मार्ग दर्शन किया है। मैं आशावादी हूँ। मेरा मानना है कि, भविष्य सुन्दर है...भविष्य उज्जवल है...सिर्फ मेरा ही नहीं...समस्त पृथ्वी का। स्वाभाविक है कि अब आपका प्रश्न होगा कि फिर मैं निराशावादी क्यूँ प्रतीत हो रहा हूँ? उत्तर भी सरल है ...एकाग्रित हो कर उपरोक्त पंक्तियों को दुबारा पढ़ें ...उनमे निराशावाद से अधिक असमंजस है...भ्रान्ति है। मैं निराश नहीं हुआ अभी...पर हाँ, किंकर्तव्यविमूढ़ अवश्य हूँ। परिस्तिथियाँ ही कुछ ऐसी हैं, किन्तु परिस्तिथियों के विषय पर कभी और वार्तालाप करेंगे।

आज इस स्तिथि "किंकर्तव्यविमूढ़" के विषय में विचार विमर्श हो जाये?

किंकर्तव्यविमूढ़ता, साधारणतः एक अल्पजीवी अवस्था है। एक ऐसी अवस्था जिसमे आप अपनी सोचने, समझने और समस्या का समाधान निकालने में असक्षम हो जाते हैं। जब आपकी बुद्धिमत्ता पर अन्धकार कि एक चादर डल जाती है और आपको ऐसा प्रतीत होता है कि आप एक महासागर के मध्य में बिना किसी साधन के, बिना किसी मदद के, खड़े हैं। कुछ परिस्तिथियों में ऐसी अवस्था लाभ दायक भी साबित होती है, किन्तु अधिकांश तौर पे यह अवस्था बहुत हानिकारक होती है। क्या करें? क्या न करें?...ये प्रश्न बहुत ही विचलित करते हैं। तो इस अवस्था से निकालने का उपाय क्या है? साधारण मनुष्य जैसे कि मैं और आप ऐसी अवस्था में क्या करें?

मेरा मानना है कि मुझमें, आपमें और हम सब में एक असीम उर्जा का प्रवाह होता है...शारीरिक या भौतिक उर्जा नहीं ... किन्तु मानसिक उर्जा। मेरा यह भी मानना है कि मुझमे इस उर्जा का प्रवाह, असाधारण नहीं किन्तु पर्याप्त मात्रा में अवश्य होता है। मुझसे जब भी मेरी इस अविरल ऊर्जा स्त्रोत के विषय पर प्रश्न किया जाता है तो मेरे पास सिर्फ एक ही उत्तर होता है, और वो ये कि - हमारी मानसिकता, न की हमारी मानसिक स्तिथि, उस उर्जा का स्त्रोत है। अब आप इस विषय पर किंकर्तव्यविमूढ़ होंगे कि मानसिक उर्जा क्या है और इस चर्चा से उसका का क्या सम्बन्ध? सम्बन्ध यह है कि इस मानसिक उर्जा का प्रभाव आपकी मानसिक स्तिथि पर एक गंभीर रूप से उद्धारित होता है। यदि आपकी मानसिक उर्जा सही मात्रा में प्रवाहित होती है तो आपकी मानसिकता आपकी मानसिक स्तिथि को अधिकृत करने में सक्षम हो जाएगी। अब आपकी मानसिकता और आपकी उर्जा, दोनों ही दो प्रकार के हो सकते हैं - सकारात्मक या ऋणात्मक। यदि आपकी मानसिकता सकारात्मक है तो निःसंदेह आपकी उर्जा भी सकारात्मक होगी और ऐसा होने पर भले ही कैसी भी परिस्तिथि हो, कुछ क्षणों के लिए आप अवश्य अपना संतुलन खो देंगे, अवश्य ही निराश या नकारात्मक हो जायेंगे...किन्तु यह स्तिथि अल्पजीवी होगी...आप तीव्रता से अपने आप का संतुलन वापस पाने में सक्षम रहेंगे...एक आशा कि किरण आपमें वो पुरानी स्फूर्ति ला देगी जिससे आप अच्छी तरह अवगत हैं। उदाहरण के तौर पे - एक ऐसे दिन का ध्यान करिए जिसका आरम्भ किसी अच्छे समाचार या सन्देश से हुआ था...अवश्य ही वह आपका पूरा दिन सुखमय व प्रफुल्लित व्यतीत हुआ होगा? निष्कर्ष स्पष्ट होना चाहिए कि हमें एकमात्र सकारात्मक विचारों और परिणामों का ध्यान करना चाहिए। केवल सुविचारों के प्रवाह को प्रोत्साहित करना चाहिए। और इसके विपरीत स्तिथि वाले दिवस का भी एक बार ध्यान करिए जिस दिन आपको कोई बुरा समाचार या सन्देश मिला हो...वह दिन कैसा व्यतीत हुआ था? मैं ऋणात्मक उर्जा और मानसिकता के विषय में विस्तार से वार्तालाप नहीं करना चाहता क्यूंकि ऐसी विचारधारा पे समय व्यर्थ करना मैं उचित नहीं समझता। सद और असद विद्या, दोनों का ज्ञान होना आवश्यक है, पर मेरी समझ से आप सब इस "असद" विद्या से बोधित अवश्य होंगे। इसी कारणवश मैं नकारात्मक मानसिकता और उर्जा पर मैं अपनी उर्जा और समय व्यर्थ नहीं करना चाहता। एक वाक्य में - ऋणात्मक विचारधारा और मानसिकता से जितनी दूरी रखिये उतना ही लाभदायक होगा।

एक बार जब विचारधारा पर आपका नियंत्रण हो जाये, उसके बाद का कार्य अति सरल हो जाता है। उसके बाद आपको सिर्फ एक ओर बढ़ना होता है...सिर्फ निर्णय लिए ही कार्य करने होते हैं। ध्यान रहे कि बढ़ने से पहले या कार्य करने से पहले आप फिर उसी विचलित अवस्था में न चले जाएँ...कि इस ओर बढे तो क्या होगा? ये कार्य किया तो क्या होगा? यदि हमने जैसा सोचा है वैसा नहीं हुआ तो? ऐसे विचार कृपा कर के अपने मस्तिष्क में न लाये..ये मेरा अति विनम्र और अटल अनुग्रह है आपसे। हम में से कोई भी भविष्य नहीं जानता। यदि हम इसी विचार में रहे कि हमारे किस कार्य का क्या परिणाम होगा, हम अपना जीवन उसी विचार में व्यतीत कर देंगे और हमें कभी जानकारी नहीं होगी कि उस कार्य का असल जीवन में क्या परिणाम होता? कार्य कर के तो देखो आप, कि परिणाम क्या होता है? अन्यथा आपको वो ज्ञान कैसे होगा? बिना कार्य किये या बिना निर्णय लिए ही आप कैसे जान जाओगे परिणाम? दूसरों कि ओर ना देखो, दूसरों कि परिस्तिथियों से तुलना ना करो। कृपा करता हूँ...आग्रह करता हूँ। दूसरों कि भूल से सीख लेना अच्छी बात है, किन्तु हर किसी कि परिस्तिथि एक नहीं होती, हर व्यक्ति कि क्षमताएं एक नहीं होती...इसलिए यदि किसी और ने आपके समान कोई परिस्तिथि में कोई निर्णय लिया और वह निर्णय या कार्य उसे भरी पड़ा तो आवश्यक नहीं है कि वाही कार्य या निर्णय आपके लिए भी भरी पड़ेगा। आप कार्य कर के तो देखो, निर्णय ले कर तो देखो...यदा कदा में न रहो...जीवन में इतने सारे यदा कदा हैं कि उन सबका उत्तर स्वयं इश्वर के पास नहीं होगा। कार्य करो, फल कि भी इच्छा करो, किन्तु फल कि इच्छा में कार्य न करो, ये तो उचित नहीं है। एक छोटे से शिशु का ही उदाहरण लो...यदि उसे यह ज्ञान होता कि जब वह अपने पहले पग उठाएगा तो अवश्य ही गिरेगा और उसे चोट लगेगी तो क्या कोई भी शिशु कभी भी चल पाता?

'मधुशाला' कि जिन पंक्तियों से मैंने इस चर्चा का प्रारंभ किया था, उनसे ही अंत भी करना चाहूँगा...और शायद श्री बच्चन जी कि उन अगली पंक्तियों से आपको मेरे चर्चा का सन्दर्भ भी समझ आये ...

मदिरालय जाने को घर से चलता है पीनेवला,

'किस पथ से जाऊँ?' असमंजस में है वह भोलाभाला,
अलग-अलग पथ बतलाते सब पर मैं यह बतलाता हूँ -
'राह पकड़ तू एक चला चल, पा जाएगा मधुशाला।'। ६।

चलने ही चलने में कितना जीवन, हाय, बिता डाला!
'दूर अभी है', पर, कहता है हर पथ बतलानेवाला,
हिम्मत है न बढूँ आगे को साहस है न फिरुँ पीछे,
किंकर्तव्यविमूढ़ मुझे कर दूर खड़ी है मधुशाला।।७।

मुख से तू अविरत कहता जा मधु, मदिरा, मादक हाला,
हाथों में अनुभव करता जा एक ललित कल्पित प्याला,
ध्यान किए जा मन में सुमधुर सुखकर, सुंदर साकी का,
और बढ़ा चल, पथिक, न तुझको दूर लगेगी मधुशाला।।८।

धन्यवाद।

You Bihari! You £$%&@!

Circa: 2006 A.D. Route: Poona – Jamshedpur. Services: Azad Hind Express, Indian Railways. Scene: A typical 3AC compartment – with a youngster trapped amidst – a family of five with three annoyingly hyper-active and argumentative kids on only four reserved berths; an old lady, from the southern extensions of this vast country, yapping her way to glory; and a middle aged couple munching on the popular snacks of the region and utilising the floor as the waste bin.

The wondrous services of Indian Railways had ensured that the passengers of that particular services – get to travel no faster than a bullock cart (comprehending to the ever increasing demand to “enjoy the scenic beauty of countryside India”), halting at every signal post constructed on that route (to facilitate the realisation that none of these posts stood without a reason) and derive the immense pleasure of a stuffy, non-functional AC coach (in order to motivate passengers to use regular sleeper class coaches and improve on fuel efficiency).

Old Lady, who was from some obviously indomitable state of Southern India, had some amazing ability to convert her thoughts into the words and to blurt them out without the application of any filters, and was flaunting, very precariously, her “prim and proper” self. First, it was the turn of the oh-so-innocent middle aged couple who had had Bhel-Puri, Kachhi-Dhabeli and others of the sort, while feeding the poor and hungry floor more than their own beloved stomachs, on the topic of hygiene and cleanliness, and garnering a total oblivion in return. The wife had managed a perplexed look on her face and was looking towards her husband for a respite and a riposte, but fortunately he was unperturbed. Without the lack of vigour, she turned her energy towards the kids – the kind she claimed to have mastered in her school as she was an English Teacher. Lessons on the importance of discipline and obedience poured on the poor souls unblemished and vehemently. The compartment was turning into a ‘Moral Science’ classroom.

She was gloriously yapping to the innocent kids, “Everybody must do their own work”, when her lecture was interrupted. “Everybody must do his or her own work…Not ‘their own work’…a common Pronoun error” a voice broke. The poor, ignorant youngster had no idea then, what wrath he had unveiled on himself. The old lady’s jaw dropped. She could not believe her ears or eyes. How dare an indecorous and insolent young fellow who was still busy in his cell-phone, make such a preposterous remark at her?

Old Lady: (Turning towards the youngster in utter disbelief) Excuse me?
Youngster: (with his eyes still fixated on his phone) It is a very common grammatical error, where the pronoun is not in agreement with the number of nouns it is referring to.
Old Lady: (with “How dare you?” expression on her face) What?
Youngster: (now giving her a casual look) Yes! Everybody and own are the mismatch here – plural and singular. Hence, instead of their, it should be his or her. I hope I am making sense.
Old Lady: (trying to calm down now) Yes! Very Much! Thank you for the correction. (Forgets about the Moral Science lecture) So…Where did you do your schooling from?
Youngster: (again…Casually) DPS.
Old Lady: (with excitement) DPS, Bangalore?
Youngster: (with a perplexed look on his face) Do they have a DPS there? I am afraid; my knowledge is limited about the expanse of the fraternity. I am a DPS, Bokaro Steel City, alumni.
Old Lady: Oh! Alright…So your father works in Bokaro Steel Plant, but you are from Kerala?
Youngster: (with signs of disgust on his face) What made you arrive at this conclusion?
Old Lady: (with some sense of pride at her derivation) Well! For one, you have very good English, and second you look quite the Mallu.
Youngster: (Irritated) I apologise to be continuously disappointing you, but I am from Bihar, and Bhojpuri is my mother tongue.
Old Lady: (in disbelief again) But…But that cannot be.
Youngster: (somewhat mockingly) Again an improper sentence, or rather, an incomplete sentence. There has to be a verb or noun at the end of the sentence. For example “But that cannot be true or correct”. Now, may I have the pleasure of knowing why that cannot be true or correct?
Old Lady: (getting back to her “prim and proper” self) That is precisely the reason why it cannot be correct. You don’t sound like a Bihari.
Youngster: (with disgust) Excuse me! Then, according to you, how do Biharis sound like?
Old Lady: They do not have such good English and their pronunciations are even worse. How come you have such good English?
Youngster: (muttering mockingly) What can you say? My Mom and Dad conceived me on the banks of Thames and my Dad even went a step ahead to sprinkle those holy waters on her womb.
Old Lady: I am sorry!
Youngster: (smiling and now audibly) To break your preconceived notions, all the educated Biharis I have come across, do have a fabulous fluency in and knowledge of, English. Without being modest, I can confidently say I am not even a noteworthy example. In fact, I am astonished that you being an English Teacher are startled at my English.
Old Lady: (perturbed by the retorts) Son! I have been into teaching for the past 22 years. I have been in Jamshedpur for 6 years now, teaching at two of the best schools the city has, and I have never come across a Bihari student who could dare point out my grammatical errors. Let alone the grammar, the pronunciation is an even bigger issue. You must have had very good teachers at your school.
Youngster: (muttering again) Then what did you think? My Mom gave me the chutney of Wren and Martin’s English Grammar and Composition, instead of gripe water, to help me digest my food?
Old Lady: (perplexed look)
Youngster: Obviously my teachers had a good role to play in my education but that does not single me out. As far as pronunciation is concerned, according to me, Biharis have the best and the most correct. We speak the clearest and pronounce each word as it has been described in the oxford dictionary. Anyways! Since we are having this conversation, please oblige me with your description of a typical Bihari. I promise, I will take it very healthily and in the right spirit. Also, my answers might help you understand us better (and he smiles a wry smile).

(The explanation will follow soon…)

Be my Anti-Valentine. Will Ya?

Love is in the air! Everyone’s going mushy and lovey dovey! Everyone is discussing abour gifts. Everyone has a story to tell. All this has truly set the mood for the upcoming celebration of “Love” – The Valentine’s Day!


Isn’t it an awesome story, that a Saint dies because he used to conduct secret marriage ceremonies in defiance of Claudius II – “the cruel” emperor of Rome. He became a martyr and the day he died began to be celebrated as sending the Love messages day and celebration of Love, in Rome and amongst its Catholic followers. All this ensued about 1800 years ago. But, unlike any other celebration or festivals, this day has ceased to be linked with a specific religion or community. There are no rituals which need to be performed, no customs that need to be followed, no mass to attend, no candles to light…Just be with your Love and make him/her happy with a gift or a message or a special arrangement.


This makes me think, why do I need to be looking forward for only one such day? I can do it all 365 days of the year. I can do it whenever I want. My Love is not restricted to be celebrated only once a year. I can celebrate it anytime. Anytime I am with her or not with her. Anytime we miss each other or are happy. Anytime we have kissed and made up after a fight. Anytime. And, I think all those in Love would agree with me.

Then why just this one day? How did we never hear of this day, when we were growing up? How come so many associated days with it now, like Chocolate day, Rose Day, Promises Day, Card Day? The answer shoul not be difficult to answer by anyone. It is simple, and should be obvious to everyone – Commercialisation! How else do you expect the Telecom Industry to charge premium rates for SMS and calls that day? How else do you think Gifts and cards Retailers would boom their sales? How else would Chocolate Manufacturers rake in moolahs? How else would the Flower Marketeers ask exhorbitant prices? How else would the “General” People who love to be fooled by everyone would get another chance to be fooled?

I am not a pessimst, in fact, I am better known as an optimist. But, I just can’t stand this commercialisation of a feeling/emotion/state as beautiful as Love. It is even getting worse now. First, the Moronic Negligent Youngsters started the exploitation of this day to fulfil their stupid desires. This gave the even bigger Morons of the political system of India to cause even more damage, insult and injury to the nation.

I am not professing anything against this “day”, or any other day…I just want people to …Think!
Hope that is not a difficult task, after all everyone “thinks” so much for the gifts to buy. Spare a thought on this, if you can!

Leaving you with some figures you might find interesting. If anybody can get similar data for India, I will be grateful.

• Hallmark began selling cards in 1913. Since then the market for Valentine's Day cards has increased beyond lovers to include parents, children, siblings, and friends.
• About 190 million cards are exchanged annually, making Valentine's Day the second-most popular greeting-card giving occasion.
• 65 percent of households send greeting cards on Valentine's Day.
• 73 percent of Valentine Day flowers are bought by men, while women buy 23 percent of Valentine flowers.
• About 45.8 percent of U.S. consumers will exchange Valentine's Day candy. About 75 percent of is from sales of chocolate
• Americans will spend about $14.7 billion in retail sales on Valentine's Day in the United States.
• The average U.S. consumer is expected to spend $103 on Valentine's Day gifts, meals, and entertainment, down from $123 per person in 2008.
  

And you thought SHE had spared me? Part IV

“Oh! Yes! Mr Deepak Kumar! We have spoken to the Leicestershire Constabulary and they have agreed to issue a letter addressed to Consulate General of India stating the loss of your passport and a reference number. You can go get it from them and make you application with the fee”. Was I dreaming? Was it really happening? After 3 months? My momentary joy knew no bounds. Had it not been so many people around, I would definitely have jumped high in the air. I was so elated with the news that I almost forgot that She plays these tricks in between to laugh at my responses. I was literally running back to the train station to head to Leicester, when I realised, that bloody if this was all he wanted to say, he could have asked his manpower to key in this message too in the e-mail. I could have got the letter and made the application straight away without making this trip twice. This was the point I realised that She must be up to some nasty tricks, and I should calm down till I get the passport. So, I reach the Constabulary, tell them what I was told in the CGI Office and Voila! The constable types this letter immediately:

The actual letter issued by Leicestershire Constabulary (Few critical details blackened deliberately)
I simply could not believe it. After this agonising wait and trauma, I was going to have a new passport. It was certain. At least it seemed so. Next day, I was before time, for the first time at the CGI Office. One of the first few to enter the office. My application with all the documents except the letter which I was carrying was already with the Passport officer. I had also carried £ 84 in cash as the fee for issuing a new passport in UK, so that the process is not interrupted in between. The officer took the letter from me, attached it to my application, asked me to change the date of application and sign at the changes and then directed me to the counter where I needed to pay the fees and hand him the receipt. I paid and handed him the receipt. He asked me to come back after two weeks to collect my passport, as that is the time they generally take for student’s passport. I was so amazed and relieved that I cannot explain it in words. It all happened so smoothly that I could not believe it. The Lady Luck must have gone on a short excursion or must have been busy somewhere else. All this was totally unexpected in her perfect plan, I thought. But, I was soon to be proven wrong. I reached home in 3 hours and was unable to wipe that smile for all those 3 hours. I was exhilarated, but not for long.

Those two weeks seemed the longest wait amidst all the waiting I had done. All the planning was taking place. I would get the passport on 12th. Fill in the TOC (Transfer of Conditions) form of UK BA and post it by 13th. Should be able to get the passport back by the mid of August. Enough room for delays to accommodate, and still make it for my scheduled trip to India in the last week of September. All this was well worked out. Or so I thought. I had ignored Her in all this planning. Still, it was 12th of July. I was there again. First in the queue at 2:30 pm. Passports were supposed to be collected only in the second half of operations of the office. Excited, I reached the passport officers window. He went through his file and disappointedly looked at me and said, it is not ready yet as the passport printing machine is under repairs, come back next week. I was a little disheartened, but still hopeful that one more week…No problems…will wait! Another week passed and again on 19th I was standing in the front of the queue. I should have realised that day that standing in the front of the queue was not that auspicious for me, but did save a lot of time. This time, when I was on the window, the passport officer was alarmed himself. He said that it does not take this much of time; there surely is some problem with my application. He asked me to come back again the next day, he will make a check about where is it stuck in the process. The machine had started working fine and all the pending applications were cleared. So he needs to ensure as to where the problem is. I was ok with the response as he had promised some action. This time instead of going back to Leicester, I stayed over at Birmingham at a friend’s place.

Next day again I was in there and the officer also had the answer with him. “Patna Office, from where your passport was issued, has not sent back your PVR. We are waiting for that. In fact, after you went back yesterday I found that your application is awaiting PVR, so I sent another fax to them demanding the PVR. Let’s hope they send it soon. Until it arrives, nothing can be done!” WTF? I had shivers down the spine. Goosebumps all over my body. What do I do now? How does Patna office get involved here? My God! They do not utter a word from their mouth without being bribed, how will they send my PVR (Police Verification Report)? Even if they accidentally send it forward, there is nobody at my home to attend to the verification and bribe those Policemen who visit. This is a well known fact to all those who have applied for a passport, that your PVR is not sent across till you bribe at least Rs 500 to Policemen. Now what do I do? I will have to inform my family. They will panic for sure, but have no options available. Again, you can witness a brilliant plan at work. My Lady Luck had worked on each and every intricate detail. The intricacy of this plan was further realised when I requested the Passport officer at CGI, Birmingham to pass me the telephone number of Patna office. I wanted to take a chance of sorting things myself first. High Hopes! I know! But it was more of desperation.

Anyways, I made the call to the Patna office, an international call. Explained my situation to the first person who picked the call, he transferred my call to somebody else. Again I blurted out the same story, again a call forwarded. Third time lucky, I spoke to the right person. He asked me to hold on as he somehow remembered receiving such a fax from Birmingham. He drew out the fax or my application; I guess and said “हाँ भाईसाहेब! हमको ई बताइए …जब आपका पता झारखण्ड का है तो PVR पटना काहे आया है? इसको तो राँची जाना चाहिए ना? हम हियाँ से झारखण्ड में पुलिस भेरिफिकेसन कैसे भेजे? हैं? बताइए? आप fax राँची भिजवाइए ऊहे लोग कुछ करेगा …हम कुछ नहीं कर सकते परनाम!” (Dude! Your passport states and address of Jharkhand state so the PVR request should go to Ranchi, instead of coming here to Patna, Bihar. We cannot direct Jharkhand Police to do verification for us and hence send your PVR request to Ranchi. We cannot help.) Shocked? At least I was. A fear unlike all the fears, except and of course what happened after the initial shocks, had gripped me. Everything started flashing in front of me. My passport was made in year 2001, and although the separation of Bihar and Jharkhand had occurred, Jharkhand was yet to open a passport office. Hence, my passport was made in Patna and hence this office has sent a request there. I immediately ran back to the officer. Waited for my turn and blurted out the problem. I asked him to send the request to Ranchi. He said, he cannot do that, as the Place of Issue on my old passport is Patna, and even if he does so, Ranchi office will come back saying that they did not issue it and hence they cannot carry out any requests for the passport.
Another deadlock? I was doomed! What should I do now? I will never get my passport. My Lady Luck has perfectly crafted this plan. There is no way out!

(A new drama unfolding…only one more part to go!)

And you thought SHE had spared me? - Part III

Days turned into weeks and months, and I did not hear anything from the CGI office. My Lady was winning bouts after bouts. I was knocked out. Completely! She had decided this time, probably, that she is not going to let go off me…easily! She had had enough of these small little quarrels and wanted some big action. A total dominion. A war to prove her final authority. A trap from which I cannot find my way out without cutting off a limb. Quite frankly…I was also prepared to do so.

The wait, as I had said, was never ending. After a few initial mails I guess CGI had forgotten about me…or so I thought. I would ring them up religiously every day, but no one would pick up. Here’s a BIG information for all the Indians in UK, the CGI, Birmingham office have officially stopped entertaining phone calls, so no point calling on the numbers provided by them on the website or directory listings. Anyways, when after one my exams ended, I paid another visit to the office in May last week. Yes…you heard it right…it was May last week already. Almost two months had passed since I lost my passport, but I was unable to even put forth my application for a new one. As usual, at the office, the queues too were never ending. From 1st floor where the main office is, through the stairs, down to the ground floor. I was probably the 150th person in the queue. People of India, if you are listening, consider this as my humble, sincere, honest request, that it is high time we check our population. Soon there will be no part of the world left where we Indians won’t be queuing up for one or the other thing. It’s not a joke anymore. You thought it was bad in India? Well…Wake up! Wake up! We have not spared any part of the world now. You think Government Babus are inefficient only in India? Wake up again! They are Indian Babus…inefficiency is probably a criteria for their selection. Anyways…let’s not go there. Let’s stick to the wondrous work of My Lady Luck!

With so many trips, so much of running around that small office, I had become friends with every nook and corner, except the Babus of the office who have probably no knack for friendship. Forget friendship, they are absolutely emotionless. There was a huge emotional scene that day. An Indian family who had got British citizenship and British passport wanted an immediate/emergency visa to be issued to them as their mother had died in India. But, they had been back from India only a few days ago after visiting their ailing mother. The visa officer, in such a situation, was demanding a death certificate from them. Can you imagine? The lady, whose mother had died, was barely in her senses because of the shock. And the brilliant officer was demanding a death certificate of her mother, someone who had died only a few hours ago. Amazing! Isn’t it? Well! That’s a dose of Indian Babudom for you.

My Lady Luck was undeterred with all this. She kept her focus on to me. Continuously! When finally I arrived at the Passport Officer’s window, after an agonising wait of two small hours, all he had to say was that I should come back after a few weeks; and they are in talks with the Constabulary to work out a solution.

How amazingly encouraging that was? Only a ‘few weeks’ more of wait? I can do that. Have been doing it so far, can do it further. Add to that, the reply to my another question of why no one picks the phone here? – “Oh! We have stopped entertaining phone calls as we do not have the man power to manage that…if you have any queries come directly to office”. There were several implied conclusions in the statement. 1. Do not bother to call ever again. 2. Do not bother to e-mail, ever again. 3. Keep running from Leicester to Birmingham, which is four hours and £ 10 to and fro by Coach, or two hours and £ 20 to and fro by train.

All righty Sire! Whatever you say! As long as you are on to my case, I will do whatever you ask me to. Back to Leicester. The wait was even more agonising as I had learnt that, I will have to reapply for my Student Visa i.e. a duplicate of the one that was lost along with the passport. The procedure takes four to six weeks and costs £ 380. I had not paid this much, even when I had applied for it from India. In India the fees are only Rs 12,500. I had no source of income, my bank balance was depleting at the rate of knots, I could not ask my family for more money as I would have to tell them the reason, and exams are appearing as a swaying sword just inches above my neck. Brilliant situation! Wasn’t it? I need NOT to reiterate now, how perfectly planned this war was. She had thought about each and every detail, while I was completely off-guard and clueless about each of my next step.

Most of the June passed by amidst examinations, career events and prep for dissertation, when on the glorious morning of 27th June, I received an unexpected e-mail. I had been called to the CGI office as Passport Officer wants to meet me. Wow! They finally write to me, after almost 2 months. They had the manpower this time who could key in a sentence on that e-mail “Kindly report to Mr Hazari Lal, at CGI, Birmingham office at the earliest”. And off I go!

Soon (not to be confused by this word as it involved 20 minute walk to Train Station Leicester, 40 minute walk from Birmingham New Street Station to Jewellery Quarters where the office is and another rigorous wait of one hour), I got a chance to speak to Mr Hazari Lal, who recognised me immediately. What he said afterwards was –unbelievable – to say the least. I could not believe my ears. How was that possible? Had she given up on me? Or was this another one of her tricks? I would soon find out. The Officer-in-charge for issuing new passports at CGI, Birmingham said …

(He He He! Sorry! More to come…in the next parts! If you like or do not like what you are reading I would be very delighted to read your comments. Please spare a few seconds to appreciate or denounce/criticise/mock me! Thanks!)

And you thought SHE had spared me? - Part II

7 days and £ 80 poorer, I had no clue as to what my fate was. Will I ever get a passport? Will I ever get to leave this country? Will I be deported? What? The questions kept on haunting me and I had no answers…from anywhere. I had written to the High Commissioner, I had written to the Consulate General, I had met my University’s Student Welfare Officer, I had met 5 Constables. There were no answers. I got a reply from High Commissioner’s office the next day, which was again a disappointment as it stated that only the Consulate General Office in Birmingham could help me. I was off for another trip to Birmingham. In the meanwhile, I had procured all the other documents required for the application of a new passport in lieu of the lost passport. A stamped affidavit from Notary Public stating I am not seeking asylum in UK – Check. Four Passport Size photographs stamped by Notary Public – Check. Copies of my old passport and Visa – Check. Cost involved in Affidavit - £ 8 for Affidavit + £ 60 for registering with him. Cost involved in Photographs - £ 7. Total expenditure till 8th April - £ 165. Net result – Zilch! Add to that the misery of not being able to speak to any of my family members, so that they do not panic…especially my Mom!

Cheers to the Lady Luck! For the first time ever, she was able to kill my fighting spirit. On the bus, that day, on the way to Birmingham, for the first time I was literally begging her to go away and leave me alone. I had accepted my defeat. I was not willing to fight her anymore. But, she…no no no…she was not done with me yet. She wanted her revenge and made sure it was slow and painful.

I was again at the office. This time at the correct window at the first go, but only after a good long wait of more than an hour. Mr Hazari Lal, the Passport Officer at CGI, Birmingham was there. He went through the policy change document. Spoke to the Officer in Leicester Constabulary. He was more bamboozled than I was. At loss of words, he stammered and muttered “Oh…aa…mmm…then…then…this requires a change in the Gazette of India…I will have to escalate this to Ministry of Foreign Affairs”. Change in Gazette of India? Ministry of Foreign Affairs? Was he playing with me in those dire moments? Was I hearing things? Was he serious? Am I dead?

I had to actually pinch myself to get back to senses. He then asked me to leave my application with him, not to pay my fees for the passport at that moment and once he has a clarification from his superiors he will get back to me. He asked me to leave all my contact details with him and wait. Wait. With no specification on the length of time…With the change in Gazette of India involved…and With Ministry of Foreign Affairs of India coming into picture…I could, at that time, only imagine about how long the wait is going to be?

With heavy heart and heavier steps, I walked back to the bus station. My wait had started…an almost never-ending wait. One of the e-mails in between had surprising new information from the CGI. It was only the Leicestershire Constabulary in the entire UK which had brought in such a change of policies. All other Constabularies were still taking the reports for lost passports. Oh Wow! How could I have not seen that coming from the Lady? Of course! It had to be only my constabulary and on the day these changes were brought into effect. Well done lady! As always…Perfect! This implied that there could be no change in the Gazette for one constabulary. It also implied, in a way, that I am stuck in UK for life…At least, it seemed so, at that moment.

(Part 3 Coming soon…The war for the Passport continues and add to that a new battle for the Visa!)

And you thought SHE had spared me?

I am the kind of man, who absolutely cherishes to have people around. Solitude scares me. Even the MBTI Assessment results proved that. (MBTI is a personality assessment where one of the tests is about the source from where we draw our energy i.e. whether we draw our energy from the outside world – extroversion or from within ourselves – introversion). I am a certified Extrovert. I enjoy the company of people. I enjoy talking to absolute strangers. I enjoy forging new relationships. Also, I value friendships or relationships more than anything else in my life. I believe that my friends are the only income I have had in the past 27 years (not ignoring the fact that my bank balance is in debt, whether in terms of Rupees or Pounds). I hate losing any of them and hate breaking any relationships.

But…Sometimes…just sometimes…you just can’t get rid of someone from your life…No matter how much you hate them…they still keep on loving you…keep on showering their (unwanted) blessings…provide their (unneeded) services… undeterred by the dreary and lacklustre response I give…only sometimes…just sometimes…I act like a dog that gets a flea near its tail and keeps going round and round in order to bite the life out of this irksome flea.

Oh Dear! Now that I have called her flea and totally ignoring the fact that I called myself a dog, I am wondering what blessings she will shower now. There seems no respite for me, from her… my Lady Luck…In case you did not get it till now!

She loves me way too much. She cannot live a day without letting her presence felt in my life…and what an emphatic presence she has.

Well, to begin with, I lost my passport. Not today…not yesterday…but in April last year….to be precise…on 1st of April, 2010. Yeah! She made a fool of me, quite well! I was shifting from my University accommodation to privately rented house, as they are much cheaper here. On that dreadful day, I do not know how, I lost my passport. Got scared so much that was almost ready to poop in my pants. I ran immediately towards the Police Station (Not to poop…but to lodge a complaint). The nearest one was closed as everything in this lovingly cold country closes down at 5pm. Made a rush to the main constabulary office. Quite a hike it was. Thoughts for the answer of one simple question “Now what?” were flashing at a rate faster than what an Intel i8 processor can handle. By the time I reached the main constabulary it was 7 pm and most of the constables had left. An old lady graced the reception, and after asking all possible queries that police officers ask to quench their thirst of questioning (though she was quite gentle and polite in her questioning), she said “Our policies have changed. We DO NOT register complaints or provide crime reference numbers for loss of any 3rd party IDs i.e. Non-UK Passports, Driving Licenses or any other ID not issued in UK, anymore. These changes have been implemented only from today. I am sorry.” I stood stunned. “WHAT?” was the only word I could utter. Probably for the second time in the day and fourth time ever, I was looking so fair. I must have turned into some shade of yellow or brown from black, due to sudden disappearance of blood from my body. Even the Lady Constable noticed the sudden change of shade and tried to calm me down. She explained, very politely, the change of policies again, and asked me to contact the High Commission of India for further details or help and even if the Police are able to find my Passport or somebody is kind enough to return it, it will still be sent to HCI, London.

Well Done My Lady! As always, you timed your blessings to perfection.

Next day was even more dreadful. Called up HCI, London but they directed me towards Consulate General of India Office, Birmingham. Made at least 100 calls to that office, but no one answered. Had to rush to Birmingham immediately as I panicked further. Well! My panicking was for no small reason. It was 2nd April. A Good Friday. A public Holiday. A waste of £ 30. But money was of no concern at that time. A wait of 3 annoying days for any progress. Meanwhile, I brought both my accommodations upside down. Searched the entire 4 bedroom house, the room of University Accommodation, and all the shops on the route to my estate agents where I had thankfully given a copy of the passport and visa for rent agreement (the only copies I had). Result – more disappointment. This war was lopsided. She was winning every bout. It was Monday – Finally. Another trip to Birmingham. Another waste of £ 30. It was Easter Monday. Again a public holiday, about which they had no mention on their website and nor on the notice board when I was there on Friday. Bloody Bu&&%£$! I almost went down on knees and was about to cry when an Indian Sardar gentlemen asked me about my worries. I blurted it all out like baby. He calmed me down and told me it will be sorted. I needed to Come back the next day.

Next day, by the grace of the almighty Lady Luck and a poor decision taken by me to travel by bus, I was 3 hours late of my scheduled arrival. By the time I was at the office, it was Lunch. Had to wait 3 annoying hours for them to reopen. (Who the hell has Lunch for 3 freaking hours? Apparently Indian Babus do.) When they reopened, I had another of my “Pale Moments” (and not before I had to wait another hour for my queries to be answered and being thrown around from one desk to another). The officer-in-charge said they cannot do anything until and unless I have a formal Police complaint, as that is the gazetted rule of India and they have not received any notification from the constabulary about any of the changes I mentioned. Bravo! Back to Leicester. Back to the Constabulary. This time around, the officer who was present went ahead and gave me a copy of the policy change document along with his contact number and Officer number, so that the officer’s in CGI can call him up and verify the notification, which according to him was sent across to all the High Commission offices in UK.

Another trip to Birmingham the next day. Another long queue. Another disappointment. The officer in-charge was on leave. He had called in sick.

If you, only at this point, think or feel it’s an exaggeration, I would suggest you better not read further. Or if, you are feeling sorry for me, save it. This is just the beginning.

(As this, unlike all previous one’s, is not a short battle which lasted a few hours or a few days…but infact a full scale war, which lasted exactly 152 days, I am breaking it down into a series of post. Hopefully you all will enjoy the tussle! So…tada! till tomorrow!)

जी करता है!

कभी कभी यूँही हमें

पंख लगा, दूर गगन में,

उड़ जाने को जी करता है!

भूल दुनिया की दुनियादारी

रस्मे, कसमे, रिश्तेदारी

अपनी उड़ान अजमाने को जी करता है!

किसको क्या दिया? किस से क्या लिया?

अनभिज्ञ हो इतने बरस क्या जिया?

सब बिसराने को जी करता है!

कहाँ जाना है? क्या पाना है?

बेमानी से लगते, उठते

इन सवालों को ठुकराने का जी करता है!

क्यूँ हम नींद में भी जागे?

क्या होगा… जाने आगे?

पथ छोड़, खो जाने को जी करता है!

धुप की तपन तन जलाएगी,

या बसंती बयार शीतल कर जाएगी?

ऐसे अनुभव पाने को जी करता है!

भूले सारे अरमानो में,

बिसरे बचपन के गानों में,

एक नया प्राण फूँक जाने को जी करता है!

पंख लगा, दूर गगन में,उड़ जाने को जी करता है!

My Affair With Talent

Talent is one thing which I have never possessed in my life. My parents always used to say, in fact, are used to saying that there has never been a dud like me in the whole family. And I have been trying to make up for it throughout whatever life I have had. And there is no need to say I have failed miserably every time. I find it a miracle that I have made it so far in engineering. As I was saying, I have goofed up every time I tried to do something clever. So I thought if I give my parents a talented daughter in law perhaps that will make them happy. And so my affair(s) with talent began.

First up I thought that talent meant getting good marks. So I started to look up for the most intelligent girl in my class. And there she was! She was always the topper from my class. With her thick glasses and a large load of books on her shoulder, she wasn’t exactly the most beautiful girl, but as I said, very ‘talented’. And you won’t believe my luck; she fell for it (I later discovered it was because no other boy liked her)! So we started going out. I overlooked any whispering and giggling – when we passed by any group – very righteously and contemptuously. I made myself believe that they all were jealous of me. But to be honest, being with her wasn’t really exciting. She kept talking about books, subjects and marks (I hated the last part). She also vowed that she will make me study harder (I shuddered) and help me get good marks. But I endured. But finally when she proposed I had to let go. She said, “You are as inevitable to me as a human skeleton is to biology” (my friends still double up with laughter when I tell them this story). Considering my thin body (I would prefer to call it slim), I wondered whether I literally was important to her in the same way (considering her inclination towards medical science). And so, as I said, I let go. Later I remember overhearing her talking about ‘an excellent chance gone begging’.

Then I started looking for other girls who may be talented. And then I thought I had found the ‘Miss Perfect’ for me. She was the best in athletics in the whole school and also in the district (I never believed the latter). Again she was not the most attractive girl around but ‘talented’ nevertheless. So one day I asked her for a date and guess what, she said yes ( I later found out that it was because no other boy asked her out as she was taller than all of them)! Being with her wasn’t much fun either. She kept talking about people like Carl Lewis and Sergei Boobka (Who the hell was he? Or she?). She was also a health freak. After looking at my thin (slim) body she put me on a strict fitness regime to improve my health. As a result my weight dropped further. The regime became even harder. And I became even thinner (Slimmer). But when on a Valentine’s Day she proposed I had to let go. She said she loved me and added that “I will do everything in my capacity to make you as strong as Arnold Schwarzenegger” (Friends react in the same way as in the last case). I later heard that she referred to me as ‘that skinny street dog’. But I could put up with that so long as I did not have to do 25 push-ups and deeps each.

So this time I told myself that I have to be more careful. I did not want to mess it up again. I again started looking for ‘talented’ girls. This time I was a bit choosier, so I let many of the girls pass. And then I settled on one. She was strikingly beautiful and extremely good at music. She could not only sing very well but also play a handful of instruments like flute, veena, tabla, harmonium and saxophone (I like the sound of that). So I found it surprising that she was still single (I was to learn the reason later on). So when I asked her out she agreed and I was overjoyed. And so our affair started. I was amazed to know that her whole family was made up of musicians and singers. Then when she told me that her family wanted a son in law (Wasn’t she being a little too fast?) who was good at music too, I was alarmed. But I thought I could do it. So, she forbid me from eating any sweets, from drinking soft drinks and obviously no oily stuff was allowed (how I missed butter chicken!). I kept my nerve. I went on through all the boring chats about classical music and even more boring music lessons she gave me on our dates ( Can you imagine that! Lessons on a date!). And obviously I wasn’t improving at all. So when she said while proposing that she will make me a great singer even if “I have to make you stand in cold water on freezing winter mornings” I had to say no thanks (For this one friends sympathize).

By now I somehow had a reputation of dumping girls so no one else accepted my proposals anymore. This way my affair(s) with talent was abruptly halted. But I have not given up. In fact if you are a talented girl reading this, will you go on a date with me?

हिन्दोस्तां! तू लाजवाब|

नीला सा आकाश
सुनहरी सी माटी
तुलसी की छाँव में
वो दिए की बाती
और आँगन में खिलते गुच्छेदार गुलाब
हिन्दोस्तां! तू लाजवाब

चार की सीट पर सात सवार
अक्टूबर के महीने में लू की बयार
जेनेरल के डिब्बे में सारे होशियार
करें एक ही विचार
कि साला! यहाँ का सिस्टम है ख़राब!
फिर भी ... हिन्दोस्तां! तू लाजवाब

सड़कों पे दौड़ती सरपट
नियमों को तोडती हर पल
भोंपू को बजाती ज़ोर
उसमे जोड़ो भीड़ का शोर
और इस अफरा तफरी में, ठाठ से घूमते मिनिस्टर साब!
हिन्दोस्तां! तू लाजवाब

जिधर जाओ उधर मेला
नया मॉल, पुरानी टपरी या समोसे का ठेला
सब ने सबकी टशन को झेला
कहते है सब जनसंख्या का खेला
नौ बच्चों के बाप, फिर भी क्या रुबाब?
हम्म! हिन्दोस्तां! तू है लाजवाब

है दूत कहलाता शांति का
है सम्मिलन तू भिन्न-भ्रान्ति का
फिर भी फोड़ता है एटम बम
दंगे भी नहीं होने देता कम
और क्या करें भ्रष्टाचार का जनाब?
बोलो भैय्या! हिन्दोस्तां लाजवाब

All The World's a Stage

People say and are free to say whatever they wish to (this should NOT be, in any which way, interpreted to be in favour of or against Ms Arundhati Roy and the recent unnecessary fiasco she has created). However, a saying becomes a quote, only when it finds rhyme and reason with proletariat. How they interpret it then is, again, their prerogative. One such quote is from the strong man of USA, Thomas Jefferson. He once said “Question with boldness even the existence of a God; because, if there be one, he must more approve of the homage of reason, than that of blind-folded fear”. Quite wise of him to say this; and an even wiser aspect for the hoi polloi, if they understand.

But, from where I look at it, this particular quote is flawed – in its fundamentals. I am not trying to challenge the greatness of Mr Jefferson; instead I am trying to draw home the point that, merely asking questions does not serve any purpose until it has a firm support of a strong urge to ‘seek answers’. Asking questions is good, but is of no use if the zeal for posing these questions again and again until a satisfactory answer is obtained, is absent. What use is a question, if there is no answer to it or even the answer is not chased by?

That is where the difference between fools and wise arise. Even a fool can ask questions, but the wise will seek answers. This leads to a further construal, that the proletariat, the common people, are nothing but herds of fools being driven from one pasture to other by a small group of shepherds. They are shown a path and a rosy picture is painted that they will find greener pastures down that path, and these flocks keep travelling on the calls of their shepherds, while these shepherds rejoice over the wool and milk they rear and sit on the pile of wealth. If any of these sheep has the audacity to turn around and ask the shepherd about why they are being driven continually, at first he is not answered or given the impression that his question is being thought about. If, during this process, he forgets about the question he had asked, shepherds have no issues in driving this sheep again. Else, if he tries to act smart and keeps insisting, he is picked out and thrown into a slaughter house.

Then why ask question?

What purpose does asking these questions serve? If eventually the answers are never given or are misrepresented.

Why try and act smart or show off that “I dared to ask the question”? Fool! Where is the answer? What is the answer?

Baffled?? OK! I apologise for this long banter and blah blah (…again…L) before coming to my exact point.

What has been running through my mind is, the poor state of common people who have no power to exercise any of their fundamental rights, are being exploited…time and again…in fact, almost every day…and still go about their routine lives…merrily. I fail to understand the reason to why they have become habituated to being fooled and why they enjoy it so much. It is not just the Indian people in context here. It is the common people world around. They have been fooled ever since the days of intellectuality finding its first roots in brains of human beings…ever since the people needed a leader to lead them while they were hunters…and to this day…a group of few is still fooling billions around the globe.

This is not any conspiracy theory which I am brewing up…nor will this article help the cause of the foolish…I guess they deserve the treatment they are being meted out…and no one can help. But it is interesting to note how this brilliant con…a magnum piece of perfectly scripted drama…is being performed…at a global stage. The words of Sir William Shakespeare have been given life “All the world’s a stage”.

The fiasco Wikileaks has created; the way it is being shunned by governments all over the world; ‘Red Code’ being issued for Julian Assange…even worse – a Swedish court issuing arrest warrant for him…all this while no action is being taken on the revelations of these leaks. Funny …isn’t it? Or is it how it is meant to be. Let some ruckus spread, pay no head…People will definitely forget. That’s how they are.

This is not just the first incident; many such incidents have been taking place throughout human history. Every theory has its corollary and contradictions. ‘Conspiracy Theories’ have been making rounds, especially in our beloved United States of America. They have been shunned and Questions remain unanswered. But what is interesting is how easily people have forgotten about them. They love to watch such documentaries on TV, let some people like Jesse Ventura make a living out of it…but in reality, when it comes to taking action and not just believing in them…they quietly subside into the warmth of their homes…never go out in the quest…never seek the answers.

Some of the commonly known questions from US History have been:

Was US successful in sending man on moon?
Why was Vietnam War raged for so many years?
What actually happened in 1993 WTC bombings?
What is “Clinton body count”?
Was 9/11 an insider job?
What was Watergate scandal?

Though some of these are widely debated questions till date, the consequence is – no definite answer. However, actions have been taken in some cases like the Watergate Scandal and impeachment of Bill Clinton (although on an altogether different issue).

Our country India too, is no stranger to such unanswered questions. It also has its share of unanswered questions. Some have been hidden in a most conniving fashion; some have been dealt with in the eyes of public but eventually left unanswered when the public forgot about it. India too has developed several interesting tools to obscure facts and keep the hoi polloi into darkness. The NCERT books, the RTI Act, the provision to appeal in a higher court against the judgement of a lower court, CBI, RAW and IB are a few examples of these tools. How and why I have arrived at such an inference will be explained in subsequent posts. Since, whatever happens in USA is given so much consideration and is fondly read and watched, I have thought of coming up with a series of posts dedicated to the unanswered questions of Indian History and Politics. Here is a list of questions to which, I feel, answers have not been arrived at, and nor will my attempt to answer them put a full stop; instead, it will just be a foray into these questions, a first step towards seeking answers.

Here’s the list:

Why was Netaji Subash Chandra Bose shunned from Congress? Was he living as the Gumnami Baba of Firozpur till 1985? Is he actually dead now?

What happened to Lal Bahadur Shastri in Tashkent on the night of 10th January 1966? How and Why did he die?

Indira Gandhi or Indira Khan? The politics behind keeping the lineage alive.

What caused the ‘Emergency’ of 1975 and What went on behind the scenes?

Who was Sanjay Gandhi and What caused his death?

What is the politics behind the Quota System and what was Mandal Commission?

What was Bofors Scandal and what is its status now?

What happened to the accused in “Fodder Scam” and what are the proceeding till date?

What happened to Ms J. Jaylalitha’s 10000 pairs of Sandals and what are the proceedings in the “TV Scam”?

How can a convicted murderer, who served term in jail and is still not acquitted like Shibu Soren, be appointed as Chief Minister of a state?

Why and how have influential leaders of Congress party like Mohan Kumaramangalam, Sanjay Gandhi, Rajesh Pilot, Madhav Rao Scindia, Sunil Dutt, YS Rajshekhar Reddy all died in accidents of one form or the other? How did Morarji Desai escape one such accident?

I understand you all can ‘google’ all these questions and get your answers, but I will try and present my answers with my perspectives and opinions, and would definitely love to hear your take on them. After all, we the people, the mob have a habit of forgetting and need to be reminded of the treatment that has been meted out to us.

To, end this perplexing saga, I would like to quote the words of Carl Sandburg which describe the situate of the common people quite aptly:

I AM the people--the mob--the crowd--the mass.
Do you know that all the great work of the world is
done through me?
I am the workingman, the inventor, the maker of the
world's food and clothes.
I am the audience that witnesses history. The Napoleons
come from me and the Lincolns. They die. And
then I send forth more Napoleons and Lincolns.
I am the seed ground. I am a prairie that will stand
for much plowing. Terrible storms pass over me.
I forget. The best of me is sucked out and wasted.
I forget. Everything but Death comes to me and
makes me work and give up what I have. And I
forget.
Sometimes I growl, shake myself and spatter a few red
drops for history to remember. Then--I forget.
When I, the People, learn to remember, when I, the
People, use the lessons of yesterday and no longer
forget who robbed me last year, who played me for
a fool--then there will be no speaker in all the world
say the name: "The People," with any fleck of a
sneer in his voice or any far-off smile of derision.
The mob--the crowd--the mass--will arrive then.




Let me know what you think, by posting your comments J

Again...

Oh My God! I am back! Again? Ya! Sort of! Or maybe not! Don’t know! This winter has lasted too long, and whenever I try… to sprout my head, out of my shitty hole…to come out of hibernation and walk my strides…there comes a huge gust of chilly, exasperating wind, which forces me to grab my tail between my legs and get back into that hole again…back to my sleep…away from the world which is fighting this blood freezing gust ...and doing what they have to do…doing what it takes to feel alive. Whilst me? Me is happily snoring… blowing the winds out of my snout…lost in the merriness of the wonderland of my dreams …Sometimes I do have nightmares …quite frightening ones…but only sometimes…and I make sure to let them whizz off… to be profoundly lost into my wonderland…again!

I guess, I am not the only one who does so…I guess, I am not the only one dreaming…I guess, I am not the only one who is in that shitty hole…I guess, there are only a few, out there, walking in this blizzard…I guess, only a few keep walking.

I have always wondered…and probably will be left bewildered… about what it takes to keep walking. How come those who do it, are able to do it? What do they have for breakfast? Or what do they not have for breakfast? Where they muster the courage to walk? How are they able to fight this winter? What is the force that drives them? Can that force be bestowed onto us? Or is it something they are born with? Did their mothers have some extra dose of some secret serums that made them what they are? Where did these mothers get the secret recipe from? I do not believe that the winter made them strong…I am experiencing the same winter, and I do not even think of daring to fight it. It has to be some drive within them…some need, some want…which makes them stand out and walk…and I wonder again…When will I have that need? When will I have that desire? Or…Is it that they have the capability to convert some simple desires into something extraordinary for themselves that makes them larger than life? How do they do it then? What the heck is it it? Will anyone be ever able to give this ‘it’ a name? When will we, the non-Einstein, daft and dippy breed of men, be ever able to understand the mettle and endeavour it takes to stand up and fight? I mean is it really possible to teach those qualities? If it was so, we have been taught…We have read…heck! We have even had experiences about those great men and their great deeds…still…we stay lost…Lost in the crowd of a gazillion similar faces…Lost, becoming just another ordinary face…and I guess, here lies a little explanation of all the queries my brain keeps bombarding me with…I guess, the reason why only a few are great, remembered and followed, is because not everyone can be great…not everyone can achieve what they have achieved.

But again…this explanation is a mere consolation for losers…for people like me who have never even dared to take the first step…to break their shells and feel the brunt…face on. I wish to do all this… There is something within me which keeps telling me, that I do not belong here…in this hole. There’s a voice within me that points at me and says that I have taken a lot of wrong steps, in the wrong direction…I am clueless about my next step, once again, as I have quite often been..What is inhibiting me to turn around and start…I do not know! My playground is that snow laden field with wind ripping my skin off, its gust deafening me and the snow blinding me. …I wish to break out…I wish to stand tall…I want to act…I want to walk…


I ask (to whom I do not know) the same question…which Bob Dylan asked in 1963…

How many roads must a man walk down,
Before they call him a man?
.
.
.

The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind
The answer is blowing in the wind

Abstract

Abstract – A funny word, I would say.

Sitting here, staring the immense white screen of my laptop, brightened even more because of the absence of the black letters on the white background of the word processor software, I ponder. I have ‘abstract’ thoughts. I have a broad-spectrum of ideas, ideas of here and beyond, ideas that do not pertain to the soil and I am not fixated to the real. I have to write an ‘abstract’ of my thesis on ‘Financial Crisis: Beyond the 1929-2008 comparison’. And as far as I can comment on that piece of meticulously written, overwhelmingly ingenious, brilliantly offered piece of crap is – Its Abstract. Well, if you did not get me, don’t blame me. This is one of my ingenious capabilities – churning out solid gold shit and presenting them as an ‘Abstract’ Art. Something that does not depict a scenario in veracity, but caters to daft and dippy, who wish to project themselves as the ingenious elite of the society, by presenting to them patterns and qualitative figures which can be interpreted as per the whims and fantasies of the meticulous mind. Still don’t get me? J Well...That’s my Abstract Art for you. And all this, most of the times, seems to ‘abstract’ the ‘me’ from me. It seems to draw me out of the person I should be, and takes me into the beautiful wilderness of my imagination.

The abstract world, with its abstract beauty and love, abstracting you out of your worries, merely by displaying the abstract of its whorls, seems an abstract idea at prima facie, but if you get even a glimpse of what I am trying to convey it will be of a great help for me to continue further.

Well, all I wish for you to do is...Write an ‘Abstract’ of whatever you could interpret from the meaningless natter I just did. You are also welcome to say that you did not get anything, but it’s an earnest request to whosoever bothers to go through this unbearable torture and reach till here...to please leave a comment. Thanks a lot for your help. J I will be obliged.

The Constant Itch!

There’s been a constant itch…and it is kind of funny…as normally to get rid of an itch you would scratch…Scratch to get a relief…And I know I am on the verge of making it sound gross…but the itch would trouble you to make you do something about it…But, not me…and that’s why I called it funny…The itch has been there…it bothers me…but I do not scratch…I do not fancy the annoyance…but I am also not doing anything about it…Why? Now that is a difficult question to answer…Are my hands engaged elsewhere? (Don’t you all get ideas now!) No… Am I very busy with my studies? Not quite so…Am I busy with the course work? Not exactly…Am I working elsewhere? No…Then why are my hands not scratching the itch? Hmm!! Difficult to answer…and left with no excuses…Hence…a regular feature of most of my actions now…An apology!!

I apologise for being such a bum, and not responding to the itch of writing…I apologise for absconding and abandoning this place…and I would like to stop here…without any promises of being regular…or following frequently, as I have done enough of that …and failed miserably…always.

Now… since that’s that…here’s what I had to say…I was in India…for almost 2 weeks…And it was wonderful!

I had never thought… that the constant, deafening and the previously perceived annoying honking of the horns of vehicles would amaze me…so much. I had never imagined the hot and humid weather, with temperatures soaring above 40 degrees Celsius…to be so pleasant. To see the sun in its full glory would be so refreshing. I had never thought of requirement of people in swarms on roads, in the buses, in the train station, in the trains, in the malls, in the cinema halls and everywhere…to be such bliss. The freedom to piss on the roads is at times a freedom far great in substance, than the freedom of speech. The puff of a Classic Milds and the sip of Royal Stag, are far more fulfilling than Marlboro and JD. The never ending traffic jams and the ever so blabbering rickshaw drivers are so enchanting. Overtaking while driving and cutting lanes makes driving so much more a thrill and fun. And parking anywhere on the road is a fundamental right everyone should have. Frequent or even once in a while power cuts are so god damn important. Fans and pressure cookers are not actually archaic. 256Kbps is the max speed and it is still amazing. Even holding hands of your loved one in the public, has to be done very carefully, which kind of adds to romance…and not that you can make out wherever you wish, you actually have to get a room. Getting a maid to do you dishes and cleaning doesn’t make you a millionaire. You are still alive, even though your hands do not feel the chill. The smell of the wet soil from the first drops of rain is invigorating. The smell from your mom’s kitchen makes you go crazy, literally. The front yard is larger than the backyard, and it displays in its full glory the sweat of your mother, that has soaked the gardens. A short nap in your bed is like a sound sleep of 12 hours. Your home is your home. Nothing makes me miss a foreign land. Nothing can beat India.

India! You’re truly amazing…and the people make you much more amazing…you will always give me that constant itch of coming back…again…and again!

India Amzaing

(P.S. – Much more to come…hopefully very soon…)

All Izz Well!!

All Izz Well!!

I am not a film critique and this is not ‘just another’ review of the incredible piece of art - 3 Idiots. In fact this is not even an attempt to review the marvel. This is like kneeling down, bowing and presenting your head to the movie. Sajdah (if you know the exact meaning of the word) is what I am going to do.

I mean... How many times has it happened that... You have come out of movie and were so absolutely mesmerised by the experience that you started missing it from the very moment the screen went blank, and there was a streak of smile that simply refused to vanish for hours and hours at stretch? You were enchanting the dialogues almost after every single sentence you spoke? You did not realise that how did time fly and that too, a stretch of almost 3 hours? You were absolutely fixated on the screen, no distractions, no chit chat, no changing of positions...total concentration, and yet you literally rolled on the floor laughing? You absolutely hated the intermission and wished it should not have been there?

I may be going over the board for some people, but I don’t give a damn to them. I have fallen in love with this movie...or rather a piece of art. Yes...it is a piece of art, as you love some movies for their direction, some for the story, some for the visual effects, some for sheer acting of the actors, some for the message they conveyed ...but this one...you just cannot classify or categorize into just one of these. The story was absolutely brilliant. Acting – superb. Visual appeal – awesome. Comedy – nerve bursting-ly stupendous (This was for the first time ever in my life that I was holding on to the armrest of my seat and jumping on it while laughing...never ever have laughed so much). Message – clearly out there.

I have never yearned to go for repeating a movie as much I am yearning for this one. It was the last show of the day, so could not enter into another show immediately. I will do it certainly the next time I go to the theatres. The movie made me relive my college days, over and over again. It was perfect. The messages have been sent out so subtly and yet they resonate so powerfully within you. ‘Friendship is the real money you earn’. ‘Let the fears in your heart not surmount you, convince it believe that All Izz Well’. ‘Do what you like, what you really want to do and then...do it with passion’. We all know this. This is was nothing new. But, the mannerism it was let out – awesome.

When we talk of Bollywood, plenty of movies have blown up my mind and heart earlier. Omkara gave me a headache I pleasured. Rang De Basanti made me think and awe. Ek Chalis Ki Last Local was a surprise. Dev D was stupendous in its presentation. Sholay is cult. DDLJ sucked for me...too melodramatic. Dil to Pagal Hai was confusing and stupid. Kuchh Kuchh Hota Hai was over the board. Fanaa made me think, somewhat. Lagaan gave me a sense of unity. Dil Chahta Hai defined friendship. Rehna Hai Tere Dil Me defined Love. But, 3 Idiot, is simply put – perfect.

Yes, yes...go ahead...call me biased and prejudiced...but I will not refrain from me calling myself an ardent Amir Khan fanatic...That penchant for perfectionism...That splendid resolve of delivering one marvel a year and leaving the responsibility of blowing the trumpet of your calibre and magnificence to your performance. That is called ‘A True Actor’. Go Amir. Not to forget the brilliance of support provided by Bomman Irani, R Madhavan, Sharman Joshi and Kareena Kapoor ...in that order.

Rajkumar Hirani and Vidhu Vinod Chopra, I will again kneel and bow down to you for this astounding piece of art. How come do you have the ability to deliver the Munna Bhai Series and 3 Idiots back to back? And how could you find humour in the grimmest of situations? The eczema and roti scene. The hospitalisation of Raju Rastogi. The birth of the baby. These are just to name a few. I feel each and every scene was so carefully looked into and worked upon, that it made me relive, my past right in front of my eyes.

Khumaari...Hangover...as it is better known, has a new found meaning for me now. I never knew that celluloid can give you so much of a high. I am drunk, in the sheer entertainment I experienced tonight. A gazillion thanks to every single person associated with this jewel. You yourselves have raised the bars to an all together different realm. Please remember to live up to your own standards. Thanks once again.