Sunday, October 22, 2006
Starting of a journey -3
‘What’s this I hear. You are going on giving comments about me?’
The accusation startled me so much that I was fully out of my gears. What’s she talking about? For a couple of seconds I stood there like a statue. Actually cannot be described as standing. I was about to sit on the chair and was in a comic like stance half standing half sitting, looking at her.
But that’s only for few seconds. Soon I tried to get back my poise. Sat down making maximum amount of noise pulling the chair. In the present situation just could not think anything and tried to bring my senses in gear and purposefully looked around as if looking for some one?
My mind started its whirlwind tour; what’s she talking about? When did I talk about her? To whom? I hardly know her. This is only our second meeting. Well actually that’s not true. It’s a fact that our first meeting was a great one. We did hit like anything. We have lot in common. Her passion for literature supersedes mine in leaps and bounds. I am only master of Bengali literature. But she is master of Bengali and English. I have only a couple of poems of Keats, Wordsorth to recite about. But She is doing her honors in English literature.
I did know lot about her and would not have mind commenting, but the truth is; my present state of mind and occupation never gives me any time to talk with anyone about a girl whom, I, well what should I say? Like? Admire? God knows. It’s a fact which I do not like to admit to myself that during last fortnight or so, in flints of moments, when I felt despair, lonesome, thinking about her fresh bubbly face did come to mind bringing some secret joy.
But those were moments of weaknesses. I really did not think about her seriously.
But discussing her with anybody? No way! And ultimately came to the conclusion that she is only trying to pull my legs, which I did not consider a very good conducive thing to do as a starter for lunch.
Observations completed, I brought back my eyes on the other lady sitting there, the originator of this program, my sister-in-law. She eyed me with all the innocence one can expect from an angel. This pretty face is really becoming troublesome for me. Finding no other option, ultimately I eyed Geeta sternly, well actually not so sternly, rather tried to be very casual.
‘What are the comments am I making?’
‘Me being a nice girl’ came the immediate reply.
I could not keep my seriousness any more. A trace of smile came out on my face betraying my resolve.
‘Do you have any doubt?’
‘Off course not.’
‘Then what is the complaint about?’
“Well just liked to get the confirmation from you directly.’ Her bright black eyes are directly on me with all the brightness one can see in a clear autumn sky.
All three of us burst out in laughter. Well not a bad starter for the luncheon meeting.
Suddenly I realized it’s ages since I had a hearty laugh. Life has become so serious now a days that a stern serious mask is set permanently on my face. The world around us is so gray with all the injustices, sufferings, struggle that rarely there is anything to laugh about. How one can laugh when every morning one learns of death of some of his friends, either in a police encounter or in a class war. The whole city of Calcutta and its surroundings areas are in a state of panic. Nobody really knows what is happening.
‘Hey. Hey, Where are you?’
‘Dipu.’
The calls from two voices brought me back to the present.
I just shook my head with a limp smile as if to through away some bad dreams.
‘What are we eating today?’
‘Do you have choice. Same bread, butter and omelets.’
Actually nobody comes here for the food they offer; otherwise this place would have been shut down long back.
I looked around again. The high ceiling. The heritage class ceiling fans moaning, showing their age with every rotation they make. The noise. There is something special about the noise. The hall is always humming with noise. But there is something about this noise, which cannot be described; one has to experience it to feel. The total hum noise creates a kind of privacy. So much noise that you cannot hear anything the young couple whispering sitting on the next table. It gives some sort of privacy. Nobody can eavesdrop on others. That makes everyone engrossed in their own world oblivious to the happenings around
The walls are plastered with posters. ‘Long Live Mao Tse Tung’ , ‘Cheener Chairman amader Chairman – China’s Chairman is our Chairman. ’, ‘Bhulte Pari Baper naam, Bhulbo nako Vietnam – We can forget our father’s name but we can not forget Vietnam.’ ‘ Naxalbari Lal Selam’ so on and so on. There are names of Shaheeds – the boys who lost their lives in the struggle. A deep breadth came out from my heart.
I think we have chosen a wrong place; I thought and felt sorry for the ladies sitting around.
Sister-in-law took the lead. Actually both of them should be a couple of years younger to me but being my elder brother’s wife made her senior to me and she did her best to show off her seniority. Geeta, I presume a born commander. Hence my role became a secondary one.
They were looking at me with a kind of sympathy and the moment I looked back at them they started discussing about the menu, calling the waiter.
I took the opportunity to scrutinize Geeta. She is looking different today. In place of scarlet red she was wearing on our first meeting, today it is a sky-blue saree. Blue is my favourite colour. Specially sky-blue is a symbol for vastness. It has some pleasing, soothing effect. I did not fail to notice she is great in her attire. There is nothing missing, everything is matched in colour and size; eardrops, blouse, bangles even the bindi on her forehead, everything is perfectly matched.
I recollected the song, ‘Neelambaree saree pore neel jamunay ke jai ke jai.- Who is this lady going to blue Yamuna wearing a blue colour saree?’ Looks like the song is meant for her only.
How much time she must have spent preparing for this attire. Actually here I have some serious problem. I simply cannot understand how a person can spend so much time for his/her attire. But that is my problem. And today I must agree, because of her meticulous dressing she has become an object of desire, object of love, object of admiration. I just tried to put her in a drab so-called intellectual dress. Just can’t think of it.
Back to my observation of …what should I call her? Saraswati – no, Lakshmi un, hun, Urvashi? I think presently I should be satisfied with Urvashi, fully geared up. No No Today I think I should compare her with Menaka, at her best to distract the ‘Dhyan – meditation’ of Shiva.
Well, I was thinking about Menaka and forgot about the surroundings. Was I at Agra on the bank of Yamuna looking at the blue saree clad Menaka trying to disturb my dhyan? Was it a full moon night? She was looking even more irresistible under the soft moonlight. The atmosphere being a fairy one, the Tajmahal as the background screen, the soft sounds of waves on yamuna rendering the background music, all under a blanket of celestial white soft moonlight.
‘Hey. You have come for lunch or want to eat me?’ Geeta’s question brought me back to the present.
I don’t know what is happening to me. I was looking at her forgetting everything. I am making myself a fool in front of her.
‘You are looking very pretty on this saree.’ Sheepishly I blurted out.
There ensued a pin drop silence. Both the ladies were stunned to silence, their eyes on me. It seemed like ages.
Oh God, what did I do? I simply did not know what to do next. But I did not need to do anything. Lots of things happened simultaneously.
Exchange of glances between the ladies, one or two glances towards me, my increasing nervousness, as if the world is moving in a very slow motion.
‘Well, nice to know you appreciate the nice things in life. How pity, you never noticed me during last one month.’ My sister-in-law tried to break the silence.
Things improved, smiles appeared on their faces.
‘Well actually I am flattered that you liked my saree.’ Geeta remarked keeping her eyes steady on me, a mischievous smile playing on her face, hands on her saree, adjusting here and there, as if to present the saree in a better way.
At the same time waiter arrived with the dishes thus saving me.
With lots of gusto we attacked the dishes. The lunch moved on satisfactorily with little conversation in between.
‘You must be a regular here?’
‘Used to be.’
‘Why don’t you narrate some interesting incident of your time’?
‘It is always interesting here.’
‘I know, but every generation has something different ‘
‘Well don’t force me out of your generation. I must be only a couple of years elder to you.’
‘Do you think so? When did you last look at a mirror?’
‘Do I look old?’
‘Old is not the word. You look different. How do I put it, SPENT. As if the vitality of your life has gone away. Why are you so sad?’
‘Do I look sad?’
‘Not only sad. Your face has some remoteness in it. The eyes are tired.’
‘Eyes are tired because it has seen too much.’
Again a big pause. Geeta stopped eating looking at me. So am I.
‘Do you really think that you are the only person who has problems?’
‘No, I know everyone has problem. But my problem is that everyone else is not bothered about the problem. My problem is that in this kind of society, where there is so much injustice, how one can keep quite? How one can wish away the reality.’
‘Nobody is wishing away the reality. But life goes on.’
‘Do you call this life?’
‘Then what?’
‘You live in a society where you cannot even attend college daily due to n nos. of Bandh. You don’t know after studying when are you going to get a job, if you get one at all. The mill workers are oppressed everyday. More than 80% industries are either closed because of lock out or strike. Everyday there is gunfight on the streets. Half of the peasant population is waging a war for equal right. More than 90% of the youths are unemployed. There is no social order. Do you really call this a life?’
The conversation went away in an unexpected direction.
‘You know Dipu, Geeta is very good singer. She is expert in Nazrul Geeti (songs composed by poet Nazrul Islam), Sister-in-law tried to divert the conversation.
‘Well, nice.’
‘Does that really matters to him. Nazrul geets are for romantic people, not revolutionaries like him.’
I looked at her and slowly recited
‘Maha Bidrohi rano klanto
Ami shei din habo shanto
jabe utpiriter krandanarol
akashe batashe dhawnibe na
attacharir kharga kripan
bhim ranabhume ranibe na,
Maha Bidrohi rano klanto
Ami shei din habo shanto
‘I, the great revolutionary
will stop only on the day,
when the sky will stop reverberating
with the wails of the suppressed,
when the sword of the tyrant
will no more be drawn out in the battlefield,
I, the great revolutionary,
tired of battles,
will stop only on that day’
Geeta stopped eating and sang,
‘Ami jar nupurer chhando
Benukar Sur,
Ke, shei sundara ke.
Ami jar bilasa jamuna
Biraha bidhur
Ke shei sundara ke
‘For whom
I am the music of Payal,
Tune of the flute
Who is that handsome
For whom
I am the accompaniment of enjoyment
Sufferer of desertion
Who is that handsome?’
Both of us looked at each other.
I felt this is the difference between us. Poet Kazi Nazrul has written inflammatory poems, inspiring youths during the freedom struggle and continues to inspire the youths of this generation. But there is also writer in him who wrote beautiful romantic songs. For an outsider it will be very difficult to believe it is the same revolutionary poet who has written such romantic songs.
‘I believe this is the difference between us. I see Nazrul as a revolutionary, you look him as a romantic poet.’ I said.
‘No, the difference is not between us, it is there in your character. You behave as a big revolutionary, bereft of any emotional feeling. But like Nazrul that is your outer mask. Scratch it and you will find a lovely romantic soul crying for affection, love. And the worst part is that you are such a fat head that you even deny to acknowledge it’ Asserted Geeta with great conviction in a simple, slow but strong voice.
We both kept looking at each other.
The accusation startled me so much that I was fully out of my gears. What’s she talking about? For a couple of seconds I stood there like a statue. Actually cannot be described as standing. I was about to sit on the chair and was in a comic like stance half standing half sitting, looking at her.
But that’s only for few seconds. Soon I tried to get back my poise. Sat down making maximum amount of noise pulling the chair. In the present situation just could not think anything and tried to bring my senses in gear and purposefully looked around as if looking for some one?
My mind started its whirlwind tour; what’s she talking about? When did I talk about her? To whom? I hardly know her. This is only our second meeting. Well actually that’s not true. It’s a fact that our first meeting was a great one. We did hit like anything. We have lot in common. Her passion for literature supersedes mine in leaps and bounds. I am only master of Bengali literature. But she is master of Bengali and English. I have only a couple of poems of Keats, Wordsorth to recite about. But She is doing her honors in English literature.
I did know lot about her and would not have mind commenting, but the truth is; my present state of mind and occupation never gives me any time to talk with anyone about a girl whom, I, well what should I say? Like? Admire? God knows. It’s a fact which I do not like to admit to myself that during last fortnight or so, in flints of moments, when I felt despair, lonesome, thinking about her fresh bubbly face did come to mind bringing some secret joy.
But those were moments of weaknesses. I really did not think about her seriously.
But discussing her with anybody? No way! And ultimately came to the conclusion that she is only trying to pull my legs, which I did not consider a very good conducive thing to do as a starter for lunch.
Observations completed, I brought back my eyes on the other lady sitting there, the originator of this program, my sister-in-law. She eyed me with all the innocence one can expect from an angel. This pretty face is really becoming troublesome for me. Finding no other option, ultimately I eyed Geeta sternly, well actually not so sternly, rather tried to be very casual.
‘What are the comments am I making?’
‘Me being a nice girl’ came the immediate reply.
I could not keep my seriousness any more. A trace of smile came out on my face betraying my resolve.
‘Do you have any doubt?’
‘Off course not.’
‘Then what is the complaint about?’
“Well just liked to get the confirmation from you directly.’ Her bright black eyes are directly on me with all the brightness one can see in a clear autumn sky.
All three of us burst out in laughter. Well not a bad starter for the luncheon meeting.
Suddenly I realized it’s ages since I had a hearty laugh. Life has become so serious now a days that a stern serious mask is set permanently on my face. The world around us is so gray with all the injustices, sufferings, struggle that rarely there is anything to laugh about. How one can laugh when every morning one learns of death of some of his friends, either in a police encounter or in a class war. The whole city of Calcutta and its surroundings areas are in a state of panic. Nobody really knows what is happening.
‘Hey. Hey, Where are you?’
‘Dipu.’
The calls from two voices brought me back to the present.
I just shook my head with a limp smile as if to through away some bad dreams.
‘What are we eating today?’
‘Do you have choice. Same bread, butter and omelets.’
Actually nobody comes here for the food they offer; otherwise this place would have been shut down long back.
I looked around again. The high ceiling. The heritage class ceiling fans moaning, showing their age with every rotation they make. The noise. There is something special about the noise. The hall is always humming with noise. But there is something about this noise, which cannot be described; one has to experience it to feel. The total hum noise creates a kind of privacy. So much noise that you cannot hear anything the young couple whispering sitting on the next table. It gives some sort of privacy. Nobody can eavesdrop on others. That makes everyone engrossed in their own world oblivious to the happenings around
The walls are plastered with posters. ‘Long Live Mao Tse Tung’ , ‘Cheener Chairman amader Chairman – China’s Chairman is our Chairman. ’, ‘Bhulte Pari Baper naam, Bhulbo nako Vietnam – We can forget our father’s name but we can not forget Vietnam.’ ‘ Naxalbari Lal Selam’ so on and so on. There are names of Shaheeds – the boys who lost their lives in the struggle. A deep breadth came out from my heart.
I think we have chosen a wrong place; I thought and felt sorry for the ladies sitting around.
Sister-in-law took the lead. Actually both of them should be a couple of years younger to me but being my elder brother’s wife made her senior to me and she did her best to show off her seniority. Geeta, I presume a born commander. Hence my role became a secondary one.
They were looking at me with a kind of sympathy and the moment I looked back at them they started discussing about the menu, calling the waiter.
I took the opportunity to scrutinize Geeta. She is looking different today. In place of scarlet red she was wearing on our first meeting, today it is a sky-blue saree. Blue is my favourite colour. Specially sky-blue is a symbol for vastness. It has some pleasing, soothing effect. I did not fail to notice she is great in her attire. There is nothing missing, everything is matched in colour and size; eardrops, blouse, bangles even the bindi on her forehead, everything is perfectly matched.
I recollected the song, ‘Neelambaree saree pore neel jamunay ke jai ke jai.- Who is this lady going to blue Yamuna wearing a blue colour saree?’ Looks like the song is meant for her only.
How much time she must have spent preparing for this attire. Actually here I have some serious problem. I simply cannot understand how a person can spend so much time for his/her attire. But that is my problem. And today I must agree, because of her meticulous dressing she has become an object of desire, object of love, object of admiration. I just tried to put her in a drab so-called intellectual dress. Just can’t think of it.
Back to my observation of …what should I call her? Saraswati – no, Lakshmi un, hun, Urvashi? I think presently I should be satisfied with Urvashi, fully geared up. No No Today I think I should compare her with Menaka, at her best to distract the ‘Dhyan – meditation’ of Shiva.
Well, I was thinking about Menaka and forgot about the surroundings. Was I at Agra on the bank of Yamuna looking at the blue saree clad Menaka trying to disturb my dhyan? Was it a full moon night? She was looking even more irresistible under the soft moonlight. The atmosphere being a fairy one, the Tajmahal as the background screen, the soft sounds of waves on yamuna rendering the background music, all under a blanket of celestial white soft moonlight.
‘Hey. You have come for lunch or want to eat me?’ Geeta’s question brought me back to the present.
I don’t know what is happening to me. I was looking at her forgetting everything. I am making myself a fool in front of her.
‘You are looking very pretty on this saree.’ Sheepishly I blurted out.
There ensued a pin drop silence. Both the ladies were stunned to silence, their eyes on me. It seemed like ages.
Oh God, what did I do? I simply did not know what to do next. But I did not need to do anything. Lots of things happened simultaneously.
Exchange of glances between the ladies, one or two glances towards me, my increasing nervousness, as if the world is moving in a very slow motion.
‘Well, nice to know you appreciate the nice things in life. How pity, you never noticed me during last one month.’ My sister-in-law tried to break the silence.
Things improved, smiles appeared on their faces.
‘Well actually I am flattered that you liked my saree.’ Geeta remarked keeping her eyes steady on me, a mischievous smile playing on her face, hands on her saree, adjusting here and there, as if to present the saree in a better way.
At the same time waiter arrived with the dishes thus saving me.
With lots of gusto we attacked the dishes. The lunch moved on satisfactorily with little conversation in between.
‘You must be a regular here?’
‘Used to be.’
‘Why don’t you narrate some interesting incident of your time’?
‘It is always interesting here.’
‘I know, but every generation has something different ‘
‘Well don’t force me out of your generation. I must be only a couple of years elder to you.’
‘Do you think so? When did you last look at a mirror?’
‘Do I look old?’
‘Old is not the word. You look different. How do I put it, SPENT. As if the vitality of your life has gone away. Why are you so sad?’
‘Do I look sad?’
‘Not only sad. Your face has some remoteness in it. The eyes are tired.’
‘Eyes are tired because it has seen too much.’
Again a big pause. Geeta stopped eating looking at me. So am I.
‘Do you really think that you are the only person who has problems?’
‘No, I know everyone has problem. But my problem is that everyone else is not bothered about the problem. My problem is that in this kind of society, where there is so much injustice, how one can keep quite? How one can wish away the reality.’
‘Nobody is wishing away the reality. But life goes on.’
‘Do you call this life?’
‘Then what?’
‘You live in a society where you cannot even attend college daily due to n nos. of Bandh. You don’t know after studying when are you going to get a job, if you get one at all. The mill workers are oppressed everyday. More than 80% industries are either closed because of lock out or strike. Everyday there is gunfight on the streets. Half of the peasant population is waging a war for equal right. More than 90% of the youths are unemployed. There is no social order. Do you really call this a life?’
The conversation went away in an unexpected direction.
‘You know Dipu, Geeta is very good singer. She is expert in Nazrul Geeti (songs composed by poet Nazrul Islam), Sister-in-law tried to divert the conversation.
‘Well, nice.’
‘Does that really matters to him. Nazrul geets are for romantic people, not revolutionaries like him.’
I looked at her and slowly recited
‘Maha Bidrohi rano klanto
Ami shei din habo shanto
jabe utpiriter krandanarol
akashe batashe dhawnibe na
attacharir kharga kripan
bhim ranabhume ranibe na,
Maha Bidrohi rano klanto
Ami shei din habo shanto
‘I, the great revolutionary
will stop only on the day,
when the sky will stop reverberating
with the wails of the suppressed,
when the sword of the tyrant
will no more be drawn out in the battlefield,
I, the great revolutionary,
tired of battles,
will stop only on that day’
Geeta stopped eating and sang,
‘Ami jar nupurer chhando
Benukar Sur,
Ke, shei sundara ke.
Ami jar bilasa jamuna
Biraha bidhur
Ke shei sundara ke
‘For whom
I am the music of Payal,
Tune of the flute
Who is that handsome
For whom
I am the accompaniment of enjoyment
Sufferer of desertion
Who is that handsome?’
Both of us looked at each other.
I felt this is the difference between us. Poet Kazi Nazrul has written inflammatory poems, inspiring youths during the freedom struggle and continues to inspire the youths of this generation. But there is also writer in him who wrote beautiful romantic songs. For an outsider it will be very difficult to believe it is the same revolutionary poet who has written such romantic songs.
‘I believe this is the difference between us. I see Nazrul as a revolutionary, you look him as a romantic poet.’ I said.
‘No, the difference is not between us, it is there in your character. You behave as a big revolutionary, bereft of any emotional feeling. But like Nazrul that is your outer mask. Scratch it and you will find a lovely romantic soul crying for affection, love. And the worst part is that you are such a fat head that you even deny to acknowledge it’ Asserted Geeta with great conviction in a simple, slow but strong voice.
We both kept looking at each other.
Friday, October 20, 2006
Starting of a journey part 2
‘Can I come in?’
I have just returned from the Bathroom. Our old fashioned house has only one bathroom at the far corner of the house, hid behind a few betel nut trees. Fortunately by the time I get up, which is never before 9 a.m., most the inmates have either left the house or completed their morning activities. Hence I was a little surprised with the female voice.
This is my sister-in-law. What is she doing here? I looked up the wall clock. It is 9-35. By now she was supposed to be in an avatar pose trying to keep herself on her feet in a madly crowded local train. Anybody has any doubt what is an avatar pose. Well let me explain, if you are a male you are in a ‘Kartika Avatar’ (Murugan for Tamilians) neatly dressed smelling the ponds dreamflower before you try to enter a crowded local train. Once inside, you are ‘Sri Chaitanya Mahaprabhu’ with both your hands stretched up as if singing Hare Rama Hare Krishna. And by the time you come out you are either ‘Trailanga Maharaj’ or ‘Tandava Shiva’, bereft of your clothes, don’t believe? Well at least disheveled, smelling all of sweat, bullying each and everyone around you. About female commuters I think we can figure out some other deities.
‘Dipu, can I come in?’ – the voice is bit shrill now.
I got back to my senses. Looked around a bit of the room. O.k. almost presentable for a bachelor.
‘The door is wide open’ I remarked.
Here she enters. ‘What a lazy guy you are! Sleeping till noon! Do you recollect me? Tomar Boudi (your sister-in-law)’ without any hesitation she occupied the only chair of the room. ‘Boso, Boso’ – sit down, she commanded, her eyes roaming around the room. I did not have any other choice except sitting down on the corner of the bed facing her.
‘How come you are at home?’ I asked.
‘What to do? When you have the laziest person as your brother-in-law you do not have much choice. Do you know when we met last? By the time I leave for college, you are sleeping. And God knows when you come back. It is really difficult to meet you.’
I had nothing to answer. She is absolutely right. I do get up late and by the time I come back home, all the other occupants are in deep sleep. But the question is why she needs to meet me? Our lives are wide apart. My parents and siblings have already counted me negative in the balance sheet. No one really bothers. Only sign of my existence for them is the food left for me in my room at night, which I dutifully finish off, whatever time I may come home. In my father’s word; I have made this a place Serai Khana, just a place to eat and sleep.
‘Do say something. Why are keeping mum? It’s so creepy!’
I smiled.
‘That’s better. Glad to know that you can smile also.’
‘Well you have not lost your class for my smile. What’s the matter?’ I asked.
‘I need your help.’
Obviously, otherwise why one should bother! I thought. But openly only asked, ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Well, do you remember? We got married one month back.’
Things are becoming more confusing. Why her completing one month of marital bliss should be my concern? Suspicion really creeping in my mind.
“Don’t look like that. I have not come to ask you for a gift. I only wanted to give a treat.’
What the hell is happening? Am I awake? Or dreaming.
‘No you are not dreaming’. She pinched me. ‘You see’.
‘Ooh, Do you really want me to believe that you want to give me a treat to celebrate your completion of one month’s of marital bliss?’
‘No, exactly not so. Actually I also owe you a treat. You remember how you saved me last time by meeting Geeta on my behalf? You were so wonderful and helpful.’
‘And again you want me to believe that you have bunked college only to invite me?’
‘You nut. Don’t be so suspicious. You are only proving that you never bother to go to university, otherwise you would have known today is college bandh. Oh no. I have miscalculated, you are very much aware today is college Bandh. It is your party who has called the Bandh.’ She looked at me accusingly.
I nodded. Yes I know. But actually I did not remember. How does one remember? So many bandhs are happening now a day. Rather it will be much easier to keep track of the no. of days the colleges are open.
‘Don’t bother. It was a small help. And anyway Geeta is a nice girl. I enjoyed her company.’ Did my face show any blush? I was suddenly feeling the piercing eyes of the young lady all over me, as if probing me.
‘As a matter of fact she also considers you a nice boy. Only if...’ she trailed off.
“Only if?’ My eyebrows formed an arch.
‘Well only if you remove your hippy cut hair, bother to shave, wear decent clothes, powder a bit..’
She trailed off sensing the growing rigid ness of my jaws.
How silly. What does she think? All bourgeois thinking! A man should be known by his actions not by his attire. What does she know about the state of the country? How the poor are becoming poorer? How the political classes are exploiting the common men? How the unemployment is crippling the society. I started preparing for a long lecture.
‘Well, are you offended? You see, I understand. You do not believe in luxury of life. You want to follow your own ideals.’ She tried to assuage my bruised ego. ‘But you see, as you have your own views, so do we, however foolish they may look to you. And you know we girls are different.’
Well this is another matter. I have studied in all boys’ school; hence do not have much idea about girls. And it is quite natural that revolutionaries like us would be
misunderstood by many. We don’t live for ourselves. We are here to change the world.
‘Nothing doing. I have decided. Tomorrow 1 p.m. at coffee house. You are having Lunch with us. It’s an order’. By now she must have realized my weakness; not able to rude to her.
Lunch at coffee house would have been irresistible a couple of years back, when we used to spend whole day sitting there. But situation is different now. It seems tikitikis (plain cloth police) are always roaming there looking for us.
She has an uncanny sense of understanding or am I too transparent? As if she is reading my thought.
‘Don’t worry. Nobody will look at you if you are sitting with two pretty girls. No self-respected student leader will spend his valuable time gossiping with girls. On the contrary you will be able to find out if any of your cadres wasting their valuable time on the sly.’
Another thought struck me, ‘Who are the ‘us’?’
‘No, no, only you, me and Geeta.’
‘Why Geeta?’
‘That is my privilege whom I call or not. Anyway as I already explained to you, this treat is for the help you have provided by meeting Geeta and it is quite natural I shall invite her also.’
Well, Some how I did find the reasoning agreeable. I did not like to admit to myself, but I was thinking a lot about the afternoon we spent together. Sometime it seems like unbecoming of me, but I could not resist thinking about her lately. Once or twice I did think of asking Boudi (sister-in law) about her, but as described earlier, our timing never gave me the opportunity. And it would become too obvious if I would have changed my long habit just for the sake of enquiring about Geeta.
‘So be it.’
‘I knew I could count on you. Actually you are a nice guy. Only if...’ she trailed of.
I have just returned from the Bathroom. Our old fashioned house has only one bathroom at the far corner of the house, hid behind a few betel nut trees. Fortunately by the time I get up, which is never before 9 a.m., most the inmates have either left the house or completed their morning activities. Hence I was a little surprised with the female voice.
This is my sister-in-law. What is she doing here? I looked up the wall clock. It is 9-35. By now she was supposed to be in an avatar pose trying to keep herself on her feet in a madly crowded local train. Anybody has any doubt what is an avatar pose. Well let me explain, if you are a male you are in a ‘Kartika Avatar’ (Murugan for Tamilians) neatly dressed smelling the ponds dreamflower before you try to enter a crowded local train. Once inside, you are ‘Sri Chaitanya Mahaprabhu’ with both your hands stretched up as if singing Hare Rama Hare Krishna. And by the time you come out you are either ‘Trailanga Maharaj’ or ‘Tandava Shiva’, bereft of your clothes, don’t believe? Well at least disheveled, smelling all of sweat, bullying each and everyone around you. About female commuters I think we can figure out some other deities.
‘Dipu, can I come in?’ – the voice is bit shrill now.
I got back to my senses. Looked around a bit of the room. O.k. almost presentable for a bachelor.
‘The door is wide open’ I remarked.
Here she enters. ‘What a lazy guy you are! Sleeping till noon! Do you recollect me? Tomar Boudi (your sister-in-law)’ without any hesitation she occupied the only chair of the room. ‘Boso, Boso’ – sit down, she commanded, her eyes roaming around the room. I did not have any other choice except sitting down on the corner of the bed facing her.
‘How come you are at home?’ I asked.
‘What to do? When you have the laziest person as your brother-in-law you do not have much choice. Do you know when we met last? By the time I leave for college, you are sleeping. And God knows when you come back. It is really difficult to meet you.’
I had nothing to answer. She is absolutely right. I do get up late and by the time I come back home, all the other occupants are in deep sleep. But the question is why she needs to meet me? Our lives are wide apart. My parents and siblings have already counted me negative in the balance sheet. No one really bothers. Only sign of my existence for them is the food left for me in my room at night, which I dutifully finish off, whatever time I may come home. In my father’s word; I have made this a place Serai Khana, just a place to eat and sleep.
‘Do say something. Why are keeping mum? It’s so creepy!’
I smiled.
‘That’s better. Glad to know that you can smile also.’
‘Well you have not lost your class for my smile. What’s the matter?’ I asked.
‘I need your help.’
Obviously, otherwise why one should bother! I thought. But openly only asked, ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Well, do you remember? We got married one month back.’
Things are becoming more confusing. Why her completing one month of marital bliss should be my concern? Suspicion really creeping in my mind.
“Don’t look like that. I have not come to ask you for a gift. I only wanted to give a treat.’
What the hell is happening? Am I awake? Or dreaming.
‘No you are not dreaming’. She pinched me. ‘You see’.
‘Ooh, Do you really want me to believe that you want to give me a treat to celebrate your completion of one month’s of marital bliss?’
‘No, exactly not so. Actually I also owe you a treat. You remember how you saved me last time by meeting Geeta on my behalf? You were so wonderful and helpful.’
‘And again you want me to believe that you have bunked college only to invite me?’
‘You nut. Don’t be so suspicious. You are only proving that you never bother to go to university, otherwise you would have known today is college bandh. Oh no. I have miscalculated, you are very much aware today is college Bandh. It is your party who has called the Bandh.’ She looked at me accusingly.
I nodded. Yes I know. But actually I did not remember. How does one remember? So many bandhs are happening now a day. Rather it will be much easier to keep track of the no. of days the colleges are open.
‘Don’t bother. It was a small help. And anyway Geeta is a nice girl. I enjoyed her company.’ Did my face show any blush? I was suddenly feeling the piercing eyes of the young lady all over me, as if probing me.
‘As a matter of fact she also considers you a nice boy. Only if...’ she trailed off.
“Only if?’ My eyebrows formed an arch.
‘Well only if you remove your hippy cut hair, bother to shave, wear decent clothes, powder a bit..’
She trailed off sensing the growing rigid ness of my jaws.
How silly. What does she think? All bourgeois thinking! A man should be known by his actions not by his attire. What does she know about the state of the country? How the poor are becoming poorer? How the political classes are exploiting the common men? How the unemployment is crippling the society. I started preparing for a long lecture.
‘Well, are you offended? You see, I understand. You do not believe in luxury of life. You want to follow your own ideals.’ She tried to assuage my bruised ego. ‘But you see, as you have your own views, so do we, however foolish they may look to you. And you know we girls are different.’
Well this is another matter. I have studied in all boys’ school; hence do not have much idea about girls. And it is quite natural that revolutionaries like us would be
misunderstood by many. We don’t live for ourselves. We are here to change the world.
‘Nothing doing. I have decided. Tomorrow 1 p.m. at coffee house. You are having Lunch with us. It’s an order’. By now she must have realized my weakness; not able to rude to her.
Lunch at coffee house would have been irresistible a couple of years back, when we used to spend whole day sitting there. But situation is different now. It seems tikitikis (plain cloth police) are always roaming there looking for us.
She has an uncanny sense of understanding or am I too transparent? As if she is reading my thought.
‘Don’t worry. Nobody will look at you if you are sitting with two pretty girls. No self-respected student leader will spend his valuable time gossiping with girls. On the contrary you will be able to find out if any of your cadres wasting their valuable time on the sly.’
Another thought struck me, ‘Who are the ‘us’?’
‘No, no, only you, me and Geeta.’
‘Why Geeta?’
‘That is my privilege whom I call or not. Anyway as I already explained to you, this treat is for the help you have provided by meeting Geeta and it is quite natural I shall invite her also.’
Well, Some how I did find the reasoning agreeable. I did not like to admit to myself, but I was thinking a lot about the afternoon we spent together. Sometime it seems like unbecoming of me, but I could not resist thinking about her lately. Once or twice I did think of asking Boudi (sister-in law) about her, but as described earlier, our timing never gave me the opportunity. And it would become too obvious if I would have changed my long habit just for the sake of enquiring about Geeta.
‘So be it.’
‘I knew I could count on you. Actually you are a nice guy. Only if...’ she trailed of.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Starting of a journey 1
‘You can as well get lost’ - Geeta said, nostrils flaring, eyes glaring, index finger pointing directly at my nose.
Am I hallucinating? I felt like Goddess Kali is in front of me holding a sword to decimate me in pieces. Is it a sword, in her hand or a Trishul or may be some new kind of weapon? Is it Goddess Kali? Cannot be. Kali is supposed to be dark in color. I slowly tried to look up once more. No, this wheat complexioned lady cannot be Kali, may be Durga. But Durga is dasa-bhuja-dharini, ten handed one. But only one hand is visible to me, may be I am so much overwhelmed that I also became like Arjuna; so much concentrated in my action, I can see only one thing at a time. But Kali also should have a mundmala – the garland of human heads. I tried to look up again. No, only one small chain around the swan like neck.
Once looking up how can I miss out the glaring eyes? Big black eyes; are these black or brown? How does that matter? So beautiful to look at? Presently spewing lava as if to convert me to ashes. And is that the third eye in between the eyebrows or a mere bindi? In my present state of mind it looks like the third eye only. Does Durga have a third eye or it is only Shiva?
‘Kali or Durga?’ I tried to shake my head to get it cleared.
‘Why the hell are you shaking your head?’ thunder came almost knocking me out. I tried to recollect any wise advices given by my parents about the best course of action to be taken in this kind of situation. But the mind also followed suit of my lower limbs, looks like it also is frozen. Just controlled in time my impulsive urge of shaking the head again to defreeze it. Not bad! Mind is working; may be only in slow motion. But it does not give any reassurance, mind working slow is like a tape recorder moving in slow speed, you will feel a A.R.Rehman composed music as a K.L.Saigal song. Did anyone asked, what is a K.L.Saigal song? Oh not again? You see I am already in trouble, hence don’t confuse me with interrupting questions.
Anyway where was I? Ya, in front of Kali, no no not Kali, Durga. No this is no good. Whether Kali or Durga, I am behaving like a sacrificial lamb in front of her, tongue tied, eyes roaming here and there except at her eyes, legs feeling like made of stone. No this is no good. I might be lamb only but it is no good trembling like a sacrificial one, don’t mind being executed but let me die at least with dignity.
‘What’s the matter, did you loose all of your senses?’
‘Look young lady, I am here only to give you a message.’
Whose voice is this one? I was bewildered. Sounded like mine only. How come? Is it really mine? Once again my legs started trembling. A sharp pain of fear traveled through my spinal cord. I waited for the thunder and blows. Nothing came out for a few seconds, are they few seconds? For me it looked like millennium.
‘By the way who are you?’
Not bad. I looked up. The face is still red in anger. But there is a trace of softness, like the red sun but not of full noon but of quiet evening.
Before I tell my name let me narrate the story from the beginning.
To make a long story short let me go back to this morning. I was getting ready to go out for college, from where I am supposed to go to Book fair at Maidan. My newly married sister-in-law came hurriedly to my room.
‘Dipu, are you going to kolkata?’
I looked at her suspiciously, to be frank; there is no reason for suspicion. I hardly know her. They have just come back from their honeymoon. Married my elder brother just a fortnight back. Don’t look for any story; it is a simple arranged marriage.
‘Yes?’ I answered and questioned.
‘Can you do me a favor?’
This is murder! How can you expect me to say no to the newly wed sweet thing? I just nodded my head.
‘You see...’ she started hesitatingly.
I kept quiet keeping my eyes on her.
‘You see, your brother is not feeling well....’ . I did not show any concern as I did not see any concern in her eyes either, rather I feel, I saw a little bit of smile in her eyes (may be my illusion).
Hence I kept my waiting face as wooden as possible.
‘He is not going to office today.’ Again pause for both of us.
Am I making it difficult for her? I felt a little pang in my heart. ‘You want me to get a doctor?’
‘No, No, Nothing serious. He has already popped up some pills and will be all right soon.....you see,.... actually,.... I had an appointment with my friend Geeta. I was supposed to meet her at Gariahaat and we are supposed to go for a movie. Can you meet her and tell her that I cannot make it today?’
‘But Gariahaat is in south.....’ my protest got stifled in the middle only looking at her pleading eyes.
‘But I don’t know her. How do I recognize her?’
The million-dollar smile broke out in her face as she sensed the victory.
‘Don’t worry about that. She will be standing in front of Mouchak, the restaurant at Gariahaat market at exactly 2 P.M.
‘How does she look like?’
‘Don’t worry, you cannot miss her. Actually you would have known her if only you would not miss our wedding’ the reproach came out. I missed by brother’s wedding due to some other important engagement for which she has vouched she will never forgive me.
As told, I found the young lady, in scarlet red at the appointed place, at the appointed time.
I am no roadside Romeo. Hence did not hesitate to approach the lady.
“Geeta?’
‘Yes’
‘I have come to give you a message from your friend Romila. She is held up today and excused herself.’
‘What?’
I repeated the message.
‘Are you mad?’
I did not reply but started sensing trouble. I told myself ‘this is not the lady you will like to cross. Save yourself. Make a hasty retreat.’
But when you are young you always do not listen to your inner saner advice.
‘You see.....’ my well-intended clarification only could go this far.
And that’s how it started.
Well. I told her who I am. ‘ Oh. You are the rebel one!’ I did not know what she meant by that exclamation, but felt wise to keep quiet about it.
‘Can we go inside the restaurant and have something cool to drink? I am really thirsty’. I regained some sense of chivalry.
The tired eyes fell on mine, how fast they change?
But I have nothing to complain; rather felt happy to see the conversion from Das-bhuja to normal human being.
‘I never knew she is such a stupid female. How can she do this to me?’ We started our conversation inside the restaurant after a couple of sips of the cool drink.
‘She is not stupid, but the marriage made her stupid’ I commented gravely. I have a serious view that only stupids get married.
She looked up at me.
‘But what do I do now. I told my parents about going for a movie and decked up myself for the occasion. How can I go back now?’
I looked up the beautiful lady draped in a beautiful scarlet red color saree and really felt sorry for her. Poor thing!
“Can you come with me for the movie. It is a good Uttam-Supriya movie..’ she stopped in the middle looking at my face. I am sure she has seen horror on my face.
I thought for a while. Me? The Young Turk, who has vowed to changed the world! Again the shivering started. What will people say if anybody sees me in a theatre watching an Uttam-supriya romantic movie sitting with a beautiful lady romantically? Romance and me? Wasting valuable time? No way.
But how can you say no to this young lady? I started cursing myself. I am getting nervous. All my life, I have studied in all boys’ school, college. Never have interacted with any girl. I even don’t know how to behave with a girl. Definitely it is not an in thing to refuse a girl! I started cursing my bad luck, my sister-in law. How coolly she put me in such an awkward situation.
“You see I understand your problem. But really I cannot go for the movie, as much as I would like to....’ I stopped. Definitely she is not buying my bullshit.
‘You see, I am not making excuses. I have to go to Boimela (Book Fair).’ I tried to look more sincere, which I really was.
Well, sincerity does pay. She believed me. ‘Well then. Let’s go to Boimela. This year I also did not go there.’
I felt jubilant. Not a bad job. It is really another matter. Roaming around the boimela with a female escort is not a very bad thing. It is entirely different than watching a romantic movie.
So that’s how we started. Books are my favorite subject, it is my turf. I never felt want of words in the company of books. We roamed around for hours, discussed about new books, about the crowd, the dust, listened to the poems recited by the budding poets, sat near the waterfront when our feet started aching, ate china badam (fried ground nut) and off course discussed about ourselves also.
It was a start of a long journey. You may be wandering what is the fate of this long journey. Let me keep that for another day.
Am I hallucinating? I felt like Goddess Kali is in front of me holding a sword to decimate me in pieces. Is it a sword, in her hand or a Trishul or may be some new kind of weapon? Is it Goddess Kali? Cannot be. Kali is supposed to be dark in color. I slowly tried to look up once more. No, this wheat complexioned lady cannot be Kali, may be Durga. But Durga is dasa-bhuja-dharini, ten handed one. But only one hand is visible to me, may be I am so much overwhelmed that I also became like Arjuna; so much concentrated in my action, I can see only one thing at a time. But Kali also should have a mundmala – the garland of human heads. I tried to look up again. No, only one small chain around the swan like neck.
Once looking up how can I miss out the glaring eyes? Big black eyes; are these black or brown? How does that matter? So beautiful to look at? Presently spewing lava as if to convert me to ashes. And is that the third eye in between the eyebrows or a mere bindi? In my present state of mind it looks like the third eye only. Does Durga have a third eye or it is only Shiva?
‘Kali or Durga?’ I tried to shake my head to get it cleared.
‘Why the hell are you shaking your head?’ thunder came almost knocking me out. I tried to recollect any wise advices given by my parents about the best course of action to be taken in this kind of situation. But the mind also followed suit of my lower limbs, looks like it also is frozen. Just controlled in time my impulsive urge of shaking the head again to defreeze it. Not bad! Mind is working; may be only in slow motion. But it does not give any reassurance, mind working slow is like a tape recorder moving in slow speed, you will feel a A.R.Rehman composed music as a K.L.Saigal song. Did anyone asked, what is a K.L.Saigal song? Oh not again? You see I am already in trouble, hence don’t confuse me with interrupting questions.
Anyway where was I? Ya, in front of Kali, no no not Kali, Durga. No this is no good. Whether Kali or Durga, I am behaving like a sacrificial lamb in front of her, tongue tied, eyes roaming here and there except at her eyes, legs feeling like made of stone. No this is no good. I might be lamb only but it is no good trembling like a sacrificial one, don’t mind being executed but let me die at least with dignity.
‘What’s the matter, did you loose all of your senses?’
‘Look young lady, I am here only to give you a message.’
Whose voice is this one? I was bewildered. Sounded like mine only. How come? Is it really mine? Once again my legs started trembling. A sharp pain of fear traveled through my spinal cord. I waited for the thunder and blows. Nothing came out for a few seconds, are they few seconds? For me it looked like millennium.
‘By the way who are you?’
Not bad. I looked up. The face is still red in anger. But there is a trace of softness, like the red sun but not of full noon but of quiet evening.
Before I tell my name let me narrate the story from the beginning.
To make a long story short let me go back to this morning. I was getting ready to go out for college, from where I am supposed to go to Book fair at Maidan. My newly married sister-in-law came hurriedly to my room.
‘Dipu, are you going to kolkata?’
I looked at her suspiciously, to be frank; there is no reason for suspicion. I hardly know her. They have just come back from their honeymoon. Married my elder brother just a fortnight back. Don’t look for any story; it is a simple arranged marriage.
‘Yes?’ I answered and questioned.
‘Can you do me a favor?’
This is murder! How can you expect me to say no to the newly wed sweet thing? I just nodded my head.
‘You see...’ she started hesitatingly.
I kept quiet keeping my eyes on her.
‘You see, your brother is not feeling well....’ . I did not show any concern as I did not see any concern in her eyes either, rather I feel, I saw a little bit of smile in her eyes (may be my illusion).
Hence I kept my waiting face as wooden as possible.
‘He is not going to office today.’ Again pause for both of us.
Am I making it difficult for her? I felt a little pang in my heart. ‘You want me to get a doctor?’
‘No, No, Nothing serious. He has already popped up some pills and will be all right soon.....you see,.... actually,.... I had an appointment with my friend Geeta. I was supposed to meet her at Gariahaat and we are supposed to go for a movie. Can you meet her and tell her that I cannot make it today?’
‘But Gariahaat is in south.....’ my protest got stifled in the middle only looking at her pleading eyes.
‘But I don’t know her. How do I recognize her?’
The million-dollar smile broke out in her face as she sensed the victory.
‘Don’t worry about that. She will be standing in front of Mouchak, the restaurant at Gariahaat market at exactly 2 P.M.
‘How does she look like?’
‘Don’t worry, you cannot miss her. Actually you would have known her if only you would not miss our wedding’ the reproach came out. I missed by brother’s wedding due to some other important engagement for which she has vouched she will never forgive me.
As told, I found the young lady, in scarlet red at the appointed place, at the appointed time.
I am no roadside Romeo. Hence did not hesitate to approach the lady.
“Geeta?’
‘Yes’
‘I have come to give you a message from your friend Romila. She is held up today and excused herself.’
‘What?’
I repeated the message.
‘Are you mad?’
I did not reply but started sensing trouble. I told myself ‘this is not the lady you will like to cross. Save yourself. Make a hasty retreat.’
But when you are young you always do not listen to your inner saner advice.
‘You see.....’ my well-intended clarification only could go this far.
And that’s how it started.
Well. I told her who I am. ‘ Oh. You are the rebel one!’ I did not know what she meant by that exclamation, but felt wise to keep quiet about it.
‘Can we go inside the restaurant and have something cool to drink? I am really thirsty’. I regained some sense of chivalry.
The tired eyes fell on mine, how fast they change?
But I have nothing to complain; rather felt happy to see the conversion from Das-bhuja to normal human being.
‘I never knew she is such a stupid female. How can she do this to me?’ We started our conversation inside the restaurant after a couple of sips of the cool drink.
‘She is not stupid, but the marriage made her stupid’ I commented gravely. I have a serious view that only stupids get married.
She looked up at me.
‘But what do I do now. I told my parents about going for a movie and decked up myself for the occasion. How can I go back now?’
I looked up the beautiful lady draped in a beautiful scarlet red color saree and really felt sorry for her. Poor thing!
“Can you come with me for the movie. It is a good Uttam-Supriya movie..’ she stopped in the middle looking at my face. I am sure she has seen horror on my face.
I thought for a while. Me? The Young Turk, who has vowed to changed the world! Again the shivering started. What will people say if anybody sees me in a theatre watching an Uttam-supriya romantic movie sitting with a beautiful lady romantically? Romance and me? Wasting valuable time? No way.
But how can you say no to this young lady? I started cursing myself. I am getting nervous. All my life, I have studied in all boys’ school, college. Never have interacted with any girl. I even don’t know how to behave with a girl. Definitely it is not an in thing to refuse a girl! I started cursing my bad luck, my sister-in law. How coolly she put me in such an awkward situation.
“You see I understand your problem. But really I cannot go for the movie, as much as I would like to....’ I stopped. Definitely she is not buying my bullshit.
‘You see, I am not making excuses. I have to go to Boimela (Book Fair).’ I tried to look more sincere, which I really was.
Well, sincerity does pay. She believed me. ‘Well then. Let’s go to Boimela. This year I also did not go there.’
I felt jubilant. Not a bad job. It is really another matter. Roaming around the boimela with a female escort is not a very bad thing. It is entirely different than watching a romantic movie.
So that’s how we started. Books are my favorite subject, it is my turf. I never felt want of words in the company of books. We roamed around for hours, discussed about new books, about the crowd, the dust, listened to the poems recited by the budding poets, sat near the waterfront when our feet started aching, ate china badam (fried ground nut) and off course discussed about ourselves also.
It was a start of a long journey. You may be wandering what is the fate of this long journey. Let me keep that for another day.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Why should we use armed forces for internal security?
‘The Hindu’ reports: The 147-page report of the Justice B.P. Jeevan Reddy Committee — a copy of which is now with The Hindu — unambiguously recommends the repeal of the controversial law against which people in Manipur and elsewhere in the North-East have been agitating for several years. "The Act is too sketchy, too bald and quite inadequate in several particulars".
"the Act, for whatever reason, has become a symbol of oppression, an object of hate and an instrument of discrimination and high-handedness."
The point of discussion in this article is not about the act. It is about armed forces involvement for internal security and thus resulting in ‘symbol of oppression, an object of hate and an instrument of discrimination and high-handedness’. It is really sad that the glory of our armed forces is overshadowed and they have become a symbol of oppression, an object of hate.
My question is why should we use armed forces for internal security? Well I don’t have any answer. Let me answer why we should not.
Till date the only institution, which is revered by all the Indians irrespective of their location, caste and religion is the armed forces. The position and respect armed forces receive from citizens is well portrayed in the song of Pradeep and sung by Ms. Lata Mangeshkar, ‘o mere watan ke logo’. The lines ‘we sacrifice our lives so that you, the citizens can sleep peacefully’ is the kind of image Indians have for their armed forces. But in North-eastern states and Kashmir valley the armed forces are looked upon as invaders, occupiers. It is not good for the morals of jawans to be called as ‘Hindustani Kutta’ as they are called in Kashmir valley.
Army is trained for war against enemy. In war you either kill or get killed. And they are trained to kill. Fighting your own countrymen is different kind of war. They have to work with lot of restrains, which they are not trained for. Nobody considers the kind of hostility they have to face while fighting internal terror. It is not easy when you know that each and every person surrounding you hates you.
Recently I was traveling in a bus in Chhattishgarh state through the naxalite infested forests. At the dead of night the bus was stopped by jawans and a thorough search was conducted. When they started questioning women passengers, I asked them how could they suspect women? I received a shocking answer. Only the previous night they caught a couple where the woman strapped explosives on her abdomen and pretended as pregnant. I was shocked, and realized the kind of hostility these jawans have to face to discharge their duties.
The daily hatred shown by your own countrymen definitely affects their moral.
Indian democracy gives right to each and every individual to voice his/her opinion against any kind of misdeed how miniscule it may be. There are numerous stories in newspapers and TV of demonstrations against the armed forces. Sporadic cases of military atrocities are highlighted. Are not they seriously affecting the morals of the forces?
The casualties in Kashmir operation is staggering. Besides the casualties being suffered almost on a daily basis and their adverse impact on morale, the Army's prolonged involvement in counter-insurgency operations has several other major disadvantages. The malignant character of civil society seeps in their rank. Everywhere they have to work with the local police force. It will not be surprising to find the corruption of police force influencing the armed forces also. The adverse reputation also affect on new recruitment.
The financial costs of sustaining a successful counter-insurgency campaign are staggering. I have the figure of Army’s 1997-98 budget, 13% of which were spent on counter insurgency operations. It is obvious that the Army can ill afford expenditure on counter-insurgency operations from its budget without its operational efficiency for its primary task being significantly impaired.
The use of armed forces has become the easiest option for the Govt. of the day. I will go to the extent of claiming that the Govt. (state as well as central) is using armed forces for cleaning the mess they create. Most of the internal conflicts are the results of inept handling by the political masters, greed of the narrow-minded regional politicians. The communal riots, the naxalite, Kashmir and North-eastern states’ problems cannot have military solutions. But that is another debate. We should keep the halo of armed forces intact. We should create a specialized force for dealing internal insurgency similar to Rapid Action Force.
It is high time we insulate the armed forces from internal conflict. Let the armed forces be used for what they are trained to do; save the nation from outside enemies.
"the Act, for whatever reason, has become a symbol of oppression, an object of hate and an instrument of discrimination and high-handedness."
The point of discussion in this article is not about the act. It is about armed forces involvement for internal security and thus resulting in ‘symbol of oppression, an object of hate and an instrument of discrimination and high-handedness’. It is really sad that the glory of our armed forces is overshadowed and they have become a symbol of oppression, an object of hate.
My question is why should we use armed forces for internal security? Well I don’t have any answer. Let me answer why we should not.
Till date the only institution, which is revered by all the Indians irrespective of their location, caste and religion is the armed forces. The position and respect armed forces receive from citizens is well portrayed in the song of Pradeep and sung by Ms. Lata Mangeshkar, ‘o mere watan ke logo’. The lines ‘we sacrifice our lives so that you, the citizens can sleep peacefully’ is the kind of image Indians have for their armed forces. But in North-eastern states and Kashmir valley the armed forces are looked upon as invaders, occupiers. It is not good for the morals of jawans to be called as ‘Hindustani Kutta’ as they are called in Kashmir valley.
Army is trained for war against enemy. In war you either kill or get killed. And they are trained to kill. Fighting your own countrymen is different kind of war. They have to work with lot of restrains, which they are not trained for. Nobody considers the kind of hostility they have to face while fighting internal terror. It is not easy when you know that each and every person surrounding you hates you.
Recently I was traveling in a bus in Chhattishgarh state through the naxalite infested forests. At the dead of night the bus was stopped by jawans and a thorough search was conducted. When they started questioning women passengers, I asked them how could they suspect women? I received a shocking answer. Only the previous night they caught a couple where the woman strapped explosives on her abdomen and pretended as pregnant. I was shocked, and realized the kind of hostility these jawans have to face to discharge their duties.
The daily hatred shown by your own countrymen definitely affects their moral.
Indian democracy gives right to each and every individual to voice his/her opinion against any kind of misdeed how miniscule it may be. There are numerous stories in newspapers and TV of demonstrations against the armed forces. Sporadic cases of military atrocities are highlighted. Are not they seriously affecting the morals of the forces?
The casualties in Kashmir operation is staggering. Besides the casualties being suffered almost on a daily basis and their adverse impact on morale, the Army's prolonged involvement in counter-insurgency operations has several other major disadvantages. The malignant character of civil society seeps in their rank. Everywhere they have to work with the local police force. It will not be surprising to find the corruption of police force influencing the armed forces also. The adverse reputation also affect on new recruitment.
The financial costs of sustaining a successful counter-insurgency campaign are staggering. I have the figure of Army’s 1997-98 budget, 13% of which were spent on counter insurgency operations. It is obvious that the Army can ill afford expenditure on counter-insurgency operations from its budget without its operational efficiency for its primary task being significantly impaired.
The use of armed forces has become the easiest option for the Govt. of the day. I will go to the extent of claiming that the Govt. (state as well as central) is using armed forces for cleaning the mess they create. Most of the internal conflicts are the results of inept handling by the political masters, greed of the narrow-minded regional politicians. The communal riots, the naxalite, Kashmir and North-eastern states’ problems cannot have military solutions. But that is another debate. We should keep the halo of armed forces intact. We should create a specialized force for dealing internal insurgency similar to Rapid Action Force.
It is high time we insulate the armed forces from internal conflict. Let the armed forces be used for what they are trained to do; save the nation from outside enemies.
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Laloo, the management Guru or trickster?
IIM Ahmedabad, with lots of hype, invited our great railways minister Sri Laloo Prasad for a guest lecture at the premier institute.
Personally I feel Laloo is synonymous to most of the evils troubling this nation. To talk about Laloo, I need lot of space, hence I will confine myself to Laloo, the Railways minister.
First of all Laloo is touted as the trendsetter for Indian Railways. Let’s look at his contribution:
Laloo started with a bang with his idea of providing tea in earthen pots. There was lots of fanfare about how the cottage industry is going to be benefited. I had the problem of not understanding the priority of Railway Minister; running the railways or improving the cottage industry? May be I am an ignorant fool. Can anybody enlighten me a little more? It is another matter that after initial hype, even the railway minister has forgotten about them.
Personally I feel Laloo is synonymous to most of the evils troubling this nation. To talk about Laloo, I need lot of space, hence I will confine myself to Laloo, the Railways minister.
First of all Laloo is touted as the trendsetter for Indian Railways. Let’s look at his contribution:
Laloo started with a bang with his idea of providing tea in earthen pots. There was lots of fanfare about how the cottage industry is going to be benefited. I had the problem of not understanding the priority of Railway Minister; running the railways or improving the cottage industry? May be I am an ignorant fool. Can anybody enlighten me a little more? It is another matter that after initial hype, even the railway minister has forgotten about them.
Next, Laloo has made the Railways a profitable organization:
I don’t know how he made all the profits, but as I am traveling extensively by railways for last 4/5 months, I have practically seen some methods, which I will not contribute to good management. I will not dispute the fact those are examples of slick profiteering practices normally associated with the private sectors. I will call them only suitable for tricksters.
Maybe a year or two back Railway minister declared reduction of rail fare by Rs.1 with lots of fanfare. They have not increased passenger fare. Because they don’t need to do it openly, they have various ingenious methods of doing that.
1) The railways has introduced Rs.10/-extra levy, for any ticket reserved from out station. As most of the people purchase to and fro tickets, he/she has to shell out Rs.10/- per person for the return journey ticket. And in case you are unfortunate enough to cancel the ticket for whatever the reason, you need to shell out again Rs.10/- extra for outstation ticket.
2) From July 2006, Railways has converted a whooping 140 odd trains from express/mail to super fast trains, by reducing their travel time by one or more hours. In the process collecting Rs.20/- per passenger as super fast charges. Nothing wrong, only problem is that from Hyderabad to New Delhi the original super fast train AP express takes 26 hours whereas the newly converted super fast train Dakshin express takes 30 hours (this is only one example I am aware of, but I am certain there will be plenty).
I had the misfortune of traveling in two of the newly converted super fast trains during last 3 months; Godavari express from Hyderabad to Visakhapatnam and Bangalore express from Hyderabad to Bangalore. The journey time of these two trains were reduced by one and a half hours approximately to make them super fast. And believe me, on all my 4 journeys on each route, the trains were late by more than 1 –2 hours, thus actually taking the same amount of journey time. What do you call this? I call them day light cheating.
3) Till very recent past the railways was charging Rs.5/- per day per baggage in cloakrooms (left luggage rooms). Now the same has been doubled to Rs.10/-; 100% inflation. Whereas if you look at the official porter charges for the poor porters the increase from Rs.5/ to Rs.7/-, (it is another matter, if you try to give the porters the official charge, they will accuse you of murder). That also I don’t know when the last revision happened (Laloo is supposed to be messiah of poor).
4) Railways have a Tatkal reservation system for passengers who decide to travel at the last moment. Earlier you could book only one day before the departure of the train. It was helpful for passengers who had to travel in emergency. Railways charge hefty fees for Tatkal reservation. The railways have increased the Tatkal fee by 200% in the last couple of years. But most tragic and comic part is that you can book Tatkal reservation 5 days in advance. By doing so the railways has also given a new meaning of the word Tatkal (Immediate). Surprised, then read more. You can also book waitlisted ticket in the Tatkal scheme. The waitlisted person whose ticket does not get confirmed has to shell out certain amount of fees. Earlier you had to show some personal identification while booking under Tatkal scheme to discourage malpractices. Now they have removed that criterion.
These are few examples of Railways hoodwinking the public for making profit. I am sure you can find more.
Now I will go to some serious issues.
When was it decided to convert Railways to a profit making organization instead of the social responsibility of the Govt.? In their pursuit of making profit they are overlooking the basic responsibilities of Indian Railways. One example: every year hundreds of people die to cross un-manned level crossings. And the Railways ministry gives paucity of funds the reason for not providing manned level crossings. They show Rs.1000/- crore as profit! I would like to know how much amount are they spending for improvement of safety. The kind of railways accidents are taking place, the general public has right to know, why are they happening and what are the actions taken to reduce them. Why the amount shown as profit could not be spent on safety measures? To give Rs.400/- crores as bonus to the employees?
I am talking about the kind of service provided by the railways. It is common complaint of paucity of basic amenities in the coaches in sleeper class. Forget about the unreserved compartments and railway stations. Upper classes are better. But in this pro-poor country getting ticket in upper classes is not easy.
I must admit that the cleanliness of Vijaywada and Visakhapatnam stations are praiseworthy. They have given the cleaning services to private parties in these two stations. It was really pleasant sight to see well-uniformed persons cleaning the stations and trains.
I would have liked to judge the railway minister with the accident-free, corruption free, and passenger friendly service, not by the kind of profit railways are making.
If they want to run the railways as a profit making organization, nothing wrong with that. Let them convert it to some company like Indian Airlines. Why we need a minister for that? Why the railway budget has to be approved by the Parliament? It is not difficult. Let them divide the railways into two parts; one for running the facilities like airport authority and the other for running trains, where we can get more operators to play. Let them leave their monopolistic hold over the railways. Let there be private competition as we have seen in the airways and telecom sector. Let there be accountability. When the passengers are paying, let the railways pay penalty for the late running of the trains. When we talk about profitability there should be accountability also. There should be yardstick of the services provided. When we can complain for any kind of bad service received from the supplier to consumer forum, we should have recourse of complaining for the bad service provided by the railways.
Unfortunately for India, today we have totally forgotten that India is a socialist republic, the Govt. of India has some social responsibility. We, the citizens of India, are so much bugged by the words, profit and money making, that we are forgetting our social responsibilities. The moment we find profit, we start dancing, whatever the crooked way it might have been earned. Railways cannot be run by the profiteering mentality. If I am not mistaken, the major part of Indian Railways runs on the premise of social responsibility. Majority of the railway stations do not earn enough money to meet the expenses to run the stations, forget about making profit.I really wish to find out what are the other tricks Laloo employing to hoodwink the public. I feel he should get the award of greatest trickster
Saturday, October 07, 2006
How long are we going to be prisoner of pressure tactics
I was watching a debate on hanging of Afzal Guru on NDTV.
I have strong objection to the last sentence used by anchor Ms. Barkha Dutt, ‘Let’s start a debate on the hanging of Afzal Guru’.
The debate was on clemency for Afzal Guru, the person sentenced to be hanged for his involvement in the case of attack on Parliament. Now let me first present the views of the panelists.
I used to have some respect for Mr. Farookh Abdulla, former CM of J & K. But today I am shocked by his statements. Looked like he is totally confused. He was agreeing to the supremacy of Supreme Court and was asking for clemency for Afzal on the basis of sentiments of the people of valley. But he was also referring that in valley people felt that Afzal did not get proper justice (thus casting doubt on the judgment). He seemed to me confused about where he stands. On the one hand his secular mind did agree to the judicial process of India but the politician in him presently has an upper hand on what he espouses. That is what surprised me. Because till date I was having the impression that he is one of the very few politicians who is not afraid to take a stand on what he believes in. He was on his worst when he equated the condition of Afzal Guru along with Masood Azar, saying that when we could free Masood Azar, why not Afzal. He forgot that at the time of release Masood Azar was only an under trial on a less serious crime and Afzal is sentenced by the Supreme Court proved to be guilty. And secondly one wrongdoing does not call for another. It was more surprising because he is one of the direct sufferers of the ongoing Kashmir problem. Almost all the Kashmir watchers agree that two instances of similar kind of soft policy (Mufti’s daughter and Masood Azar) have increased violence substantially in the valley.
The points of Soli Sorabji, the former attorney general was logical, apolitical.
Mr. G. Parthasarathy as usual was on his best on his fight against Pakistan and terrorism. And here once again I find one of the finest brains on the subject. His points are concise, to the point, realistic devoid of any hypocrisy.
The points raised by other panelists Prof. Geelani and Mr. Yaseen Malik were in expected lines. While Prof. Geelani was insisting that Afzal did not get proper justice and Mr. Malik wanted to point out that this hanging will create more terrorists in Kashmir.
There were two more panelists one was an advocate and other a writer. They were new faces for me and I am not able to recollect their names. But their views also were in the expected lines. The advocate was giving her legal opinion and the writer of her humanitarian opinion.
A very interesting point is made by Mr. Soli Sorabji; that if tomorrow there is hanging sentence for the Gujrat riot offenders, will we be clamoring for clemency for them also? Unfortunately the anchor Ms. Dutt somehow managed to skirt the issue. I definitely would have liked to hear the responses from the Kashmiri leaders and the human rights activists. I am quite sure that the human rights activists will clamor for more sever punishment for them.
Now, back to the last comment by Ms. Dutt, let’s start a debate on the subject. How can you start a debate on a subject, which already have seen three tiers of judicial procedure? Like the Air force chief did yesterday I would like to sing like Govinda, ‘This happens only in India.’ The case of Afzal Guru took its own logical course from trial court to Delhi High court and lastly to Supreme court. Now where is the scope of any debate? If at all there were any case of debate those should have been taken care off during these legal processes. Those humanitarians, who tells that proper procedure was not followed, where were they earlier? Why did not they raise objection during the legal procedures.
Today on the one hand we are crying that the legal system of India is so slow that people are loosing faith on our judicial system. They site the example of spread of Maoists who take recourses of violence to get justice. On the other hand we are creating all kinds of hindrances against fast disposal of justice. Do we really know what we are asking for?
By asking for debate we are only creating more confusion, more division. Already the nation is vertically divided on the issue. In the valley almost everyone is asking for clemency, and the rest of India is against that in almost in an equivocal term. In a poll conducted by CNN IBN 90% of the voters gave YES verdict in favor of hanging. And with each passing day the atmosphere is becoming more turbulent. For the right wing parties like BJP, this is an opportunity to whip up fanaticism. And nobody should get surprised if it becomes another Hindu Muslim fight.
Let’s respect our Judiciary. Let the guilty be punished. Let the law take its own course.
I have strong objection to the last sentence used by anchor Ms. Barkha Dutt, ‘Let’s start a debate on the hanging of Afzal Guru’.
The debate was on clemency for Afzal Guru, the person sentenced to be hanged for his involvement in the case of attack on Parliament. Now let me first present the views of the panelists.
I used to have some respect for Mr. Farookh Abdulla, former CM of J & K. But today I am shocked by his statements. Looked like he is totally confused. He was agreeing to the supremacy of Supreme Court and was asking for clemency for Afzal on the basis of sentiments of the people of valley. But he was also referring that in valley people felt that Afzal did not get proper justice (thus casting doubt on the judgment). He seemed to me confused about where he stands. On the one hand his secular mind did agree to the judicial process of India but the politician in him presently has an upper hand on what he espouses. That is what surprised me. Because till date I was having the impression that he is one of the very few politicians who is not afraid to take a stand on what he believes in. He was on his worst when he equated the condition of Afzal Guru along with Masood Azar, saying that when we could free Masood Azar, why not Afzal. He forgot that at the time of release Masood Azar was only an under trial on a less serious crime and Afzal is sentenced by the Supreme Court proved to be guilty. And secondly one wrongdoing does not call for another. It was more surprising because he is one of the direct sufferers of the ongoing Kashmir problem. Almost all the Kashmir watchers agree that two instances of similar kind of soft policy (Mufti’s daughter and Masood Azar) have increased violence substantially in the valley.
The points of Soli Sorabji, the former attorney general was logical, apolitical.
Mr. G. Parthasarathy as usual was on his best on his fight against Pakistan and terrorism. And here once again I find one of the finest brains on the subject. His points are concise, to the point, realistic devoid of any hypocrisy.
The points raised by other panelists Prof. Geelani and Mr. Yaseen Malik were in expected lines. While Prof. Geelani was insisting that Afzal did not get proper justice and Mr. Malik wanted to point out that this hanging will create more terrorists in Kashmir.
There were two more panelists one was an advocate and other a writer. They were new faces for me and I am not able to recollect their names. But their views also were in the expected lines. The advocate was giving her legal opinion and the writer of her humanitarian opinion.
A very interesting point is made by Mr. Soli Sorabji; that if tomorrow there is hanging sentence for the Gujrat riot offenders, will we be clamoring for clemency for them also? Unfortunately the anchor Ms. Dutt somehow managed to skirt the issue. I definitely would have liked to hear the responses from the Kashmiri leaders and the human rights activists. I am quite sure that the human rights activists will clamor for more sever punishment for them.
Now, back to the last comment by Ms. Dutt, let’s start a debate on the subject. How can you start a debate on a subject, which already have seen three tiers of judicial procedure? Like the Air force chief did yesterday I would like to sing like Govinda, ‘This happens only in India.’ The case of Afzal Guru took its own logical course from trial court to Delhi High court and lastly to Supreme court. Now where is the scope of any debate? If at all there were any case of debate those should have been taken care off during these legal processes. Those humanitarians, who tells that proper procedure was not followed, where were they earlier? Why did not they raise objection during the legal procedures.
Today on the one hand we are crying that the legal system of India is so slow that people are loosing faith on our judicial system. They site the example of spread of Maoists who take recourses of violence to get justice. On the other hand we are creating all kinds of hindrances against fast disposal of justice. Do we really know what we are asking for?
By asking for debate we are only creating more confusion, more division. Already the nation is vertically divided on the issue. In the valley almost everyone is asking for clemency, and the rest of India is against that in almost in an equivocal term. In a poll conducted by CNN IBN 90% of the voters gave YES verdict in favor of hanging. And with each passing day the atmosphere is becoming more turbulent. For the right wing parties like BJP, this is an opportunity to whip up fanaticism. And nobody should get surprised if it becomes another Hindu Muslim fight.
Let’s respect our Judiciary. Let the guilty be punished. Let the law take its own course.
Subscribe to Posts [Atom]