Times Change

161. Queue

2012-01-24T20:48:00.000+05:30

“Are you in this Queue?” he asked.

“Yes and No” I answered.

He frowned. At least I thought so.

Today I was in Nasik. Even before we started our work, people asked me whether I wanted to visit Tryamabakeshwar temple. Someone called me from Mumbai and suggested me to do so.

I have visited this temple many times and it is one of my favorite places. So, in the evening at last, people were able to convince me and thus we were there.

There was lot of crowd. One of the trustees was visiting temple then and so there was much more discipline than what is usually observed. As always, local people tried to arrange for some kind of special treatment for me – that in most of these religious places means avoiding standing in the queue. I don’t like to break the queue when so many people are standing there. If I want to visit temple, I should follow the standard procedures. If I don’t have time, well, no God needs me. We have a mutual understanding about not needing each other. We respect each other and let live other in peace.

I told the people around me not to bother about breaking the queue. I added that one should approach God by leaving aside material achievements – because they do not matter in the relationship with God. As the security guards did not allow ‘special entry’ today, people around me had no option but to follow the queue.

For last two days I had overworked. Lot of travel, no food on time, many challenges in the work I was supposed to monitor and had to be very patient to make people understand the next steps that were essential. I was completely exhausted and needed time to relax and refresh. Looking at the length of the queue, I said, “Ok, it looks like God does not want me to visit him today. Let us go back.”

On my casual remarks, the team around me panicked. They immediately started searching for some higher authority of the temple, with whose permission they could get me through easily. I had no energy to discuss rationality with them. My views on God are bit weird and it needed special efforts from me to communicate those to others. I realized that if I don’t stand in the queue, these people will continue to feel uneasy and they will keep on trying some or the other way to take me inside by the shortest possible way.

The only option for me to stop them was to stand in the queue as if I was really willing to visit the temple. It was hypocritical of course, but at times I have to be so – not for my own wishes, but to satisfy others.

So, I was in the queue physically and was not there at all emotionally or spiritually. Hence this: ‘Yes and No”.

And then I kept overhearing others. Two people behind me were discussing some Rural Development Scheme of Government and were sharing secretes about ‘how to get included in the beneficiary list’. A woman standing in front of me was reading an English book but her 10 year child was not allowing her to concentrate. A woman in her 30s was chanting Shiva stotra – she broke suddenly and shouted at her 8 year daughter for some kind of misbehavior. A group of youth was planning about what they should eat in the evening. An old lady was explaining her knee-ache to other lady. A young man was looking dreamily at some tree in the temple courtyard. A girl in jeans and sleeveless T shirt was sentimentally watching her plate in which flowers and other material for worship was kept. A group of children tried to bypass the queue and got a big scolding from elders. One elderly gentleman started his sermon on how the next generation is getting worse. I was wondering why nobody is using mobile and clicking and realized that mobile phones and cameras were not allowed inside temple premises.

The queue kept on moving. As it was a zigzag queue on every turn I had different people on my left and on my right. I kept on hearing different versions of life – mostly material.

Nobody in that queue was willing to give up material aspects of life even when they cherished to see the God, even when they were in the presence of God. I was not different from them as like a sponge, I was taking everything that was around me.

Was I in the queue?

Not really.

“If you are not in the queue, you are not in the queue”, again he spoke.

I was surprised. Then I smiled.

I said, “This remark is very absurd, specially coming from you. It is more like Zen.”

“Well, if you are not in the queue, sometimes you are also in the queue,” he added thoughtfully. I cannot imagine him smiling, but I guess he was smiling.

“Decide for yourself,” he said and disappeared.

I am still tired.

I have yet to get some nourishing food – simple but nourishing.

Who was he? What did he say? Why did he say it to me? Did that conversation really happen or as always I was just dreaming with eyes open? Why it always happens to me? Is there any seed of truth in what he said or the fatigue is getting over me? Why can’t I stop thinking?

Lots of questions. There is sort of queue of questions.

Yes, somehow, I am always in one or the other queue.

(Nasik, Maharashtra)

160. Search

2012-01-15T12:49:00.000+05:30

I could not help smiling even though I was little stressed.

The reason for stress was simple – Air India pilots went on strike - once again – and though the reports said that they have joined duty – I did not know whether my flight scheduled today afternoon will take me to Delhi or not.

But anyway, there is no point in thinking too much about things which are beyond my control.

So, I was taking my breakfast with leisure.

The restaurant was such that I could overhear conversations around without any effort. The usual tourist conversations are not very interesting – so I was not paying attention to those.

Then a large family appeared. The way they came in different pairs attracted my attention. One of the pairs was a woman in 70s and a young man in 20s. The other family members had already started their breakfast and this pair had arrived little later. They probably were grandmother-grandson.

“What would you have grandma?” the grandson asked obediently.

“Nothing” declared grandma. Then on a second thought she said, “Just bring me a cup of tea.”

Then she probably heard other members talking about various dishes available on the buffet counter.

By the time the cup of tea arrived, grandma wanted a piece of toast. She said that as she had to take medicine, it was better that she ate something first. Initially she wanted plain toast and then she ordered for jam. The moment the jam was offered to her, she wanted butter too.

After a minute or so she said, she won’t mind a piece of paratha and then of course she wanted some pickle with it. When pickle arrived, she asked why curd was not served. The curd came. By the time I left the restaurant people around her were telling her how good the puri-subjee was and I am sure that would be the next order of grandma.

I was smiling.

I guess the behavior of that grandma was not unusual. We all do the same on various occasions. All new- year resolutions are of the nature of grandma’s resolution of ‘not to have breakfast.”

Why do we get tempted? Why are we not sure about ourselves? Why do we get influenced by what others are doing? Why can’t we take decisions for which we have enough capacity to practice those? Why can’t stand to our resolutions? Why do we get carried away by our desires?

We all search for these fundamental answers. Those who get it, cross the barriers. Those who don’t are caught in the same net again and again. We never know when the search would be over. The key is to keep on searching.

(Gwalior, Madhya Pradesh)

159. Not Enough

2012-01-08T22:03:00.000+05:30

When I entered Mumbai office, the first thing I noticed was that poster. Nobody remembered from where it came from, but it was there.

A young man was jumping from a hilltop into the deep sea and the poster said, 'One Life is Enough.’

I liked the poster.

People around me thought that the poster gave a contradictory message to what the organization and everybody around stood for. They wanted to remove it and I stood for it.

My teammates believed in re-birth. My team argued with me about this ‘One Life’ concept. Well, I don’t mind dreaming that in next birth I would be this and that. But I know: then I won’t remember this birth. So logically, in each life there is only one life. We should live this life fully as if it is never going to come again and that is why I liked that ‘One Life’ approach.

Moreover, I do not know anything about ‘Life after Death’ or that ultimate ‘Truth’. Many scriptures and saints have said so much about that ultimate Truth – I do respect them. However it is their knowledge and experience they are talking about; until I have that experience, I cannot talk about Ultimate Truth and series of life etc. – though I know many theories. I am not ashamed of declaring that ‘I do not Know’.

We kept on arguing. Once when I returned from a week long tour, I found that the poster was removed and was replaced by something else.

Well, majority wins – almost always wins. In democratic set up, one can argue and one can try to convince others, but one can’t always win. Fair enough.

Days, months, years passed by.

Now-a-days I feel that life is moving too fast. There are many things which I need to do and need to learn, but there is no time.

I would like to study Mathematics again. If time permits, I would like to spend some time on excavation site. If I get some time, I would resume my association with flute and/or harmonium. If I have some spare time, I would like to read many books. There are places to visit and there are people to converse with.

I have an ever-growing ‘to do list’ and somewhere deep within I know that I won’t be able to all that in this one life.

Indeed; One Life is not Enough!

(Delhi)

158. Protest

2012-01-01T18:40:00.001+05:30

Protest I must now, with all my powers;
The silent suffering stretched beyond limits

Has shattered me into pieces,

I wake up to the reality with tremendous confusion.

To this shameless situation, I must Protest.

All your customs and traditions, smiling an inch hypocritical;

Attack aggressively every minute.

I look at them affectionately,

But even for a moment, I refuse to be caged by a single one.

You misunderstand, misinterpret, mis-construct the truth;

Your authority I must Protest.

The mighty wings have a great potential to migrate

(Like I did in the past)

But surprisingly I prefer clinging on to this Earth

- ---- Aimlessly, just by habit

To my inaction, inefficiency, desire binding me to the world,

I must Protest.

With all unguarded actions-reactions, meaningless at its core;

The world is created again and again, to which I do not belong.

The sharp sword of latent wisdom separates every moment from other.

I do not know why this alienation scares;

To this fear, I must Protest.

Of course, you are always there; with your tender and loving heart;

However, you seem to be unaware that like a breeze and joyous rain

You are triggered by distant realities (I have nothing to do with them).

There needs to be a vacuum within me to attract you.

This ‘proactive’ness to seek you my dear; I Protest today.

Written sometime in October 2004 (Delhi)
(Delhi)

157. Footnote

2011-12-25T10:43:00.000+05:30

What happens when you observe more space occupied by footnote than the main text?

And what when it happens page after page? When it looks like never ending? With lot of patience I counted footnotes on the first 100 pages of the book and I came across as many as 123 footnotes. Is it not an overwhelming number?

Footnote is not something new to me. I have come across it as a reader and have used it – but used sparingly – as is the norm. I generally find them useful.

But during last few days, while reading The Life of Ramkrishna by Romain Rolland, I found too many footnotes. A dramatist, novelist, art historian who has prestigious Nobel Prize for Literature in his name, cannot be doubted about his writing skills. I was baffled with the amount of footnotes he has used. That I found some of the footnotes highly interesting did not make things easier for me.

There is another interesting phenomenon I have observed simultaneously. I have this book in my collection since January 1991, for the last twenty years. Sri Ramakrishna Paramahamsa is one of my favorite teachers. My journey with him has been interesting. I was attracted by his simplicity and clarity but at the same time he challenged my rational thinking - it was a difficult task for me to understand him. But he never demanded anything from me and thus won my head and heart both. I keep on reading this book as and when I want.I read it partially or fully as per my desire. In my earlier readings, I never remember to have noted these many footnotes – maybe I just went ahead without paying attention to them. Why I stumbled across footnotes this time is another mystery – but I will save it for another time.

Footnote is supposed to provide additional information. Wikipedia says: Notes are most often used as an alternative to long explanatory notes that can be distracting to readers. Most literary style guidelines (including the Modern Language Association and the American Psychological Association) recommend limited use of foot and endnotes. However, publishers often encourage note references in lieu of parenthetical references. Aside from use as a bibliographic element, notes are used for additional information or explanatory notes that might be too digressive for the main text.

What do these excessive footnotes indicate?

That the matter under discussions is complex?
That the subject has too many interlinks – all of which cannot be explained?
That the author has much more information on the topic and he is limited by the space?
That the matter of this book depends on many external resources?
The first edition of the book was published in January 1929. So, does this indicate that norms and practices change as per the time?

What does my observing those Footnotes and thinking about it indicates? That sometimes I observe obvious things very late? That I interpret the world around as per my wishes?

Maybe, there is one lesson for me.

I should be cautious about Footnotes taking precedence over the Main Text.

Keeping those two at their respective places with the right perspective is the key towards making life more meaningful.

******
You might like to read Appeal of Despair

156. Missing Link

2011-12-18T23:20:00.000+05:30

While leaving, I felt that I should not have visited the place at all. I had not visited the place for years - in fact, it is my first visit and today was no special reason to visit. However, this day was marked for you; it seems.

Almost everyone got down at Red Fort from the HoHo bus, and the guide looked at me enquiringly. I told her that I wanted to go to the next point. I was the only one getting down there.

The entry was not a problem at all. No security check, no queue, no tickets.

But everyone is asked to take shoes off. I keep the shoes in the stand and come across one of your well known statements. You say:

The simplicity of your words is touching. I stand there for few moments – asking the question to myself I guess. I don’t have to go inside and take your ‘darshan’ – for that matter you are no God for me. If I could have met you, I would have certainly argued with you and you know I am hard nut to convince. But that is not to be – we never met and will never meet.

I move inside and watch people clicking around – just clicking and clicking.

Only few foreigners are interested in your life and in your actions. At least some people are talking about you finally – better few than none.

I move further around. The original idea of the place must have been great. The surrounding cell-like structures (sort of open cabins) should be a good place to sit and think – like the one they have in Buddhist monasteries.

But they are so dirty, one cannot sit there. If you were there, you would take a broom and start cleaning those. To young ones who wanted to join Freedom struggle, the first task you gave was toilet cleaning. At least I know story of one person whom you had given this task. Now you would need more people to clean things around – you alone won’t be able to do it – even with your ‘weapon’ of fasting. I know, weapon is the not the right word!

I sometimes wonder why I treat you as if I know you fully well. I have hardly read anything you have written. You had time enough to write volumes and I don’t have time even to read those.

The truth is: I am not interested.

Do I think you are outdated and hence irrelevant?

I don’t think so. Otherwise why should I visit Rajghat on a foggy Sunday morning?

But what is the relevance? Where is the connection? Where is the bridge? Where is that thread? Where do we stand in the scheme and the dream you talk about?

The link is still missing.

155. Guilt

2011-12-11T23:01:00.001+05:30

I know Mumbai has only two seasons – Summer and Monsoon; no Winter at all.

It took me one year to understand that Delhi too has only two seasons – Summer and Winter – no Monsoon at all. I mean it rains, but it is not like a ‘rainy season’.

So, while moving around Nehru Place, I was thirsty. Though it was month of July, the Sun was blazing. I was amused with this habit of Delhi to name Malls after great historical persons. Nehru Place, Bhikaji Kama Place, Aurobindo Place, Rajendra Place …. All these places are basically Shopping Complexes.

I went to a small shop. There were many ‘cold (soft) drinks’. I almost don’t like any of those. Maybe I should drink water – I thought. Suddenly I experienced some movement at my side. A young girl was standing by my side and looking at me expectantly. She was about 8 to 10 years. Her frock was torn at many places but it was clean. Her hair was unkempt. She looked weak. Her eyes were big – maybe because of her malnourished status, the eyes looked bigger. She was touching my Kurta and was trying to smile.

I smiled to that young girl. I asked, “Are you hungry?”

“No, I just had some food,” her honest answer surprised me.

“Well, “ I did not know what to speak next.

“What are you going to drink?” she asked me.

Well, I was thinking of drinking water – but I knew that was not what she expected.

“What would you like to have?” I asked.

She looked at me in disbelief.

I repeated the question.

“I never had that” – she showed me one bottle with some hesitation.

The shopkeeper was getting impatient.

“Madam, don’t pay any attention to her. They are beggars. All the day they follow some or the other. Give her a rupee or two, that is all.” He advised me.

I asked the shopkeeper to give two bottles of what the girl had indicated. It was badam milk – cold milk with almond pieces and sugar. It was good. I liked it.

The girl was trying to finish the drink in a hurry. I told her not to hurry.

She looked happy and satisfied.

When she finished half of the bottle, she stopped suddenly.

“What happened? Don’t you like it?” I asked.

She was clearly in two minds.

She looked at the half finished bottle once and looked at a distant corner again.

Then she came to a decision.

“I want to take this to my young brother. Can you wait for five minutes? I will just take the bottle to him and bring the empty bottle. You know he too never had this, I liked it and I want him to have this” she pleaded.

I was touched by her innocence. Who would give something for others so easily?

The shopkeeper and the people around were watching the scene with interest now.

I smiled at them, they smiled back to me.

“Finish your milk first. Will take another one for your brother,” I told the young one.

I asked for the third bottle. Gave that to the girl. Asked her if she wanted any more.

She said, only one bottle would do – as her elder siblings and parents have tested the badam milk some other time.

I asked the shopkeeper to charge me for the price of the (empty) bottle – in case the girl forgets to return the bottle to him.

“What are you talking Madam? We are not so bad. Let the girl take the bottle and return whenever. Does not matter if we miss one empty bottle,” he said, everybody around nodded.

“After all she stays here. We are sort of neighbors. But many customers don’t like them around and so we shout at them,” another one explained.

“Come again,” the girl said to me.

“Do come again Madam,” the shopkeepers said with smile.

Who knows, I might have been in the place of that girl!

Or if life changes to worst, I might have to beg one day!!

At times even if I cannot give money or food to beggars, I treat them with dignity.

Life is full of uncertainties – but I have no fear.

Guilt? Yes I feel some sort of guilt.

How can I say that I live in a cultured society where people have to beg for food and have to live on streets?

How can I spend so much for non-needs when millions have no ways of fulfilling basic needs?

Yes, I feel guilty of being not able to change the reality around – as I would have liked!

I guess I will have to live with this guilt forever!

154. Other Way Round

2011-12-04T21:33:00.001+05:30

There are occasions when I do not understand what to do, what to decide, which road to take.

These are not necessarily very serious situations. On the contrary in serious situations I take my heart’s call and hence never have dilemmas.

However when problems are very simple, I tend to get more confused. Sometimes I try one aspect and sometimes I try another one. But so far I never have been able to arrive at ultimate solutions to these dilemmas. Whichever way I go, it hardly makes any difference; - so, in fact, it should not be a problem; still it is.

For example, today I am struggling with what to order for dinner. I want something simple to eat – maybe just daal and rice - but as I am put in a luxury hotel such ‘simple food’ is not available here. To make a choice out of what is ‘not my choice at all’ is more difficult.

Well, when I am clear about what I want, everything seems to be easy. When I am confused, everything seems to be difficult.

Clarity comes out of choices and preferences.

Confusion comes when there are no choices and no preferences.

Whenever I have ‘no specific choice’ I seem to invite trouble – though temporary, it keeps on coming in different forms.

Is it not funny? I thought– having choices would make my life difficult.

It is rather the other way round.

153. Duel

2011-11-28T22:05:00.001+05:30

Someone asked me the other day, “Why don’t you use dual SIM handset?”

That sounded like a good idea.

For more than a year, I am using two cellphones; two handsets and two service providers.

Because one service provider does not provide range to all the places I have to be.

I keep on carrying both the handsets with me.

I went to a mobile shop and explored. Price was not at all an issue.

I liked one and decided to come back for it sometime later.

When I want something, I somehow always come across ‘the other side’.

I cannot and should not throw away things – especially when they are working.

What do I really need cellphone for? For making and receiving calls.

For sending and receiving messages.

I have a digital camera, so I no more use cellphone camera.

I have very few chosen songs, beyond that I don’t listen to anything – so FM (Radio) is not my priority.

And anyway, one of my handsets has all these facilities – including Bluetooth etc.

I am not happy with the idea of creating electronic waste.

I really don’t need even one mobile, then why throw two and have the third?

I needed a strong argument for purchasing new dual SIM handset.

I did not have that.

So, I did not purchase.

I left early morning at 6.00 from my friend’s house in Mumbai.

Within ten minutes, I received her call.

She informed me that I had forgotten one of the handsets at her home.

I asked the driver to turn back and gott the handset.

I tell myself:: there is an advantage of having two cell phones.

I could get the information on the other phone.

Imagine if I had only one cell phone and I had forgotten that at her home

– she would not have been able to inform me.

So, better not to purchase dual SIM phone – I tell myself nth time.

Generally I do not read newspapers. But I picked up a copy of newspaper on 10^th November.

The ‘Delhi Times’ supplement of ‘Times of India’ carries a headline:

DOES YOUR MOBILE FUND WARS?

It describes how a film reveals the link between our cell-phones and

the death of 5 million people and 200,000 rapes in Central Africa.

The documentary is ‘Blood In The Mobile’ by Danish director Frank Poulsen.

Well, I don’t know anything about how mobile is produced and how it works.

But better not to contribute even indirectly to so much of pain and horror in the world.

By the same yardstick, I should not be using many more things. I prepare a list.

So, better not to purchase dual SIM phone – I tell myself once again.

I know the argument and the duel would continue.

I realize that as is my wish, I gather evidence accordingly.

Today I do not really want dual SIM handset and so I am collecting all evidence against that sin.

But who knows, tomorrow if my desire for dual SIM handset becomes strong – the same mind and same intellect would keep on collecting information which will suit my decision.

It has always happened like this and it will continue to happen in the same way.

Intellect is just a means for mind to fulfill its desires.

Intellect almost always surrenders.

The duel continues because the desires have no end.

152. Wrong Corner

2011-11-21T23:06:00.001+05:30

Very rarely we agreed, and it was one of those occasions.

By ‘we’ I mean me and my organization. We always had different perspectives and hence different priorities. What I thought most important was neglected by my organization and what my organization thought of prime importance was almost always very insignificant to me.

Still we co-existed and did rather well together – I have never understood the mystery of why and how.

The organization was celebrating its 40^th year of consistent existence. There was a gala function arranged. Employees coming from all the corners of the country were engrossed in thematic review, sharing experiences, documenting learning, strategic planning etc.

The agreement I had talked about earlier was: Gender Integration is an important topic to be discussed in this historic meeting.

Somehow the responsibility of discussing Gender Integration came to me. I was not very high up on the ladder – for obvious reasons – but still I was given the responsibility. Maybe there were two reasons, there was no one else who had enough experience of working on this theme with strong field perspective and I was the self-declared champion for the cause. It was kind of TINA situation – There Is No Alternative. So, I was there – chosen one!

Boss A told me to prepare a power point presentation. I asked him about the objective of the presentation. He was clueless – as all Bosses are. He said, “B has suggested your name. Maybe you should talk to him.” Naturally, B was A’s boss.

I spoke to B. First of all, B did not understand what I was asking. Secondly, he did not remember. Third, he was not ready to take any responsibility of such a sensitive topic. B politely requested me (he was always polite with me), “Why don’t you discuss with C?”

Yes, you go it right. C was B’s boss.

C was out of town. I called. He diplomatically said, “Ah! You are the expert on the topic. You know everything about it. Why do you want to test me?” Then he added, “You know the best, so go ahead with whatever you feel would be right for the occasion.” C had always given me such freedom – he knew that when left free, I gave my best.

Taking into consideration the importance of the event I prepared a power point presentation. I prepared well giving a lot of thought on what to include, what to emphasize and what to exclude. I took pains to elaborate basic concepts, evolution of the theme in the organization (historical journey), milestones, strengths, challenges, possible areas of integration, programmatic and structural actions required, desired changes at personal, institutional and methodological levels etc. I had ample examples from the field and knowing the audience I had kept the language very simple - avoiding technical terms as far as possible. Instead of focusing on weaknesses, I also focused on strengths – kind of ‘we can do it’ message – which was right for the occasion.

I was aiming to reach out to my colleagues working in remote corners of the country, who were actually spending more time with communities than in meetings. I knew that if I could sensitize them; if I could appeal to them; if I could motivate them - half of my work would be done. Dignitaries including senior officials and board of trustee members were present but they were not my target audience. I had interacted with them earlier too on different platforms. I knew them well enough and was aware that they won’t be affected by my speech. Institutional Change many times comes from bottom up – building from below is the right strategy. Especially, when building from top is more challenging.

As most of my colleagues were more comfortable with Hindi rather than English – I had my slides in English but I spoke in Hindi. I spoke for about half an hour. When it was over, everybody clapped. People appreciated. Some came near me and congratulated. Some patted. Some said, “We knew you would do well” .. ……. .. So many responses.

One of my colleagues, whom I did not know so well, came to me. A group of four to five people joined him on the way. Another group joined. It was as if a crowd was attacking me from all sides. They came from different corners.

One very senior colleague said, “Your speech was excellent.”

I politely said “Thank You” – feeling happy that I have at last reached their heart.

“A real good speech”, added another. Many nodded.

When appreciation pours in, I always know there is some problem. I was waiting to have debate at any moment.

“You know what I liked most about your speech?” another one.

How could I know? I smiled.

“You delivered the speech in perfect Hindi. You never spoke a single English word. That was so beautiful. You have such a command on Hindi – I never knew……”

And they all started praising me for my language skills.

I was completely baffled. I did not know whether to be happy for this unexpected impact or to be sad for having failed in generating expected results.

I had reached no doubt but reached at a wrong corner.

151. Khasi- Garo Kingdom: Part I

2011-11-14T22:53:00.001+05:30

Not long ago, I used to read stories which started with a magical sentence:”Once upon a time there lived a King….” I would have liked to start this post with the same line. But somehow I was in Shillong and though I had no chance of meeting the king, I had missed the opportunity of meeting a Village Head as well. This particular Village Head works as a Librarian in one institute, but due to lack of time, I was not able to interact with him. As the line ‘Once upon a time” always takes me to a strange imaginary land, so were my days in Shillong. The State of Meghalaya is an area which includes Khasi hills, Garo hills and Jaintia hills. There are as many as 17 different tribes in Meghalaya but these three are the major tribes. Shillong the state capital is in Ease Khasi district. I interacted mainly with Khasi people and to some extent Garo people during my week long stay. Hence I use the term “Khasi –Garo Kingdom”.

I had to rush towards Shillong without having time to refer to Wikipedia. I had come here with almost a clean slate. The experience added many new dimensions about Geography, History, General Knowledge, Tribal life and culture as well as Nature. I always prefer learning from fellow human beings than from books. Here there were about 150 people from all seven districts of Meghalaya, who were eager to teach me and answer my queries with lot of patience. This proportion of 150 teachers to 1 student was extremely advantageous for me. I had ample opportunity to ask many questions, so I was not bored at all; and there were many to share the burden of my constant questions.

‘How to reach Shillong’ was the first question I had to deal with. Initially I planned to take direct flight to Shillong. When I talked to an official I was told that one could never be certain about the scheduled flight (from Guwahati to Shillong), so it was better to get down at Guwahati. Guwahati- Shillong distance is about 100 kilometers by road and a vehicle would come and pick me up at Guwahati airport. When we left Guwahati, at Jorbat, while reading shop boards, I felt that something strange was around and I started asking many questions. On the left side of the road, all shops said “Jorbat, Assam” and on the right side of the road, the shops declared “Jorbat, Meghalaya”. So, here too there was the BORDER again!

On our way we stopped at a roadside hotel at Nangpoh and I was enchanted by the beauty of the hill stretched across the road. The hills borrowing the blue tint from the sky were always there around me for the next few days; my association with them grew strong. I became so fond of these hills, that when someone asked me, “What did you most like in Shilling?” - I amused all the people around by saying “the beautiful hills”.

A Khasi woman officer had come to receive me at Guwahati. She told me that Guam means betel- nut. There used to be (and it still is) a big betel nut market in the city – that is why it is named as Guwahati. Here people constantly eat betel leaf with betel nut and lime – this is called “Kowai”. After every couple of hours, people keep on eating it. Men eat Kowai and women to eat Kowai – there is no gender discrimination in Kowai consumption. When people purchase Kowai from unknown shop, a piece of ginger is added into Kowai. The ginger is supposed to act against evil wishes (if any) of the giver. The shopkeeper when sees unknown customers, adds a small piece of ginger without feeling offended, s/he does not at all feel insulted by this custom.

Maybe because people are always consuming Kowai here, they do not talk much. The work goes on peacefully. I had met six people from Meghalaya in one of the training programs earlier – they never talked much there too. One of them said, “Now you know the secret of our silence”. He also added that when they had come to Hyderabad for the above mentioned training, they had come prepared with the stock of Kowais for a week or so. Generally for ten rupees you get ten Kowai. Whosoever purchases it, purchases for all accompanying him or her. I did not see any of them purchasing them individually or paying individual contribution towards it. As the team wanted me to test Kowai, I consumed it on two different occasions. The betel leaf was very strong and within an instant it turned into fiery red. It was indeed difficult for me to consume half betel nut at a time!

Khasi, Garo and Jaintia all are matrilineal communities. That simply means’ girl child’ is not ‘unwanted’ here like most of the other communities, on the contrary they are welcome. However that does not mean that women do not face any problems here. The assets are in the name of women but the practical control is with the brother or maternal uncle – again a man. The youngest daughter of the family gets the right of inheritance – she gets the estate and she had to look after her parents and if any brother remains unmarried. Here daughter does not go to her in laws after marriage, but the son-in-law comes and resides with his in laws. I met two highly educated Khasi women – one has two sons and the other has three sons. Both of them worried about ‘who will take care of us in old age’ – as according to the custom there sons would go and stay with their in laws. Initially I thought they were just joking, but it seems that there was some ingredient of truth in it. Because another woman said, “Not all the girls are youngest daughters. Why don’t you ask your sons to marry eldest daughters? Then they would come and stay with your family.”

The society has different tradition and culture and it does not demand strict relations between marriage and progeny – ‘living in relationship’ is accepted by the society. A 21 year young man living with a young woman with their child is not an uncommon scenario here. It made me re-think about who is backward and who is progressive!! I found different perspectives about this practice though. Those Khasi who never adopted any other religion – they call themselves as ‘Niyaamee Khasi’ - accept this custom as part of their tradition. But those who have been converted (especially those who adopted Christianity) find this immoral – this is what I observed; there might be exceptions to what I have observed.

Generally when I travel to different areas, I understand different languages by context. But here I was not able to catch a single word either from Khasi or Garo. When people around me were speaking those languages, I was to sit like a dumb person. Both these languages have a rich legacy. However Khasi, Garo and Jaintia languages are written in Roman script – they do not have separate script. People say that Khasi language has many Hindi, Bengali and Nepali words – but I could catch only one word i.e. Raastaa (Road).

Ribhoi district of Meghalaya is adjacent to Guwahati (Assam). The language spoken in Reebhoi area is Bhoi which is similar to Khasi (this is my impression, I might be completely wrong) – so some people in Assam can understand Khasi language. Khasi and Jaintia speaking people too understand each other’s languages – but Garo belongs to Bodo language group; which neither Khasi nor Jaintia can speak fluently. Today the dialogue between these language speaking groups is through English. How they used to communicate in the past is a mystery to me.

I tried to learn few sentences in Khasi. “Ngam bam ja” means “I eat rice” and “Ngam lah kren Khasi” means “I cannot speak Khasi”. I cannot say that I have forgotten these sentences, because I hardly learnt them. “Bah” is used (here h is silent) as a synonym to Mister and “Kaung” is used to address women. Yumiap, Thubru, Tengaman …. these names were difficult for me to pronounce and to remember. I am sure when people from this area visit Delhi, Mumbai, Pune (lot of students from Meghalaya study in these cities) they would certainly be facing such difficulties.

Everybody likes to be loved by others – this urge takes various forms – from individual to my village; my community; my religion; my country etc. Whenever we visit new areas, people generally ask, “Did you like our people/our land/our society? What did you like most?” I have been asked this question in Bihar, in Karnataka, in Rajasthan, in Kerala .. everywhere. Shillong was no exception to this.

For me the most fascinating aspect of Shillong (it is unfortunate that in spite of such natural beauty I remember this human behavior!!) was NO HONKING by drivers!! Even when caught in traffic jam, the drivers used to wait without blowing the horn of the vehicle! I asked Gideon (our driver) about not honking. His reply was very simple. He said, “Everybody wants to reach their place, there must be some reason why the traffic is not moving. Why blow horn?” I respected his wisdom. Even on my way from Shillong to Guwahati, there was a traffic jam for couple of hours and hundreds of vehicles were stranded. But nobody was blowing horn. There were police personnel – where they were there because Independence Day was approaching or they are usually there on such occasions – I do not know. I thought of inviting these Shillong drivers to Pune and Delhi so that here people learn to drive without honking. But who knows; instead of Delhi and Pune drivers adopting good practice, the drivers from Shillong might learn the art of and the fun in honking!!

(I have still too many things to share about Shillong. Maybe, I will write another post sometime later!!)

150. Priority Task

2011-11-08T23:04:00.000+05:30

Every time I come home from tour, I prepare a 'To Do' List.
It has many activities - writing a report, downloading photographs, noting down contact numbers, cleaning house etc.
I am used to this. It is a routine for me.

Every time I have to travel, I prepare a 'To Do' List.
It contains many activities - taking printouts of e-tickets, withdrawing money from ATM, noting down contact numbers of the place where I am going, carrying identity card etc.
I am used to this. It is a routine for me.

Even when I am not traveling, I generate a 'To Do' List.

There are office 'To Do Lists' and home 'To Do Lists'.
There are phone 'To Do Lists" and there are writing 'To Do Lists'.
There are reading 'To Do Lists' and there are meeting 'To Do Lists'.
I keep on generating these lists.
I keep on ticking these lists.
I keep on deleting these lists.
By habit.

There are long term tasks and there are immediate tasks.
There are pressing tasks and there are leisurely tasks.
There are mandatory tasks and there are voluntary tasks.
There are joyful tasks and there are burdening tasks.
There are enthusiastic tasks and there are tiring tasks.
There are natural tasks and there are artificial tasks.
There are surprising tasks and there are painful tasks.
There are funny tasks and there are irritating tasks.
There are mad tasks and there are sane tasks.
There are normal tasks and there are not so normal tasks.
There are tasks to be done with others and there are tasks to be completed in isolation.
There are tasks to be made public and there are tasks to be always kept secret, hidden.

Some tasks get done; some take time; some never get done - they keep on reappearing in the lists.

Some tasks even when finished, keep on repeating themsevles; some never get the light of the day; some die; and some I ruthlessly kill.
Some tasks I write on paper and still forget.
Some tasks I note only mentally and never forget.

At times I feel joyous and entertained by what has been done so far and I get motivated by what has not been till done.

At times I wonder how one task generates other tasks and how some aspects of life vanish in thin air.
At times I think why I am doing all this - e.g. writing this blogpost - and I turn around to find another mystery - which makes me forget the first one. I move on without answers, without gains, without achieving anything worthwhile. I keep on moving - from task to task.

At other times I feel bondage of these lists, of the tasks I have to do; of the journey I have yet to make; of the circles I am moving in; of the meaninglessness the chain of activity creates; of the losses I have suffered, of the trap I am caught in.

I wish to throw away this whole burden once again!
I avoid writing it in 'To Do' List - I am not sure whether I am ready for it yet again.
This 'Throw Away' keeps on reappearing on my Task Lists and I am getting weary of it.

However, this one is the ' Top Priority Task'.

149. Game Continues

2011-11-01T23:19:00.002+05:30

“Yes, you are absolutely right,” Maulik says.

“Will you correct it immediately, as soon as possible?” I ask hopefully.

“Well, Madam, why don’t you write me a mail with cc to Mr. G?” Maulik adds in the same breath.

I am confused.

I ask little bluntly without noticing that it is rather rude, “Do you understand what I am saying?”

“Certainly Madam, that is a gross mistake and it needs to be corrected immediately,” Maulik is a good guy. He is soft-speaking person.

“Then just do it man. Why do you need email when I am discussing with you and you are convinced that this job needs to be done? And it is part of your broad job profile – I am not asking anything extra or out of the way.” I am irked at this email business. The correction I want does not involve financial approval from anyone. Why this formality of sending an email?

I am not a software person – in the sense I do not create it. However I use it. For one of our programs Maulik and his team are hired for designing/producing software for us. I know the logic but not the application. We have explained what we want as the ‘end product’ but at every step we find few missing links. Especially when I come back from field areas, I have many suggestions because the software is not working properly. Field testing is a must – I keep on telling myself and others if they chose to listen.

But Maulik insists that I send an email to his boss; then his boss will ‘order’ Maulik and Maulik would ‘’immediately’’ complete the job. I wouldn’t mind doing this if it helps. But Mr. G (Maulik’s boss) is known for not answering emails – I even have doubt whether he reads those! Sending an email to Mr. G and waiting for his response would take at least another week. I know it is of no use.

I call Mr. G. I explain. I say, I will write formally to keep things on record, but it would be good if he tells Maulik to make the correction immediately.

Mr. G is a seasoned manager. He says, “Don’t worry. You just send me an email and I will write to Maulik. It will not take more than 10 minutes.”

I know it will definitely not be done in next two weeks!!

If we are informal, we are more efficient and effective.

If we are formal, we tend to be inefficient and ineffective. Everybody knows this and has experienced this. We complain about this system, when we want to get something done - when we are at the receiving end.

But when the baton comes to us, when we have to deliver, we play the same old game. People for generations continue to play the same game – only the players change, the game continues.

****

148. Label

2011-10-25T19:48:00.000+05:30

I needed new goggles. So, I went to a shop and placed an order.

I know the shopkeeper. The family used to stay in one of my friend’s residential complex and my friend had introduced me to this particular shop. So, we had some pleasantries to exchange.

While leaving, I asked for how many days the shop will remain closed during Deepavalee festival.

To my surprise, the man said, “We are working on all days.”

This was rather unusual. So I asked for more explanation. His wife added, “We work on all 365 days, we are never closed. Even when there is ‘Bharat Band’ call, we work.”

That was astounding. Before I could ask any question, the man elaborated proudly, “To tell you the truth, I have opened this shop nine years ago. And in the last nine years, our shop has never remained closed. We always open at the regular time and work regularly.”

I wanted to speak more on the topic but more customers arrived on the scene and I walked back silently.

How do I label or classify this information?

To run eyeglasses shop does not sound a very exciting profession - but it is useful service and good livelihood. But how can one enjoy it for nine years without break?

Is this family Workaholic?

Do they not have any other things to do in life?

Don’t the husband and wife need some rest, some kind of change? Don’t they get tired of the routine?

Have they not faced any single difficulty in nine years? Say, ill health, traffic problems? (Well, I remembered the women telling me that they stay in the same building where their shop is!)

Do they see work as joy and not as livelihood alone?

What do they gain in the process? Apart from money, I mean.

I realize that I am addicted to classifying information.

I realize that I am used to label information.

Is it not amazing that I do labeling without any break, without rest, without change – constantly? And it is not even my livelihood.

Then why am I surprised when I see someone else doing some kind of work or activity without break?

How should I label myself?

147. Parasite

2011-10-17T00:00:00.001+05:30

Visit to Devaka village in Daman is depressing.

It is a village with beautiful seashore, many hotels and lot of recreation activities. However I did not go there as a tourist, but for work. The purpose of visit always opens another world to me; it exposes me to different reality. After every such visit, I see changes in my perspective - about life, about social situation, about my goal and about so many other things.

We pass a deserted patch and come across many small houses – in a row. Most of the houses are locked but few men come outside to greet us. We start asking questions, they answer. I am watching the area. The houses are not well maintained. The rooms look dingy. I am not sure whether there is electricity and whether tap water is available – I don’t think they have these basic amenities. The men don’t at all notice the stinking smell – they are used to it.

I remember my co-passengers talking about Daman as mini Goa. Lot of fun (and by fun they clearly meant drink), food (especially non-veg) and luxury.

In this small village, there are people from West Bengal, from Odisha, from Bihar, from Jharkhand, from Uttar Pradesh – from every corner of the country. In a small 10X8 feet kind of room at least 8 people stay together. They all work in nearby hotels – they work in different shifts – so the small room could be shared by people in two batches. When one batch is resting, another works and the first batch vacates the room for the second batch when they come “home” from duty. This is sort of “all men” habitat – no women except maybe the local ones – I spend more than half an hour there but I do not see a single woman.

I remember gardens in various towns and cities. I remember constantly watered lawns. I remember my morning walks in lush green Bangalore Golf Course. I remember the two clear blue swimming pools in the Thiruvananthpuram hotel. Life seems to be all green at no cost when I am at such beautiful places. But I forget to ask: how many of us can access these peaceful and beautiful places?

About 350 men do stay here together, they work together, they move together. It is like a family – a family with bonds that are created through work opportunities. Once in a year they visit their native village. They have lost the connection with their land, with their culture, with their people. Their parents, siblings, wife, and children – everybody is there in the native village. They see them only once in a year. They cannot bring them here with them as the space crunch makes the room rents very high. They cannot afford to pay such high rent. Do they feel lonely? I don’t know!

Well, you and me too leave our place and work somewhere else. We too are disconnected. We also seem to have been caught in the same trap. But we are placed in a much better position – we can bargain, we can negotiate – if opportunity comes, we will migrate for better life. We are not here because we do not have options – we actually keep on exploring options.

Their eyes show no dream – there is only desperation to pull on life. They carve out some space to smile to laugh ………but they know it is rare.

My colleagues talk about new job, better salary package, about their ambition, about the competition, about keeping the management happy.

All the theories of urbanization, all the statistics that I have used so far rushes in my mind. To deal with theory, to analyze data is one thing. To face the hopelessness on the faces of so many human beings is very depressing.

Daman is ‘Developed’ – somebody was telling me just yesterday.

I see the other side of development. In-migrants in large numbers are contributing to the local economy – but what do they gain in the process?

I turn, I move. I live. I enjoy. My livelihood seems to enhance quality of my life.

But that does not seem to happen for these people. It seems that they get livelihood. But do they have good life to enjoy that livelihood?

The parasite is going to die one day – because it won’t be able to exploit the tree anymore.

Question is: who is parasite?
Answer is: very clear if I choose to see.

146. Appeal of Despair

2011-10-09T16:44:00.000+05:30

Presently I am reading ‘Boundless Sky’.

It is a collection of representative writings of Gurudeva Rabindranath Tagore. The book is published by Visva Bharati and I have 1964 edition with me. The book contains eight stories, a novel, 14 essays, a drama and as many as 49 poems (why not 50? I don’t know). ‘Boundless Sky’ is title of one of the poems – which is adopted for the collection.

The book is in my collection for more than 20 years and I have read it at least five times during these years. The cost of the book is Rs. 14.50 – but I actually purchased it for one rupee from footpath. The book is obviously worn out and I need a fresh copy. But I don’t throw away this copy; simply because it reminds me of many old things – with which I have lost touch now.

As is my habit, the book has so many lines marked by me during the course of various readings. I also have the habit of writing comments – I do it only when I own the book and never with the books borrowed from library or friends. These underlines and comments show me what I had been thinking in the past – and it always makes me smile.

Today I was reading the essay ‘Religious Education’. Rabindranath elucidates many points in his typically simple and revolutionary way. His writing is logical and it also takes readers beyond the realm of logic. I was enjoying his arguments. The ending of the essay especially awakened me. I was as if taken into another world.

Rabindranath says:

Let me conclude my paper with the translation of a characteristic poem by a Baul poet by the name of Madan whose courage to decry the conventional paths of the pious as leading to spiritual futility is made evident in this song:

Thy path, o Lord, is hidden by mosque and temple:

I hear thine own call, but the guru stops the way.

What gives peace to my mind, sets the world ablaze –

The cult of the One dies in the conflict of the many.

The door to it is closed by many a lock, of Koran,

Puran and the rosary.

Even the way of renunciation is full of tribulation:

Wherefore weeps Madan in despair.

It was like being struck by lightening. How did I not notice these beautiful lines earlier? Why did this despair not touch my heart earlier?

I also registered that not a single line in this essay was marked by me in the earlier readings.

Why did this despair not appeal to me for last 20 years? Was I not open to these feelings earlier? Was there a barrier within me? My ideas regarding religion have never been conventional –so, in a way I am in ‘league’ with the poet. But why did I not belong to it earlier? Why did I fail to recognize these fascinating words?

And what exactly happened today? What caught my attention today? What made me to understand these words today? That is a mystery.

Same is the case with joy, happiness, oneness, expansion.

Maybe, the Truth always exists; it is only when we open ourselves to it, we experience it!

And when we experience, we cannot explain - neither despair nor joy.

145. Lost Privilege

2011-10-03T22:51:00.000+05:30

I could not help in comparing ‘Now and Then’ – a kind of time-frame analysis. That is because I had reached this particular place almost at the same time I had reached years ago.

On material plane, I was as hungry and as tired as I was then.

However it was not exact ‘replay’ of what happened earlier. Certainly, things have changed a lot.

First and foremost, then I was young, now I am old.

Then I did not know where I was reaching, I did not know anyone here, I did not know what to expect and I had nothing to fall back. I was full of uncertainty.

Now I know where I am going, I know people and places here, I know what to expect – rather I have choices about what to do and what to avoid and I have a return ticket back home. I don’t take anything for granted even now (like returning, having a home), but I am certain that I will always find out a way.

Then I was full of doubts, now I am peaceful.

Then I would try to convince people, now I let it go – until they are happy without exploiting others. I don’t try to convert anybody and I am patient enough to listen when somebody tries to ‘convert’ me.

Then I was as if person A; now I am as if person B – there is continuity but also a lot of change.

After reaching years ago, I was offered tea and Parle G biscuits. Today I consume a cup of coffee and as Parle G is not available, I have Britannia 50:50 – that is amazing link with the past within the range of changes.

I move around to my favorite spots and find out the serenity of the place is lost due to typical ‘loud’ behavior of the tourists. I suddenly realize that even then it would have been there – I do notice it now because I have lost some privileges in the process. With that acknowledgement of loss, peace is regained.

One of the old men invites me for lunch. I say yes but I do not go, not even on the second day. I do not feel like going.

“Do you feel shy? Do you feel guilty?” he asks later in the evening.

I am surprised by the question. Why should I feel guilty? Why should I feel shy? I am only trying to keep away myself from irritation- irritation at the way people talk, people assume, people think and people advice.

Then I would have told him the plain truth. Now, I smile. I say, “No, I forgot. Next time I will certainly join you for lunch. ”

“Come back here” someone says.

“Sure, whenever opportunity is there I would certainly make the best of it.” I answer. My goodness, what bookish language I am speaking.

“Come here forever,” he adds hurriedly, “when you have done your work and when you feel lonely.”

I am aghast at the suggestion. These people sitting on self made thrones treat other people with so much of hypocritical compassion. They think there is only one way – theirs!

Like old days, a strong reply comes to me. But I keep quiet. That does not mean I accept what he says, but there is no need to tell him that I disagree. He is happy to have me here listening, so let me listen.

“You know, you are a privileged child; that is why you came here in the first place” another one says.

I completely agree with this sentiment. I have always felt that coming to this place was a turning point, years of privilege shaped me in different way – I am thankful to all those moments, all those people and all those memories.

However, giving up that privilege was my conscious choice. I am glad that I came here and I am glad that I left this place. There was pain while leaving, but now I have overcome the pain. If I had stayed here this long, I might have become a person whom I would have not liked much. That would have been the price greater than the pain and sorrow I went through.

Now I feel free of burden of expectations, of traditions, of norms, of what not – laid down by others. It created horrible bondage for me – worst than the bondage life had caught me in initially.

Every time I re-visit the place, I realize that: What I gave up was worth giving up! I acknowledge that it is one of the greatest places to be at least once in life ……still, after certain time it became worth leaving.

Every time I re-visit the place, I realize that: What I have left back has nothing to contribute in my life!

Every time I re-visit the place, I realize that: What is past should remain as past; never try to turn it into present or future.

Some privileges are better lost.

144. Devotion-less

2011-09-27T00:19:00.001+05:30

I never have been a good devotee. Different people have tried to induce at least a grain of belief in me, and have miserably failed. But without any kind of belief in any kind of sect, religion or God, I have had a cheerful life so far.

However, I like to visit temples, especially when they are not crowded. I like to explore the temples. My creative mind can travel in the past and can see certain things – all assumed of course! I can paint the past and compare it to the present and sometimes there is a difference and some other times there is no difference at all. What amuses me more than the God is people’s perception about that particular God, the astounding stories associated with the spot and the thriving market around it. It is always wonderful to note how common people carry on materialism in one hand and spiritualism in the other. Only they know what happens in the process.

So, the other day when we are entering Karaikal a district town in Puducherry, my colleague tells me about the famous Shiva temple nearby. “Would you like to go there?” he asks enthusiastically. We have lot of work ahead that day and so have started from Puducherry as early as 6.00 in the morning. I do not want to throw cold water on his passion. So as I usually respond to such suggestions, I say, “Let us see how our work progresses. If time permits, we will go.” By experience I know that if I do not strongly say “NO” time always permits!

After different meetings, discussions, visit to four villages, interaction with villagers, discussion on issues and strategies to address that etc, it is 5.30 in the evening. “Madam, shall we go to the temple now?” a village volunteer asks me anxiously. One group of our team does not want to visit the temple so they start off straight towards Puducherry.

The day had been hectic enough and it would take another four hours to reach Puducherry. But I know my colleague wants to take me to the temple. Additional half an hour is not an issue for me. So we go to Thirunallar.

Here I come across a temple which has both Shiva and Shani. I have seen very few Shani temples so far. In Pune there is a Shani temple and I remember to have visited Shani ShingaNaapur. In Delhi to my surprise I have seen many Shani temples. But almost all these temples are surrounded by beggars and ‘differently able’ crowds. For me, Shani temple is associated with sorrow, pain, shattered hopes, dreams and an urge for survival. My memory of Shanimahaatmya is depressing. For this reasons I have instinctively avoided Shani temples so far. On the other hand I have visited many Shiva temples which are generally cool, elegant, and calm. They have always filled my heart with peace.

The temple reveals history of conflict between Jainisim and Shaivism. There was a king and a saint and a miracle involved. The place was also association with King Nala (and Damayantee) who invoked Lord Shani for his mercy and was successful. The devotees say that this is the only place where Shani is in a ‘blessing’ mode and the devotees believe that it is because of Shiva’s existence, Shani is controlled.

If you have visited religious places and studied scriptures and mythology, you know that the Gods are always very human like in their thoughts, ideas, nature and behavior. I think that is the only way human mind can connect itself with God – the known tries to relate with unknown in a typical way.

Well, I like the temple. The architecture is attractive. Before I understand what is happening, I am taken ahead of the queue, a Pooja is fully planned. Here when we break the queue and go ahead, nobody complains. Later I realize that “pay more and have quick darshan’ is the usual practice in most of the temples. I do not like breaking the queue this way – how can someone be more important (and that too because of money or designation) in front of God? That only shows that people do not really believe in God. I never perform Pooja in the temple – but here I am helpless. Well, I could storm out of the temple without doing any of this – but it took me time to understand what was happening. And by the time I understand it, I have as if given my indirect consent by actually participating in it. I am feeling like an illiterate person lost in the library.

The Pooja begins with a little hurdle. The temple priest wants to know my zodiac sign (or whatever it is called) – I say, “I have none”. This makes everybody around speechless. All of them say something in Tamil – which fortunately I do not at all understand. But as I am their guest, they cannot get angry with me. Then the priest asks -which month I was born. For a moment I am tempted to tell a lie – but well, I give the right information. Then my colleague asks me to donate some money – I have kept my purse in the car, so he hands me a note and I put it in the plate. Later I pay that amount to my colleague and he says that because it is for religious purpose, he has to take it from me. Otherwise, I won’t earn the merit of the Pooja. In short I am forced into paying the amount – but I know my young colleague is doing it with good intention.

Then there is some kind of Emerald. I neither understand its significance not any story related to it. It is locked and the priest comes with so many keys and opens lock after lock. A group of devotees is patiently waiting – underlining the importance of this ceremony. Then suddenly few women start singing a devotional song praising Shiva. Though it is a Tamil Song, I know it by heart. I had forgotten it so far but it comes back to me without breaks. Long back I used to listen to this song. Like rest of the devotees I repeat the lines and I feel happy like a child that I can still remember and pronounce those difficult sounding Tamil words.

Well, finally everything gets over. The head priest hands over Prasada to me. In his broken English he assures me that :This place is next to Tirupati Balaajee. Well, I don’t understand how there could be such hierarchy in the community of Gods. Are not they all supposed to be powerful and accommodating enough? Just imagine one God – say for example Shiva here – not happy with me because I did not pray him. Sounds like a human being who is hurt if someone does not salute him/her. Gods are not affected by what I do or what I don’t do. Are they not supposed to be beyond all these mundane feelings?

The priest adds: Whatever you wished here, will come true.

Everybody around me smiles. I too smile. Why ask questions if they are happy with their belief?

“What did you wish for?” my colleague asks me on the way back.

“Oh, if I knew the power of the God in advance, I should have definitely asked for certain things,” I say lightly – that is my usual answer to all strong devotees. That generally satisfies them.

I wonder what I was thinking in the temple. I was certainly not praying, I was not asking for anything. I was just watching the devotion of the devotees – there might be honesty and truth in those devotees, there might be quality longing and urge in that devotion. I was as usual observing; I was as usual trying to understand; I was as usual amazed that so much is unknown to me; I was wondering how the place might have been hundreds of years ago; I was imagining how those people might have been; I was thinking what will happen to this place 500 years down the line; I was thinking how everything emerges- lives and gets destroyed; I was feeling happy with whatever I have knowing that nothing is going to last forever.

The best gift of that devotion-less moment is: Re-establishing of that eternal truth: That my lack of devotion does not affect Lord Shiva and Lord Shani (and other Gods) and it does not affect me as well. We choose to co-exist without demanding, without commanding and we maintain the connection without any apparent give and take.

Well, why do I need devotion?
*

143. Survival ++

2011-09-19T22:34:00.000+05:30

On alternate days, I used to walk to office. It was just a fifteen minutes walking distance. On other days I used two- wheeler to reach the office.

On these walking days, I used to meet Vishal, one of my young colleagues, at the entrance gate. From the gate, it took about five minutes to reach the office. Whenever we met we talked. Slowly, when the comfort level increased, if one of us saw the other behind, we would wait for the other and then walk together. That became an ‘alternate day ritual’ as we named it. Generally we discussed office work, his hobbies, Pune city, visits to field areas, books read etc.

One day he said, “If you don’t mind, I have a question.”

“I hope I know the answer,” I said smilingly. Sometimes talking to young generation makes me feel ‘out of date’! But I don’t mind saying “Sorry I do not know” and hence was ready to answer whatever he wanted. He was sort of technocrat with management degree and not very proficient with softer issues in development. I anticipated some work related question.

“What do you carry in your shoulder bag?” he asked innocently. My office bag is inseparable part of me; I always carry it with me. Occasionally there have been jokes about it. So, at first I felt there was some trick, but he seemed vary serious. Then I laughed with the unexpected turn. I mean here I was waiting to face a very important question and this guy was asking me such a simple one!

Well, every day I carried too many things in my bag – home to office and back home. I sincerely tried to think. Why did I carry this bag? What was there in my bag?

Office Identity card to swipe in and out was essential.

Vehicle license was essential in case I decided to go somewhere out after office hours. Now, when I was walking, it was not necessary. But taking things out of bag and putting those again next day meant unnecessary work. So, it was always there.

Then there were two or three pens. Why two or three? Because someone around would always be without a pen and would ask me if I had extra pen and would borrow it from me. I am used to keep stock of pens as those who borrow pen would certainly forget to return it.

In addition to it, there was a pencil. What for? For marking some important points while reading various documents.

Then there would be money purse. Of course with some money in it! You never know what amount you will have to spend – so the ATM card was part of the kitty. And so was cheque book. You never know when it will be needed.

Then there were some blank papers – of different sizes – to write notes, messages, task lists, phone numbers etc. There were always needed in meetings. The pocket telephone diary; as I have not stored all the numbers in the mobile handset.

I also had some office documents – which I used to take home for reading and working. Similarly some printout taken at home was brought to office for filing, sharing, review etc.

Then there would also be a book – in case I needed to wait for someone (delay in appointments) at his/her office. Many people have this habit of spending lot of time on their mobile even when someone is sitting in front of them. Instead of getting irritated, I read something on such occasions.

In addition to it, there were home keys, office keys and vehicle keys. Some bills to be submitted would also be there. So would be the digital camera to download work related photographs on the office PC. There also was a pen drive, a CD.

And so on. I realized that I carried too many things in the bag assuming the daily need but most of them I hardly used everyday. I assumed a range of activities every day, but I certainly carried on very limited activities on a given day. Somehow, I had trained myself to be ready for any situation that demanded various resources. I feel responsible for the surroundings, for the people around me. This habit had certainly saved me from some awkward situations and always made me ‘resourceful’ person.

While explaining this list to Vishal, I too saw the lighter side of it and started laughing with him.

For the first time I realized that I never have seen Vishal with any office bag. He came to office empty handed and he left office empty handed.

“Well, now I want to ask you a question,” I said to Vishal.

“Yep, I know, now you are going to ask me why I do not to carry such a hold-all to the office, am I right?”

Vishal was smart, I smilingly nodded.

Vishal reflected a bit and then pronounced – “I keep office life and home life separate. I do not carry anything from office to home and the other way, unless that is absolutely necessary. Is it not the responsibility of all others to bring in whatever they need e.g. pen or paper? I carry only the swipe card – without which I won’t be able to enter in and out of the office. Rest of the stuff I need in the office, I keep it in the office. I do not take office work at home.”

Personal and Professional - well I know about it. I admire people who can live in such a segregated way. It must have its advantages. However, I have never been able to keep these two identities apart. For me, my work is expression of my interests and my values; my work reflects my personality – good or bad there could be debate about it. Like Yin and Yang, personal life flows into professional and professional life influences the personal. The co-existence of personal and professional life is absolutely essential to peace, harmony and happiness. If in one area I have trouble – I have trouble in both. If I am glad in one sphere, I carry the joy in the other sphere too. How can I be unhappy at one place and happy in the other sphere?

I am not sure whether it is right or wrong, but people like me need more of integration, synthesis rather than segregation, division. We are at our best when we are one across the sphere of activities. People like me feel good when we belong to, when we can contribute, when there are bridges of relationships. There are always people who are sensible as well as sensitive, they would volunteer for any kind of work and any amount of work - it is fun to team with such people. Though detachment, delegation of responsibilities, and withdrawal also happen – it is done as a process and not as 'the' outcome. They happen in its own way and independent style. Every time it happens, one changes, one wonders, one reflects, one grows. The process of withdrawal is initiated separately for each of the steps that professional (as well as personal) life brings across. Doing it in bulk, doing it hypothetically does not work. This part by part process builds the magnificent Whole.

I shared these thoughts with Vishal. He laughed and said, “You are indeed so old fashioned. The world is changing, with this kind of attitude you will not survive in this world. You need to have a paradigm shift to have better prospects in your career.”

Well, to be frank, this is one of the areas where I have not yet changed. I don’t think I need that kind of change. Why should I worry about few more ‘Professional years’ ahead? Till now, I have survived on my terms; there is of course, much more than just survival.

Even if you are ‘segregating’ type, you will agree that in both Personal and Professional life, we aim beyond survival. The feeling of attainment is much broader, wider and deeper than survival and we all seek that kind of joy. Life actually offers us many opportunities. I fear Vishal was still too young to have experienced it: If you don’t survive at one place, don’t be worried. There are other times and other places, where you not only survive but blossom. You will have the satisfaction of having crossed the limits, the boundaries of survival.

It is Survival ++.

142. 'BAT'ing For......

2011-09-10T22:41:00.000+05:30

Regular readers of Times Change are aware of Blog -a -Ton (BAT) - in which I have been participating for almost 2 years now. My first BAT post happened to be on 5 September 2009.

By nature I am not a competitive person, so many of my friends raised eyebrows when they read my Blog-a-Ton (BAT) entries. What surprised me was: many readers who do not know me personally (and know only through blog ) asked me why did I participate in such blogging competition. Well, I have answered all of them and probably they were satisfied with the answer - or they just gave up - who knows?

BAT invites 'Veteran' (those who have participated in more than 10 BATs) bloggers to share their experience. The Marshal (yes, BAT has all its aura ...) invited me to share my experience. When I am requested, I generally don't say no. So, I wrote a post for Blog - a - Ton.

I thought readers of this blog might like to read the post; here it is.

************
It was in September 2009, that I came across Blog a Ton (BAT). I am a member of IndiBlogger and I came across the information of BAT through IndiVine. The first BAT was conducted in August and the second one was announced. I decided to participate in BAT.

For me participating in BAT was indeed a challenge in many ways.

First, I was very new to blog-world. I was blogging about a year. None of my friends or people around me read any other blog; leave writing one. But my friends and colleagues at workplace read whatever I wrote and encouraged me to write more about my experiences. So, my blog was a sort of ‘family affair’. I was not sure whether my blog would appeal to ‘outsiders’ – meaning those who do not know me personally.

Secondly, those of who read my blog beyond BAT entries (I hope some at least read it) know that my blog is mostly narrations of my experiences. I don’t write scholarly articles; neither do I write movie or book reviews; nor poetry. My writing range is indeed limited. So, whether I would be able to write on different topics and satisfy the unknown readers was a question to me.

Third, I have always believed in freedom of writers. My blog should be a place where I have complete freedom about what to write, when to write, how to write, and whether to write it or not. Accepting BAT terms was little contradictory to these values. I mean I was still free to ‘not to write’ and I could still choose the form of expression. But the topic of BAT though decided in democratic manner – was not always of my choice. It was like writing according to someone else’s command.

Fourth – my travel schedule did not allow me the luxury of 24X7 connectivity. It was not necessary that on every first Saturday (that was the initial regular schedule of BAT) I could post for BAT. But here the Marshal came with support. On many occasions I have scheduled my post and requested Vipul, the Marshal to publish the link on the BAT date – and he always did it.

Fifth: I am actually not a competitive person. If you are reading my blog regularly, you know that I do not participate in any kind of competitions – that does not mean I doubt intention of those who participate in various blogging competitions. I am not cut for it – that is all.

In spite of all these obstacles, I have till date participated in as many as 18 BATs. My blog has ‘Blog a Ton’ as one of the labels and it shows 19 posts – but the post RETURN, though written for BAT, could not be published due to technical reasons.

Honestly speaking, I have never felt competition in BAT – though it has clear voting (now cheers) guidelines and deadlines and clear winners. I have almost always read all the BAT entries and I am sure most of the ‘BAT’ers do it. For me the most creative aspect of human thinking is brought to the forefront through BAT. It amazes me every time I BAT to see how a single word creates so many different ideas, so many different perspectives, so many different forms, so many different expressions, and so many different feelings. The whole canvas of writing opens to you, you get to know a range of experiences. That is the reason I love BAT.

BAT balances discipline and freedom – you need to post during a timeline on a particular topic but you are free to choose the form, the tone, the presentation etc. As my blog is mostly about sharing experiences, after couple of BATs I started to feel the bondage. Then I came up with an idea. I had always wanted to write short story but had never explored it. BAT gave me an opportunity to work in this direction. Though my short stories are always long enough, I have enjoyed writing those stories. The whole gamut of experiences could be woven together through story. And then for me BAT became a Story Writing Challenge. Except for four posts - Teachers Aaja Kal, The Indian Dream, If I were a Baby Again and Pencil Pull, - I have always written stories. It is because of BAT, that I started writing a story. Good or Bad – does not matter!

Through BAT I came across many new blogs and of course good ones and many virtual friends. I follow some of these blogs regularly. I interact with some of the bloggers whom I have never met. It is another matter that the old batch of ‘BAT’ers is disappearing – they must have valid reasons to make such a conscious choice. But nevertheless, the whole new batch of fellow bloggers comes in. I enjoy the flow, I like the movement, I love reading new styles and new expressions. This flow of ‘BAT’ers does not allow me to take anyone for granted. That is great. It mirrors real life.

Like most of the writers I do enjoy appreciation and feel happy when readers take notice of my post. But somehow, I have never bothered about votes and cheers. Initially I thought of writing “Please do not vote” as a footnote to my BAT posts – but that would have sounded like a very egoist declaration. And anyways, I realized that very few people were actually voting for my post- so dropped that ridiculous idea.

I do not bother about votes for three reasons. One: I am grown up enough to have crossed these boundaries of success and failure. Two: somewhere within I know that I am not a great writer as yet. I have a long way to go. Three: I trust ‘BAT’ers for their fairness. I am sure if they like my post the best, they will cheer for me, if they don’t they won’t. If I don’t get cheers means I still need to excel my performance. The credit goes to all ‘BAT’ers who have maintained this ‘fair play’ rule intact – voluntarily.

For me, BAT is more of ‘support group’ rather than a competition. We all strive together to excel. We all work hard to express. We all long to reach out, but more than that we all long to search within. The beauty of BAT is: it is more like a long distance running and not sprint. Here we run together, draw energy and inspiration from each other, encourage each other. In the end, only one or two are going to be winners, but there is always a joy that “I tried my best once again.”

So, even after 18 innings, I am not tired. I would love to keep ‘BAT’ing – for the joy it gives, for the horizons it widens, for the challenge it brings, for the variety it presents and for the fun it assures.

Link to all the BAT posts:

http://thistimethattime.blogspot.com/search/label/Blog%20-a%20-Ton

141. Raamaleelaa Maidaana: 28 August 2011

2011-09-03T12:01:00.000+05:30

Year: 1987. Place: RaaLegaNa Siddhee, a small village in Maharashtra. Even then Shree ANNaa Hajare was very famous, though not surrounded by media – like he is today. During this year I had opportunity to meet ANNaa many times. We wanted to organize a Youth Camp in his village. I went to RaaLegaNa for getting permission, then couple of visits for the preparation of the camp and then stayed there for eight days along with the youth participants. I met ANNaa a number of times during that period. He was in RaaLegaNa during that week. Everyday he used to interact with the participants for an hour or so. He was always there – around us, and even when we had a trivial problem he was there for us. I could go to him anytime and talk at leisure. He was soft, kind, never raising his voice and never looking irritated. He always listened to people with calm and peace. He did not carry the aura of “I know All’ or “I have done lot of work” – which would have been obvious for him given his name and fame then. However at the same time he unmistakably conveyed that he was not the kind of man to easily surrender, he was not the one who feared obstacles.

We stayed in RaaLegaNa like pampered children. Actually we were so young and had not done anything substantial in life, but ANNaa looked after us. He won the hearts of all youngsters in our camp by his simplicity, his renunciation, his softness and his work. Generally I do not touch anyone’s feet, but as I remember, while leaving RaaLegaNa, I saluted ANNaa in traditional way.

*****

Year: 2011. Place: New Delhi. It is morning of Sunday, 28^th August. Naturally, the attention of the entire nation is here today. Media has already brought the news to the nooks and corners that ANNaa Hajaare is breaking his fast at 10.00. The crowd wants to observe this historic moment as closely as possible. In the search of front rows, people have gathered very early here in Raamaleelaa Maidaana. Last Saturday, I had spent about half in hour in queue, to avoid it; I am here very early in the morning.

New Delhi Metro Station is not much crowded – not as I expected. There are people – mainly passengers reaching Delhi. Outside the station, in Kamala Market area, city buses are ready to go. New passengers have a confused look about which bus to take. The scene is like any other railway station in any other city on a normal day. For a moment I think that I have alighted down at a wrong metro station. But next moment, I see young children and women selling Gandhi topee and tri-color in various shapes and sizes. They are aware that ANNaa is going to break fast; they are in a hurry to sell whatever stock they have. The road is full of food vendors. If someone does not know about India Against Corruption (IAC) campaign, one would be tempted to think that there is some kind of political rally.

Last Saturday, I had to be in queue for about half an hour, so even though it is Sunday, I have reached here rather early. Fortunately I enter the venue just within five minutes. Half of the ground is still muddy. So when I read next day the crowd estimates, I realize how media exaggerates – in good moments as well as in bad moments. Only when one is physically present during such events, one can understand the exaggeration.

Raamaleelaa ground is large enough- so even when it is half filled at eight in the morning, I am sure there are thousands of people. When I am trying to find a spot, I am told that there is a separate sitting arrangement for women. I think this arrangement would save me from being pushed by men in the crowd – however when ANNaa appears on the stage, the crowd erupts with emotions and the bamboo barricade between men’s section and women’s section is brought down and I have to face the pulls and pushes of the crowd. But it is to happen about an hour later.

The atmosphere is highly charged with patriotic emotions. Patriotic songs, slogans and the tri color make it very exciting. Volunteers are at their best initially – if someone stands, they immediately approach and request the person to sit down. The crowd seems to be self-disciplined at the beginning. But now a days people are not used to 'cross legged' sitting. So around nine, people start to express their restlessness. When the television cameras move towards crowds; all the discipline disappears within a moment. The next hour is to show me how women and men crave for ‘two minute’s fame’. The way women push each other (I am sure men did the same too) to capture the attention of cameramen, is disgusting. They are dancing, shouting slogans and trying to speak in the microphone. When the drinking water pouch (of course free) arrives on the scene, it almost creates a stampede. Whatever maybe the event, people cannot easily overcome their selfishness. It was only the beginning of the madness of the crowds.

When Anna appears on the stage; the crowd becomes uncontrollable. It is a moment which tells me that ‘Jana Sansada’ (Parliament of People) would be as good and bad as ‘Sansada’ (Parliament of elected representatives). Some of us are trying to tell others, “Please, sit down, from this distance we cannot see Anna clearly, but if we all sit down, we can at least have a glimpse of the stage”- but to no avail. The crowd exhibits typical Indian mentality – ‘if she is not sitting down, why should I?’ – is the question every one of them asks. Nobody realizes that we need to follow rules even when others are not following, we need to set example, and we need to do certain things not because others demand but because we believe in it as core value of life. Even if strong Lokpal bill is passed, there is no guarantee that such people would not bribe and try to get undue benefits. While watching the people around, I felt extremely desolated.

Mr. Arvind Kejariwal begins his speech by ‘thanks giving’. In the last few months, I have read a lot about him and I am eager to listen to him. However, I am completely disillusioned. I mean even if I don’t like I can understand ‘Thanking Media’. But when Mr. Kejariwal said: “We thank Delhi Police. Some of them were on duty in uniform during the day and the in the evening after their duty was over, they joined us.” (Not exactly in these words, but meaning almost the same). I think Mr. Kejariwal is bit immature in declaring this. I hope those police personnel do not have to face internal inquiry!

Everybody seems to have forgotten those 30 persons who are also fasting at Raamaleelaa with ANNaa. Leave informing the crowds about the names of these 30 persons and appreciating them – at the last moment they are mentioned collectively and hurriedly (my guess is it happened when someone reminded Mr. Kejariwal about them). It is said that heroes are forgotten by later generations, but here they are invisible even in the present. The clarification that “we never said all political leaders are bad’ is amusing. That the IAC team had shared the stage on the earlier evening with few political leaders gave a clear signal about the change of mind of IAC team.

Mr. Kejariwal appeals the crowds to ‘gather at India Gate in the evening to celebrate’ – I am smiling at that. What victory? Whose victory? I think Mr. Kejariwal declared this due to the habit of last 11 days. Otherwise both Mr. Kejariwal and Ms. Bedi know fully well how the power circle in Delhi works. If I say that they do not understand the meaning of process in the last 4-5 days, I would doubt their intellectual capacity.

The crowds are mostly relieved that ANNaa is finally breaking fast. I wish colleagues of ANNaa had the opportunity to listen to the voices of the crowds. Amongst themselves people are discussing the whole issue and the common feeling expressed and agreed to is: Good that ANNaa finally is breaking his fast. Otherwise the ambitious people around him might have killed him. One person even said,” It is good that ANNaa finally realized that whether Lokpal bill is passed or not; there is no point in giving life for phaltu (useless) people like us.” Actually I feel that the issue of corruption, Lokpal are not on people’ mind there – there is only concern about ANNaa’s health. Some people are happy to find out that ANNaa is speaking with youth like energy and others are surprised at that.

For ANNaa’s ‘break fast’ two young girls – Simarn and Ikrah are invited on the stage. Mr. Kejariwal takes pains to tell Media that Simarn comes from Dalit family and Ikrah lives in Turkman Gate area in Delhi (meaning: she is Muslim). I am aghast that the IAC campaign is ‘using’ seven year innocent kids in this way. Till then I had known only politicians using caste and religion as identities to show their ‘mass base’. Do these kids know: what is corruption? What is Parliament? What is a Bill? What is Jan Lokpal? They are too young to know and they are not responsible for the mess created by adults in the society. Mentioning Dr. Ambedkar to reach out to Dalit communities is again a political trick. Does IAC mean that Dr. Ambedkar belongs only to Dalits? Let us stop assuming that Dalit are fools and they can be made happy by just mentioning Dr. Ambedkar’s name! During that morning I see an illustration of how people (movements, campaigns) compromise when they try to establish claims of representation and numbers!

The crowd is so chaotic that neither the volunteers nor Mr. Kejariwal can control it. Mr. Kejariwal has to say: “If you do not keep quiet, ANNaa will continue his fast. He was fasting for last many days; he can fast for few more hours.” The statement shows how helpless Mr. Kejariwal is and what kind of ‘supporters’ have gathered there! So, some people do not capture the moment of ANNaa breaking his fast. Even after ANNaa’s speech is over, people are asking, “but when is he going to break his fast?”

ANNaa’s speech is extensively covered by Media, so I am not going to repeat it here. While ANNaa is speaking crowds are moving out of the pendal and they are replaced by new groups coming in. Some of those who are moving out , are turning to queues – one for ANNaa kee Rasoi (where free food is distributed) and other for ANNaa kee mupht chai (where free tea is distributed). I am wondering about the idea – when masses are coming to support ‘fasting for cause’, what is the point in providing ‘free tea and food’ for them? These supporters are not interested in the next steps of the campaign, the future direction and strategies of the movement. They are engaged in slogans –the louder, the better! I see most people – either slogan-ing, on their mobile phones, weaving tri-color, talking with friends, taking snaps – I wonder who is listening to ANNaa. I am pushed backward by the crowd and by the time ANNaa finishes his speech I am at the rear end of the pendal.

I realize that ANNaa did not say ‘Vande Maataram’ even once in his speech. During his Jantar Mantar fast in April, one evening I met a group of Muslim youths who were chanting Vande Maataram. I spoke to the group about it and they said,” Hama bhee to isa mittee se pale hue hai” (we too are brought up by this land!) – I still remember their fervor and their conviction. Equating Vande Maataram with a group of Hindus and avoiding to say Vande Maatarm to appease other group – is it a good strategy? By such act, we are pushing youths in the control of religious fanaticism- which is equally dangerous as corruption. In this way, the youth enthusiasm will die even before it strengthens.

******

Whether the person I met in RaaLegaNa Siddhee twenty five years ago is the same? Or has ANNaa changed – I keep on asking myself. In some ways, he remains unchanged. Simple, soft speaking, determined, naïve, ready to renounce his comforts (and his life in this case) for others, facing opposition with sternness. These are ANNaa’s qualities – many of us revere him for that. I find no reason to disagree.

However, there is also 'other' ANNaa emerging. Surrounded by the camera, away from people, the man sitting on the stage seems different. ANNaa: who accepts ‘I am ANNaa’ printed on caps and T shirts; who allows his photograph to be printed in the middle of tri-color on T Shirts; who calmly listens to the song eulogizing him; who is sharing stage with people who are accused of corruption (I know they were representing government, so what?); once he used to speak a lot about how he was inspired by Swami Vivekananda – today he does not mention him. Why? I feel that this ANNaa in the midst of thousands of people is a strange person, I do not know him. Whatever relationship I had with him and with his cause, and which I had nurtured, is destroyed in a moment. I feel completely away from him.

I need to go to RaaLegaNa again. In 1987 I asked him many questions; I would ask him all these questions again. I hope as in 1987, he would answer me calmly, thoughtfully and with smile. Before this dialogue happens, I should not change my opinion about ANNaa. The person is at her/his best where s/he is rooted. Raamaleelaa Maidaana and the crowds are not the best times and place to find that old ANNaa again!

140. Significant

2011-08-28T21:11:00.000+05:30

After returning from any office travel, one of the important tasks is to clean the papers. Some of the papers need to be thrown away and some need to be preserved for future use. After a week- long travel, today evening I was engaged in this routine task and I came across an envelope. This envelope had remained unopened for a considerable period. This particular envelope was given to me by an Institute, a very prestigious Institute in the country.

This renowned Institute had invited me as a guest speaker. I was very busy that week – had returned from North East and had plans to travel the next two weeks - first to Uttarakhand and then to Andhra Pradesh. So, I needed some time for myself, for documentation, for preparation. When my reporting officer called me to ask whether I could go to deliver this lecture, I was for a moment going to say NO. However, I have been always lucky enough to have reporting officers, who never order me. They generally ask me politely whether it is possible for me to take on additional workload and I almost every time end up in taking that. One of my friends says that, “This is the management skill. They know that if they force you, you will rebel, but if given choice, you will take on additional responsibilities.” I am not sure whether my friend is right, but yes, I like to be treated with dignity. And I reciprocate such gift in my own way.

So, I prepared on Sunday, traveled on Monday evening, did the job on Tuesday and returned same evening. It was a mixed experience. The place was a beauty, to be near Himalaya is a luxury and I fully enjoyed that. This was an opportunity to learn about the Institute and I was overwhelmed by the aura of the place. The speech was received well by some and had good interaction with the audience. Overall, it was work –cum- break and I loved that.

This particular envelope was given to me along with memento at the end of my speech. In the rush of other activities I had not opened it.

I open it, read it and it irks me. The letter says:

*******************************

Logo of the Institute Address of the Institute

Dear Ms. ……….

It was indeed a great pleasure having you with us at the ……………… to deliver a talk to the Officer Trainees of the ……………………

Your talk was extremely well received and the trainees appreciated the issues and points highlighted by you during the session. On behalf of the …………….. I would like to take this opportunity to thank you for having taken time off from your busy schedule to visit ……………….

I hope you enjoyed visiting the ……………. I wish that your association with the …………….continues in the future as well.

Regards,

………………

****************

If my guess is right, you are wondering why I am irritated with such a nice letter.

Let me share some more facts with you.

1. I never met the person who signed the letter, we talked on the phone and that was all.

2. The person never attended my speech, so there was no point in she giving the feedback that the trainees appreciated the issues etc.

3. The letter was handed over to me immediately after my speech. That means the content of the letter was written even before I had delivered the speech.

4. This means that this is a standard letter – irrespective of the quality of my content and delivery. Even if it was worst speech of my life, the Institute blindly certifies me!

5. Why does the institute think (howsoever renowned it might be) that I need a certificate by someone who never listened to me?

I can’t help thinking:

Why are we so formal? Why are we so dishonest? Why are we so artificial?

Why are we so dispassionate about the work we do? Without participating in it, how can we act as if we have participated?

Why do we appreciate others without meaning it? Why do we need appreciation by others? Do people remain associated because there is some paper which expresses the wish to remain associated?

Why do people sign the paper for the activity in which they did not participate? Why can’t they just delegate it? I do not mind such a letter from one of the persons who attended my speech – though probably it still might be dishonest and formal!

Why are we more for records than feelings? What if the Institute never gave me this letter – would it change my experience? Would it lessen my joy of being there?

I know it is just a formality. It is a routine for them and I also should treat it as one of the insignificant matters of life and ignore it.

My problem is: there are too many insignificant things in life, and if I keep on ignoring everything, one day I might find that my whole life was insignificant.

If I am involved in any act, for me at least is should be fully significant – no matter what others think about it. Life is all about bringing in significance to whatever we do, or better leave it. Life is actually an art of making insignificant more significant.

Life becomes significant only by involving oneself in this never ending process.

139. Divided: Still Growing Strong

2011-08-21T13:13:00.000+05:30

The Nation is divided once again.

However, there is nothing to be worried about it.

We always have been a Nation with multiple views and cross-cutting perspectives. When was it last that we were united?

During many incidences of bomb blasts? Post- riots? Kosi floods? Nakshalite attacks? Tsunami? Earthquakes? Pokharan? During emergency? Post emergency? During freedom and partition in 1947? During 1942 “Chale Jao” movement? During 1905 when Bengal was partitioned? In 1857? During Shivaji’s time? During Rana Pratap’s time? Gautam Buddha? Shankaracharya? Shirkrishna? Ram? Upanishadic seers? Indus Valley Civilization? Arya rule? When?

Consider any kind of social reforms, educational reform, political reform or religious reform – the existing society always seems to have divided opinion. Look at any historical movement, and the Nation/the society is divided, never united 100 percent. Every time a person or a group of persons put forth some new idea, they were ignored, ridiculed, opposed and threatened – not necessarily in this order! The great souls, the leaders carry it on until their ideas; their thoughts are accepted by larger society. Some of them die alone and their ideas are accepted long after they pass away. So, no point in expecting that on an issue like corruption, there would be total agreement.

For the last few months, the topic of discussion is India Against Corruption (IAC) campaign. To be brief, the topic of discussion is ANNaa Hajaare. Many of my friends from Maharashtra feel that since Delhi is the center of the movement (meaning ANNaa is fasting in Delhi), and I am presently in Delhi, I must be participating in that. On the other hand, those from Delhi who know me, think that as ANNaa Hajare is from Maharashtra, I must be attending all those events. (I don’t know whether they expect all from Haryana to participate because Mr. Arvind Kejariwal happens to be born and brought up in Haryana!) Out of 10 conversations these days, I find myself either listening or speaking about IAC campaign 13 times! I say 13 times, because we keep on repeating ourselves!

****

I am going to Raamaleelaa Maidaana– where team Anna is on indefinite fast demanding Jan Lokpal bill. The New Delhi Metro Station is throbbed with hundreds and thousands of people, all going to Raamaleelaa Maidaana. There are people and people everywhere. Metro has deployed additional person power to manage the flow, and they are doing well. People are chanting slogans in Metro station – a rather unusual scenario. Actually the crowd leads me to the right exit gate in the station. After coming out of the station, the crowd leads me to Raamaleelaa Maidaana. People greet each other with ‘Vande Maataram” and ‘Inquilab Zindabad’. All roads seem to be leading to Raamaleelaa Maidaana.

However, I am just coming from Connaught Place. The Rajeev Chauk Metro station has hundreds and thousand of people – coming in and going out. They are least bothered about corruption and IAC campaign. I walk through Connaught Place for half an hour. I see hundreds and thousands of youth and adults roaming around the shopping place. Their dilemmas are different – whether to go to McDonalds or Subways, whether to have cold coffee with ice-cream or milk shakes with ice cream; whether to purchase Sony laptop or Reebok shoes. They all are Indians, but IAC is not on their agenda. I ask couple of them about the proposed IAC march from K block to Raamaleelaa Maidaana and they plead complete ignorance about it.

****

Towards Raamaleelaa Maidaana. On the roadside, there are Tri-colors for sale – in various shapes and sizes. There are wristbands, there are badges, there are small flags, there are big flags, there are pieces which one can put around neck, and there are hair bands. There are Gandhi Topees (it should be actually called Nehru topee) – “I am Anna” written on it. People purchase it. The children and the women are happy with this opportunity. Whether India is corruption free or not, they are earning some money for the time being. It is like any other religious festival or political rally for those who are selling. They sell what sells. They have only this option to earn two meals a day.

One has to stand in a queue to enter into the ground. In April at Jantar Mantar it was much easier; one could just go in and come out. But here, the police protection is geared up to next level. There is a baggage screening and personal security check. It is better to take care in advance than lament later. Security check has become part and parcel of our life – but it is for our safety, so everybody cooperates with police.

Some people do not have patience. They break the queue and move forward. Some of us remind them that this is too is a kind of corruption. They smile but nevertheless keep their newly gained position. Someone else says, “Ok, let them go first. Does not matter.” Well, will these kinds of supporters – some who bully around and others who meekly accept will be able to stand the ideology of IAC? I doubt. For that matter, what is the ideology of IAC beyond Jan Lokpal bill? I need to explore that.

In the ground I see three young girls and two young boys pulling big plastic bags from their purse. They start picking up the garbage. I ask them whether they are IAC volunteers. They are not official volunteers but they think that spreading garbage here is bad. So they try to keep the place clean in their own way – by their own will. I like the self motivation of these youngsters.

I see another queue. What is it for? It seems that someone is distributing biscuit packs. People stand there; they want one more biscuit pack. Are these the same people who are supposed to be fighting corruption? Distribution of free water I can understand, but distribution of free biscuits? What for?

***

After few hours I am out of Raamaleelaa Maidaana. I go to a Food Plaza to have a cup of coffee. The café is crowded. I see two women sitting together and there are two empty chairs. I ask their permission and join them. I ask them, “Have you been to Raamaleelaa Maidaana too?” “Oh, No,” they laugh and say. The mother shrugs her shoulders and says, “Maybe one day I would go.” And she asks me, “Is it interesting?” What does she mean by interesting, I do not know. I smile. The young daughter says, “People with no other work to do have time to visit, I am busy.” Then realizing that I have been there, she keeps quiet.

To the woman on the café counter, I say, “So, how is it going?” Certainly it was a vague question. She beamingly says, “This is good for our business.” I smile not knowing what to say on that honest remark.

***

So, there are people – with different perceptions and different priorities. There are people – with different opinions and different affiliations. There are people – with different expectations and different dreams. There are people – with different involvement and different level of responsiveness. There are people – with different understanding and different readiness to take responsibilities.

On one hand it seems that IAC campaign has not moved from where it was in April. What IAC does also triggers different criticism. There is a discussion about sovereignty of parliament, democratic processes and role and identity of civil society.

Well, if you count support only by numbers: that would be a mistake. Presently both IAC supporters and IAC critics are trying to quote different numbers. For example, IAC quotes number of missed calls and number of people who join the protests. But they forget that giving ‘missed call’ is as free as breathing air and people come to protest venue for limited time – like I was there only for few hours. That does not guarantee my commitment. IAC critiques say that this is only middle class movement and weaker sections are away from it. But they forget that change always triggers with the involvement of very few to begin with. If only one person is convinced, and s/he has no crowd to support does not necessarily mean that the person is wrong – maybe s/he is just ahead of time!

With all these, I see that the campaign is becoming strong. That the campaign has sustained to keep the issue in mainstream for six moths at a stretch is itself an achievement. That large number of youths and adults are taking time to participate (maybe just for few hours) is itself an achievement. That we take pride in carrying the tri-color is an achievement. That we see young generation taking charge to guide traffic and help others is a big change. In a mass gathering there are no vulgar dances is an achievement. Beyond 15^th August and 26^th January, people remember India is an achievement. People seriously discuss issues like sovereignty of parliament, role of parliament, role of civil society, self discipline is an achievement. Some people feel that they have a space to contribute is an achievement.

That some of the Indians are raising the voice against the method of IAC and others are accepting to listen to their views without labeling them as traitors is an achievement. It shows that we are ready to respect other perspective – even if we may not like it.

Well, I see that India is growing strong, even if we are divided.

***
You may also like to read http://thistimethattime.blogspot.com/2011/04/125-evenings-jantar-mantar.html, Wrong Choice

138. Free

2011-08-15T00:03:00.001+05:30

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 23; the twenty-third edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for this month is FREE.

(1)

‘Freedom is not Free, it demands high price; those who pay the price only are FREE’, KaNikaa is thinking to herself. She knows why she is thinking so.

KaNikaa finds the words written by Shankaraachaarya very precious and most wonderful; they always take her Beyond. Especially when the sun sets down, one more day is over -keeping the enigma of life unsolved, listening to NirvaaNaSHaTakam is an ultimate luxury.

KaNikaa feels at complete peace once again. Sitting in the lap of peeple tree, with the breeze playing around her and the sea waves dancing to the unknown tune, she is feeling ONE with the Universe.

Slowly the lights fade away, the darkness envelopes the surrounding. No words spoken; only silence everywhere – within and without. As if the world has died, as if the world is going to be created again….

For a moment KaNikaa thinks she is completely free.

****

(2)

“Deedee, KaNikaa Deedee, Vishwambhara bhayaa wants to speak to you,” someone is calling KaNikaa. She comes back to her senses. Call from Vishwambhara could mean only one thing, another warning. This could probably be the last one. KaNikaa gets up with heavy heart, all the peace and the happiness draining away from her.

“KaNikaa Deedee, you have missed the prayer again. Not because you were working, but because you were just lazing around. This would not do. You are setting a wrong example to young disciples.” Vishwambhara speaks calmly.

“Come on Vishwambhara; can this discussion not happen some other time? Is this discussion at all necessary? KaNikaa came here long before you all came, Swaameejee himself brought her here. Swaameejee never asked KaNikaa any questions, neither he demanded her to follow rules" ANNaajee is trying to help KaNikaa, but he actually is making things worse for her.

“ANNaajee, how many times I have to tell you ALL that I have nothing against KaNikaa Deedee!, In fact I respect her, I have learnt a lot from her. Swaameejee was a very kind person. I am neither so kind, nor that much powerful. To manage this Aashrama in the best possible way is my primary responsibility.” Vishwambhara’s voice is restrained, but KaNikaa understands the threat very clearly.

“No problem, Vishwambhara, I understand your plight, I will do whatever is required in the best interest of Aashrama”, KaNikaa says calmly. That alarms Vishwambhara as well as ANNaajee. But today, Vishwambhara is determined. KaNikaa is free, but he is not. He has enough of KaNikaa’s freedom.

Vishwambhara adds, “Deedee, kindly look at the things from my perspective and I am sure you will appreciate what I am saying. You have a choice either to stay or not to stay here. I would want you to stay with us. However let me make it clear one last time, if you stay here, you have to follow the rules…nobody is exception here...” and he walks away painfully, clearly demonstrating the burden he carries on his young shoulders.

“After all I am not free as I assume, miles to go before I achieve that” KaNikaa tells herself.

***

(3)

The pendulum of ‘being Free’ and ‘not being Free’ oscillates continuously.

When had the story of these two shores begun? From when did the uncertainty changed into certainty to bring in uncertainty again?

KaNikaa was too young – maybe 9 or 10. She was sitting in a temple, which God it was she did not know. The evening Aaratee was over and the crowd had disappeared one by one. She had nowhere to go and did not know what to do.

Her mother had died four years ago. Grandma was staying with them but she too passed away six months ago. Recently her father was behaving very strangely and she was scared of him. He had always loved her; no doubt about it. However, lately the way he fondled her was making her very repulsive towards him. She was frightened to death. But whom would she tell? What to tell? To complain about father who was so kind and loving would be a crime. Was it her father’s fault? Or was she imagining things about him? Was she guilty?

Until day before, everything was still ok, under control. But the way her father looked at her on that fateful morning made her shiver to the bones. She knew something was totally wrong – either with her or with her father. She did not want to go back to her home where she would be alone with her father whole night. So, when father left for office, KaNikaa left for school, but never went to school. Instead, she caught a bus and reached the District town. Near the bus stand, there was this temple and she was sitting there aimlessly.

“My child, don’t you want to go home? It is already late”, a strange old man was talking to KaNikaa. She was initially alarmed but was calmed down by his peaceful and smiling face. “I am nobody’s child; I am free to do whatever I want; and who are you?” KaNikaa asked so many questions. The strange old man smiled again. He asked, “Sorry, how should I address you?” And KaNikaa rudely said, “My name is KaNikaa. No more questions.”

The man sat silently with her. Couple of devotees came late to the temple and bowed to that man with respect. One came to call him for food – he asked KaNikaa to join. KaNikaa was too hungry to resist that offer. That strange man offered his hand to KaNikaa, and she with blind trust went with him. She never had to regret that decision. They went on moving from place to place and finally reached his Aashrama in the southern corner of the country.

Initially KaNikaa was worried that her father would find her out and she would have to go back. But she went on traveling to strange places, stayed in strange environment, always protected by Swaameejee. Days passed, months passed and KaNikaa became sure that her father had lost her forever.

KaNikaa had felt that she was free at last; from her father; from her past; from her fear; from the insecurity; from potential ugliness; from her deadly life.

****

(4)

Swaameejee never asked KaNikaa any question and she never bothered to explain. There was a tacit agreement between them. KaNikaa was amongst people but she was left alone whenever she desired so.

It was only once Swaameejee broke his silence on the topic. He addressed her as “my child” on which she just smiled. She was no more oversensitive about those words. He said, “KaNikaa, my child, I love you. But what worries me is that you carry the burden alone in your heart. By running away, you have not solved the problem, you have just postponed it. I would like you to be brave and face whatever scares you. The freedom you enjoy is artificial, you are not free! The impact still lingers on you – on your body, on your emotions, on your feelings, on your thought process. That is another kind of bondage; I wish you were free from that. However, you have never really tried.” And then he mischievously added, “to be free from others is comparatively easy, to be free from ourselves is the real challenge…”

KaNikaa very well understood what Swaameejee was talking about. She wondered why Swaameejee was suddenly worried about her. She decided to talk to him later; but it could never happen. Within a week after that particular conversation, Swaameejee passed away.

KaNikaa was not after all free to choose her moment.

***

(5)

KaNikaa knows, she does not belong to the Aashrama – its rituals are cowardice and stupidity according to her. Her binding with Swaameejee was the connecting thread so far. She has been always wondering why Swaameejee chose to be amongst such fearful, irrational people. Maybe, he was not free to choose his disciples. She has no other choice but to leave the Aashrama. It would be good for the Aashrama and also for her. . And when one wants to leave, one should not wait for the right moment; there is never a right moment – or leave immediately because every moment is right moment.

Indirectly KaNikaa is compelled to leave Aashrama. She realizes that she is not completely free to take decisions according to her choice.

***

(6)

“Madam, have sweets” her co-passenger is all smiles.

“Thanks, what are we celebrating?” she politely asks.

“You seem to have arrived from another planet,” someone teases her and everybody around laughs merrily.

“Today is our Independence Day Madam, how can you forget it….” Another one remarks with irritating look.

“What are you celebrating guys? Corruption? Scams? Inflation? Poverty? Discrimination? Exploitation? Crime? Riots? Recession? What?" another person explodes.

“But isn’t it good that we are free?” one more passenger joins the conversation.

“We are free from British Empire, but we are suffering from our own weaknesses. We are cowards, we are beggars, we choose the easy way out, we want success by shortcut, we are power hungry, we talk the language of soul but we are materialistic to the core….” Another person laments.

“We are free from outsiders, but we are bound by evils within, not free from its clutches…” another voice.

Everybody agrees.

KaNikaa remembers Swaameejee. His last remarks to her: “to be free from others is comparatively easy; to be free from ourselves is the real challenge…”

In a strange way KaNikaa understands that her destiny, her freedom is associated with destiny of others, freedom of others. To be Free is not to be ‘away’ from something, but to be connected in a detached way. To fight social evils, to try to support poor and exploited, to lead from the front, are all aspects of this detached involvement.

‘Freedom is not Free, it demands high price; those who pay the price only are FREE’, KaNikaa thinks again and smiles with determination.

Yes, KaNikaa probably would be Free in this very life.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Happy Independence Day!

137.Choice

2011-08-01T22:59:00.002+05:30

I had some time off in that city; so went to see Shashank, an old colleague of mine.

Shashank works in Travel Section of an institute. It is a training institute. Simultaneously many workshops and training programs, meetings are held here. To pick up participants from bus stand, railway station and airport and to drop them at these places is his usual task. He manages a team of four to five assistants and the institute has as many as 14 cars and drivers to carry on regular services. In addition to this, they sometime hire vehicles.

It was one of his busy days as two workshops were concluding that day and two more were starting next day. After couple of frantic calls from reception area of the hostels (they have as many as four hostels!) Shashank asked me, “Would you mind ‘Walk a talk’?” He meant that instead of sitting in his cabin, we move around, take a review of what was happening, and talk meanwhile. I happily agreed. Then he suddenly became anxious, “You would get bored though easily”, he said.

That was a possibility. However I had nothing else to do. Also I had never seen the work of travel section in an institute/organization from ‘inside’ so wanted to grab the opportunity.

We went to the reception desk of the first hostel. A man was already shouting at someone. When we reached there he turned first to me and started shouting. ”Please Sir, she is another guest, in what way can I help you sir?” Shashank spoke politely.

“So, were you sleeping?” the man was not willing to tone down.

“What is the problem Sir?” Shashank asked again, again politely.

“My flight is at 12.00 and the vehicle is coming to pick up me at 12.00. How could you do this?” the man barked again.

Shashank asked the name of the person to one of his teammates. Then he patiently referred to a printed paper in his hand. He smiled. “Sir, here you have written 12.15 as your departure time.”

The man was surprised for a moment. He did not believe that he could make such a silly mistake. He came near to Shashank, asked for the paper. From his expression I could see that Shashank was absolutely right. The man thought for a moment. Then with added vigor he said, “You asked for departure time and I gave it, it is not my mistake.” Now it was time for Shashank to feel surprised and hurt.

Smita the training coordinator was nearby. She told the man, “Sir, when I circulated the paper, I clearly instructed that departure time means departure from training institute.”

“No, you never told that, you are lying,” the man accused her bluntly.

Shashank took charge of the situation. He calmly but firmly said, “Sir, if your flight is at 12.00 it is time for you to leave; otherwise you will miss the flight. Give me five minutes and I will arrange another vehicle for you.”

The man understood and nodded. Shashank made another call and on the fifth minute another vehicle was ready. The angry man departed without even saying ‘thanks’ to anyone of those.

Smita was furious. She said, “Shashank Sir, it was not my fault. The fellow gave wrong information and he was aggressive to hide his guilt. When it is not our fault, why do you accept it so politely? We need to teach a lesson to such participants.” Couple of her colleagues who must have taken the brunt of that man’s anger nodded sympathetically.

Shashank was in two minds. Then he said, “Smita Madam, people might accuse us wrongly, it is their perspective. By taking that accusation seriously, we harm ourselves more. And anyways, the person was our guest, I should not insult him. Never mind about that person, did I, for a single moment felt that you were wrong? Do not value the opinion of a stranger –whether right or wrong.”

Smita smiled. Everybody smiled. Shashank made few more inquiries. We moved on. Smita too joined us. We talked. We reached to a second hostel. Here too Shashank’s teammates were crowded around a man. The man was apparently smiling but the team was anxious.

“Hello Sir, Good morning. Good morning Madam”, the smiling man greeted us enthusiastically.

“Is there any trouble?” Shashank asked looking at the faces of his colleague.

“Sorry Sir. I have committed a silly mistake. Instead of writing 10.15 am as departure time, I have written 10.15 pm. I don’t know what I was thinking of when Smita madam was giving instructions. Now Sir, for obvious reasons I can’t wait for the vehicle for 12 more hours. I understand that you cannot help at the last moment. So, I was just requesting your team to hire a taxi for me, I will pay, don’t worry.” The man explained, with a guilty smile.

“So, what is the problem? Just call Meru” Shashank said.

“Shashank Sir, one vehicle is going to airport for pick up and we can accommodate this gentleman in that car. We are just trying to contact our driver. Instead of directly going to airport, the driver will come here and pick him up,” someone explained.

“But Sir, for my mistake, I don’t want to trouble you,” the man added.

“It is our pleasure to help you Sir,” Smita added firmly. And they all made that smiling man to travel in another car. The man shook hands with everybody, apologized a dozen times and thanked everybody. Everybody (even I) was smiling when he departed.

“Why did you decide to help him? It was anyway his mistake,” I casually remarked.

“Mistakes happen. We all are human beings. It does not mean that we should punish someone for a silly mistake.” Smita responded spontaneously and smiled. Shashank smiled mischievously. Others looked extremely happy.

I realized that the situation is not what matters, but it is our response to a situation that makes all the difference! We can respond either bitterly or with a smile. We can accuse others or we can accept the mistake and move on without guilt. We can create enemies or we can create friends. We can crate good memories or bad memories for others as well as for ourselves!

We have a choice in what way to respond. That choice will create a path for us. Always.