thinking aloud...

Flying high

2022-12-16T21:10:00.000+05:30

A chinese man aspired to own a plane but also realised that his dream and his age were racing in different directions. He didn't bury the dream but tweaked it a bit. A farmer by profession, he consumed all his life-long savings and built a plane (read more here).

Similar story took place in India but with a tad twist. The man here is the owner of a dhaba (roadside eating joint) on Delhi-Jaipur Highway - approx. 35 km before Neemrana. His story went completely unnoticed.

Most travellers bypass his gloomy and not so decorative outlet, especially because adjacent to it stands a flashy Haveli (a chain of upmarket highway restaurants).

The non attractive site would have slipped my eyes as well but I consider myself lucky to have decided not to stop at any aristocratic place. The car was already inside the gates of Haveli but my stubbornness, to have my morning tea at some small shack, overpowered and we had to reverse.

As we were swerving the car again on the main road, I spotted an aircraft parked at the side of the road. My excitement was natural. We were nowhere near any airport!

It was Sri Baanke Bihari Tourist Dhaba - a typical highway dhaba. The only additional feature of this dhaba was this aircraft - a 737 white cargo plane with 'Bhartiya Daak' (Indian Post) written in bold red letters.

Curious as I was, I had to strike a conversation with the owner. An unassuming personality and a below ordinary getup - the man sounded extremely casual when I started firing questions about the plane.

"I had bought it in an auction in Delhi for 1.5 crore (10.5 million) Indian Rupees," said the owner casually. I gave a second look to his dhaba and was not sure if he is making even 1,000 rupees every day.

"I want to convert it into a restaurant but that may take 3-4 years, but if that idea does not work out, I may just sell it as scrap; as it has 42-45 tonnes of high quality aluminium which will easily get me 2-3 crore (20-30 million)."

He got up and resumed what he had been doing but left me wondering. India is a land of strange things. The owner of a roadside dhaba buys a plane with nothing in mind. After spending millions, he now toys with ideas to either make it a restaurant or sell it as scrap!

What do you say?

No jargon, no slogans, no rhetoric

2019-03-18T18:40:00.000+05:30

Women’s day was a day of celebration for all

International Women’s Day (March 8) would have passed with same old jargon and gimmicks, same rhetoric and clichéd media campaigns, even in 2019, if…

Fortunately, it didn’t!

So what was different this year?

Two major things.

One – I was no more connected to journalism – directly or indirectly. Therefore, I totally and completely stayed away (thankfully) from the annual ‘run of the mill stuff’ that media produces year after year, with no novelty and zero freshness. (Mind you, their continuous harping hasn’t changed a thing. Whatever change one can see today is the normal and gradual process of evolution where media has a minuscule role to play as any other individual, government or non-profit organisation would have.)

Two – I was no more a freelancer but am now associated with a multinational, full of young and vibrant millennials. Thorough professionals, this bunch of youth bubbling with ideas and energy, do not believe in clichés. They follow their heart and do things their way. Instead of shouting slogans at the highest pitch and getting a hoarse throat, they let their behaviour do the talking.

You must be wondering as to what was it that compelled me to write about my experience (after a long gap of silence about which I owe a piece to my readers)!

Morning hours in the office - except the festivities lined up for the afternoon, there was no other expectation. But the day began with a pleasant note. Literally! A woman colleague brought handwritten cards for all women in our team. The card was accompanied with candies/chocolates, a bright smile and a warm loving hug from her to each one (at least 30 of us).

It was a simple gesture but the thought behind it was invaluable. More so, because it was unexpected and because she was not trying to please any one person. On the contrary, it was a genuine move to make everyone’s day a special one. She left the card and candy on the desk of those who were on leave!

By evening, the male colleagues were energised and ordered sweets for the whole team. Very sweet, indeed.

The company had already planned some fun-filled activities. Thank God, there was no gyan (moral teaching) and no lectures. But there was a lot of laughter and sharing personal experiences, which augmented our perspectives. The objective was to mingle with colleagues, whom we don’t interact with otherwise, being in a huge office having a large force of employees.

The icing on the cake was the gift to all women employees. A bright and inspiring cushion. The gift was small but not ordinary. The cover on the cushion, adorning brand colours, praises women power and recognises their beauty. For me, it will always be a precious souvenir.

The simple festivities of the day and the thoughtful gestures re-strengthened my belief in the power of women in true senses – and this was because we celebrated womanhood instead of trying to prove our worth.

The city of lakes - so refreshing!

2018-10-02T17:41:00.001+05:30

Bhopal truly and totally took me by surprise!

Today, when all Indian cities are bursting to seams with people swarming like bees, struggling to fight the snarls of traffic whilst ignoring the filth in every nook and corner, Bhopal, for me, emerged as an exception!

It was my first visit to Bhopal (September 2018) and my mind was a clean slate with no expectations or prejudices. We landed at night hence couldn't make out much of the place besides that it was unusually quiet. Nevertheless, when our car rached the famous lake in the heart of the town, the huge writing, illuminated with red light, 'Welcome to the city of Lakes' on the upper side of the lake, spoke amounts about the city.

Since it was a work visit, next two days were busy. We had to travel to some villages in the nearby areas - about two hours drive away from Bhopal. However, while going through the busiest areas of the city to our work destination, I realised a few things - the city is clean and the traffic is much less as compared to any other city in India. I didn't see anyone honking unnecessarily or speeding rashly even during the rush hour. No one seemed to be in a hurry to reach somewhere. It was not a noisy city from any point of view.

(The lake seemed to have a calming impact on its people).

Fortunately, on the last day, our work finished early. Relieved that everything had gone as per the plan, our minds were relaxed but our bodies ached and were crying for caffeine some to get rejuvenated. The urge was too strong after our hectic schedule of two days. We located a Cafe Coffee Day close to our hotel. The location couldn't have been better - at a hilly area, overlooking the lake, peaceful and surreal. The only drawback was the cheap film music, playing loud at the lake by the government run tourist centre at the lakeside, down below, which was a sure earsore for us.

The lakeside was buzzing with activities - sailing boats, motor boats etc, a number of vendors were selling a variety of foods. It was heartening to see youngsters around. The view at the lake side confirmed that Bhopal people, especially youngsters, do not hang out in 'malls' but go out to chill in the open and get some fresh air - another contrast from other big cities where air-conditioned shopping arcades are the most preferred hanging out place. Obviously, because the cities generally lack such outdoor leisure places.

The driver who was with us during our stay became a sort of our guide. He shared stories of Bhopal - major portion of which belonged to Pataudi family - ancestors of Saif Ali Khan Pataudi, once upon a time. The family distributed chunks of land to people who needed them. Pataudis still have a hotel and a bungalow which they still visit.

Another feature of Bhopal is World's First Broad Gauge Rail Coach Restaurant. Unfortunately, we couldn't dine there because it has its particular timing, which clashed with our work schedule, but I managed to peep into the coach and get some photos.

The accommodation was like icing on the cake
We were lucky to have gotten one of the best accommodations - Ivy Suites for our three-nights stay. Run by a friendly couple in their ancestral house, the place is a hotel cum a home stay. Surrounded with a lot of greenery, the place has aesthetic and heritage beauty of a boutique hotel, but the comfort of a home.

It's an ideal location if you are a creative person and want to spend a few days creating something - poem, prose, fiction, sketch, painting, photography or any other such creative activity. Famous cine star of yesteryears, Deetpi Naval stayed in this hotel to write her book. The team of Hindi movie Sanju, stayed here and so have many other known personalities.

The hotel doesn't have a restaurant but a big dining table where most of the guests dine together. The Sharma couple (the owners) - great conversationalist and extremely hospitable, also joins the guests. (Don't be surprised if they offer you a drink as well). This provides the guests a chance to mingle with others.

Alas! It was a short trip and that too work related, so I couldn't have enough of it. However, the beauty of the city and the accommodation compelled me to make a promise to myself to visit Bhopal again - this time a pure pleasure visit - to explore the city's natural beauty!

Check the photos to get a feel of the reality...

view from the lake facing room in Ivy Suites

Good to see youngsters chilling in fresh air

Raja Bhoj stand tall in his city

Traffic on a normal day

The activities at the lake side

View from CCD

World's first broad gauge rail coach restaurant

The seating arrangement is also at the platform

leisure area at Ivy Suites

A drive to walk!

2018-08-28T15:42:00.000+05:30

The idea to drive early morning specifically to a park, and that too for a walk (read exercise walk and not a leisurely stroll), sounds silly to me.

I wonder why one would drive when the idea is to walk. Why not just step out of your home and begin walking (mind you, people who regimentally drive to the park every day for a walk, hardly ever walk to the nearby shop to buy milk or other essentials, that walk is saved for the poor house help!).

On a personal note, I feel trapped walking in a park–surrounded by a hedge and then secured with a boundary wall. To make it worse, parks these days have a pre-decided path for walking which freaks me out.

Having a path denotes someone else is planning your walk and taking charge of your morning activity. You become a robot and start going in circles like a possessed soul. Since these narrow paths can accommodate one or maximum two people, rest of the walking enthusiasts form a queue – following each other’s steps, leaving nothing to the imagination, nothing to explore.

I prefer walking on the road (obviously on the service lane or the pavement – and thankfully all roads in the area I live in have service lanes and pavements, which have greenery in abundance).

My idea of a walk is to step out of the home and start walking. Try this and you will understand what I mean.

Walking in the open gives a feeling of independence – it is like getting out of boundaries. It feels the whole sky is yours. Vegetation surrounds you randomly, in no perfect order. You become part of nature. Your movements are not restricted. Your activity is neither guided nor predetermined. You choose it. You are the one who is in charge of your actions and not someone else.

Many of my friends who drive for their walks argue on fresh air and no pollution in parks. In their defence, they blame lunatic drivers who love to race on rather empty roads in the morning. They are right in their argument but to some extent. If there are no footpaths and if there are no service lanes, then only a deranged person or the one with suicidal tendencies would dare to step out and face the road rage. But if you have the privilege of having a public friendly place, then please don’t take out your car first thing in the morning.

At this note, I must thank my stars to be at a place that is conducive to walking enthusiasts. The area has all elements – service lanes, pavements, and plenty of greenery. Walking on these roads is not only improving my health, it brings me back rejuvenated. I explore and spot something new every day – a new way, a new path, new vegetation, new flower, or some other element, which springs a new surprise.

This breaks the monotony and keeps the walk an exciting activity for the body as well as for your mind.

Has the heavenly system gone corrupt?

2018-08-23T18:05:00.000+05:30

‘The God’s own country’!

But, the God seems to either have forgotten about his/her own country or have developed a bad sense of humour to play a cruel joke on her.

Of all the states in India, states in the southwest and northeast are perhaps the most stunning places. Both regions are rich in natural beauty, rich in culture, rich in craft, and rich in culinary delights. Anyone, who has visited even a tiny part of these corners of India, can’t refrain from falling in love with the unique character, spirit, and culture that these regions have in abundance.

I have visited Kerala 2-3 times and all states of the northeast (except Tripura) innumerable times and I can vouch for their beauty and cultural richness.

However, the massive and devastating floods in both the parts – Kerala in southwest and Assam in the northeast have shaken my faith in God, who has distraught his/her own country.

I wonder, does it have something to do with Kaliyug (according to Hindu mythology – some describe it as the Age of Kali and others describe it as the Age of Kaal – in any way it denotes the era of destruction)‼

Kaliyug is associated with corruption at its prime, rule of the evil, and in a nutshell, flourishing of everything that is negative and bad.

The stories like those of Vijay Mallya, Neerav Modi and Mehul Choksi et el confirm the first association – that corruption at its prime. The fact that politicians are turning into dictators (you can’t eat what you want, you can’t wear what you want, you simply can’t express how you feel – in a democratic environment – mind you) confirm the point that Kaliyug is the rule of the evil. The fundamentalist forces which have a negative approach to everything are flourishing – so the third point is also established.

Now the destructive floods in Kerala and Assam!

I conclude that on the pattern of corrupt bureaucracy, corrupt politicians, corrupt judiciary, and corrupt media, the system ‘above’ (at the Gods’ kingdom) have also gone corrupt.

The old bosses either have deployed corrupt Gods or have given the reins to those who have no clue about their role and responsibilities as Gods. They do not know which state needs rain which doesn’t, which family needs monetary help which doesn’t, who are the people who need opportunities to grow and who don’t, which are the places that need support and basic infrastructure and which don’t.

The result is in front of all of us.

States like Kerala and Assam are having floods while the water level is going down in hill states like Himachal Pradesh and Uttarakhand, which are facing acute water shortage.

Scammers like Mehul Choksi and Neerav Modi are so loaded after fleecing the national banks now they are buying citizenship of other countries whereas, on the other hand, the country has millions of people who are unable to get two proper meals in a day.

Bureaucrats and politicians keep increasing their own salaries and perks while the rest of the nation struggles for survival although keeps paying taxes so that these public servants can have a ball of a time.

In every city, there are areas that have all the facilities – the roads have been built so many times that the pavement has gone down two feet lower. Then, there are areas in each Indian city which have no proper drainage, no sewage, no proper water, or electricity supply. In the name of roads, these areas have something that can put craters to shame.

In today’s political scenario, it would be disturbing and dangerous to ask the government to fix things. But, for mortals like me, it’s easy to blame the God and his/her kingdom, where everything is going wrong, and where the impact of Kaliyug is as clear as water in Kerala!

However, while the systems have failed, Gods have given up, we humans can do whatever is in our capacity. We can extend help to people, who at this time of crisis need support from all of us.

The beauty that stayed in my memory

2018-08-21T16:07:00.000+05:30

It was simply serene and surreal with cool breeze outside.

The road was veering through dense forest on both sides. In between were scattered tiny houses secured with bamboo-fenced courtyards, a typical sight in the state of Odisha. The fences adorned recently washed utensils shining like silver in the bright sunlight (people hang utensils on the fence for drying). We were on our way to Malkangiri district.

The area is considered sensitive for Naxal activities. Hence there were CRPF jawans (Central Reserve Police Force men) who had made their makeshift base at every curve of the forest area. They were checking every vehicle passing by although there were not many of them on the deserted road. It was quite strange to spot one or two motorbikes parked after every couple of km. Helmets hanging onto their handles but no person in sight. Our driver did not find it peculiar because for him - a resident of the area, the sight was routine. Acting like our guide, he informed us that those vehicles belonged to cops, who hide in the forest to keep a watch on the activities inside the forest area as well as outside on the road.

As we moved a little further, there appeared a river–broad and big with sea-green water. The river flows between Odisha and Andhra Pradesh. The driver could not tell its proper name and the signs in Odia language were only squiggles for me.

The abundance of the virgin beauty of nature around the area was simply breathtaking. The river had a few small islands and each island looked like a bouquet of trees sitting in the middle of the river and welcoming the travellers. The whole area could have been a perfect weekend getaway. Had it been in any other country it would have been converted into a tourist site. This was the Chitrakonda area of Odisha where we could not restrain ourselves from taking a break.

The river has a huge dam, Balimela Dam. The water gushing out of its gates invariably attracted all motorists. Photography is prohibited at dams and putting aside the urge to share this natural beauty with friends and family back home, we decided to soak our eyes with the splendour of nature. Seeing the exquisiteness of nature in its raw form was a truly overwhelming and awe-inspiring experience.

It was a work trip but someday I would love to revisit this area which remains untouched by any human intervention although recently a bridge has been made to connect the villages which remained cut off from the rest of the state due to rough and tough approach.

I know it is not fair that I am now sharing the photos of the place that I am describing with so much passion. But, sometimes it is compelling that you admire the beauty with your eyes and arrest the moments in your heart, rather than capturing them in the camera.

It is true that moments captured in the camera can be relived every time you look at the photos, but reminiscing the beauty of such exotic locations with eyes closed and reliving every moment with real pulsation, has its own charm. Now close your eyes and try to draw the picture of Chitrakonda area, and I am sure you will see the greenery around and smell the fresh air.

Driving blindfolded

2018-08-07T14:53:00.000+05:30

Bhadrachalam Road…

The name on the building sounded strange, at least to me, if not to others!

Obviously, because Bhadrachalam Road was not the name of any street but it is a railway station in Andhra Pradesh (now Telangana). From here, we had to travel by road to Malkangiri district in the State of Odisha. The strange name was a hint that the journey would be an interesting one.

Malkangiri had no railway links.

Only in February 2018, a 130-km railway project has been approved by the Union Cabinet Committee on Economic Affairs (Government of India). So, the only way to reach the place was by road.

Thankfully, the driver (sent by the host) was waiting for outside the station, with a Mahindra Scorpio SUV (the only vehicle one can find on that road which passes through rough and tough terrains of the forest area.

We packed ourselves for the next 6-7 odd hours of the road trip through the rugged roads.

The fun (pun intended) began the moment we were out of the station. It was the middle of the night. The road was engulfed in thick winter fog with zero visibility. The windscreen was covered with mist. However, it did not perturb the driver who was zooming at 80 km.

Wondering why the driver was not using wipers to clear the screen, I was about to interrogate the driver. Before I could complete my question, he stated, as a matter of fact, “Wipers are not working, Madame”.

Seriously!

It was useless to discuss the matter further so we mentally prepared ourselves for the adventure. Thankfully, I was travelling shotgun so had the privilege of a seat belt whereas the rest of my co-passengers (including the driver) were happy travelling dangerously. The back seat did not even have any seatbelts.

The driver kept following the white dividing line on the road; and carried on racing unabated. In between, a time came when even the driver struggled to see where the road actually was. He had to stop the vehicle to clean the windscreen.

The adventure was over with the first ray of sun when finally we were able to see where we were going. The adventure topped with life threat was over. Looking around I realised that the beauty of nature in its virgin form was breathtaking.

Malkangiri is surrounded by forests. The next hour helped us forget the nightmarish experience of driving blindly. Nonetheless, the experience also made this travel into a memorable experience!

Religious Idiosyncrasies

2018-07-20T22:05:00.000+05:30

Before I could share the photos of my epic journey, journalism caught me off guard.

Scanning through the stories of the day (the journalist in me refuses to sit idle), I spotted something which forced me to leave whatever I was doing, turn on my laptop, and share this weirdness with all of you. Some of you may find it funny (not funny ha ha but funny peculiar), but it may ignite anger in most of you.

Every year, during the month of Savan (from the Indian calendar), people with strong religious faith, travel for miles to pray to Lord Shiva. These travellers are called Kanwaria (read more about them here) and this journey is called Kawar Yatra.

Years ago, these people were real devotees of Shiva and would travel on foot. They were simple, mostly rural people. Over the years, the trend changed. Now, convoys of vehicles with loud music, drunk and rowdy boys, dancing and shouting, is a common sight. Their indulgence in activities of vandalism, scuffle and violence with common commuters is reported every year.

Overlooking safety of every citizen, the Chief Minister of north Indian state of Uttar Pradesh, Yogi Adityanath decided to use choppers to shower these kawaria with flowers. That's not all, the state government will also use helicopters, drones and close-circuit-TV cameras to monitor the Kawar Yatra (their journey). The government servants will form Whatsapp groups to exchange information. There will be watch-towers set up. The paraphernalia is set to get huge amount of tax-payers' (you and me) money wasted in glorifying the ritual, which, today, is followed by very few genuinely religious people but mostly by the followers of the saffron brigade.

Think of this - so far, the government was not bothered about the rickety electrical system, but now they plan to change the hundred-year-old wiring, at least on that route which the kawaria will take. No one ever bothered to check the quality of food available at roadside dhabas, but now the government servants will check the food quality. The roadways bus drivers are notorious for drinking and driving at rampant speed (they know that if there is an accident, no action will be taken against them because they are part of the corrupt system). But now the roadways department will ensure that at least during the Kawar Yatra, these drives are not drinking and not driving at high speed either.

If this doesn't make you ponder over government's lopsided priorities, here is more. The government employees have been asked to use social media to educate Kawaria about dos and don'ts (as if this will discipline them!). The government is even working on a mobile app which is geo-mapping all shops, medical stores etc on google, to track the Yatra and ensure that the kawaria do not face any problem.

I was just wondering if the government had thought of paying even half attention to improving law and order, women safety, bringing down maternal deaths, infant deaths, upgrading the medical care of senior citizens, improving the quality of education (the list is endless), it would have done much favour to the state and its residents, than by spending recklessly on a religious ritual.

Lastly, the measures government is ready to take for a smooth Kawar Yatra, shouldn't these be taken in a routine way to benefit every citizen who has the right to get those services (of course, except showing flowers using helicopters!)

I am baffled! What about you?

Stars in my Eyes

2018-07-10T08:25:00.001+05:30

The more I delay and procrastinate writing, the more I admire and respect the bloggers and writers who are disciplined and regular.

However, I have finally got the time to relax and have a heart-to-heart talk with all of you who still like to read what I write (despite long gaps); but before I proceed, I must thank and apologise to all of you, and express my heartfelt gratitude for being there for me.

Last six months have been a real roller coaster ride for me. When I say roller coaster ride, I mean it! I travelled far and beyond, and now when back from the rigmarole, I feel like sharing my journey and experience with all of you.

After contemplating for about a year, I finally moved my base.

Three decades ago, I had come to Lucknow - the erstwhile city of nawabs (there are neither nawabs [Mughal royals] nor the nawabi tehzeeb [etiquatte] and culture). Though coming from a small town, I adapted to the city as a fish to water. The city gave me some memorable moments which I will cherish forever. My beautiful girl and handsome boy were born in the city. I changed my nomenclature from a housewife to a working mother. I found a few lovely friends there, experienced love and love lost, changed the course of my career, and found stability in life, and most importantly, understood the meaning of spirituality and contentment.

Growing in years (don't ask the age), I realised life is not about material possessions and happiness can't be found outside, in temporary elements and stimuli. Life is loving people and happiness is being at peace with yourself. The realisation was strong and compelled me to move from the city, which I found to have been going backwards - from being a peaceful city to a growing economy, in which people are becoming rats, and don't get tired of running (not running for health but running as chasing something or the other). I saw people becoming less loving, more flashy.

I realised I was definitely not a part of that race and was certanly out of place - the odd one out.

The realisation converted into action and thus began the process of packing memories and events of three decades in small cartons. it was physically strenuous and mentally exhausting. But what gave me peace was the decision and clarity in my head, that this is what I wanted. when we turned the house upside down, many memories and moments tumbled up. Some narrated the stories others took us back to the memory lane. Pictures began in flashback. Certain things were kept aside to be unfolded at leisure when the whole family is together (for example the letters my children used to write to me, practically daily), others made us laugh and in between all that jazz, we found time to use some old stuff and get some selfies.

Finally, in my mid-life, (when people find themselves more or less settled), I moved the base to a bigger city. The solace this city gives me is that here I have stars in my eyes - my left and right eye are here - my children are here - my lifeline is here.

Bags have been unopened. Plants have found their corner and appear happy. The house has become more or less a home. Life is in its usual course. Laughter and music have filled the void. Now its time to explore its vibrancy, food, drinks and parks.

Now sitting with my feet up, I review the year-long journey - first mental and then physical - and the thought comes to my mind is that perhaps this was the longest and an epic journey that I have ever taken in my life.

This is also the time, I want to make a promise to all of you and more to myself that I will be regularly in touch with the people who give me their love in the form of their admiration. I will be regular in sharing my feelings and experiences with all of you, as you are the one who motivates me to converse with you in written words.

Some pictures of nostalgia will follow soon...

These Stupid Smart Phones

2018-01-18T14:42:00.003+05:30

The first day of the year! We wanted to make it special. So, we decided to visit a friend. The plan was to simply spend a lazy afternoon chatting over cups of coffee and tea, and be home before Delhi traffic becomes mental.

What we overlooked was the God’s sense of humour. Every time a man enthusiastically proposes anything, the God happily jumps to dispose the same.

The afternoon was made to order. It was so perfect that we wouldn’t have desired any change in it. We walked out of our friend’s house through a beautifully manicured park in the vicinity. We reached the main road but shelved the idea of booking a cab. The weather was ideal for walking, and we wanted to make the best of it.

On our way, we also finished some food shopping. Holding the food bags, we decided to not go for any more adventure but book the cab. My partner’s phone was already off due to no life left in the battery. I had some left so I began the process.

Ironically, before the GPS in Uber app could pin point our location, the battery of my phone suddenly slipped from 29% to zero. What we found us staring at was the black screen of the phone. This was one of those freaky and leisurely days, when we both had decided not to carry the power banks.

Now standing in the middle of the shopping area, in front of a busy road, we looked at each other. Surprisingly, instead of feeling irritated or frustrated we burst into laughter, although the situation was such that we couldn’t even call anyone to book the cab for us, and we were not in a position to do it ourselves, either.

We decided to venture out and have some fun. The idea was to prove that we could survive and manage without phones. After all, human beings were surviving even before mobile phones were invented, and were doing quite well. So, why should we be so dependent on our phones?

We took an auto rickshaw to the next metro station. I am an Uber person and not a metro fan. When I reached the metro station, my heart began to sink. It was over crowded and was full of all sorts of people. Everyone was pushing others and running to get ahead in the swarm of people. The noise at the station seemed like someone has disturbed a hornet’s nest.

The x-ray machine was another nightmare. People were piling bags as if they were from the ‘lost and found’ section. I was worried about my bag, which was a fancy one (no zipper but jut a loop). I was afraid that my valuables (two stupid smart phones with depleted batteries and money, etc) may fall out of it, while going through the machine.

Somehow I passed the test. Picked up my bag at the other end. Stopped to breathe some fresh air, and checked if everything was intact.

The train arrived and we were pushed in by the people behind us. Standing at the door, we began our memorable journey. After a couple of stations when we got some space to breathe, we found ourselves laughing again – at the irony of the situation and our adventure. As the destination was approaching we found the situation more and more amusing.

We arrived home safe and sound after a happy and also an eventful day.

The result: unlike others who make big resolutions every year, I resolved to never leave home without power bank in future.

The incident also underlined how we humans have become prisoners of our stupid smart phones, which, after all, are not so smart.

Invisible People

2018-01-13T13:34:00.000+05:30

31^st December – this one day, every year, the whole world goes crazy! People celebrate the day in their own unique ways. Some get sloshed only to wake up 24 hours later, wondering where the hell did they miss the first day of the year. Others sing and dance away to glory whilst ushering in the new year.

There are people, who would much rather spend the last evening of the year with their loved ones. And then, there are people like us, who prefer to chill in their own comfort zone – getting the warmth from the bonfire, discussing the issues of the world, while sipping wine and eating home cooked roasted tomato pasta.

Normally, the ambience on such occasions gently caresses the philosophical side of people; and we are not saints. We too were bitten by the philosophical bug.

On a serious note, the thoughts that crept into my mind this new year’s eve were far away from philosophy. They were purely based on observation. They were worth revisiting and held enough sensitivity to linger and ponder over them.

While we made ourselves cosy near the fire, my eyes travelled to a dark spot near the house. There is some construction going on, adjacent to our residence. It was 19:00 hours, and I saw a bright bulb lit in the middle of the otherwise dark and gloomy construction site.

Two workers were unloading the cement sacks from a truck parked at the site. The men were carrying those sacks on their heads for storing them in the temporary shacks erected at the site.

A couple of men were sitting on chairs with their eyes glued on the bright screens of their mobiles. It seemed they were there to supervise the workers.

The owners of the site must have been celebrating their new year’s eve somewhere posh and comfortable while the labourers were slogging in the cold night of winter, well after their duty hours.

The sight was provoking enough for me, and filled my mind with questions.

I wondered if these workers were aware that it was the last day of the year!

Did it make a difference to them if it was the last day of the year or the first one?

Do they never feel the need to find such excuses to celebrate life and live it for a few moments?

I continued watching them from the balcony. They worked late that night. After finished their job around 20:00 hours, they cooked their meal and retired to their small huts. Their day ended like any other day in their lives.

The following day, which was the first day of the year, and a big deal for us to begin it in a special way, they were up and about in the morning. I woke up with the sound of a digger cutting a trench at the site while the workers were busy in their mundane routine. For them that day was no different in their lives as any other. The new beginnings and resolutions, which function as motivation for many of us, eluded them.

My mind was constantly quizzing and puzzling me. A whole lot of thoughts were squirming inside. When a person can spend one or two crore rupees in constructing a huge building in a posh area, why cannot he/she spend 2,000-5,000 to make the lives of workers a bit livelier! After all, these workers put in their hard labour to construct the dreams of others!

Putting myself in the owner’s place, I started calculating what possibly could have been done to make the day special for the labourers. The labourers could have been bought a nice meal. They could have been asked to make a bonfire – which for them would have definitely not been a luxury but necessity. The workers could have been given one day’s paid holiday on the 1^st January, or anything to make that day a special one.

Any or all of the above would have cost a maximum of maybe 5,000 rupees to the owner; but it would have meant a great deal to workers for they would have gotten a chance to feel human.

My thinking process would have continued if it was not shaken by a sudden but harsh realisation – for many people these workers do not even exist beyond being labourers – available to slog for anyone who would pay them their daily wage!

In other circumstances (when there is no work), this community remains simply invisible to most of the people.

I do not believe in preaching, rather I practice whatever I learn. Ideas can strike anywhere and learning can come from any quarter.

I decided that from now on at least I can try to be humble and polite with these workers, who are in millions in number, in India, and make every effort to give them some happy moments.

This is because these humans need our humane approach and touch more than our money, which we spend to buy them.

If any one of you get some idea how the quality of life of these labour community be improved, please do share in the comments.

With these thoughts I wish Happy New Year to all of you and each one of those invisible worker!

A trip that taught me to not judge

2017-07-01T23:45:00.000+05:30

One can learn a lot just by travelling. It is probably the only activity that offers lessons on life skills, which no person or book can provide us.

The most prominent things I learned from my recent journey to Uttarakhand was: Do not judge people. Do not carry preconceived notions about people. Do not put people in slots. Do not form opinions about people.

Trekking up to Tungnath [LINK] temple with my friends, was a life changing experience in many ways - we realised that we are ageing, we need more cardio exercise and that we need to travel more and trek more.

Advised by the hotel owner, we had carried our picnic along with us to Tungnath. However, we were pleasantly surprised to find a few tea shops running from small kiosks intermittently placed throughout the trekking pathway.

On our way back, we stopped at one such tea stall. It was a small tin shed with walls made of odd shaped pieces of slate. In this region of Uttarakhand, slate is the most common construction material.

It was around 10:00 am and it seemed like the shop owner had just began his day. He was busy in lighting his chulha (the earthen stove in which wood is burnt) creating a lot of smoke inside. Although there were some chairs and tables outside the shed, we decided to sit inside, nexts to the shop keeper, so that we could feel the warmth of the fire as well as strike a conversation with him. Next to his stove, were the bundles of mattresses stored in a corner. We made ourselves comfortable on those mattresses.

Sujan preparing breakfast for the guests in his hotel

We closely observed him doing his chores with a mysterious smile etched on his face. Whilst preparing tea for us, he promised breakfast to a group of 4-5 boys.

His demeanor was intriguing. Going back to carrying prejudices, we asked him his name. "Sujan Singh," his voice was too polite and soft, albeit his eyes were sharp. He caught us struggling to comprehend.

Swiftly, he turned and took out a card stacked amidst various other items piled on a wooden shelf behind the stove. He humbly handed over his business card to us.

Hotel Devlok - Tungnath

Sujan Singh Rana

Mobile: +91 99275 90165

"Wow"! Our spontaneous reaction spurted out in one word.

With eyes rolling in sheer surprise, we kept staring at the card. None of us had expected the unassuming man to possess a business card. The man had broken the shackles of our prejudices - "How can an ordinary tea shop owner running his business from a kiosk can be so suave and sophisticated to carry a business card!"

The back of the card mentioned: 'Please visit us for homely food and stay at the altitude of 3,680 metres (12,073 feet) above sea-level'. 'It will become one of your best memories of this place'.

It certainly did become one of the best memories for us although not for staying in his hotel, but because meeting Sujan changed our perspective forever.

I made a promise to myself not to judge anyone from their appearance, ever again.

During the same trip, we had arranged to meet a yogi (a saintly person who has renounced all materialism for the service of his God. When asked for his address, instead of explaining verbally, which we had expected, to our utmost surprise, he sent the location to us using Whatsapp!

Most of our photos during the trip are courtesy, Arjun

Similar was the case with our driver, Arjun Singh Negi. We had hired a car for the whole trip and were expecting a driver to look after our bags and ferry us from one place to the other. However, and Arjun, a nice, friendly, young and educated guy, became an integral part of our travel. He became our photographer and more importantly our friend.

These live experiences with real people of the world humbled me. The big learning was a realisation to how we carry preconceived notions and put people in slots matching to the stereotypes of the work they do.

Thankfully, owing to this journey, I have returned as a wiser person with a wider perspective. My resolution from now on is: Do not judge a book by its cover!

Those 12 minutes...

2017-06-05T22:00:00.000+05:30

For those 12 minutes, I was on cloud nine - awestruck by the voluptuous curves and unsullied gorgeousness that lay in front of me. Her vastness had a humbling impact on me, whereas the abundance was simply captivating.

The profusion of virgin beauty of the earth below compelled me to gawk at it, while riding the chopper that takes pilgrims from Phata to the Kedarnath shrine, in the Uttarakhand state of India.

Interestingly, it was not my maiden ride, on a chopper.

Back in 2007, I had travelled in a helicopter with the former Chief Minister of Uttar Pradesh state, Mr Mulayam Singh Yadav, during his election campaign. For about 10 hours, I had accompanied him to more than a dozen public meetings at various places in the state. However, at that point of time, my sole concentration was on covering his meetings and weaving news stories around his campaign [LINK]. The mode of transport couldn’t hold my fancy.

However, this time, the story was altogether different. It was a journey amidst lush green, colossal mountains.

We had arrived in Uttarakhand only a day before. The overnight train journey (from Lucknow to Dehradun) followed by the day-long road travel (from Dehradun to Guptkashi via Rishikesh) had drained us. Yet, fatigue was not an issue at all. We were up at 04:00 AM. An early morning shower with chilled water (in biting cold) only infused a fresh life in us.

By 06:00 AM, we were at the chopper company office. The guy at the reception asked us to wait until 13:00 hrs, as we had originally opted to stay the night at Kedarnath. But the excitement was too high for us to wait that long. We decided to play our charm and managed to get the tickets changed to same day journey. Even then, we had to wait for a couple of hours, which we utilised in exploring the surroundings and stealing a few shots (photography is prohibited in the area).

Finally, it was our turn. We queued up at the waiting area, where the usher handed us our boarding passes and baggage tags. And, then began the extensive briefing sessions (preparing the passengers, majority of whom travelling in a chopper for the first time). There were numerous directives - “Do not touch the seat or the seat belt”, “Do not touch anything inside the chopper”, “Do not talk to each other”, “Do not use your phone”, “Do not use your camera”, “Do not walk towards the back of the chopper where the propeller runs so fast that it becomes invisible and poses danger”, “If you drop something, do not try to pick it up but wait for the ground staff to help you”, and many many more such instructions.

The company had deployed two sets of ground staff – one for pilgrims returning from the Shrine and the other for those ready to board the flight. Each passenger was individually assisted by one ground staff member.

Guided by our leads, we were rushed towards the chopper as soon as it landed. The staff hardly took two minutes in helping onboard passengers getting off safely, and assisting the ongoing ones getting on and buckling up. The whole process was ultra swift and super efficient.

The pilot and the ground staff had their routine communication gesturing a thumbs-up sign implying all set to take off.

I was fortunate to be seated in the front next to the pilot, although the privilege came with some additional riders – “Do not touch any button on the panels in front or around you”, “Do not talk to the pilot” etc etc.

I was still struggling to emerge from those ‘Dos’ and ‘Don’ts’, when the pilot asked me to wear the headphones hanging in front of me. Obediently, I followed that instruction as well.

“Hi, this is Vicky,” a friendly voice rang into my ears. I realised that it was not a routine announcement as it happens in commercial airlines but the pilot here was trying to establish a dialogue with me. “This is Alka,” I blurted awkwardly.

An ex-army-man, flying the shuttle service (this is how the chopper service to Kedarnath is commonly referred to as) for 6-8 hours daily, Vicky was manoeuvring the machine smoothly and effortlessly. Even his face showed no signs of tension. His eyes were free of any worries. I realised that he must be used to seeing people feeling nervous while travelling in a chopper; and he must have evolved an affable way of easing the passengers, at least the one sitting shotgun. He had succeeded in his endeavour.

I found myself slowly getting in-sync with my surreal surroundings. We were more than 6,000 feet above the ground flying amidst huge and lush green mountains. The sun was bright and the clean air made the sky look pristine blue. A play of light and shadows had created distinct layers on different peaks, reflecting various shades of blue and green, blending well with each other. The snow-covered pinnacles gleamed like gold in the bright sunshine.

The splendour of the nature had left me speechless. At the same time, the magnificent view from above had facilitated my imagination to take a flight of fancy. “Had there been a heaven on earth, it would have looked like this,” my mind wandered.

As we veered right towards Kedar valley, Vicky pointed at the river Mandakini, gently flowing below. Squeezed between massive mountains on both sides, the narrow stream of the river appeared innocent and harmless. This was the same river that had caused wreckage in 2013 [LINK], after a disparaging cloudburst and terrible landslides. The tragedy had left thousands of people dead and injured and had caused heavy damage to properties.

The whole picture of that catastrophe whirled in front of my eyes for a second. At that moment, Vicky, as if reading my mind, drew my attention to the old but damaged route of yatra that pilgrims used before the disaster. The ramshackled route was full of the remnants of devastation.

“And, that is the new route,” Vicky interrupted my stupor and brought me back to hope and positivity.

I spotted swarms of devotees walking on the 20 odd km long, newly paved track [LINK]. From above, everything down looked diminutive. There were also mules and pitthus (carrier men) transporting old, invalid and children or any other person who was unable to take the journey on foot or couldn’t afford the chopper ride.

It was a landscape displaying the faith of humanity walking in pursuit of an unknown but the omnipresent power. The scenario brought an involuntary smile to my face and brightened my eyes.

“So, we are here! You can see the Kedarnath Shrine,” Vicky announced.

I could see the shrine in front of us. Surrounded by mammoth mountains, it appeared comparatively small, but the exhilaration this journey had ignited in me was enormous.

Landing at the helipad in the Kedarnath valley felt like a dream come true – an experience to be cherished forever!

More information about shuttle service to Kedarnath can be found here [LINK]

Trek: 9 km – Age: 50 plus

2017-05-25T09:18:00.000+05:30

We made it!

There was a child-like exhilaration on our faces. The victory grin was only adding to it. The smell of sweat, for once, did not bother us. In fact, it was making the freshly tanned skin glisten like copper. There was a race going on between our heartfelt laughter and pounding hearts. Obviously, the laughter was superseding the breathlessness.

We had completed our maiden trek from Chopta to Tungnath – about 9 km!

“What’s the big deal?” The regular trekkers may laugh and ridicule us for our miniscule achievement. However, digging deep they also may end up patting our backs.

Three working-women – all fond of luxury life, fond of drinking and eating all sorts of vices and junk, none is into any kind of regular fitness regime, and all in our mid-50s – suffering from some or the other kind of middle age ailments.

For us it was a big achievement, which compelled me to jot it down and share with others. Who knows whom it may inspire!

We were on a pilgrimage with our focus on Badrinath and Kedarnath shrines in Uttarakhand State. All logistics for that Yatra (journey) were methodically planned. Chopta and Tungnath were only a subsidiary of this journey and no one had given it a second thought.

On reaching Chopta (LINK), which is a village in district Chamoli, our driver, Negi (who, by now, had become our partner in crime) stopped the car on a narrow road. On the right hand side were a couple of dhabas (roadside kiosks selling tea and food) and small warehouse like structures. Sun had already hidden itself behind mountains. Slight rain had been adding to the beauty of the nature.

We presumed Negi has gone out for some road permit or something to do with his taxi. Meanwhile, he popped his head inside the car and asked us to come out and check. “Check what?” our spontaneous reaction. In this rain, on the roadside what does he want us to check! However, reluctantly, two of us got out and crossed the 10 feet (narrow) road to enter one of the rooms in this 3-roomed warehouse.

One of the three rooms in the blue structure was our abode

It was our abode for the night. Two double beds with thick quilts. No electricity, no hot water, actually no water. For records, located in Kedarnath Wildlife Sanctuary, Chopta has only solar generated power, which is not available when it’s raining. The idea behind this is to dissuade urbane tourism and related activities and protect the environment. The absence of modern life facilities, help the flora and fauna flourish in peace.

Within no time, we made ourselves comfortable – tucked in beds. Our phones showed 4⁰C. No one moaned about hot water or even not having water at all. Rather, we enjoyed the thunder and lightning outside which intermittently penetrated the darkness of our room through a small window at the back, which we opened to get some oxygen.

Tired with our Kedarnath Yatra, soon every one of us was snoring.

The morning brought a new day. We were up at 04:30. The door of our room opened on the road. I stepped out, and what I saw made me pinch myself to ensure I am not dreaming. We were surrounded by snow-covered mountain. In front of us were vast and lush meadows (known in Uttarakhand as Bhugyal).

The serenity of the place was simply breathtaking

Chopta is known as ‘Mini Switzerland of India’ (LINK); and we were there!

I walked to the teashop next to us and surprised my friends with nicely brewed ginger tea. All of us were out on the road breathing fresh air, enjoying the fragrance the nature was exuding. Sun was gradually coming up shining the mountains peaks like gold.

We were told that Tungnath (LINK) is 3 km steep trek with pebbled pathway. To us, 6 km sounded doable and we were up and about around 06:30 to start our maiden trek. As preparation, we had in our backpacks water, toffees, sunscreen lotion, and buns and butter (someone told us that there would not be any eatable available up there. It was cold and we were equipped with jackets, scarves, and boots. We dragged Negi along with us, who kept narrating fables about the place.

We must have walked only half a km. There emerged green meadows sitting and waiting to astound us. Soon, we realised that the lack of oxygen was making us breathless. A km uphill, and we were panting and gasping for breath. However, our determination was too strong and the natural beauty was too compelling to stop us midway. We decided that we may make it slow but we WILL.

Taking innumerable breaks, talking to every passer-by, making friends all the way up and doing some photography all the while, we finally made it to Tungnath – the highest temple of Shiva (LINK) – one of the Panch Kedars.

The beauty of this temple is that it still maintains the natural structure. Constructed in stones, the temple merges with nature as part of it. The serenity of the atmosphere actually makes one feel closer to the almighty. There is no pushing or shoving for darshan and one can perform puja in peace, and can take as long as one wishes. No one seemed to be in hurry and rushing for the next activity.

Steps leading to Tungnath

I have no qualms in admitting that this was one of the rarest of temples, where I could actually imagine all my near and dear ones sitting next to me while I prayed to God.

Unfortunately, we could not muster courage and strength to trek another km to reach Chandrashila and get the surreal view of Himalayas. Nonetheless, we have already committed to ourselves for a second time; and then we will go more prepared, so no regrets.

After having some tea and consuming buns and butter which we tagged along, we started descending, which was comparatively easier. (Will write separately about the tea vendor we met in Tungnath).

It took us three hours to reach and more or less similar time to come down, although our hotel owner was surprised to see us back so quickly. Interestingly, it turned out that the trek was not 6 but around 9 km – the difference may be between the pathway and the shortcuts through the meadow, which we explored while coming back.

However, we were happy that at least we could make it!

Now, this Tungnath trek will always remain one of the key elements of our pilgrimage.

Rescuing a cat...

2017-04-24T13:52:00.001+05:30

It was a week-long story.
Cats getting stuck on big trees, high buildings, chimneys, and other such places that fascinate the feline creature, is a world-wide common phenomenon. First time, I was part of one such story.
We returned home after spending 4-5 days in Delhi, on the evening of 14th April. The first thing we noticed was the howling of a cat in the vicinity. Two days passed with intermittent crying. On every cry, we expressed our concern to each other, but we could not reckon the helplessness in the sound.
Eventually, we realised that the howling was not any ordinary mewing of a cat but was definitely a desperate SOS call. The Sherlock Holmes in us squirmed and we started our silent investigation.
The building we live in is three-storeyed with 12 flats. Adjacent to it, is the other block with similar set up. In total, we have 24 apartments in Block A and B. Out of these 24 flats, at least 10 were locked as its inmates were out.
The first challenge before us was to zero in as to which flats she has got stuck in. The search began. We mewed and she responded. We stood in front of every flat with our ears stuck to the locked doors. We made efforts to find out where she was locked in.
The neighbours looked at us weirdly. Their loud expressions cried hoarse that we were mad. Luckily, that did not deter us. We had our discovery of the day.
On the sixth day, we found that the poor creature was got locked in the balcony of the flat just below us.
We asked the caretaker to open the doors of that flat. Reluctantly enough, he opened the door. What happened next was expected. The hungry and irritated cat was so scared that she hid herself in the hole that contains all drain pipes.
The caretaker was not in a mood to wait outside and give the cat anytime to calm down and come out. He waited for 5 minutes by the clock and insisted that he had to lock the flat again. Our requests amused him as he refused to understand why a wild and stray cat can be so important for anyone.
At least we succeeded in motivating the man, who obviously had no compassion for animals, to leave open the doors of the grilled cage that secures the balcony.
Now, the cat was just below us. The doors of our balcony, and the balcony below us, were wide open. We could see the helpless cat, as she stepped out of the hiding minutes later the front door was locked again.
We started sending her comforting sounds, as many as we could make.
Our biggest concern was the wellbeing of the animal. Six days, or maybe more, without food or water, in scorching heat, was a serious issue.
This concern was motivating enough to make us think. We tied a small basket with a rope and put some milk in a bowl inside, and lowered the basket in the balcony below. We placed an aluminium foil in the basket the sound of which confirmed that the cat was eating the food. The basket carried water, then tinned Tuna and then some more milk and two days we kept feeding the poor creature.
Nevertheless, we needed to free the cat.
We forced the caretaker to open the doors of the flat again so that she can come out. They opened the door but stood there like police and once again the cat did not come out. She again locked herself midst drains.
The attitude of the caretaker was worse this time. He was a bit annoyed as we disturbed his siesta (of course, during duty hours). He appeared irritated and without even waiting for our advice, he announced that he was going to lock the door.
We were disappointed but we did not give up.
Now we were sure that the onus of saving her life was on us.We racked our brain, and eureka, the bulb of idea gave us light.
The door of the balcony cage just below us proved to be a window of opportunity.
This time we used a bigger basket and kept the food inside making sure that she had to sit inside the basket, to eat.
The moment she sat in the basket, we pulled it up.
Coming to our balcony was freedom which made the cat's rescue calls to an angry growl. She jumped on walls, over the washing machine, banged her head to the door. We quietly closed the balcony door leaving her there to acclimatise with this free but strange world.
She did not take much time in calming down.
We opened the balcony door and our front door and she zipped outside. Having gained energy with milk and Tuna, the cat jumped from the second floor to the ground and found a safe hiding under a car.
We quietly gave her food there so that she is safe and strong and thus free to mew around. We were happy that she is free but also sad as she had become the centre of our attention for last one week.
Now, I am sure we will miss her and look for her and wait to see her again, roaming free and healthy.

These photos are only symbolic

While they fill their coffers, someone chokes on their dust

2017-02-28T20:58:00.003+05:30

Knowing that one is passing through Kabrai city [LINK] is not a challenge for the ones with vision or hearing impairment. One doesn’t need to see the thick clouds of stone dust or hear the roaring of monstrous machines. Just normal breathing is enough to tell that one has entered Kabrai, as one invariably inhales the fine particles of that killing dust that comprise the air.

Kabrai is a city in the Indian state of Uttar Pradesh. It is part of Bundelkhand, infamous for decades of drought and frequent suicides by farmers.

On 21 February 2017, along with my colleague, I took the National Highway 76 [NH 76 - LINK] to travel from Chitrakoot to Mahoba, for work. Looking forward to viewing a beautiful countryside, we were appalled to the sight that was waiting for us.

I can vouch that the stretch of Highway in Kabrai is so far the most polluted site anywhere in the country.

My colleague is from Uttarakhand [LINK] the hill state that was carved out of Uttar Pradesh, and which is focusing on development without damaging the environment, was aghast to see the sacrilege.

I come from the state of Uttar Pradesh, even though; I was shocked to see the horrifying surroundings. I had travelled on this road in 2007, exactly 10 years ago. At that time also the environment was polluted but this time the situation was 100 times worse.

Nothing was visible on both sides of the highway as the air was filled with solid dust emerging from the horrendous stone crushers, chaotically functioning on both sides of the road.

Each leaf of every plant and big trees had a thick coating of white stone dust. We all know that plants breathe from leaves. How much the vegetation in Kabrai is thriving, that can be anyone’s guess.

The houses were covered in a thick white shroud of dust. (See pictures)

The health of the people living in this area, and most importantly those working in these crushers, is definitely at risk. There have been stories of people suffering from Asthma or Tuberculosis but the danger and threat to the lives of people has remained restricted to sporadic newspaper reports, on which no action has ever been taken.

The indiscriminate stone crushing is also changing the topography of the area. Bundelkhand is known for its rocky hills which give it a picturesque look.

However, now these mute rocky hills are gradually turning into plane surfaces. Some rocks which the greedy industrialists are digging ruthlessly to get stones, present an obnoxious and ugly picture. The diggers have gone so deep that water has emerged from the ground (See pictures).

Once they finish with one rocky hill, they simply move on to the other, leaving the first one raped and molested brutally.

My colleague was bewildered as to why no environmentalist has ever filed a Public Interest Litigation (PIL) so a legal check could have been enforced on the stone mafia of the state.

On reaching Mahoba and talking to a different section of people answered all our queries.

The whole state of Uttar Pradesh is thriving on quarrying mafia, sand mafia, stone mafia, and many other types of mafia – all white-collared, mostly politicians or their close mates.

We were told that on that highway there are 375 stone crushers in an area of 10 kilometres.

Of these, 36 belong to Siddh Gopal Sahu. The influential man started his political career as Panchayat Chairman. Even since, he has headed the Laghu Udyog Vikas Nigam (Small Industries Development Corporation) and has been a Minister for Mining, in Uttar Pradesh. He has contested the current assembly election also this time.

Other 10 crushers belong to Raj Narain Budhaulia – another powerful politician of the state. He has been known for party hopping to stay close to the power.

The rest also belong to powerful and influential people, having major political affiliations that help them carry on with their work without any hindrance.

We were also told that tragedies are common in these crushers, obviously with no record of people dying. People who work in these stone crushers do not get any safety gears.

Moreover, the cost of ‘settling’ a labourer’s death is mere Rs 30,000 (Approximately US$ 455), that too doesn’t go to his family. This money includes payments to various stakeholders, including Police and Media to keep the matter under wraps or project it in such a way that it does not come under the purview of compensation.

Some residents with high credentials also claim that the District Magistrate is the in charge of collecting money from the crushers to carry it forward to his/her superiors in the government.

Anyone who raises a voice against the damage to the environment, or reports any casualty, the influential well-connected, ruthless industrialists cum politicians cum contractors cum mafia not only crush that voice, but even gag that throat that is causing the noise.

Even the Centre for Science & Environment (CSE) that normally dares to speak against all big-wig playing with environment, has been silent on these stone quarrying and stone crushers.

Giving CSE a benefit of doubt, I believe they are not even aware of any such thing happening on a National Highway passing through Uttar Pradesh.

Hence, there is business as usual!

When a smooth drive turned into an adventure!

2017-01-13T13:50:00.000+05:30

When we decided to pack our bags and leave for some tempting place, for Christmas holidays, adventure was the last thing on our minds. What we had been planning was a quiet and peaceful holiday. However, as they say: Man proposes, God disposes, our journey was meant to be something else than what we had planned.

Since 302 km Lucknow-Agra expressway had been inaugurated by the Uttar Pradesh Chief Minister Akhilesh Yadav, and on his orders it was also to be opened for public on 23 December, our logic told us that it would be ready a day in advance, except finishing touches.

Aiming to avoid the traffic of driving enthusiasts, who, we thought, would be hitting the road when it is opened for public, we decided to leave a day in advance, on 22 December.

Soon, we realised that we were tad too optimistic, or we took the Uttar Pradesh government a bit too seriously. Whereas, when the government says open it for public, it doesn't really mean it.

So, the early morning we were set for our brief Christmas holiday sojourn. Our nearly 12-year-old humble but fiercely loyal Hyundai Santro was all decked up with new head lights, fog lamps and brand spanking tyres. Excited, we headed towards Lucknow-Agra Expressway. Getting out of Lucknow never felt like this ever before.

Our happiness knew no boundary when we spotted the first sign: "Welcome to India's longest Lucknow-Agra Expressway". The sign displayed a poked-faced Chief Minister Akhilesh Yadav. The road was smooth with practically zero traffic. We were so proud of our decision to leave a day early (on 22 December) and thought the drive would be a memorable one.

But, it was too early to feel at the top of the world. Looking back, I feel we were optimistic fools!

Our's was the only car on the black tarmac road. There were no more signs, after the Chief Minister welcoming us - not even for diversions. There were workers, machines and lorries all along the way.

Yet, it didn't make us suspicious. The argument was if the road was to be opened for public a day later, it has to be complete a day before even with diversions.

The workers were either fixing the fence on the divider or erecting the railing on the sides of the road. At places, there were big machines and vehicle busy in digging and carrying construction material. We kept enquiring the workers about the condition of the road further, but got no hint of any road block.

However, our positive attitude could not take us far. The reality was soon staring us in the face. As we crossed Kannauj, there was a big machine blocking both sides of the road - a bridge was under construction. We were taken aback - especially because no worker on the highway confronted that the road was incomplete, or in a state where it would take at least 3 months for it to be useable.

Disappointed, we took a U turn, hoping to find some slip road to come off the expressway. Luckily, we spotted a lorry on a temporary road made for lorries to carry the construction material. Thanks to Hyundai technology, we dared to take our humble vehicle on that freshly-poured mud road. Driving carefully for about 200 metres, we finally touched an old and narrow but tarmac road.

Driving on this road for over 80 KM we found ourselves on the same old National Highway 2, which we usually take to drive to Delhi. There was no way that could have connected us to Expressway again.

Anyway, we were still happy that at least we have been able to avoid the traffic jam in Kanpur.

What else! we had to justify our decision and our faith in the government.

The lesson we got was "not to take government announcements on face value."

Our advice: All those who are planning to drive on Yamuna Expressway via Lucknow-Agra Expressway - Beware, the road will not be ready in at least 3 months. So, take the old tried and tested National Highway 2 to reach the Yamuna Expressway.

P.S. This was just the beginning of our journey. Watch this place for more adventures and fun which we had until reaching home safely after a fortnight.

I live in a HOME!

2016-10-03T08:59:00.003+05:30

"I live in a Home!"

It was not a statement but sort of a question.

These five words, she spoke casually, but with a stress on the word 'home'. There was a pregnant pause. Her eyes wide open, were questioning everyone sitting across the dining table. She was trying to gauge our understanding. She wanted to know if we were able to grasp what she wanted to convey.

She resumed her story only after scanning the eyes of each one of us and assuring herself of our understanding.

The expression of her face, the quizzing eyes and the confused lips that didn't know whether to spread in a smile or quiver to cry - it was a moment that is going to stay in my mind for long, if not forever.

Her wide questioning eyes brought back so many feelings in a flash of a second. They dragged me down memory lane when I was an adolescent and living a carefree life in my 'home', protected by loving parents and siblings. That was the best time of my life - no worries, no tension only eat, play and study. I never tried to analyse or dig deep into the meeting of the word 'home'. For me, it was simply a place where my parents were and which gave me happiness and where I felt safe, protected, loved, happy and carefree.

However, this young girl changed my perspective and compelled me to look at the other side of the coin as well. Her 'home' was different to my 'home'. Her experiences of living in a 'home' are different to my experiences of living in a 'home'.

She is 15 and lives in a Shelter Home. I will not name her or share her whereabouts as I respect her private space. However, I must share my feelings which have been bursting ever since, inside me.

Until I met this girl, I couldn't fathom that one simple word like 'home' can have such different connotations for different people.

The meaning of the word 'home' has changed for me, forever.

Pink is the New Red (Bold)

2016-09-18T07:16:00.001+05:30

I am not a movie critic. I am not a Hindi movie buff either. I rather relish English movies simply because the acting in not loud, there are no unnecessary songs and dances, and they are a tad more realistic.

Nevertheless, I do watch Hindi cinema occasionally when there is something out of the box, such as the latest Hindi flick, Pink.

The movie overwhelmed me, and compelled me to express my emotions publicly. Being a mother of a young daughter, I could easily and very well relate to it. With each dialogue and scene, I dived deep within.

Before I start with my story, firstly, my heartfelt congratulations to the director for raising such a relevant issue that concerns every girl and every parent.

Secondly, a big thanks to the dialogue writer for not beating around the bush but calling a spade a spade. It was a treat to see people talking openly on the screen about issues that are considered a taboo in Indian society. For example, pre-marital sex, virginity, or women taking hard liquor in the company of their male friends – I don’t think the director left any issue, which needed to be raised.

And most importantly, kudos to the perfect casting. I cannot think of a better cast. Every character was well chosen and played his/her part so realistically and beautifully that I could not contain my eyes from filling up on several occasions.

As the story unfolded, I started missing my daughter sitting next to me and both of us crying together.

She recently expressed her desire to live an independent life and learn how to survive alone without the family cushion. She wants to face her own struggles in making her life instead of piggy riding someone – be her mother, brother, boyfriend or husband. She wants to feel self-reliant to deal with her own issues.

The girls shown in the movie were no different. But, they were seen as promiscuous because they live alone, go out in the evenings with friends (read boys) and drink hard liquor! My children faced all these behind-the-back gossip of neighbours and even distant family members who did not approve the way I was bringing up my children – in an open environment.

Thank God, I don’t belong to that clan who have different rules for girls and boys. I never paid any heed to what people said and did what I thought was the best – to give my children their space, which every grown up individual needs, to evolve and flourish.

The movie refreshed the memory of a conversation I recently had with my daughter, while having a straight-from-the-heart talk. That was one of our emotional moments. She was talking about a boy who proposed to her and she refused. The boy was persistent which annoyed and irritated her. But, she remained friendly and polite to him. I asked why wasn’t she straight to him on the issue, and what she said not only shocked me but also opened my eyes to the problems of the new world. She said she was dead scared of acid attack and the ghost of that probable threat forced her to be ‘nice’ to the person, whom she could not stand, forget about loving. She didn’t want to annoy him to tthat extent where he may throw acid on her.

What Pink showed – the revenge of a hurt male ego, underlined the seriousness and the base of my daughter’s fears. I must admit that after ages I have seen a movie which really touched my core.

This is one film, I believe, every parent should go and watch with their children. It will not only help parents in understanding their children’s needs, fears, aspirations, weaknesses, and strengths, but will also help them remove their blinkers and see things in a broad spectrum, and treat their children as humans, individuals, and the grown-up, responsible citizens who have the right to choose what kind of life they want to live.

Solo Sojourn – Part Three

2016-05-06T22:15:00.003+05:30

The Perfect End

Landour is a place set up by the British and today it is owned mostly by the army. Therefore buying and and getting new random construction done is not easy. The restrictions have increased the liveability of the place. It is not crowded. There are no touristy shopping areas, unlike places in Mussoorie or any other tourist site.

In the name of shopping, there are Chaar Dukaan (four shops which have now increased to five) and the Sisters’ Bazaar with mere three shops (which I gave the details of earlier).

Although there is a Landour market, it is the local market selling the utility stuff for the residents of the area.

What makes Landour worth visiting is its serene scenic beauty or a chance meeting with the author Ruskin Bond, albeit meeting him is next to impossible, if you lack information and are not prepared accordingly. Bond visits Cambridge Book Store every Saturday and sits there for a couple of hours. If you are lucky to be in Landour on a Saturday and you have the knowledge of him being at the shop, and you have his book, you can get his autograph.

We were there on Monday and Tuesday. So, we already lost this chance. However, being persuasive we decided to see his house, at least. For us, even that was a privilege, which made us stand apart others who have not seen the humble abode of this great writer.

The day’s agenda was fixed.

Luckily we were staying at a place which was just above his house. Walking down a few steps and we were standing in front of his house on the second floor! We spoke to the lady living on the first floor and admired or rather envied her luck to have been living at such advantageous location.

Looking up, trying to steal a glimpse and idea struck us. We left the place and went to Chaar Dukaan for our breakfast. Whom we meet there? Our friend from the army, whom we had met the previous evening! We exchanged pleasantries and chatted for a while before it was time for him to get ready for office and for us to fill our appetite.

We decided to hog at the Tip Top Tea Stall – running from 1826 and famous for its pancakes. Today it is the fifth generation of Agarwal family from Meerut (Uttar Pradesh) that is running the shop. This is also the place visited by Sachin Tendulkar whenever he visits Landour for a leisure time at his builder friend from Mumbai, Sanjay Narang’s property.

The pancakes stood by their reputation. We ordered two but on seeing the first one requested the young lady cooking it, to cancel the order for the other.

Now was the time to execute the idea that had struck while staring at Ruskin Bond’s house. We bought two copies of one of his books, which is a compilation of information on green (forests) by various writers, from the tea stall. Yes, the tea stall is only a name which is going for over a century. The cafe houses books, other knick-knacks besides being a full-fledged cafe.

We were ready to tap our luck. As it is said a positive mind can do wonders. We were sure that we would succeed in our endeavour and our trip would be fruitful. With bright eyes, happy faces and a positive mind we started walking back to Mr Bond’s house.

We reached the house – painted in white with red window arches and a small roof top garden. About ten narrow steps were leading to his house and our destination. We looked at each other. It seems we both were getting strength from one another. A child-like enthusiasm had gripped us as we had decided that we would not leave the town without getting our mission accomplished.

Our hearts were beating fast when we rang the bell. There was no sound from inside. It appeared that the owner of the house had missed the bell. We waited looking anxiously at each other – keeping quiet though. It was the same scare that we may have felt years ago in our childhood, on being spotted by our most strict teacher.

But, now our age gave us enough courage to ring the bell again. And this time, the door opened!

We saw him standing there holding each door in his each hand, calling Bina – “Bina, look who is at the door – Ruskin is not home!”

For a second our hearts sank. We melted hearing him speak but froze thinking we may have annoyed him by ringing the bell twice. There was an uncomfortable silence until Bina came down.

A nice lady with a beautiful face and a gentle smile was standing in front of us. She looked confused. Her eyes were transparent. She was thinking why these two women have come here when everyone knows that Mr Bond doesn’t meet anyone!

Before she could ask us to leave, I held her hand and told her our intention and inclination. I told her that we just wanted to get our books autographed and we had no intention of troubling Mr Bond. We were not interested in selfies with the writer and we also didn’t intend to disturb his peace. We were just keen to have those books which we bought from the Tea Stall, autographed.

Bina went in. We waited with baited breath. Looking at each other weighing whether he would or he wouldn’t. I was though confident that Mr Bond would oblige us. This confidence had emerged from our genuineness. Meanwhile, Bina returned. Her humble face confirmed that she has succeeded in making our day.

We opened the books and jumped with joy seeing our name written in Mr Bond’s hand. We were on cloud nine. We thanked Bina from the core of our heart. She was the Lady Luck for us that day.

Now, was the time for a selfie! A well deserved selfie! Standing on those narrow steps we clicked a couple with our prized possession in our hands! We were giggling, holding each other’s hands. We couldn’t stop smiling. We had made it! That was the perfect end to our trip to Landour!

We walked 3 km down to Mussoorie taxi stand in the bright sun. But, the happiness inside kept us cool. It was the most amazing, gratifying and rejuvenating getaway that I had ever made.

We didn’t mind paying for the full taxi. We didn’t mind when the taxi driver detoured from the usual road. We thought it helped us see a different route to Dehradun. Exhilarated, we finished the wine leftover from the previous night. We did in two days what sometimes we are unable to do in even twenty days!

The steps leading to Mr Ruskin Bond's house

We waited for him to peep through those arched windows

The door at the left that he opened and took our breath away

The house is as beautiful as his stories

The steps from where Bina came down as an angel for us

We were enamoured by the aesthetic house decor

Our proud, invaluable and much cherished possession

The house

Solo Sojourn - Part Two

2016-05-05T22:15:00.002+05:30

Many people would say how much one can see in one day and they would put off their plan for brief adventures. Not me! I strongly believe in the art of zen and live every moment. For me, a day has 24 hours which are sufficient to utilise wisely and beautifully.

With this philosophy, my friend and I decided to spend a day in Landour - the less travelled part of Mussoorie - the queen of hills. We were lucky as the moment we arrived at the taxi stand, we found two boys who were waiting for two more passengers. We quickly agreed to accompany and our old driver started revving even older Ambassador on the hills.

We had just started admiring the scenery, the car stopped after a few jerks. The driver tried to fix the engine a few times before giving up. Now we are on the hilly highway with a broken engine. But when you are on an adventure trip you are ready for anything. Everything seems to add to fun. Ad when one is positive, all goes well. The driver called for another vehicle while we spotted a dhaba (roadside restaurants).

This was time for some photography/selfies over a cup of tea and an omelette-bun sandwich. Soon, the journey began again.

We reached Mussoorie while talking to the boys who were going to organise some corporate event in some hotel, using smiley balls. They got out in Mussoorie where the taxi was supposed to drop us. But, Landour was another 3 km on a steep hill. We used our elderly charm and cajoled the driver to drop us at Chaar Dukaan (Four Shops) for Rs 200 as opposed to Rs 500 what he was asking for.

Chaar Dukaan used to have four shops and hence the name. However, now there are five shops. The additional shop has emerged in the place of a post office. The place had been set up by British and it still has their touch and feel. Pancakes, waffles and hot chocolate are a few most popular items on sale.

We had some hot chocolate. Got our bearings and decide to explore the place. It was afternoon when we reached Landour and by the time we finished admiring the natural beauty, the deodar trees and the serene and surreal beauty of the place, it was alrady evening. Since our trip was only for a day and we had to leave in the morning, we decided to walk to Sisters' Bazaar (Sisters' Market).

Walking uphill with our day packs on our backs we were mesmerised by the sounds of various birds. We were trying to recognise and differentiate one from the other. The walk was steep but the cool and fresh air, the greenery and quietness was refreshing. We saw the famous language school in Landour where students come from different countries to learn Indian languages.

Sisters' Bazaar has just three shops - two old ones - one Prakash provisions, selling homemade jams, pickles and peanut butter and the other Prakash Handicraft, selling woollens and other nick nacks at extorting prices. We had gone with an intention to pick up some. Not able to decide which one, I picked up one of each flavour of jam, along with some pickle, peanut butter and of course a bottle of wine. The stuff was so much that I had to buy a bag as well.

Carrying those 10 kgs of glass jars with jams in that jute bag, my hand was developing blisters. But I told myself that we do not do such things everyday. And the old saying - what doesn't kill you makes you stronger - was giving me strength.

We decided to take it easy while walking so that we take rest and also admire the forests, neatly paved road, and quaint houses. One such house caught our attention and we stopped.

At that time a gentleman walking by stopped and informed us that it was the house of a Bollywood actor Victor Banerjee. Staring at the house, we saw a worker in the house and asked if we can go inside to have a look. His curt answer was: "No."

Our interest shifted to the stranger we had just met. We started talking and found out that he works in the army. He had some connection to Lucknow as well. A courteous man, he asked if we have booked a place for the night and was surprised to know that we hadn't. Remember it was an adventure trip!

Next thing - he offered us that he could arrange our stay at their guest house!

After half an hour of conversation we left the place not believing that lady luck was on our side.

By the time we were down at Chaar Dukaan it was dark and dinner time. Leisure and hills make one hungry and we were famished. We stopped at Ivy Bank Cafe - an aesthetically done cafe serving a wide variety of food. The cafe is run by a youngster - again who has relatives in Lucknow. Without wasting any minute we asked him to give us discount at his Ivy Bank hotel and book a room while we finish our meal.

The food (thin crust pizza and cheese & chips) was gorgeous. Weight watching and calorie counting was not in our list of things to do. We were looking forward to checking in and open the bottle of wine to celebrate our friendship and the carefree age.

It was dark and we decided to explore another road via Lal Tibba to go down to reach our hotel. It was a beautiful walk but before we arrived at a junction. Not knowing which way to go to reach our hotel we were looking for someone for directions. And there she appeared - a friendly girl from Korea. She is learning Urdu at the language school to study the Kashmir problem in future.

She not only showed us the way, she accompanied us to the hotel and also gave us a hand in carrying our shopping.

The hotel was a beautiful one and we not even for a moment regretted our decision to not accept the army officer's offer. Although being civil, we did send a text informing him that we had found a place.

It was time to open the bottle and say cheers to our adventure. I find 50 is the new 30 and feel the same. Our day was wonderful. Now we had only one thing on our minds - locate the house of the famous author Ruskin Bond, in the morning.

We finished half bottle of wine and called it a beautiful day...

Solo Sojourn - Part One

2016-05-04T21:25:00.006+05:30

I generally do not like to plan my holidays. I feel planning is required in work. Leisure does not need any planning. Planning makes a holiday boring and regimental. The only planning I do is to tell work people not to bother me. The close ones know my whereabouts so that they can reach me if there is a need.

So keeping to my nature, I decided to join a dear friend of mine in Dehradun in Uttarakhand state for a couple of days. Both of us free birds with children settled and having crossed the actual line of middle age, i.e, 50.

One minus point of sudden getaways is finding a cheap ticket! Getting reservation in Indian trains is tougher than climbing the everest. Flights tickets are always skyrocket if you need them on an urgent basis. The only option I was left with was taking a bus.

Excited, I booked for a 12-hour journey on a volvo bus. Everyone in the family was happy for my adventure trip. Adventure, because this was the first time I decided to travel alone for leisure. I travel alone extensively for work but never for a holiday.

This was my first sojourn - solo with a backpack.

One of my friend suggested that I should have used my journalist accreditation card which give me the privilege to travel up to 3000 km in government owned buses without paying even a single paise. I refused, saying it was my personal trip.

Soon, I was thanking my decision. A man, drunk to the glory, boarded the bus. He proclaimed he was a journalist and knew all the top bosses in the government. He fought for the front seat, reserved for journalists. He scolded every vendor who entered the bus to sell their products. He shouted at the driver and the conductor for delaying the bus. However, he could not keep himself conscious for long. The moment the bus started moving, his snoring and the typical Hindi music in the bus started vying with each other for attention.

I became sure that the journey that has become with such colourful note will definitely be interesting!
I settled down with my kindle. Soon, the lights were off and everyone went off to sleep. I also tried to give my eyes some rest. But, before I could actually sleep, I felt a commotion in the bus. It was 02:00 am. Lights were on. We were at a junction in a small town and the driver did not know where he had to go! He got off the bus to ask for directions.

The government bus and the government driver - but he did not know the way to Dehradun. Meanwhile, an over-enthusiastic youth started his GPS. With authority he asked the driver to turn left. The driver, not having a clue, turned left. Now we were on a 10-feet narrow village road with no light and not even a single soul in sight.

The road straight from a horror movie gave jitters to many. Another man started his GPS and now there were two navigators guiding a clueless driver. The first one asked all passengers to wake up: "It is not the time to sleep, but stay awake." He also ordered to the driver: "Do not stop the bus, come what may."

After two hours of adventure, everyone realised that we were on a wrong road. We should have been on a highway but we were on some village road. Anyhow, we finally found the highway. I calculated that in last seven hours we have reached only Bareilly which is only 250 km from Lucknow and should not have taken more than five hours.

Thus the bus became two hours late. In the morning I asked the driver as to why he deviated from the normal highway. His answer was: "I was sleeping and a new boy was driving. He didn't know the way but he didn't wake me up also."

The response should have come as a shock to me but it didn't. Staying in Uttar Pradesh state for long has made me immune to such nonsensical things as they are routine here.

The bus that should have been at its destination at 08:00, reached at 11:00.

I was late. My friend had already reached Dehradun. I was tired as I couldn't sleep a wink. Sitting in the bus for 15 hours all my joints had frozen.

Yet, I was not feeling frustrated at all. I feel the reason why I found everything amusing was the beautiful morning and stunning natural beauty which was there to welcome us as the day broke. I was in Devbhumi (The Land of God)!

Let your ears bleed or bleed to death

2016-02-20T10:39:00.002+05:30

Last night, I could not sleep even a wink because of the deafening sound of some religious event taking place in the vicinity. The incessant noise stopped only in the morning when it was time for me to start my day. I am sure those who had been shouting their lungs out throughout the night were tired by now and had dozed off, after ruining the much-needed sleep of many like me.

Similar was the case two nights ago, when a party carried on in the neighbourhood, although then the blaring volume of the music was lowered around midnight, to our relief.

Indian courts have time and again issued directives for public to not use loud speakers for any reason - religious or merriment - after 22:30 hrs.

But, who gives a damn to any court directive? At least no one in Uttar Pradesh, for sure!

Many a times, we had to get out of bed in the middle of the night, changed clothes and step out in our neighbourhood to request the enthusiastic revellers to calm down. Sometimes they honour our request but often to only increase the volume again, the moment we turn our backs.

There were occasions, when we had to dial 100 (the police help) which turned out to be our bigger nightmare. The police, instead of taking the necessary action against the miscreants, started harassing us - asking us all sorts of questions - your age, profession, your neighbour's name, what time do you sleep, how far is your place from the location where the noise is coming from, etc. etc.

However, no more I will be complaining about this late night noise business - neither I will volunteer to appeal the noise makers to go quiet nor I will trouble the police to intervene. Rather, I would suffer in silence while the inconsiderate revellers and religious fanatics can go beyond all possible decibels.

Why? The reason is good enough.

This week, a family in the Badaun district of Uttar Pradesh was having a party. The euphorics had forgotten the fact that they live in a society of humans who needed to rest at night. The word courtesy was alien to them. Unable to sleep, the tortured neighbourhood complained and the poor cops reached the spot to tame the people who were causing the racket.

The ruckus-makers proved to be mightier than the police. The crowd was high on spirits of revelry and music had blocked their senses. Dancing to the rhythm of blaring noise and swaying on cheap alcohol that had numbed their sense of rationality, the revellers picked up a fight with the police force.

The fight took an ugly turn. The cop who had led the team was thrashed and beaten to death whereas his other mates were left badly injured.

Undeterred and unmoved, the party-makers were back to their noisy business leaving the cops to fend for their lives.

The incident has underlined the level of sensitivity and consideration such people have for their co-citizens. After this incident, any person in his or her right senses will not dare disturb their inconsiderate neighbours who live in oblivion and have no sense of their civic duties.

In future, I will never complain about loud noises at night. I will learn to live with it or learn to sleep with earplugs on.

I would rather let my ear bleed than bleed to death!

Prison - A Writer's Den

2016-02-02T12:49:00.000+05:30

The founder of Sahara India Group of companies, Subrata Roy, who is more popular as 'Sahara Shri' has brought out his first book, 'The Life Mantras'.

With this book, the clever businessman, who started with a small chit-fund company but grew to it a multi-million rupees worth asset, has became an author. This is the first book of the trilogy, he claims.

The news of the book release forced me to put my job aside, instead jot some musings and share them with my friends and well-wishers.

Jails, I conclude, create a conducive environment for writing. It started in the mid-1940s when Jawahar Lal Nehru wrote 'The Discovery of India', sitting inside the four walls of a prison. The book became an epic.

The reason maybe the isolation in prison that provides ample time to go on an inward journey and introspect.

With nothing much to do - provided you are a VIP prisoner and enjoy some privileges that the ordinary prisoners cannot even dream of, as they are supposed to be involved in hard manual labour, which leaves them dead tired to even indulge in any fantasy, leave aside writing), jail throws at prisoners the opportunity to mull over their deeds - good or bad and judgements - right or wrong.

The silence gives enough concentration to think about the future course of life. The person can formulate his strategies for the time when he or she will be able to breath the fresh air.

The jail surroundings, it seems, assist the prisoners - of course the ones who have in them at least some traces of creative intelligence, to find their muse. Sitting alone in the dark and damp corners of their cells, with no distraction, they let their imagination take a flight.

One need not be Nehru to pen a book from jail, anyone can do it.

Babloo Srivastava, a noted criminal from Uttar Pradesh wrote a book from jail. Once he completed the book, Babloo proudly came out for its release. Dressed in his usual smart attire, hiding behind his RayBan Aviators, he appeared as cool and fresh as summer breeze.

And now, Sahara Shri has turned into an author. Knowing his chances of coming out in the free world are dismal, he has already decided to write a trilogy.

The prison exposing the latent talent of people is an intriguing issue that served as fuel for my curiosity. I spent a few hours on Google to enlighten me on the issue and what I laid my hands on baffled me.

Amazon has a dedicated section LINK on books written in prison.

Wikipedia has a separate page on prison literature LINK

If nothing else, at least this Subrata Roy's Life Mantras has done one thing - it has inspired me to read the books that have been authored behind bars.

Tame Your Drivers First!

2016-01-13T15:36:00.000+05:30

Indian film actress and the Member Parliament (MP) from Bhartiya Janata Party (BJP) Hema Malini met with serious accidents on the Yamuna Expressway (between Greater NOIDA and Agra) twice in less than six months. The MP expressed her concern for increasing accidents. First time her car was reported to have been going at 150 km per hour.

Concern is being expressed by traffic police and the Uttar Pradesh (UP) Government as well. The government in this backward state is struggling to control the chaotic traffic, especially on Lucknow (the state capital) roads.

Unfortunately, one fact that neither Hema Malini nor the UP Government understood is the reality that accidents or traffic cannot be controlled unless the people on the road are well aware of the traffic rules and abide by them; and at the same time the executing authorities implement them strictly and impartially.

What I have noticed - and I am sure others would also have - is that the biggest violators of traffic rules are those who use powerful machines - MUVs and SUVs - which, I have no qualms in pointing out, in most cases belong to either politicians or their henchmen, relatives, other distant family members or acquaintances.

Other vehicles, which top in flouting the traffic rules, generally bear the signs, such as, 'Government of India' or 'Uttar Pradesh Government' - prominently displayed on the registration number plate - nonchalantly staring at every other vehicle belonging to lesser mortals, called 'law-abiding Indian citizen'.

These powerful vehicles are normally decorated with tiaras on their heads in the form of blue or red beacon and many of them are also equipped with sirens. Their drivers, as a rule, are rude and misbehaved goons. Sitting proudly behind the powerful steering of their huge vehicles, they carry an attitude loudly proclaiming 'I am even bigger than my boss'. They behave also in the same way.

Unruly, these drivers take it their right to park the car at any place whereever they fancy. They can take a wrong turn on any one-way street and disturb the whole traffic. They take it for granted that the road belongs to them and the ones like them. They can scare to death any pedestrian with their shrill horns and zooming speed.

Daring to challenge them is calling for serious trouble. Of course, as they are surrounded by weaponed security force - that has been provided to the politician. They can use any kind of derogatory language to threaten or scare you. The traffic cops are afraid of them as they can manipulate their transfer to some godforsaken place.

The most upsetting aspect of the issue is that many times the bureaucrat and politician keep sitting in the car when the driver is violating the traffic law. Instead of asking to driver to mend his ways, these lawmakers prefer to remain oblivious of the world outside their vehicle. They quietly become party to wrong their illiterate and uneducated driver is indulging in without foreseeing the serious repercussions of traffic violations.

Take these examples:
Being a frequent traveller to Delhi (many times by road via Yamuna Expressway) I have noticed that the speed limit for cars is 100 km/h. I maintain my speed to 100 km/h but what I witness is that many government or politicians' vehicles zoom pass me. The only sound I hear is 'vroom...' and the vehicle is out of sight. Speeding is a normal phenomenon with government or politicians' cars. The justification given by the owners of these speeding vehicles is that they are busy and are required to reach at places. So why not start early? The common man also needs to reach places in time!

Recently, the district administration in Lucknow has introduced one-way system at various places. Two days back, I was walking on one such road and a politician's vehicle tried to come on that road from the wrong side. The cop tried but not enough. The driver's big vehicle was enough to demoralise and intimidate the poor traffic cop. He let the vehicle go on the wrong side causing hazard for all the vehicles and each pedestrian.

Suggestions:
Each driver holding the powerful steering of today's fast machines should undergo extensive training (it is a fact that most of the government drivers and also politicians' drivers have never learnt driving in a proper way, and if a test is conducted for them, most will fail). These government drivers are more used to holding a whip generally used for steer a bullock cart rather than holding a power steering wheel of powerful 21st century machines zooming on roads. Along with driving they also need to learn the traffic rules and the meaning behind all those yellow and white lines on the road, which I am sure they have no clue about.

Hema Malini's car was also over-speeding. She is a literate woman. Being an MP, she is also expected to behave responsibly. Twice she met with accidents but the question is why didn't she ever scold her driver to drive safely, carefully and not crossing the speed limit?

Same suggestion goes for the government of Uttar Pradesh as well. First tame your own drivers and make sure that they do not flout any traffic rule, rather they follow the traffic law just like any other citizen. If a common man sees a politician's or bureaucrat's car being lifted from the non-parking area, or the driver being issued a challan for entering a one-way street from the wrong side or for over-speeding, he/she will never dare to violate the law.

If cops are wearing helmets (in Lucknow none of the policemen uses a helmet when riding a bike) or government drivers wear seat belts, they can set precedence for others.

As it is said: 'Children imitate their parents' or 'Practice before you preach' or 'Charity begins at home' - the politicians and government servants should lead by setting examples. The rest of the traffic will automatically fall in place.