Probal's Ramblings

Koi Dekh Lega

noreply@blogger.com (Probal Chatterjee) — Wed, 26 Nov 2014 16:48:00 +0000

It was hot summer afternoon but cloudy, an afternoon which looks great on a movie setup but tough on those who have to bear it actually.
Threat of global warming was still few decades away. Indira Gandhi was still the prime minister of India.

Looking back after 3 decades it was one of those days. I was pedaling away dad’s rickety bicycle returning from Christ Church College completely unaware that next one hour will leave an indelible impression on my life.

I lived in Defence Colony Shantinagar in cantonment area of Kanpur. Those who are aware of the landscape would know cantonment area and main city is segregated by a flurry of railway tracks. In those days Mall Road was ‘hot and happening’ place of the city. Mall road would come to an end on one side of the track and cantonmentt would start on other side.
On the way back through mall road once I crossed Heer Palace and Sundar Talkies I would get an adrenaline rush. View of newly constructed fly over (the railway tracks) gave an excitement. Fun of reaching the top and then letting go the control of cycle, coming down on the other side of flyover gaining speed was only matched by having mango shake opposite phoolbagh paying through carefully saved pocket money. I was 17!

There! She was standing in front of Prashanta Chatterjee’s house who had an orchestra party and only competitor to Hellions.
You cannot miss a girl in deserted summer afternoon especially if she is wearing that awful pink coloured skirt, Juhari Devi uniform. You cannot miss even if you wish to, when she is hailing you to stop your charade and alight.

आपको भयया ने मेरे बारे मे कुछ बताया होगा.

You are hit by reality. Standing in front of me was younger sister of Ramesh Saraf. Ramesh was few years senior to me and we all lived in same colony. Ramesh was regular member of our gully cricket and few weeks back he did mention to me about ‘Guddi’. Ramesh wanted me to teach ‘Guddi’ mathematics. I was just few weeks outside class XII and ‘Guddi’ few months in class IX.

थोड़ा उधर चलें? यहाँ कोई देख लेगा.

I assembled my limbs together, rapped my brains for giving confusing signals and followed her towards the road that ultimately goes to lal bangla. It was a strange sight a gangly guy on khaki trousers and a girl with pink skirt walking down a street and a rickety cycle giving them company. I was still on those khaki trousers which were my uniform during XII, new pairs may come only during Durga puja.

मैने सोचा आपको बता दूं. मेरी दादी ने मना कर दिया आपको मुझे गणित पढ़ाने की बात पर. उनका कहना है आपकी उम्र ठीक नही है मुझे पढ़ाने के लिए.
भयया ने आपको कुछ भी बोला हो पर सच यही है.
अब मैं चलती हूँ, आप दूसरे रास्ते से साइकल पर चले जाइए और किसिको बोलिएगा मत की मैं आपसे मिली थी.

I don’t recall if I uttered a single phrase during the entire conversation. Mind had too many things to process and too little time.

17 is indeed a dangerous age. Your mind looks only at possibilities completely ignoring the constraints. Ramesh asked me to teach his sister and asked me for fee amount. I directed him to my father who was aghast at the thought of charging a fee for helping out someone. It was beyond me why my age was a factor. I had no one whom I could ask more so because ‘Guddi’ asked me not to discuss it with anyone.

Few months later ‘Saraf’ family shifted to another colony and less than 2 years later I moved out of Kanpur.
Never met her again after that fateful afternoon.

What the heck I don’t even know what was her school name, certainly it was not ‘Guddi’.

That’s it about my conversation with feminine kind where first time unsaid words had more impact than said one. Over the years I realized that most definitive sign that you have grown up when someone says ‘कोई देख लेगा’

Durga Puja for Probashi

noreply@blogger.com (Probal Chatterjee) — Mon, 28 Oct 2013 14:21:00 +0000

“When is Mahalaya?”

“On 7th Oct.”

My father was enquiring, few days back.

For the uninitiated mahalaya, officially marks the beginning of Durga Puja festival. It’s the day when Durga finally wins over Mahishasur. However all that is for pundits, for us it is the countdown towards final four days of unadulterated fun.

This year though it is starting on bit of a somber note. My father suffers from alzheimer’s. Over the years it has gone from bad to worse. His memory mixes up time and memories across decades. So coming back to the conversation, it went like this between my mom and dad –

“So everything is planned?”

“What?”

“Bibhuti and his family are invited? Your mama etc. will be coming down the night before.”

My father does not realize that he is rattling of plans and practices 35 years ago, when we were staying in Kanpur, which the traditional Bengal calls as “Probash”. In IT parlance an “onsite”, where you stay for years but never really home. It was different for me though; I was born and grew up in that city. I had no idea about any other home.

Days before ‘mahalaya’, invitations were sent out to come and stay with us from the night before so that all of us can wake up at 4 am to listen to All India Radio dance drama. Not all had the privilege of owning a radio. It was same stuff repeated year after year on radio and our rituals were same year after year.

Anticipation and excitement was palpable, if we will wake up in time? Will the large size radio will be able to catch the AIR signal? Most importantly, if the electricity will let us enjoy. Those were the days when radio running on batteries was a novelty and certainly our neighborhood did not possess one.

My father has gone back to those days.

We lived in a colony, yes you read it write, we called it ‘colony’ and not a ‘complex’ a term, which is in vogue nowadays.

It is only after settling in Kolkata I realized ‘colony’ has a different connotation too. My father being a central government employee and our neighborhood also of the same creed, it was really a pot pourrie of cultural and religious diversity.

The best part of all that was, there was no one to remind us of all that. Mass participation in various religious festivals was natural and lack of it what made news. ’Eid mela’ was as eagerly awaited as post puja ‘Vijaya Dashami’ sweets.

Our Puja planning started with the start of new academic season in April. By the time summer holidays started we were eagerly awaiting a new pair of bata shoes (only one available). Existing ones were battered through the last season, not fit enough to survive more than few months of street football on the way back from school.

Durga Puja idol always used to be the same look and size for a simple reason ‘Dhiman’ uncle did not have confidence of pulling through anything different. Working as a factory supervisor in ordnance factory right through the year, to make ends meet, did not give him the means to experiment.

Today situation is bit different. I am struggling to find a radio, its wiped out with advent of mobiles. I am also not sure if AIR nowadays play the ‘mahalaya’ anymore. Cassette, CDs, TV programmes on the subject has overwhelmed us.

My daughter is already bored with deluge of dresses she has received. Yet to be teen, she finds it a waste of money(?) Mahalaya does not even get a passing mention in her routine. Ronaldo or a Shakira are her search items in ‘google’.

Most of the Delhi pujas are cancelled this year as government has refused security clearance. They site the reason of common wealth games making the city a high alert zone.

Kolkata pujas are dreaded by most ‘Probashis’. The crowd, the light, the show of wealth and the festival is lost somewhere. We are busy planning a cramped down schedule of “Big Boss” where we will be confined to our home for four days.

Does that mean all fun is lost? No, I am as eagerly waiting for the pujas as I did three decades ago. This week I have dug out few old “Sharadia Shonkha”(Festival edition) a “Ghona da” series, blackberry and laptop can go take a break for four days, next week.

PS.: Apologies to all those for whom I could not really replicate the sentiments and used an abundance of Bengali words. I hope they will use their imagination to fill in the gaping holes in my inadequate literary attempt.
This blog was written few years ago and only now I got the inclination to put it into a blog site

Imran Khan

noreply@blogger.com (Probal Chatterjee) — Mon, 28 Oct 2013 14:01:00 +0000

Dad ! Do you know Imran Khan?

Oh, yes I do, but he does not know me.

Same here I too know him, but he does not know me. My daughter replied, she has carried my genes for being witty.

Thankfully I don’t have to tell her a joke and explain it too. Two of us chug along nicely.

So what’s this Imran Khan business?

He is so good looking. My friend, showed me his pictures, he is just a lady killer.

I realized, my daughter is growing up fast and I am ageing equally rapidly.

Oh yes, I always envied that guy.

Why dad, he is not even your age? There she goes, when daughters start reminding you of age, it is time to retire.

See that’s the problem. He is not even my age but garners more than fair share of attention from girls (not ladies) of my age.

I have become a fan of his.

I am a fan of his, long before you even knew his name.

Wow. I never knew you were into movies? Which one of his movies you saw?

What movies are you talking about? I never knew that he made movies? I know his ex-wife is going around with some actor, but Imran in movies? I never heard of that.

Oh c’mon dad. What else he can do, he comes with film background, and he acts in movies. I thought he is still married did not know he was separated. Are you sure you are talking about Imran?

Oh yes I am dead sure, are you?

How can I forget the ’82 India Pakistan cricket test series? Imran takes 42 wickets, Amarnath becomes best no.3 in the world.
Do you think I have grown so old, to forget it?

Dad Imran was probably not even born in 1982. He is nephew of Amir Khan, he acts in movies.

That settles it. We cannot go on any further. 1982 just seems the other day to me, but in her radar its closer to Sepoy Mutiny.

I am growing old and she is growing up.

King and his lessons

noreply@blogger.com (Probal Chatterjee) — Sun, 27 Oct 2013 08:17:00 +0000

I have a daughter (15+) and son (8+). My son, like most kids of his age likes to hear a story. Surprisingly he likes to hear stories on Hindu mythology and stories with Indian background. I on the other side have very little knowledge on these so at times I have to make up stories.

Problem arises when my daughter also sits through. Like most teenagers she likes to pick holes in anything that her parents do or suggest. She picks holes in my stories, so I have devised a strategy - I pick up real historical characters, locations, some events that I remember and then I let go my imagination. So here is one such piece of my imagination.

Many years ago there lived a king named Akbar. He had to fight many battles in life right from his childhood days. One of them was ‘Battle of Panipat’ against King Hemu.

In these wars Akbar was led and guided by a veteran army chief Bairam Khan. Bairam actually worked with Humayun i.e. father of Akbar and when Humayun died he picked up the mantle of being guiding light for Akbar’s fighting and administrative skills.

Akbar was a teenager when he went for the war and like most teenagers and also some learned people Akbar had complete disregard for people of wisdom who have grown through the ranks and learnt from life. His outlook changed completely with growing years but as a teenager he was brash.

One fine morning Akbar and Bairam were out for an inspection of the preparation for the upcoming war. During the walk Akbar noticed to his utter surprise, quite a few potbellied men along with some women too are stocking up things, clearly getting ready to go to war. They were not at all army people as one would envisage but they seem to be at home with the entourage.

Akbar saw that Bairam walked up to one such group cracked few jokes, cajoled them to speed up. They too passed some remarks and did not look too bothered by the rank held by Bairam. Akbar was intrigued but chose to keep quiet and decided to enquire further secretly.

Akbar was fond of archers, especially archers from Assam. He called for one of them, up came the six pack guy, chiseled body, lean mean fighting machine, swift, nimble, fast mover, keen to go into a battle and demonstrate his skill. He was a professional warrior, keen to showcase his talent, please his supervisor and earn a bonus. It does not matter who he was fighting as long as he can ensure a fat pay check. Through him Akbar got the view that preparation of war is getting delayed due to those fat bellies, weak knee guys. They never seem to move fast, do not possess any fighting skill and are a drag on entire army. Their delay is giving critical time to Hemu to prepare.

Akbar quietly altered the plan and asked his fighters to charge ahead next dawn, leaving behind the slow movers. He wanted to surprise Hemu with a swift attack and finish the war. He was confident that Hemu would be taken by surprise. Bairam was not part of this decision, he was not to be consulted, Bairam is well past his sell by date and his planning ideas are all stale, used by everyone, innovations are flavor of the season.

Bairam though came to know of the designs but decided to keep quiet; he wanted Akbar to learn from experience.

Akbar’s troop rode up quick and fast on their horses and reached up to place where supposed battle was to take place. In their rush to reach the goal they did not notice that all the villages on the way were empty, fields were empty too, those who still remained were also looking to move out. Army did not notice any of this; in their mind they have already won the war, empty roads and villages only made their journey faster. Next morning the war will start.

Army planned to retire for the night. They were tired and hungry they also had to strategize for next morning. There was minor hiccup though, they could not locate their camp, archers, cavalries, horses and horse riders all were tired they needed hot food and place to lie down but none of it was available. All they could see was a gigantic fort in the front and deserted villages behind at considerable distance.

Soon the matter reached up to Akbar and he decided to reach out to Bairam Khan. When asked, Bairam said, “But you ordered to leave those people behind, those who were entrusted with the job of putting up the camps, preparing food etc. while the fighters plan out their strategy of attack”. Akbar responded, “They are not army, they were slowing up things, we cannot win wars with such slow, average people. To win wars we need niche skilled, high performers”.

Bairam then explained a learning which stayed with Akbar through his life.

Bairam said, “It is true high performers, niche skilled people help you to attack and gain ground. However you choose to ignore the cooks, errand boys, average foot solider and support staff at your own peril. They are as much your army as the cavaliers are. They are the ones who help you retain the ground gained. They pick up the mundane jobs so that high achievers can demonstrate their skills. They are not the glamorous ones, but they do the job given to them, diligently and often remain unnoticed. They are as important to your plans, as your archers are.

We often tend to focus only on 5% of our team of high performers and may be another 20% gets noticed occasionally. Remember many of these 5% team are professional soldiers, they fight for a living and they fight for anyone who cares to pay them higher. It is the average, who compensates their average skill with high loyalty. Great leaders have the ability to put attention to rest 75% and get the loyalty to work for his advantage. Every army has those 5% and 20% of high fliers and they help win battles, it is the 75% which makes the difference in winning a war”.

Akbar realized his folly and asked his army to retreat in quiet of night, promising to come back later. He realized that without rest and food his army is already defeated and not ready for the battle. He needs to go back and get those potbellied guys into the fold, if he wishes to win the battle of Panipat.

History tells us that Akbar won the battle of Panipat resoundingly.

Blog about Blogging

noreply@blogger.com (Probal Chatterjee) — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 07:33:00 +0000

“Dad, what are you doing?”
“I am blogging”.
“What’s that?”
I explain it to her and after a few minutes of such question answer session, I hide back behind that eternal answer, “You will know when you grow up”.

That closed the conversation, it always does, it always did. It is a signal, which a child learns to pick up over time. It is a part of their growing up learning.

My final answer was, in response to the question which was on the lines, what prompts me to blog?
She went away and after a few hours she must have forgotten that she had put her father in a spot over blogging.

Generations before me, were writing paper diary, or the hardcopy as we IT guys call it. My parents never had a habit of diary. They were too busy to make two ends meet. However my grand parents from mother’s side had the habit. From them I learnt that diaries are very private property and certainly not for public consumption.
“Grandma, what are you doing?”
“I am writing diary.”
“Can I read it?”
“No, you should not read someone else’ diary.”
“Why are you writing it? Has your teacher asked you to write it?”
“No. No one has asked me to write.”
“Then why do you write at all, if you do not want someone else to read it?”
“I do because it gives me pleasure.”

Wah ! What a bucket load of shit. Why anyone would want to write something when they do not want anyone else to read it, no one has asked for it and most importantly no one you know cares about it? I never liked writing essays, even when my English teacher chased me.

Obviously I was not at a liberty to voice my opinion in such language. I mumbled something and the response was,

“You will know when you grow up”.

I am forty years old, but I do not know, if I am grown up or not.
Only yesterday my yet to be five year old kid asked me to grow up. I was trying to bully him about his favorite toy bike, with an un-expected holiday at hand with Congress calling the Bangla Bandh.

It’s an amazing feeling to have your diary online, for public scrutiny. I do not know about others, but I am writing because I am beginning to enjoy it. I do not care if others care about it or not.

It allows me to express views freely, which otherwise when expressed in a gathering would have met with some eerie silence, suppressed laugh or complete indifference. It allows me to complete my side of story, without being interrupted. It is completely my world, right to entry is restricted.

Even though all that is true, one change I noticed that being online, you actually half expect that someone else will read your stuff.
You will not stop or moderate your way of writing, because others think differently. However if they give you some comment, you get a heady feeling, even when you realize that it is only indulgence.

Does this mean our generations think differently than the hardcopy generation? We love to share our innermost thoughts, generation before didn’t?

I believe that generation too wanted their write-ups to be read, or else why would my grandmother leave her diaries in places where she knew I had access to?

Not good enough

noreply@blogger.com (Probal Chatterjee) — Sat, 11 Jul 2009 17:59:00 +0000

Nowadays I am hooked to Photography. I got in late as like many others I have finally realized that I am no good in front of the camera, hence the decision to go behind it.

I am also listening to Classical Music. You may say what’s the big deal? You see it is a big deal for me. I am doing something, where I know I am not good enough. Listening classical also needs knowledge of music. It took me time to get over the phobia. Lasting memory of my life is to hear that I am not good enough. I was not good enough in studies, not good for music, not skilled enough for sports, not serious enough to be a writer, not a good son, neither a good husband nor a father. In short I am aware I am not good enough. But like many others, I wanted to come first in my class, play sitar in front of an audience, cherished the dream of representing country in sports, write poetries and novels.

I was going through the daily grind, waiting for that perfect moment, when everything else will take a backseat and I will be free to chase wild goose, my dreams.

Last year I purchased a DSLR as a gift for my wife. As luck would have it, I was not good enough to choose that perfect gift. She found it too cumbersome and settled for our old aim and shoot camera. I ended up as proud owner of a DSLR with absolutely no knack for photography. I started with tics and tacs with prime idea of convincing myself that the camera was indeed cumbersome and should be discarded.

Days moved into weeks and weeks into months, I am still debating, waiting to click few more shots before settling the argument. I look back at the snaps taken over this period, I know no one is bothered, but I notice the differences in my clicks. It was encouraging me to chase that dream of being good enough. Even if no one knows, I know that I am better than what I was six months ago. It is good enough progress for me.

I was inclined to include some snaps of clicked, but decided against it. Let them remain as my sweet nothings with me for some more time…

Perfumes & Backaches

noreply@blogger.com (Probal Chatterjee) — Tue, 02 Jun 2009 16:53:00 +0000

“I hate people, when they use perfume, especially men!”.
The remark came from my niece who is all of fifteen years. It was summer and my sister with her family came down from New Delhi to spend few days with us in Kolkata. Now Kolkata does not exactly excite you as a summer holiday proposition, but family ties can change many perceptions.
If you are troubled by heat and sweat and struggling to keep your body and soul attached, what best place to pass your time, but a shopping mall. Shopping mall world over is best place to do window shopping, some popcorn munching and good time pass in air conditioned environment. I am yet to meet someone who actually goes into a shopping mall to shop. Agreed, I am yet to meet Britney Spears, too.
Coming back to the point I asked my niece, “Why do you hate perfumes? They smell so good”. “It is not the perfume I hate per se’, it is the idea of using a perfume”. “Why what’s wrong with the idea of using perfume?” I was still puzzled. ”Guess, why do people use, perfume? They use it to hide bad odour, in other words, they stink”, pat came the reply.
It took time to sink in, but I was not going to give in easily. “Do you think, it is a good idea to get into a meeting when your armpits are dripping and odor is bad enough to awaken a dead man? Little perfume can help your cause so much”.
I was unwilling to elaborate much on what help a middle aged man wants from a perfume or a deodorant; she has definitely seen those “Axe effect” ads.
“Imagine a Royal Bengal Tiger, coming out of Sundarban with Calvin Klein smell”, she was laughing. I tried hard but couldn’t, men are anyway less on imagination, whatever they have they tend to loose it as fast as their hair, especially if one has two kids and a wife to boot.

At this point of time she was Lady Yuvraj Singh, South City Mall was looking like Durban and I was Stuart Broad getting slaughtered for sixes.
But that was 2007, this is 2009 and equations must have changed, I was hopeful of a turnaround. Asking rate was pretty high, young blood was winning it hands down, but I was determined to take it to the last over and then it could be anybodies game. ”Eh! Going by your logic, you will soon ask people to walk on all fours”? “Try it. It will help your backaches and you don’t have to hire people to do some cumbersome body twisting stuff called Yoga”. For a fleeting second I thought I had her on the mat, after all she is advising against Yoga, but before I could collate my thoughts and go on a counter attack she said, “On all fours, you can walk faster, run faster, you don’t need cars, world can be so green and you save money too”.
“And by the way today I saved you some money so spend some, on getting us ice-creams”. Wise men know when they are beaten; they accept it and move on. I decided to do just that, not questioning where and how the money was saved, I was sure she will have the answer ready.

Sundarban & Nano

noreply@blogger.com (Probal Chatterjee) — Wed, 27 May 2009 12:01:00 +0000

Last weekend was one of my best investments to rejuvenate life. I went on a short trip to Sundarban.

For those who have not heard about Sundarban, it is world’s largest mangrove forest home to Royal Bengal Tiger situated on the eastern part of India bordering Bangladesh. While writing I became conscious about the fact “world’s largest…”, are we(the Indians) too focused on largest, biggest, fastest etc etc . In a zeal to quantify all good or bad things, we loose focus on quality. Which is why Niagra Falls is in our must see checklist, when visiting US, but a waterfall in Nilgiris is given a skip. However let me stick to Sundarban for today.

Last Saturday my family and my sisters back packed and left for Sundarban. Entire arrangement was outsourced, all we needed was to board a local train and reach a port named “Canning”. It is an hour’s journey from the place I live in Kolkata. From Canning we were to board a steamer, which would take us through numerous rivers and canals. The trip was for two days, with a night halt in a small resting junction.

People visit Sundarban with an expectation of catching a glimpse of Royal Bengal Tiger in the open expanse. However I had no such notion, I had my reasons too. Firstly with temperatures hovering around 41 degree celcius, tigers are unlikely to have the excitement of watching a homo sapiens, who are unpleasant animals anyway. Secondly Sundarban in India is about 2700+ sq. km. and last census counted only 270+ tigers in the zone. The probability of getting to see one was equal to winning the lotto.

My idea was to laze around soaking in the tranquility of nature. On that front Sundarban was grand success. Sundarban also gave me something, which I was not ready for, a new view point.

Sundarban made me realize why West Bengal state governments project “Nano” was a failure. Why Mamata was right, even though her ways were wrong. Before last weekend, failure of “Nano” was a mystery to me. Like many others I thought that our state is doomed to remain backwards. Why on earth a few people should stop what was so obviously a forward looking step in employment generation and general well being of the area?

Looking back at my trip, my views have changed. Canning is less than an hour’s journey in the local train, our household maid belongs to Canning, and she travels everyday to Jadavpur(where I live) a bustling part of Kolkata, much sought after real-estate location. As per the train ticket Jadavpur is merely 38 kms from Canning. Canning does not have full electricity coverage and drinking water is a privilege!

Canning onwards primary mode of power is diesel run generators. I am not finicky about getting mineral water, but even a reasonable level of clean water is scarce and you have to plan to procure it beforehand.
The night halt was named “Apanjan” or “Your own ones” was a very nice place, but there, you are paying for every drop of drinking water, since they have to get it from a place 7 kms away!
Electricity is available only between 6pm to 10 pm because the power is supplied through diesel generator!

When you consider this against the backdrop of “Nano”, question does arise, did our government have their priorities right?
If the idea was to generate employment, can we not copy Chinese model of utilizing small village communities to setup small hydro-electric power generators. Chinese model runs on theory of co-operative society and any excess power is provided to national grid. We are matching China in population but our hydro-electric power generation is only 20% of China’s.

Small village based community takes care of employment generation and co-operative nature about sustainability. If the argument is that a hydro-electric plant needs skilled force, well if we hope to train and deploy an nth generation farmer to make automotives, we can train them to generate electricity as well. What more small hydro-electric plants do not need costly investments, can be setup quickly.

Once few such plants come up, they will need maintenance, spare parts etc. etc. voila before you realize lot of indirect employment is generated.

Most importantly I feel that with innovative modeling of part-time labor concept, village youth may eye this as opportunity to garner extra income. Much like the concept of IT training institute which is filled with many aspirants, who are not actually eyeing the next software engineering job, instead they wish to utilize IT to supplement their income.

If the argument is that people of the region are too poor to afford electricity, one has to look at the number of mobile towers and their reach in the region. If mobile makes a business sense, can electricity be different?

What’s in it for the government and the politicians? Well despite the lack of electricity, power consumption in the region has gone up considerably I am told. Each household aspires for electricity and acquiring one generator is order of the day, much like the way our parents aspired for a television set in early 80s. The amount of diesel consumed in the area is mind boggling, all that is going up in smoke, adding to pollution and disturbing the wildlife, the lifeline of people around the area.

To me the idea seemed a no brainer, can you please help me understand, why people in the government fail to see it?

If you still have doubts, consider this - “Apanjan”, where we spent the night utilizes 10 litres of diesel for 4 hours of power. If Government is providing subsidy of Rs. 10/- per litre, it works out to be approximately Rs. 36,500 /- a year on subsidy, and I mentioned only one spot in a tiny village in an area spawning 2700+ sq. kms.!!

Rama of Ramayana

noreply@blogger.com (Probal Chatterjee) — Thu, 21 May 2009 10:34:00 +0000

This is my first blog and where else to start but from Hindu mythology and epics, which fascinates me to the extreme.

I am no expert, neither am I well read but just as Congress puts it, I am an ‘Aam-admi’ and I have my views, what better way than to express them on my blog.

So I am starting off my blog journey through pondering on Rama idolized by millions as the perfect one.

I read an abridged version of Ramayana when I was about 10 years, but prior to that and also subsequently I kept on hearing about virtues of Rama the character.

It is around the time when I was in standard IX; my Hindi teacher popped a question to me in class, “What do you think of Rama”? I could not answer, but thinking I did, I kept on thinking till date.

On one hand I had this popular notion ingrained into me about Rama being the supreme one at the same time I was finding it difficult to justify few events in Rama’s life and the behavior he demonstrated.

So here I am posing a question to you, is Rama a character portrayed in Ramayana is a character to emulate? Did he possess the quality of supreme human being? What makes us aspire (those who aspire) to be like him or more importantly our siblings to be like him?
In this article I am putting forward the thoughts which disturbed me and stopped me short of calling Rama the perfect one. I invite you to give your view points.

At the outset I take the liberty of breaking from the majority notion that Rama is God, avatar of Vishnu, hence unquestionable. I assume that he is a character portrayed in an epic. Even if for a minor argument, I assume that Rama is God (whatever that typical notion means), then why he is the chosen one? Why not Laxmana, why not Shiva, why not Krishna, why not others? But that is the debate for some other day.

In Ramayana, Rama, first came to limelight with his fight with Taraka, the demon, who was spoiling the rituals conducted by Vishwamitra and his colleagues. Rama goes there, asks no question, kills Taraka, everyone is happy. As a child I was quite excited by the description of how monstrous Taraka was and how bravely Rama fought and won. But the question is why killing of Taraka was needed? Today Salman Khan is hunted down for 10 years to kill a black buck. We make such a hue and cry if a Royal Bengal Tiger is killed by some poacher. What is the difference? If we consider Taraka to be a wild beast, it still had her right to life. Taraka did not come to human locality to disturb peace. On the contrary Vishwamitra went into jungle and was conducting yagna, which everyone knows, creates pollution, through smoke. Was Taraka unjustified in trying to salvage her life, just like anyone else? Most snakes attack, when they are scared. Why don’t we assume that even Taraka was scared, scared of fire, smoke or simply human beings?
As a future king, was it not appropriate for Rama to look for a peaceful solution, similar to what he argues for while invading Lanka? Should he not have requested Vishwamitra to conduct yagna at a more appropriate place? Or was he scared of Vishwamitra, therefore went ahead and did whatever he was asked for?

In Sita Swayamvar, why Rama did not offer Laxmana to go for the bow, first? In normal life do we not let our youngsters attempt first, a show of skill or strength? Why Rama was different?
Rama is shown as ultimate in terms of worshipping parents, but when Vishwamitra asks him to appear in Sita Swayamvar, he obliges. Not for once he thought about taking permission of his parents.

Till return from Mithila, all he has shown is his strength and skill to fight. You may say that he was just a kid. Well if he is old enough to kill or marry, he is old enough to think, isn’t it?

His next big time comes, when he is leaving for jungle to honour his father’s promises. This is melodramatic, he was aware that Dasharath is likely to die of grief, if he leaves. There will be no king to lead the country, given that confirmation from Bharat about leading, did not reach him. In hindu mythology, a king, is suggested as descendant of God and has complete responsibility for the well being of his kingdom animate and in-animate, over and above his personal well being and prejudices. Here was the guy, who was leaving entire country in doldrums, going ahead with fulfilling his father’s nightmare. Why? Who stopped him from suggesting Kaikeyi that he will leave as per the wish, but before that he needs to ensure that Bharat is established as king and kingdom is stable and in able hands. He could have given a fixed timeframe to honour his father’s commitment. Argument, that Bharat would not have accepted it, does not cut the ice, because if the motto is elder’s wish is my command, then Bharat too would have fallen in line, which he did anyway after some time.
In fact all through Ramayana it is Laxman, Bharat or Hanuman are the ones who see the reason and act accordingly. No one could stop Laxman from accompanying Rama. Laxman was not only acting out of love for his elder brother, he was also ensuring that future king does not go un-guarded. He did not need anyone’s permission to act the way he did. He did, because that was the right thing to do. No rituals, no promises, no elders could stop him doing what was right. Sadly it is always Rama who was going by the rule book and not by the spirit of rules.
Rama is always upheld as a man of virtue, man of impeccable credentials. However his treatment of Surpanakha was what even mere mortals will be ashamed of. Irrespective of the behaviour of Surpanakha, Rama had no business making a mockery of her.
Contrary to popular belief Rama was not averse to immoral ways too. Killing of Bali goes on to prove that.
It is debatable if in a fair fight whether Rama was capable of defeating Ravana. Unless Vibhishana shared the secret of Ravana’s ways of death, probably Rama would have had to sweat, a lot more than he actually did.
After all this the guy had the audacity to ask Sita to go for “Agni Pariskha”, not for his own sake, but just to quell the curiosity and questions that would arise back home. I mean was he a man at all?

Overall I would trade off Laxman as the “Man”, a character who is the unsung hero of the entire epic. He goes off to fight Meghnad fully aware that he is no match to him. He is fighting a battle to save his brother’s wife, not withstanding that he himself has a wife too and who is waiting for him back home. A selfless character, who gave up his entire life trying to protect Rama from all adversities.

What do you think?