nadirafromkannur's blog

        Have always been curious about Bihar. Think about all those history lessons one learnt by rote. All those confusing dates that refused to register and the names of various kings in the  long lineage of dynasties. But even amongst all those pages of wars and exploits and secessions , the annals  of  King Ashoka  who gave up fighting and spent the rest of his days working for the welfare of his subjects, never failed to intrigue. He is still so much a part of every Indian’s everyday life , isn’t he, our currency and the national flag and the National emblem all bearing symbols of what he had left behind.

      After the Kalinga war and King Ashoka’s adoption of Buddhism, his kingdom is said to have had fifty years of  prosperity and peace . The soil of Magadh is where Mahavir and Buddha walked , where dharma was supposed to have flourished , where Nalanda, one of the world’s oldest universities, attracted those bitten by the bug of learning from all over the world, including Huein Tsang.

    And then we have the Bihar of the present times.  How could a region turn so topsy turvy? What had happened in between ?

     My recent trip to Bihar was courtesy some close friends , whose young nephew Anuj,  was to be married. I knew the boy too and it didn’t take long for them to persuade me to attend the wedding in Gaya. Theirs is a large joint family and it was quite a fascinating experience in itself to be going up and down the stairs of their residence , from one floor to another , from one suite of rooms to another where each separate branch  of the huge family tree spread out. The inhabitants there were from different generations and it was confusing when somebody called another quite obviously only old enough to be of his father’s generation “Dadaji” (grandfather) . Joint families of course can have a lot of undercurrents going on , but it is  a wondrous thing that they still exist even rarely in these quite individualistic times. I feel the advantages would  more evidently present themselves if only the older generation were a little more accepting of the changing mores .

       The building was one of the many rows of houses , standing shoulder to shoulder on one side of the street. Gaya is not one of the cleanest towns by any standards , but it was quite alive. People and rikshaws and cars jostled each other on the roads , unnervingly sometimes. There was hustle and bustle from dawn till dusk , in the neighbourhood.

     I didn’t see too many buses on the roads though. For the wedding , we travelled from Gaya to a place called Giridih,   which is situated in Jharkhand just across the Southern border of Bihar , in the direction of and close to Shikharji, which  is an important place of piligrimage for  the Jains . The marriage was to take place in a community complex there,  as it was convenient, logistics-wise for both the families of the bride and the groom.

       On the way, all one saw were  stretches and stretches of barren land on both sides for most of the distance of about 175 kms. It was punctuated by small clusters of  houses and shops here and there  and a few townships. The exciting bit of the journey for me was to pass by Jumrathalaiya, in Koderma district. I was immediately transported to those days when Vividh Bharati was our prime source of entertainment . Jumrathalaiya  is a word akin to Timbuctoo. It gives you the feeling that they didn’t actually exist . But all those song requests that used to flood the Vividh Bharati  programmes of hindi film songs  was a sure sign that it did. Mr. Jain , my host told me that the place around that area used to be rich in mining activities and it had been a flourishing town till perhaps the 1990s and the place had a considerable num,ber of phone connections , even in those times.

      The marriage of course was a vibrant , heady mix . Colourful sarees and jewelry, music and dance  , tasty food . It was fun but exhausting as well , true to form of any Indian wedding , I guess.

       Our visit to Nalanda, the next day was a solemn affair in contrast. The remains of the monasteries, with its small cells , where the students of those times must have laboured over their texts , the small beds built of mud and stone, the sloping section in the walls of some of the rooms which let in the light , the platforms where discourses may have been delivered , the remains of temples, all  gave an eerie feeling . The Nalanda University is supposed to be the oldest residential university in recorded history, that housed thousands of precious books, all of which is said to have been burnt , some say by Allaudin Khilji , a Turkish invader , while others hold that the fire was the result of confrontation between the brahmanical order and the Buddhists. Xuan Xang(when we learnt about him in our history texts, he was Huein Tsang) had travelled across mountains and deserts to reach Nalanda , where he had stayed and studied for many years. There is a new monastery that has come up recently near Nalanda, which has been built in tribute to the great scholar, which is a must visit if one is travelling to this region.

       And then of course , the visit to Bodh Gaya. Funny isn’t it that as Indians , all of us take so much pride and talk incessantly about “our culture and heritage” and yet apparently it was a British archeologist who unearthed the remains of both Nalanda as well as the Bodhi Temple at Bodh Gaya. There was a huge crowd that evening at Bodh Gaya, as is the case everyday. Lots of Buddhist monks, lots of tourists from Srilanka and lots of local people as well. The place was buzzing with activity of both the worldy type which involved buying and selling as well the religious type of meditating and chanting . It was quite touching to see a large group of Buddhist monks praying for the earthquake victims of Japan , near the Bodhi tree. I’ve posted  the pictures on my Facebook  profile . Take a look.

http://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/nadira.cotticollan

      What was really nice about the whole trip was the optimism that was clearly evident everywhere . From Moti, the driver to those doing business in the Jain household where I was staying, and others one met elsewhere , all waxed eloquent about “hamara Nitishji”. He really seemed to be making a difference. He has sent a strong message, it seems across all the Government departments that the systems must be functioning and functioning well. People are feeling more secure . More investments are flowing in and property prices are going up. The newspapers apparently carry details of which doctors are on duty in the Government hospitals, lots of labourers who had left the state in search of employment elsewhere have returned , there are more children in the schools and more teachers to teach them. The roads are being improved , there is more of police patrolling and so on. One really wishes that other Chief Ministers would learn a lesson or two from  Nitishji.

      The travel bug had invaded my blood a long time ago and I am glad that now I can   succumb whenever  its attack gives me the itch to pack my bags and board a train or bus. I personally feel it’s the best way to expand one’s minds and hearts. Besides, it makes coming back to one’s own personal space and the warm circle of dear ones and friends all the more appealing after staying away for a while. My advice folks, put on your traveling boots once in a while. It is really worth it.

Lots of things, good and bad have been said and are being said about Facebook, but to me it has been a real find ,spinning threads of communication and creating quite a web where I lie happily enmeshed and warm in the rays of friendships, old and new. On this trip to my hometown in Kannur , besides having been able to escape from the coldwave that has gripped Delhi, I have been able to catch up with some of my childhood friends and neighbours after many , many years. The broken contacts wouldn’t have been restored perhaps, had we not come across each other through Facebook. It’s not that we had become totally unaware of each others’ existences. It’s just that we were being updated, on our respective trips back to our roots , vicariously through our relatives who stay here.

My tentative plans to come here for a few weeks became quite concrete when I came to know that there was going to be a wedding in the family of one of those old friends, when all of the siblings , dispersed in different places across the continents , would come together. Here was a chance to meet them all . A school reunion had already been on the cards and this was an additional propeller..”sone pe suhaga” as they say in the North or “the icing on the cake” , if one has to make use of the phrases one had to memorise for the english language exam, back in school.

Ours was a shared childhood, when almost all of our time, except those spent in the classrooms or in sleep, were spent together. Whoever got ready first in the mornings , stepped across the road to the others’ house to wait for them till they had had their breakfast and had donned their school uniforms. I remember Juanabai cajoling and scolding Elsie and Stephen , the older children who went to school with me and my younger brother to have their glass of milk made from the Nido milkpowder, which was one of the things their father who was in Bahrain invariably brought back when he came home. The Pereira family had five children. We were five siblings too. Excluding my elder brother, each of us had someone in the other family, who was close to our age. So it made for a great team. Our funfilled days would be kickstarted even as we waited at the bus stop for the No.4 or No. 10 bus to come rolling along. We’d get down at the stop near the telephone exchange, some distance away, and then walk across the maidan to reach the school.

The Arabian sea stretched along the left of that maidan and this accounted for some of the most gleeful moments of those days during the rainy season. For then, the strong gusts of wind , blowing in from the sea would turn our umbrellas inside out or even snatch them away from our hands , making us race after them . We’d slip and fall and get completely drenched , but who cared? There was also this trench somewhere in the middle of the stretch that we had to negotiate. There was a small bridge , which consisted of two cement slabs placed across the ditch, but that was a little away from the direct path that we would follow. So we preferred to place one cautious step after another into the water that had filled up the ditch and climb up on the other side. We would always have a pair of our dry clothes in the school, as the rains during the monsoon months were incessant and getting our uniforms wet was the norm. So it didn’t really matter if we had to wade through. The problem was when our rubber hawai chappals (there was no question of wearing our shoes on rainy days) would get stuck in the slippery , sticky mud at the bottom . In the process of retrieving them , we would often fall into the water and our bags and books would get wet as well.

Sometimes, the buses would be off the roads for days on end ,when the repairing or tarring was going on . The concessional busfare of five paise , each way , then became a huge bonus to spend on our way back home. We would stop at the corner, half way to our homes from school, where there was this vendor who sold crushed ice in scoops, coloured and flavoured with some fruity syrup or we would buy slices of raw mango with a thin spread of tamarind pulp, red chilly powder and salt or salted gooseberries. (I still have all of these even now whenever the opportunity comes but the greed factor that was part of the process of buying and eating them is no more there and hence it isn’t as deliciously tasty as it used to be. Besides, the enamel coating on the teeth has naturally reduced in thickness). I’m quite aware how Neanderthal all this must be sounding to our children and grandchildren whose tastebuds are more attuned to the KFC chicken and dominoes Pizza and the Baskin and Robbins icecreams. But hey , our share of delight was not any less, though it came much cheaper.

We sat reminiscing about those times in Stephen’s house , the morning after the wedding, which took place in a church in Mangalore. My girls can’t even relate to the jokes I find funny, Stephen said regretfully and I could quite relate to what he said. He recalled how his younger sister Lesline ( whom we call Latha) had this habit of dozing off in the bus and how on many occasions , the rest of us would get down from the bus and realize she wasn’t with us only when we reached home. But there was nothing really to worry about because the bus would stop at their gate on its return trip , to drop off the sleepyhead.

They are Manglorean Christians, the Pereiras and their mother tongue is Konkani. Spending so much of time with them and the other Konkani neighbours, one had picked up quite a few of the words and could follow the conversations quite well in those days. Not now; the long interval in between has deleted it all from my memory. But not the taste of the “sannas” , which is something like “idlis” , except that the steamed softness of the sannas was sweeter. I got to eat them again at the wedding feast.

My friend Madhu who had accompanied me on this trip from Delhi , was also with me. We had taken an afternoon train to Mangalore and had reached the church just as the ceremony had started. We sat at the back in that beautiful church. We could see the bride and the groom way up in front, she dressed in a virginal white gown , the trailing bridal veil held in place on her head with a small delicate crown, the groom in a black suit, the best man and the bridesmaid standing beside them and the sweet little flower girls in their pink dresses and small baskets of flowers in their hands. I must confess that of all the bridal wear, I find the traditional Christian bridal attire the loveliest. So too the marriage vows. There is something beautifully romantic about the couple pledging to be together in sickness and in health and in ups and downs till “death do us part”

The ceremony was interspersed with hymns rendered by a very harmonious group of voices of the choir . Those present could sing along if they knew the songs , to facilitate which they had distributed small booklets with the lyrics . Each religion has a defining aspect in my perception. For some it is judgement and reckoning , for others it is the freedom to follow your own individual path or worship divinity in any from that is of your liking. In chrisitianity , the word love gets a predominant place in the scheme of things. Jesus therefore is my personal favourite among the prophets and saints and sages.

The religious ceremony having been concluded , all of us had moved to the adjoining hall, where the rest of the cultural traditions of a Manglorean Christian wedding followed. The bride and groom’s families were formally introduced to each other, then the newly wedded couple moved around the hall, followed by a long train of other married couples. Dancing followed, the movements of youngsters in tune to the rhythm provided by a lively band, the older ones just swaying their ample hips or potbellies any which way and according to their own internal music. Then there was exchange of gifts and the ceremony where the girl’s parents handed over the bride to the boy’s family , urging them to take care of her just as they had nurtured and cared for her. This was the part where everybody would start getting misty eyed, Elsie the eldest in the family and who is closest to me agewise, later told me. ”Babul ki duaye leke jaa…” kinds.

For Madhu too, the past days have been overwhelming. She belongs to Lucknow but had spent her childhood and growing up years in Kannur, her father having been posted here for all of that time. So she has been going around visiting her friends and the places where she stayed. . She is in quite a daze, she says. We were in Ernakulam too, catching up with friends and cruising in the backwaters of Alleppey which is about one and half hours away from Ernakulam, by road. Also spent a day and a half in Wynad. Lovely times . Footloose and fancy free, as they sayJ

Saw a film named ‘Traffic” while in Kerala recently.The main thread of the story is based on a real life incident of a little over two years go in Chennai. Dr. Ashokan and Dr. Pushpanjali had lost their son Hitendran in a car accident.The boy had not responded to treatment and had been declared clinically dead. The parents ,in a highly inspiring act of generosity even in hat hour of a colossal loss in their lives, had decided to donate all the living organs of heir seventeen year old son to needy patients waiting for donors. The heart, which is required to be transpalanted within half an hour , was sucessfully transported from Apollo Hospital, Teynampet to Life -line Hopsital Mugappair, in a record 19 minutes, with the co-operation and directions of the Chief Commissioner of Police. The driver of the vehicle had been highly lauded by the public. Read about this incident on his link:

http://www.aphithendranmemorialtrust.org/incident.html

In the film, woven into this story, were many other different strands, criss-crossing each others’ lives on that fateful day with a myriad shades of human emotions that rule our lives. I found the film engrossing. I did come back from the movie with my mind buzzing . I prefer that response to a film rather than the vacuosness that takes over after watching a routine masala movie with all its predictability. Here in this film was this young boy, aspiring to be a journalist on his way to the studio for his first major assignment, an interview with a celebrity actor. Almost out of the door, his mother urges him to take leave from his father. To the young lad, the father had always appeared nonchalant towards his career aspirations, as he is a well established doctor with a lot of connections , but who refuses to pull strings. The father later explains to is wife that the boy would never get the satisfaction of having made it on his own, if he had interfered. Proud father he is though and he is shown calling up his friends to tell them to watch the interview.

The boy is in love. She is just out of a relationship. They are tentative about their feelings for each other but they both know it is there and would grow. Travelling in a car, in the opposite direction on the same road on which the boy is hurrying on his bike along with his friend, is another girl who was being followed by a group of boisterous young males.In order to escape from them , she speeds forward at he traffic lights even before the lights turn green, colliding with the bike and grievously injuring the boy.

Elsewhere in the city, another young doc, so totally in love with his young beautiful wife had tied up earlier for the delivery of a new car, with which he intended to surprise his wife on her birhtday. On that particular day, he had asked his wife to wait at a specified corner and was on his way ,on the same road,in the shining new vehicle . Accompanying him is his very close friend with whom the couple had shared many lovely hours of companionship. The friend gets out of the car to see why the traffic had stalled. The friend’s mobile , which he had left behind ,keeps ringing. The doc picks it up and recognises the number as his wife’s and a slow wave of shocking realisation dawns upon him after scrolling down the messages on the mobile and his own recall of his friends’s side of his recent conversation on the mobile and other unheeded signs of probable intimacy between the two, which he had understood as familiarities of a comfortable relationship.Agony and fury overwhelms him and he speeds off when the traffic clears to reach the spot where his wife was waiting and hits her with the vehicle , intentionally and unflinchingly.

Then there is the police constable who has been under suspension for taking a small bribe. It is his day to rejoin duties. He is assigned to the traffic beat. He had fallen from grace in his home after the suspension. He had taken the bribe to help a near relative , financially, for a college admission. He is silently suffering from his teenage daughter’s disdain.

The celebrity actor is on his own trip of glitz and glamour and vainglorious self importance. His wife and daughter appear to play secondary roles in his life. We then come to learn that the daughter has been suffering from a rare heart disease and on the said day, was in the hospital, where the doctors had declared that she was as good as gone,unless there was an immediate transplant.

From there on it is all about the heart -wrenching decision of the young lad to let go of their son and the challenge taken up by the Police Commissioner to get the boy’s heart transported to the hospital where the celebrity actor’s daughter is struggling for life in the I.C.U. In a twist of fate, the doctor who was supposed to accompany in the vehicle with the donor’s heart , refused to take up the assignment and the other young cuckolded doc , who has just hit his wife (of course nobody knows about it just yet)is called upon to do so. When nobody in the Traffic wing volunteers to be the driver of the vehicle , it was the besmirched constable who raised his hand.

All ends well eventually after some twists and turns along the way. The girl gets her new heart and the celebrity father too undergoes a metaphorical change of heart. The erring wife survives and decided not to press any charges against her husband for attempted murder. The police constable is full of grace His daughter is smiling again with filial pride.

And I came back home with these thoughts…the universe is compassionate. Always it throws open before us , ways to redeem ourselves, if we but recognise those opportunities with awareness and wisdom. The universe is never happy when we are unforgiving to ourselves.

P.S: I was a little peeved with the scriptwriter who did not provide for such redemption to the girl in the car, who hit the boy. But I guess we can take that story forward, what say?

         What demons haunt the dark alleys of our mind…..this thought would often  echo like a refrain in those days when Nithari  awoke to fresh stories of the heinous details of the Pandher and Moninder duo. What really intrigued me was that one of the reports that was published in the papers  carried a small and innocuous detail that one of the things that had been recovered from the Pandher residence was the book “Many lives, many masters “, by Dr. Brian Weiss.

       Those who have read the book may recall that this book is about the reportedly real experiences of Dr. Weiss, the psychologist that  were encountered by him while treating one of his patients, who would have past life regressions during the hypnotic states. The book did leave one wondering… who knows?

       This afternoon I was watching a film by Ingmar Bergman , “Through  a glass darkly”. The name apparently is an indication of how we perceive God while we are still in this existence , clarity coming to us only on death. The story in the film unfolds over a twenty four  hour period, when the four characters, the only ones , are on a vacation on an isolated kind of island. Karin, the daughter has just come back after being treated for schizophrenia , her husband Martin, is a sensitive person  who is sincerely in love with her  and knows that she depends on him to help her to bridge the divides in her mind. Her brother Minus is terrified of his incestuous yearnings , which she, in her confused state seems to subtly encourage. The father , David, had sought escape in his writings , running away from the loneliness and coldness of his own heart, staying away from the family ,disinclined to deal with his daughter’s illness , as we come to learn that his wife had suffered similarly before she died. He tells Martin that he had even tried to kill himself by trying to drive his car into the sea over a cliff , which didn’t come to be because it developed some snag and the car was left standing with its front wheels in the air. At that point, he says , the emptiness had disappeared because he had suddenly become aware of his love for Karina and Minus , his children and also for Martin and that had given him hope.

 The film is depressing, the loneliness of the sea front and the old house, all accentuating the narrative of  the dark and sombre  goings on in their minds.

            Karina has hallucinations about waiting in a room, full of people with bright faces , for the door to open and God to walk in. In one of those spells she leaves the house and is found by her brother in the old wreck of a ship that had been lodged near the shore. What follows is not explicit ..but Karina then begs her father that she be taken to the hospital and that she was tired of flitting between one reality to another and that she had to decide between the two. The film ends with a conversation between Minus and his father after the helicopter had carried Karina and her husband away , on their way to the hospital in the town.

Minus:      I’m scared Papa. When I sat holding Karen in the old wreck, reality burst open. Do you    understand what I mean?

Father:    Yes , I understand

Minus:    Reality burst open and I tumbled out. It’s like a dream. Anything can happen Papa, anything.

Father:      I know

Minus:     I can’t live in this new world Papa

Father:    Yes you can . But you must have something to hold on to.

Minus:    What could that be, a God? Give me some proof of God. You can’t.

Father:   Yes, I can. But you have to listen carefully.

Minus:   Yes I need to listen

Father:   I can only give you a hint of my own hope. It’s knowing that love exists for real in the human world.

Minus:   A special kind of love , I suppose

Father:   All kinds of love . All kinds Minus; the highest and the lowest, the most absurd and the most sublime. All kinds of love

Minus:   The longing for love?

Father:  The longing and denial, trust and distrust.

Minus:   So love is the proof?

Father:  I don’t know if love is the proof of the existence of God or not. It’s like a reprieve , Minus,

 from a death sentence.

Minus:  If it is as you say, then Karen is surrounded by God since we love her?

Father:  Yes

Minus :  Can that help her?

Father :  I believe so

Minus:   For you, love and God are the same?

Father:  That thought helps me in my emptiness and dirty despair.
Minus:  Tell me more Papa.
Father:  Suddenly, the emptiness turns into abundance and despair into  life.

 ( In case you are wondering how I managed to remember the dialogue so accurately, here’s how..I kept pressing the pause button to write it down from the sub titles.)

           And then there is all of Carl Jung’s work  in which he points to a collective sub-conscious from where we draw our individual psyches . So  what then  is the source of the so called” evil “that manifests itself  in us . Are some of us born with those tendencies . If so why? How do we distinguish ourselves as separate from the “evil” , if indeed we are just segmented manifestations of a whole combined reality? Won’t we become more compassionate if we can but really, really get even a fleeting feeling of it?

        Whatever that may be, Love does turn emptiness into abundance and despair into life. Of that I am sure.

        Wish you all abundance and life. Happy DiwaliJ

What if we could visually be aware of all the neuronic activity in our brain cells every time a thought crossed our mind? It would probably look like how the TV screen would appear  when the cable supply suddenly pops off and it gets inundated with those infinitesmally small particles colliding incessantly with each other. I’m sure if I could see the bombardment going on in my brain just now, I’d be exhausted in a minute. Thoughts don’t tire out. We do.   So then the “I” that I am  is different from the thoughts that I think.   So what does , “ I think, therefore I am”,  actually mean?  I still have to figure that one out. I get exhausted every time I tryJ

Well, now, a lot of people are doing the rounds in my nerve circuits . For no obvious reason, the bent old man whom we called “Sami” from my childhood days is strolling arm in arm  with Arundhati Roy. May be I’ll get to know why if I pin them down to my keyboard.

I have no remembrance of why he was called by that name. Most likely, he must  have been a Palghat Brahmin who had found his way to Marakkarkandy, which is where we have our house in Kannur. My father smoked beedis and chewed paan almost continuously. But he never would keep a stock at home. So as children, whenever we were not at school, we ran endless errands to Sami’s shop to get them for him.

  If the day started early enough and Sami hadn’t yet opened shop (which meant that the planks in front of his hut had not been removed) , we would scamper to the back of his dwelling.Sometimes he would still be praying in front of a framed photograph of Lord Murugan or he would be having his morning tea session along with his cat, who was his only companion. He would pour tea into a half coconut shell for his cat and break pieces of a “murukku” and put them into it, all the while sipping at his own tea from the aluminium tumbler.

He was thin and slightly bent and wore glasses and his head was always shaved .Most of the time he only wore a dhoti and looked  much like Gandhi, although  much more slightly built. As children, our  cognizance of how old he actually was, must have been a matter of pure impression. The fact may be that he was actually in his forties. Who knows now? Sami would not be hurried , so we had to wait till he had finished his morning ritual. I didn’t mind really. I think I was fascinated which is perhaps why memories of that scene has made such a quantum leap to reach my consciousness now .

That street corner where he lived and earned his living was the most interesting place I have ever known. The evenings in particular, would come alive. There was a toddy shop and an arrack shop near by and a drunken brawl erupted almost on a daily basis. We’d hang over the compound wall and watch as they hurled the choicest abuses at each other and lunged and beat and kicked each other. Ocassionally a knife would come out. At that point , I think the crowd intervened. The “kathikuthu” (knife-stabbing) days were highlights of the nukkad drama that unfolded anew everyday. The next day after one of those incidents , the two who had been deadly intent on finishing off the other, would be seen walking past on the street, chatting together as if the previous evening had never happened.

Sami was remarkably placid and nothing of the goings on around him ruffled him . Now that I think back, I can’t recall whether I ever heard him talk. .But much of my childhood joys revolved round Sami’s shop. Apart from beedis and paan, he kept sweets and groundnut chikkis and marinated mango  pieces and avla(gooseberries) in glass jars. Also jaggery sweets wrapped up in small pieces of cellophane which we called “oyalichamuttai”. In local parlance that means something that bothers you out of your wits. “Stick –jaws” , I think similar sweetmeats are called. He also used to have a chart hung up on the wall with very small coloured squares of paper stuck on them. You got to pluck out one of them for five paise and then if you were lucky you would get some small plastic knick-knack. If you were really, really lucky , you would get a shining new one rupee coin!  How our hearts pumped when that was won.

And then Sami got himself a wife. At this point I would have to tell you about the row of houses where the prostitutes lived. (This is getting to be like Amitabh’s dialogue in Sholay when he goes to chachi on Dharmendra’s behalf, with a proposal for Hema’s hand in marriage, isn’t it?) “Eacha Lane” , it was called. Eacha, in Malayalam translates to “Housefly”. Don’t ask me why it was so named, but yes, surely, there was quite a buzz around that place.

           Sami married one of the females of Eacha Lane, so Sathyan, her son, got a brand new father. I don’t quite know whether they got along; he was already an adolescent then and had started earning for himself by rolling beedis. Work over , Satyan would sit on the verandah of the local library just next to the shop and read the newspaper loudly to himself. As far as I know Satyan had never gone to school.

           I don’t remember  now how Sami’s tale ended for I got married and came away. In the corner  where Sami’s hut stood , Achyutan Vaidyar’s ayurveda shop came up. He too has been there for many years now and temperament-wise, Vaidyar is as placid as Sami used to be.

     I have wondered often why the memories of my childhood days creates such a strong yearning in me for having the ability to travel back in time. Most of all, I think , it is because  it evokes  the sense of freedom and tolerance to every shade of human existence that characterized society of those times. May be it is the total lack of it  now in the beautiful valley of Kashmir that made Arundhati Roy speak with such anguish. I can quite relate to her outrage because the Kashmiri society has been rent asunder in this terrible tug of war between the terrorists and the state. I can relate to that because Kerala is walking down the same road and intolerance fuelled by political machinations is becoming the order of the day. The cry for “Azadi” is an agonizing call for the freedom to be  as they once were. I think she understands that. I think the rest of us charging her with sedition really don’t understand what freedom is, may be because our  thinking has always been in chains.

             “I’m too young to be old and too old to be young . I think I’m going crazy”,  that is what Evelyn(Kathy Bates) tells Ninny(Jessica Tandy) , the old lady she befriends in the nursing home  in the film “Green fried tomatoes”, which I watched last night.

         Remember that old Beatles number, “Will you still need me, will you still feed me when I’m sixty four?” Clearly one is supposed to feel vulnerable and derelict by that age and I am  only less than ten years away from it now. Honestly though, I feel ages away from feeling helplessly old .

           And I wonder,  is mental aging a conditioned thing? I have young friends  who have parents in my age group telling me that the fact that I am active on Facebook and blogging comes as a big surprise considering my age and the slightly older ones who are by now married and with kids think my “zinda dil” is commendable!

         I think our society is obsessed with role playing . We are supposed to be behaving in the manner laid down and any digression from the same comes across as a reason  for raised eyebrows , shock  or in the case of those with a more generous  outlook , as pleasant surprise. 

        I remember an incident a long time ago when I was may be twenty six or so . A group of us friends had gone on a trip with our families. It was masti time  for us young mothers and the other girl friends  who weren’t married then . The females shared a big room and the men were left to their own company. I can’t remember what led to my impulsive act of turning a summersault on the bed and the next thing I knew was that my daughter had burst into tears!:-) I think the jolt the  act gave to my  “mother image”  scandalized her baby sensibilities .

        Truth be told, I don’t think  children  get out of that even after growing up, which is perhaps why youngsters are as a general rule, embarrassed  when parents become publicly visible at Parents’ –teachers’ meetings. Boys  in particular ,  I think,  would rather choose to be found dead than have to accompany their mothers to a public place once they are in their teens.

      It’s strange ..these concepts that bind us down. I find so much pleasure in communication  and being aware of all that is going on around me. Why on earth should anyone want to fetter one’s mental agelessness ? On the other hand , we don’t mind going to extreme lengths to try and maintain our physical ly aging cells , which is an inevitability that you just have to come to terms with, do what you will.

           Kerala has an increasing number of old age homes now and I’m sure that is going to be a normal and socially acceptable thing in times to come. We may shy away from that idea but it may be the best practical thing with the family structure gradually becoming less closely knit than before and the children wanting to have their own spaces and their own direction in leading their lives. I think we should begin to redefine the aging process  and stop thinking of ourselves as   old  baggages to be confined to some dusty corner and realize our potential  for continuing to be  productive in society .

                Yeah , I too think I’m too old to be young and too young to be old …but I’m enjoying the phase.

I hope you can hear me humming…”Abhi toh mein jawaan hoon”J

           The You Tube is creating a not so silent revolution . If I sift through the  multiple medleys of thoughts that’s been  bombarding my mind for the past two hours, as I have been watching one video after another,  this is the one thought that comes across as the most frequent refrain.

          Of course one can wonder at the authenticity of videos posted by freelancers and it is true that  films and documentaries and videos can be made in a way so as to project a certain viewpoint. But the nice part is that one is not confined to having access to only a few limited sources and one can crosscheck to one’s heart’s content before arriving at any conclusion.  

            My friend Venkitesh  had wondered in one of his recent Facebook status updates , soon after the  CWG curtains came down, about what had happened to all our spirited runners. This video I came across on the You Tube , should give him at least some answers(not that he is not aware of them himself).  The report is in Malayalam. So I have ventured to translate it for my non-mallu friends. I hope it helps to co-relate it with the power point presentation  given in this video. The news that athletics are not given the priority it deserves is not actually news .  But Nisha Shetty’s story was news to me. I hadn’t heard of her or I had chosen to ignore the news item when it must have been published in some inconspicuous column of the paper.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5JffigG_wq8&feature=related

“The Yamuna is one of the most polluted rivers in the world. The Government has already spent 5000 million  dollars for the cleaning Yamuna project and yet all this has not really yielded any results. Most of the time the funds that the Government  is  spending for the improvement of sports does not also have any results. This is a report prepared through a power point presentation by Shri B. Dilip about  the present obstacles facing the sports front  .

           You can consider this girl , sitting with her face covered , in the police jeep as a symbol of the Indian Sports scenario of the present times. If we may justify this young woman, Nisha Shetty , it would be that she is a visible example of how the sportspersons of our country are constantly ignored. Nisha Shetty , an Assamese athlete, was the silver medal winner  in the national games of 1998. She fell in love and got married to the national level football champion Sunil Shetty. They were rejected by both families. With the death of her husband who was suffering from some kidney related health problems, Nisha  who had a five year old daughter was in the midst of troubled waters. She who had aspired to bring Spring  into her life by springing to greater heights in the High jump events, realized that all that was in vain. When the cries of her hungry child fell sharply on her ears, Nisha did not stop to think any further. She became an  object  of exhibition to the same society who had chosen to turn a blind eye and deaf ears to her athletic prowess. Eventually, the Chattisgarh police apprehended her for engaging in prostitution. Although the court had allowed her bail, she had to spend one more night in the Raipur jail because she did not have the money to pay the bail amount. It is only when the Chattisgarh Volleyball Association came forward with the bail money for this Assamese  athlete that  she come out of jail. It was following this event that the news was published about how the 1956 football team who was in the fourth place in the 1956 Olympics , had refused the petty amount that the Ministry of Sports had decided to grant them . What had offended them was that the Government had settled for a one time payment of Rs. 25000 in answer to their demand for a pension.

        As far as India is concerned today Sports is being defined as Cricket for all practical purposes. In the glamour and wealth surrounding cricket, all other sports fade out of the limelight  and are ignored. What is the reason for this? Karna Malleswari , the Oympic bronze medal winner has this to say, “If you look at the background of the athletes, all or most of them come from villages. We are not able to provide equipments or coaches or stadium  to the sports talents in the villages.”

              As of today, hockey is still the official game of our nation. From 1928 to 1980 the hockey team had found a place in the medal tally of the Olympic games and during this period the team had won 8 golds, one silver and one bronze. But from 1983 , when the cricket team, under the stewardship of Kapil Dev became the World cricket champions, the position underwent a change. Cricket reached the villages.  Even if they were ignorant of the rules of other games, cricket terms became familiar to the young and old. Even when they were ignorant of the names of the captains of the football and hockey teams,  the newcomers in the cricket teams became household names. Shri Madhavan , senior sports journalist explains that a young cricket player who has just reached the Ranji Trophy level  earns around Rs.25000-40000 a month , when at the same time, athletes who have reached the same level of proficiency in their respective fields even find it difficult to get  a job and it is because of these circumstances that youngsters are turning to cricket.

       It is now 25 years since P.T. Usha lost the medal by one hundredth of a second in the Olympics. And yet not many will give a ear to the story of that sprint.  They will remember the 20-20 and the sixers of Yuv Raj  and the hat trick of Harbahajan Singh against the Australians. Nobody will be able to forget the reception the Indian cricket team got when they won the 20-20. We have  given  so much importance to cricket that it is possible that if World chess champion Vishwanathan Anand, All England badminton champion P.Gopichand , the squash player from Kerala Deepika Pallickal who has been creating ripples in the game or the Olympic gold medal winners Abhinav Bhindra and Sushil Kumar ,sit next to us we may not recognize them. It is not the case that we should ignore cricket but that we should overcome the contempt we have for the other games.”

        The powerpoint  presentation in the video concluded with the recapitulation of an actual incident. When the Indian hockey team qualified for the finals for the  first time in the Los Angeles Olympics of 1950, FIFA had insisted that the players should be wearing shoes , the barefooted Indian players withdrew. Since then the Indian football team has not reached anywhere close to the finals in the Olympics.”

     One report in today’s Hindu , “Question marks over cost of Commonwealth games” says that out of the 41 sportspersons who shared the 38 gold medals won by India at the CWG this year, 10 were from the Armed forces , five from the public services , 13 came from affluent families who could afford expensive training for the sports and nine came from deprived backgrounds and had to struggle long and hard to reach an international platform. According to official figures, the report says, only 638 crore was spent for training sportspersons.

                  So why wonder why the spirited runners are in low spirits Venkitesh?

       Happy Dussehra folksJ

         Been a while since I’ve been around here.  I guess that the Facebook has been engaging me quite a lot. It’s fun out there as of now, because I’ve been able to reconnect with so many of my friends, classmates and neighbours and there is a lot of catching up. But yes, I miss the old days out here as well. There used to be such a lot of lively discussions and amusing things going on. 

       Rediff didn’t do anyone a favour with this whole makeover thing did they? We don’t even get prompts when a friend has put up a post. Sometimes it does become a case of out of sight out of mind except in the case of those who have become more than just acquaintances. 

      But then Facebook has its limitations as well.  Sometimes you really want to share something, doing which is likely to take up some space and just when you’ve finished putting it down in words in the “what’s on your mind” space there, they tell you that you have to limit what is on your mind to just so many words. That can be very “put offing”.

          Well I do have something to share with you all now. It’s what these children at Saksham have written. You see being Dussehra and all , we thought it would be a good idea to make them write what they knew about the festival. They were told that what they wrote would be assessed for language skills, grammar, handwriting and original thinking. With the last bit in view, the kids were told that they should be able to write the story of Ramayana as succinctly as possible and elaborate on what they thought about Sita’S Agni pareeksha. They were to give reasons for their particular viewpoint. 

         The children given this task were in the age group of 12 to 16 years.  The following are the best written ones. Could you help in concluding which of them are the three best ones  (and why?)

           All other comments are also welcome. They will be duly passed on to the children.

        The write-ups are unedited and reproduced as it is.

            Laxmi-aged 15 years.

Bahut  samay  pehle  pracheen  kaal  ki  baat  hai. Ayodhya  ke  Raaja  Dasharath  ke  chaar  putr  the.  Raja  Dashrath ke  sabse  bade putr   ka  naam  Ram  tha.  Raja Dashrath ki  teen patni  thi . Dashrath ke aayu bahut  ho gayi  aur  ab  woh  chahte  the , ke  mere baad  mera  sabse   bada  beta  shri  Ramchandr  gadda  sambhalega.  Parantu  chaudah  varsh ke vanvaas ke  karan  ye  sambhav  nahi  hua.  Ramji  ko  vanvaas ho gaya aur  ve  apne  zindagi  jungle me  bitaane  lagi. Aur  unke  saath(2)  Sitaji bhi  unke  saath rahne lage.

         Ek baar ki baat hai. Bahut baar Raavan apne vesh  badalkar  Sita ka apharan ke irade se  aaya  tha. Parantu  ve apne  mukaam me  kaamyaab nahi hua.  Aur  Raam aur  Laxman  ko  shaq   hone laga.  Parantu  unhone  dyaan  nahi  diya.   Ek din  Ravan  ek pyara sa bagule ke vesh lekar aaya aur Sitaji use  dekhkar  khush  hui.  Aur  laxman  rekha  se  paar  bahar  nikal  gayi. Phir  Raavan  apne  puna   vesh  se  aaya. Aur  phir  Sitaji  ko  legaya.  

        Sitamaa  apni  jeevan  ashok  vaatika  me  bitane lagi.  Ram  aur  laxman  bahut  dukhi  hue, parantu  ve  karte  bhi  kya?  Ek  din  Ram ne  Hanuman  ko  Sita  ke  paas  uski  haal  poochne  ke  liye  beja.  Hanumaan vahan  gaye  aur  Maata  Sita  se  mile  aur  vaada  kiya  ki  jald  hi  unhe  le  jaayega.  Sita  ko  apne   Lanka   me  rakhne  ke  baad bhi,  Raavan  apne  gandhe  vichaar me  kaamyaab nahi hua. Aur  anth  me  yudh  ke  dauraan  Ram ke  vijay aur  Ravan  ke  haar hui. Phir  Ram  Sita ko vapas legaya  par apnaaya  nahi. Phir  Sita se  agni  pareeksha  dene  ko  kahaan.

        Par  jab  Sita pavitr  hai, toh   woh agni pareeksha  kyon  de? Meri  vichaar  yahi  hai  ki  is  kahani  me  Ramji  galat  tha.  Sitamaa sahi  prateet hoti hai. 

Yogesh  -aged 13 years

Yeh  prashn  ban kar  rahgaya  Ramji  ne  Sita  ko  agni  pareeksha  dene  ko  kahan  yeh  unhe  karna  chahiya  tha  ki  nahi. Is  ke  bare  me  sochkar  likhna  chahiye.  

Mujhe  yeh  Ramayan  padkar  yeh  vishwaas  zaroor  ho  gaya  ki  Raamji  par  itne  sankhat  aaye  the.  Iske  baavjoot  Ramji  ne  apni  priya  Sitaji  ko  prapt  kar  liya!  Kintu  itne  sangharsh  ke  baad  bhi  Ramji  phir  Sita  ko  agni  pareeksha  dene  ko  kaha , toh  jahan  tak  adhiktam manushya  isse  theek  nahi  samjhenge,  kyonki  sawaal  yeh  udthi  hai ki  itne  sanghat  karne  ke  baad , woh  yeh  sochkar  Sita  ko  Lanka  se  laaye  ki  unse  pareeksha  karvaaye ?  Mera  maanna  yeh hai ki Ramji ne  Sitaji  se  anyay  kiya tha. 

Sitaji  ne  agni   pareeksha  dedi  parantu Sitaji toh  nirdosh  thi. Lekin  pareeksha  dene ke  baad Sitaji  paas  hogayi.  Ramayan  padne  ke  baad  hume  yeh  sabak  milta  hai  ki  kisi  par  ilzaam  nahi  lagaana  chahiye.  Kuch  bhi  karne  se  pehle  apni  soch  aur  vichar  se  kaam  karna  chahiye.  Ramayan  ke  padne  ke  baad 50% logon ko  ye yakeen  hogaya  hoga ki  kisiko  bina  jaane  ya  kisike  baaton par  nahin  maanna  chahiye.

Bina  soche  samjhe  kisi  par  bhi  jhoot  ka  shaq  nahi  karn chahiye.                                                                              Dhanayavaad, Yogesh

Arti Behanwal-aged 15 years

Bacchon tumne Ramayan toh suni hogi ki Ram  ne  Sita ko  agni  pareeksha dene  ko  kaha. Kya woh theek  tha?  Mujhe  toh  yeh  lagta   hai  ki Raja  Ram  ko  aise  nahi  karna  chahiye  tha.Ram  ne  logon  ke  kehne  me  aakar  Sita  ko  agni  pareeksha  dene  ko  kaha aur  Sita ne  agni  pareeksha  de di. Sita  pavitr  thi  kyonki  Ram  ke  kehne  par  Sita agni  pareeksha  de di  thi.

Aaj  kal  ke  log  Ramayan ki tarah hi  karte  hai.  Jisse  dekho   apne  patni  ke  baat  kuch  kisike  muhn  se suni  nahi  aur  jhagda  karna  shuru  kardiya.  Woh log  aise  kyon  karte  hai?  Kya  un  logon  ko   apni  patni  par  bharosa  nahin? Woh   log  auron  ke  kehne  me  aakar  aise  karte  hain  jiske saath woh  jeevan bitate hain.  Usko   ek  pal  me  chod dete hain. Aisa  hi  aajkal  hote  hain  ki aurat ko apni  sachayi  bayaan karne ke  liye  agni  pareeksha  deni  padti  hain. Jaise   Sita ne  agni  pareeksha  di waise  hi  aaj ki  aurat bhi  aisa  karti  hai.

Mera  manna hai  ki  har  tarah  ki  pareeksha  aurat  hi  deti  hai.  Aadmi  kyon  nahi? 

Uddesh-aged 12 years

Ek baar jab Raja Dashrath yudh kar rahe the  tab unka rath ka pahiya khul gaya aur ve haarne  lage.  Tab kaikeyi ne  pahiye ke badle  apne anguli  se  rath chala kar  Raja Dashrath ki jaan  bacha liya toh raja  ne unko do var  maangne ko kaha. Rani kaikeyi ne kaha ki mei yeh dono var baad me maangoongi.

Raja Dashrath boode ho chuke the. Ve apne raaj  priy  bête Ram ko dena chahte the. Isi beech Manthara ne Kaikeyi ko bhatkaya aur kaha ki dono var maango. Pehle mei Bharat ke liye  raaj gaddi aur doosre Ram ke liye chaudah varsh ke liye vanvaas. Raja Dasrath chaunk pade par vaada ke kaaran bebas the.

Ram vanvaas jaane ke liye taiyyaar ho gaya. Ram ke saath unke patni Sita aur unke bhai Laxman bhi tayyar ho gaye. Ek baar jab Ram aur Laxman khutiya se baahar gaye the tab ravan ne sadhu ke vesh lekar Sita ko le gaya. Ram ne Ravan ko yudh me harakar  Sita ko vaapas le liya. Un dinon chaudah varsh poora ho chuka tha.

Jab Ram Ayodhya pahunche toh unko unka raj vapas mila. Ram ne ek sipahi ko kaha ki aap vesh badalkar ghumte raho .Agar mere  raj me kisiko koyi pareshani aaye toh mujhe batana. 

Ek baar jab ek aadmi ne aavaaz uthaya toh Ram ne Sita ko agni pareeksha dene ko kaha.  Sita woh  bhi dene ko taiyyar ho gayi. Agle din Ayodhya me sab aadmi ke saamne  Sita ne agni pareeksha di. Par usse bhi kaam nahi hua. Phir garbvati Sita ko jungle me chod diya. 

Jungle me Sita ko do bête hue  Lav aur Kush. Sita ko bahut pareshani uthani  padi . Raja hone ke karan Ram ne yeh theek nahi kiya kyonki  ve raja tha. Kisi bhi vyakti ka yeh kaam nahi  ki ek garbvati ko jungle me chode. Sita maata ka baccha hone tak toh rukh sakte the.  Lekin kisi ne bhi yeh nahi socha. Agar unke badale mei hota toh mei ye nahi karta . kam se kam Sita maata ka bachcha toh hone deta. Mei aap logon se kehna chahta hoon ki bhavishya me kabhi bhi aisa cheez aaye toh soch samajh kar kaam karna.

                                               -Dhanyavad

Altaf Hussain –Aged 15 years 

Aap shayad yeh jaant e  honge  ki  Raja Dashrath kaun the? Ye Bhagwaan  Ramchandraji  ke  pita the. Ye  Bharat, Laxman  aur Shatrughan ke bhi pita the. Inka teen patniyan thi  ,Kaushalya, Sumitra  aur  Kaikeyi.

Raja  Dashrath  ke  ghar me  kisi  tarah  ke  bhedbaav  ke  kaaran  Ramchandraji  ko  14  saal ke liye vanvaas  jaana  pada. Ram  ke  saath-2  Sita  aur  Laxman  bhi  gaye. Vanvaas  jaate -2  , raaste  me  Ravan  ne  Sita  ko  agwa  kar  liya  aur  Sita  ko  bhagaakar  Lanka  le  gaya. Ram  Raavan  ka  peech  karte -2 Lanka  ja  pahuncha. Ram ne Lanka pahunchkar Ravan ke  mahal  ka  pata  laga  liya.  Lanka me  Ravan  aur  Ram  ke  beech  bhayankar yudh  hua.  Yudh  me  Ramchandra  ne  vijay  prapt ki.   Vijay  prapt  karke  Ayodhya  laute.  Ayodhya  me  Ramchandraji  ka  jor  -shor se  swagat kiya  gaya. Usi  din  se  dussehra  parv  manaya  jane  laga aur  aaj  bhi  dussehra  bade  dhoom-  dhaam  se  manaya  jaata  hai.

Ayodhya  lauthe  hi  Ayodhya  vaasiyone  Sita  ko  lekar  Ramji  ko  bhatkaya   aur  kahaan “Hum  Sita  ko  is  rajya  me  rehne  nahin  denge”  Jab  Sita  ne  pehli  agni   pareeksha  dedi  thi  , toh  doosri  agni  pareeksha  dene  ke  liye   Ayodhya  vaasiyone  kaha  toh  Sita  doosri  agni  pareeksha  kyon  nahi  diya?  Isse  zaahir  si  baat hai  ki Ayodhaya vaasiyon  ko  gussa  aayega  hi.

Isse  yeh  prakat  hota  hai  ki  galti  Sita  ka  hi  tha.  Mere  khayal  se  Sita  ko  doosri  agni  pareeksha  de  deni  chahiye  thi.  Jisse  yeh  bhedbaav  shayad  nahi  hota.

                                                                            -The end

 Shubham Kumar  -ages 15 years

Hum sab jaante hai ki Dussehra kyon banaya jaata hai,  kyonki is din Ram ne Lanka ke Raja Ravan ko yudh me harakar Lanka par  vijay prapt kiya tha. Isi khushi me Dussehra manaya jata hai.

Jab Ram Sita ko lekar Ayodhya aaye, toh kayi logon ne utsaah banaya aur kayi lok Sita par lachan lagaya  ki Sita apavitr hai kyonki Sita kayi dinon tak Ravan ke paas rahi thi.

Ram Bhagwan toh sab jaante the , phir bhi sita ka  agni pareeksha liya kyonki unke rajya ke praja ne Sita par laachan lagaya tha. Sita ne khushi se agni pareeksha di, Agni ne bhi Sita  ko pavitr maana tha. Lekin kuch  praja ko abhi bhi Sita par shaq tha. Ram ko jab yeh baat pata chali toh Ram ne apne praja ke bhalayi ke liye Sita ko van me vanvaas kaatne liye  bhejdiya aur Sita vanvaas kaatne chali gayi.

Is vishay  me  mera  manna  hai ki koyi bhi desh ka raja yahi karta jo ki Ramne kiya tha. Agar mei Ram ki jagah rahta toh mei bhi yahin karta kyonki raja ko apne khushi ka dhyaan nahi balki apne rajya ke praja ki khushi ka dhyaan rakhna hota hai.Jo bhi raja banta apne praja ke saath saday nyay karna chahiye.

 Lekin agar insaaniyat ke nazariye se dekhe  toh yeh galat hai kyonki agar Sita ko koyi  le gaya toh usme uski kya galti thi? Agar Ram par yeh dosh lagaya jaata toh unhe agnipareeksha nahi deni padti kyonki woh mard the. Agar kabhi bhi dosh lagate toh saday aurat par lagata hai, humare samaj mei aurat ko saday neecha maana jaata hai. Aise nahi hona chahiye. Donon ko barabar sammaan dena chahiye.

Tabhi  humare  desh  aage  badega,  nahi  toh nahin.

 Sunil Kumar –Aged 16 years

 Pracheen samay ki baat hai.  Raja Dashrath ki patni Kaikeyi  dwara  Ram chandraji ko 14 varsh ke liye vanvaas beja gaya.  Inke saath inke patni Sita aur inke bhai laxman bhi gaye. Ye van me bahut khush the. Ek din jab Ram aur laxman bhojan ke talaash me  van  me  gaye  toh dusht ravan ne ek pandit ke vesh me  aakar Sitamaata ako agwah kar liya . Lekin Ram ne Hanuman ke saath milkar Ravan par vijay prapt kar liya.

Lekin  Ram , Laxman aur Sita vanvaas poora karke aaye tab ayodhyavaasiyone  Sita ke pavitrata par sandeh kiya aur uski daaman par unguli uthayi. Tab Ramne un gramvaasiyon ke jhanse me aakar agni pareeksha dene ko kaha. Sita ne bina kuch soche samjhe hanst-2 agni me gujar gayi aur unhe kuch bhi nahi hua. 

Lekin mujhe lagta hai ki Ramchandraji ko aise nahi karna chahiye tha kyonki shaadi ka rishta tabhi nibaya ja sakta hai jab ek doosre par vishwas ho. Lekin isme Shri Ramchandraji ki koyi galti nahi kyonki hamara charon ore ka samaaj aisa hai ki yadi koyi stree ek raat baahar bitakar aaye toh na jaane kya kya baate karte hai. Isi kaaran Shri Ramchandraji  Ayodhya gramvaasiyon ki baton me aakar Sita se agni pareeksha dene ko kaha.  Iska matlab tha ki Ramchandraji ko apne jeevan saathi se zyaada Ayodhyavaasiyon par bharosa tha.

 Nitin Kumar –aged 15 years

Hamara  Bharat bahut pavitra bhumi raha  hai.  Isme anek mahayodha ka janam hua hai jaise  Krishna , Ram Arjun aadi.

   Ram Ayodhya ka raja tha. Unki sauteli ma kaikeyi ke kehne par Ramchanraji, Sita  aur  laxman  vanvaas gaye the. Beech me  Ravan ne  Sita ko uthakar le gaya. Thatha  Ram ne ravan se yudh karke  Sita ko chudvakar  chaudah saal ke baad Ayodhya laut aaye. Tab inke aane par  yahan ke praja ne unguli uthayi aur kaha ki Sita achut ho chuki hai., hum ise sweekar nahi karenge. Tab ram ne Sita ko again pareeksha dene ke liye kaha. Aap vichar karke batayiye ki Ramne jo kiya who sahi kiya ya galat kiya?

 Mujhe lagta hai ki Ramchandraji jo kiya us samay ke hisaab se sahi tha. Lekin ye bilkul galat tha. Hume kisike kehne par shaq nahi karna chahiye. Agar Ramchandraji kahin baahar se aate  toh Sita ya phir koyi aurat kisi aadmi se nahi poocha jaata. Kisi aadmi par shaq nahi kiya jaata toh phir aadmi auraton par bina dekhe shaq kyon karte hai? Vaise hi Shri Ramchandra ji Sita par bina soche samjhe gramvaasiyon ke baton me aakar un par shaq kiya yeh bilkul galat baat hain. Hume  jab tak poori baat pata na chal jaaye hume kisi par galat vishwaas nahi karna chahiye.

Mujhe aasha hai ki aap sab yeh padkar kisi par bhi bina soche samjhe galat vishwaas nahi karenge.  Dhanyavaad.

Sachin Kumar- aged 15 years

Bacchon hamara desh me anek aise mahaan vyaktiyon ne janam liya hai jinme, Ramchandraji Krishna, Prahlad aadi the.  Ayoyadhya raj ke Ram ka naam toh aap sabhi ne suni hogi.

RamAyodhay ke Raja the. Unki patni ka naam Sita tha. Unki Sauteli make ek sakhi thi jisne Ram ki ma ko kah tha ki who ram ko vanvaas bej de. Uske kathnaanusaar Ram ke pita ne Ram ko vanvaas bhejdiya. Raaste me ravan ne Sita ko agvah kar liya jiski khoj karte karte Ram Lanka Pahuncha. Wahan Ram aur Ravan ke madhy  bhishn yudh hua jisme Shri ramchandraji vijay hue. Vijay ke paschaath Sita ne wahan par upasthith sanpoorn jante ke saamne again pareeksha di thi. Uske paschaath ve Ayodhya vapas aagaye. Khushi khushi apne jeevan vyatheeth karne lage. 

Kuch saptahon ke paschaath vahan ki junta ke dimaag me aaya ki Sita 14 saal Ravan ke ghar me rahi thi. Sita mata pavitr hai ki nahi is baat par Ayodhya me jor shor se charcha hone lagi  Ek din saari janta Ayodhay gayi aur Ramchandra se kaha ki hum kaise vishwaas kare ki Sita mata pavitr ahi. Atah aap kripa karke Sita mata se kahiye ki woh agni pareeksha se hokar  guzre. Par Sita ne saaf inkaar kardiya.

   Mujhe aise lagta hai ki Sita mata ko aise nahi karna chahiye. Yadi junta chahti thi ki Sita agni pareeksha se hokar guzre toh unhe aisa aavashya karna chahiye. Yadi aisa hua hota hai aaj shayad sthithi kuch aur hota. Mujhe toh saari galti Laxman ki lagti hai. Agar who Sita mata ko khutiya me chodkar nahi jaate toh shayad yeh sab nahi hota aur na hi ramayan sampoorn hota hai. Is duniya me kisi bhi naari par vishwaas nahi kiya jaata hai.

Priya- aged 14 years

  Pracheen kaal kibaat hai.Ayodhya me Raja Dasharath naam ke raja raaj karte the . Unke putr ram ke shaadi Sita se hui. Shaadi ke baad Shr Ram ko vaade ke mutabik raj peeth tyag karke vanvaas jaana pada.Unki saath unki patni Sita thatha Bhai Laxman bhi gaya. Phir Sita ki sundarta ke karan Lanka ke raja Ravan sadhu ka vesh banakar Sita ka harankar le gayi.

Ram ne kayi baar Ravan ko chetavani di ki Sita ko chodkar Ram ji se maafi maang le. Lekin Ravan unki baat nahi maana aur Sita se jabarjasti shaadi karne ki thaak me tha.

Dheere -2 samay beeta gaya. Ram ki sabar ki imtihaan hota gaya.Aur phir Ram ne vaanar thatha reech sena ka nirmaan kara aur Lanka par aakraman kar diya aur ram ne Sita ko puna: vapas le liya. Unko lekar jab ram ne 14 varsh ke vanvaas ke baad Ayodhya gaye toh bahut se logon ne unke upar unguli uthayi aur kaha yeh Sita apavitr hai. Ise hum apni rani nahi sweekarenge kyonki ye 14 varsh ke aadhe se bhi zyaada varsh Ravan ke saath rahi hai. Agar yeh maharani banna chahti  hai toh inhe again pareeksha deni hogi.

Jahaan tak mujhe lagta hi kiwoh log ye sab nahin bolna chahiye tha kyonki vahi ghatna unke saath ghatthi toh ve us baat ko kisi na kisi tarah daba dete hai aur doosre ke upar unguli uthane me sabse aage hai. Isliye mujhe lagta hai ki logon ko ye nahin kehna chahiye thatha chahe unko uski bare me sab kuch kyon na pata ho. Kyonki doosre pe unguli uthane ka kisi ko bhi haq nahi hai.

             What do I do in my spare time?…read , listen to music and watch films, mostly. Nowadays its more of watching films than the other two pursuits. Being a member of Bigflix makes it easy , as you can make a list of the movies you would want to watch and they will deliver it at your doorstep.

           The movie hall is not a frequent haunt  though. I feel it’s worth the money I spend only if the film leaves something on your mind even after you come out of the hall. Most of the bollywood films  being churned out these days don’t  measure up. But I went to see  Amir Khan’s production,“ Peepli  live” and liked it too.

          The best part of the film was the total unpretensiousness of its actors. All of them new to the screen except Raghubir Yadav , who is as authentic in his role as he always is . Raghubir Yadav along with the totally new to the screen local actor Omkar  Das Manikpuri  even outshone  my favourite actor Naziruddin Shah, who plays a cameo role in the film. The theme of the story is grim –suicide of farmers, but it is brought to the attention of the audience palatably packaged  in a lot of black humour.So you find yourself smiling even when you are conscious of the fact that the reality of the subject will make you feel terribly uncomfortable when you think about it afterwards.

          The film is also an indictment of today’s media and the way they go about chasing stories and bytes for raising their TRPs, without any real concern or sensitivity, as well of the political parties and their machinations. Director Anusha Rizvi has indeed made a remarkable debut.

          I saw Peepli Live a couple of days after  I watched  Shyam Benegal’s “Nishant” , from home. It was one of his movies I had missed seeing all these years. His films are of course the kind one can watch again and again and still feel engrossed.  He has an eye for detail that makes even a period  film be portrayed with authenticity. Just to quote a small example ..in the film Shabana Azmi , as the young wife of the local teacher is shown wearing a bodice instead of a bra. The whole ambience of the film takes you back to the forties. The film has an excellent cast. Shyam Benegal is said to be one of those Directors who can take the best out of an actor. If you see Amrish Puri, whom you would otherwise associate with “Mogambo khush hua” kind of roles , in the role of the feudal landlord , you will have to agree . His body language and expressions conveys more about the aggressiveness and chauvinism of the character he plays than his dialogues which are really minimal in the film.

            One would think that by now our democracy would have rendered the kind of feudal exploitation and chauvinism  brought out in a film like “Nishant”,things of the past. But that would be wishful thinking. Here is a report from an acitivist group, who are training volunteers to come up with their reports on ground reality in different parts of the country. They are not looking for TRP ratings , that’s for sure and I for one don’t see any hidden agenda , although the corporate lobby and the political parties with their vested interests are constantly trying to paint genuine activism as mischief making.

http://swara.no-ip.org/index.php?id=1313

      And to wind up this blog, let me tell you that I spent a lazy afternoon today watching a film by the Iranian Director Abbas Kiarostami. A slowly unwinding film with not even a real story to it. A film is being shot in an Iranian village recently ravaged by an earthquake. A local youth  who is engaged as an actor in the film is obsessed with a girl in the village who plays the role of his newly married wife in the script which again is placed in the backdrop of the same earthquake that had uprooted that village.That’s about it. Even that is not taken to any kind of conclusion . The shooting wraps up  and the girl still hasn’t said a word in response to the youth’s constant proposals. She decides to walk back home instead of squeezing into one of the few vehicles available for transporting back the children and the flower pots and  the film team and their equipments and all the other knickknacks. The Director who has become the youth’s confidante urges him to follow the girl. The camera follows them first  with   close range shots of the two walking through the olive groves, the lad   trying to persuade her why marrying him would be a good thing for her and she stubbornly refusing to open her mouth even if it be to turn him down. The film ends with a long shot of the two figures appearing as just two spots across the open field and you are left to arrive at your own conclusions about what may have transpired. As I said , a slow film , but I found it eminently watchable..the strong point, again, authenticity.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T4Ue-t2XKnU&feature=related

   Wish you all a very happy onamJ

The house is quiet and I’m  alone with my thoughts

There are many plaguing me , I must confess.

Why strifes and struggles, why loss and gain

Why minds light as laughter and minds under duress?

What is the truth ? What is it for me?

The certainty  of death  and human misery?

Or is it the innocence that we’ve lost on the way?

Is it the hope that we can retrieve it some day?

Am I complete in myself, is that true?

Or do  we always exist outside ourselves?

Will peace descend when I detach ?

Why this longing to be part of your consciousness?

Am I a fool  to dream of a mindscape

Where we don’t need to hunt  or find escape

Me the saint and me the sinner

And you the lion and you the deer