With Lord Varuna’s army

Here as the ship proceeds deeper and deeper in the Arabian Ocean, eyes could see nothing but the water and water all the way around. Dominating waves clash the vessel quite often and ocean shows a bit of its enormous power as the warship weighting more than three thousand tones swings as if a petty petal on a peaceful lake.

While on my first ever sea voyage in life, my eyes stay wide open in search of at least something land-like on that line joining the waters and the sky; my ears stand up to receive at least some pinch of the voice other than that of the vigorous roars of waves collapsing on the iron walls of the ship; and my senses stay alert to receive at least some other feel than that of the humid, salty wind blowing through the sea. Search goes on, but nothing other than the sea can be seen, can be heard or can be felt while roaming deep into the Kingdom of Sagara. Miniscule in front of the strength of the ocean, here, we humans are on the mercy of Lord Varuna.

While some men in Royal Navy Blue uniform boast to be the men of Lord Varuna himself. These are the members of Indian Navy. They are fearless, soft-spoken, well learned, and well behaved. They are disciplined gentlemen and intelligent decision makers. They are confident, but not careless; strong but not aggressive; and light-hearted but prepared for every situation. As I sail through Arabic Ocean with them in INS Sharada, a proud feeling of being an Indian roars harder than the mighty waves in my heart. Our men are committed, busy in the practice and ready to help. They have earned the respect of world Navy for their gentlemanly conduct and polite behavior. But the thing that takes our men towards the higher level than any other force in the world is their indomitable faith on Lord Varuna, their supreme savior. No other Navy in the world has the divine interference but Indians do have. Thanks to the rich cultural heritage of India.

Indian Navy has ‘Shan No Varuna’ (May Lord Varuna Protect Us); a Sanskrit expression from ‘Rigveda’ as its motto. The Maritime Warfare Centre In Kochin, where the Naval officers and sailors are groomed strong for the stronger naval security system; the Sanskrit verse ‘Yuddhasya Abhyase Raneh Vijayashree’ (Rigorous practice insures victory in war) is written as motivation. Indian Cost Guards those who work day and nights to protect our seashores have ‘Vayam Raksham’ (We protect), another Sanskrit expression as their motto.

As we walk through the Naval estate in Kochi, the Sanskrit and spiritual quotes can be found written at many places and this is why our men in armed forces are so spiritually motivated. INS Dronacharya, a school where the naval officers are trained for gunnery and high-end weaponry. The motto of this school is ‘Kuru Prahar Prathame’, another Sanskrit expression meaning ‘Hit first’. Whether be the names of our missiles or be the names of our warships, all are inspired by our cultural heritage and all our men, irrespective of religion and caste, seek inspiration from the culture itself.

While being with the Naval officers and sailors, my respect for our spiritually rich culture raises for hundreds of thousand times as it is our ancestral heritage, that has kept motivating our forces over the years.

Towards God’s own Country

Mother nature has bestowed her most preserved treasure on this land. As my train entered Kerala, lush green farms, golden sunshine, and coconut trees – a little smaller than we see in the landscapes – welcomed me in God’s own country!

Here, train passes from the backyards of small houses, and stops at the stations we used to see in the landscapes or in the RK Laxman sketches from ‘Malgudi Days’.

In fact, the railway travel makes me feel proud of being an Indian! Like in spite of all wrong practices and corrupt politicians; we still feel proud of being world’s biggest democracy; in spite of all poor facilities and irregular services the railway provides; I feel proud of traveling by world’s second biggest railway network here in India. Railway stations situated at frequent distances, and the infrastructure developed at the stations make me feel like being a citizen of wealthy state. The signal systems at railway routes, the way they follow timetable, and the accuracy of trains while stopping at the railway stations – with the particular bogey stopping exactly at its denoted place – everything fascinates me whenever I travel by train.

Kochin, being a harbor, has no individual junction and trains do stop at Ernakulam railway station, situated just a few kilometers away from Konchin. As I stepped down, I found this station quite similar to Nagpur’s one. It was quite easy for me to find out the main entrance gate, where the Jawans of Indian Navy were waiting for us. As journalists participating in the Defence Correspondence Course are the special guests during these thirty days, they receive special welcome from force officials. It is a matter of proud for the scribes to receive a treatment of Commissioned Officers during the course. As our car left the railway station, a small tour of Ernakulam town was in the offing.

Traffic jams are very common features of Kerala. Here, the roads are narrow and the houses are constructed in quite congested way. As we see the map, we see Kerala as a small piece of land, adjacent to the seashore. Adjusting with the land, almost everything here comes in the small package. Houses and huts are small, coconut trees are dwarf, and roads are narrow as a result of which city-buses are also small. As my car was heading towards Wellington Iceland, I noticed one more thing roads and the railway tracks go parallel to each other many times here. This is quite a rare to notice in Nagpur. As our destination was on the Iceland, we had to pass over a bridge installed on the backwaters of Arabian Sea. Kochin Shipyard is situated right around this channel. My eyes saw such a huge amount of water for the first time and they preferred to remain wide open for a while to catch the beauty. The over-bridge from which we passed was the third one constructed on the channel. The first one was quite old and was not in use, while the second one was for the light vehicles. Third was ours, on which almost all the heavy

Vehicles were commuting. There was another one, a parallel railway over-bridge. In all, the look was like the Iceland is being connected with four five different types of ropes to the Ernakulam town. Greenery is very common factor here. A very special feature of Kerala greenery that I noticed is liveliness. Nagpur is India’s second greenest city, but to maintain it green, the administration has to work quite hard. Here, nature itself creates and maintains the green of Kochin. After all, it’s God’s own! 

Living the dream and leaving the dream…

To gain something, one has to leave something; the unwritten law proved itself once again on Sunday wee hours, when I left Nagpur for Kochin. As Kerala Express gave its leaving alarm, I started realizing my long cherished dream to attend the Defence Correspondents Course - once in a lifetime opportunity for a journalist. However, in return to this dream, the destiny planned to take something of the very same magnitude - another lifetime opportunity from me.

Each phase of life has its own flavour and it should be enjoyed to the fullest to make life a beautiful feeling. Childhood, school time, college days and bachelor life – every phase should be full of sharable memories; and why not the time of love and marriage? After all, most of the novels and almost all of the movies tell us that, the most sharable stories of life are love stories, and the most beautiful moments are when you are being loved by the person you love the most. Well, the destiny has planned to postpone these moments from my life, in return of the dream opportunity.

My fiancée was officially declared as my would-be wife just a day before I left for this course. And, we didn’t even find enough time to celebrate the occasion. Nothing is sad. But happiness coming in back-to-back packages has brought with it the dilemma that which happiness is bigger and to be celebrated. With this happy-happy and not-so-happy feeling, I left Nagpur for Kerala – God’s own country.

Well, God’s own country is still 22 hours away and my train is passing through Reddy’s own country – Andhra Pradesh right now. It’s a rainy day here in Warangal district and the farms are greener as compared to the farms in Vidarbha. Even the paddy farms are livelier than that of in rice growing Ramtek and Nagardhan area of Nagpur. Water bodies, especially, the farm lakes are pleasant to watch here and they are wealthy enough to make a person from rain-fed Vidarbha a bit envy.

Being a subscriber of Hyderabad edition of The Hindu, I have some idea of what is going on here in Andhra Pradesh. Farmers are suffering here, too; just like they are in Vidarbha. But, after watching the beautiful farm lakes, and considerably big rivers around, I wonder the problem of Andhra farmers can be solved with effective measures. Well, who takes effective measures here? Is the master question – applicable to Andhra Pradesh as well as for Vidarbha. 

But, there is some similarity that joins Vidarbha and Andhra Pradesh. I had been to Lucknow and Bhopal several years back, and I felt a terrible detachment to the land and atmosphere there. But, the Andhra land and the atmosphere is something homely, attached. The color of soil, the greenery, and even the feel in the air is quite homely here. The temples and buildings, houses and huts, bulls and buffaloes – all are like that in Vidarbha. After all, like Vidarbha, this part of land is also struggling for the separate statehood – another joining thread!

As I proceed further through Andhra Pradesh, I will be getting an opportunity to spend some moments at the feet of Lord Venkateshwara at Tirupati, where the train is scheduled to stop for ten minutes. After bowing in front of the Lord from the train itself, I will proceed for the God’s own country tonight.

Expressions

Children were given Grace’s one of the most popular poems – Bhay Ithale Sampat Nahi – to think on and make a clay model on it. Hundreds were the kids, and thousands were their ways of thinking. It was a poem by Marathi’s most complicated yet most expressive poet known for writing something out of the world, still very much within the heart. Difficult to understand for the literary critics and language experts, the Grace’s poetry was given to the school going children attending the art camp of Nagpur’s famous Basoli Group. Everyone was excited how children recreate the poetic expression into the clay modeling.

Results were fantastic. The poem, in brief, speaks about the recreation, rebirth and the memoirs. The most famous expression of it roughly says that ‘we rest (for ever) under the trees, to born again through the trees’. The same clicked many of the children. Some of them created a huge tree, two or three human figures resting under it, and one figure immerging out of it as a symbolic rebirth. Many created comparatively small trees, and small human figures, and a big figure immerging out of the tree. Some expressed that the one resting under the tree is mother, and the one immerging out from it is a child, while others relate it to the next generation.

Two or three kids created small simple clay balls, around ten-twelve in numbers and finished off. When asked, they explained that the round shaped clay balls were the seeds, which grow into another tree. Amazing concept, wasn’t it?  

What clicked me from the incident were the different manners of expressions we have with us. Some created a huge model, while others just a few clay balls. They expressed truthfully what they felt after reading the poem. Every art work was powerful enough to convey the message. No one was wrong or incorrect. The way of expression may be different, but that doesn’t affect the degree or the power of expression. The small seeds were equally powerful to the big clay model. Then came the question – if both ways of expression are right, then which way is better? – A small representative package or a huge expressive presentation?

I remembered an old interview with producer director Karan Johar. Probably, it was a clipping from the making of Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham, a multi-starrer mega movie with lavish sets and colourful jewellery and lights and hundreds of co-dancers and support artists everywhere. Karan Johar said, when frame comes to his mind, it’s always a massive one. That he can’t imagine small, ‘economic’ frame. Similarly, while reading an interview of legendary novelist Dr S L Bhyrappa, I remembered him saying that he always writes magnum opus because the plots come only in massive form in his mind. Johar’s movies, or Dr Bhyrappa’s novels – are, no doubt, popularly recognized as finest forms of expressions. So, can we say that the huge expression is always more appealing or preferable form?

Well, sometimes when I read two-lined ‘Chhoti Beher Ki Ghazal’ by Nasir Kazmi or Ahmed Faraz; I wonder the world can be expressed in two lines only. Or when I read Gulzar, I wonder, just one line is enough. One expression of Dilip Kumar speaks for the whole film, while one Bindu of Raza is enough to explain the whole art of painting. R K Laxman creates just a few figures and nothing more is necessary to convey the message, Sivamani beats simple bucket or a Kadhai and creates percussions at its best.

When I read Abhags of Sant Tukaram or Sant Dnyaneshwar; I wonder a few words are enough to explain whole universe. When I go deeper into the past towards the Upanishads and Vedas, I realize, two letters – ‘Prajnanam Brahma’ or ‘Aham Brahmasmi’ are enough. And finally, going even deeper makes me realize that only one letter – The Aum – is enough to express the whole thing. Then, can I conclude that the simpler, smaller and representative form of expression is better?

Observing the final display of hundreds of the clay models gave me the answer. The seeds created by two or three boys were catching attraction and also were gaining special appreciation from all. But, this was because the seeds were placed with the big and small clay models around. After going through others, when they used to notice the seeds, the beholders used to understand the smartness of the concept. Means, the elaborated expressions around were adding value and enhancing the quality of the small, representative expressions.

The big expressions attract the people towards the phenomenon and the small expressions tell the real meaning of it. Both must be there, as they help each others.

Big and small expressions exist with each others, for each others. They compliment each others. That is why followers of Buddhism create larger than the life statues of Buddha to take the common people towards the path of peace. That is why, our ancestors write Vedas, Upanishads and Mahakavyas to make us finally understand the two-word philosophies.

That is why Krishna shows a Vishwaroop to explain the way of life for common human beings. 

I trust…

‘We trust you’ is a great feeling. Hearing it from your loved ones fills you with energy; hearing it from friends makes you feel responsible and hearing it from parents takes you to enjoy the moment of highest contentment in the world.

Directly or indirectly, each and every one of us is busy in an effort of gaining trust. To make new friends, to strengthen the bonding, to gain respect, to earn money – the first and foremost capital investment is trust. It gives us new relationship; adds new people to our life. Trust is plinth, it’s the basic pillar; and just like a plinth or a pillar, it remains hidden and unnoticed all the time while playing the most important role.

‘Someone trusts me’ is greater feeling. It is the trust they have in me as a result of which staying away from my parents since last five years was never like living away from them for me. It’s this trust that keeps me reminding about my responsibilities. The trust makes me think righteously and select the right way from the countless options. It empowers me to say no, makes me wise enough to set and strong enough to pursue a goal. It tells me where to pause, where to speak and where to raise an alarm. Because somebody believes in me, it becomes my responsibility to keep the belief intact.

‘I trust someone’ is even greater feeling. It gives me a sense of security. Yes. Someone will come and support, someone will stand firm behind me in any situation is a moral boosting potion. Having someone trustworthy is like having another parallel life or a talisman with you. Lucky are those who have many such talismans around. I have selected some and happy with them. It’s really a difficult task to find out such talismans out of a crowd of friends and relatives. Well, what is easy then?

‘I trust myself’ is the greatest feeling. If I know what I am doing and what I can do, then I need not to worry about any other thing. But, it takes lives to realize, actualize the self. Those who achieve the stage of self-actualization become icons. For this, one Prince Siddhartha forsakes his palace pleasures one fine day and sits for the penance under a tree in deep forest. For this, Narayan Suryaji Thosar runs away from his own marriage function. For this, Narendranath Dutt keeps asking every wise man the only question – whether you have seen the god? For this, Debuji Janorkar leaves his family and farms, and starts walking all the way where his feet take. Leaving so many things for self-search is not easy. Well, what’s easy then?

Thousands of devotees walk tirelessly for weeks together to reach Pandharpur every year. This tradition is more than 1000 years old now. Devotees of Vithoba in Varkari tradition find the almighty in their respective work, and this makes them saints. Yes. The simplest way is to trust God.

That is why, ultimately, Narayan Suryaji Thosar’s search ends in finding Shri Ram as his deity and it makes him Samarth Ramdas. Narendranath Dutt’s search ends in finding Guru as his God and it makes him Swami Vivekananda. Debuji Janorkar’s search ends in finding ‘Gopala Gopala Devaki Nandan Gopala’ as his Mantra and it makes him Sant Gadgebaba. Ultimately, Prince Siddharth’s search ends in finding a light of wisdom within as his guide, and it makes him Buddha.

‘I trust God’ becomes greater than greatest feeling – Super superior to all.

Rain again!

He is not as punctual as Sun, which appears on the eastern sky every time to bring a new day for us. He is not as gentle as the first breeze of winter that comes in mid-October with a joy of harvesting festivals. He is not as silent as the moon, which keeps growing and slowing quietly over the year. He is like a spoiled child who loves to play the game of hide and seek. He keeps everyone waiting for him for long. He likes to see the frightened faces, anxious eyes and exhausted bodies. Hidden somewhere around, he enjoys watching people’s requests turning into prayers and ultimately prayers into curses, for bringing him out. After worrying, annoying and angering his mother Earth a lot, he comes out at once. And all anger, annoyance and worries just disappear. He is rain. He may come late, irregular, unstable, and unequal; but when he comes, he rules.
Just the first spell of the real monsoon not more than half and hour and the three-month long irritating humidity, etching heat and sweltering atmosphere disappears! Rain has this magic with him. It changes the earth within minutes. Yes, he may be spoiled, but he must be the most beloved child of Mother Earth. Who else can bring the sudden change in mother otherwise?

Rain knows no silence. He appears with a bang and band of cracking clouds and the lightning. He changes breeze into wind and wind into storm to uproot the strongest ever trees. He wants everyone to stop and give him his due attention. He makes it sure by holding the life standstill. He breaks to make it new, crushes to give new shape, kills to start different journey, and destroys to instill new life. Rain has his own way to handle the things. After all, he is a spoiled child, but not an irresponsible one.

Rain overpowers the punctual Sun and fills the atmosphere with the dark at any time of a day. Even if being the darkness, it is full of bright rays of hopes. These rays can be seen, felt and enjoyed. These rays have every aspect of life within them. For children, they become joyride of paper pinnaces; for lovers, a walk under a single umbrella; for elders a joiner of heaven and earth.

Once angry, dark, and destructive; the rain appears life-giver, lovely and creative on the other way. Starting with the darkness, he ultimately shares light of life. Rain receives prayers, as well as curses. He pleases children as well as the elders. He is playful and He is serious. He comes and damages a little, but if He refuses to come, the damage is immense.

Rain is just like Krishna. Named as ‘Ghanashyama’, Krishna also comes throught dark. By stealing the curd and butter from their earthern pots, he irritates the Gopis; while by distributing it into his friends, he pleases the children. As a ‘Chitchor’ of Vrindavan, he redefines the love for the whole humanity. He acts as a destroyer to kill many demons, and becomes a ruler of hearts. Like rain, Krishna also receives praise and prayers with a smile; and curses, too, with the same smile. Ultimately by sharing the greatest wisdom of human life, he becomes the joiner of Heaven and the Earth.

Finally, through ‘Mahabharata’, the ultimate war, Krishna safeguards the moral values and frees the earth from the immoral forces. Rain, too, one day, is scheduled to play this role during the ultimate distruction --  ‘Pralay’.

We worship Krishna.
We worship rain. 

In dreams

I saw her in dream today.

She looked more beautiful – than she used to be; much matured – for the first time; quite serious – a rare sight; and very hypocritical – to my disappointment. But this change, I guess, was natural. In fact, it had to be there. It added grace to her personality. This was what being matured with time.

After all, she was no more a free flying, college going, and loud laughing girl. She was no more a naïve who used to run after butterflies, fall for the chocolates, and speak with the soft toys. She was not the same crazy who used to collect useless things like chocolate wrappers, gift packs, and stickers. She was changed, of course, for the larger good. She was changed completely, even in my dreams.

And Why not, when the change being the only constant thing? We all change with time. She shoulders a responsibility now. She has a special status. She represents not one, but two families now. It may appear to me that she is wearing a mask; and behind this mask of status, responsibilities and representation, she must be the same innocent, free flying, round eyed girl. But, I may be wrong. She might have changed from within. If it is so, then where is the girl who used to talk endlessly, laugh openly and sing the nursery rhymes along with the kids sweetly? She must have lost. Yes. The girl in my dreams, even if being the same, was not the same. She was not the one for whom I used to write poems.

This thought took me ages back. Krishna was the same, in fact more graceful, with the royal ornaments glittering on his impressively developed persona. But, Radha, now a tired, middle-aged woman, failed to recognize him. A strong Krishna – who punched and kicked demonic Kansa to death; an educated Krishna – well-learned from Maharshi Sandeepani Ashram; the royal Krishna – a newly crowned administrator of Mathura was not her Krishna. Her Krishna was a little one with a delicate peacock feather tucked in his curly hair, a small kid adorn with forest flowers and running behind cows, a mischievous boy who used to run away with the curd and butter. The change in Krishna was for the good of the entire universe, but Radha, who loved him the most, rejected the Krishna coming from Mathura and she preferred to be with the Krishna of Gokul in her memoirs.

I realized that I have to dream again. Dream again to search the persona in my memoirs. After all, the Krishna I want to meet in dreams is lost. And the lost Krishna lives only in memoirs. 

She is ‘Swamini’; not ‘Dasi’ – my culture says

Activists turn quite aggressive while expressing their views on the national television; probably to make the optimum use of the rare opportunity to create impact and gain support from larger part of public opinion, of course for their noble cause. However, sometimes, while criticizing some social psychology or lacuna, they generalize the whole thing and target the innocent part of social make-up.

While holding the male-dominance in Indian society responsible for the domestic violence, senior social activist Kamla Bhasin, in sensationally popular ‘Satyamev Jayate’ said that in India, women call their husband as ‘Pati’ or ‘Swami’ which ultimately reflects a Master-servant relationship between the two. As women are considered as servants in this culture, they fall victims to the domestic violence, she said. She also mentioned the festivals like Rakshabandhan, in which sisters tie Rakhis to brothers and ask protection in return. Bhasin said, the brother may be younger or weaker to protect the sister; or sister may be elder and capable to protect her as well as her younger brother; but still, this Rakshabandhan practice is common in every Indian house.  This results in developing a superiority complex in boys and ultimately promotes domestic violence. Bhasin asked for equality; share in parent’s property and modern look out in males to change the scene. Her speech was studied, balanced and remedies she suggested appear quite effective.

Domestic violence, I think, is the psychological disorder. A real gentleman can never even think of attacking his wife or younger sister, or any other woman in the world for any reason. This is simply against the nature’s rules. Still, like many other psychological disorders, this domestic violence also has become a part of the human life. Domestic violence is common all over the world, irrespective of country, religion or culture. Unfortunately, In India, we relate this psychological problem with our culture, our traditions. In fact, these days, it is very easy to hold our ‘age-old’ culture, ‘outdated’ traditions, and ‘unrealistic’ mythological literature responsible for anything bad that is happening in the country. However, the problem is, indeed of ‘bad grooming’. Those who hold the Indian culture and traditions responsible for the social problems, should go back, and re-visit our ancient wisdom with a contemporary approach.

While calling husband as ‘Swami’, Indian culture calls wife as ‘Swamini’ and not as servant or ‘Dasi’. Another term is Ardhangini – a completing half of human life. Women already have an equal status in our way of life. The only thing is that many of us were never told by our parents about this side of our culture. Neither many of us bothered to go through our books before criticizing our culture, just because they are ‘old mythology’.  So, ‘Pati’ means ‘Master’ for us; and ‘Patni’ , instead of mistress, becomes servant.

Leave aside the great Vedic and Sanskrit literature, and let’s go to an illiterate village. In rural Maharashtra, they call wife as ‘Karbharin’ (the one who owns whole business). In middle class families, it is still a common practice that not only wives but husbands also use the respect-showing terms like ‘Aho’, ‘Mandali’, ‘Swari’ for each others. Respect for women is so integral part of Indian way of life that this culture, or the terms of ‘Swami’ or ‘Pati’ could never promote the male-dominance and domestic violence. Neither the festivals like Rakshabandhan are meant to promote the male-dominance.

It’s a festival of celebrating the great relation between brothers and sisters. In foreign countries, they celebrate each relation on a particular day. This practice is quite recent and gained popularity in no time. Here in India, we have the same since ages. And, unfortunately, we are making the same unpopular. Not because we hate our culture, or promote the Western culture, but, because, we don’t know about the real value of what is stored in our tradition and culture.  Promise of protection or giving each others valuable gifts may be the parts of Rakshabandhan, but celebration of the relationship is the heart of the festival.

However, as I told earlier, the activists, after closely observing a brutal reality for years in their career; find nothing wrong in holding the entire culture or a way of life responsible for one particular social problem. The same episode showed many educated women from high class houses being victims of domestic violence. Similarly, domestic violence is a problem worldwide, irrespective of country, culture and traditions. This means, it depends on the individual’s way of grooming.

In India, if we empower ourselves to understand the real meaning of our traditions, and culture; we will never hold our ancient wisdom responsible for the hideous violence, a mental disorder.

The Last of His class

The soul-soothing voice of Ustad Mehdi Hassan was silent since years, but Ghazal was alive in his breath. Like clouds bid farewell after a season, leaving a rejuvenating   impact for the rest of the year; the era of Ghazal Mehdi Hassan reigned kept enlivening the most delicate petal of the sensitive heart even after he left singing long back.

Today, the breath of Ghazal has stopped. The clouds have gone for ever. The ultimate drought has begun. The last mighty pillar of the platinum age of Ghazal has collapsed. The voice that walked with Ghazal through her journey from Daagh to Faraz; and from Mir to Shehzad ascended to the Almighty, from where the voice was sent to redefine the Ghazal.

The Ghazal is all about pain. And while walking with him throughout his lifetime, she dedicatedly kept Mehdi Hassan immersed in the pain. She took him to the highest of acceptance, and to the lowest of neglect.

At once, a boy doing ‘Mausiki’ in his wealthy ancestral house was made to wander homeless on Karachi streets. After taking many pains, Ghazal gave him an opportunity to regain his paradise. With Ghazal, he walked ahead, and with Ghazal, he arose to become the King of the same dominion.

But at once, the King was thrown behind a curtain of negligence; that too, in such a way that he would have died unnoticed someday. Mehdi Hassan kept walking with Ghazal even in these days.  He was destined to do so. After all, Ghazal was his breath. The new age Ghazal tried to save this voice -- the joiner of the ancient and the modern age, but it was too late.

Ghazal gone so engrossed in keeping him immersed in pains, that she forget to give Mehdi Hassan an opportunity to express this pain. Unfortunate was the Ghazal that Mehdi Hassan had to go silent for more than two decades of his lifetime. Otherwise, the man who successfully redefined the Ghazal would have been embellished her with countless of wonderful wonders.

The King inspired a good music, good literature, and good poetry throughout his active career. At one point of time, he strongly opposed the unnecessary simplification of the Urdu language aimed to attract the crowds. He selected classic verses and sung them in such a way that even a non-Urdu listener could get the flavor to its fullest. It was his mastery and power of expression that many complex verses full of Arabic and Farsi words became songs of day-to-day life.

Yes. Ghazal will now pay for being so cruel beloved to a person who remained to be her soulful lover for his lifetime. With Mehdi Hassan, Ghazal loses an age to History. She loses her traditional beauty to the modern make-up. The Ghazal loses the last exponent of the class of which the Ghazal is known for.

A song of Love...

It was really a touchy moment. Earlier, the tiny girl was upset, as the CD she brought from home was not working. One after another, her friends gave their dance performances, and even collected cash rewards from the organizers.

Innocent, she was waiting.

No. She was not at all crying. But for sure, she was upset. Sitting in the front row, she was waiting for something.

A handsome man who was hosting the show, made personal request to the orchestra to play the song on which the girl was about to dance. She came back on stage. But to her disappointment, the orchestra musicians were unaware of the song she asked them to play. “Well, Beta, we don’t know this song. We will play some other song for you,” the guitarist proposed. “No!,” she shook head. “Hey, let them play some other song. Don’t you want to dance?,” the host asked her. “Nah!” the girl denied. Then, the musicians asked her to sing a few lines of the song, but she was too small to explain them. Finally, they decided to send her back.

“Wait. I will sing a few lines of the song. Let her dance,” a woman from the audience came forward, slowly. Yes, slowly, because she was not well. Unable to go upstairs and accompany the girl on stage, she preferred to stand within the audience. The host handed over microphone to her.

The woman started singing. Talented musicians picked up the rhythm and music began. The girl started dancing. One, two, three, four, and five – the woman went on singing for the girl, and the host went on watching both of them, standstill. The girl really rocked the stage. Song ended. Audience gave spontaneous applause.

The girl was about to leave the stage, when the host, with his eyes full of tears, lifted her spontaneously up and hugged her tight. He came down the stage with the small girl to the woman, who was waiting for them in the audience. “Mummy! My dance was good na?!,” the girl exclaimed, and the ailing woman got the energy from somewhere to lift her and kiss her forehead.

The host, who was still in tears, took some moments to settle down and then announced that the girl was his daughter. “My wife is suffering from arthritis; otherwise, I would have asked her to sing a song in today’s function. She is trained singer. But, somehow, by God’s grace, or due to the faulty CD, I got the best gift. My daughter’s dance performance along with my wife’s song,” he was willing to speak much more, but couldn’t. “Thank you! Thank You! And Thank you all,” he addressed the two beautiful women in his life and lastly to the audiences.

Musicians started playing ‘Ek Pyar Ka Naghma Hai…Maujon Ki Ravani Hai; Zindagi Aur Kuchh Bhi Nahin, Teri Meri Kahani Hai…”

Growing up, being stone

I don’t cry. I control myself. I accept life as it comes. I do this and I do that. I am matured. Uttering all this means nothing but I am fooling myself.

Days, weeks, and months passed. Years will, too. Now I am more focused, they say, and I believe. Nowadays, I think more about my career. If I will work hard in office, and score good marks in university; I will get better opportunities. If I will get better opportunities, I will get better money. Better money means better life. Better life gives better life partner. And chain goes on. Nowadays, I think about this chain quite seriously. So, now I am a matured guy for them; and I believe.

Nowadays, I don’t get words easily. I have to search them for long. I have to write twice and thrice, still delete, and rewrite. Because I want to be technically correct. There must not be any mistake of grammar, diction or vocabulary in my text. Yes, now I call it ‘text’ or ‘content’. Because I don’t write my heart; I write my mind. But, they like my writing now. They feel it’s better than what I used to write earlier. Because it’s more correct, to the point, and matured, they say. I believe.

And nowadays, I receive text messages as forwards and many times delete them without reading. If sometimes, I forward them to some contacts, I don’t wait for any reply to come. I don’t feel bad at all if nobody replies. I take it very easy these days if someone reaches late, or even cancels appointment. Even I don’t bother much to cancel appointments giving reason that I was busy with some other work. I don’t remember I have ridden right from west point to east point of the city just to return a book or a paper to somebody in last so many days. I just don’t do such foolish things now. After all, I am matured, that’s what I believe.

I don’t write poems. They just don’t come to me now. No Ghazal brings tears to my eyes now. When I listen to them, I recall next verses aptly, and feel proud that I remember the great words of great poets. Sometimes, I sing along, making sure that nobody is listening, because if someone points out my mistake; I may lose my impression. Now, I read books helpful for my writing -topic or for my study purpose. I find reading a comics or fairy tale books utter nonsense. How can I spend my valuable time in roaming around the city for no reason, or say, to enjoy the evening breeze? How foolish it is for me now to reach somewhere say an hour earlier and wait for someone in scorching heat just to ensure that that person should not have to wait.

This is what being matured is. Spontaneous reactions start appearing foolish. Crying for something means a sign of weakness. Investment without outcome becomes useless. And moments once used to make your heart heavy become matter of casual discussions.

Sorry Shaktimaan!

“Would you like to talk to Mukesh Khanna? He is here only. I can manage a small informal discussion with you, only if you can come over here,” Chief Coordinator of Nagpur International Film Festival Sameer Nafde was too formal while asking me to meet the chief guest for festival’s concluding eve. In fact, I was planning for the same interaction since the day I learned that Mukesh Khanna was to grace the concluding function.

A schoolboy in me was eager to meet my beloved Shaktimaan. The performing artist in me was excited to meet the man who did best justice to the epic role of ‘Bhishma Pitamaha’ with an incredible depth of his voice and aptness of pronunciation. Journalist in me was keen to meet the actor gutsy enough to say straight ‘no’ to the offer given by the ‘Queen’ of entertainment television Ekta Kapoor, predicting perfectly that her glamour-play with ‘Mahabharat’ will be a biggest failure in her career. Creative writer in me was charged-up to meet the man who understands language like a littérateur and reads people like a poet. The Indian in me was feeling proud to meet the man who stood up firmly in support of nationalistic issues time to time. And human being in me was hurrying to meet the man who is learned as well as experienced; modern, still traditional; straight forward yet polite; and celebrity, but a common man. Well, Mukesh Khanna gave me much more than what I was expecting.

“There is nothing like a formula of success. But, search for novelty, and insistence for quality satisfies the creative person and this satisfaction itself pulls the audience towards you,” Mukesh Khanna speaks affluent Hindi with a resonating base in his voice. Without microphone placed around, one could hear him vividly amongst the ten other sounds. This must be the reason why producers selected no one but Mukesh Khanna as a voice of Lord Hanuman in the animation film. ‘Hanuman’ was amongst India’s first few animation attempts, quite new at that time for the industry. But, Mukesh Khanna has always preferred the innovations. Just for the love for newness, he became an integral part of ‘Mahabharat’, B R Chopra’s initial attempt to bring mythology on small screen. When this mythology became very common on TV, he tried hand in a completely untouched field. He created India’s first ever Super-hero - Shaktimaan. And for the same newness, he has just produced a Marathi movie in memory of legendary Dada Kondke.

Mukesh Khanna welcomes supports and tries new things as he believes that people love them. The only point he stresses upon is that one should not defy the traditional values while going for new things. “I was told by authorities of Balaji Telefilms that they are making a realistic Mahabharata, in which Kings would not wear crowns at the warfront, and royal women will not wear heavy ornaments and diamonds. I asked them not to play with the traditional concepts of mythology. Their show became a period fashion show as they used models, and not actors,” Khanna, who refused to play the role of King Shantanu in Balaji’s flop show ‘Kahani Hamare Mahabharat ki’, says. He still recalls the dialogues in B R Chopra’s ‘Mahabharata’ in which he played the role of his life – Bhishm Pitamaha. “Master writers, academic researchers and studied director are basic needs to ensure authenticity of the mythological series. I think, this is our heritage and we should not compromise with its authenticity just for the sake of cheap TRP,” he says while criticizing the current trend on various TV channels to stretch the role particular character unnecessarily just to cash in the TRP.

Basically, Khanna seems to be a man of principles. He cares a lot for his image, and a less for money. He never ever played a negative role even after repeated offers, just because he wants to nurture his positive image. He taught philosophy as Bhishma, taught values as Shaktimaan; and he just do not want to leave even a pinch of bad influence for his audience. “This may be a fault in me. As an actor, I must explore other facets of my personality, too. But, I just can’t do a complete negative role. I feel as if I am doing injustice to a good number of people, who admire me for my positive roles,” says a profound religious man; who neither drinks nor smokes. “My super-hero Shaktimaan was more like a value educator for the kids. It taught small but important values to one generation. If a small actor like me can leave such a huge influence, legends like Amitabh Bachchan and Shah Rukh Khan can bring revolutions. But, unfortunately, they act for the sake of acting only, and not for the bigger cause of social upliftment,” he is straight-forward enough to mention that SRK’s home production ‘Ra-One’ may be a huge project, but it has little values to serve.

Mukesh Khanna has a dream to make a film on ‘Shaktimaan’. He admits that he is facing resource crisis for it. One may suggest him to join active politics (he is already a BJP campaigner) and become MP to end this fund-crunch one for an all. He smiles. “BJP had offered me a ticket from Chandni Chowk seat even before Smruti Irani. I politely refused. Because I believe, an active politician should be available for his people for all the time,” once again speak his principles. “Actors join politics. They get elected because of their popularity. Once elected, they didn’t even visit their constituency for months and years together. This invites public wrath. I can’t afford it at any cost. Once I will feel that I can give ample time to people, I will go for elections. But not in near future,” he explains. Khanna mentions names like NTR and MGR, legendary actor-turn-politicians, who quit acting before joining politics. He also speaks of Rajinikanth, whose popularity is far more than any other politician, but, who is still away from electoral politics just because he has lots of things to do in acting. Mukesh Khanna, too, dreaming for many new things in his core field – acting.

But, time is different for him now, as there is no Shaktimaan revolving in the skies. Nowadays, he can move freely, even unnoticed many times; unlike some six years back when he used to be surrounded by hundreds of children and their parents wherever he used to go. However, a thinker, a lawyer and a student of English Literature; he finds no difference in being popular or not so popular. “I keep doing my work. This is how life goes on,” he smiles having a sip from a plastic cup of canteen tea. Shockingly, I realize that I had refused the same tea just a few minutes ago, thinking that it wouldn’t look good to have tea in a disposable cup before the celebrity. “That boy offered the tea with a recognizable smile. I couldn’t say no to him,” when Mukesh Khanna says, one realizes that Shaktimaan is still well within him.

“Sorry Shaktimaan!” the candid confession appears from a school kid in me.

Shiva: Living with all

Writing this exactly in the middle of the Shivaratri, sitting alone in my room and watching a rare photograph (in fact a snapshot of a painting) of Lord of the lords Shiva; is something really thrilling for me. Just got this photograph of the Mahadev somewhere on the internet; and with it, got a flood of different thoughts and feelings in my mind.

Shiva is the oldest worshipped deity in the world. Unborn and immortal, the most powerful destructor yet the savior, he is being worshipped everywhere by all, since infinity. Right from the tips of the Kailas where they say, he resides, to the southernmost corner of the land at Rameshwara, Shiva is worshipped everywhere in India. While he is the deity of Sadhus who forsake materialistic world in search of the spiritual or sometimes of the ghostly world; he is also being worshipped by the people who enjoy family life. From warrior Kings to Vaidik Brahmins, from rich to poor, from technocrats to tribals, all worship the Mahadeva. Shiva accepts delicate flowers from the artists as he is the master of all fine arts while on the other hand, Ghost catcher Tantricks offer him skulls and ashes and he accepts that with equal pleasure.

Shiva rules over ghosts and also rules over arts. He blesses the demons and also blesses the gods. He forsakes the worldly relations; still is a family man. He is destroyer and creator, too. He is hot tempered and naive too. He is fearful. He is lovable. He is ugly. He is attractive. He is mystic. He is simple. A brutal killer, a passionate Lover, a caring husband, a loving Father; still out of all this, Shiva is a Yogi who enjoys Samadhi for ages together. How many personalities reside without any conflict in this one person? I think this is what makes him a Lord of the lords.

In fact, all personalities of Shiva do reside in every human being, too. But, Shiva becomes the God of all Gods because he lets all the personalities groom and show. Like us, he never lets the injustice happen with any emotion of himself, he never suppresses any of his personalities. When he wants to win fear, he wanders through the crematoriums, and embellishes himself with hot ash of incinerated corpses. When he wants to dance, he forgets whole world and makes it a ‘Tandav’. When he wants to make love, he makes it with all passion for ages. When he wants to express grief, he lifts the dead body of his wife in hands and walks whole world screaming in her remembrance. When he is pleased with the penance, he gives anything and everything asked by the devotee. When he is angry, he beheads his own son. When he wants peace, he goes into Samadhi, and if someone tries to disturb, he burns him into ashes.

Instead of indulging into the futile exercise of winning the emotion, Shiva goes natural and lives with the emotion, giving the emotions the due respect they deserve. He stays with all and this is the way how he stays out of all. Like in Dvapar Yuga, Shrikrishna stays with all -- with thefts, with Rasa Leela, with running away from warfront, with sixteen thousand and one hundred and eight wives, -- and still he becomes 'Yogeshwar’ by staying out of all. Shiva, too, is a Yogeshwar.

Just think once about people like you and me. Countless of personalities and infinite emotions we murder day and night. How many of us kill artist in ourselves for money-making job? How many of us suppress our tears just to show that I am strong. How many of us don’t laugh and don’t dance on being happy; just to show that I am modest or mature. How many of us need liquor to be strong and speak truth. How many?

Well, no one, even other deities could not become Shiva because Shiva is the free soul. He is living ‘with’ all emotions and all differentiated personalities, without keeping them aside. What we can do is just a try to give justice to as many emotions, and as many different aspect of our own personality. I think, one can do this much, for sure.

Respect for Love

Most of us celebrate it as a day of love while others ridicule saying that love is for all the time, and why to restrict it for one day? With number of people in its support, and many in the opposition, Valentine’s Day, probably enjoys (?) its most controversial status when it comes to India.

Views may defer completely on why and how to celebrate Love on this one particular day; but, Valentine’s Day provides a fresh opportunity to write on the most beloved subject of the writers – Love! Right from a three-line haiku to an endless epic, everything has been, can be, is being, and will be weaved around this phenomenon since the ages and for the ages to come.

Well, the day faces criticism for sure; but the phenomenon called Love for which it is celebrated, never (ever) faces any controversy even if being so diversely understood and explained. There are countless, completely contradictory expressions, explanations and stories of love, still, it is accepted with all different views and expressions universally that Love is something best, one of its kind, and greatest!

So, if all understand that all believe in superiority of love, then why fights are still there?

This is what comes into my mind. Everyone agrees on the fact that no one opposes Love. No country, no religion, or no philosophy says that Love is bad. The opposition, the controversy, conflict and quarrel begins with the way to express love. Elders hate it when youngsters hug and kiss each others publically. Conservative people find it as an insult of Indian culture if Indians follow the foreign customs like Valentine’s Day. Simply, not Love, but the way of expressing it creates controversy. Then what is the way out?

Recently I was reading the Marathi translation of Dr S L Bhyrappa’s milestone novel ‘Parv’. It explains Epic Mahabharata with an Aanthropological point of view.  In Mahabharata, every human race (The Kshatriyas of different clans, Rakshasas, Nagas, Gandharvas, Devas and many more) has its own customs and traditions and it proudly maintains those. Other races, too, respect those traditions, even if they may be having complete contradictory practices in their respective clans.

This respect is the reason why many races, traditions, civilizations prospered in India making it a great land of unity in diversity. If we start respecting others’ traditions, without disrespecting our own; there will be ‘zero conflict’, on most of the issues, including Valentine’s Day.

Literature and life

Writing this piece from a well updated and swanky media centre established in the campus of Rajiv Gandhi Engineering College Chandrapur, which is all decked up to host the annual extravaganza of Marathi literature – The Akhil Bharatiya Marathi Sahitya Sammelan; is simply a great feeling. While roaming around, I can see reporters from various media groups – some new faces, and some very well known; taking notes, filing reports and sending emails. Being an insider of this media brigade gives a proud feeling. And this proud feeling doubles, when I realize that I am here to be a part of a literary event – one of the most prominent literary events of the modern age – The Sahitya Sammelan.

Millions and millions of books around on hundreds of stalls; and if one starts taking a round of this exhibition seriously, even three full days of the festival would fall short. One after another, the symposiums on various subjects and orations by literary greats would be the special attractions. Poetry summits, story telling events, and cultural events will add more colour. Literature is something out of the world phenomenon and traditionally it has influenced one and all. Literature has initiated revolutions – social and political, it has shown path to the change-makers; and it has done probably the greatest work of documentation of changing thought-process of human race. Still, the organizers have to call film stars and theatre actors to attract crowds at the festival. Well, whether this huge number of college-going youths was there to see them, or due to the compulsion (probably made by their respective colleges), is still an unanswered question though; because, film stars are no more crowd pullers these days. Does it mean that the youths were there for the love of literature? This probability also fades as the number of youths turned in to visit book exhibition was very less than those who participated in the rally. Then why they were there? As I said before, just because it was made mandatory to them.

The event began in the evening with eminent speakers stressing mostly on the thought-process of youths. They said it is dire need of today to let youths know about the literature and its importance. They took blame on themselves saying that the generation of seniors failed to produce literature attracting youths. But, is it really true? Is only the so called low quality of literature responsible for poor reader-connect?

What I think is what I experience. I used to read a lot during my school days. My parents made me read some trademark novels of Marathi (Mrutyunjay, Yugandhar, Rau, Chhava, Yayati, Swami, etc) when I was in high school. Then, as soon as I started going to college, I suddenly stopped reading. Even if being a student of English Literature, I preferred to refer the ready-made notes as reading original text was very much time-taking for me. But, I used to concentrate the lectures very carefully to note down anecdotes shared by my lecturers, who, most probably, must have read all the original texts.

If someone used to ask me, what I was reading at the moment, I used to answer – ‘Nothing. And why should I read?’ I used to think that with Internet, all information is there on my finger-tip and I should not waste my time in reading. Well, my memory, or say, anyone’s memory is not like computer’s, that remembers everything read. So, why to stress the memory and read when the ready-reference is available right besides you?

Well, well, well! I started my professional life and realized that I was a biggest fool. Human memory is not like computers, yes. And believe me; it is better than the computers’. When we read something good, it pleases us. Then we forget it and read something else. And to our own surprise, the thing forgotten re-appears in our mind suddenly, at some moment, catching us unaware! Our brain captures something interesting, stores it somewhere in an unknown zone and re-sends it to our main memory box whenever we need it. This exercise of brain is very interesting. Once, we start reading, we start realizing this amazing capability of our brain.

One book gives thousand reasons to think. Our brain starts interlinking the books, comparing the thoughts, and much more, which we don’t even realize. All this happens automatically. Hence, now, I again read, just to see the amazing qualities of brain.

Accessing Internet gives instant information, and that is very important for that particular moment. But, reading literature teaches life.

Ethics: Changing or losing?

Was busy in some important work these days! Yes! This was the only excuse I gave to all my friends who kept asking where I was all these days, and why I discontinued writing this blog.

Well, civic body elections are scheduled in my city and journalists are busy in ‘various’ types of work. As a local daily, my newspaper is also taking out special pull out pages, fondly called as advertorials, and frankly called as paid news. Being a part of news room, I am deployed to make pages, compose the data of ‘achievements’ and highlight it on the page using as many ways (tricks, in fact) I know. I am getting handsome amount for that, no doubt. In corporate, they use the term remuneration or compensation for the payment. I think, ‘compensation’ is the most suitable term for the money I am receiving to compose the paid news. Compensation for the compromise I am making with my journalistic ethics.

Well, I am very new. Who taught me about the ethics? The books and the universities! But, life outside the books is different. Does it become ethics just because it is quoted in the books? Or it become ethics because the great elders practiced it in their era? If change is the most constant phenomenon, ethics may also witness the change. So, is it the new form of ethics? Praising someone ‘in newspaper’ for money? Is it journalism or its mockery?

Good or bad, but the change is here and there is no doubt about it. The ‘Mahavishnu of Mount Road’, even if being a ‘Bhishma Pitamaha’ of the ethical journalism, is facing stings of arrows from the so called unethical ‘marketing’ tactics of the corporate news house. “They are not doing press. They are doing cheap marketing,” one of the visitors from Chennai, who was brought up with The Hindu, expressed while we were having discussion just after Times Group’s entry in Chennai. Almost three months have passed after this discussion, and now the television advertisement war has begun. To The Times of India’s offensive commercial, The Hindu retaliated with some exclusive punch lines doing justice with its age and dignity. The bottom-line of this war is the same. What is the real journalism? What is the real ethics? Are they changing?

If the journalism of courage or journalism that speaks straight-forward truth, being non-favouring and non-bias is the ethical journalism; then people, be ready to pay twenty-five rupees a day for a newspaper. In today’s era, media is no more neutral. It shouldn’t be – as it meant to stand for the right. But, being with the right every time, may invite troubles, the deadly troubles. And in today’s age of growth and money, how many of us could take up troubles?

The age, where even the pious work of imparting education has become money-making business; and where they charge class-wise money for the Darshan of the almighty in a gold-plated temple; how one could expect a small newspaper shouting only for the principles – for the ethics!

Exactly, here lies the root cause. Ethics are missing from every field, basically, from people. Principles are missing from our hearts. If most of us understand that the paid news is unethical; why politicians insist to publish it by paying even more money than the advertisement charges? (Just because they know that it influences mindsets of their voters). If someone says, cheap marketing tactic is not the Press; and all of us nod affirmatively to his statement; then why the newspaper doing the same is posing a threat to the ancient and ethical newspaper? (Because people are purchasing it to see nude photographs of women)

Ethics are as it is. But they have lost their position. Now, ethics exist in mouth, not in mind. Because, we – the people; allowed them to leave our minds.

We can change it, too. Mind it.

Realizing the domain

Enthusiasm and anxiety were struggling to overpower each others in his mind when my friend was leaving for Mumbai to follow his dream to achieve something unconventional in sound engineering, a field mostly untouched by people from Vidarbha, especially from my hometown Yavatmal.

I had been a part of many such platform farewell meets on railway station even before this one; and I am sure to attend many more such in future, as people will continue to leave hometowns in search of better educational and professional opportunities. But, this farewell meeting was different. My friend was leaving neither for pursuing higher education in engineering or medicines, nor to join any high paying job in a multi national firm. He was leaving in search of himself, in an entirely unknown scenario.

“I will learn by myself. There are people working in this field. Working with them will be learning itself,” he was saying with confidence in voice and uncertainty in eyes.

Well, my friend, just close these ‘eyes with uncertainty’ and just jump out! The parachute of confidence will land you safe at the dream destination. At least you realize that this is the only thing which you want to do in your life. You are not searching yourself in the scrap of all career options – banks, BPOs, factories, and administrative examinations – but, you know your domain. Now search will become easy,

As his train departed, I remembered my time. I was leaving for comparatively known field, the journalism. But, when I joined, I realized how ignorant I was. Since then, I am learning and will keep on learning for all the time. But, at least, I know, what I want to learn.

Yes; something unconventional, creative, and what pleases me a lot! This is what I am doing. When they compare how less I am earning than my engineer friends, and how bigger name would I have made if I would have tried some service commission examinations, I just smile at them. This smile comes from within. Oh come on! I am enjoying each and every moment – good and bad; each and every experience – happy and sad; and each every reaction – bouquets and brickbats; with equal enthusiasm. What else one expects? I know my domain and am searching myself in it. After all, just like the sky, success, too, is the same and is there for everyone, fields no bar.

Generally, we run behind the thing which we don’t have and always underestimate what we have with us. My colleague who attended Indian Science Congress was lamenting that India lacks far behind China and other countries in scientific research. India spends only 0.9 per cent of the GDP on science. Some other colleague added that we lack on army front from America and navy front from Russia. Someone said we are far behind in industrialization and construction fields than Japan. We are in Stone Age of hardware development as compared to Koria and Malaysia. On tourism front, we lack ages behind Singaore and Canada. Finally, the discussion ends on the universal thought that India is eaten up by corruption and is the worst place in the world to live for progressive minded people.

Criticizing the development or more precisely non-development of science, industries, buildings, bridges, and finally – money – in India comes as an outcome of the ignorance of our domain. The most ancient civilization, India is known for what? It is not industrialization, or building high rises or developing science gadgets; but it is spirituality.

The land has given Buddha to China and Japan. It has taught Jesus Christ the basics of Christianity during 12 years of his stay in Indus. It has inspired Prophet Mohammad to formulate Islamic rules and regulations. It has given all 24 Teerthankars of Jainism to the world. It has given the brave hearts Sikhs right from Guru Nanak Dev Ji. It has given philosophy and Darshans to the world. It has given the mother of all religions and beliefs, the greatest way of living life – The Hinduism.

India is known for the thought it gives to live the life without being materialistic. Because, science or industries or money or gadgets have limits; and spirituality is limitless. India leads the world on the front which no one feels has any importance during the days of money, and everyone feels as the most important during the days of death.

Being Indians, we should understand in which field exactly we are leading. We can borrow technology from all over the world, but not the thought. While listening ourselves criticizing her on the technological, and money making fronts, Mother India must be passing the smile from within, the smile I can relate with.

Feeling Tendulkar

It was unbelievable for me when my Facebook status update informing about my first semester result received spontaneous replies from more than 50 online friends. Moreover, for whole day, I was busy in receiving congratulations from office colleagues, seniors, friends, classmates, teachers, HoD; even the office clerk, too, congratulated me. Needless to say, my family members were all in joyous mood. Initially, each one asked for the party, and later, everyone wished me to continue achieving similar success in remaining three semesters, too.

With one small success, the expectation for three more and even bigger successes got created. Directly or indirectly, a new responsibility of maintaining the university topper position automatically came to me, and I accepted it as a proud crown. This achievement made me realize that there are many people around me who are watching me silently. They observe me, think about me and very rarely – comment too. This feeling is even pleasant than being a topper.

Now the person, who wants to repeat the first semester success for remaining three semesters, more desperately than any other person around, is myself. How beautiful was it to receive message after message of congratulations that day! I don’t want to miss it in any semester ahead. Yes, my success is very small, but it inspired me to shoulder bigger responsibility. And, I accepted it as if I was waiting for it. Success serves responsibility and makes it look easier to shoulder.

Why only success? Failure, too, serves a responsibility to overpower and emerge. On every positive and negative turn, life only serves a new responsibility. It’s like completing tasks in TV game. Clearing one level takes you to another to face bigger challenges, tougher obstacles.

Bigger success gives bigger responsibility while biggest success gives biggest one!

Every time when he walks out in the middle with his heavy bat, he looks at the sky. In fact the sky itself stares at master blaster. The sky is full of expectations. These expectations come from those who love him, follow him, and worship him.  Whenever he scores a milestone, their faith strengthens. If he fails, they disappoint. This is the biggest success serving biggest responsibility. Sachin Tendulkar shoulders it.

 Many Greats say, Tendulkar knows how to stay away from this pressure of expectations, others defer saying that he falls prey to this pressure. Is it possible to stay completely away from what others are feeling, thinking, and talking about you?

I don’t think so. And why should we keep away from it? After all, living with others is living for others. This is what our culture teaches. Let me take every compliment and every congratulation comment as a new responsibility and every success and failure as an entry into new level of this game.

Tendulkar must have been doing this only all these years while looking straight into the sky of expectations.

Deeply rooted

She is going. After staying with us for almost three and a half years, the girl is getting married now. She will leave our office to start new life. Well, while I am really happy for her that she is getting married, I am a bit anxious too, as she will not be with us in the office anymore.

In fact, her leaving is not at all shocking. Nothing out of the world is happening. It was like pre-decided that after getting married, the girl was to leave the office. Many a times, it was me, who used to ask her when she was going to get married? We all colleagues used to discuss each others’ marriages for long time after our day’s work. At that time, I never even imagined that I will feel so bad when she will leave, really. Attachment catches us unaware.

On the other hand, I know that this feeling is momentary. Just within a week or two, we all will learn managing without her. For the first few days, or weeks, she will call or message quite regularly. Then messages, too, would become occasional. Then one or two in a year, and finally, they will stop. I know, years after, if we will meet each others suddenly some day, we will just speak formally and would feel happy for each others. Detachment, too, catches us unaware.

She was smiling. She was looking at everything around in the office, her desk, her computer, her chair and all. She was giving chocolates to everyone and was saying good bye. A huge enthusiasm about coming days was hiding the small but earnest feeling of grief in her mind. How girls could manage all this? They are wonderful.

For one guy to whom she loves, she is leaving her family, parents, her friends, her city, her job, her career, and may be so many of her routine habits; even her name. She is ready to restart for him and she will restart; that too, willingly. In India, we Brahmins proudly call ourselves ‘Dvij’ (who takes two births) as we believe that we get another birth after ‘Maunj’ (thread ceremony). However, real ‘Dvij’ are the girls, who have to take rebirth after marriage. I imagined myself at her position just for a few seconds, and I found myself in tears.

No! I can’t leave my world so easily, with smile on my face. I can’t hide my disappointment so effortlessly, howsoever bright may be the future. Even today, I had to struggle a lot to hide my disappointment of losing company of her -- a friend, a long time associate. Oh God, what would happen, if I have to leave everything like she is doing?! I started hating myself, and entire male fraternity.

How reluctant we males are? We find some girl beautiful, and charming and brilliant and suitable and we propose her. We feel proud if we propose her for marriage, and not for affair. We feel bad, if she denies and we feel like her masters if she accepts. We take this entire transformation so casually, without having a single thought on what the girl must be thinking of. Boys are born bastards.

Attachment and detachment caught me unaware, but when this realization caught me, it left me in tears for hours together.