Cremation at Ganga: A Grim Situation

This is to share my experiences about the sad affairs on the banks of the river Ganga in Patna. The holy river is missing from the famous Bans Ghat and Buddha Ghats of Patna and has moved 7 to 8 kms away from the Ashok Rajpath.

It has changed its course over the years and the route on which once the Mahendru Ghat-Pahlezaghat-Hajipur passenger ships (pani-jahaj) of Bachcha Babu use to sail has turned into farm lands as the river route on which ferry service operated is now dry. Today no one would believe the "Pani Jahaj" which carried even four wheelers between Patna and Pahleza was frequently stranded mid-way in the Ganga several times .

The then union industries minister George Fernandes, the then Chief Minister Karpoori Thakur and several ministers used to visit North Bihar areas only on the Pani Jahaj as that was the only medium which connected North Bihar to the other parts of the state.

The worst sufferers of the shifting away of the Ganga are the friends and relatives of the "dead" whose bodies are taken for cremation to the banks of the Ganga.

Few would believe that the first President Dr Rajendra Prasad or the dreamer of Total Revolution Jayaprakash Narayan were cremated at the famous Bans Ghat which was the most favourite spot for the thousands of worshippers of the Sun God during the Chhat festival.

The government, the Patna Municipal Corporation, in particular has remained indifferent . The platform on which Rajendra babu was cremated has become a leisure spot for gamblers and boozers at Rajendra Park near Budha Ghat. Drunken people create brawl with the mourners. There is no water tap on the banks of the Ganga. The Sulabh operated hand-pump is also dry on the bank of the Ganga.

There are incidents of robbery of the pall-bearers going and returning from crematorium, 7 to 8 kms away from Patna, as they have to pass through the farms of local villagers. Robberies take place even in the day hours between Bans Ghat and the crematorium on the bank of the Ganga.

There is no management by the government or civic authorities. The mourners are cheated, fleeced and robbed by different groups of people - right from the purchase of woods to the final rites - permission from the Dom Rajas. They demand and charge hefty amounts from the mourners. Unlike the crematorium at Buxar or Benaras, there is no arrangement by the local civic bodies.

The locals engage professional pall bearers who charge for chanting the last journey mantras - Ram Naam Satya Hai - from friends and relatives of the dead. They are found to be in hurry as they have to get engaged with another round of the "last journey".

BJP, the 'Hindu party' as it prides itself in being called, is one of the coalition partner in the state government and yet it has turned a blind eye to a place where all the Hindus finally rest.

Why a Journalist? but then Why not one.

"Change of profession is on the cards. Honeymoon is over, marriage on the verge of collapsing". No, I am not typing a comment on the policy of the Left but now since i have brought them into the picture then i would like to say i wish they would have 'left' politics forever.

This post is about me and its about how genuinely i am working on building a new dream, a dream that talks about me earning big fat pay cheques and running ( just for the hack of writing) an MNC.

Three months ago i was 'Soulfully' into journalism. Even now i am a journalist, coz i haven't resigned from my organization and more importantly i do contribute when and where my service is solicited,though that happens rarely. But now the dream has broken and the reality has dawned. One of my dear friend AJ when confronted with this change of plans from a journalist to a manager was as bemused as Dubya is whenever he is publicly speaking.

"Manager! what about the Journo thing? How about a Lawyer? or how about being into a "Seasonal profession"; that way you can change jobs with the onset of every new season. I am sure 3 months from now you will say " AJ i am trying my hands in 'politics', the country needs me , for the Congress will find it difficult to counter the Leftist and the Rightist without me ".

When I,We were still protected by the non-existent boundaries and barb wires of NLIU at that time money was the last thing on mind. Call it the 'exuberance of a youth who has got a shot of 'Camu'ka'.

We were more leaning towards living a comfortable life, supported by the minimum of basic amenities . For us a 'secluded place to lie in Kerwa' was more valuable than a penthouse in a metro.

Now when i look back into those time spent , i think those were innocent thoughts, thought that were not yet touched by the materialism.

No, it was not too naive of us to think in this aesthetic way. In those days also we were aware of the hardships, the practical aspects of life, but we were not able to see the 'bigger picture'. Occasionally we did see the picture, but that was mostly under the influence of the Kingfishers and the Haywards, and as the 'high' decreased , practicality would also take a leave.

Life those days was 'predictably unpredictable' but now it has become more of 'predictable', devoid of any fun and adventure; philosophically and physically.

Coming back to the professional life , i would say that journalism has so many things lacking. Professionalism is one thing that matters in the long run in any profession..but sadly it has still not evolved in media. Perhaps the most important issue is financial security, and the less i dwell on this issue the better.

But then acting like a seasoned politician i can't switch off before praising an issue which i had just criticised (Hope Sonia Gandhi or Rajnath Singh is a regular reader of my blog!).

Overall it was been an enriching experience, both personally and professionally. Met many a people from the different spheres of life, went through many a dramas and enjoyed the power and prestige of a being a journalist which are second to none.

"Educationally a lawyer, professionally a Journalist..."hopefully an administrator one day". That sums the whole curve of the "materialistic life' i have lived and will live.

I have blogged after a long while (2 -1/2 months). I was pleasantly surprise to see that i too have a section of dedicated readers, who reminded me again and again that i have a blog to update...Thanx guys!..

Rain

The small water droplet falls from the grey sky
A lone streetlight illuminates the tiny bead

The highest leaves of the tallest tree
Spreads its arms for its wet friends

My mind wanders from one place to another;
Past becomes the present, and the future becomes so beautiful

gushing of kerwa
silence of upper lake
wet streets of VIP road
drenched couples
roads to college of excellence
ups and downs of Kaliyasot
trance of yesteryears so enthralling

Smell of the thirsty earth
Sound of a infant lightning
Coolness of the subtle breeze
same as they were when I first felt them years ago

past imprints become a traveling friend
with them I sail through the melodramatic mood
it rains...

Breeze

"Her hair like a pampered child
like a craving lover
was swaying on her face
touching her cheek, feeling the breeze
resting on her ears"




II

The Veiled purdah surrounded
the watery eyes
feelings found it hard to break away from the religious shackles

She climbed into the waiting metro
and was never seen again

The march of the 'Blue' Elephant

Fact is stranger than fiction and sometimes it defies all odd. And when we talk about the recent UP election it could not get stranger. Defying all calculations, mis-calculations, opinion polls and expert views Mayawatiâs elephant crushed the cycle, the Lotus and pushed the cycle off the road and for the first time in 16 years was able to make a single party government in the eccentric politics of Uttar Pradesh.

Not long ago it was being said that Bahujan Samajwadi party will never be able to come out of its own shadow. The untimely death of its founder and mentor Kanshi Ram nearly sealed the fate of BSP as the political pundits thought.

The importance of strengthening the district and town level organization and ground political structure was evident, as BSP san any charismatic leader and a crowd puller managed to outweigh Amitabh Bachhan, the two Jaya's and even the Gandhi siblings and comfortably romped home.

A BJP media functionary who was actively involved in UP elections said that the BJP never expected Mayawati to give so much impetus in the form of tickets to Brahmins and to the Upper caste and not even in their wildest dream did they saw the Brahmins and the Thakurs joining BSPs.

Perhaps BJPs thinking is justified because not long ago Mayawati would begin her rally with the slogan "Tilak, Tarazu aur Talwar, inko maro jutey char" (Brahmin, businessmen and the upper caste deserve a severe lambasting.) This time Mayawati like a seasoned politician should, ignored the caste equation and inclination towards the backward caste and walked into the CM house flanked by three of her most trusted lieutenants who were a Brahmin, a Thakur and a Muslim.

The OBCs and the SCs voters were always with BSP and by pulling section of upper castes with her, Mayawati got the thrust that pushed her towards the CM chair; this is the fourth time she will be assuming this responsibility. Although people close to the BSP supremo said that even Mayawati was not expecting this kind of emphatic victory.

The common result that was being forecasted in the political corridors of Uttar Pradesh was a strong possibility of a hung assembly which fortunately did not happen.

In her first post CM press conference, Mayawati donning her lucky Pink colored suit thanked the upper caste and the Brahmins and quite unlike the old Behanji also thanked the Media which was quite surprising considering her reluctance towards the media.

She also in absolute straight words advocated reservation for the weaker sections of the Upper caste. Only Mayawati knows how serious she is about providing reservations to the weaker sections of the upper caste, but one thing is sure that this statement of hers has opened another interesting chapter in the already controversial topic of reservations.

The mother of all assembly elections, the UP election is a very important, prestigious event for the political parties. Not surprising if one considers the fact that Uttar Pradesh assembly has the largest number of assembly seats of 403. After the UP election result, Mayawati says will assumes even more importance on who will the next President of India.

This time Rahul Gandhi, the would be future PM of India as projected by Congress was seen as the main protagonist who would decide on which side the balance will tilt. In the previous UP elections, Mandal, Kamandal and Ayodhya used to be the decisive factor. This time it was Rahul.

The young MP was showered lavish love in the form of huge crowd that would converge at his election rallies, but success still eluded the young Gandhi as the huge crowd refused to transform into votes. Neither Priyanka nor his mother Sonia Gandhi or for that matter even Lalu yadav were able to help Rahul in his quest for an improbable miracle.

Rahul Gandhi who was de-facto in charge of Uttar Pradesh Congress strategy had selected 50% of the candidates for the election and yet Congress lost. Perhaps the MP from Amethi needs to learn more of Indian ground politics which cannot be learnt by the so called 'whirlwind tours'.

BJP too did not fare well. Rajnath Singh who had everything to lose and to gain in UP tried to play safe by allotting tickets to the incumbent members, a move which was resented by Kalyan Singh.

Lack of coordination between the leaders at the Centre and the State, and the yet again clash in egos of Advani and Atal proved too much for the already weak Uttar Pradesh BJP. The infamous CD which nearly threatened BJPs existence as a political party did more harm than good for the saffron party and increased the already huge divide between the minorities and BJP.

The BJP was simply not able to decide that what was more important, Ayodhya, raising voice against minority appeasement or the OBC factor. As a result it was not able to concentrate on any of the issues on which it could have gained some advantage from its rivals. Its not a deep secret that the BJP needs a serious over hauling and infusion of young blood in the form of bringing leaders like Modi onto the national screen but the parochial band is still playing on.

The party may lose couple of years in the restructuring but couple of years is a better option than a complete oblivion.

Mulayam Singh Yadav can come out with any number of excuse and reasons yet it needs to accept that it was lawlessness and lack of visible development which resulted in loss of confidence and faith on the part of the voters .

Nithari was one episode which has hurt Mulayam more than he ever contemplated. The apathy on the part of the administration and the insensitiveness shown by Mulayam himself did not go down well with the mass and it showed in the form of the below par performance of Samajwadi party.

Now it remains to be seen that how Mayawati governs the state which is facing a serious power crunch, and a pathetic state of lawlessness. Mulayam had a powerful friend circle in the likes of Anil Ambani, Subroto Roy and party general secretary Amar singh who were capable of fishing him out of any financial crisis. This is something that Maywati does not have.

Will Mayawati go for settling political vendetta or focuses on BSP (Bijli, Sadak ,Pani) and make Uttar Pradesh a 'Uttam Pradesh" is something which only time will tell. Fingures are crossed and lets not forget that an election is never far in UP.

The call of the 'materialistic' life

Its not that I am ill, nor I am engrossed in the world cup. Similarly none of my so called 'girlfriends' have deserted me which would have plunged me into depression. Its just that I am right now busy in playing my part in increasing India's GDP and to a smaller extent increasing my incomes too.

Since I have started working I have started missing those old good days when there was nothing to do ; just blog and just orkut...and so many 'just'!

I have always believed that men always thinks that the grass is greener on the other side or in my case it WAS greener. Now my belief has just got stroger.

Saw a very nice movie on STARONE yesterday 'The Chosen one'. (had that bout of 'nostalgia' again!!) Also would say that if u can, then go through "Like the flowing River" by Paulo Cohelo, in all probablity its his best work. I have only read a part of it and it has left a lasting impression on my heart as a good book should.

Have to go.. someones calling.

Love so deep

,

My love for you can never die

You have been there always with me
Right through the days and the nights of moon gazing

I always fear what if my love is unfulfilled
Leaving me condemned to live even after death

I have remembered you whenever I can
Still the memory of you never fades

The pain that has been always there,
the rain that has always been there
both have now lost their feel, like the tide loses its.

Now I realize that we were never meant to meet
But we met, and you left, leaving me behind

The sorrows, the emptiness have given a new meaning to ‘life’
For love, like your memories has always been a friend of mine

How I always feel that what if this was a movie
We depart to meet again, never to part again

Sorrows and pains like bliss and happiness
Are so antonymous yet so synonymous

The Red menace

In the biggest ever Naxalite related violence in the history of Chhattisgarh more than 60 security personnel were killed when a large group of heavily armed Maoists attacked a security camp at Rani Vodli in Bijapur police district of Bastar, bordering Andhra Pradesh and Orissa. Though the state has witnessed many such attacks in the past, the present one brought the heaviest causalities.

The Naxalites, who were lying low for the past few months, have once again proved the government wrong, as the Raman Singh led BJP government, all this while was claiming that the naxalites were forced to retreat due to the tight security arrangements and the popular success of the anti-Maoist-Salva Judum campaign. Apparently the retreat was more of a tactical step taken so as to give shape to the present carefully planned, dare-devilish attack.

The state government as well as the central government, which have been working jointly in the fight against the naxal threat, have again been found wanting as the recent attack proved. The highly publicized Salva-Judum campaign, which was launched by the state government to curb the naxal spread, has also proved to be a damp squib with human rights organization and media slamming the movement as a forced measure rather then a voluntary action by the villagers and tribals of the naxal affected areas.

Reports from Bijapur suggest the death of 65 security personnel and injuries to 16. The Maoists have killed about 700 people in the last two years in Bastar, but the Thursday pre-dawn attack on the security camp was the worst of all the crimes committed by the Naxalites as they raided the barracks, indiscriminately killed the sleeping security people, looted their arms and landmined the whole area before “retreating” back to the dense forests.

In the past too, they had killed 26 CRPF jawans in the same area. They had also killed 58 pro-Salva Judum volunteers returning from a Anti-Maoist rally, hacked a local pro-salva judum congress leader to death, blasted a railway station and invaded several relief camps killing the peace movement activists and their families which had forced the government to shift over 50000 people in the relief camps in their own homeland, which according to reports has been the largest exodus of people since independence.

The Rani Vodli incident had come within a week of the killing of Jharkhand Mukti Morcha member of Lok Sabha,Sunil Mahto near Chaibasa in Jharkhand, which was also the handiwork of the naxals. Earlier way back in 2000 the Maoists had killed the then transport minister of Madhya Pradesh, Likhiram Kanware, similarly they had attacked the then chief minister of Andhra Pradesh,Chandrababu Naidu in Tirupathi and later in 2006 stormed the Jehanabad jail in Bihar.

The series of attacks in Bijapur’s Farsegarh and Kotru blocks is definitely the result of lack of development activities in the remote areas even now. Corruption is rampant in the villages, the officials are finding it difficult to enter the villages and the contractors have literally surrendered themselves to the will of the Maoists.

The BJP led government had enacted the Chhattisgarh special Public security Act last year making strong provisions for detention of even those supporting the Maoists, banning the publicizing of Maoist related activities and or glorification of violent actions through audio or video presentations or photographs. The government had also made a special provision of Rs. five crores for the anti-Maoists campaign –Salva Judum in the annual budget last year. But sadly despite these measures there has been little or no headway in the states’s fight against the naxals.

The anti-naxal movement is meeting up with resistance from the Maoists frequently and the Rani Vodli attack is yet another incident in these series. The ritual of the chief minister calling upon the union home minister, demanding more forces and helicopters was repeated this time too.The approach of both the Centre and state governments on the increasing Maoists violence is very ‘weak’ so to say.

The Naxalites are working on the idea to create a corridor from Pashupathi Nath to Tirupathi (Nepal to Andhra Pradesh). The recent development in Nepal where the maoist are already sharing power in Kathmandu points towards the much larger objective that they are following which is also evident from their literatures.

When Maoists were digging up wells, constructing tanks and opening primary schools in Bastar, the state administration’s teachers, engineers were staying in the district headquarters. As a result of which the Maoist have gained support in most deep areas of Chhattisgarh

During Raman Singh’s weeklong tour to the villagers by helicopter, he was told about the non-availability of teachers, doctors and engineers in the blocks. The engineers of Wadrafnagar, a sub-divisional town in Surguja, prefer to operate from Ambikapur, the district headquarters,80 kms away from their posting giving enough space for the Maoists and their sympathizers , this perhaps sums the whole problem with the naxal infested state.

Youth- The Hedonic; the Altruist

Youth’s the season made for joys;
To fall in love is its only duty—John Gay


Being a youth myself, it’s a very difficult task to comment on my peer group, least I give the impression that I am promoting sycophancy. But it is a great feeling to be called a youth. It’s a time when one can indulge in all kinds of troubles, ideas, yet come out unscratched. To quote Benjamin Disraeli, the great statesman; Youth is a blunder; manhood a struggle and old age a Regret. So we can safely assume that even great statesman of yesteryears have accepted that the youths are prone to commit mistakes, and they are not to be blamed, because it’s the age which forces the youths to throw all caution to the wind.

Sania Mirza too is a member of my clan, the youth clan. So is Dhoni, Nagesh Kuknoor, Jyotiraditya Scindia, Kiran Desai, etc. The whole country specially the first person of our country, the ever adorable Kalam Chacha, has bestowed so much faith, responsibility and hope in us that sometimes we can’t help but think that we are just like Atlas who according to legends was punished by Zeus and ordered to stand forever holding the heavens and earth on his shoulders. We are the bearer of our country, just like Atlas was.

It’s obvious that we are flattered and honored, but as in the words of Uncle Ben (remember Spiderman) ‘With great power comes great responsibility’. Our elders are watching us with keen eyes, so are our would be successors, the next lot of the clan. The only difference between the two perspectives is that while the elders have completed their journey, the juniors’ are yet to start theirs. So that leaves “Us’ in motion.

It’s the youth that drives the country, and I can’t agree more. The Karizmas, the CBZs and the SUVs aren’t meant for those who have passed their prime. It’s the youth that drives the economy bringing in foreign currency worth millions through remittance; and its the youths who are responsible for the boom in the higher education sector, a boom which has resulted in virtually every part of the country boasting of a management, engineering or a hotel management college or a university.

Our next door dragon, sometimes also called China is way ahead of us in all aspects, save one. The numbers of youths are less in China as compared to India. It’s so nice to see that the Chings and the Pings the Maos and the Taos haven’t yet found any answer to the Chantus and Bantus, and the Bunties. (Have to keep in mind the 33% reservation for women)

Still questions are raised, like why are we still shy while exercising our Adult franchise? Why there weren’t more Rajeev Goswami’s during the recent anti-reservation campaign? or why are we still promoting Brain Drain? I have a list of ‘Whys’ which were mailed to me by someone from the elder clan, and to be honest, I haven’t been able to figure out the answers to any of those whys yet. Why? I don’t know.

Similarly one of the psychologist of those good old days met me on way to a temple and expressed her concern that the age old philosophies like falling in love, age-old friendship (Jai-Veeru kind), respecting religion etc, were vanishing from the vocabulary of today’s youth. Her concern became more grave when I told her all those notions were still there, but they have been modified and replaced by a more convenient and suitable One night stand, Internet friendship or E-pal’ism and honoring religion by way of Godhras.

Another of my ‘Youth brothers’ who call themselves the Boyzone, once famously said that ‘Words are all I have to take your heart away’. In the medieval time, suitors were more towards singing poems which would run into hundreds of pages. Poems which incorporated in themselves sorrows of unfathomable proportion, and which were more than enough to make their ladylove fall for them head over heel.

When our elders say that today’s youths have forgotten their golden age old tradition, I give them the example of Boyzone. Fifty years ago words were used to romanticize and express feelings and now also words are used. The tradition still goes on.

Earlier they use to have Akashwanis, now we have 94.3. Similarly earlier it was Tagore’s Geetanjali, now we have Chetan’s 5.1 someone. So, we see that nothing has changed; a typical Youth still suffer from a ‘Je ne sais quoi’ which in itself is difficult to describe and to comprehend.

When emergency was imposed in India way back in 1977, it was the youths who forced Ms.Gandhi to take back the emergency. Though it’s a different matter that it was the youths in the first place along with another young leader JP, who forced Ms.Gandhi to impose the emergency. Similarly the Youth For equality (YFE), gave a new meaning to youth power when they repeatedly though not very successfully raised their voice against Arjun Singh against the second wave of Mandalization. This was a time when students and youth from all the strata of the society came together and declared in one voice that they won’t go down without a fight. Whenever we have been given a larger social objective, we have rallied around each other, to fight and to say to the whole world that we are the young bloods and we deny to bow down to the atrocities and to the unjust.

So it seems that the youths are not as bad as they are sometimes projected to be (Pun intended). Everyone has the freedom to fall in love, flaunt the N series, booze and drive, practice infidelity. Everyone except the youth!

It Rained somewhere

In the mist of love that surrounds me
Like dews her memory drenches me
Far away in the land of love
I see us walking hand in hand

As the night grows darker, stars brighter
I see myself as the moon so bright, yet so dark
With so many stars, yet so alone
Her memories like the black sky engulfs me
And like the air, my eyes are soaked


(2)

So many emotions fluttering in my heart,
causing grief and sorrow of unfathomable proportion
Feelings are born and they die,
leaving me behind to bear so much pain

Ironically human

Being a human can be very difficult sometimes. It’s very tiring and a complex thing; being human. Emotions of such proportions, each greater, distinctively different and deeper than the other, are constantly making their presence felt to us. Each one is asking for a greater autonomy, a homeland, a separate and special status. But as a seasoned politician our mind is, along with his coalition partner ‘heart’, they both manage to pacify each and every demand of these ‘emotions’, each one is promised a better deal and a better outlet.

Watching a beggar, with twisted arms, no legs, and a face that is the synonym of grief, can rake up many a different emotions and feelings in our mind. Sometimes pity, sometimes grief along with compassion and sometimes hatred towards the society and the state comes up in our mind. Sometimes we praise the lord, sometime we curse him. Our hatred and our respect and love, thanks to our faith are directed at someone, something who only “god knows” is how many light years away from us, sitting in some place which people call the ‘heaven’. Still we believe that our messages will be received, and we hope that they are not treated as ‘spam’. Perhaps they are received, and replied back, along with the CC and BCC. If it isnt then I don’t find any other reason why so many people congregate at the Kumbhs, and why so many people want to go to Mecca and perform Haj.

Coming back to the human mind in general and human emotions in particular, a Human brain mind is the most complex of all the minds the god has ever created, and to encompass in that a thing as complex and mind boggling as “emotions and feelings” is not a small feat.

Of all the emotions, it’s ‘love’ and ‘hate’ that stands out. A person loves someone so much that he would readily give his life for that person and on the other extreme someone hates a person so much that he won’t even blink his eyes when given the chance to take his enemy’s life.

Emotions and feelings are omnipresent in our life and in our mind. Human owe its birth to a series of ‘emotional actions and events’, not going into the biological details, emotions are the starting point of which the end result is the reproduction of a progeny. Then as one gets older, more emotions based relationship like sibling hood, friendship etc starts taking shape. We express our emotions by way of making friends, expressing love, running a shelter home for the animals or giving alms at the Red-light.

Animals sadly are de-voided of the vast range of emotions like human posses. That is why when we see an animal risking its own life for its offspring’s, or a dog showing love for its owner, or a dog and a cat cohabiting together peacefully, we are greatly bemused. A dog regularly visits the spot he was born, and a pigeon lives all his life at the same place where he first opened its eyes. These are purest form of emotions, devoid of any artificial taught feelings.

People in news or who made news are those who have, had either excess or very less of emotions.Then there are the Gandhi's, who have emotions for everyone, except for their own self and then there are the Saddam Hussein’s and the Dubyas who in a polite and civilized term can be called as “individualistic, barbaric and non-humane”. It’s the emotions that drive people to do what we call ‘crazy things’.

Camu, Marx, Shakespeare, Alexander all felt a surge of emotions at a point of time in their life and then they let out their emotions by way of doing what they did. Same was the case with Mandela and Gandhi. Emotions moved them, they “moved”, and with them the whole world moved.

When we read, study poems and verses, or watch a movie, we subconsciously are getting affected by what ever we are sensing by way of reading and watching. Our mind silently is capturing and grasping the emotional quotient that we are deducing. Similarly our mind, a canvass captures all the emotions like colors and we have ‘A Beautiful Mind”.

Sometimes we are so helpless and hopeless against our emotions (mostly when we have encountered the ‘Love Emotion’), that we decide, rightly so, that "today emotion would be my king and I his follower”.

The Corridors of Jawahar

I cannot sing the old songs
I sang long years ago,
For heart and voice would fail me,
And foolish tears would flow.


Part 1

Jawahar and I are of the same age, its first bricks were laid in 1983, the same year I was born. But we met each other after thirteen years. In 1996, I first stepped into Jawahar, the large, polite gates along with the Ashoka trees, so large still so unassuming were there to welcome me.

My first encounter with B.N Trishal was an unforgetful event. In that sense every encounter is still afresh in my memory, rumor say that he was a retired army colonel, who was a part of the 1971 war, a synonym of terror.

As soon as I entered his room he looked at me and said “Why are your hairs so long?” Now how often have you met a person who meets you for the first time and says something obnoxious like this? Since he wasn’t expecting any answer from me, I didn’t disappoint him. (Sir, my barber was busy cutting your hair, that’s why he couldn’t cut mine). After asking the general pre-admission questions, he asked me to come out with a poem. A poem!! Man!!!(Goose pimples, all over my body). Frankly speaking, I was never a Student of English literature, as a matter of fact I never considered myself as a Student. Asking me to recite a poem, that too without having a poetry book in my hand, was as same as asking a man who is not also blind, but deaf, and one who has lost his sense of direction to cross the Pune-Mumbai Express highway.

The outcome in this kind of scenario can only be two. Either you stay at your end of the road, or you decide to cross the road and replace the existing phrase ‘Why did the Chicken crossed the road’ with a more appropriate ‘Why did that idiot crossed the road’? The gut instinct inside me said that its better to cross the road now, or be ready to face God knows what. So with all the mixing and churning of various English words that I could do, I managed to come out with a poem, not a long one, perhaps of 2-3 lines.

Though Bunty found the poem to be nothing short of rubbish but still, God knows why, he gave me the admission. I was now a part of JLNS. The famous JLNS run by the even more famous B.N Trishal.

My early years in JLNS were spent in loneliness. Its not that the School was to be blamed, it’s just that when it’s not your time, it’s not your time. It was just as if my life was waiting for the chosen time to arrive. The 8th, the 9th and the 10th, passed like they should have; monotonously.

Except the day when my results were to be announced then the whole situation would change. At those times I would go into a ‘Cocoon of fear’, but somehow or the other, I lived, and transform into a full grown Moth. Another notable feature of these Three years was that I was falling in love with the same girl again and again and again without any failure.



Part 2.

Then came the mother of all exams, the 10th board and in a matter of days, from an Atheist I was transformed into a Chandraswami look alike. I was aware that there was a very remote possibility that I would pass, in medicals terms I was critical, on ventilator. But as an ardent follower of Humanism, who feeds on even the tiniest of hope, I clung on tightly to the last of the hope I had, and gave my exams. Math’s was my biggest tormentor, and it still is. ( Recently I had applied for a Business correspondent in one of the newspapers, and it was math’s again which robbed me of my job and I seriously think that math’s is behind the ever increasing school drop out rate in children, and something needs to be done.)

When I saw the math’s paper, a heavenly calmness covered me, I was dead, and I suddenly realized that my eyesight was fading, for I wasn’t able to see anything in the paper, only blurred images. The ‘Satanic Maths’ was all over me; here it was, again tormenting a follower of god. I knew I was going to be buried alive among the Sin, Cos and the Tans.

Anyways like after every dark night, like after every tunnel, I saw light, and I passed, or more appropriately just passed. But not before I promised myself that I would never try to even cross the path of maths. After the results were announced, I was personally called by Bunty to his room, and he gave me a pat on my back, because according to him, I was one of the students who could have destroyed the 10th result for the whole school.

Life is full of problems, you get rid of one, and the next one is standing at your gates. As soon as my relatives, of far and of near came to know that I had cleared my exams; they started showering suggestions that I should opt for the math’s stream. I was terrified to say the least, and I knew that if I opted for maths, I would be signing my own death certificate.

My Mom Oh Mom, managed to cajole me God knows how, to join math stream, and here I was, sitting in 11thB, surrounded by the maths and science geeks, with large specs. I was feeling (rightly so) that I was the odd one out, and the mathematical terms were sounding like racial abuse, which were exclusively aimed towards me.

That was my first and the last days in 11B, after that I fell ill, and wasn’t able to attend school for a whole week, and the day I recovered and went to JLNS, instead of going to 11B, I headed straight for my Vice-principals office, with a letter in my hand which read like this:




Dear Madame,

I would kindly request you to transfer my son, Abhinandan Mishra to Commerce section. I cannot discuss the reason but I can just say that it is more viable for us in the long run, if he is transferred to commerce section. Any inconvenience is regretted.

Truly Yours
Mrs.Mishra

Part 3.

I was transferred, and as you must have guessed, the letter was not written by my mom, but by me. So here I was, sitting with the future entrepreneurs, and more importantly I was with my ladylove. (My Mom still thinks that I opted for commerce because of silly emotions, and now I think that she was so right).

I soon started ‘blossoming’, the debit and credit, the Micros and the Minis (economics, not skirts), soon found a suitable residence in my brain, and they duly purchased a right ear facing corner flat in my mind. Another thing to my liking was that being a commerce student we were not expected to study and a peculiar ‘ISI’ mark was always with us, which stated that we were the worst of all the lots. In a way we enjoyed this special status, because it gave us freedom and reduced the burden of studying day and night from our weak shoulders.

Another important common feature with all of us was that we all were stung by the ‘love bug’ and were running high temperature. But what was more soothing was that love interest (not a common girl, but different sets of would be Romeo, and different sets of would not be Juliet) of all of us were with us in the same class. That meant that we attended every lecture and would seldom miss school.

By the time 11th ended, I was a part of seven boys group, all fast friend, a friendship which continues even today, with same vigour,same purity. The seven of us were namely, Nandu (that’s me) Doga (Yogendra), Tidda (Rohit), Baniya-I (Ankit), Boddi (Saurabh), Suresh (Suyash) and Baniya-II (Kapil) and each of us had a Mrs.Doga, or a Mrs.Rohit to take care of , so in short we were a happy family.

In 11th we all had attendance in the region of 98%, and we by our deeds and misdeeds had become the darling of many a teachers. We all went to the same evening coaching classes. The time we spent in coaching were unforgetful, still can’t believe that had such a great time. We would bunk, and sit near the Upper Lake, having boiled egg, discussing our ‘matrimonial’ problems, which were always in plenty.

One day I along with Ankit decided to bunk my commerce coaching and went to the upper lake, have Bhuttas , tea and came back. But before leaving for the “Bhuttas”, evil entered my mind. We decided to call up Appan sir, our coaching teacher and threaten him, all in fun. So we went to a public booth, dialed his number, and as we had seen in the movies, with the help of handkerchief acting as our voice modulator, warned him that he was soon to be abducted.

Later when I went home, I was greeted by one tight slap. It didn’t take me much time to figure out what had happened. Apparently Appan sir had recognized my voice, and called up my home, and told them about my ‘Adventurism’, the rest they say is history. But as a true gentleman he was, he soon forgave me. Another personal achievement of some short came to me when I secured the 17th position in the class of 46.


Part 4.

Then came the golden period of my life, the one which Bryan Adams must have gone through which inspired him to write ‘Summer of 69’. I ‘achieved’ in every front, be it studies, cricket, school hooliganism or friendship.

I got 70% marks in the 12th boards, I represented my house in the Inter House cricket tournament and amidst flying kisses, hit a six of the last ball to win the match and also played the role of a waiter in a play, which bought me special praise from my English mame,Anita Chaturvedi. I always had very modest expectations, and all these achievements, though trifle, were very precious.

Till 11th, I was a very shy guy, with little friends, a person whose absence was rarely felt. All that changed in 12th, perhaps because it was the last year, and it bought out the best in all of us.

Four of the seven people from my group, except Kapil and Suyash ,were, what we can call ‘The Bhais’, the notorious one, people who knew the right people at the right places. So in their company, I acquired a new character, and started going through a transformation, like the one which Parker goes through in Spider man. These Bhai’s loved me, respected me, because in their eyes I was a helpless, Love sick innocent guy, with no or little vice. They would always try to instigate my classmates, by hook and mostly by crook, to associate my name with my lady love, so as to make her understand that someone was their who found her beautiful, and loved her. It’s a different thing that there were many others who regarded and saw her in the same way as I did.

Once I went out of the class to have water, and as I was late in coming back, I found the class door closed. Since it was an English period, taught by Anita Chaturvedi Madam, who regarded me as one of the Shakespeare in making, I decided to go inside. As soon as I stepped in, I was greeted by no one but ‘Her’. Apparently she was going to bring chalk or duster what ever it was, and by a sheer coincidence we found ourselves 45 cms away from each other. I kept staring at those lovely eyes, and at that time I realized why I was so madly in love with her, it was those eyes. She stated blushing, and a roar went inside the class.

During the final days of our school, I use to bring a syringe, devoid of the needle part, to school, and with that I used to spray water on anyone whom I could lay my hands to. This time Doga was caught in the line of fire, and I knew that even if I wanted I won’t be able to miss that Ox, but god knows how, that mountain moved at the last split of the second, and instead of Doga, “She” got drenched. The customary Roar again went up, much louder this time and now it was my time to blush. Many such pleasant encounters took place throughout the 12th class, all which kept "Jack" (Titanic fame) inside me alive.

Once to celebrate the Teachers day we had a Jam session where everyone from the burly ‘Gandharv to the Chutku ‘Pradeep, from the beautiful Aditi to the loquacious Aruna all danced, that too in the class, with vengaboys to do the necessary honors. Thumbs-up and Cokes were our version of the champagne, and they didn’t fail us. We seven also ‘tried’ to dance, but we were kind a tribal dancer, and soon we realized that it would be better if we don’t shake.

Part 5

There were the famous kabaddi matches, in which we seven would try our strength against the guys from the math’s section. Once ‘Kabaddi in the times of the Monsoon’ was being played at full swing. We were so engrossed in our play that none of us realized when our white shirt changed color and became brown, and our trousers originally grey turned into a color which was everything but grey. We would have continued to enjoy the mud bath had not Mariamma Mame arrived and shooed us away, and soon we were running towards our classroom, 12C, where more glory awaited us. The mud dried, and it become so much a part of our body that it was useless to even try to remove or wash it. So we decided that since it was the last period, we would sit in the class, like a herd of buffaloes who just had their mud shower, with mud dripping all over.

Then there was the shirtless kabaddi, which was quite a craze among us. Once a player entered our side of line, it was just a matter of time, before he was overpowered by the burly Dogas and the Boddis. After they had played their part in pinning down the poor challenger, I would come into picture. I would sneak in between the heaps of bodies , and with the stealth of mouse would tear out the pocket or sometimes the whole shirt, and it was done so quietly that the victims was not even aware of the mishap, until his other team members would make him aware of his ‘Salman Khan’ status.

The basket ball game was a more serene affair. It was played in the most tranquil manner. The reason being that it was a Boys versus Girls’ game. The opposite team had many a players of repute like Rohini, Khusboo, Aditi and Smita. We also had players, but we had quantity, but no quality, and we always lost, and it was a loss which was thoroughly enjoyed. Still we enjoyed the game, for it gave us the much needed opportunity to make some impression on the girls; which we never did.

I have already told you about the “Roar’ syndrome that we use to suffer from. Whenever we wanted a free class, it just required one voice, and the whole class would join in the same accord. The poor teacher, who in most cases was our very own respected Dear Appan sir, was left with no choice but to succumb to the demand. Similarly we had what we use to call the “CBZphobia”. Whenever we would start feeling the heat of the lecture, or whenever we thought that we had our quota of studies, we silently would drop a steel pencil box and a water filled bottle on the ground from a height, which would make a cracker bursting like sound. This would bring a chaos in the whole class, when the teacher (which in most cases would be Appan sir, again) would ask what had happened, we would just say ‘CBZZZZZ”. The whole notion behind CBZ was that some guys came, busted crackers and fled on CBZ bikes.

One day Chandan came out with an idea that we should stage a play on the occasion of the Annual day. For that he took special permission from Bunty himself. This gave the dramatist one hour for practicing the play everyday, and that one hour was allotted in the last period and was called the “zero period’. In the beginning, no one was much keen to be a part of the play, but then the truth dawn to us that if we become a part of the play we would also be entitled to the luxuries of the zero periods. And soon we made a beelike rush for Chandan, our very honey comb. Soon each and everyone were a Nasserudin Shah and a Tom Alter in himself and herself. Due to the sheer number of the star caste, each one of us was given a theatre presence of less than 2 minutes, the 2 mins. of fame. For the sake of that couple of minutes we practiced and utilized the zero periods for more than two months.

Part 6.

The last year witnessed everything that one could ever imagine. Due to me our class was involved in a free for all fight with students of the dreaded MACT, who had the reputation of beating the day light crap even out of a policeman. The whole of the “attack” lasted a little more than 30 minutes, and it was six of us against [ me,Rohit,Saurabh,Sumit,Ankur Shukla( his is a different story, he was 2 years my junior still he was there with me) and Mohd.Ali ] the whole world, literally. When we decided to take on the ‘Goondas’ we were more than 150, counting my other classmates, the 11th and the 10th guys, and when we were walking the corridors of Jawahar, on our way to the battle ground, I turned back and saw that I was being followed by 150 of “faithful fighters”, but as soon as the 144 of them saw what was in store, they vanished.

Later after the mayhem they did come back and offered us words of sympathy and condolence, and according to then they had not fled, some had gone to call the police, some one had gone call to call the bigger ‘goondas’, and one of them Gandharv, was standing with the girl in question , so as to provide protection to her. (Protecting her!!! From whom? I think it was us who required the protection, and not her. (What a thing, human being!)

Those hooligans were more than 150 in numbers, and still we decided that we should stand our grounds, and we stood, till the ground was taken from us, and then we were rolling. They beat us like anything, which led the traffic on the Habibganj-Anna Nagar road to come at a standstill. Later I was told that the commuters were under the impression that an action sequence of a movie was being shot. Bollywood sure hit us hard that day.

The fight ended when the gang leader (God bless him) decided that it was enough, we had learnt our lessons. We were slaughtered because one of the boys of the math’s section had passed lewd remarks against one of our class classmate who was a girl, and this led to we taking some strict action against him, and to avenge this the math’s guy bought his brother (the gang leader) along with 150 of his pals, to teach us a lesson.

The Swan song. (7)

It was the second last day in school. Everyone was expecting something to happen, and the mantle to make that ‘expected’ happen was on us. But what? We weren’t able to come out with a novel idea, crakers bursting were a routine affair, and we already had the Jam session. Each of us wanted to do something that would make us ‘immortal’, and something which had been never attempted before

Soon I came out with an idea. Our morning assembly would be our stage. The morning assembly was a very peaceful affair. Prefects would be patrolling the assembly grounds and sniff out trouble makers, and then there was the ever present terror of Bunty itself, but we had decided, and nothing could stop us. Even not the pleading of Appan sir and Beena Mame.

The assembly started, the daily news was read, and then there was the usual singing of prayers. Then came the turn of Vice principal to say her thought of the day, and as soon as she climbed on the dais, I started coughing, behind me Rohit started coughing, behind him Chandan , and soon the whole of the boys of 12 C were coughing in union. It was like a sudden onset of ‘Whooping cough’. For a whole two minutes there was nothing but coughing, the whole population of JLNS, nearly 800 of the students and the 100 odd teachers, all were staring at us in disbelief. That was the time when ‘I became the we and we the us’.

Later we were punished, but not too fatally. Considering what we had done, we shouldn’t have been allowed to sit for our 12th exams, (How happy that would have made us, to repeat the whole 12th class again!!) but due to the efforts of Appan Sir and Beena Mame, we were safe and ‘sound’. Those were some of the moments which instill a sense of pride in me for being a part of the commerce 2001 batch.

The Graffiti campaign was a colorful affair, in which our school shirt bore the maximum brunt. This was the time when people spoke their heart out, and wrote what they would have never said by mouth. All of us still have that shirt, one of the very prized possessions that we have, and whenever I am visited by Jawahar, it’s the shirt and the slam book that are there to share my sorrow.

Soon the last day arrived and Appan sir was at his generous best, and he was ‘generously sad’. He gave us a treat of Rosagullas and Gulabjamuns, and with moist eyes he gave us a speech on how he regarded us as the favorite of all the batches that he had ever taught. And soon we all were crying, the gals, the boys, everyone. We felt like we had lost everything in matters of hours, and we cried again. Bunty too had moist eyes, can’t imagine he too becoming emotional for anyone.

It took many a days to digest the fact that we would never be sitting again in the last benches, as we used to, for the past 2 years. Or that we would never see Bunty again, or that we will never hear the peculiar ‘Dear’rrr’ from Appan Sir, or there would be no Beena Mame to advice her.

The Green Bajaj scooter of Saurabh, which was always there to take us to school, the many a ‘Bhatwalas’ who with their ‘Bhatsuars’ (the bigger version of Auto) made it sure that we were never short of attendance, the scooter stand guy, there are so many people, so many things which made Jawahar a once in a life time experience. And the memories of Jawahar regularly visit me, and take me to the place where I was once a part. I may be a Maudlin and a Mawkish, but the human emotions are the best thing the humans have, and I am glad that I have these in abundance.

It has been nearly 6 years since I was officially separated from Jawahar. Whenever I got to Bhopal, I go to JLNS. I still hear the roars of 12 C; watch the Dogas, the Mishras and the other people of my batch walking towards the water tap, playing football or the the more common ‘Round disk” with Snehal, Preeti and Yogita. There I see Bunty walking down the corridors, ‘Ghoda’ shouting, ‘Anni’ joining in and there is Appan Sir, with a register in hand entering the class to be welcomed by forty-six people shouting in one voice “Sir freeeeee………………..


“Hotho pe Dosti Ke Fasane nahi aatey
Sahil pe samadar ke khajane nahi aatey;
Udne do Parindo ko shokh hawaon main,
Laut ke fir Jawahar ke zamane nahi aatey”

An Individual's world

I finally got what I deserved; the hard work had finally paid off. I was crowned “Time‘s Person of the year.” Infact, not only me, but all of us were named as Person of the Year. This recognition has given me a sense of pride. It’s human nature to crave for recognition. There is nothing wrong in giving so much value to Recognition, after all an Altruist is an Altruist because other people see him Altruist and it’s the other individuals who decide “Altruism”.

Millions of people have been responsible for shaping the world. Its Political features, its Economic condition and its Social structure. One cannot point out a single person and say that “This was the human being who decided the dynamics of the world.” Politician, Entrepreneurs, Writers, Sportsperson are what they because of the numerous unnamed people who played small though a very vital role in deciding what they will become.

Subconsciously, unknowingly it’s we who are always deciding the future; what it will hold and what it won’t. What we decide is based on so many things; our expectations, our needs, our pride, our prejudice, our likes, our dislikes. It’s just like that we all are engaged in weaving a colorful blanket for the society, a blanket which instead of thread uses values like Faith, Religion, Democracy and Secularism. The blanket continues to take its shape, the old parts (the past) is destroyed and is worn out with the passage of time, that is what we call “History”. All these Characteristics like threads are like colors. For example let us presume that Blue color signifies Love and Red depicts Hate. So if we put more of the Blue color, we have more Love in the society. Although each one of us is working individually, still we are affected by the end result, because we all have to cover ourselves by the same blanket.
Michelangelo once said “Trifles make perfection, and perfection is no trifle.” It’s the minute things; the ones we tend to ignore that play important parts in shaping an individual, a society and a civilization.

There have so been so many unsung people, who did many a great work, but since they worked collectively, in groups, no one knows them. How about the firefighters who died in 9-11, what about those labors who worked day and night so as to make sure that by the next monsoon a road was built connecting a remote village of Bihar to the main town . Like so many people, there are so many instances.

In context of the ever changing world of today, we tend to forget, how vital role, we are playing for the world and for ourselves. The power of a single individual has often been subdued, save those who in spite of being an individual still managed to transform into an institution in them. Perhaps, Times, an institution has finally found out that it’s the “Us” that will decide the future.

For the love of kerwa

The one and perhaps the only thing which made me drive the 20 kms long drive from my home to my college was Kerwa. The picturous Kerwa.

National Law Institute University (NLIU),my Alma mater was situated in middle of a forest, away from the city and the urban jungle. We, its students, had the pleasure of being surrounded by three dams from three sides, and if some one wanted to meet a watery grave, our college was the place.

Whenever it rained, as in the sense of a ‘Bhopali Rain’ ( when it starts, it doesnt stops), each one of my classmates, me not excluded, had to confront the fear that today was our last day on the earth, and soon all the three dams would flow, overflow and then burst, drowning the whole of the Kerwa, the nearby Mindori village, the magnificent palatial bungalow of the local liquor king which was adjacent to the more magnificent, NLIU building. These were the times when my heart would long for a girlfriend, a ‘Rose’ ,for I didn’t truly like the idea of dying Jack’s death alone.

A landmass that has three large water bodies to quench its thirst, will naturally be a heaven for the trees, for the animals and not to mention the love-couples, who would come there to find some solace and weave their own romantic dream without anyone to disturb them. There were many other features of Kerwa, which would make our imagination run wild. The Rock cliff situated at a height of 250 meters was a place which the dopers, the jointers, the smokers and the boozers adored. The path to the cliff was treacherous, having its share of snakes and scorpions, but it had its reward. Once you would reach the top, you would be welcomed by the ever flowing breeze, due to which all the tiredness would vanish. The ever present faeces of wild animals would instill that fear of the unknown in your heart. The cliff was enchanting, inviting and the local ‘Mount Everest’. The feeling which you would have once you climed on the top was one which can only be felt, not described. The feeling of being at the top, with feet’s dangling in air was just unmatchable.

Then there was the dam, the Kerwa dam itself. It was not the kind of dam which had big sluice gates, rather it had five small iron gates, which were there just because they had to be there. The dam had an extended path, from where you could see the amount of water it stored, and that same path went right to the center of the dam itself, and that was one place which everyone turned to after he had just watched ‘Titanic’, and wanted to re-enact the scene of Jack standing in front of the ship and shouting ‘I am the king of the world’. As you further walked down towards the end of the dam, one would come across a temple, which not surprisingly was situated in a cave.

The best part of Kerwa was for those who were ready to go that extra mile, or those who were willing to take that extra risk. When you go to Kerwa, passing the ‘Kerwa kothi’, you need to turn right for the dam. Most of the people would do that, turn right, but people like us seldom take the ‘Right’ turn. We would go straight, passing the notice board of ‘Danger’. The road that I am referring to, would go straight and straight for about 4 kms, and after that there was nothing but forest, and a small river, no human , no sign of civilization, and more importantly no network for the mobile. The path was a ‘kacha road’, with many a curves and bends, curves which would make even JLo envious. On one side of the road were mountains of dense vegetation and big boulders, and on the other side was a valley, which fortunately never gave us the pleasure to experience how deep it ‘really’ was. As you would drive by, (walking was not a very good option. Cannot remember seeing anyone walking`, except on my farewell day, when I was roaming there on my foot, that too in the middle of night, which I regretfully would like to add was because I just had 4-5 bottles of beer ) you would encounter many a local residents, the peacock, the monkeys; the snakes which were always there without fail, and which even a blind man could never miss out. If you were fortunate or unfortunate, depending on your situation, you would have the pleasure of watching a wild-boar or in some very rare cases a leopard.

The whole of Kerwa was a thrilling adventure, you could visit it everyday, and still your heart would crave for more. It was at its best in the monsoon. Whenever it rains, Kerwa comes to my mind, and also comes to my mind is the new academic session which would start on the onset of monsoon, and which like Kerwa, was so promising.

When it rained, we just couldn’t stop our feet, and all our human instinct would push us towards Kerwa. As and when this would happen, I would take my car, which I now think was also ‘Kerwa obsessive’, and with Sandeep, Sumit, Patel, Churu and Dharma would leave for our epic journey (Kerwa was only 4 kms away), but not before we had taken the necessary stuff to last our journey, which would generally consist of a flask of hot steaming tea, 2-3 pockets of kurkure and more importantly packets of Wills navy cut. With Bryan Adams, or Attaulah khan to give us company, we would march towards our surrogate home.

When we were sad, or had something to sort out, Kerwa was our refuge. We would go there, sit on one of the many rocks, with our feet in water, and guppies to give us a ticklish foot massage, and would think or talk, as was required. The trees and the rocks of Kerwa are the beholder of many a tales and secrets. Secrets which they have shared through generations, secrets which were shared by our seniors and by us.

The nights in Kerwa were special, and only few had the privilege to attend a ‘Kerwan night’. The soft wind would be our lullaby, the stars our protector, and the trees and the rocks our friends and companion. Sometimes we had special guest appearance in the form of a wild dog or a monitor lizard, who on their way to dinner would give us a courtesy visit so as to make us feel 'comfortable'.

Kerwa was our very own forest, and when it was ravaged by the forest fire, we would do everything to stop it. We would catch the illegal forest cutters. And would attend to the snakes that like us, were resident of Kerwa, but who were hit by bikes & cars and were unable to find their way back home.

When a new academic year would begin, Kerwa would be ready for the newcomers, with its own new trees, green leaves and fresh flowing streams. So green, so wet and so inviting. As our session would end, Kerwa would show its grief too. The winds would howl like a beloved crying for her lover who is about to leave her, perhaps never to return. After 2-3 months of grieving, it would again become the old Kerwa again, standing with open arms to welcome the new people who had joined NLIU. Somehow Kerwa taught us the essence of life. People cry for their beloved and dear ones, for the departed. Slowly the pain recedes and life always moves on.

It has been a long time, since I left my college, but the memories of Kerwa is still afresh is my memory, as if it was just yesterday that I drove into the forest. The pleasent moist smell of soil and leaves are still fresh in my memories; I can still feel and see how the tress would ‘swivel’ in happiness when they saw us coming. It was a ‘mutual’ love, one between us and Kerwa.

Environmental degradation- PILs the answer?

Recently a PIL was filed in the Jabalpur High court against the deteriorating state of atmosphere in the City of Bhopal.

The PIL so admitted by the Hon. Madhya Pradesh High Court at Jabalpur comprising of Hon’ble Justice Shri AK Patnaik and Justice RS Jha is sure to raise storms in the administrative corridors as not only the State Pollution Control Board, but the Department of Food and Civil Supply, Union ministry of Petroleum and Gas and Ministry of Environment have also been impleaded as respondents in the PIL.

The PIL states that the main culprit behind the increasing pollution in the city of lakes, as Bhopal is popularly known , are the hundreds of public transport vehicles like the minibuses, three wheelers and the four wheelers which use adulterated medium of fuel, mostly kerosene.

The case of Bhopal is not a unique one; in most of the metros one can see minibuses using kerosene as an alternative fuel and in the process churning out emissions of dangerous proportion. The reason behind this is that kerosene is much cheaper than petrol or diesel being supplied at highly subsidized rates for the poorer sections of society. Thus using kerosene helps is reducing the cost of running as well as maximizing profit.

The law under the Kerosene (restriction on use and fixation of celling price) order, 1993 says that kerosene can be marketed only through Public Distribution System or through Parallel Marketers and it cannot be used for any other purpose other than cooking or for illumination.

According to the study conducted by the Associated Chambers of Commerce and Industry of India (ACCII), more than one-thirds of the subsidized Kerosene is being diverted for black marketing or adulteration by the owners of the Public Distribution System (PDS)(1).

Under Sec. 17(1)(g) of the Air Pollution Act, the State Pollution Control Board has been entrusted with the functions of laying down in consultation with the Central Board standards for emission of air pollutants into the atmosphere from industrial plants and automobiles or for the discharge of any Air pollution into the atmosphere from any other source.

According to reports available with the Madhya Pradesh State Pollution Control Board, out of the 25 cases filed by SPCB against various violators in 2006 , six of them are against State bodies, including the Madhya Pradesh State Electricity Board, the local Municipal Corporation, and the State hospital.

The recent PIL has stated that it’s due to the connivance between the various State Bodies and the Private players that environmental rules and laws are being openly flouted in the state, and the state bodies are at their wits end to explain that why no actions has been taken against the people using kerosene.

Is pertinent hear to mention that the Petitioner Swapnil Verma is a IInd Year Student of National Law Institute University, Bhopal, one of the premier institutions imparting legal education in the country and that he is being represented by Advocate Siddharth Gupta , another product of the same college practicing in Supreme Court.

Its very encouraging sign to see law graduates from the law schools finally giving more important to the social cause, than individual ones. It’s not uncommon to see Law students preferring private law firms instead of going for practice in Bar. A lawyer practicing in the bar may not earn that fat sum of money, but the various noble thought that are inculcated in law schools regarding working for the society and poor can only be attained in the bars.

The government officials in this country suffer from the age old habit of going into deep slumber and it’s the tools like the RTIs and the PILs which can wake them up.

PIL, a tool given birth to by Justices P N Bhagwati and V R Krishna Iyer, sometimes has been accused of as a medium to make cheap publicity or for settling personal scores, but those who have used it for the benefit of society will tell you a different story, ask M C Mehta or the second year student, Swapnil Verma who is the brainchild behind the current PIL.

Will the meek ever inherit the earth?

Earlier in the 90's when India had just ushered in the new liberalization policy it use to be a fight between the state government and the opposition, but Nandigram and Singur have shown that finally the concerned section of the whole deal, the peasants and the landowner have got some due and recognition. The investor and the big companies have nothing to lose, simply because they don't come into picture until the land has been acquired and transferred to them.

In episodes like Nandigram and Singur, there are mostly four different parties, are involved. The State government, the Investor, the Opposition and finally the displaced, people who even after having everything at stake, are the last one who always manage to squeeze in, though 'just'.

It's a toss between economic development at the cost of displacement on one hand and status quo at the cost of economic development on the other. The only thing which tilts the balance in favor of such land acquisition is that there is no precedent which has given out a message against taking land, wherever this has been done, prosperity has followed, be it Bhopal, (not UCL; but BHEL) or be it Bhilai.

The above two episodes have also shown that love for one's own land is stronger than say, love for a political party. The leftist government in Bengal has been ruling the state for many years now, and it has been an unchallenged one. Still it faced resistance from the very people which voted it to power when it started the acquiring process. I now heard that the process has been shelved, and from Nandigram it has moved to Barasat-Sonarpur area, primarily because the government expects less resistance there.

Similarly when Sumit Sarkar, a staunch leftist vented his opposition against the acquisition, it showed that individual ideology is more loyal then the party ideology, and Mr.Sarkar deserves accolades for voicing his opinion, even though it was against the party mood.

Facts can be manipulated, hidden away, but still they can't be completely erased. The left government when confronted on the issue of forcible acquisition said that people were giving their land voluntarily and produced affidavits to further strengthen its argument, though it's a different story that most of the person shown to have filed the affidavit weren't having any land in the contentious area.

We saw a senior Congress leader who is also a Union minister driving pillion on a motorbike, which showed his urgency to meet and sympathize with the people of Singur who earlier had faced the police ire. Sadly that same feeling of being a people representative was missing in the case of Nithari, which was much closer than Singur, though later we saw some of the political heavyweights coming to Nithari, playing the usual and customary blame game and leaving with a word or two of condolence, but by then the damage was already done.

After every such incidents when the common man is at the receiving end, politicians are always their to make their presence felt. In Nandigram is was at the expense of people who were being displaced, it differs, sometimes its at the expense of people who have suffered due to riot, and sometimes its at the cost of a father who has lost his child. The reasons is never the same, it always differ. But the politicians do turn up, without failure.
In the end it always boils down to the stakes involved, not the human, emotional stakes but the political and materialistic one.


Abhinandan Mishra

From 'Baap' To 'Baapu'

'Gandhigiri' has swept the entire nation of its feet. From a 7-year child a to a 70-year-old man, everyone has been gripped by Gandhigiri mania generated by the recent movie "Lage Raho Munna Bhai". This is a very classical example of morals, values and ethos however old, still being relevant in the contemporary society. Few things never lose its shine; non-violence and Gandhiji are just those 'few things'.

Non-violence is regarded as a weapon, which is irrelevant in the contemporary volatile society, where clashes of various degrees and between various institutions is common. Clash between individuals, between societies, "ideologies', and even more importantly clash of civilizations has become so rampant that the term "non-violence" was erased from everyone's mind.

'Might is Right' is regarded as more beneficial today. Individuals and institutions for their personal needs have misused political power, police power and even student power. The tool, which was to be used for the good of society, is now misused for ones own need.

A person who does not wield power is considered to be weak. Sadly the number of such weak persons, who are weak physically, sociologically, intellectually, educationally and most important economically, is very large.

The concept of Gandhigiri has always been there, with us. When I was a 3rd grader my parents would tell me that I should not use abuses or be violent, even if I was being harassed. That too was Gandhigiri. As I grew older I observed that silence was interpreted as a weakness, and hence, I gradually became more inclined towards 'Dadagiri'. Human instincts are such, that one naturally raises his voice if he's hurt. Gandhigiri also preaches the same; "Raise your voice, not your hand".

News channels have been flooded with instances of Gandhigiri. In UP much like the Movie, a retired person undressed himself in front of the whole Secretariat staffs, after the 'babu' demanded bribe in return for his post retirement pensions. In another part of the country, the local citizens presented the SDM of the town with 200 kgs of flower and "get well" wishes after he refused to cancel a liquor shop's license. It's a different thing that the SDM sent all those 'Munnabhais' to prison. Perhaps the SDM hadn't seen Munnabhai yet and, moreover life is not a movie.



The most encouraging of all the post Munnabhai development has been the attitude of the youngsters. They are experiencing a change in heart, literally. The number of college goers visiting and borrowing books on Gandhi from the library has increased. Now one can see more Gandhi T-shirts on the street, Khadi jeans are becoming more popular than the denim jeans, SMS's wishing "Gandhi Jayanti' have been flooding my mobile, the word "baapu" have substituted the word "baap". Someone has rightly said "Movies have the power to bring revolutionary changes ", and India is witnessing one such change.

The changing trends suggest and show that today's youngsters are as same as those who took part in the independence struggle, or who participated in the anti-emergency rallies. They might have been influenced by globalization, westernization, Beatlization or even Pink Floydization, but when it comes to their root they still believe in 'Indianization'. What is required is a medium, which can get the message through to them, and what better than a Movie, and that too a one in which Sanjay Dutt is the professor.

One good thing has so many good things within it. Munnabhai is a meaningful movie. It is a movie, made with the purpose to provide 3 hrs of entertainment to the moviegoers, but it's doing much more than this and along with the fun it is reminding us few 'lessons', which we had forgotten. Moviemakers are not under any obligation to teach us morals and meaning of life, but Munnabhai is doing exactly.

Nonviolence is as relevant as it was 59 years ago. It will always be there, not only because people need it, but also because violence is a luxury, which is available to few. Hope that the message given in "Lagey Raho Munna Bhai" will change few hearts, if not many.

(Published in HT and Chronicle)

Politicizing a terrorist hanging

The way political parties cutting across party lines are asking for clemency for Mohd.Afzal, the mastermind behind the attack on Indian parliament attack is pathetic to say the least.

This shows the mindset of the leaders of this country, who on one hand talk about being tough on terror and on the other ask for pardoning a terrorist, just because he is a Kashmiri.

Appeasement of minority if followed so drastically will cause harm to the country’s unity and integrity to such an extent that these politicians couldn’t even imagine. One cannot politicize each and every issue, but sadly this is what these leaders have been doing.

The PDP, the NC, the APHC, the Left and even the Congress have been vocal in asking for showing of leniency to Afzal. Violent protest has become a daily part of Srinagar even since the Supreme Court announced and confirmed the death sentence.

Linking the peace process with Afzal can never be justified, and this is what is being tried by these ‘people’s representatives’. The argument that Afzal being a Kashmiri, hanging him will have serious repercussions against the peace process is absurd. A terrorist cannot hold the peace process to ransom, and if he does then there is something seriously wrong with the whole process. How can someone ask for pardoning a person who tried his best to destroy the entire political structure of the country? Does he deserve sympathy just because he belongs to a particular state (Jammu & Jammu )? Would these parties reacted the same way if the terrorist had been from some other state and not of the minority community? These are some questions that need to be answered by the people who are asking for clemency for Afzal.

The local parties who talk about Kashmiriyat have, from inception tried to project Jammu & Kashmir as a separate part of India, so as to strengthen their demand for autonomy. Political gimmicks like these is not anything new in relation to the Himalayan State. They need to understand that Jammu & Kashmir is an integral part of India, and their far-fetched dream of an autonomous J&K can never be true. Their demand is based on an illusion that one day Kashmir will be given autonomy, but one cannot achieve anything substantive if he’s following an illusion. A Kashmiri cannot be governed by a different set of law just because he belongs to Jammu & Kashmir.

According to All Party Hurriyat Conference (APHC), hanging Afzal will turn him into a martyr! One must be out of his mind to term Afzal a martyr. And if he is on his way to become a martyr, then surely Nathuram Godse, Kehar Singh were all martyrs. They all had their independent notion of ‘Right and Wrong’ and for that they killed the people whom they thought should be killed. Kehar singh killed Indira Gandhi, because he thought Mrs. Gandhi had committed a crime against the whole Sikh community. Is he a martyr? Is Godse a martyr? Or for that matter the people involved behind the assassination of Rajeev Gandhi a bunch of martyrs?

In Palestine, anyone who dies fighting against Israel is a martyr. Is this what the parties like APHC trying to portray? Are they asking the International community to view J&K as an International problem? A conflict between two states?

The history, issues and the ground realities in Palestine are very different from J&K. Jammu & Kashmir is a problem that is a result of Pakistan’s evil plans, much like what they tried in Punjab. In North we have Kashmir, in South and Central India we have the naxalites and in the North-Eastern states we have the ULFA separatists. One can call it by any name, Militancy, Terrorism or Naxalism. The truth is that terrorists are terrorist, anywhere and everywhere; they do what they are best at doing; spreading terror. One cannot term them as freedom fighter. Are not terrorist active in Balochistan? Or they should also be termed as freedom fighters?

Afzal is not being hanged without being heard, the due process of law has been followed in his case, and the three tiers of judiciary have confirmed his sentence. If anyone deserves the capital punishment, its Afzal, because what he did was truly a rarest of rare case. Had he succeeded, then this country’s security would have been jeopardized, internally and externally.

This case doesn’t deserve any clemency and certainly it doesn’t deserve the political highlight that it has been getting.

( HT published this article and after that i received no less that 40 emails from various quarters including some from the seperatists group operating in Kashmir.)

Love Lives

She asked him whether he can promise her that he will take her on a candlelight dinner, on the coming full moon which was coinciding with her birthday, just the two of them sailing in a boat. He said, "Yes".

Though, he was scared, but then also Joshua was convinced that he would be able to do what he had promised. Perhaps his belief in love convinced him, perhaps.

The day arrived; it was the birthday of her beloved, the day when Joshua was expected to fulfill the promise. He waited for the night to arrive, the moon to rise and sparkle, and then he brought her, his love.

The small boat was waiting, inviting the lovers. The phobia of water, of drowning which was a part of Joshua's life had surprisingly vanished. Presence of love had perhaps overcome the fear, love is more mightier than any fear; believe in love.

He started to row. Helped by the soft breeze, soon they were in the middle of the lake, just the two of them.

The calm, silent blue water had silently accepted the intrusion of the small intruder. The breeze that was blowing was slow and soft, singing a love couplet for the two.

When in love, people become careless, worldly affairs become of no importance, the feelings that arise from deep within the heart, engulfs your mind, hear and soul. So neither of them were surprised when they discovered that the pizzas, the pastas that was a part of their candlelight dinner was not there.

Joshua, was happy, for there will much more time to look into each others eyes, more time to spend while holding each others hand, and just that extra time to bid the final goodbye, the last farewell.

As if with magic, Joshua took out a bottle of champagne, it was as old as their love and as pure. She was astonished, but he was not. After its content was emptied, it was allowed to drift in the waiting arms of the lake.

Their was no need of speaking, for words would have betrayed what they wanted to say, and even if they spoke words would have failed to express their feelings and emotions which only can be comprehended by those who have experienced it. Joshua then spoke, the expressions on his face were that of calmness, as if he had been waiting for a moment and that moment was finally about to arrive. He only wanted to live this moment, and he desired the moment to last forever.

Softly he said " Why were u leaving me behind?" for he knew that she only had few days to keep her eyes open to breath, to feel any emotion, for after those few days, all these things would cease to exist, for she herself would cease to exist, she was dying, her heart had failed her.


Emotions got the better of him, and after a while he spoke, the dilemma, the pain, visible in his eyes. "My dear, my love sometimes you and many times I, must have thought of living happily, spend the remaining life with each other, hand in hand, but fate was not on our side, and like true lovers we shouldn't try to go against our destiny, and it has been decided that we will slowly embrace death, welcome it with open arms, for the champagne we just drank will not allow us to live for more than the moments we need".

She just kept staring, as if to say that she was now happier, more content, and they slowly embraced. They fell into each other's arm, and they waited.

The boat drifted, the moonlit sky turned black, the moon was covered by a patch of clouds and it rained. They died, their love didn’t.

( Wrote this in 2001)

Students and Youths-Losing their way

Politics they say is an art which like every other art is learnt after coming into existence, mytho-logically Abhimanyu was an exception who learnt this art when he was still in his mother’s womb.

Every national party like the Congress, the BJP has a youth wing which grooms the future national leaders. Indian Youth Congress (IYC), the youth party of Congress is often regarded as the doorway to enter the mainstream Congress party. Same goes for the Akhil Bharti Vidyarthee Parishad (ABVP), the student wing of BJP.

ABVP was news recently in, albeit for reasons which it won’t cherish much. A recent incident in Ujjain in which a professor was beaten to death allegedly by the members of the ABVP has caught the entire nation’s headlines.

The ABVP, is said to be the youth front of BJP, so I guess for the BJP a youth is allowed to exercise the rush of adrenaline, lose his cool and manhandle a professor, just because the teacher postponed the student elections. It’s true that with youth, vices like anger, sentiments are associated and to somewhat extent they are acceptable too, but is it acceptable in the present case? The Madhya Pradesh CM ,Shivraj Singh Chouhan, who himself rose from a being an ordinary member of ABVP to the present position of CM termed the incident as an unfortunate one, and went on to say that it was an incident which shouldn’t have occurred. Yes, It was unfortunate and one that shouldn’t have happened, but it became more shameful when the ruling BJP tried to shield the accused just because they were members of ABVP.

The kind of abusive languages used by the ABVP activists on the professors in presence of police was not heard or seen in the past. Leaders like, Bihar deputy chief minister, Sushil Kumar Modi, former union information and broadcasting minister,Ravishankar Prasad and Arun Jaitely, all are products of the ABVP, but they must not have treated their teachers like the modern ABVP leaders did at Ujjain. Their party is in power in Madhya Pradesh and it appears that this very power has gone into the heads of the Parishad leaders.

The recent week has seen a many a student movement or more aptly student ‘protest’. There was the Ujjain incident, then the students of MCM DAV Girls College, Chandigarh went on a strike after one of their colleague was slapped after she broke the rule of not using mobile in the college campus, then the students of Charan Singh university Meerut went on a rampage, burning vehicles, blocking roads after gross irregularities relating to evaluation of answer sheets was discovered in their university.

India has a glorious history of student raising their voices whenever they felt that something wrong was being committed against them and against the society. After Indira Gandhi imposed the emergency, the students under the leadership of JP Narayan proved a to be more than a handful and it would not be an exaggeration to say that it was the student movement which forced Mrs. Gandhi to take back the emergency. Similarly in the early 90’s the whole of the youth came out on the roads when the then PM VP singh tried to implement the reservation policy. The same reason again inspired the whole generation of youths and students to again use their force collectively in 2006. Youth has only one thing that gives them the authority, the recognizition and to some extent the reason to fear them; their “collectivity”, their knack of being united whenever the situation demands.

During the Freedom movement too the students actively participated in the movement for independence. This was very clearly evident in 1905, when students protested against Lord Curzon’s decision of the partition of Bengal. Young revolutionaries like Khudiram bose, Chandrashekhar Azad, Bhagat Singh etc. caught the imaginations of millions of students and youths all over the country. At that time the cause for which the students protested was for the independence of India.

The youth is seen as an essential tool for the politicians, which act as the “foot soldier” if we can term it that way. They are entrusted with the job of spreading the party’s ideology, that is, if they have anything which can be even vaguely termed as an ‘Ideology'.

Earlier the politically affiliated youth parties undertook social welfare activities like mass literacy campaign fight against untouchability, spreading of primary education etc.Similarly in 1962, the Youth Congress played a great role on the patriotic front against the Chinese aggression. Later they also undertook activities such as tree plantation, anti-dowry campaign, anti-hoarding, anti-smuggling campaigns. Campaigns on family planning and anti-dowry campaigns were also undertaken during this period.

Its not that these problems don’t exist today, they do. The only thing is that since these issues don’t command the media attention that the students crave for, the students don’t think it’s profitable or beneficial politically to indulge in these kinds of activities. After all beating a professor, staging a ‘chakkajam’ or burning vehicles makes them more visible in the eyes of their leaders and mentors.

A single individual collectively makes up the youth force of India. They should realize that they in themselves encompass a power which cannot be emulated. A power which if applies itself in a restraint manner and for the right purpose can change not just the whole of India but the whole world.