Patna diary

I

Congressi politicians are facing harrowing time, not because of the scorching summer heat but rather its the political heat generated by their own colleagues that has kept some of them on their toes.

The caste based census issue is something that has wedged a deep divide between the political class in between the UPA itself. As can be read, even the intra party members of Congress are looking north and seeking south. Check Ajay Maken's blog on http://ajaymakenthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/05/letter-to-all-young-mps-on-caste-based.html#comments to find how atleast some of the politicians are not behaving like political opportunist.

Then there is the issue of naxalism on which Congress is divided; again. Digvijay Singh feels that they are mislead ideologues while Chidambaram feels that they are nothing but terrorists.

Then it was Mr.Tharoor who was confused between what he wanted to be. Whether a loyal lover, a dedicated politican or a chirpy twittu. Well he was not even sure that why was he made a minister or why did he come to India in the first place. But as things ended the way it did, he must be a relieved man. Mr.Tharoor, you are still miles away from the honesty (pun intended) that is required from a person to succeed as a political entity in this part of the globe.

Another maverick, Jariram Ramesh had to say sorry to the Prime Minister when he openly criticized Chidambaram for his dealing of India's international relation with China.

Manmohan Singh is literally rocking on how to deal with the naxalites. Should he follow Sonia Gandhi or tow his trusted lieutenant Chidambaram. Whom should be fix the blame on for the recent train mishap? Should he agree with the Railway Minister, Mamta Banarjee who says that it is a political conspiracy to malign her or nod his head by going with the cops and say it was the maoist.

Couldn't stop humming Koi rasta to dikha...khuda ke liye....

II

It is not that only on the national level our political structure is showing signs of going haywire. At a more local front, in Bihar too things are not looking good.

Recently a police officer was appointed as Bikramganj DSP. That shouldn't have made the news, because routine transfers seldom evoke curiosity but in the present case , the newly appointed officer is himself on the run from the police. Even before he could assume charge as Bikramganj DSP, a police team from the district police headquarters was sent to arrest him.

The concerned officer who was earlier attached with STF, Avinash Prasad,is wanted by police in connection with a criminal case for last two months and an arrest order against him is pending in the court of law.

About 2 weeks earlier in a similar sort of comical yet serious incident, which raised fingers on the Policing situation in the state, Bihar Human Rights Commission (BHRC) ordered the state government to pay Rs 40,000 each as compensation to ten persons who were jailed on fabricated charges of murder and kidnapping in two separate cases. The commission has also recommended appropriate action against the then SPs who had submitted a false report.

Again nothing new as such incidents do happen in our country, but what has made this incident serious is the fact that in its reply before the SHRC, the police department said that it was because of the "pressure" on the SP to come out with a result soon due to submission of a representation by the kin of the supposed dead victims in the chief minister's Janata darbar, that led to the gross error on the part of the officers, which included a young IPS probationer.

Bihar Chief minister is undertaking a "Vishwas Yatra" of the state so as to prepare for the state assembly elections that are due soon. Speaking in front of the mass, Nitish is bringing out the achievements of his government, but hard he tries, he is not able to say how he has been time and again let down by his subordinates. The biggest let down was couple of years back when Kosi breached its bank and his officers were caught napping. What happened afterwards is a painful history.

He has a reputation for being upright and high on discipline but that qualities are not channeling down to the lower level. His efforts to put Bihar back on tracks have been successful, albeit, if he got more cooperation of his support staff of government employees the result would have been far better.

Nitish Kumar has all through the last four and a half years focused on Good governance but as the political finale approaches, it seems the state has not progressed much on that front. Corruption has not come down inspite of the fact that a proactive approach was adopted to tackle this disease, including setting up of fast track courts.

The various state departments in Bihar are still to come out of the 'high' that the previous regime gave them. They still feel that they have every right to prolong and unnecessarily delay work of the common men. They still believe that bribe is a part of their salary.

For their routine work they expect that they will be offered cash. And believe me, antics adopted in MunnaBhai won't work here.

I personally had this experience of being asked for bribe for a legitimate act when my cousin who is seeking job of his father on compensatory ground was asked for money in return for moving his file ahead. Not going into the details, a feeling of anguish comes when you think that how can these people be so senseless and shameful. And you feel bad when you think that how will those thousands of illiterate people who have no one to lean on will arrange for ten thousand rupees to join a job which is their legitimate right and whose monthly salary is maybe four thousand rupees.

Losing hope is very easy and to rekindle it is herculean. And right now, after going through the many a such shattering experiences time and again, I am moving towards the easier approach.

It will be easy to change Bihar, but not so easy to change the people here, who for years have lived on situations that have eaten away some of very basic human tendencies.

But then Hope dies when you let it die...just like love.And I am not very good at letting things die.

Prologue

This pages of words is not about a love story between college students, or a tale of a boy from a rural village making big in the urban jungle. Maybe it is about my life, maybe it is about your life and of everyone like us. Of girls and dope, of valentines and kingfisher, of school and college days and the tantrums of heart.

There comes a time in life when we arrive at a juncture, where we start looking back at ‘those’ days of yester years. It’s during these days that we start talking about the past, because at that time we believe that we have seen enough days of life so to go back into the past. At least thats what happened with me. I started going back into the past tales of school uniforms, teachers and lunch break when I was saying present sir to my lecturers and attending what they call lectures.

Well, while keying words in my laptop I frankly have no idea whether I will be able to complete this ­­–­­­­book. Book ? Who said anything about a book. Ok ok..I am writing a book or at least that’s what I think I am doing and this is the first page of that very book. I don’t know till how many pages will my mind walk by my side on this and whether this collective stroll will be enough to bring out a collection of tales that will be enough to say that yes, I am a proud owner of a book that I myself wrote.

It is said that humans are creature of emotions rather than logic, and believe me, I have experienced this facts umpteen time, and I believe that it’s better to be governed by emotions than logic. Perhaps you will come across incidents as you turn the pages which might baffle you, but look closely, you too might have acted the same way.

Emotions maybe very erratic in nature but they are uniform too. It is a strange paradox but I find it true.

Why does a girl unflinchingly loves a boy and continues to love him even when she knows that chances of going along with him is around 98 million light years far. Why does a person in spite being betrayed by his or her love interest still wishes that miracles happen, people change and a similar miracle will happen and they will be together again.

Why is that suddenly you realize that times and people have drifted away. and you ponder when was the last time that you and your closest group of friends met, did nothing, sat for hours and when they left for home you didn’t realize that it was those hours of time that constitute a great life.

Sometimes the sms forwards do carry some sensible messages.

There will be lots of love here. People say that you can fall in love only once. And I humbly disagree. You can fall in love many times either with the same person or some one different. But when you are loving someone then you should love her or him only. Commitment and dedication should be for that person only. I have come across people who were in a great relationships for years and years and suddenly they go their different way because they breakup. And then they fall in love again, with someone different. And they completely forget their ex.

That doesn't mean that they are heartless. Love was then too and love is present now also.

Love is something that makes everything around us beautiful. When in Love, it is the god himself that manifests in you.

The greatest of emotions that a human being has is the gift of love and hope. And with that hope I start something new that will lead to finding the love of my life.

The usual disclaimer doesn’t apply. There are names here and they bear resemblance to living person. So if you find your name among the lines or think that you resemble the character, then in all heavens, you are right.

I may change some names, especially of girls, because they might now be attending to their kids and hubby and to their new found love, but I will make no effort to hide their characteristic so that when they read this they know that it is about them. Tribute to love comes in many ways.

Of my close friends, I know they are large hearted and they won’t mind if I use their actual name, infact I think they will relish it, when their deep dark secrets see the light of the day. I hope I am able to scandalize you enough guys. You deserve it guys...every bit of it, because if it was not for you all then nothing worthwhile to write would have come up.

Lets start from Bhopal, as someone rightly said, “You're biased towards this city.” And I know that she is so true...

The girl on a moving train

The girl on a moving train

leaving a city poor as she moves to the next

the darkness outside matched by her black eyes

and a white moon that shies away due to her sparkling smile

a blue scarf that makes her appear more reddish

a white strap on her hand

and a lone colorful bangle to make the rainbow complete

songs of birds and of a silent night

are no match for her sweet voice

a casual look turns into an attentive stare

among the moments of attraction that looks to seek through

I watch silently as she speaks of her peaceful life

and of her vivacious life, of her hope and of her dream

and listens my tales of small cities and younger childhood days

the silence of something amiss

of something not the same

of something less than love

the strangeness that comes after the sudden familiarity

and the eager shyness to seek attention

maybe we will meet again

maybe she would not be the same again

neither would i be amazed to see her again

among the countless moments of aimless affection

As we chased some timber thieves...

It was another night of the Gharghodan safari that I have become so accustomed to. And whenever it happens, something more exciting than the previous incidents comes up.

This happened yesterday night. And what night it was. It was already past 11.00 and there was no electricity for the past 3 hours and the local people told me that this darkness was here to stay for 2-3 more hours as there was a major fault in the transmission lines.

So Mr.X , my neighbour and a very efficient forest guard and me decided to go the forest on a night patrol so as to maybe see some wild animals who like us would come out of their residents to escape the heat. We hopped into the Sarkari bolero along with 3 more of the guards and started .

The night sky was full of small stars, some shining more brightly than the others and some playing the game of hide and seek. After a 30 minutes drive we were deep inside the forest and came across a pond, the very kind of spot where you can lie down for few hours, feel the cool breeze and close your eyes to every conceivable thought.

And that was what we did. I found myself a comfortable huge rock to settle down and my co-travellers were lost in their talks of jokes and obscenities I found myself wondering among the dark night and the clear sky. The surrounding was peaceful with the occasional sounds of a curious cricket and a fish that was coming on the surface and diving back agaian. My eyelids became heavy and I slept off.

The half an hour sleep was broken by the frog like voice of one of the guards who said that its time we move ahead on our patrol. And we were back in our car again.

The rickety bolero was moving at a gentle pace on the village road made up of mud and gravel. The excitement inside me was losing its steam as we had not come across any animal and I looked at my cellphone for the non existent network and it dawned on me that it was already 12.30 and still we were deep inside the forest.

II

As we were moving ahead we saw head light of a two wheeler coming from the opposite direction and I don’t know how but maybe because of some instinct that comes with years of service the guards sitting in the back side became excited. There were three people on the motorcycle and as we crossed each other they looked at us. And we knew something was wrong.

After just one minute , we saw a tractor coming with its head light switched off. Just as we came parallel to each other our driver shouted “sahab Lakdi” ( sir, Wood) . And instantly my mind told me that it was going to be a long night.

The Bolero which until then could give a LOL syndrome to a cycle wala suddenly became possessed as our driver, a young guy of maybe 17-18 years became a local Chhattisgarhi Narayan Karthikeyen as we started chasing the tractor which was moving far from us.

I tightly held on to the side support of the car as it jumped and raced on the muddy tracks like a forest mice. The headlights of our car was illuminating the tractor that was moving farther and farther ahead of us and I was able to see the outline of the 4 bodies who were sitting on the log and like us were holding on to their dear lives.

The guards sitting behind me were shouting all kinds of obscenities on top of their voice asking the tractor driver to stop. But it was proving to be an unfruitful attempt , their idea behind this was to somehow play on the nerves of the tractor driver so much that he collides his vehicle with a tree or slips of the road.

Let me picture the scenario for you so it becomes a bit easy to see what was actually going on.

Moonless night, a Kucha road, a tractor that is moving ahead like a mad elephant rumbling through the peaceful forest, a white official chhattisgarh forest department bolero that is chasing the wood smugglers and inside that bolero is a guy who is mind you not a forest employee, and behind him are 4 more hyper excited people who were raining a barrage of assorted words.

The low on profile but high on risk chase went on for 10-15 minutes and as we came near to the tractor, we saw a hamlet that we presumed was the original destination of the driver.

On the outskirts of the village, the same people whom we had come across earlier on bike were waiting and soon as they saw us they turned left so as to confuse us and force us to follow them rather than the tractor which had turned right and vanished out of our sight.

No one fell for the bait, as we all knew that the bike will be lost in the many a narrow lanes of the village and even if we are able to catch the people on the bike we would not have the evidence that they are the wood fellers as the logs were on the tractor.

As with some kind on Marco polan instinct, I told our driver to turn right into a road which was nonexistent at that time, but I knew that the tractor had turned right and it had to be there.

And as we turned, we saw people jumping out from the tractor which had come to an abrupt stop and running as if their lives was on stake. We too jumped out even before our vehicle had come to a stop and ran towards the fleeing thieves.

But the local tribals who were supposedly on the tractor were so fast and fearless that even though it was pitch dark they made a sprint through a thick foliage of wild plantation and we were only able to catch a man who was wearing just a loin cloth.

The chase had finally come to an end. But a new situation was developing...as we found ourselves surrounded by the local tribals armed with lathis and axes.

A Gharghodan safari

It was 3.30 in the noon and the temperature was still 45 degree Celsius outside. The sun was playing the innings of his life and I was doing nothing except mumbling words of desperation at the sun and at the electricity department for doing what they are best at; load shedding.

But then like a merciful drop of raindrop on a parched land, my cell rang and it was Mr.X on the other line. Mr.X is one of the many forest department employees whom I have acquainted with since I came to Gharghoda. He was blabbering something that was making no sense and the only thing I could make out was that he was going on a raid to capture timber smugglers and if I wanted to join , he will be waiting for me at the forest guest house where I am currently staying.

I had five minutes to come with an excusable reason to explain to my boss that why I was leaving the office so abruptly . 3 minutes later, I was in my way to the spot where we had decided to meet.

There were four forest employees, one driver and one banker in that Bolero when it took from Gharghoda for the daring adventure to catch the tree thieves.

While on way to destination, which was 70 kms away, they told me that they had got information from the villagers that some timber fellers where cutting trees. And if we are lucky enough we would be able to catch them before they are able to smuggle the heavy wood out of the forest, probably Sagun. This area of Chhattisagrh has heavy plantation of Sagun and i’ts not rare to come across such smuggling.

Soon we were out of the city and curved roads dotted with green trees , lush fields and mountains of soil greeted us make the whole stretch beautiful. In between we also saw huge area of forest cover that was destroyed by wild fire.

Wild fire, they told me, rarely occurs because of natural cause. In 95 percent cases the fire is lighted by the Mahua collectors on behest of local Mahua merchants who find it cumbersome to separate the Mahua from the bed of dried leaves and hence they find it more easy to set the whole area on fire and take away the Mahua later.

The guards who are deputed to stop the fire from spreading have nothing highfi to battle this hot menace and they mostly rely on fresh branches of trees to extinguish fire and they admitted that once a fire starts it is very difficult to stop it from spreading until it has reached its zenith and starts dying down by itself.

The state forest department is spending large amount of money to plant trees and increase the forest area, but its efforts are being mitigated by the regular incidents of forest fire.

Then they narrated me a story of three bears, presumably siblings, who apparently after having their fill of Mahua decided that the shiny Tar road was the best place to have some 'after drinking nap as they laid there for 12 hours. Neither of them, inspite of being conscious, had any problem when the guards shifted them to a safer place using bamboo sticks. Ohh... How much I miss Jehenuma,TC.

And when they finally woke up, they walked away, still reeling on the feet to a nearby nullah to remove the hangover. My take is that these animals have been watching sitcoms too seriously.

One of the person sitting in the backseat narrated me of how he saved a life of an elephant calf who was stuck in the mud for 12 hours.

The guard was posted at a place, 90 kms from Gharghoda. And it was a night of heavy rains when he was told by the villagers that a herd of elephant had converged on a spot in the middle of forest and were showing signs of agitations.

When he rushed there he found that there were more than fifty villagers who had assembled there and were waiting anxiously to see why the elephants were so angry. As our brave guard went near he saw that a calf of not more than 2 months was trying to keep his trunk out of the mud pit in which he had fallen. The elephants were trying to pull out the calf but were not able to get a grip on him. And he was slipping back

So on a night when the rain drops were as huge as a peanut and the sound of thunder was making the overall atmosphere even more menacing, our guard decided to climb into the mud pit to pull the calf out.

The herd consisted of 15-20 elephants with 3 more calves and as you must be aware elephants, like any mother, are pretty unpredictable when it comes to the protection of their calves. But our brave lad took his chance and slowly but steadily walked towards them.

He told me that in spite of his being uniform totally wet , still he didn’t take them off, because he believed that the elephants recognize the colour of Khaki and would do him no harm and his belief was proved right as the elephants made way for him to climb into the mud pit.

Entering the mud pit was another thing and getting that scary calf almost another. And to make matter worse he had the company of so many huge agitated and confused elephants . Hardly any reason to feel comfortable.

The villagers were watching the whole drama unfold silently, perhaps thinking of what they will tell to the Bada Saheb who will scold them for not stopping an insane forest guard from taking up such antics. Or maybe they were thinking that whether the Gajraj will let them take away the body of the poor guard for a proper cremation.

Well fortunately, nothing of such short happened, and after 20 minutes of hard labour, the jumbo kid was pushed out by him. And everything ended on a happy note.

The guard then proudly tells me that when the elephants were moving back into deeper forest along with the rescued cough, the leader of the herd, turned back , looked at our dude and cried out in loud voice as she raised her trunk. Maybe saying thank you.

At the mention of this concluding remark all hell broke loose as the other guards who were quiet till now, started mocking him , calling him names that are too classy to be written here.

At this point we reached our village and saw our informer standing under a tree...

As he walks into the class...

In the future you will see a guy sitting in one of the last benches of Jawahar Lal School,silently following his instinct. And if he starts erasing his notes as soon as the teacher cleans the board, you got to know that the legend is back...my son...proudly walking on his fathers footstep, creating a legacy of his own... Amen.

I, My...

Regret-Not joining IRMA in 2009, Not joining Mundus inspite the Scholarship in 2009

Hate- Not many and its decreasing with time.

Despise- Those who have no compassion for animals.

Wish- Join UN, become a civil Servant ,write a good book,build shelter houses for stray animals.

If I had time machine I would go back to- 1987-1991- when I was in Gujarat, 1991-92 when I was in Ruchika school,Bhubhaneswar, 2000-2001 when I was in Jawahar, 2004-2006- the last few years of college, every moments of years of Abhivykati, to the salsa class of 2003, to the Doha time of 2006.

Wonder where are- Vasudha,Romila,Mit Basa,Lariss,Miss Anne,Lopamudra.

Feel things that should have happened- Time should have stopped in 2001,S.S would have remained the same.

I Miss- Kerwan time, Appan sirs tuition, class of 12 C, those time of Magic moments.

Would like to meet- Gabriel Garcia Marques, Orhan pamuk, Dalai Lama.

Moments that would be worthwhile to relive again- the MACT peace match of 2000, Abhivyakti of 2002 with partners from Excellence college, the evening of marriage of my sister, December and January of 2009 .

Teachers I admire- All of my English teachers. Mrs. Kishwar Jahan, Appan sir, Beena madam,B N Trishal sir, Uday Pratap sir, Naidu sir.

One of the saddest day-- when Bela and Sofia passed away, the last day at school.

Love to - Spend times with KK , Idle away at CP and Sector 18 Noida, Coffee at Rajeev chowk CCD, Let my sister pull my leg, Stroll alone in Mussorie,Laze around at my Patna home, Have evening tea with Mom, Dad and Bela, Enjoy a late night gupshup at Shyamla hills, Have a huge family gathering of everyone, go philosophical at Tattenham corner, Have a meaningful dialogue where I just listen, spend hours with my 6 school friends.

Look forward to- Introducing my would be wife to mom and dad, Sending santabanta jokes to my mother in law, Drive around the town with my father in law, have a wedding in a cool winter season, Come home to a smiling wife who is everything to me.

Would do specially for her - Surprise her when she least expect it, Do things that I am embarrassed to do otherwise like carrying her in arms in a busy metro station, Making tea for her and knowingly substituting salt in place of sugar, Disappearing with her for one week without telling anyone, take her to Kerwa, do Garba with her in Abhivyakti, sit with her on the stairs of Jawahar, watch her get scared by Bela,Laze around with her on a secluded beach, take her to Rome, watch the sunset in Greece, make her mad by singing songs of Rafi, write poems for her,Get dropped at office by her, Get a cut above my eyes after a fistfight with someone who teased her J, Watching emotional love stories with her and cry together, watch her dance in her own ladies Sangeet, specially on Mundey Huey Paresan from Love Aaj Kal...

So long...God Bless.

some months back...

A joyous ride on horse drawn carriage overooking the magnificent taj…some beloved time it was,

your laugh and your smile brightned my somnolent soul,

but then the moments in the black and yellow cab too were no less,

or the feeling of longingness on the volvo from pune to jaweri bazar;

exchanging of notes and something more in a dim lit atm, as i fervently wished it rained

and i leave myself in your hands on a not so empty local train

a whippy dog scares you as we play in one of those park

we say bye and soon the heart starts missing you

Love

It is about thinking how to stay close even when far.

Following when not walking by side.

Missing the person when you are the most happiest.

Not missing every moment but suddenly remembering those moments when you least expect it.

Not being able to forget even when you dont want to remember.

Faintest hint of love coming back makes you glow.

Pretending as if you are as cool as before.

Hoping you laugh with everyone inspite knowing that it will be difficult to.

Smiling when alone.

Pondering how it all started and then how it got over and then wishing it starts all over again.

It is about trying to come close when the distance are long and the paths have faded away.

To hope and continue to hope.

Looking for signs where nothing exist.

Feeling happy when looking at the moon.

Then...you are in love or rather still in love.

76 jawan shahid...

"76 jawan shahid" was what the headline of one of the local newspaper screamed and everything else was the same in this part of Chhattisgarh. The life was going on as if nothing had happened.

The local population was more interested in when will the herd of wild elephants that have come to this part of Gharghoda leave and they were more concerned with how much price they will get this year for Mahua produce.

And it was only when my dad messaged me about the ambush and I got calls from my concerned friends that I came to know that not more than 4 hours away from here our security personnel were being culled like a group of birds. And I instantly thought about how many of them will die.

76 is the official figure that has come out from the dense forests of Dantewara. 76 family have lost their close one but lets not get into the emotive aspect. .

Emotions can never be a great ingredient when you are discussing naxalism.

How many of us remember that on 12th July 09, in Rajnandgaon 29 jawans including an ASP died, on 5th March 07, in Rani Bodli 55 Jawans died ? There have so many such attacks. The figures are high, they always are. But like in any other terror attacks, with every passing day, the number starts fading. And finally there are forgotten, until a new set of number crops up.

The recent trend has suggested that the attack on India's effort to tackle naxalism is from two sides. In the first one, arms are used and in the second type of attack, Pens are used.

Pens are used by the naxal sympathizers who are doing their best to put an ideological pressure on the Indian establishment so as to stop the 'excessive use ' of force on our own people ( read naxals) who have taken to killing because the have been exploited by the government machinery.

One perfect example of this 'intellectual pressure' can be seen in one of the recent "collector's issue" of an English weekly, The Outlook. Every page, every word of its cover story that goes by “Walking with the Comrades" emits this smell.

The writer of this cover story has done a brilliant work. She has left no scope for even thinking that the naxals are brutal killers. Infact she has made sure that by the time we turn the last page we too start sympathizing with the comrades. Infact the weak hearted may even start shedding a tear or two.

The term "romanticize" has been aptly displayed in this cover story. Start romanticizing Naxalism or you too are a bloody heartless capitalist bourgeois.

Now I just want to ask this booker award winner intellect author that when will she start on her precarious, dangerous journey of sympathizing with these jawans who too are fighting for their death. Or maybe she is aware of the fact that no one will be interested in the life of a small low ranked jawan. Maybe she is correct and practical, none of the national magazine will make a cover story out of a piece that is based on the life of a CRPF jawan.

Another amazing ability of these intellects is that they have developed a very effective way of going into a shell whenever something that will make them appear like a faceless buffoon happens. Search for them after any such terror incident and they will disappear, only to appear after 10 days, more refreshed than before and with more fire in their belly to support naxalism and show their intellect. "The Intellectuals".

I have started to hate this word so much. And it is just because of people like Arundhati Roy who wear this very type of intellect on their sleeve and express through their pen.

The only positive that has come out after this attack is that both the national parties have reiterated that they are one when it comes to tackling naxalism. And the current Home minister too has started talking tough as can be gauged from his statement that the Indian government in the past has been lousy while dealing with the naxalites.

The use of air force and army is being delayed on the ground that it will be unethical to use our military might against our own people. This argument though doesn’t stand much ground. The army has been used and still being used in Northern and Eastern sector of India and they have been successfully able to control the local form of terrorism.

The reach of naxals has penetrated every sphere of social life. There are numerous illutrations of this. In Chhattisgarh , the naxalites annual income in expected to be 1000 crores, chiefly though extortion from local traders.

According to forest officers with whom I have been interacting ever since I came here, the naxalites along with the ever present politicians are equally responsible for the lack of development of this newly born state.

It has become very difficult to carry out developmental activities in the interior parts of the state because of the naxal terror and because of this very terror the government is not able to extend its activities into the remote areas, thus providing for a fertile fodder ground for naxals to recruit and expand. It is kind of a circle.

“Operation Greenhunt” has taken a long time to materialize; maybe we are two three years late. But now when it has begun it should only stop when it has completely wiped out this gravest internal threat to Indian security.The fact is that naxalism needs to be eradicated at all cost and I hope Chidambaram and Company will make this sure.

Till then keep praying that you are not affected by the intellects like Roy who say that killing of these jawans is a legitimate act on the part of the naxals so as to defy the rule of Indian government. Maybe she has taken a cue from the history when a dude called Gandhi defied Britishers by using non-violent methods. This lady sure has a wild stretch of imagination

And in between all this, life goes on in Gharghoda, like it is going on in Delhi,Patna or Mumbai.

http://desicritics.org/2010/04/08/033720.php

http://www.centralchronicle.com/viewnews.asp?articleID=33018

A place called Gharghoda

Gharghoda may not sound so good to the ears that for years have been accustomed to hearing names like Delhi,Mumbai, Bangalore or London but believe me it is a good place to be.

Situated in Raigarh district in Chhattisgarh, Gharghoda owes its name to the many a ancient houses that have stables in their backyard. Ghungrulal, a 95 year old young man tells me an interesting tale about the time of 1920s when this small place was first hit by the wave of Indian Independence movement.

He vividly remembers that it was the time of Basant and the monsoon was at full fury and the whole village thought that the time of Pralay has come. But the next day , the Sun god took mercy on them and the pouring too stopped. And it was on that day that a man with a thin stick having an even more leaner body mass index of maybe 23 came to his village and told them that he is looking for any kind of help in his war to drive out the Firangis from India.

The villagers after a long and a much soulful deliberation which spanned more than 3 years and 6 months decided that they would support this man who called himself MKG by providing him with horses that were found in abundance in their village.

And the guy called MKG immensely moved by the help proudly christened the village Gharghoda and moved ahead on his long journey to to the neighboring village which he not surprisingly named Hathgola. No prizes for guessing why he named it so.

So much for the name. But there are many more interesting things here. First of all there is no internet connection here. Do whatever you wish, climb the highest tree, scale the largest fields but still you will be spared the trouble of being addicted to the internet.

Though the buzz in the local superstore is that this place will soon have Wifi connectivity , a program that has been sponsored by the Bill and Melinda gates foundation and until then the Gharghodis have decided to continue accessing their Hotmail and Myspace accounts through the various high-end blue tooth enabled sets that they bought from the neighboring Bihar.

I find this place as more of a resort than a metro-village. The one that is shown in the brochures of Club Mahindra. I mean you will be amazed by the kind of services that you have access to. Starting from the natural spa, to the fragrance of a fresh,wet dung that enthralls your every viable senses, to the dry mud bath that you can never miss even if you want to.

The sense of being attached to mother earth when you hear the sweet mooooooo of a beautiful cow is so over powering that one feels that how on place can we afford to live in concrete jungles where the only moooo comes from a dyslexic boss.

I get goose pimples whenever I hear Basanti, Kumari, Baijanti calling me "O shehri Babu jaldee aana". The honesty that comes straight from their heart makes every words of Bryan Adams composed Straight from the heart so believable.

And my sense in god is strengthened whenever a man carrying a gun and chanting Lal Salam knocks on my door and ask whether 'All iz bell with me."

There are many many such small yet soulfully beautiful things about Gharghoda and I will keep writing whenever I am able to free myself from this desire called Gharghoda.

A Shehri Babu...

Ps-- I will be going to Gharghoda tomorrow but I am sure that the place will be exactly the way I have portrayed it right here.

Walk with me

Within the time of life

we find ways to be alive

the path that we walk,

leave that to look up at the sky

for we may find stars to follow

or a shooting star to wish for

night comes for a new day

just like the present turns into the past

gone will be tomorrow what is today

for what was today became a distant yesterday

not possible to leave the world alive how hard we try

the inevitable sadness in life

a part of life, pretty hard to avoid

in between this death we live our life

and in midst of this we all laugh out loud

For the love of Hussain

The MF Hussain bundle of sex,paints and goddess was once again in news as the 95 year old Maharastra born Indian Picasso was granted Qatari citizenship.

The ever active intellectual guardian population of India ably lead by Miss Booker Arundhati Roy have been raising a heart rendering hue and cry ever since this news broke and have cast a serious doubts on the Indian establishment on their ability to protect "genuine expression of art" and the repeated attack on the more sacrosanct Freedom of Expression enshrined in the Indian constitution.

I am a just bit worried that how much more battering our poor old Constitution will be able to withstand. Every alternate day some Tom, Dick and Harilal rises up with a copy of the Constitution waving in the air and shouting on the top of their voice that " The fundamental rigfhts of Mr.X has been violated".

And after the initial war cry has been shouted, the constitution is consigned to flames, not literally though.

What starts with a question of fundamental Rights turns into an opportunity to gain spotlight and to show that "yeah we are still alive and protecting the intellectual wealth" of India from the saffronist dacoits.

But in this high flying emotive surcharge environment the real issue is lost. Always, without fail.

Forgotten is why is the common people who worship goddess not allowed to feel offend when some one paints those very goddess in nude. Where do their religious rights vanish?

Forgotten is why the religious sentiments ( not the cliche one, but the real one, the one which makes us bow our head whenever we pass a temple) not kept in mind by these intellectuals when they cry over the treatment meted out to people like Hussain.

Forgotten is why Hussain never apologised on the second place after it is forgotten that he should have been asked that why did he chose to paint only Hindu gods in nude in first place.

Miss.Bookers like people shout on the vandalization that was done to Mr.Hussain's painting but they don't ask the Indian Picasso that was not he aware that religion is an integral part of any Indian, be it Hindu or Muslim.

Lets put an open question to our " intellectuals" on What they will choose if given two choices.

Whether the intellectuals will focus on freedom of expression or they will shout violation of breach of privacy if this very Picasso paints them or their close one in nude.

Now that he has shifted his base to Qatar all that remains to be seen is that whether he will express his creativity like the same way as he used to in India.

I have stayed in Qatar and if i am even 10 percent right then I don't think he will even think of letting his artistic creativity go wild.

Hussain should not live under any disillusionment, Allahs right has always been more enforceable in any part of the world, be it India or Qatar.

But in the end it is not about a Muslim artist and a Hindu godess, it is about an Indian artist and an Indian god.

Also at ----- http://desicritics.org/2010/03/05/171947.php