204. Void

Readers of this blog know that I have a poor memory. As is my habit, I must have shared this fact with you a number of times. I hardly worry about poor memory – but on some occasions it creates embarrassing situation for me. Today was one of those days.

Today I started early for office. I had to prepare for a meeting and in the evening I was planning to leave early. Taking advantage of ‘flexi-time’ facility, I took Metro early than my usual time. I had a different crowd around me. Everyday though I do not have conversations with my co-passengers, we do exchange smiles. If someone is in good mood, she would ask me where I was last week and then I share travel experiences with her. Today too, I was taking Metro after a gap of couple of weeks. But as I mentioned, this was not my usual time, so there was no possibility of meeting someone.

I entered Metro and found a vacant seat. The route I take is underground, so there is nothing to watch through the window. As the journey takes hardly 20 minutes, I generally don’t read book in the Metro. I close eyes and just relax – that is what I was planning to do even today.

Suddenly a young woman sitting opposite to me said “Hello” and smiled. I too smiled spontaneously, but I did not reply. I realized that I did not know this woman. I assumed that she must have addressed to some other woman. So, I kept quiet. Smiling to strangers is alright, even I talk to strangers, but today I did not want and so kept quiet.

I noticed that none of the women sitting either to my left or right spoke to that young women. I was curious. Of course, it was happening in an instant – I am take much longer time to write it; even your are taking more time to read it. I was looking at that women but did not respond to her. Suddenly she showed a feeling of insult and stopped smiling. Her eyes showed frustration and anger. She stopped looking at me, and adjusted her earphone for music on mobile handset. It was clear from her body language that she was not comfortable.

By that time, I too wasn’t comfortable. Part of my brain was trying to find out ‘whether I know this woman and if yes, where have we met.’ The more I thought about it, the more I felt that I have met this young woman earlier. In knew her face, her eyes, her voice … I was sure that the women had said “hello” to me and to none else.

So, I wanted to initiate dialogue with her and started looking at her. But now the woman was not at all looking at me. As if the one-two feet distance between us has suddenly become one or two kilometers. For a moment, I thought of leaving my seat, approaching her and talking to her. But I noticed that the woman was completely ignoring me. That created another wave of doubt. Was she really addressing me or someone else?

I kept on staring at the woman and with every passing moment, I was sure that I knew this girl. She must have been aware of my gaze, because next moment she looked at me. I was fully ready for that moment, and I asked, “Do you everyday catch the same Metro?”

She nodded – indicating ‘no’. I said, “I am surprised that we have never met on the Metro.”

Now she was completely relaxed and gave a big smile. I said again, “How is it that we have never met on the Metro? I travel everyday around the same time.”

She explained about car servicing and said, “Are you coming to Chanakypuri office today? We have to gate down at Race Course station.”

Listening to her, it dawned upon me that this young woman was none else but Shehanaz.

I was ashamed of myself.

I know Shehanaz for more than a year now; I have met her at least 25 times during the year. At for hundred times I had tele-conversations with her. She is receptionist –cum –telephone operator in one of my offices.

/

Shehanaz is a good natured woman. She is efficient and proactive. Her work is always of a good quality. She has offered me help on many occasions. Whenever I visit Chanakypuri office, Shehanaz is always kind to me. She always asks about my wellbeing, offers me coffee and helps me to sort out my work in that office. What I have observed that Shehanaz is good with everybody around. She is a kind soul. I have a very good opinion about Shehanaz and I have written good words about her to her seniors.

I speak to Shehanaz. We hardly get five minutes. Shehanaz is now in good spirit and she is smiling. Metro arrives at Race Course. Shehanaz gets down. Doors close. Shehanaz moves away but turns back and smiles at me, waves her hand. I too smile and wave back.

However, I am engrossed in thought. Why did not I recognize Shehanaz immediately? If I meet someone after a long gap or someone whom I hardly know and like – I can understand poor memory. But I like Shehanaz and I keep on meeting her regularly – still I failed to recognize her.

It is possible that as I had never met Shehanaz on the Metro, I least expected her to meet here. Well, if I was surprised, it would have been natural – but I failed to recognize her cannot be justified in any manner. Generally we picture people in a given set up – it is hard to recognize postman in civil dress and without postbag; or a vegetable vendor at a movie theater. So, maybe meeting Shehanaz here was not at all expected by me.

Am I equating human being with his/her work? Am I looking at them as machines and not as human beings? Am I too selfish or insensitive to existence of others? Am I always lost in my own world? Am I getting disconnected from the reality around me?

Life has its own speed. There are always new happenings in life, so the old ones are easily left behind. But is it just a game for me – to replace old memories by new? Am I looking at life as a game? What will it lead to me? Until I get old, new persons, incidents, memories will keep on entering into my life – so I can afford to forget the past – persons, incidents, memories and what not. Because I am still active, my senses are working alright, I can play this game; as if it the only one of any significance.

What will happen if I get long life? By law of nature, my senses will become weak; a time will come when nothing new would be added to my life. When the inflow of new persons, incidents, memories etc. stops (and it will stop one day); what will I remember? By that time past will be dead and there will be hardly exciting ‘present’. If I remember something from the past, will that past have any place for me? Will those people, incidents, memories of the past mean anything to me? Will there be only a vacuum – where there will be no past and there will be no present. What will I do then? With the Mind, with the Body and with the Ego?  

Will I be able to live happily in that void? 

**

189. Delhi: A Perspective

I always believe that places reveal very little to us when we are not interested in them; but open up for those of us who are interested. In other words, it is not only that we choose a place, but the place also chooses us.

I have chosen Delhi as ‘my place’ for last couple of years and I always wonder whether Delhi has accepted me or not. Some signals are positive and some are neutral. After visiting many ‘spots’ and ‘sites’ and crossing the road at least 500 times; after experience the fog and the burning summer, I am still clueless about Delhi. Not only about its past; about its future; but also about its present.

How is Delhi?

It is beautiful and ugly. It is enthusiastic and depressive. It is aggressive and tolerant. It is filthy rich and extremely poor. It is cultured and vulgar. It is supersonic and slow. It is religious and mundane. It is lazy and consumerist. It is flowing and it is stagnated. It is in 21^st century and also in 16^th century. All these ‘Delhis’ coexist, hand in hand. Every time I experience it, it is different. Delhi by all means is a mystery.

Frankly speaking, Khushwant Singh is not my favorite writer. It was only after strong recommendation by one of my young friends that I touched the novel Delhi. However, I was stunned by the first paragraph itself. The narrator compares Delhi to his mistress. He says, “Delhi and Bhagmati (narrator’s mistress) have a lot in common. Having been long misused by rough people they have learnt to conceal their seductive charms under a mask of repulsive ugliness. It is only to their lovers, among whom I count myself, that they reveal their true selves.” 

So true, I felt – though I did not know about Bhagmati, I certainly knew that much about Delhi.

The principle narrator of the novel is a man. He is a Sikh. He visits foreign countries and works as a guide for foreign tourist. Through them he narrates material richness of Delhi and through Bhgamati, he shows us the poor, the vulnerable. Both enrich Delhi’s personality.

The narrator takes the readers to various places and its history. That is a fantastic journey. Places like Nigambodh Ghat, Tilpat, Suraj Kund, Okhla, Qutub Minar, Hauz Khas, Purana Quila, Red Fort… and so many others! Delhi comes alive through the narration.

What I enjoyed most is the history of Hajarat Nizamuddin – who so far was just a name of Railway Station for me. The life of this Sufi Saint is indeed inspiring. “Kings come and kings go. The will of Allah is eternal” – the words of Nizamuddin ring so true even today. So, is the story of Rakab Ganj Gurudwara. I am sure, when I visit both these places, I will have a better understanding of those and hence a far meaningful relationship with those two places. Other readers will find more such places to get the connection. The strength of the book lies in these kinds of narrations. There might be more fiction than the truth even in these narrations, but the truth that appears is blazing. One understands that Delhi has lived more life than we can imagine, Delhi has experienced more pain than one can endure and Delhi has seen so many power shifts that she hardly is affected by any power.

There are some interesting mythological stories (though not in details) spread across the pages. For example the names of the five villages that Pandavas are believed to have asked for to avoid war; how Balarama made river Yamuna zigzag. That was something which I did not know. Now I have more questions and I will seek more light on these mythological aspects as well.

His remarks on contemporary Delhi are also fascinating. For example the custom inspector, the cab driver, the crowd gathered to watch foreigner lady, the diplomatic office circle in Delhi, Republic Day Parade atmosphere.. .. Hilarious; and painful at the same time.

Being a Khushwant Singh novel, there are many women and sexual descriptions run parallel to journey of Delhi. This is one more example where an author is not able to break his image.  But his story of Delhi is so interesting that it did not stop me from reading the novel. 

And the human face of Khushwant Singh, the author makes a strong appearance through the pages. In Chapter 18, the narrator talks about ‘Builders’ – a narration spread over 30 pages. The narrator of this chapter is a contractor of Lutyens' Delhi. The contractor is none else but father of Khushwant Singh – Sobha Singh!! The author who cannot write without sex even when he is describing the life of Hajarat Nizamuddin or while a young man is watching Gandhijee’s prayer his mind thinks about Dr. Sushila in no less vulgar terms. But it only when the author is narrating the story of his real father, he abstains from any mention to sexuality. This only shows that one thinks  about ‘our own people’ in a different way !!

If you know when and how to ignore Khushwant Singh, this book makes one of the best reads. If you allow the author to irritate you, you will certainly not enjoy the book. However, with his knowledge of the city and the history of the city and the command on the language, I would  recommend that Delhi is worth reading! It is an interesting perspective about Delhi. 

Delhi- a novel: Khushwant Singh

Penguin Books, India

1990

Price: Rs. 250/- (paperback)

186. Exhibition

A call from an unknown number. I cannot have the luxury of not answering calls from unlisted numbers. In a way, this phone is for public purpose, I keep on receiving calls from 'unlisted numbers'.

"Good Morning," there is a woman, from Delhi. She tells me her name and adds, "Mr. X has asked me to contact you." I know Mr X for many years. He is associated with one organization who does a bit of social work. I don't really appreciate what his organization does but I appreciate the commitment and dedication  of Mr. X.. So if someone approaches me through the thread of Mr. X, I generally offer whatever help I can.

"Good Morning. What do you need me to do?" I ask directly.
"Mr. X has told me that you have a lot of information," the woman says vaguely.
Now I have crossed that phase when one feels happy at the praise showered by strangers. That woman may not know it.
"What information do you want?" I ask again.
"Women," is the answer.

Now 'information on or about women' is a broad theme. Until this women tells me what exactly she wants, I won't be able to help her.
"Which women? On what theme?" I try to steer the conversation.
"Oh! Obviously Indian women! Any theme that you want," the woman speaks calmly.

I am bit irritated with the vagueness of the dialogue. However, because of the reference of Mr. X, I am not in a position to end it immediately.

After spending another few minutes what I realize is this: the organization with which this woman is associated (the same organization where Mr. X is also involved) is planning an exhibition on Ancient Indian History. They need some help from me in this regard.

"Have you listed some names?" I ask.
"Well, we have your name ..." the woman seems to have a good sense of humor.
"I am talking about historical names. If I know what kind of preparation you have, I will be able to help you better." I say politely.
"Sorry, I did not have enough time. Whatever you want, can be done. No problem." the woman says, again with the same calmness.

I smile. There won't be any problem, because they have not given any thought to exhibition. Anyway, I can always provide them few names.

The exhibition is in Delhi, so the write-up needs to be in Hindi.
I ask, "If I give you information in English, do you have someone who can translate it in Hindi?" I expect affirmative answer.
"No, we don't have any person who can translate. Why don't you give us information in Hindi? You are based in Delhi, so you also should be able to write Hindi..." that is undesirable. .

I decide to leave the matter for some time. I can always discuss these details with Mr. X.
"You are going to have posters ..." I am thinking aloud.
"Probably..." the woman says.
"Who is going to do the sketches? Or you will be using photographs? What would be the size of the posters? There cannot be too much of matter on posters, so we have to choose the information thoughtfully ...." my train of thought is going fast.
"Don't you have drawings, sketches or photographs?" the woman asks me in a tone of disbelief.

"No," I reply. Even though this woman has given me reference of Mr. X, now I am reaching the limits of patience.
"Then what will we do?" she asks.
Who is planning the exhibition? I wonder.

"You decide and tell me," I say little curtly.
"There is no time for decisions and discussions," the woman is also irritated now.
Curiosity overtakes my irritation and anger. Here is a woman whose organization wants to plan an exhibition; she does not know anything about the topic; she calls me for help and trying to order me; she does not know me and still she is getting irritated with me for no reason. I note to tell Mr. X that he should not provide my mobile number to any Rama, Seeta and Laxman.

"Yes, time is always short for such tasks," I try to understand her position.
With enthusiasm (which is my habit!) I add, "Kindly discuss with your team about all these points. Then we can sit together and work out. Don't worry, everything would be fine," I try to assure her.

"Can you come to my place today evening?" she asks.
"Sorry, I am out of Delhi for a week. Maybe....". I say.
The woman does not allow me to complete the sentence. "You are of no use then.." she announces.
"What do you mean?" I control myself but still can't help asking the question.

"The exhibition is planned on this Saturday-Sunday." the woman tells me.
"Sorry, I can't help you and best wishes to you..." I say and cut off the phone.

Exhibition!!
Exhibition, of what?

Exhibition that I work for a voluntary organization? Exhibition of my interests in History and Culture? Exhibition of our attitude to take everything casually? Exhibition of 'right to expect from others'?

Exhibition of many such aspects of how human beings think, and how they work!!
**

182. Khan Market

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 32; the thirty-second edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is 'An Untold Story'

I have a very strange feeling about this city. I know, this statement applies to all the cities - urban life has become a very strange kind of living. That is the reason I generally don't say "this is a strange city" - but I can't help it saying about Delhi. I have lived in many cities and always lived as if I was born there and I was going to die there. But with Delhi, it is different. When I came here, I knew I had to leave this city some day. Is that truth makes me feel the strangeness of Delhi? I don't know.

A lot has been told and written about Delhi. From ages, people have been expressing their love or there awe about Delhi. However I feel that Delhi still offers an Untold Story, it has the capacity to open its secrets if one is interested.  I know, you won't believe me. Alright, take the example of Khan Market.

So far, I had visited Khan Market only once - with a colleague from Canada. During those hours I had realized that this place was not for me.When I received a message from Surekha Narain about a visit to Khan Market area, I was surprised. The weather in Delhi was not conducive for moving around leisurely even after a comparatively good rain in August. I had been to couple of places with Surekha and had found it to be good. I mean the group is never too large so we can spend time in discussions and information generation. Surekha always comes with lot of information to share and the atmosphere is friendly and informal. She provides good insights into the places we visit. So I was eager to visit Khan Market. 

I wanted to know more before confirming and so asked my colleagues, "What is there in and around Khan Market?" Most of them are born and brought up in Delhi - still they looked at me in a weird way, said "Market" and changed the topic. I went to Wikipedia. There I gathered few points like - this Market was established in 1951, it is named after legendary Khan Abdul Ghaffar Khan and it has 21st rank in the list of costly markets in the world!! Reading this, I was caught in two minds - to visit Khan Market or Not. However, I was sure, Surekha would present  Untold Story of the area to me. 

Hotel Ambassador, Khan Market, New Delhi 

Finally, I decide to go to Khan Market. When we met at 8.00 in the morning outside Khan Market Metro Station, I was happy to notice that the group was not too large. Being Saturday morning, the road was not crowded.At the first glance, a big white building opposite the road attracted my attention. This is supposed to be a rich people's area - so I thought it must be famous residential complex. But I was told that it was the back side of Ambassador Hotel. Later we could actually visit the hotel - will tell you about it after a couple of paragraphs!

Bagwali Masjid, Khan Market, New Delhi

Outside the Metro Station (Exit Gate 2) we turned towards left. After a peaceful walk for five minutes, we reached 'Bagawali Masjid'. The mosque is named so because during its prime time  it was surrounded  by garden. There were three four people (all men) praying. We were not sure whether women were allowed in that mosque -so we entered with precaution- ready to turn around any minute. All women in the group covered their head with scarf or dupatta. There were few people sitting in the mosque, but they did not object to our entry so we were relaxed and started enjoying the architecture of the place. From the main road, the mosque is not at all visible - though instead of garden, there is a nursery now. What changed the fortune of this place? It remains an Untold Story for me!

Next we visited Sujan Singh Park. This was the first apartment in Delhi built long back in 1945. Who is this Sujan Singh? He is father of building contractor Sobha Singh. Who is Sobha Singh? He is father of Khushwant Singh. (Please, don't ask who is Khushwant Singh!!). Sobha Singh was prominent builder of Lutyen's  Delhi. It is said that not long back half of the Delhi belonged to Sobha Singh.I was pained to note that the city of Delhi elected  him not once but four times as President of New Delhi Municipal Council. How can people forget and forgive that he was one of those who identified Bhagat Singh and Batukeshwar Datta for throwing bombs in Delhi Assembly in 1929. Why do we have a very weak sense of patriotism? Well, that too remains an Untold Story! 

Sujan Singh Park, Khan Market, New Delhi

The apartment is extremely beautiful. The serenity catches one's heart. For a moment, we all were speechless. In the midst of high rise building it was nice to have this not so high building. Each household has open balcony - which could be seen better in the earlier photograph of Hotel Ambassador. The security guards came to ask us the purpose of the visit. When we said that we just wanted to watch the building - two of them nodded but nevertheless followed us till the end. Many people must be coming to 'see' this building  The complex is 'U' shaped - residential buildings on the three sides with a beautiful garden in the midst, For a moment I thought we were in historical time - but the impression immediately vanished due to modern cars parked there. One of us loudly thought, "what could be the price of one flat in this apartment?" and I decided not to pay attention to such discussion. How many families must have stayed here and how many must have moved out of here! Their story is untold indeed!

Old Telephone in Hotel Ambassador, New Delhi 

We crossed the road. We were not sure whether we would be allowed to enter the Ambassador Hotel. Surprisingly the security guards welcomed us with 'Good Morning'. Maybe it is part of their duty or maybe the foreign nationals in our group made our entry easy. Surekha interacted with the hotel staff and suddenly we were invited inside the hotel. The staff took us to couple of rooms. One of the staff - a man - who has been working there for last 35 years talked about old type of fans, old type of lifts etc. We saw 'ancient looking' telephone in the lobby - which was not working. I felt like I was on the set of some 'old' movie. The hotel walls are white and again in the midst of the triangular shaped building there is  a large space. We were told that there was a restaurant in that place. The rooms were good but not worth of charges. I don't who comes and stays in these costly rooms and why. Maybe there are many more Untold Stories!!

Our next point was a Synagogue. Here we met the Rabbi and the Secretary Mr. Malekar. According to him there are about 5000 Jew population in India and about 50 people in Delhi who are the followers are of Judaism. However, many people from the various embassies come here to pray.It was nice to here a religious teacher saying: "I am Indian first and Jew later" or "Israel is in my heart, but India is in my blood." We Indians in that group felt good about it.

Mr. Malekar briefly explained fundamental teachings of Judaism, the prayer ceremony in the Synagogue. For example the cloth the Rabbi wears during the discourse and the Shofar has historical significance. Nobody is allowed to enter the wooden platform from where the Rabbi gives talk etc. However things are changing now. For example the status of women according to the religion is changing. The tradition says that Torah should not be read unless 10 men are there to listen. But now at least the Delhi Synagogue reads it if there are 10 persons - which includes women. Saturady is a Sabbath day and work is forbidden on that day. However here was Mr. Malkear, working on Saturday and sharing the knowledge with non-followers of Jew faith. What factors contributed to these changes - is another Untold Story!

Parasi Cemetery, Khan Market, New Delhi 

The area has many cemeteries - Jew, Christian and Parasi. We visited the Jew and the Parasi cemeteries Some of the tombs were smaller in size. The realization that those tombs are of young children made everyone little sad. The Parasi Cemetery looked better maintained - though the number of Parasi people in Delhi also is not very high.  Interestingly we found that Parasi people have a longer life - whether this is truth or not needs to be checked with other authentic data. We had a brief  discussion on how different religions dispose the dead. What kind of life these people had lived - we do not know. We also do not know what they saw and what they felt. Only their memory remains - if someone is there to remember them. Otherwise there are so many lives who carry with them the story of their life - Untold!

If you ask anyone in Delhi about Khan Market; ten out of ten people would say that it a place for shopping. Here we were, a group of people, spending two and half hours in the area - without visiting a shop, without visiting a restaurant and still feeling full.

To some extent, I understood the Untold Story of Khan Market area that morning. But many aspects of the story need to be explored. Let me see when I get the opportunity to visit the area again! Let me see what this strange city of Delhi reveals to me. 

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Introduced By: BLOGGER NAME, Participation Count: XX

**

181. Categories

When I am getting out of Delhi Metro Station(s), I am interested in observing people's choice(s).

There are three choices - to take a lift, an escalator or staircase. Obviously, this is before or after Metro travel!

It is understood that those people who are either ill, very old or having luggage should use the lift. 

Rest of the commuters have two options - staircase and escalator. Most of the Metro Stations do not have the facility of escalators for climbing down - they are only for climbing up. So, I am mainly discussing the tendencies exhibited during Upward Mobility! 

Every time I see some people rushing to lift. Even for climbing down they want to use the lift. They are not always old or ill or do not carry luggage. However, they are obsessed with 'saving time' and always want to take the fastest route. I put these people in category one. Sometimes I wonder whether these people know only one way of living, I doubt whether they are flexible and I wonder how they would respond to life without electricity. 

There are some people who would always take staircase. " Use Stairs to Stay Fit" declares Delhi Metro. Some people do take this opportunity to exercise a bit and stay fit. They are least affected physically as well as psychologically, when the escalator is not working. They are determined and they carry on with their mission without bothering about the external situation. I am not sure how many staircases they climb up every day. These are category two people for me. They are health conscious and certainly they can adjust to the situation in a much better way than the category one people. But in a way, they are like category one people! They also have a fixed way of thinking - only staircase!! 

The third category of people always try to use escalators. They are kind of people who use technology (or luxury) when available. But if the escalator is not working, they would calmly climb up the staircase. They would say : alright, once in a while it is good.  These people have choices and initially they try to make easy choices. However, if easy choice is not available, they do not mind the hard way. They could be easily mixed into category one and category two - it is hard to identify at a glance.

Fourth category is more spontaneous. Depending on their mood or situation, they decide what to choose. Sometimes they would just run on the staircase and some other time they would lazily wait for the lift. They don't have any fixed route - they enjoy the variety and for them the variety comes from within.  I am a regular Metro traveler for two years and know some of the faces who sometimes take escalator and sometimes staircase. I like their unpredictable ways of choosing options. Wherever they go, I am sure these people would always create fun for themselves - by being flexible.

And I know there are many more categories.

One category who observes, thinks, shares.
Another category who never bothers.
Another one who does not like being categorized like this.

We belong to either of these categories - maybe we are in different categories for different things in life. But certainly our behaviors create pattern giving glimpses into inner mind.
Of course, sometimes we could be fooled , we could be completely wrong.
However, the process of categorization keeps on happening.
With knowledge or without knowledge.

How much of it is conditioning and how much of it is choice?
I do not know. 

169. Honesty

Do we really value honesty?

That is what I kept wondering about when I happened to listen the conversation.

I was in the Saphal outlet to purchase some fruits.  Delhi has this chain of  Saphal and Mother Dairy Outlets in every nook of the city. 

Three people – probably father, mother and son entered the outlet. The son was in his 30s and parents in their 50s. They wanted to purchase watermelon.

“Is it sweet?” father asked.

The man on the sales counter answered, “Sir, I cannot assure you. If you are fortunate, it would be sweet, otherwise it won’t.”

“Oh! Stupid! What has fortune and fate to do with taste of Watermelon?” the son exclaimed. “Why can’t you keep only sweet watermelons?” He added irritably.

The sales man just smiled. He politely said, “Sir, how can we do that? We try the best of the watermelons, but it is nature’s gift, we do not have control over these things.”

Now the woman spoke, “But in some other shop I saw the man tapping the watermelon and identifying whether it was sweet or not. Can’t you do that? “

“Oh! Madamjee that is just a trick, a trick to satisfy you. Was the watermelon thus tested always sweet?”

“If you don’t know, don’t teach us  ...” the father was now angry.

“Ok, let us go, let us try at some other shop” the woman said and they all stormed out, dissatisfied.

“Why did not you try to play the trick? Don't you know it?" Some other customer asked the salesman.

“Oh! I never understand why city people do not have patience with uncertainty. Why don’t  you people value honesty?”

He looked at me.

I had no answer.

I will never have one to this question.

156. Missing Link

While leaving, I felt that I should not have visited the place at all. I had not visited the place for years - in fact, it is my first visit and today was no special reason to visit. However, this day was marked for you; it seems.

Almost everyone got down at Red Fort from the HoHo bus, and the guide looked at me enquiringly. I told her that I wanted to go to the next point. I was the only one getting down there.  

The entry was not a problem at all. No security check, no queue, no tickets.

But everyone is asked to take shoes off. I keep the shoes in the stand and come across one of your well known statements. You say:

The simplicity of your words is touching. I stand there for few moments – asking the question to myself I guess. I don’t have to go inside and take your ‘darshan’ – for that matter you are no God for me. If I could have met you, I would have certainly argued with you and you know I am hard nut to convince. But that is not to be – we never met and will never meet.

I move inside and watch people clicking around – just clicking and clicking.

Only few foreigners are interested in your life and in your actions. At least some people are talking about you finally – better few than none.

I move further around. The original idea of the place must have been great. The surrounding cell-like structures (sort of open cabins) should be a good place to sit and think – like the one they have in Buddhist monasteries.  

But they are so dirty, one cannot sit there. If you were there, you would take a broom and start cleaning those. To young ones who wanted to join Freedom struggle, the first task you gave was toilet cleaning. At least I know story of one person whom you had given this task.  Now you would need more people to clean things around – you alone won’t be able to do it – even with your ‘weapon’ of fasting. I know, weapon is the not the right word!

I sometimes wonder why I treat you as if I know you fully well. I have hardly read anything you have written. You had time enough to write volumes and I don’t have time even to read those.

The truth is: I am not interested.

Do I think you are outdated and hence irrelevant?

I don’t think so. Otherwise why should I visit Rajghat on a foggy Sunday morning?

But what is the relevance? Where is the connection? Where is the bridge? Where is that thread? Where do we stand in the scheme and the dream you talk about?

The link is still missing.

155. Guilt

I know Mumbai has only two seasons – Summer and Monsoon; no Winter at all.

It took me one year to understand that Delhi too has only two seasons – Summer and Winter – no Monsoon at all. I mean it rains, but it is not like a ‘rainy season’.

So, while moving around Nehru Place, I was thirsty. Though it was month of July, the Sun was blazing. I was amused with this habit of Delhi to name Malls after great historical persons. Nehru Place, Bhikaji Kama Place, Aurobindo Place, Rajendra Place …. All these places are basically Shopping Complexes.  

I went to a small shop. There were many ‘cold (soft) drinks’. I almost don’t like any of those. Maybe I should drink water – I thought. Suddenly I experienced some movement at my side. A young girl was standing by my side and looking at me expectantly. She was about 8 to 10 years. Her frock was torn at many places but it was clean. Her hair was unkempt. She looked weak. Her eyes were big – maybe because of her malnourished status, the eyes looked bigger. She was touching my Kurta and was trying to smile.

I smiled to that young girl. I asked, “Are you hungry?”

“No, I just had some food,” her honest answer surprised me.

“Well, “ I did not know what to speak next.

“What are you going to drink?” she asked me.

Well, I was thinking of drinking water – but I knew that was not what she expected.

“What would you like to have?” I asked.

She looked at me in disbelief.

I repeated the question.

“I never had that” – she showed me one bottle with some hesitation.

The shopkeeper was getting impatient.

“Madam, don’t pay any attention to her. They are beggars. All the day they follow some or the other. Give her a rupee or two, that is all.” He advised me.

I asked the shopkeeper to give two bottles of what the girl had indicated. It was badam milk – cold milk with almond pieces and sugar. It was good. I liked it.

The girl was trying to finish the drink in a hurry. I told her not to hurry.

She looked happy and satisfied.

When she finished half of the bottle, she stopped suddenly.

“What happened? Don’t you like it?” I asked.

She was clearly in two minds.

She looked at the half finished bottle once and looked at a distant corner again.

Then she came to a decision.

“I want to take this to my young brother. Can you wait for five minutes? I will just take the bottle to him and bring the empty bottle. You know he too never had this, I liked it and I want him to have this” she pleaded.

I was touched by her innocence. Who would give something for others so easily?

The shopkeeper and the people around were watching the scene with interest now.

I smiled at them, they smiled back to me.

“Finish your milk first. Will take another one for your brother,” I told the young one.

I asked for the third bottle. Gave that to the girl. Asked her if she wanted any more.

She said, only one bottle would do – as her elder siblings and parents have tested the badam milk some other time.

I asked the shopkeeper to charge me for the price of the (empty) bottle – in case the girl forgets to return the bottle to him.

“What are you talking Madam? We are not so bad. Let the girl take the bottle and return whenever. Does not matter if we miss one empty bottle,” he said, everybody around nodded.

“After all she stays here. We are sort of neighbors. But many customers don’t like them around and so we shout at them,” another one explained.

“Come again,” the girl said to me.

“Do come again Madam,” the shopkeepers said with smile.

Who knows, I might have been in the place of that girl!

Or if life changes to worst, I might have to beg one day!!

At times even if I cannot give money or food to beggars, I treat them with dignity.

Life is full of uncertainties – but I have no fear.

Guilt? Yes I feel some sort of guilt.

How can I say that I live in a cultured society where people have to beg for food and have to live on streets?

How can I spend so much for non-needs when millions have no ways of fulfilling basic needs?

Yes, I feel guilty of being not able to change the reality around – as I would have liked!

I guess I will have to live with this guilt forever! 

141. Raamaleelaa Maidaana: 28 August 2011

Year: 1987. Place: RaaLegaNa Siddhee, a small village in Maharashtra. Even then Shree ANNaa Hajare was very famous, though not surrounded by media – like he is today. During this year I had  opportunity to meet ANNaa many times. We wanted to organize a Youth Camp in his village. I went to RaaLegaNa for getting permission, then couple of visits for the preparation of the camp and then stayed there for eight days along with the youth participants. I met ANNaa a number of times during that period. He was in RaaLegaNa during that week. Everyday he used to interact with the participants for an hour or so. He was always there – around us, and even when we had a trivial problem he was there for us. I could go to him anytime and talk at leisure. He was soft, kind, never raising his voice and never looking irritated. He always listened to people with calm and peace. He did not carry the aura of “I know All’ or “I have done lot of work” – which would have been obvious for him given his name and fame then. However at the same time he unmistakably conveyed that he was not the kind of man to easily surrender, he was not the one who feared obstacles.

We stayed in RaaLegaNa like pampered children. Actually we were so young and had not done anything substantial in life, but ANNaa looked after us. He won the hearts of all youngsters in our camp by his simplicity, his renunciation, his softness and his work. Generally I do not touch anyone’s feet, but as I remember, while leaving RaaLegaNa, I saluted ANNaa in traditional way.

*****

Year: 2011. Place: New Delhi. It is morning of Sunday, 28^th August. Naturally, the attention of the entire nation is here today. Media has already brought the news to the nooks and corners that ANNaa Hajaare is breaking his fast at 10.00. The crowd wants to observe this historic moment as closely as possible. In the search of front rows, people have gathered very early here in Raamaleelaa Maidaana. Last Saturday, I had spent about half in hour in queue, to avoid it; I am here very early in the morning.

New Delhi Metro Station is not much crowded – not as I expected. There are people – mainly passengers reaching Delhi. Outside the station, in Kamala Market area, city buses are ready to go. New passengers have a confused look about which bus to take. The scene is like any other railway station in any other city on a normal day. For a moment I think that I have alighted down at a wrong metro station. But next moment, I see young children and women selling Gandhi topee and tri-color in various shapes and sizes. They are aware that ANNaa is going to break fast; they are in a hurry to sell whatever stock they have. The road is full of food vendors. If someone does not know about India Against Corruption (IAC) campaign, one would be tempted to think that there is some kind of political rally.

Last Saturday, I had to be in queue for about half an hour, so even though it is Sunday, I have reached here rather early.  Fortunately I enter the venue just within five minutes. Half of the ground is still muddy. So when I read next day the crowd estimates, I realize how media exaggerates – in good moments as well as in bad moments. Only when one is physically present during such events, one can understand the exaggeration.

Raamaleelaa ground is large enough- so even when it is half filled at eight in the morning, I am sure there are thousands of people. When I am trying to find a spot, I am told that there is a separate sitting arrangement for women. I think this arrangement would save me from being pushed by men in the crowd – however when ANNaa appears on the stage, the crowd erupts with emotions and the bamboo barricade between men’s section and women’s section is brought down and I have to face the pulls and pushes of the crowd. But it is to happen about an hour later.

The atmosphere is highly charged with patriotic emotions. Patriotic songs, slogans and the tri color make it very exciting. Volunteers are at their best initially – if someone stands, they immediately approach and request the person to sit down. The crowd seems to be self-disciplined at the beginning. But now a days people are not used to 'cross legged' sitting. So around nine, people start to express their restlessness. When the television cameras move towards crowds; all the discipline disappears within a moment. The next hour is to show me how women and men crave for ‘two minute’s fame’. The way women push each other (I am sure men did the same too) to capture the attention of cameramen, is disgusting. They are dancing, shouting slogans and trying to speak in the microphone. When the drinking water pouch (of course free) arrives on the scene, it almost creates a stampede. Whatever maybe the event, people cannot easily overcome their selfishness. It was only the beginning of the madness of the crowds.

When Anna appears on the stage; the crowd becomes uncontrollable. It is a moment which tells me that ‘Jana Sansada’ (Parliament of People) would be as good and bad as ‘Sansada’ (Parliament of elected representatives). Some of us are trying to tell others, “Please, sit down, from this distance we cannot see Anna clearly, but if we all sit down, we can at least have a glimpse of the stage”- but to no avail. The crowd exhibits typical Indian mentality – ‘if she is not sitting down, why should I?’ – is the question every one of them asks. Nobody realizes that we need to  follow rules even when others are not following, we need to set example, and we need to do certain things not because others demand but because we believe in it as core value of life. Even if strong Lokpal bill is passed, there is no guarantee that such people would not bribe and try to get undue benefits. While watching the people around, I felt extremely desolated.

Mr. Arvind Kejariwal begins his speech by ‘thanks giving’. In the last few months, I have read a lot about him and I am eager to listen to him. However, I am completely disillusioned. I mean even if I don’t like I can understand ‘Thanking Media’. But when Mr. Kejariwal said: “We thank Delhi Police. Some of them were on duty in uniform during the day and the in the evening after their duty was over, they joined us.” (Not exactly in these words, but meaning almost the same). I think Mr. Kejariwal is bit immature in declaring this. I hope those police personnel do not have to face internal inquiry!

Everybody seems to have forgotten those 30 persons who are also fasting at Raamaleelaa with ANNaa. Leave informing the crowds about the names of these 30 persons and appreciating them – at the last moment they are mentioned collectively and hurriedly (my guess is it happened when someone reminded Mr. Kejariwal about them). It is said that heroes are forgotten by later generations, but here they are invisible even in the present. The clarification that “we never said all political leaders are bad’ is amusing. That the IAC team had shared the stage on the earlier evening with few political leaders gave a clear signal about the change of mind of IAC team.

Mr. Kejariwal appeals the crowds to ‘gather at India Gate in the evening to celebrate’ – I am smiling at that. What victory? Whose victory? I think Mr. Kejariwal declared this due to the habit of last 11 days. Otherwise both Mr. Kejariwal and Ms. Bedi know fully well how the power circle in Delhi works. If I say that they do not understand the meaning of process in the last 4-5 days, I would doubt their intellectual capacity.

The crowds are mostly relieved that ANNaa is finally breaking fast. I wish colleagues of ANNaa had the opportunity to listen to the voices of the crowds. Amongst themselves people are discussing the whole issue and the common feeling expressed and agreed to is: Good that ANNaa finally is breaking his fast. Otherwise the ambitious people around him might have killed him. One person even said,” It is good that ANNaa finally realized that whether Lokpal bill is passed or not; there is no point in giving life for phaltu (useless) people like us.” Actually I feel that the issue of corruption, Lokpal are not on people’ mind there – there is only concern about ANNaa’s health. Some people are happy to find out that ANNaa is speaking with youth like energy and others are surprised at that.

For ANNaa’s ‘break fast’ two young girls – Simarn and Ikrah are invited on the stage. Mr. Kejariwal takes pains to tell Media that Simarn comes from Dalit family and Ikrah lives in Turkman Gate area in Delhi (meaning: she is Muslim). I am aghast that the IAC campaign is ‘using’ seven year innocent kids in this way. Till then I had known only politicians using caste and religion as identities to show their ‘mass base’. Do these kids know:  what is corruption? What is Parliament? What is a Bill? What is Jan Lokpal? They are too young to know and they are not responsible for the mess created by adults in the society. Mentioning Dr. Ambedkar to reach out to Dalit communities is again a political trick. Does IAC mean that Dr. Ambedkar belongs only to Dalits? Let us stop assuming that Dalit are fools and they can be made happy by just mentioning Dr. Ambedkar’s name! During that morning I see an illustration of how people (movements, campaigns) compromise when they try to establish claims of representation and numbers!

The crowd is so chaotic that neither the volunteers nor Mr. Kejariwal can control it. Mr. Kejariwal has to say: “If you do not keep quiet, ANNaa will continue his fast. He was fasting for last many days; he can fast for few more hours.” The statement shows how helpless Mr. Kejariwal is and what kind of ‘supporters’ have gathered there! So, some people do not capture the moment of ANNaa breaking his fast. Even after ANNaa’s speech is over, people are asking, “but when is he going to break his fast?”

ANNaa’s speech is extensively covered by Media, so I am not going to repeat it here. While ANNaa is speaking crowds are moving out of the pendal and they are replaced by new groups coming in. Some of those who are moving out , are turning to queues – one for ANNaa kee Rasoi (where free food is distributed) and other for ANNaa kee mupht chai (where free tea is distributed). I am wondering about the idea – when masses are coming to support ‘fasting for cause’, what is the point in providing ‘free tea and food’ for them? These supporters are not interested in the next steps of the campaign, the future direction and strategies of the movement. They are engaged in slogans –the louder, the better! I see most people – either slogan-ing, on their mobile phones, weaving tri-color, talking with friends, taking snaps – I wonder who is listening to ANNaa. I am pushed backward by the crowd and by the time ANNaa finishes his speech I am at the rear end of the pendal.

I realize that ANNaa did not say ‘Vande Maataram’ even once in his speech. During his Jantar Mantar fast in April, one evening I met a group of Muslim youths who were chanting Vande Maataram. I spoke to the group about it and they said,” Hama bhee to isa mittee se pale hue hai” (we too are brought up by this land!) – I still remember their fervor and their conviction. Equating Vande Maataram with a group of Hindus and avoiding to say Vande Maatarm to appease other group – is it a good strategy? By such act, we are pushing youths in the control of religious fanaticism- which is equally dangerous as corruption. In this way, the youth enthusiasm will die even before it strengthens.

******

Whether the person I met in RaaLegaNa Siddhee twenty five years ago is the same? Or has ANNaa changed – I keep on asking myself. In some ways, he remains unchanged. Simple, soft speaking, determined, naïve, ready to renounce his comforts (and his life in this case) for others, facing opposition with sternness. These are ANNaa’s qualities – many of us revere him for that. I find no reason to disagree.

However, there is also 'other' ANNaa emerging. Surrounded by the camera, away from people, the man sitting on the stage seems different. ANNaa: who accepts ‘I am ANNaa’ printed on caps and T shirts; who allows his photograph to be printed in the middle of tri-color on T Shirts; who calmly listens to the song eulogizing him; who is sharing stage with people who are accused of corruption (I know they were representing government, so what?); once he used to speak a lot about how he was inspired by Swami Vivekananda – today he does not mention him. Why? I feel that this ANNaa in the midst of thousands of people is a strange person, I do not know him. Whatever relationship I had with him and with his cause, and which I had nurtured, is destroyed in a moment. I feel completely away from him.   

I need to go to RaaLegaNa again. In 1987 I asked him many questions; I would ask him all these questions again. I hope as in 1987, he would answer me calmly, thoughtfully and with smile. Before this dialogue happens, I should not change my opinion about ANNaa. The person is at her/his best where s/he is rooted. Raamaleelaa Maidaana and the crowds are not the best times and place to find that old ANNaa again!

 **

135. Shoe-Watch

I realize that I am on ‘Shoe-Watch’ mode once again.

No, I have not changed my occupation. I was never in the ‘shoe’ business; nor do I see it happening in either near or distant future.

Then what am I talking about?

During the last few months, I have been out of Delhi many times. Every time I return and every time I take a Metro to reach office after the gap, I realize that I am engrossed in ‘Shoe- Watch’.

I know: it still does not make any sense.

Why do I watch shoes? Am I obsessed about shoes?

Let me explain.

When in Delhi, I take Metro to reach office and for coming back home. Metro is good: it saves time; it is less crowded; it is clean; it is not very expensive and all that. The most important part is the first coach of Delhi Metro is reserved for women.  That makes travel less irritating, much comfortable.

The Metro line I daily (well almost daily!) use is an underground Metro line. Once I enter into the Metro station, I am completely disconnected from the sky. As the Metro is fully AC, the doors and windows are closed – except that the doors open wide in the station.

So, while traveling by Metro, I get caught in the limited space. No sky, no trees, no buildings, only darkness outside. I feel completely uprooted, empty. I need some activity to fill the vacuum within me. But one cannot do any activity here except watching. When my eyes wander here and there, they certainly fall on some woman’s face. It is disgusting to be noticed when I am watching someone without purpose, without knowledge, without any real interest.

For everyone it is an awkward moment. There are different responses. Some women smile as they are involved in the exactly similar act – they too are watching me without purpose, without knowing, without interest. However, some women feel irritated, which is natural. It is in a way trespassing their privacy. Some women get angry. Some women start listening to music, speaking to someone on mobile. Some talk loudly with their friends, colleagues sitting or standing next to them. Some women become more conscious; some women ignore; some women stare back as if challenging me. Some politely open conversation.

Some women are wise; they look at me and close their eyes without  any expression. They treat me as if I do not exist. I am sure, I too respond in all these different ways in different situations!  Well, that is one of the best option I too have - to close eyes. I can take a nap if I want. If I don’t want that, I always have so many moments to remember, to re-live. I have so many ideas to give more thought to, to plan their expression. I have things to remember and things to forget.

But somehow I close eyes only to open. With every announcement (and there are too many) I open eyes. I close eyes and open them again; I open eyes and close them again. I cannot relax completely. I don’t like to use earphone for listening music. I do not know anyone with whom I can go on talking for half an hour on Metro. I don’t make or receive calls (unless absolutely necessary) when I am amongst strangers – I like to keep my world to myself. So, closing and opening of eyes goes on endlessly – again attracting attention.

What do I see with open eyes? As I said earlier, there is nothing to see outside and I need to avoid watching faces. So, as a last resort I have developed a habit – I watch shoes. Generally women around me don’t understand that I am watching their shoes – because in one glance I can cover a range of shoes.

Let me tell you, that is an amazing world – the world of shoes! They come in different sizes, colors, styles, designs; they are made of different materials and have different personalities. There are sandals, floaters, chappals. There are some with single strap, some with cross straps, some with double strap and so on.  Each one of them expresses something – not about itself but about its owner. I look at the shoes without looking at the face and imagine how this particular woman would be – and funnily when I look at the woman, my guess about her outward personality is almost right. It is certainly fun to imagine about a person wearing pink shoes or zebra stripes or blue bordered red shoes. It is not just imagination but a combination of logic, experience and imagination. Even the shoe lace speaks volumes about the person (how tight it is tied, what is its length etc.) – that is what I have learnt.

The ‘shoe-watch’ is no more an awkward habit for me; I no more feel guilty about it, nor do I get bored by it. Shoe-Watch is a topic of entertainment, and silent learning. It is a world without words. The experience gets synthesized (without words), and makes way for new hypothesis, observations, and inferences! The cycle continues… the challenges provoke and keep me awake and connected.

It is amazing that when we are forced in a certain situation how our mind finds out moments of happiness and creates its own space within the limited space. The mind creates its own world even when the walls are limiting the view. Mind has the capacity to rebuild from what is given, to interpret anew. It has a capacity to find meaning in apparently meaningless life.

Every time we fear that there is no alternative, we just need to change our intent and the whole new world emerges – even when all the external aspects remain the same! The same ‘shoes’ will not interest us forever, the purpose will of course change from time to time- but does not matter until we enjoy and grow.
*