Intimate Impressions of the People and the Place: Bengal/Burdwan

When I was a child, books were my window to the world outside. Books take you to places you have never been and show them in different perspectives through the eyes of the writer. The same happened to me about Bengal. I was always fond of reading and soon I took liking for the novels of Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay. I devoured his books fast, albeit their Hindi translated versions. I found his stories intriguing, most of which were about love and loss, and I was deeply moved with human emotions woven around. His portrayal of relationships was unmatched and his characters, especially women in the plot stood out that you found in any other novels. They were selfless and often deeply in love, and yet they had a strong sense of independence and self-respect. All these stories were set up in villages and towns of Bengal which provided a perfect background setting to the plot.

            This was my first impression of Bengal, the Bengal of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century when it was still a pioneer in India and Kolkata was still the capital of the British Raj. I was born and brought up in Uttar Pradesh and stayed there during initial years but I was always fascinated by the mystic land of Bengal.As I grew up, I learned about other icons of Bengal, about the freedom fighters and revolutionaries, about Tagore and his influence on overall culture of this land and many other great things about this land.

            Of places in Bengal, I knew only about Kolkata. The image of Howrah Bridge, Victoria Memorial and Maidan represented this metropolitan. A good number of Bengalis stayed in our town and I often went to visit Durga Puja in Bengali habitations which were celebrated with full enthusiasm. Despite these impressions, I did not get an opportunity to see this place with my own eyes.

            A dream is a dream and when I entered IIT Kanpur from where I did my engineering, the image of this place was not so perfect in my mind. I had started following national affairs with keen interest and the outside world was not very kind toWest Bengal. The place had earned a bad name due to bandhs/strikes when all life came to standstill. There were horror stories of how trains were kept standing at the same place for hours and hours and there were kids playing cricket on otherwise busy Howrah Bridge and Kolkata by lanes. The globalisation was taking States of India on road to development and it appeared that West Bengal was not moving with the same pace as rest of India was. It was known as a place where development had come to a grinding halt. Kolkata had long lost its place to Bombay in being the economical capital of India. As a person who was in a way infatuated with the past image of Bengal, I felt sad.

            After passing out from IIT Kanpur I started working at a multinational firm. The pay package was fine but soon I got disenchanted with lack of motivation to excel in private sector. I wanted to create a difference, howsoever small and soon it was clear that private sector is not a place for that. I decided to take Indian Administrative Service (IAS) exam.    I worked very hard and finally got selected in this exam.Officers in IAS are allocated states (cadres) where they are supposed towork for rest of their lives. In a way, the cadres allocated become their actual homeswhere most of the officers end up spending rest of their lives. As fate would have it, I was allocated West Bengal cadre!

            West Bengal had a pretty bad name as a cadre and our colleagues made fun of us for being allocated to West Bengal. There were hundreds of stories of gloom and West Bengal was a place where officers were not allowed to do any work. It also had a name for having the worst work culture, where drivers threw key on your face at 5’o clock in the evening and no one listened to you or worked. There was fear of impending gloom in our lives.

            I started my training at Administrative Training Institute Kolkata. Infrastructure here needed improvement, Ambassador Taxis gave an impression of an era gone by but, somehow, I did not feel bad. All this had a kind of old world charm, a world where many things other than money also mattered in life. This place had a flavour of its own and I went along. Of the various things told about West Bengal, I still remember what was told to us about the uniqueness of Bengal. India is primarily a landmass that stretch from Himalayas range in North till the sea in South and only West Bengal had distinction of having both,the Himalayas and the sea.

            My district training was at Bankura and this was my first interaction with Bengal. Bankura stint is personally dear to me as I got married here and also, we set up our first independent house at Raipur block when I held the charge of BDO for four months. The place was Maoist infested, underdeveloped and no one spoke a word that was not in Bengali. I picked up Bengali faster than my batch mates because there was no other alternative to survive in this place. In this place, I learnt the indispensability of mosquito net. Our private joke was that without a mosquito net, if you do not fall prey to malaria, you can be sure of anaemia at least. Snakes were another common feature of this place that came and went by. They had more claim on that compound than we had.And then, there was these millions and millions of ants who appeared unannounced, made large black patters on the wall and vanished as fast as they had arrived.

Life was different but people there ensured that we had no discomfort. They took extra effort to get whatever we needed. When I got my farewell there, I found people crying, and there was a lump in my throat, something that I have not been able to avoid in all subsequent farewells. This was the place that turned me into an officer from a young inexperienced trainee.

            After that, my first posting as an SDO was at Alipurduar. North Bengal is beautiful beyond words and I had to  travel to Jalpaigudi that was the then district headquarter from Alipurduar and in that three-hour road journey, lovely mountain ranges of Bhutan  accompanied me on the highway. Some days, we could spot wild elephants on the road and they would disappear as discreetly as they had arrived. SDO Alipurduar had a beautiful bungalow with a lovely balcony. When it rained, it poured for days on and on and we just sat there and watched the incessant rains. During nights, the entire garden was lit up by thousands of fireflies and one has to witness it to believe how majestic it looks.

            My next five years were spent in Kolkata in three different stints and I totally fell in love with that city. Kolkata grows upon you and once have stayed there for long enough, you find it hard to adjust to any other place. Now, I can appreciate why Kolkatans find it hard to work in any other city. Kolkata was also the place where I started enjoying the cultural life of Bengal. I got introduced to plays that took place in different auditoriums of Kolkata. I watched the likes of Naseeruddin Shah, Paresh Raval and Anupam Kher perform. The majestic beauty of listening to Hariprasad Chaurasia and Pandit Shiv Kumar Sharma on the banks of Hoogly at Princep Ghat is a memory that we will cherish for a lifetime. I also witnessed cricket matches at the famed Eden Gardens. Eating out on Park street and visiting the Oxford book store were always our favourite past times.

            In IAS, the most prominent job that one gets is that of a District Magistrate and I got my first posting at Darjeeling.It is and has always been a complicated place but not many hill stations in our country can claim to be as beautiful as Darjeeling. I had stayed at Mussoorie before during our IAS training but I found Darjeeling much more beautiful that it. All our weekends, we had an option to stay out at any exotic location and each place turned out to be more beautiful that all that we had previously seen. I was fortunate that Darjeeling remained peaceful during my tenure and we could enjoy the place and its beauty. Some of the tea garden bungalows we stayed at turned out to be more beautiful places that the best five-star hotels I had seen.

During my stint, Kalimpong district was carved out of Darjeeling and after nearly two years, I was posted as District Magistrate of Burdwan district. Again, I had to bifurcate Burdwan, into Purba Bardhaman and Paschim Bardhaman and till date I hold the distinction of being the only District Magistrate to have bifurcated two districts.

My posting is Burdwan was sort of my coming back to the real Bengal. Burdwan always had a prominent place in West Bengal. This place has lush green fields spread across the district. Three major rivers, Damodar, Bhagirathi and Ajoy flow across it and keep the land fertile. The place has excellent rail connectivity and is a prominent town on Grand Trunk Road. It has everything that any perfect human habitation needed; fertile land, water source, moderate climate and good connectivity. It has rich culture and history and this place was the perfect rural setting of Bengal that I had read about in the novels of Sarat Chandra and Tagore.

            After bifurcation of Burdwan, Purba Bardhaman became primarily an agricultural district with a rich cultural heritage. This place still is the rice bowl of West Bengal and out of the total paddy procurement of the state, Purba Bardhaman supplies major share. Farmers of Burdwan owing to the fertility of land, unlike that of many other places are comparatively well to do. Burdwan town is big enough to have all modern amenities yet it has a flavour of small countryside towns. Burdwan Raj, ruled by efficient Mahtabs, had a major contribution in the development of this place and their insignia and other symbols are still present all over the place. Till today, Curzon Gate built by the Mahtab’s is the most recognised symbol of Burdwan town. Burdwan Raj also took special interest in education and Raj college is one of the oldest colleges of Burdwan. Burdwan University has been set up on the buildings and land donated by them.

Another distinct feature of this place is fame of its sweets. People all across India know about sweets of Burdwan and this time when I went back to my hometown Kanpur, everyone demanded sweets from this place. Mihidana of Burdwan has already acquired Geographical Indiactor(GI) tag and soon Sitabhog and Langchawhich are other specialities of this place should acquire the same. In UP, there are some wonderful sweets but back here, sweets are less heavy, have less sugar and yet they taste better. This is probably the speciality of sweets of this place. I have stopped consuming ‘Chena’ back home as my standards have been significantly enhanced.

After a long time, I stayed over at Durga Pujo and I witnessed the festivities closely for the first time. It would be injustice to this place if I do not describe it. DurgaPujo or let me be correct technically, Pujo is an event that Bengalis wait for entire year. A year can be divided in two parts, ten-twelve days of Pujo and other days which lead to it. All events are described if they happened before Pujo or after. If you realise that crowds have multiplied many times in the market, it is taking infinitely long time for the tailor to stich your suit and queue at the hairdresser has increased, Pujo is at doorsteps. 

 Human creativity can be seen at best during Pujo. Every year you get amazed by the creativity of Pujo pandals and the world they capture in it, and again next time year you find pandals have surpassed what they achieved a year ago. Somewhere there are Angkorvat temples, at other place kingdom of Mahismati from Bahubali movie has been created and at another pandal you are inside an aquarium with beautiful aquatic animals surrounding you.

More than the pandal, you get impressed by the Durga idol, or Thakur. One has to love goddess from all heart to imagine her in various moods/colours. The innovativeness of Thakur has to be seen by one’s own eyes to be believed. People wait in queue for hours to visit these pandals and the city comes to life for the whole night. 

The uniqueness of the Pujo also lies in the fact that it is festival that you celebrate with community. Lakhs of small neighbourhood Pujos are celebrated and you see the spirit of community in it. For days, everyone eats together from a common kitchen. For many it may come as a surprise that fish and meat often form a part of the Bhog, which is a complete meal in itself and occasional boozing is not frowned upon. Women of the family manage Kitchen and organise events/competitions and kids have a blast. Men sit together chit chatting, watching and coordinating and there is dance and music all around. Bengalis are also rich culturally and Pujo festivities is a reminder to that. Everyone can either sing, dance or recite. People of all religion staying in the neighbourhood participate in the Pujo and join hands in organising it.

If you still find it difficult to get a feel of it, imagine a wedding of your close relative where all of your friends and family gather. You meet people with whom you grew up and catch up with everything that happened during this time. Women of the house dress in their best clothes and jewellery and kids run riot with distant cousins. Entire neighbourhood becomes a big family during that time and those three four days are complete bliss to be remembered for a lifetime. Now swallow it, Bengalis get to celebrate that same wedding every single year. 

Bengali women are more liberated than their counterparts in many other parts of the country and you can sense it with their involvement in Pujo. They look stunning in their sarees which they drape with élan and elegance. Everyone is in their best dresses and people get different new attires for different days. After Pujos, it is an uphill task for many to back to their mundane lives, something of the sort that we felt when schools opened after summer holidays. I never thought that Pujas of this magnitude would take place in Burdwan town and I fortunate that I was here during Puja festivities.

Various other developmental activities have been planned in and around Burdwan. A new Rail Over Bridge is coming up near Railway station that will significantly reduce the congestion of Burdwan town.Many road widening projects are being taken up out of which GT road widening in the town is worth mentioning.Mati Tirtha has been developed at Mati Mela ground by the government and every year and aseven-day long Mati Mela is organisedat this place. During this period, award winning farmers from entire state are felicitated from this place. To promote unique sweets, a Misti Hub has been constructed.

Government is also giving a lot of thrust on development of Tourism. This place is full of historical importance and various historical buildings are being renovated and made accessible to the tourists. Watching birds in country boats at ‘Chupi’ lake at Purbastahali would compete even with Dal Lake of Kashmir. This place has immense potential for religious tourism as Chaitanya Mahaprabhu had strong connection with this place and temples relating to this sect are spread all across.

Such developmental activities are being taken up not only in Burdwan but across West Bengal. The plan expenditure of the State Government has multiplied by almost four times during the last six years. Various new schemes like Kanyashree, SaboojSaathi, Shiksha Sree etc have bene launched by the Government. All this has resulted in significant socio-economic development and West Bengal has again found its feet back on development. In almost all centrally sponsored government schemes, West Bengal is doing much better that most other states.

Having been in this place for last ten years, I not repented being here for a single day. There is something in the people; there is something in this land which I still find mesmerising. In fact, I now feel more at home in West Bengal than in my home state UP. I feel both Burdwan and West Bengal are places where a lot of potential still exists and once it is utilized, these places will be no less than any other place in the world. Well begun is half done and last six years have proved it.

 I might not have been born in this place but whenever I think about this land, I am reminded of these lines by Dwijendralal Ray:

ধন ধান্য পুষ্প ভরা, আমাদের এই বসুন্ধরা,
তাহার মাঝে আছে দেশ এক সকল দেশের সেরা,
ওসে স্বপ্ন দিয়ে তৈরী সেদেশ স্মৃতি দিয়ে ঘেরা।
এমন দেশটি কোথাও খুঁজে পাবে নাকো তুমি,
সকল দেশের রানী সেযে আমার জন্মভূমি,

Fields of golden grains, meadows of fragrant flowers,

Two delights from earth of her many natural treasures,

Nestled within is a place divine set far above all measures,

Created from dreams anchored by memories,

Nowhere else a place of such luminous glories,

This the Queen of all lands on earth,

This the land of my birth, the hallowed land of my birth,

The True Call

Not many people find their true calling in life. Few lucky ones know this from beginning itself, some pick it up as they move along in life but most bid farewell to this world without ever realising their true call. As years passed, I felt I belonged to the last category of men who never discover true joy in life.

The bane of being born in middle class is one has to find assurance of true meal before venturing in any kind of true call. Once I managed on that count, I tried to look for purpose in life but can true calling be thrust upon? There was no meaning in life and just when I was about to lose interest in this world, I found why I was gifted to mankind.

While browsing one day, I saw an online poll on a news website that asked:

Do you think, it is time for India to attack Pakistan?
a. Yes
b. No
c. Can’t Say

I was thrilled and got goose bumps reading that. My wife doesn’t even ask if it was time to make me eat Bottle Gourd for nth time and here I was being asked to decide a question as important as that. If given a task of my choice, there is no other person who can do it with more seriousness. Not only that, I also ensure it has my unique mark.

I guessed hot headed morons would be voting for Yes so that out. Then I thought about the ‘No’ but dreaded losing my Nationalist certificate and imagined likes of Arnab Goswami screaming #PeaceDove and #Coward. After mulling a long time, I voted Can’t Say and was satisfied. I also realised my answer matched with what Government was doing at this time.

I give more than 100% so I continued to caste this vote from different devices and browsers. After a night’s hard work, results looked like Yes 12%, No 5%, and Can’t Say out shined them by 83%. For some strange reason, results were soon deleted from their website.

I never looked back after that. Life was full of possibilities and I scouted for online questions. I had a role in destiny of mankind. There were masquerades trying to pass off their views as online questions but I was honest to my call. These biased channels thought that there can be only one answer when they ask:

Is there no option but to reopen corruption cases of the earlier regime?
a. Yes
b. No
c. Can’t say

I can take a joke on myself but I cannot let anyone play with democratic ideals. This was a leading question and Yes and No led to the same conclusion. To outwit them I had no choice but to vote for third option n number of times. Again ‘Can’t Say’ led by big margin and news channel would have thought many times before posing again a similar question.

After my crusade, ‘Can’t Say’ option started feeling much more confident. Is it not true that we don’t know about most things in life? My influence knew no bounds and I learnt this when they slowly did away with Can’t Say option. Their next one was:

Do you believe corrupt should be punished this time?
a. Yes
b. No

They would have thought that there can only be one answer but I answered no this time. My humble point is guilty should be punished every time and not only this time. I wanted to vote for question is wrong but that was not an option.

I slept peacefully but results changed by the time I woke up in morning. That day I learnt voting in online polls was true calling of thousand others who could not find a better work in life. I also discovered world is jealous of those who discover their true call. Many websites blocked my IP address to prevent me from voting further. These are tough times but as of now proxy browsers are doing the job.

I also feel that since world would have witnessed changes of unimaginable proportions after hearing my opinion on so many counts, it is time to look for a new calling!

Absolute Triumph of Idiocy!

Some things are beyond language!

You always felt it deep inside but couldn’t understand its full impact. In fact, great scientists failed to decipher it. Today we are talking about the absolute triumph of Idiocy, and that of dear idiots all around. This article is a humble ode although no words can do perfect justice to this amazing quality.

• 1.    Unpredictability: Men thought that all problems can be solved by supercomputers. It can make myriad calculations in Nano seconds and predict behaviour/outcome of any event. Only one quality defeated supercomputers and that was idiocy. Even the best supercomputers fail to predict an idiot and as their random behaviour has no pattern. Dealing with an intelligent person war far simpler and supercomputers were willing to be called an idiot rather than trying to understand idiocy.
• 2.     Omnipresence: It is the only quality on this earth that is truly omnipresent. It surpasses the artificial boundaries of nationality, religion, caste or creed and is spread evenly across rich/poor, young/old and beautiful/ugly. If there is any place where mankind exists, rest assured you will find idiots.   
• 3.     Numerical Superiority: The only thing that matters in this world is the numbers and idiots by far outnumber intelligent people. Idiots also never feel lonely as they always find company. They have unimaginable numerical superiority and in a democracy, they also choose the public representatives hence all elected representatives are especially sensitive to idiocy.   
• 4.     Social media compatibility: This is the digital age and all social media platforms are idiocy compatible. They have features especially suited to idiots and their entire architecture is based on it. People livestream idiocy and new people keep on learning from it. Different options are provided to spread it through pictures/status updates/tweets and no so social media platform can ignore this need to spread idiocy.
• 5.     Unimaginable Variety: The variety of idiots in this world exceeds the number of living species. There are idiots of zillion varieties and till today new idiots are beings located at astounding pace. Take an idiot of any field be it politics, religion or social butterflies and for every idiot on this earth, equal and opposite idiot exists.
• 6.     Tailor made for Lovers: Anyone who has ever fallen in love will vouch for this. When a person is in love, she/he happily does what is idiotic, love’s default mode is idiocy. For all intelligent snobs behaving haughtily, the probability of idiots finding love is disproportionately high. You now know the reason why you are or aren’t with the hottest person in town.   
• 7.     No Medicine Can Tame it: All artificial attempts to turn an idiot into intelligent have failed through the ages. You might swallow Almonds for all your life or drink ‘Shankh Pushpi’ but one can never get rid of idiocy. Even attempts to sharpen brain by playing Sudoku have failed miserable. For the idiots of this world only, Bollywood invented the saying ‘अब इन्हें दवा की नहीं, दुआ की ज़रुरत है’.
• 8.     Always on display: The favourite contest of this world is ‘See, I am an idiot’. The competition for deciding the winner is fiery.  Just look around and people find new ways to display it. The easiest example is English news channels in the guise of nation needing to know something. In reality, nation relishes watching idiocy; high TRP of such channels is a testimony to it. Entire market research of big companies is dedicated on making people more idiotic.
• 9.     None of us could escape is: Idiocy has proved to be more infectious that any bacteria or virus and spreads with ease. Entire societies get afflicted by different sorts of idiocy daily. No person on this earth could claim to have totally escaped it. It also has a hibernating quality and can appear after ages even in most intelligent people. In fact, it can co-exist and the sharpest person can be idiotic at the same time.   
• 10.  Happiness and Idiocy: Research has proved there is a deep correlation between being an idiot and being happy. An intelligent person worries about so many things and always finds a reason to be disappointed, an idiot is happy with a silver lining. In fact, an idiot is just happy. Now you know why ignorance is bliss.
• 11.   The Paradox of Idiocy: One can never understand all this and enjoy it at the same time. Once a person realises she/he has been an idiot, they further can’t be. This is the paradox of idiocy, you can only enjoy it only if you do not realise it. After that you can only envy!
• PS: In case you find this offensive, let the world know at your own risk :P

Eleven ways to Express Love: Indian Style

When men were moving in wilderness in other places, we had a thriving civilisation in place. Ours was and is a land of glory and riches, and that of being perfect in almost everything. We do not need to copy anyone and we do not need Valentine’s day, Father’s Day or Friendship Day etc to express love. We have other unique ways to express it:

• 1.    Choosing career for the kids: We believe that once a child, always a child. Choice of career is very important in anyone’s life and such a decision cannot be left to the kids. Interest, liking and such other things are too western a concept to find any utility. We always worry about our children hence we do not give them the trouble of deciding careers and most other things.
• 2.     Fixing marriages:  Parents love their children and so do relatives. When such is the case, can they not lend support in fixing marriages. Spouse plays the most important role in anyone’s life and entire family has to vet it. For a perfect match factors like caste, horoscope and dowry have to be favourable and such a complicated issue cannot be left to the kids.  Love can always wait, and union of any male and female can make babies which is the primary objective of any marriage.
• 3.     Girls have a special place:  We love our girls so much that we bestow on them the name and fame of our family. In fact, they are our bet whenever there is ‘honour test’ of any family. Most of our girls conform and in some erring cases there are honour killings but for honour purposes strictly. No men can have this privilege of defining honour of the family and have you ever heard a man being killed for saving honour of the family.
• 4.     Romance in Desi style: This is a concept we deeply feel about and Bollywood movies have amply demonstrated it. The person who we love may not know it for a long time. Stalking/ abuse is just a technique to dig out love hidden deep within. One may give threats of suicide, bleed or occasionally throw acid, but it is just to express love and sincerity.
• 5.     Love for Partner/Spouse: In case one already has a spouse/partner, being possessive is the love test put to use. do. We love them so much that we almost feel they are our own, as good as our own property. Emotional blackmail is a legitimate form of love disguised as a blackmail.
• 6.     Propagate superstitions: There is deep knowledge which is propagated in closed groups of society. Those westernised may call it superstition but it is our intellectual property and we ensure that all those we love know about it. We know Horoscope can find solution for all problems, cats are bad omen and evil eye is root cause of illness. You can also get rid of Manglik dosh by marrying tree as a famous actress did. Everything doesn’t need a scientific basis and you question love while questioning it.  
• 7.     Internalising Prejudices: These are collective heritage of our families, caste and society. We pass it on to all those we love and impart them good training in prejudices. As in case of other things, questioning these is questioning our love and our collective heritage.
• 8.     Our Great Nation will always be Great: Our nation is perfect and has always been so. There are many scientific advances that world is making now but our sages of old times had done it in old ages. You can read in in our religious texts, or easily google them through internet. We have contribution in everything good that happened to humanity. We are so liberal that we welcomed all with open arms and we are so tolerant that our blood boils when anyone disagrees. We break their bones to prove our point.
• 9.  Respect for culture, language and our religion: We have deep respect and love for our culture, language and our religion. In fact, anything associated with us is only worth glorifying.  We often express our love by getting outraged at books/social media post or statements made by XYZ in Honululu. We are emotional people and show our respect by burning books, blocking movies and sometimes through maiming/lynching.
• 10.  Forwarding General Gyan/WhatsApp Messages: This is a new trend observed in extended families. We want all those we love to be empowered and knowledgeable so we express our love by forwarding messages. Love cannot be guarded and since we love wholeheartedly, there is absolutely no need to check or verify messages before forwarding. We also express our love by forwarding hate messages.
• 11.  Making people Eat: If we want to express our love, we make people eat. Satisfaction of guests is measured by consumption of fats and calories and true love is reflected on the surface tension of their tummies. Eating is so dear to us that we ensure all our countrymen are eating righteously. At times, we do sample checks in the form of mob vigilantes and verify what others are eating. In case, they aren’t on the right side, we express our love differently.  

PS: Just in case one is sarcastically challenged, this is satire. I DO NOT endorse any of these 

I am a Dead Man!

The water is cold at this place.   

River flows in its rhythm, fast at places and then in a playful mood. I remain beneath the water, hardly moving from my place. The water is not of bluish tinge as you would imagine, its colour resembles mother earth; or mud to be precise. There are small ripples in between where water dances in joy but everything slowly flows, as if everything is at peace and tranquil.

He threw me, or what remained in the end, into the river but I did not get far. I settled around the bank where many others lied; for years and centuries. The place is cluttered with many small pieces of burnt bones and ashes but I feel lonely. There is no one to listen to my stories. Perhaps loneliness is death; or this silence; or when everything stands still.  

My son did his best to throw me far but he is a frail boy. He is tall and somewhat thin and is not at all as smart as I wished him to be. He does resemble me when he smiles but he often doesn’t do it in front of me. I have seen him laughing aloud with his friends with whom he would spend hours idling. Yesterday too he was with them when he heard the news. He wept like a child and they consoled him. Some of them even cried and had they not been there, I wonder how he would have taken it.

When he came to the pyre, his eyes were swollen red and he looked like a little clown totally out of the surroundings. He looked strange in that shining bald head and white wraparound. I so wanted to hug him and say all would be fine; I do not recall when was the last time I did it. When he was small, he would come running to me and embrace me tightly; now he would not even laugh in front of me. When I saw him yesterday, a frail sixteen-year-old boy accepting condolences, I felt he is not yet prepared to take on this world.

Shama wanted a large doll house, the one she had seen in movies. They are magnificent and large, and extremely expensive. She would often make unreasonable demands and then force me get everything. For a twelve-year-old girl, her father means everything. She was more angry than sad yesterday. She was angry as to how I could have left her like that without warning, my sweet little princess. Her anger betrayed helplessness and disbelief. Her dad who could have never been wrong left her disappointed.

Her life will be different now and she would never get that Doll house. She would also not get many other things and all that will be left is a big vacuum. I know her well, my little angel. I know she would want that doll house all her life. We never give up on our unfulfilled desires, do we?

The sensation is unique. I cannot describe it but I do feel the stream. It is like your hairs being ruffled by the wind. The sky is dark but you can see some stars, they are shining brighter tonight. When was the last time I looked at the sky?

Will I lie here till eternity?

I wanted to say many things to my wife. On a rainy day, we sat together in a veranda and watched it rain. Occasional drizzle came on us with the wind and brought taste of rain. We sat there for long, quietly and still at ease. I held her hand all the time; I can still feel those water droplets that came with the wind and softness of her hands. Whenever I think about our relationship, that day comes to my mind. Our relationship was probably those held hands, or that comfort of being at ease. Our relationship was probably being we.

 She was a young bubbly girl when we got married. On her first day at our place, she was surrounded by ladies of the neighbourhood and she looked uncomfortable in a gaudy wedding saree. She looked at me with pleading eyes and just fainted. In that crowded house, she was sent to rest quietly in our room and I was asked to look her after. As I entered the toom, she opened her eyes mischievously and smiled. That day, I fell for her smile.

Yesterday too she fainted twice; a dead body lied in her front that resembled me. The body was swollen and strange; and almost ugly. She often looked at it and closed her eyes and a tear would trickle down her eyes. Her face was sweaty and sad and she was no longer that young mischievous bride she had been one day. She was the lady who shared my joys and sorrows; she was the lady who shared my life. I wanted to hold her hands and sit beside quietly.  I have this eerie thought that I will never be able to do it.   

When they lifted my dead body, I also walked along with the crowd. They were busy doing their worldly things and I waited for all that to get over. At times someone cried and I found his face funny. How people look different when they cry or smile! When the pyre was lit, I saw the flesh burn and bones crumble into small pieces. Within less than an hour, all that remained of this body were few pieces of white. My son carefully separated them from wood and ash and then threw it in that river. It was almost midnight.  

The stars are twinkling in the sky. I remember nights when a young boy would sleep on his rooftop and look at this sky. Some days his grandmother would tell him a story and on others he would count stars and constellations. He was timid and shy and lived in myriad dreams. He loved stories.

 I see his mother kiss him on forehead and he cannot hide his smile. She is now caressing his hairs. His dad is full of joy looking at him. Next, he is sitting with his friends. He laughed till his cheeks started aching. There are memories long forgotten but they came back too.

I remember a night when stars twinkled in the sky. There were houses far across and their illumination made them look like Christmas lights on a mountain. It was cold outside but her presence comforted me. Music and wine made everything more beautiful and I softly held her in my arms; her eyes acquiesced that she wanted me too. I held her tightly as if I could always keep her close. I felt her body full of life, her heavy breathing and the fire that lied within. After we made love, I rested my head on her bosom and closed my eyes. If I was ever alive, it was in that time.

I guess I am floating. I am young, I am old, I am not bound now by the restraints of time and age. I am the wind, I am the sea. I am also a song that someone is humming far away. I am a petal, I am a cloud, or I am one strong memory of a song or a smell, or of an embrace. I am the cold wind, I am the heat, or I am chill of the morning, and fog, and mist.

            The end is just a beginning!

Country, before Self!

The Country always comes first.

I have been to places you may never see, I have dealt with kinds you wish never existed and I have done deeds you won’t even prefer to know. You cannot imagine all this sitting in your comfortable homes and busy in your comfortable dreams. I have seen my country rise against all odds and against its troubled past. I have seen sacrifice of family and friends and after a million similar deeds, our country emerged as we see it.

After all these years I have only realised one thing, that country comes first. If only you can instill this sense in each and every citizen, no one can stop your country.

I am sure you have heard my name but just as a custom, let me tell you. I am Mao Zedong, the Chairman of Communist Party and the father of Great People’s Republic of China. I am the same Mao whose pictures you have seen in text books, I am the same person whom people revere and fear in equal terms. Love me or hate me but I am what I am.

China was not always great. It had seen corrupt kings who were weaklings and governments that never existed. That was before I reined in.  Do you know once upon a time, we did not have even enough to eat? You heard it right; the great People’s Republic of China had not even enough to feed its citizens and people died on streets. It was fifth decade of last century and enemies of the state ruled the roost. Farmers toiled in the fields selflessly, soldiers struggled hard to safeguard the country and millions slept hungry.

Today you may laugh at it but do you know who kept the country hungry? That little nasty beast bird, sparrow.

2

You just have to believe that country comes first. Keep that faith and never rest till you have attained your aim.

 If you ask what can be done from those experts having long beards and wrinkled face, they will take hours and hours to tell you it is complicated (their eyes look silly behind those thick eyeglasses). They are the reason why problems persist. They will never tell you what you should do and it is your own judgement, your own ability to decide which you can do to take the country through.

One day in the afternoon after my siesta, I sat up with an old farmer’s manual. It was full of those truisms and one of that was warning farmers from smart sparrow. The answer was in front of me. Productivity of farms was never the problem, it was that nasty sparrow. It ate a huge chunk of food grains and all our renowned experts, our worthy leaders of past age could never see it.  

I have always been meticulous. A leader just cannot do the things; a leader should also be in control. I called my entire cabinet and made them wait for an hour. I called party men and press and then did I tell them, and along with them told the entire nation too, give me your fifty days and world is yours.

I gave them a decisive plan, area by area, field by field and I asked them to give up sleep for some days; the only thing they had to ensure was there was no sparrow left. They were trained to beat drums, they were trained to shoot and the only thing they had to do was to do this relentlessly for fifty days.

You can never imagine the power of ordinary citizens. You ask them once to sacrifice their hours for the country and they will sacrifice everything.

3

The country always comes first and I made them believe it.

There were millions of people on this job and soon we just had carcasses of those beasts. It was almost magical to hear the drumming of those drums, the energised rural populace and the celebration when the last beast is killed.

And then there were those who come like bees following honey. Slowly they start whispering this is bound to fail. They also write on the neighborhood walls and then publish it in obscure newspapers and books. It is not that I cannot swallow dissent but the only thing I cannot bear is dampening the spirits of those set out to change the nation. If you cannot aid in nation building, at least do not laugh at others who do it. 

These people will talk of ecology, they will blabber natural balance and myriad other intellectual things but ask them about the toil and hard work of the farmers and they will turn clueless. How can they be so far from reality?  

What if yields in one area were less and some people died. People die all the time. Which great thing ever came without any suffering? Our soldiers have been dying all along the borders. Did these intelligent people ever shed a tear in their memory?

They say sparrows eat insects and these pests have increased a million times. Yes, this may be partially true but in the long run, imagine what would be our productivity. Can this huge campaign which has taken shape of a revolution not give desired results? 

Our experts went directly to the people and exposed their lies. Farmers were happy and full of enthusiasm. We were responsive to the changing situation and daily instructions were issued how this plan should progress. 92% of our citizens were all for this campaign. They were willing to suffer not for 50 but for 5000 days. Today was the time they could do something for the country.

4

The country always comes first.

It has been four years since we started the glorious campaign and today our entire country believes in this concept. The enemies of the state do not know where to hide their face. They will whisper to anyone who would lend them ears that forty five million died due to this but no one believes.

Killing of bedbugs was an important step for building the overall hygiene and the better health indicators that we see today are only because of the great campaign. Once the ordinary citizens realise their power, no power in the world can stop them. When we went against bedbugs, many said were foolish to have this exercise. A huge smear campaign was started that we actually intended to kill sparrows.

And how does it matter anyways? Nation building is a task that these people will never understand. Did anyone ever include these humble peasants and common citizens in nation building? Did they ever complain they were suffering? What is anyways in their life than pain and suffering? Most of the questions in this world are moral not economic. The main objective was to involve these men in nation building. You have to make the populace believe in their leader. Only when we all march together towards a common goal, we can achieve for what we had set in.

We have to fight our common enemy and identify those who say we cannot do it. They should believe that peasants, soldiers and any other countrymen are together and united.

You again ask me what we gained out of all this. Everybody learnt that country comes first, always before anything and no sacrifice is big enough for our beloved country.

PS: The only inspiration for this story was the Four Pests Campaign undertaken in China in the years 1958-1962. All other insinuations are purely imaginary J

Till We Meet…

1

Dear Vidya,

Pardon me that I did not write for many days, the work is keeping me engaged and I had a hectic week. I had gone to Haridwar and Dehradun to finalize a deal. Yes, it was necessary to go; you know I hate travel. There was a day to spare and I rushed to Mussorie. I stayed in the same ‘Padmini Resort’, the old heritage hotel where we stayed during our honeymoon. It is not like it used to be; they have done away with the wooden dining room and small concrete cubicles have come up in its place. You do not see many people but the place is noisier than before.  

View from hotel’s balcony is still the same. You see snow-capped mountains shimmering during the day and expanse of valley beneath. At night you see bright lights at Dehradun and the city appears twinkling with Christmas bulbs, as if you have risen above the star studded nocturnal sky. The balcony has a swing, though you have to resist cold wind to enjoy it. I could not sleep thinking about those days.

We had just entered the hotel room when you said, “Honesty should be the basis of our relationship.” I could not understand what you were getting to. “People build relationship on lies by being pleasant all the time but we should not emulate that. Tell something about me which is not flattering.”

“You snore while you sleep.” I had taken the bait. Even today I can imagine you as a young bride; somewhat chubby and extremely beautiful, sleeping softly on bed; and snoring. You used to put a vermillion dot on forehead and there were henna marks on your hand.

“Your face resembles a frog.” I was not handsome but no one had told me that before.

“You look funny when you cry, especially when you make that wheezing sound. I resisted laughter while you cried taking leave of your family on our wedding day.” I could see a frown on your face.

“You look like a moron when you talk gibberish to your pet fish in the aquarium. Fish can’t hear whatever you say.” You were mocking me now.   

“You have a tendency to become fat, especially when you resemble your mom.” I realized I was in trouble as large tears swelled in your eyes and we could have divorced that day. I did not say your mother was fat; I just wanted to say she was on the heavier side or something like that but it was a wrong choice. It took million apologies (two of them on my knees), detailed explanation about everything I said before and three hours thirty minutes to mend things. Honesty is not always the best policy.

Barring that day we had a good time. We roamed for hours discovering the picturesque landscape and large oak trees covered with moss kept us company. There were occasional paintings on the rocks, or a name inscribed on tress and we relished tea at roadside stalls. Yes, I remember everything. For the first time in my life, I felt what proximity means; it was a mixed feeling of togetherness and sharing personal space. You know one day after making love, when you had fallen asleep, I lay awake. You appeared so carefree, so pure that I promised myself, I will always keep you like that; and I will always love you. It was one those solemn promises that can be made rarely in lifetime.    

Fifteen years, looks like ages we have been married. Imagining life when you were not there looks distant, remote. I feel I was incomplete before and our identities merged after meeting; both of us became new. It is difficult to put in words what I mean. Right at this moment, when I am thinking about you and looking at this paper wondering what to write next, there is a strange feeling, something which is strong like incense or music with déjà vu. I am not sad or happy but it is blissful. How do you write something which can only be felt? I think you already know what I mean.  

2

Let us talk about something else. You asked many times how I felt when I first met you; I vividly remember that day. After days of incessant rain, it was a sunny afternoon and sky was blue like never before. The weather was good with a cool breeze blowing. There was water everywhere and on your way home, I just managed my trousers from getting stained.

 I was tense with all that continuous bickering of the kids, aunts teasing like never before and a wet peck on cheek that your grandmother gave. People settled in groups and talked about various things, woes of traffic, Ayurveda treatment for incurable diseases and political upheavals. Amid all this, you entered and the limelight shifted.

Your feet were beautiful. I noticed it because my eyes were fixed on the floor. I was conscious that someone will mock me looking at you. I saw your face when you got seated and I saw you were angry. Yes, this is what I felt when I saw you, that you were angry. Your face softened slowly but it took time before smile came. Perhaps you were angry at being paraded in this way. We were left alone for ten minutes to decide our fate.

“Stop fidgeting, they will feel you are disappointed with me.” You said pointing towards relatives hidden behind doors. I was nervous to say anything and I just kept staring; you had deep eyes, sharp features and a prominent nose. Before I could utter a word, you again asked “What is my name?”

“er…Pinki…” I felt being ragged at first day of college.

“No that is my pet name. It is Vidya Arya. You don’t even know that and you want to marry me?” You were enjoying it. I saw you smile and something happened; I realized I had always known you.

“Yes, I am going to marry you. I would have proposed on my knees but everyone is looking and then I also do not have a ring.” I surprised myself when I said that.

 Sweets were exchanged and the date of our wedding was fixed. After I came back, I had doubts. I did not talk to you about anything and I did not even ask if you were ready for this marriage. I wanted to meet you again but lacked courage to do so.

“If we have to get married, we better know each other.” You said after two days when you landed unannounced outside my office. Although our marriage was fixed, we had arranged our love. We talked for hours and I never knew there was so much to tell each other. I learnt all about your neighbourhood, your academic woes and even that you were planning to turn your diary into an autobiography. “Isn't it too plain to be turned into a book?” You were not amused. “I will make sure it does not remain so after marriage.”

I remember we finalized a bucket list. Watching Akira Kurosawa movies was first on our list and we completed it. We even managed to visit Taj Mahal, albeit the moon light was missing. I think we were never serious about earning black belt in Taekwondo and becoming famous before we turn thirty was just a wish. We never went trekking Himalayas and could not manage Nile Safari in Egypt. We could have taken ride in hot air balloon and watched a movie at drive in, but we never tried.

I could not recognize you on the wedding day. Beautician had turned you into a quintessential bride and you looked uncomfortable. We sat on regal chairs and people came to get pictures clicked. By the time it was over, my facial muscles were stiff. After this the photographer expected us to give romantic poses. “Put your hand on his shoulders, only one hand, just slightly ahead, hold his left hand with the other one, now fold both your hands and look there, we will impose his picture. Not like this, bring a smile on your face.” You resisted killing him. Although you were sitting next to me, we could not talk. We will not marry our kids in this way. 

3

My father cried when he took Pakhi in his arms. “Welcome to our family.” He said with a lump in his throat. Pakhi was wrapped in light pink clothes and there was a woollen cap on her head. She was so small that she almost disappeared in those clothes. She had tiny fingers and always clenched her fists. My mother declared with a grin, “She looks like Vidya, but she will be more beautiful.” Everyone made strange faces while greeting her and uttered gibberish.

 I was afraid she might get hurt if I hold her but when my mother put her on my lap, I realized I was longing for it. She lied still with her eyes closed, and I felt she smiled in her sleep. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen; she would always be. I took my finger towards her palm and she held it tight. That day while looking at her face, I realized what innocence means. 

I remember the look we shared when you came out of the delivery room. I held Pakhi, a part of our shared selves and it was mesmerizing. It was a feeling of pride, happiness and something which is beyond words. When Aryan came four years later, our family was complete. Life changes when kids come in the family and how we relish in mundane.

You never completed your autobiography but I will write a book about life of the ordinary. In this world of extraordinary, there is not much about simple people. I do not know about the protagonist, probably an average man who is average in everything; average life, average aims and average accomplishments. But he will have a lovely wife and most wonderful kids. 

The book will capture images that have stayed with me. I remember lying next to you on winter mornings and the warmth of your body, the fragrance of desert cooler during hot summer afternoons which reminded smell of earth after rains, recipes tried by you and the aroma from kitchen, rainy days with tea and gossip in the balcony, Aryan reciting nursery rhymes one after the other, Pakhi dressing as an angel, birthday cakes and blowing of candles (which invariably always Aryan did), doctor’s appointment and tears of kids after getting vaccinated, sores at Aryan’s feet which came again and again, new year resolutions that often failed but enthusiasm when they were made, the wrist watch that you gifted me (I am still wearing it), festivals, new clothes and chirpiness of Paki when she was happy, playing cards and you letting Aryan cheat, social gatherings and sharing a ‘let us leave soon’ look, debates if we were raising our children properly,  sharing a kiss when kids looked other way, seeing our children grow and wondering how time flies, and being thankful for being a family.

Do not think that I will write only niceties about you. I hated it when you ensured a hundred things before we made love. You spent hours finalizing the perfect background music. The lighting should be perfect, not too bright, and not too dim and children should be completely asleep. The room also should have pleasant odour. No I am not cribbing; I am just stating my point of view. I like to keep my mouth open while I chew. I also enjoy burping sometimes and not saying sorry. I know how to tie shoelace, how to wear socks and how to fold clothes properly. There are different ways to do these things actually.

4

Pakhi and Aryan have just fallen asleep; they insist on sleeping in my room. I listen to what all they did during the day and them I read them a story. I am not good at animating but Aryan cannot sleep without listening those. Even Pakhi enjoys them though she is almost reaching teenage. The good thing is I also lie down early because of this and it is rejuvenating to watch children sleep, they look so serene.

The wall clock has started making a distracting sound. It announces every second at night as if no one pays attention during the daytime. Many crickets have appeared in our colony and they chirp loudly, disturbing the otherwise silent neighbourhood. A lone night watchman took round outside, beating his wooden stick loudly on the road. Somewhere at a distance, there was a turf war of stray dogs. I turned sides for long, but then gave up the effort to sleep. I took out picture albums from the store room and cleaned dust gathered on those. I could not have done this in front of children. I have started growing old and tears come easily.

We were so thin when we got married. There was a spark in our eyes, a feeling that our future was going to be great. We were smiling in those romantic poses; we were genuinely happy. You wore blue sari and you looked good. Your father looked tense in all the pictures; perhaps being father of the bride has that effect.

There are so many people we never met again. Shyam uncle, who had come all the way from USA got paralyzed after that. Kamala aunty also never came again. Do you remember she was the life of our wedding? She danced and sang all the time and made everyone else do so. She gifted you a seductive nightgown before we left for honeymoon. You had promised her that you will try it out soon; you are yet to fulfil it.

I created a collage of pictures. It was a lot of work, selecting pictures from various events and gently pasting them on a sheet. Touching old pictures is a different experience, something like going back to that age. I even found pictures of our childhood. Sounds strange but our parents were as young as we are when they were of our age. I read somewhere that if two persons live together for long, they start resembling; I think we started looking same.

I found pictures of Bidyut. Although he was my elder brother, he was best friend I had. He was so happy and full of life and I was shaken when he left this world after few days. I could not face bhabhi. You were a pillar of strength for our entire family and I can’t imagine how I would have managed without you.

Last year on that day in hospital, when you left us alone, there was no one to comfort me. There was a heavy weight on my chest and it was difficult to breathe. I felt that there was no ground beneath my feet. There was so much to be told, so much to be said. I hated those monitors kept in the room, those tubes attached to your body and your swollen face. It wasn't you, there was some mistake. Your hand was cold, it did not move when I held it tight. It was a kind of test, nightmare may be but it was not the truth. I could not have cried in front of you, it was bad for your recovery.

I failed my promise that nothing will happen to you and I never felt so helpless before.  It was difficult to see you sink. There were dark circles under your eyes, your lips were dry and you were white as snow. The vigour left your body and you were skin and bones. I knew it was side effect of medicines as you were responding well to the treatment, even doctors admitted that. I kept sitting their holding your hand, praying for a miracle. How could you leave me like that?  I wanted to scream but no sound came from my throat.

Other memories of that period are vague. There were lot of people at home and I was never left alone. They decorated you like a bride and I applied vermilion on your head. Everyone cried; I felt extremely lonely and there was no privacy to grieve. I wanted you to console me; I wanted you to say that everything was going to be well. A glass bier took you to the crematorium; you slept peacefully on your way. I was asked to lit a heap of wooden logs and someone who resembled you.

I was afraid to face Pakhi and Aryan but they took it better than me. They have grown more than we knew. Pakhi has your grace and authority apart from your looks and Aryan is mature for his age. He was our pampered child but this incident has made him sombre.

My day begins with missing you. I hate the stubbornness with which I continue to live another day. Your memories live with me but I am not happy. I want to feel you, to hold your hand and listen you speak. I never thanked you for many things. You taught me how to live, you taught me how to bear success and defeats and you turned our house into a home. I never thanked you for walking by my side, for weaving your life together with me. I never thanked you for your companionship; I never thanked you for loving me.

We will meet again one day. We will meet when we are young and still have those dreams. It will be on seashore, when the sun is rising and it is a beautiful new day. We will watch fishermen going in the sea and large waves swinging their boat in its lap, we will watch lovers playing on the beach and make castles of sand; we will watch the tides wash it away. We will walk hand in hand and get amazed at vastness of the sea. We will meet when everything is calm and the sea is still. We will meet when there is silence all around, silence which is not melancholic but serene. We will meet when everything is as it is supposed to be. We will meet when there nothing but happiness.

Waiting to meet you soon,

Aniket