Choking air and us

I live in Meerut, some 60 km away from Delhi and I was just wondering that age is taking toll on my health. Since last four days there is a general sense of fatigue, breathlessness, sense of not being well and slight cough. As temperature is changing a little children are also coughing and sneezing.  On top of it the children are also waking up alternately at night, crying and coughing.  After helping them to sleep again there is a feeling of suffocation in the air that is not relived even after opening the door. Then we have to wake up early in the morning for school and work feeling lethargic for the whole next day. This has become a vicious cycle.

On the top, it has been all smoky and smoggy even inside our house. Not to speak of outside.

 I could hardly see anything in the morning; in the noon forget the evening or the night. I could see every children coughing as they are waiting for school bus. But temperature is not that low as it seems in the photographs .  

 A layer of mist covered my car window; I wiped it clean only to find a layer of black dirt being erased.

Frosted dirt we are breathing in

Are these the air we are breathing in! I asked my young students –they are also feeling the same.

Then the pollution news started pouring in and there was some paradoxical relive. Hey may be its not my age, anyway I am never that old.

Another paradox may be my car, my refrigerator my life style is contributing to these.

Then comes today’s TOI head line ….DELHI_YOU_ARE_ KILLING_ ME

May God bless us #

TRYST WITH THE VANISHING SENSES

In today’s world, anything that we wish to be acquainted with, is available at the click of a button. Especially if we are searching for knowledge….With just a few clicks of the mouse or touches on the screen, or by typing on the keypad of a cell phone, we can have information about anything. So, we are getting to know everything without experiencing the subject. This tendency has led to the genesis of a virtual generation that lacks senses. Nevertheless, being human, we definitely experience sensations like sight, touch, hearing and taste, without our grey matter processing the object of those sensations. Most of us don’t have the time to feel our experiences. And the fifth sense – ‘smell’ has become confined to the aroma of food, perfume and a few unpleasant experiences only. We have given our soul to all sorts of gadgets, from TV, laptop to cell phones or video games, so much that there is hardly any time left for our brain to process basic human feelings. Our senses are highly ignored in these times of high tech communications. That is killing the world we know.

Does it mean that we have changed to such an extent that we have perceived the truth in a different way? Don’t we need to be acquainted with the world the way we used to know? Google anything: you have the information you want. Then save it in your laptop or phone till you need it. Let gadgets feel it for you, what is the need of something that is real like a book, or touch or eye contact?  

 A few years ago, I had paid a visit to a village in Maharashtra and the aura of that village changed my perception.

The name of this small village is Sevagram, situated near Wardha, a small town in Maharashtra. People knew this village as Shegaon till a hundred years ago. Life here was still, nothing happened, except the activities of daily living, reminiscent of village life of a bygone era.

Where morning turned into evening and evening into night seamlessly without incident, without novelty…..day in and day out

Harsh winter, Sprightly Spring, Scorching Summer, followed by Contemplative Autumn, the cycle repeating with time.

This routine humdrum was halted by the arrival of a Guest one fine morning in early April 1936. The Guest was one of the most important persons of the country, who believed that the heart of India lies in its villages. He called the villagers and sought their permission to settle down there along with his wife only for company. He was 67 years old at that time. In those days, the village was surrounded by forest on all sides. There was only one footpath or cart track to Wardha. No post-office or telegraph office existed. And there was utter confusion while receiving the letters from the post office situated in Wardha. So, it was decided in 1940 to name this village as SEVAGRAM or the “village of service.” However, slowly the pressure of work on this person necessitated his asking for permission to accommodate more co-workers in the village, till Sevagram Ashram also became a full-fledged institution.

And in no time, this sleepy little hamlet became the centre of India’s freedom movement. Independence was achieved in 1947, and that man was assassinated the following year.

But, his philosophy inspires everyone even today and Sevagram continues to function with that mindset. The village became home to the first rural medical college in India, the Mahatma Gandhi Institute of Medical Sciences.

What is inspiring about this village is that it has a medical College, an Engineering College, all the aspects of (so called) modern technology, but it is still maintaining its ethos as a small Indian Village…

….Where you can feel your senses without any hindrance.

And what is more important is that you can smell the place almost as it was about five decades ago.

While walking through Bapu Kuti, I could smell the aroma in the atmosphere.

The dust, the air and the stillness in the atmosphere convinced me that I could feel the man Named Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, who lived here all those years ago.

Then I looked at one of his quotes engraved, “Not mad rush, but undisturbed calmness brings wisdom.”

The Birth of a Phoenix

The eternal question that haunts everyone is ‘Do I exist? (or, Why do I exist?)

Every moment of our life, we answer this question in different ways, as per the circumstances we face. Like destiny, the answer keeps on changing.

And in these transient moments of crisis, we begin to fear that due to change, we would be losing things we know the way they are, the way we know to be correct…..

But things are changing at an awfully rapid pace.

Nothing will ever be the same.

Take the case of ‘C’ grade cinema halls in small mofussils of India and the people associated with them, whom we knew as ‘blackers’. We used to recognize them, not to mention that we knew a few by name as well, as on many occasions, they were our last hope, while trying to get tickets for the first day first show of a block buster movie. And now…..forget the blackers, even those cinema halls are things of the past.

Or, think of the numerous letter head printing presses with their blocks and proof readers.

The photo studios, with dark rooms for developing still film rolls and the waiting for hours together, wondering how the developed photographs would turn out.....

Or, the tape recorder/walkman and the audio cassettes...

The ‘hamara’ (Bajaj) Scooter...

The Black & White televisions....

Or, maybe grandma’s tales by the fireplace on winter evenings.

Think deep…… it’s a whole new world we are living in where nothing is permanent. Eventually no (body) thing exists in this ruthless world.

Stressed and unable to adapt to the newly defined values, we tend to become prophets/ philosophers /or epitaph writers and start prophesying the death of the things we love (but also fear losing it in the whirlpool of time). I am no exception to this habit. Maybe, growing up at a time of unrest and paranoia adds fuel to the problem, as Assam in the 80s had all the ingredients for these negative thoughts to engulf a pessimist like me.

As always, I was sad that a few of my friends goaded me to head for Corbett National Park. Deep inside the jungle, there is a Guest House named Dikala. To begin with, I hated everything in Dikala. Out here also, people were breaking every rule, competing with one another just like in the concrete jungle. The worst thing was having firsthand experience of seeing human beings invading the animals’ habitat and depriving them of their privacy. Imagine someone lurking inside your room to take glimpses of you bathing or cooking!

But who cares, everyone had to upload a tiger and himself in the same frame.

As I sat glumly in the backyard of the guest house, I started talking to the people who had the “call of the wild” in their blood. As the adda continued, I found that each one of them was an excellent story teller and their never ending stories ranged from tigers of Corbett to Ghosts inside a ‘Peepal’ tree, to the poachers or encroachers of Corbett national Park. Just a few moments ago, due to circumstances, my mind was prophesying the death of an ancient art named story telling. But I found out that it was alive and flourishing in the heart of the jungle in its full potential in the heart of the jungle named Jim Corbett national park.

The role of a Sutradhar

camera and our life

taken from net

Over the years the conventional understanding about a sutradhar was that it narrates the story but by itself it don’t take any active part, But to go against the defined rule is what excite more and so everyone rebels against the defined system .even if it is a –machine.

In modern day life the most well established story teller is –the camera ,wherever u go camera capture and tell the story ,remember Diwakar Benerjee’s LSD out there camera are playing the role of a sutradhar .

It was okay till then, but I strongly believe this modern world sutradhar is gathering some kind of paranormal power that affect psychology of the people it capturing

Few examples:

 A group were leading a peaceful protest rally, the camera arrived, and once the cameraman opens its shutter:-they started giving slogans and soon, they got out of control and started destroying everyone nearby

There were report of some scandal (it can be true ,it can be false and the incident is many days event )Once camera came to investigate ,people gathered ,Then they identifies the culprit (who might not be the one person who has done it ,but once camera rolls people started beating him up.

She is a normal girl next door with a boyfriend, the boyfriend buys a camera phone ---the rest is a movie story

SO is it our normal way of life  or the modern day sutradhar  induces us to act differently then we would have behaved without the camera shutter on , over which we don’t have any control.

Lesson from History

Restaurant @ Rishikesh –Dehradun road

Now closed restaurant in Mumbai

I sincerely believe history has many things to teach us and if we follow the trend we observe history blatantly repeats itself. Crime committed by one generation haunts the history of mankind. Examples are their everywhere we only have to closely observe them. That’s where the lessons learnt from previous experience should help us so that we avoid such kind of anguish and holocaust in the coming future.

But the seed of evil is also as devil as a rotten bacteria they keeps us hunting forever.

Take the recent instance of racial slur by fashion moughal John Galliano praising Hitler

Or public acknowledgement Bal Thackeray that ‘I am a great admirer of Hitler’

Or naming a café after Hitler  in Navi Mumbai few years back.

What all these rejected fanatic idea of century bygone  doing in India ?

Events in last century proved all the evil face of Hitler still (like a rotten bacteria I was mentioning) his idea keep on popping up. Few might be by fanatics utopians and many of might be due to simple ignorance or glamour (publicity!) quotient.

Take the example of a small taste fully decorated restaurant (otherwise!) in the Rishikesh –Dehradun road where to my utter disbelieve I saw a Nazi flag hanging out just for show, or may be to attack the young crowd out their.

I am sure the owner, and the so called young crowd whom they are suppose to attract doesn’t have any clue what that flag signify.

It would have been okay otherwise (as in India until hype is created –chab kuch chalta haien yaar!)

But why don’t we think that we are encouraging tourist with the slogan of ‘Atithi debo bhaba’, and many of our tourist to rishikesh Dehradun road are Jew from Israel and many are Germans, I sincerely believe it don’t make any of us (Indian, Jew or German or human race as a whole)

I believe this fatal combo of –ignorance and extreme idealism is a threat to the coming time and only reason for it is we have started disregarding the lessons of history.

Kechaikhaiti (কেচাইখাইতী)

Before the Viashnavite renaissance (1400 AD ---) in Assam in the remote eastern corner in a place called Kundil (now Sadiya ) there was a temple of powerful goddess named Kechaikhaiti (কেচাইখাইতী).The local tribes – Deuris, Kacharis ,Chutiya used various kind of offering to their powerful deity. As time passed many of these offerings in fact turned out to be human. In the beginning it used to be a voluntary affair and the person who has volunteered himself to be sacrificed for Goddess was called a xar (ষাড).The xar and his family used to get immense freedom ,respect and benefits from the society as the notion was once Goddess is satisfied there won’t be any calamity in the locality for the year .

Then Ahoms invaded the area ,and Goddess Kechaikhaiti become one of the important reference point of sociopolitical situation of 600 year old history of Ahom dynasty .Many of the Ahom kings become devotee of the Goddess .So yearly there were many offering(as sacrifice) from the kingdom for peace and well being of the country. And many times this human sacrifice became a mean to get rid of rivals in the midst of political chaos of Ahom kings.

That slice from historical literature always fascinated me like anything .

As history fascinates me and when the bugs from history bites my I have to scratch the itch .One of such scratch was the visit to Kechaikhaiti than situated in remote location inside Sadiya. It was Diwali of -2005 and we had a break of two days from hospital duty in Dibrugarh .

We used Bike ,Bus , boat , tempo to reach the place after two days of journey we reached the temple –all alone and unabashed by the river Kundil .

It was nothing to many, but for us the feel of the place was something else.

Life is easy when there is nothing to lose

photograph of malegaon ka hero's in front of IFFI venue

No money, no education, remote location, lack of resources etc etc etc are our common explanation for non fulfillment of our dream.
I realized these are our theory of defense mechanism (I knew it before,).
I happened to visit IFFI (International Film festival of India –Goa, 2009) where I saw a beautiful short film ‘Malegaon Ka Superman’.
It’s about few crazy people who defied those pre convictions and started chasing their dream.
Malegaon is a small town known for its weaving industry communal riot and their passion for cinema.
And one fine day Shaikh Nasir, local lad from the town thought of making a cinema. He had no knowledge what is filmmaking is all about. All he had was a handy camp and an idea about a movie that sells. Spoof comedy. In his movie Malegaon Ka superman the superman weighs hardly 30 kg the villain and he flies (in chrona) up to have a better mobile network loves filth so he aims to fill the country with dirt. And the result- it’s a big hit in Malegaon video parlous. They have spoofed Sholley, Munna Bhai and many others. And now they are celebrity not only in Malegaon, thanks to the documentary their movies were in a special category in IFFI and much talked about all through the festival.
I loved the giggling face the happy crew of the superstars from Malegaon who dared the break the jinx of defense mechanism.

New year musing

* Photograph of fog on new years eve through the window Dehradun

Another new year, nothing new though

Except the wishes n sms, TV, and net

Or in the extra food, cakes or drink

Or the extra smile and shake

Or the extra fog

Or extra cynicism with malice by and a man with nothingness.

Independent nothingness

Camera in my hand after a long time

A wet lazy independence day

through car-window in Dehradun street.

Beberibang

I am
Sad
Angry,
Restless,
Frustrated,
Petrified

About things I can’t change (not even myself)
Wanted to be uncompromising
But can’t stop the inevitable

(i.e. my reconciliations with reality)
May that’s why I am what I am
Not what I used to be.