Diwali Celebrations
It was Diwali [ Oct.17 2009]. We were in Manila in Pamposh’s house. It is a big house with a swimming pool. Raju and Pamposh Sajaved the ghar, which looked as a fairy land with a large number of candles of different sizes and hues.. They worked the whole day and by about 4pm took a short break.
Around 6pm as the Sun went down Raju and Pamposh started lighting candles. We had candles in front, at the entrance, the hall and the lanai[the area around the pool] The candles, some floating in water presented a very pleasant and gorgeous look. Soon the guests, all close friends of Pamposh and Raju started coming. They included Canadians, English, Turkish, Austrians and Philippinos in addition to the Indians, some of whom came after Laxumi Puja. The Indian Ambassador arrived with the Puja tilak on his forehead.
Manraj and Amit, Yeshem and Jem, Smruthi and Patfick, Aal,Carl and an young man from Raju’s office, Manas got the party going
Raju served drinks and Pamposh helped to lay the table. There was a rich fare of Seekh kebabs. boti kebabs, chicken kebebs and fish tikas, There was pita naan with homus dip, mixed salad and tons of egg plant. There was food” enough for a regiment” and in the end, past midnight, some of the guests were persuaded to take some of it with them for breakfast.
Around 11pm some music was set up and everybody started dancing which continued past midnight. Yshim, Manraj and Indira were dancing when the clocks struck mid night. Indira, who is 85 years, but young at heart, was dancing along with Smruthi till the end. Manas and Amit were the best among the men Raju and Pamposh did their bit despite having worked ceaselessly the whole day. It was a great evening and a memorable one for us who had a chance to celebrate our big festival with our children after a long time. We will not forget the occasion, after all at our age we live by our memories, We pray to Ma Luxmi to bless our children, our friends and the universe.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
Floods in Manila on Saturday 26.09.2004
Manila Floods Saturday 26.09.2009
Raju was in Mindanao on an overnight trip to meet a hopeful for the next years election to the Philippine Presidency. It had rained non-stop during the night and there was a nip in the air. Indira and I had just finished our breakfast and were watching the rain falling.
Soon we saw the swimming pool filled up to the brim and rain coming into the lanai. The scene was quite pleasant and we were relaxed. Soon Pamposh, my daughter felt, it is time to get the three big cupboards filled with books moved inside. It was quite an operation carried on by the Driver Ogi, the House-keeper Rose, the maid Nalya and Mama’s nurse Jheli. Pamposh, who is an excellent ‘crisis manager’ conducted the delicate operation as the cupboards have glass fronts. While the book-cases were being brought in, the water level in the lanai rose to the door ledge.
Next few moments were crucial as the water could now enter the house. There were a couple of rare carpets on the floor and those were rolled up and stocked on the sofas. Mama suggested that we should try to drain out water in the pool. Pamposh thought it was an excellent idea and asked Rose to call the pool-man. He told Rose that he couldnt as the water in his area had reached the danger level. Rose, who has a lot of initiative in her, asked him how to do it. She asked permission to try. Pamposh agreed and Rosee succeeded in opening the drain out plug. This prevented the water from coming into the house. It was a hairbreadth escape.
Rain continued to come cascading and water levels all over started to rise much above normal . Dasmarinas village ,where we live, was not flooded as the village administration immediately cleaned the entire drainage system and all the clogged drains. Their alertness saved the day. Elsewhere in Manila water rose to first and second floor levels. And a number of people lost their lives and thousands became homeless. We learnt about the devastation first from the BBC and then from the people who ere hit.
Soon our thoughts turned to Raju who was away from home. Mobiles were still working. Raju was advised not to take the days’ flight. Pamposh told him “come back tomorrow. Don’t take the risk today.” But soon we were told that he was on the plane bound for Manila. There was a heavy gale by then and we were naturally scared. However, soon Raju rang up from the Manila airport to say ‘though the plane has landed the passengers cannot get out as there is no staff to connect the chute to the aircraft bridge’ We waited for Raju to come home as Ogi was on the way to bring him.
It was a long wait ,first for Raju to get out of the plane which was one hour and fifteen minutes and then his trudge home through waist deep water as the car sent from home could not reach the airport. The roads were completely clogged by vehicles and swirling water. Ogi was stuck somewhere on the way.
Raju was thinking he might stay at some hotel near the airport. One of his colleagues, who had gone with him, was very keen to go home as she had a small baby at her flat. Her husband who had cone to fetch her had to park his car at some distance and wade through the water. He told Raju, if he was prepared to wade through the water he would lead the way to Dasmarinas village. about 8 Kilometers. Raju threw his lot with the two of them and followed the duo through the water. He reached home sometime after dark, may be about 8pm completing a journey which should have ended at about 3pm.
This was a Reporter’s quest for news. Not many people realize what a reporter has to go through collecting ’news’. Raju has been in Srilanka when there was fighting with the Indian Peace Keeping Force and he went to the northern areas held by the LTTE. He went to Iraq, when the newsmen faced suicide bombers, to Afghanistan when the Taliban were still strong. He was in Amritsar when the operation Black Thunder was launched. It is quite an adventurous life but very heavy on the family and friends.
BBC, CNN, News Channel Asia and other news media soon started covering the horrors of this flood caused by the Typhoon Ondoy. This was caused by heavy rainfall ever recorded in such a short time. One months average rain fell within a few hours accompanied by strong gale. Houses were flattened, cars drowned in rising waters and men and women caught by water were swept away by the current. The damage is extensive and abut a million people have become homeless and destitute in different parts of the Phillipines.
Raju was in Mindanao on an overnight trip to meet a hopeful for the next years election to the Philippine Presidency. It had rained non-stop during the night and there was a nip in the air. Indira and I had just finished our breakfast and were watching the rain falling.
Soon we saw the swimming pool filled up to the brim and rain coming into the lanai. The scene was quite pleasant and we were relaxed. Soon Pamposh, my daughter felt, it is time to get the three big cupboards filled with books moved inside. It was quite an operation carried on by the Driver Ogi, the House-keeper Rose, the maid Nalya and Mama’s nurse Jheli. Pamposh, who is an excellent ‘crisis manager’ conducted the delicate operation as the cupboards have glass fronts. While the book-cases were being brought in, the water level in the lanai rose to the door ledge.
Next few moments were crucial as the water could now enter the house. There were a couple of rare carpets on the floor and those were rolled up and stocked on the sofas. Mama suggested that we should try to drain out water in the pool. Pamposh thought it was an excellent idea and asked Rose to call the pool-man. He told Rose that he couldnt as the water in his area had reached the danger level. Rose, who has a lot of initiative in her, asked him how to do it. She asked permission to try. Pamposh agreed and Rosee succeeded in opening the drain out plug. This prevented the water from coming into the house. It was a hairbreadth escape.
Rain continued to come cascading and water levels all over started to rise much above normal . Dasmarinas village ,where we live, was not flooded as the village administration immediately cleaned the entire drainage system and all the clogged drains. Their alertness saved the day. Elsewhere in Manila water rose to first and second floor levels. And a number of people lost their lives and thousands became homeless. We learnt about the devastation first from the BBC and then from the people who ere hit.
Soon our thoughts turned to Raju who was away from home. Mobiles were still working. Raju was advised not to take the days’ flight. Pamposh told him “come back tomorrow. Don’t take the risk today.” But soon we were told that he was on the plane bound for Manila. There was a heavy gale by then and we were naturally scared. However, soon Raju rang up from the Manila airport to say ‘though the plane has landed the passengers cannot get out as there is no staff to connect the chute to the aircraft bridge’ We waited for Raju to come home as Ogi was on the way to bring him.
It was a long wait ,first for Raju to get out of the plane which was one hour and fifteen minutes and then his trudge home through waist deep water as the car sent from home could not reach the airport. The roads were completely clogged by vehicles and swirling water. Ogi was stuck somewhere on the way.
Raju was thinking he might stay at some hotel near the airport. One of his colleagues, who had gone with him, was very keen to go home as she had a small baby at her flat. Her husband who had cone to fetch her had to park his car at some distance and wade through the water. He told Raju, if he was prepared to wade through the water he would lead the way to Dasmarinas village. about 8 Kilometers. Raju threw his lot with the two of them and followed the duo through the water. He reached home sometime after dark, may be about 8pm completing a journey which should have ended at about 3pm.
This was a Reporter’s quest for news. Not many people realize what a reporter has to go through collecting ’news’. Raju has been in Srilanka when there was fighting with the Indian Peace Keeping Force and he went to the northern areas held by the LTTE. He went to Iraq, when the newsmen faced suicide bombers, to Afghanistan when the Taliban were still strong. He was in Amritsar when the operation Black Thunder was launched. It is quite an adventurous life but very heavy on the family and friends.
BBC, CNN, News Channel Asia and other news media soon started covering the horrors of this flood caused by the Typhoon Ondoy. This was caused by heavy rainfall ever recorded in such a short time. One months average rain fell within a few hours accompanied by strong gale. Houses were flattened, cars drowned in rising waters and men and women caught by water were swept away by the current. The damage is extensive and abut a million people have become homeless and destitute in different parts of the Phillipines.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Dinner with Nehru 1947
Dinner with Nehru
On two occasions I had dinner with Jawharlal Nehru as the chief guest. First, in 1947 in Delhi at the house of Kashi Nath Bamzai. Then Nehru was Chairman of the Viceroy’s Executive Coucil and the other as the Prime Minister in 1962 in Srinagar. This dinner was hosted by Bakshi Ghulam Mohammad, who was then called the Prime Minister of Jammu and Kashmir. Both were memorable occasions.
In 1947 none of us were aware of the protocol requirements. Bamzai was a political activist of Jammu and Kashmir National conference and was working as a journalist in Delhi. He was a frequent visitor at Nehru’s house at 17, York Road. He used to brief Nehru about Kashmir Politics. He had introduced Sheikh Abdulah to Nehru at Hyderabad session of AICC. Dawarka Nath Kachru, Political Assistant of Nehru was his childhood friend.
There were hectic preparations for the dinner. The guest list was long. Every one was invited personally on phone. There was no written invitation, it was purely informal ‘baradari’ affair meant for all Kashmiris, Hindus, Muslims.
National Conference workers and Bamzai’s close friends.
It was a sit-down dinner, the guests squatted on a richly carpeted floor with enormous cushions, and gao takias. Dinner, a judicious mix of non-vegetarian as well as vegetarian dishes, prepared by Kashmiri cooks was served in traditional style in big steel thalis. Every thali had twenty katoris in it.
The fare included delicacies like Kalia, yakhni,
Roganjosh, kofta, damaloo, munj-gada[Fish and radish]
kathae baigun,Chhaman[paneer],munj-e-hak, muli ki chatni, nadroomuundi and gaanth gobi ka achar. Tabakh nat [champs cooked on slow fire with special marinate] and gushtaba[cooked in yogurt and herbs] were served sizzling hot. The meal ,ended with pherni. A number of dishes like gooshtaba were flown from Srinagar.
One thing that I remember clearly is Nehru checking if other guests were treated with equal fare. He asked Tkki Kaul, one of the guests in Hindi “ Tikki mere thali main bees katorian hain. Tumhari thali mein kitni hain?”
“JI Mere bhi bees hain” he replied.
Nehru smiled and started the meal in Indian style mixing gravey and rice with his hand before eating.
The meal last more than an hour. Conversation was non political. Nehru was a man of many parts. He was well versed in history art, music, painting, dancing and was at home in any of these topics. It was a great experience to
see Nehru in a social gathering like this.
I remember calling T N kaul’s residence to check if he was coming for the dinner. I talked to his sister whom I had never seen . A few months later I met that sister of Tikki Kaul and soon we were dating. In the summer of 1948 we got married.
In 1962 the Prime Minister was visiting Kashmir. I was reporting. One day I was told to come to a dinner with Nehru in Bakhshi Sahib’s official residence. All of us were seated in the big lawn. All the big wigs were there. Juice and other soft drinks were being served to the guests.
Ram Nath, Bakhshi Sahib’s man-Friday was flitting from table to table informing the ministers that out-station telephone calls for them were waiting in an ante room. They went one by one, to attended their call, a ploy to go and have a drink away from the eyes of the Prime Minister who was not a drinker. It was getting late. Nehru looked at his watch and told Bakshi “ tum bi apna call lelo, khane ka waqt ho raha hai”
Every one fell silent. Bakhshi felt terribly embarrassed and said” janab khanna lag raha hai. Mein dekh ke aata haun”
The fare was lavish. There were several types of Kebabs, a large number of meat dishes with gravy, three types of paneer , haak [kashmiri saag] with ganth gobi, nadroo[lotus roots] guchhi[special Kashmiri mushroom], sffron rice and pillao.
The dinner was followed by Kashmiri sufiana music and santoor recital.
On two occasions I had dinner with Jawharlal Nehru as the chief guest. First, in 1947 in Delhi at the house of Kashi Nath Bamzai. Then Nehru was Chairman of the Viceroy’s Executive Coucil and the other as the Prime Minister in 1962 in Srinagar. This dinner was hosted by Bakshi Ghulam Mohammad, who was then called the Prime Minister of Jammu and Kashmir. Both were memorable occasions.
In 1947 none of us were aware of the protocol requirements. Bamzai was a political activist of Jammu and Kashmir National conference and was working as a journalist in Delhi. He was a frequent visitor at Nehru’s house at 17, York Road. He used to brief Nehru about Kashmir Politics. He had introduced Sheikh Abdulah to Nehru at Hyderabad session of AICC. Dawarka Nath Kachru, Political Assistant of Nehru was his childhood friend.
There were hectic preparations for the dinner. The guest list was long. Every one was invited personally on phone. There was no written invitation, it was purely informal ‘baradari’ affair meant for all Kashmiris, Hindus, Muslims.
National Conference workers and Bamzai’s close friends.
It was a sit-down dinner, the guests squatted on a richly carpeted floor with enormous cushions, and gao takias. Dinner, a judicious mix of non-vegetarian as well as vegetarian dishes, prepared by Kashmiri cooks was served in traditional style in big steel thalis. Every thali had twenty katoris in it.
The fare included delicacies like Kalia, yakhni,
Roganjosh, kofta, damaloo, munj-gada[Fish and radish]
kathae baigun,Chhaman[paneer],munj-e-hak, muli ki chatni, nadroomuundi and gaanth gobi ka achar. Tabakh nat [champs cooked on slow fire with special marinate] and gushtaba[cooked in yogurt and herbs] were served sizzling hot. The meal ,ended with pherni. A number of dishes like gooshtaba were flown from Srinagar.
One thing that I remember clearly is Nehru checking if other guests were treated with equal fare. He asked Tkki Kaul, one of the guests in Hindi “ Tikki mere thali main bees katorian hain. Tumhari thali mein kitni hain?”
“JI Mere bhi bees hain” he replied.
Nehru smiled and started the meal in Indian style mixing gravey and rice with his hand before eating.
The meal last more than an hour. Conversation was non political. Nehru was a man of many parts. He was well versed in history art, music, painting, dancing and was at home in any of these topics. It was a great experience to
see Nehru in a social gathering like this.
I remember calling T N kaul’s residence to check if he was coming for the dinner. I talked to his sister whom I had never seen . A few months later I met that sister of Tikki Kaul and soon we were dating. In the summer of 1948 we got married.
In 1962 the Prime Minister was visiting Kashmir. I was reporting. One day I was told to come to a dinner with Nehru in Bakhshi Sahib’s official residence. All of us were seated in the big lawn. All the big wigs were there. Juice and other soft drinks were being served to the guests.
Ram Nath, Bakhshi Sahib’s man-Friday was flitting from table to table informing the ministers that out-station telephone calls for them were waiting in an ante room. They went one by one, to attended their call, a ploy to go and have a drink away from the eyes of the Prime Minister who was not a drinker. It was getting late. Nehru looked at his watch and told Bakshi “ tum bi apna call lelo, khane ka waqt ho raha hai”
Every one fell silent. Bakhshi felt terribly embarrassed and said” janab khanna lag raha hai. Mein dekh ke aata haun”
The fare was lavish. There were several types of Kebabs, a large number of meat dishes with gravy, three types of paneer , haak [kashmiri saag] with ganth gobi, nadroo[lotus roots] guchhi[special Kashmiri mushroom], sffron rice and pillao.
The dinner was followed by Kashmiri sufiana music and santoor recital.
Pir Baba in North Western Province [now Pakistan]
Pir Baba’s Mazar
We were living in Mardan in the North Western Province in the early thirties. I was a fourth grader when my parents took a Ziarat [ yatra in modern Hindi] to the Mazar of Pir Baba in the hills. I don’t remember where the shrine was exactly located. But I remember that great preparations were made before taking the Ziarat as no vehicle could reach there, we had to walk several miles through dangerous areas inhabited by ferocious pathans. The hilly terrain was very barren and inhospitable, there was no water and no shade for miles. We had to walk in scorching Sun, about 110 degrees fahrenhieght.
Nobody rode a horse to the mazar. One had to depend on one's two legs and keep them moving to climb steep hillsides with small back-packs. If one came with a laden donkey he was sure to arouse the curiosity of the armed pathans, who did not bat an eye to loot and kill. The area was outside the administrative control of the British Government.
One had to go visit Pir Baba in faith, and confidence that he will take care of you. Mother, who had great faith, said: “We will go and I am sure Baba will see to it that all of us are all right.” Very early in the morning we left our house in a car and drove to the foot-hills of the mazar. Around 5am we left the car and started walking. Progress was very slow as the climb was very steep and the path was narrow and slippery because of layers of dust. By mid morning all of us were tired and perspiring profusely. Our guide advised us to drink a lot of water and eat onions to prevent sun-stroke.
Mother sat us in the shade of a jutting rock and gave us aloo paranthas and plenty of thin lassi and water to drink. After a short rest we were given our marching orders as we had to reach the shrine before mid-day. We had to return to our car before the onset of darkness. Darkness could be dangerous in these hills with so many armed brigands. Next few hours were grueling and we had to make determined efforts to keep moving as one sees in the Western Movies from America. Soon we were nearing the top of the hill and we were told that the mazar is now only a “stone's throw away.” Yes! It was about one and half a mile still to go.
We had another break with eggs, cheee, jam and bread and strong tea with generous quantities of milk. Mother said, “This is your lunch for today.”
After another half-hour trudge we reached the mazar; a white marble tomb of great beauty and simplicity. Father offered a chaddar for the mazar and both my mother and father prayed in silence for a while. After giving 101 rupees for feeding dervishes we left on our return journey which was less arduous as we were going down-hill. By early evening we reached our car and jumped into our seats with very great relief. “We have done it” was the mood while sitting in the comfort of the vehicle. It was around the night-fall that we saw the lights of Mardan, our home, our sanctuary.
We were living in Mardan in the North Western Province in the early thirties. I was a fourth grader when my parents took a Ziarat [ yatra in modern Hindi] to the Mazar of Pir Baba in the hills. I don’t remember where the shrine was exactly located. But I remember that great preparations were made before taking the Ziarat as no vehicle could reach there, we had to walk several miles through dangerous areas inhabited by ferocious pathans. The hilly terrain was very barren and inhospitable, there was no water and no shade for miles. We had to walk in scorching Sun, about 110 degrees fahrenhieght.
Nobody rode a horse to the mazar. One had to depend on one's two legs and keep them moving to climb steep hillsides with small back-packs. If one came with a laden donkey he was sure to arouse the curiosity of the armed pathans, who did not bat an eye to loot and kill. The area was outside the administrative control of the British Government.
One had to go visit Pir Baba in faith, and confidence that he will take care of you. Mother, who had great faith, said: “We will go and I am sure Baba will see to it that all of us are all right.” Very early in the morning we left our house in a car and drove to the foot-hills of the mazar. Around 5am we left the car and started walking. Progress was very slow as the climb was very steep and the path was narrow and slippery because of layers of dust. By mid morning all of us were tired and perspiring profusely. Our guide advised us to drink a lot of water and eat onions to prevent sun-stroke.
Mother sat us in the shade of a jutting rock and gave us aloo paranthas and plenty of thin lassi and water to drink. After a short rest we were given our marching orders as we had to reach the shrine before mid-day. We had to return to our car before the onset of darkness. Darkness could be dangerous in these hills with so many armed brigands. Next few hours were grueling and we had to make determined efforts to keep moving as one sees in the Western Movies from America. Soon we were nearing the top of the hill and we were told that the mazar is now only a “stone's throw away.” Yes! It was about one and half a mile still to go.
We had another break with eggs, cheee, jam and bread and strong tea with generous quantities of milk. Mother said, “This is your lunch for today.”
After another half-hour trudge we reached the mazar; a white marble tomb of great beauty and simplicity. Father offered a chaddar for the mazar and both my mother and father prayed in silence for a while. After giving 101 rupees for feeding dervishes we left on our return journey which was less arduous as we were going down-hill. By early evening we reached our car and jumped into our seats with very great relief. “We have done it” was the mood while sitting in the comfort of the vehicle. It was around the night-fall that we saw the lights of Mardan, our home, our sanctuary.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
An idyllic village on the banks of the Lidder
Akora, an idyllic village on the banks of the Lidder river. Fishing resort of Maharaja Hari Singh of Jammu and Kashmir.
The year was 1936 and the Maharaja still ruled the state. He had selected a very beautiful spot for fishing trout ,a game of which he was very fond. His Fishing lodge was made of sheered Deodar which looked very pretty. Usually the Maharaja spent here relaxed week-ends in the summer.
A little distance away was a small hamlet tucked away in a grove of massive chinars [maple trees] about five hundred yards from the river. It was a beautiful village with houses built with mud baked bricks surrounded by small kitchen gardens that provided the family all the vegetables they needed. My grandmother’s house, a three storey building of mud-baked bricks, stood at a very commanding spot. It was surrounded by other houses of grandma’s relatives.
She owned a sizeable piece of land which gave her enough income to live in comfort. Others in the village looked up to her. She also owned the only store in the village and all the villagers drew their requirements like salt, cooking oil, toiletries, kerosene etc from this shop.
Having grown up in the district towns of British India [I was 11 years going on to twelve ] this village seemed to me a place from some dream story book.
Looking back on it now, I am reminded of the famous song of the seventies movies:
Gori tera gaon bara piyara
Main to gaya mara ake yehan re
People in the village lived a very simple but relaxed life. For most of them the day began with green tea, a small kulcha [fetched from the district headquarters of Anant Nag, about 8 miles away, on the other bank of the river] or home made paranthas. By about 11 the young gathered at the char-chinar, a square shaded by the chinars. Here all the news relating to the village, like the flow of water in the river Lidder, the movement of the Maharaja and his staff, the number of yatris visiting Mattan [Martand], a pilgrimage spot about three miles from the village, was shared. Someone would produce a pack of cards and a game of 304 would begin, lasting the whole morning.
After a lunch of rice, Haak,a leafy vegetable peculiar to Kashmir, dam aloo or khatte baigan, paneer or a bit of non-veg whenever available [mutton had to be brought from Anant Nag] everyone rested for some time. At about 4 pm the company re-appeared at the char chinar. This time someone would bring a samovar and a round of sheer-chai [tea with milk and salt] would go round, along with hukka-smoking and all the gossip available.
The gathering would disperse by about 6 pm so that everyone could be home while there was still some day-light. There was no electricity and petromaxes were expensive, lanterns gave out weak glows, beams of light, sufficient to eat dinner and go to bed. The ‘early to bed and early to rise,’ practice was prevalent.
Traveling was difficult.The nearest bus station was in Matan, about three miles away. One had to walk all the way, unless one could ride a horse. A visit to Srinagar [the state capital] required a few preparations, a change of decent clothes, generally borrowed from grandma’s house, arrangements to stay in the big town, and the timing of the bus to travel to Srinagar as the bus stand was not near the village. Consequently travel was kept to a minimum and undertaken when absolutely necessary. Otherwise life in the village was self-sufficient.
I was quite enthusiastic to spend my summer vacation in this village. But it was a big change from the life-style I was used to. I missed electricity at sun-down as hordes of mosquitoes attacked us and we had no way to defend ourselves. ‘No electricity’ meant we had to use lanterns and the light was not enough to read or write. We had to have our dinner between 6 to 7pm, and go to bed soon after. After 7pm the entire village came to a stand still. There was no night life.
After a week I was bored and keen to get out. But I still have memories of roses, kinas, marigold, bougainvillea, honeysuckle, sunflowers, champa and bella growing all over. Our picnics along the river front and hapatnar,[the bear-den] were very enjoyable and relaxed. Hapat-nar was situated in a gorge wooded by tall deodars. In the thick of the jungle, there was a mandir. We spent three nights in this temple. At night, we were visited by curious bears who played many pranks and watched by us from behind steel doors and windows. The trek to and fro was done on foot and we had to move in broad day light only.
The year was 1936 and the Maharaja still ruled the state. He had selected a very beautiful spot for fishing trout ,a game of which he was very fond. His Fishing lodge was made of sheered Deodar which looked very pretty. Usually the Maharaja spent here relaxed week-ends in the summer.
A little distance away was a small hamlet tucked away in a grove of massive chinars [maple trees] about five hundred yards from the river. It was a beautiful village with houses built with mud baked bricks surrounded by small kitchen gardens that provided the family all the vegetables they needed. My grandmother’s house, a three storey building of mud-baked bricks, stood at a very commanding spot. It was surrounded by other houses of grandma’s relatives.
She owned a sizeable piece of land which gave her enough income to live in comfort. Others in the village looked up to her. She also owned the only store in the village and all the villagers drew their requirements like salt, cooking oil, toiletries, kerosene etc from this shop.
Having grown up in the district towns of British India [I was 11 years going on to twelve ] this village seemed to me a place from some dream story book.
Looking back on it now, I am reminded of the famous song of the seventies movies:
Gori tera gaon bara piyara
Main to gaya mara ake yehan re
People in the village lived a very simple but relaxed life. For most of them the day began with green tea, a small kulcha [fetched from the district headquarters of Anant Nag, about 8 miles away, on the other bank of the river] or home made paranthas. By about 11 the young gathered at the char-chinar, a square shaded by the chinars. Here all the news relating to the village, like the flow of water in the river Lidder, the movement of the Maharaja and his staff, the number of yatris visiting Mattan [Martand], a pilgrimage spot about three miles from the village, was shared. Someone would produce a pack of cards and a game of 304 would begin, lasting the whole morning.
After a lunch of rice, Haak,a leafy vegetable peculiar to Kashmir, dam aloo or khatte baigan, paneer or a bit of non-veg whenever available [mutton had to be brought from Anant Nag] everyone rested for some time. At about 4 pm the company re-appeared at the char chinar. This time someone would bring a samovar and a round of sheer-chai [tea with milk and salt] would go round, along with hukka-smoking and all the gossip available.
The gathering would disperse by about 6 pm so that everyone could be home while there was still some day-light. There was no electricity and petromaxes were expensive, lanterns gave out weak glows, beams of light, sufficient to eat dinner and go to bed. The ‘early to bed and early to rise,’ practice was prevalent.
Traveling was difficult.The nearest bus station was in Matan, about three miles away. One had to walk all the way, unless one could ride a horse. A visit to Srinagar [the state capital] required a few preparations, a change of decent clothes, generally borrowed from grandma’s house, arrangements to stay in the big town, and the timing of the bus to travel to Srinagar as the bus stand was not near the village. Consequently travel was kept to a minimum and undertaken when absolutely necessary. Otherwise life in the village was self-sufficient.
I was quite enthusiastic to spend my summer vacation in this village. But it was a big change from the life-style I was used to. I missed electricity at sun-down as hordes of mosquitoes attacked us and we had no way to defend ourselves. ‘No electricity’ meant we had to use lanterns and the light was not enough to read or write. We had to have our dinner between 6 to 7pm, and go to bed soon after. After 7pm the entire village came to a stand still. There was no night life.
After a week I was bored and keen to get out. But I still have memories of roses, kinas, marigold, bougainvillea, honeysuckle, sunflowers, champa and bella growing all over. Our picnics along the river front and hapatnar,[the bear-den] were very enjoyable and relaxed. Hapat-nar was situated in a gorge wooded by tall deodars. In the thick of the jungle, there was a mandir. We spent three nights in this temple. At night, we were visited by curious bears who played many pranks and watched by us from behind steel doors and windows. The trek to and fro was done on foot and we had to move in broad day light only.
1930s Lahore, through the eyes of a 5-year-old
It was early 30s. We were living in Chakwal, a sleepy town tucked away in the heartland of west Punjab. It was a life without any colour as there were no clubs, movie houses, restaurants or even parks. There was no radio. TV and computers were decades away. Father, a man of verve and a lot of energy was bored in this hole and wanted to look around a bit. He decided to visit Lahore where there was a lot of hustle and bustle as it was the capital of the Imperial Punjab, a very big province that covered modern Pakistani Punjab, Indian Punjab, Himachal and Haryana.
Lahore was the hub of intellectual, cultural, and social life. Also it was the center of political, educational and business activity in the Punjab, Jammu and Kashmir, and North West Frontier Province. covering Peshawar, Multan and the Tribal areas.All colleges in these areas including Jammu and Kashmir state were affiliated to the Punjab University based in Lahore. [There was an aura of respect attached to its name as for every university educated person in the entire region the Punjab University was the Alma mater. Father who had graduated from Shri Pratap College in Srinagar was very keen to show me the institution which had conferred the degree on him.
Four of us [father, mother, my older sister and me] took a train from Chakwal . Next morning at the Lahore Railway station I was woken up by the venders’ shouts of “Hindu dal-roti and Muslim gosht roti”. This was a novel experience for me. As a kid I did not know that there could be a thing like Hindu roti. More surprise was in store. When I looked out of the window I saw small hoardings announcing “ Hindu Paani and Muslim Paani’ I wondered how did the Muslim pani taste?
At the platform we were met by a smartly dressed young man who asked father “Do you need hotel accommodation, Sir?”
When father said “yes” he took charge of our luggage while we went to a Second Class Dinning Room for an English Breakfast of eggs, bacon, sausges, jam, butter , toast and tea or coffee. This whopping breakfast served by bearers wearing long white gloves and white flowing gowns, cost one rupee and twelve annas [about one rupee and seventy five paise] per head. Father left a tip of one rupee and the bearers lined up to give him a ‘furshi salam.’
As we came out of the Dinning Room, the young man told father that he had fixed our hotel and arranged for a taxi to show us around. The taxi, an imported seven-seater Pontiac, would charge four annas [ about twenty five paise ] per mile.
Soon we were on our way to “an English hotel” on the famous Mac load road, which was adjacent to the mall road. All the important buildings like the Governor’s residence, the Secretariat etc were on this road. These buildings were guarded by smartly turned out soldiers carrying 303 rifles. Among them were indomitable Gurkhas in khaki shorts and stockings with gleaming khukris dangling from their sides, ferocious looking Sikhs and six-footer jats. in their colourful head gear. I felt quite excited seeing some British sahibs, smoking cigars, being driven by liveried chauffeurs. Father told us these people were senior Government Officers.
After a hot water bath [ghusul,as it was called then] we went out to see Lahore. The Pontiac first rook us to see Anarkali, the main shopping centre. The bazaar was full of shops selling saris, from Banaras, silks from Kashmir and Mysore, and cotton from Kota in Rajasthan and muslin from Dacca in Bengal. There were woolens for suiting, from Manchester, England, cottons for shirting from Bombay and silks and cotton for all purposes. My impression is that the shops were full of customers and the shop assistants were busy showing their wares. There was a lot of hustle and bustle in the market place and crowds were moving slowly rubbing shoulders with one another.
At the famous Harnam Singh’s shop we were served puris, bhujea, achar, dhahi and very tall glasses of lassi. This was the only Hindustani treat allowed by father who basically believed in meats, curries, and roast. Later the taxi took us to a white area [ around mall road] where I was impressed to see gori mem sahibs wearing their fancy hats sipping tea with muffins and scones. Father said the goras don’t eat samosas, mathis, or jelabis. Being a white area British firms like Nestles, Spencer’s, and Johnson’s were located here. There were big turbaned pathans and black capped gurkha guards at the door. The entire area seemed quiet and very orderly.
From there we went to Company Garden, with beautiful and manicured plants and trees. Its lawns and rose gardens attracted me immensely. This was my utopia and I was happy wandering among the trees and shrubs. Its expanse was vast and it was full of kiaries [beds] of roses, hena, champa and chambeli, canas, marigold and sunflower. There were many more flowers of which I don’t know the names. However it is my impression that the garden was full of different types of flowers. Senior Governments officials and some white couples were out for their ‘constitutional’ Their babies were in their prams pushed by their Indian nannies. We went round the garden as the Sun was going down. Soon everybody withdrew for a scotch and soda before dinner. It was time to return to the hotel and retire for the night after a meal of mixed salad, motton chops, Hungarian Goulash followed by cheeses with crackers and caramel pudding .
Next morning we went to see the Moghul garden where Jehangir is buried.. He died on his way back from Kashmir and his queen Noor Jehan built a lovely mausoleum in a vast garden of great beauty and splendour. From there we went to the Punjab University, to which all the colleges in the Punjab, NWFP, Jammu and Kashmir were affiliated. Father was very keen for me to see this ‘temple of learning’. He told me results of all the examinations at senior levels are tabulated here and the degrees [like the Bachelor of Arts, B A or M A] are awarded by this ‘great institution.’ Several decades later I came here to do my course in Journalism.
After a cup of hot coffee in the Coffee House, we moved to Mozang, a new area being developed by builders for rich and influential Indians. The area was dotted with pretty bungalows and the shops in this part of Lahore were not crowded as most of them were selling quality goods. Somewhere on the way Father pointed to the Estate of Raja Narinder Nath, the senior most Kasmir-born Indian civil servant of the Raj. The house built in vast grounds seemed like a palace to me.
Mother was very keen to visit a particular temple somewhere in the old town. I remember the taxi took us through a very big Darwaza [gate] on to a narrow lane. After going a little distance we were told ‘from here you will have to walk as the taxi cannot go any further.’ At the temple we all performed the puja and came out with tilaks. It looked a bit incongruous to me to go back to our English hotel wearing tilaks. But not to Father, who synthesized in himself the ‘English Gentleman’ and the upper class Indian. Though he liked English [ Indo-British] food, their dress[he used to import derby shoes from England] he was 100% Indian in the matter of social behavior. I remember in Mardan [cantonment town in the Western Frontier Province ] wife of the Political Agent, the English head of the administration, used to come to Father’s office for a regular tete-a-tete with him. Incidentally Father was a six footer, fair complexioned man with a well proportioned body of great strength. In his college he was captain of the foot ball team and in Mardan he had a tennis court in his house where my school Principal played tennis with me.
Our trip was wound up after attending a concert of music where. among others, Kundan Lal Sehgal, a great musical hit of those days gave a live performance. All of us were excited to hear him live on the stage. It was like a grand finale to our visit.
Lahore was the hub of intellectual, cultural, and social life. Also it was the center of political, educational and business activity in the Punjab, Jammu and Kashmir, and North West Frontier Province. covering Peshawar, Multan and the Tribal areas.All colleges in these areas including Jammu and Kashmir state were affiliated to the Punjab University based in Lahore. [There was an aura of respect attached to its name as for every university educated person in the entire region the Punjab University was the Alma mater. Father who had graduated from Shri Pratap College in Srinagar was very keen to show me the institution which had conferred the degree on him.
Four of us [father, mother, my older sister and me] took a train from Chakwal . Next morning at the Lahore Railway station I was woken up by the venders’ shouts of “Hindu dal-roti and Muslim gosht roti”. This was a novel experience for me. As a kid I did not know that there could be a thing like Hindu roti. More surprise was in store. When I looked out of the window I saw small hoardings announcing “ Hindu Paani and Muslim Paani’ I wondered how did the Muslim pani taste?
At the platform we were met by a smartly dressed young man who asked father “Do you need hotel accommodation, Sir?”
When father said “yes” he took charge of our luggage while we went to a Second Class Dinning Room for an English Breakfast of eggs, bacon, sausges, jam, butter , toast and tea or coffee. This whopping breakfast served by bearers wearing long white gloves and white flowing gowns, cost one rupee and twelve annas [about one rupee and seventy five paise] per head. Father left a tip of one rupee and the bearers lined up to give him a ‘furshi salam.’
As we came out of the Dinning Room, the young man told father that he had fixed our hotel and arranged for a taxi to show us around. The taxi, an imported seven-seater Pontiac, would charge four annas [ about twenty five paise ] per mile.
Soon we were on our way to “an English hotel” on the famous Mac load road, which was adjacent to the mall road. All the important buildings like the Governor’s residence, the Secretariat etc were on this road. These buildings were guarded by smartly turned out soldiers carrying 303 rifles. Among them were indomitable Gurkhas in khaki shorts and stockings with gleaming khukris dangling from their sides, ferocious looking Sikhs and six-footer jats. in their colourful head gear. I felt quite excited seeing some British sahibs, smoking cigars, being driven by liveried chauffeurs. Father told us these people were senior Government Officers.
After a hot water bath [ghusul,as it was called then] we went out to see Lahore. The Pontiac first rook us to see Anarkali, the main shopping centre. The bazaar was full of shops selling saris, from Banaras, silks from Kashmir and Mysore, and cotton from Kota in Rajasthan and muslin from Dacca in Bengal. There were woolens for suiting, from Manchester, England, cottons for shirting from Bombay and silks and cotton for all purposes. My impression is that the shops were full of customers and the shop assistants were busy showing their wares. There was a lot of hustle and bustle in the market place and crowds were moving slowly rubbing shoulders with one another.
At the famous Harnam Singh’s shop we were served puris, bhujea, achar, dhahi and very tall glasses of lassi. This was the only Hindustani treat allowed by father who basically believed in meats, curries, and roast. Later the taxi took us to a white area [ around mall road] where I was impressed to see gori mem sahibs wearing their fancy hats sipping tea with muffins and scones. Father said the goras don’t eat samosas, mathis, or jelabis. Being a white area British firms like Nestles, Spencer’s, and Johnson’s were located here. There were big turbaned pathans and black capped gurkha guards at the door. The entire area seemed quiet and very orderly.
From there we went to Company Garden, with beautiful and manicured plants and trees. Its lawns and rose gardens attracted me immensely. This was my utopia and I was happy wandering among the trees and shrubs. Its expanse was vast and it was full of kiaries [beds] of roses, hena, champa and chambeli, canas, marigold and sunflower. There were many more flowers of which I don’t know the names. However it is my impression that the garden was full of different types of flowers. Senior Governments officials and some white couples were out for their ‘constitutional’ Their babies were in their prams pushed by their Indian nannies. We went round the garden as the Sun was going down. Soon everybody withdrew for a scotch and soda before dinner. It was time to return to the hotel and retire for the night after a meal of mixed salad, motton chops, Hungarian Goulash followed by cheeses with crackers and caramel pudding .
Next morning we went to see the Moghul garden where Jehangir is buried.. He died on his way back from Kashmir and his queen Noor Jehan built a lovely mausoleum in a vast garden of great beauty and splendour. From there we went to the Punjab University, to which all the colleges in the Punjab, NWFP, Jammu and Kashmir were affiliated. Father was very keen for me to see this ‘temple of learning’. He told me results of all the examinations at senior levels are tabulated here and the degrees [like the Bachelor of Arts, B A or M A] are awarded by this ‘great institution.’ Several decades later I came here to do my course in Journalism.
After a cup of hot coffee in the Coffee House, we moved to Mozang, a new area being developed by builders for rich and influential Indians. The area was dotted with pretty bungalows and the shops in this part of Lahore were not crowded as most of them were selling quality goods. Somewhere on the way Father pointed to the Estate of Raja Narinder Nath, the senior most Kasmir-born Indian civil servant of the Raj. The house built in vast grounds seemed like a palace to me.
Mother was very keen to visit a particular temple somewhere in the old town. I remember the taxi took us through a very big Darwaza [gate] on to a narrow lane. After going a little distance we were told ‘from here you will have to walk as the taxi cannot go any further.’ At the temple we all performed the puja and came out with tilaks. It looked a bit incongruous to me to go back to our English hotel wearing tilaks. But not to Father, who synthesized in himself the ‘English Gentleman’ and the upper class Indian. Though he liked English [ Indo-British] food, their dress[he used to import derby shoes from England] he was 100% Indian in the matter of social behavior. I remember in Mardan [cantonment town in the Western Frontier Province ] wife of the Political Agent, the English head of the administration, used to come to Father’s office for a regular tete-a-tete with him. Incidentally Father was a six footer, fair complexioned man with a well proportioned body of great strength. In his college he was captain of the foot ball team and in Mardan he had a tennis court in his house where my school Principal played tennis with me.
Our trip was wound up after attending a concert of music where. among others, Kundan Lal Sehgal, a great musical hit of those days gave a live performance. All of us were excited to hear him live on the stage. It was like a grand finale to our visit.
Friday, May 1, 2009
Delhi Darshan 1936
Delhi Darshan 1936
Father re-married in the summer of 1935, only six months after my mothers’ death in Campbelpur, the headquarters of Attock District on the border of the North Western Province of British India. He brought his new wife and me, his son, to Jammu, the winter capital of Jammu and Kashmir state. We had a very big house, a wonderful cook, a maid, and a night guard. Father was fond of lavish living and eating in style.
Soon father decided to take a break and travel a bit. It was the winter of 1936/37. We left Jammu by train and got off at Amritsar, where we went to see the Golden Temple. The temple built in a pool, with a gold canopy, overawed us. Inside the singing by granthis was melodious and very pleasing to the ears. After paying obeisance at the temple we went for lunch to a vegetarian restaurant in the heart of the city. We were served thalis which had twety five katoris [vegetarian dishes] in each of them. The meal lasted for more than an hour.
Next morning we arrived in Delhi [the imperial capital]. Outside the railway station was a big ‘hotel’ in which we were given a suite, comprising a hall, a bedroom with an attached bathroom and a small ante-room. Here we were treated as real VIPs, breakfast with eggs to order, ham, jam, cheese, butter and toast with tea or coffee. Lunch and dinner were one non-veg, two veggies, rice or biryani and tandoori roti. For all this board and lodging we were charged Rs.18 a day.
Father called for a taxi to show us around. The day-long trip took us to Kutab Minar, the tower built by Kutbuddin Aibak before the advent of Mughul rule. The tower has 365 stairs and I climbed them all to reach the top. Next to the tower there is an Ashoka pillar dating back to Emperor Ashoka’s time. Though it is made of metal there is no rust even after so many centuries.
Next we saw Humayun’s tomb, a beautiful mausoleum, where the last Mughal emperor, Bhadur Shah Zaffar, retreated after Delhi was captured by the British in 1857. Its sprawling lawns and terraced gardens are very beautiful.
From here we went to Lal Qila, Red Fort, built by the Mughal emperor Shah Jahan, who also built the world-famous Taj Mahal in Agra. Red Fort reminds one of the grandeur of the Mughals who ruled India for more than seven generations. Dewan-e-am and Dewan-e-khas are halls where the kings used to hold court, Dewan-e-am for the general public to hear their petitions etc and Dewan-e-khas where he conferred with his courtiers, generals and advisers. The famous peacock throne was in one of these halls. The harem where the begmat lived has a hall with mirrors studded in the walls and the ceiling to enable the court ladies to see their dresses from all angles of their body. There was arrangement for bathing in hot water.
It was an ingenious arrangement as water came into a small pool to enable the bather to relax in hot water as one can do today in a bathing tub. During the Mughal days a canal ran through the fort. Water in the canal came from the Jamuna.
The fort has much more to offer, the small museum where there are royal dresses, and Col Niclson’s uniform with the bullet hole that killed him. In side the compound there is Moti Masjid where the king used to offer nimaz. It is a very beautiful mosque and during Moghal times it was studded with jewels.
The famed mena bazaar has small shops selling, itars [Indian perfumes], jewelry, artifacts, and ivory goods. This bazaar exists from Mughal times.
From the fort the taxi took us to see the Secretariat, the vice-regal palace [now Rashtripati Bhavan], Parliament House and Cannaught place [the main shopping centre of New Delhi]. On our return to the hotel Father asked for the bill for going round. It was Rs15 including the charges for the guide. When father paid the driver he said “Sir, some Baikshish for me and the guide”. Father gave him Rs 5. He was overjoyed and gave Father a ‘furshi salam’ [a bow almost touching the ground].
I was very impressed with the grandeur of New Delhi and wished I lived there, a wish fulfilled in 1947, more than a decade later, when I joined Nehru’s staff .
In 1936 Delhi had an old world charm and people were very polite and helpful. The language was Urdu and it was full of polite phrases. What is your name, was ‘ap ka ism-e-sharif?’
Where are you from was, ap ka daulat-khana kahan hai’? Similarly no-one said ‘sit down please’ but ‘tashrif rakhian’.
Today Delhi has become part of Haryana culturally, linguistically and emotionally. Indiscipline, rudeness, road rage, the craze for partying, drinking and brawling has become part of Delhi life. God be praised.
Father re-married in the summer of 1935, only six months after my mothers’ death in Campbelpur, the headquarters of Attock District on the border of the North Western Province of British India. He brought his new wife and me, his son, to Jammu, the winter capital of Jammu and Kashmir state. We had a very big house, a wonderful cook, a maid, and a night guard. Father was fond of lavish living and eating in style.
Soon father decided to take a break and travel a bit. It was the winter of 1936/37. We left Jammu by train and got off at Amritsar, where we went to see the Golden Temple. The temple built in a pool, with a gold canopy, overawed us. Inside the singing by granthis was melodious and very pleasing to the ears. After paying obeisance at the temple we went for lunch to a vegetarian restaurant in the heart of the city. We were served thalis which had twety five katoris [vegetarian dishes] in each of them. The meal lasted for more than an hour.
Next morning we arrived in Delhi [the imperial capital]. Outside the railway station was a big ‘hotel’ in which we were given a suite, comprising a hall, a bedroom with an attached bathroom and a small ante-room. Here we were treated as real VIPs, breakfast with eggs to order, ham, jam, cheese, butter and toast with tea or coffee. Lunch and dinner were one non-veg, two veggies, rice or biryani and tandoori roti. For all this board and lodging we were charged Rs.18 a day.
Father called for a taxi to show us around. The day-long trip took us to Kutab Minar, the tower built by Kutbuddin Aibak before the advent of Mughul rule. The tower has 365 stairs and I climbed them all to reach the top. Next to the tower there is an Ashoka pillar dating back to Emperor Ashoka’s time. Though it is made of metal there is no rust even after so many centuries.
Next we saw Humayun’s tomb, a beautiful mausoleum, where the last Mughal emperor, Bhadur Shah Zaffar, retreated after Delhi was captured by the British in 1857. Its sprawling lawns and terraced gardens are very beautiful.
From here we went to Lal Qila, Red Fort, built by the Mughal emperor Shah Jahan, who also built the world-famous Taj Mahal in Agra. Red Fort reminds one of the grandeur of the Mughals who ruled India for more than seven generations. Dewan-e-am and Dewan-e-khas are halls where the kings used to hold court, Dewan-e-am for the general public to hear their petitions etc and Dewan-e-khas where he conferred with his courtiers, generals and advisers. The famous peacock throne was in one of these halls. The harem where the begmat lived has a hall with mirrors studded in the walls and the ceiling to enable the court ladies to see their dresses from all angles of their body. There was arrangement for bathing in hot water.
It was an ingenious arrangement as water came into a small pool to enable the bather to relax in hot water as one can do today in a bathing tub. During the Mughal days a canal ran through the fort. Water in the canal came from the Jamuna.
The fort has much more to offer, the small museum where there are royal dresses, and Col Niclson’s uniform with the bullet hole that killed him. In side the compound there is Moti Masjid where the king used to offer nimaz. It is a very beautiful mosque and during Moghal times it was studded with jewels.
The famed mena bazaar has small shops selling, itars [Indian perfumes], jewelry, artifacts, and ivory goods. This bazaar exists from Mughal times.
From the fort the taxi took us to see the Secretariat, the vice-regal palace [now Rashtripati Bhavan], Parliament House and Cannaught place [the main shopping centre of New Delhi]. On our return to the hotel Father asked for the bill for going round. It was Rs15 including the charges for the guide. When father paid the driver he said “Sir, some Baikshish for me and the guide”. Father gave him Rs 5. He was overjoyed and gave Father a ‘furshi salam’ [a bow almost touching the ground].
I was very impressed with the grandeur of New Delhi and wished I lived there, a wish fulfilled in 1947, more than a decade later, when I joined Nehru’s staff .
In 1936 Delhi had an old world charm and people were very polite and helpful. The language was Urdu and it was full of polite phrases. What is your name, was ‘ap ka ism-e-sharif?’
Where are you from was, ap ka daulat-khana kahan hai’? Similarly no-one said ‘sit down please’ but ‘tashrif rakhian’.
Today Delhi has become part of Haryana culturally, linguistically and emotionally. Indiscipline, rudeness, road rage, the craze for partying, drinking and brawling has become part of Delhi life. God be praised.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Quotable Thursday
I'm joining the Quotable Thursday over at Terataii Reiki and Counselling with this quotation from Shakespeare's Hamlet:... there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Counter Radicalism
Sanity Forum
It is time a sanity forum is floated in India. We have had too much blood letting in the name of religion, caste, and honour killings. Why do we need a terror strike of the type in Mumbai to stir our feelings to say ‘enough is enough ’We have 2nd largest population of Muslims in the world. In addition we have a large number of Christians, Sikhs, and others. There is also ethnic, racial and linguistic variety. But over the centuries we have lived side by side and worked side by side, peacefully and with understanding of each others’ faith . .
Let us take a leaf from our history, Akbar , who ruled most of the present-day India, Pakistan and parts of Afghanistan adopted ‘secularism.’ He established rapport with his Hindu subjects by abolishing Jhajia [the tax collected from non-Muslims] formed an alliance with the Hindu warriors by marrying a Hindu, who retained her faith even after becoming the queen. He showed equal respect for different faiths. He laid the foundations of the Mohgal kingdom that last for several generations as the people of India considered Mohgals rulers as Indian and owed allegiance to them. This happened several centuries ago because there was a man with a vision.
In modern times similar efforts were made by leaders like Mahatma Gqandhi, Jawaharlal Nehru, Maulana Azad and a host of others. They succeeded in stemming the rot spread by Jinnah ,Liaqat Ali Khan and others and establish peace and communal harmony in India. However in Pakistan bigotry was practiced as government policy and even Shia, Bhora and Qadiani Muslims were declared as ‘minorities’ denying them equal rights.
Army Generals like Zia-ul-Huk and Yaya Khan radicalized the country so that they could rule without any challenge to their authority. They set the direction and the self seeking clerics brainwashed young men in the madrassas to produce ‘terrorists’ Today Pakstani terror is looking inwards and spoiling to radicalize the entire country from Swat in the north west to Punjab and Sindh in the east. It is rising like a killer typhoon which can spread beyond the national borders of Pakistan. America, which was privy to the generals’ rule, is now worried that it might blow up the entire world if the ‘mad men’ succeed in laying their hands on the nuclear arsenal of Pakistan. The American answer is ‘limited army action’ The question is; will it succeed?
Radicalization cannot be eradicated by force. It is engendered in the mind and unless we change the mindset of the people nothing can stop the hate preachers. We need to reform the madrassas [Muslim as well as Hindu and of other denominations].Fortunately in India we have a large base of sane population who don’t get enough exposure in he media which is playing the disaster news. We should encourage sane voices to spread the message of secularism, peace and harmony. I propose these measures.
1; Persuade Bolywood producers to make films with mixed casts and stories covering people of different faiths like Amar, Akbar, Anthony.
2; Encourage schools to inculcate secularism along with patriotism by adopting songs like Iqbals’tarana yeh Hindustan hmara …
3;Start a scouting movement [open to every body of any age] to help general public to deal with the bureaucracy by invoking the right to information act, with the corporate sector by using the buyers forums. The scouts should belong to different faiths.
4; Persuade known people like Amitab Bachhan, Shah Rukh Khan, artists like F. M. Hussain, singers like Asha Bhonsle and A. R. Rehman to raise their voice publicly in favour of secularism and harmony between the different communities.
5; Make it obligatory on the media to reserve 2% of their advertising space/time to publicise exhortations like Hindi hain hum Hindustan hamara.
A campaign to make people aware of the rising danger and the need to meet the challenge ideologically. We should also use our diplomatic service to tell foreign governments about the rising dangers from terrorism in parts of Pakistan. Our media thrust to Pakistan should be based on peace and cordial neighborly relations.
It is time a sanity forum is floated in India. We have had too much blood letting in the name of religion, caste, and honour killings. Why do we need a terror strike of the type in Mumbai to stir our feelings to say ‘enough is enough ’We have 2nd largest population of Muslims in the world. In addition we have a large number of Christians, Sikhs, and others. There is also ethnic, racial and linguistic variety. But over the centuries we have lived side by side and worked side by side, peacefully and with understanding of each others’ faith . .
Let us take a leaf from our history, Akbar , who ruled most of the present-day India, Pakistan and parts of Afghanistan adopted ‘secularism.’ He established rapport with his Hindu subjects by abolishing Jhajia [the tax collected from non-Muslims] formed an alliance with the Hindu warriors by marrying a Hindu, who retained her faith even after becoming the queen. He showed equal respect for different faiths. He laid the foundations of the Mohgal kingdom that last for several generations as the people of India considered Mohgals rulers as Indian and owed allegiance to them. This happened several centuries ago because there was a man with a vision.
In modern times similar efforts were made by leaders like Mahatma Gqandhi, Jawaharlal Nehru, Maulana Azad and a host of others. They succeeded in stemming the rot spread by Jinnah ,Liaqat Ali Khan and others and establish peace and communal harmony in India. However in Pakistan bigotry was practiced as government policy and even Shia, Bhora and Qadiani Muslims were declared as ‘minorities’ denying them equal rights.
Army Generals like Zia-ul-Huk and Yaya Khan radicalized the country so that they could rule without any challenge to their authority. They set the direction and the self seeking clerics brainwashed young men in the madrassas to produce ‘terrorists’ Today Pakstani terror is looking inwards and spoiling to radicalize the entire country from Swat in the north west to Punjab and Sindh in the east. It is rising like a killer typhoon which can spread beyond the national borders of Pakistan. America, which was privy to the generals’ rule, is now worried that it might blow up the entire world if the ‘mad men’ succeed in laying their hands on the nuclear arsenal of Pakistan. The American answer is ‘limited army action’ The question is; will it succeed?
Radicalization cannot be eradicated by force. It is engendered in the mind and unless we change the mindset of the people nothing can stop the hate preachers. We need to reform the madrassas [Muslim as well as Hindu and of other denominations].Fortunately in India we have a large base of sane population who don’t get enough exposure in he media which is playing the disaster news. We should encourage sane voices to spread the message of secularism, peace and harmony. I propose these measures.
1; Persuade Bolywood producers to make films with mixed casts and stories covering people of different faiths like Amar, Akbar, Anthony.
2; Encourage schools to inculcate secularism along with patriotism by adopting songs like Iqbals’tarana yeh Hindustan hmara …
3;Start a scouting movement [open to every body of any age] to help general public to deal with the bureaucracy by invoking the right to information act, with the corporate sector by using the buyers forums. The scouts should belong to different faiths.
4; Persuade known people like Amitab Bachhan, Shah Rukh Khan, artists like F. M. Hussain, singers like Asha Bhonsle and A. R. Rehman to raise their voice publicly in favour of secularism and harmony between the different communities.
5; Make it obligatory on the media to reserve 2% of their advertising space/time to publicise exhortations like Hindi hain hum Hindustan hamara.
A campaign to make people aware of the rising danger and the need to meet the challenge ideologically. We should also use our diplomatic service to tell foreign governments about the rising dangers from terrorism in parts of Pakistan. Our media thrust to Pakistan should be based on peace and cordial neighborly relations.
How Kashmir joined Indian Union?
Kashmir
The State of Jammu and Kashmir acceded to India legally on October 27th 1947 when the Maharaja, His Highness, Sir Hari Singh signed the Instrument of Accession to India and gave it to V P Menon, Secretary in the Ministry of States[Home] who flew with it to Delhi. Menon had earlier gone to Jammu, the winter capital of the state at the request of the Maharaja who had run away from his summer capital, Srinagar in the face of the invaders from Pakistan. In Jammu the Maharaja contacted [on phone] the Governor General, at night and requested for military help to stem the invasion. He was told that army could be sent only if the state acceded to India and became legally part of India. On his agreeing to sign the document Menon was commissioned to get it.
Under the Instrument of Accession the states acceding to India ceded only four subjects to the “ Federal Government”
These were: Defence, External Affairs, Communication and Currency.
In other matters the States were independent.
Jawharlal Nehru, the Prime Minister, insisted that the Maharaja hand over power to people’s representatives. Consequently Sheik Mohammad Abdulah, the President of the National Conference, the largest party in the state was made the Adminstrator of the state pending elections to a properly elected assembly. Sheik Abdullah, who flew to Srinagar with the first regiment of Indian troops had to set up an emergency administration.
Earlier administration had disintegrated with the departure of the Mharaja from Srinagar [the Summer capital of the state] in a cavalcade of twenty cars along with his entire family and movable assets. Maharaja’s flight in the face of the advancing hordes from Pakistan is graphically described by his son Dr. Karan Singh, who was part of the motorcade in his book titled the Heirapparent.
It is interesting to know why the people of Kashmir valley chose to join India rather than Pakistan in 1947 when India was partitioned by the British on communal lines. Here was a state with a Muslim majority and a Hindu Maharaja who was unwilling to join India whereas the National Conference, the most popular party with a very large Muslim base was keen to join India. Part of the answer is in the history of Kashmir before the advent of the Dogra rule. When Maharaja Gulab Singh of Jammu offered money to the Sikh Durbar to enable it to pay reparations to the British, the valley was ruled by a Muslim who owed his allegiance to Kabul. The Pathan rule in the valley was despotic and the people rebelled against it at one time. This was followed by brutal repression by the Pathan soldiers.
The Dogra army was equally brutal but with the stationing of the British Resident in Srinagar a government with certain rules and regulations and a system of justice was soon established.
The people of Kashmir were very impressed with the Independence movement spearheaded by the Indian National Congress and the demand for the establishment of a responsible government. They agitated for a free and independent assembly and forced the Maharaja, Sir Hari Singh to establish a diarchy in the state. Two of the ministers were chosen from among the partly elected assembly. Mirza Afzul Beg, one of the ministers, belonged to the National Conference. The Prime Minister was a nominee of the Political Department of the British Government in Delhi. Sir Gopala Sawmi Ayyangar, who was respected in Kashmir, was one of the last such Prime Ministers.
By this time the Independence Movement had become very vibrant in India and the Mahatma launched the ‘Quit India’ campaign in August 1942.Followimg the Quit India movement Sheik Abdullah, President of the Jammu and Kashmir National Conference launched ‘Quit Kashmir’ movement. He asked the Maharaja to end the Dogra rule and hand over power to an elected assembly. He was promptly arrested and put in jail and tried for treason. Jawaharlal Nehru went to Kashmir to defend Sheik Abdullah but was not allowed to enter the territory of the state. He was stopped at Kohala the border.
I had a chance in Delhi to talk to the then Prime Minister Ram Chand Kak about that incident and his answer surprised me. He said neither the Maharaja nor he thought that the British would relinquish power completely on leaving India on August 1947.
The people of Kashmir had great faith in Nehru who used to say ‘sovereignty lies with the people and not the Princes’. Jinnah on the other hand had said that it was the prerogative of the Princes to choose either India or Pakistan or Independence. He was thinking of Hyderabad, and his plan to carve out a corridor through India with the connivance of Nawab of Bhopal and some other Princes.
Nehru’s insistence to pass on power to the people of Kashmir before accepting the accession made him a darling of the people who were keen to get rid of the Dogra rule and establish a popular Government.
Autonomy for the internal matters in Jammu and Kashmir was not a gift of India but part of the instrument of accession. Nehru, responding to the will of the people in Kashmir, only gave recognition to it. A Pakistani author Sufi Mohammad Akbar has written about it in his book ’Kashur’ published by the Oxford Press. Both, Sufi Mohammad Akbar and Sheik Mohammad Abdullah were together in Aligarh University. After 1947 they met in New York as both were members of their country’s delegations to the UN Security Council. Sufi Mohammad Akbar asked Sheik Abdullah why did he choose India and not Pakistan, Abdullah told him because ‘ Nehru promised us Azadi’. He was referring to autonomy, the azadi to choose their own government freely.
It was the denial of this freedom for four decades which led to militancy in the valley. Once free elections were held in the state, the people of Kashmir lost interest in fighting the Indian forces. Today the terrorists come from across the borders from Pakistan. They are supported by the ISI, the inter services intelligence agency of Pakistan. India demands that Pakistan should dismantle the training camps set up on Pakistani territory. Even the US President, Obama has asked Pakistan to wind up the terrorist infrastructure so that peace can be restored in the entire region including Afghanistan.
The State of Jammu and Kashmir acceded to India legally on October 27th 1947 when the Maharaja, His Highness, Sir Hari Singh signed the Instrument of Accession to India and gave it to V P Menon, Secretary in the Ministry of States[Home] who flew with it to Delhi. Menon had earlier gone to Jammu, the winter capital of the state at the request of the Maharaja who had run away from his summer capital, Srinagar in the face of the invaders from Pakistan. In Jammu the Maharaja contacted [on phone] the Governor General, at night and requested for military help to stem the invasion. He was told that army could be sent only if the state acceded to India and became legally part of India. On his agreeing to sign the document Menon was commissioned to get it.
Under the Instrument of Accession the states acceding to India ceded only four subjects to the “ Federal Government”
These were: Defence, External Affairs, Communication and Currency.
In other matters the States were independent.
Jawharlal Nehru, the Prime Minister, insisted that the Maharaja hand over power to people’s representatives. Consequently Sheik Mohammad Abdulah, the President of the National Conference, the largest party in the state was made the Adminstrator of the state pending elections to a properly elected assembly. Sheik Abdullah, who flew to Srinagar with the first regiment of Indian troops had to set up an emergency administration.
Earlier administration had disintegrated with the departure of the Mharaja from Srinagar [the Summer capital of the state] in a cavalcade of twenty cars along with his entire family and movable assets. Maharaja’s flight in the face of the advancing hordes from Pakistan is graphically described by his son Dr. Karan Singh, who was part of the motorcade in his book titled the Heirapparent.
It is interesting to know why the people of Kashmir valley chose to join India rather than Pakistan in 1947 when India was partitioned by the British on communal lines. Here was a state with a Muslim majority and a Hindu Maharaja who was unwilling to join India whereas the National Conference, the most popular party with a very large Muslim base was keen to join India. Part of the answer is in the history of Kashmir before the advent of the Dogra rule. When Maharaja Gulab Singh of Jammu offered money to the Sikh Durbar to enable it to pay reparations to the British, the valley was ruled by a Muslim who owed his allegiance to Kabul. The Pathan rule in the valley was despotic and the people rebelled against it at one time. This was followed by brutal repression by the Pathan soldiers.
The Dogra army was equally brutal but with the stationing of the British Resident in Srinagar a government with certain rules and regulations and a system of justice was soon established.
The people of Kashmir were very impressed with the Independence movement spearheaded by the Indian National Congress and the demand for the establishment of a responsible government. They agitated for a free and independent assembly and forced the Maharaja, Sir Hari Singh to establish a diarchy in the state. Two of the ministers were chosen from among the partly elected assembly. Mirza Afzul Beg, one of the ministers, belonged to the National Conference. The Prime Minister was a nominee of the Political Department of the British Government in Delhi. Sir Gopala Sawmi Ayyangar, who was respected in Kashmir, was one of the last such Prime Ministers.
By this time the Independence Movement had become very vibrant in India and the Mahatma launched the ‘Quit India’ campaign in August 1942.Followimg the Quit India movement Sheik Abdullah, President of the Jammu and Kashmir National Conference launched ‘Quit Kashmir’ movement. He asked the Maharaja to end the Dogra rule and hand over power to an elected assembly. He was promptly arrested and put in jail and tried for treason. Jawaharlal Nehru went to Kashmir to defend Sheik Abdullah but was not allowed to enter the territory of the state. He was stopped at Kohala the border.
I had a chance in Delhi to talk to the then Prime Minister Ram Chand Kak about that incident and his answer surprised me. He said neither the Maharaja nor he thought that the British would relinquish power completely on leaving India on August 1947.
The people of Kashmir had great faith in Nehru who used to say ‘sovereignty lies with the people and not the Princes’. Jinnah on the other hand had said that it was the prerogative of the Princes to choose either India or Pakistan or Independence. He was thinking of Hyderabad, and his plan to carve out a corridor through India with the connivance of Nawab of Bhopal and some other Princes.
Nehru’s insistence to pass on power to the people of Kashmir before accepting the accession made him a darling of the people who were keen to get rid of the Dogra rule and establish a popular Government.
Autonomy for the internal matters in Jammu and Kashmir was not a gift of India but part of the instrument of accession. Nehru, responding to the will of the people in Kashmir, only gave recognition to it. A Pakistani author Sufi Mohammad Akbar has written about it in his book ’Kashur’ published by the Oxford Press. Both, Sufi Mohammad Akbar and Sheik Mohammad Abdullah were together in Aligarh University. After 1947 they met in New York as both were members of their country’s delegations to the UN Security Council. Sufi Mohammad Akbar asked Sheik Abdullah why did he choose India and not Pakistan, Abdullah told him because ‘ Nehru promised us Azadi’. He was referring to autonomy, the azadi to choose their own government freely.
It was the denial of this freedom for four decades which led to militancy in the valley. Once free elections were held in the state, the people of Kashmir lost interest in fighting the Indian forces. Today the terrorists come from across the borders from Pakistan. They are supported by the ISI, the inter services intelligence agency of Pakistan. India demands that Pakistan should dismantle the training camps set up on Pakistani territory. Even the US President, Obama has asked Pakistan to wind up the terrorist infrastructure so that peace can be restored in the entire region including Afghanistan.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Real Nehru
Real Nehru
Soon after 15th August 1947, I was in my office at the Prime Minister’s residence working on a press round-up for the Prime Minister, Nehru. It was about 11-30 in the morning
.My phone rang. I said ‘ hello’
Somebody on the other end said “This is Nehru…
I cut in and said sharply “Nehru! who?” Many jokers used to ring up pretending to be a Nehru.
There was a slight pause on the other end and then some one said ‘Jwaharlal Nehru, Prime Minster; will you call Hari”
Oh God he is the real Nehru !
I went running to call Hari, his personal valet.
Soon Hari sent a tin of marcopolo cigarettes [Panditji’s brand] to his office.
Soon after 15th August 1947, I was in my office at the Prime Minister’s residence working on a press round-up for the Prime Minister, Nehru. It was about 11-30 in the morning
.My phone rang. I said ‘ hello’
Somebody on the other end said “This is Nehru…
I cut in and said sharply “Nehru! who?” Many jokers used to ring up pretending to be a Nehru.
There was a slight pause on the other end and then some one said ‘Jwaharlal Nehru, Prime Minster; will you call Hari”
Oh God he is the real Nehru !
I went running to call Hari, his personal valet.
Soon Hari sent a tin of marcopolo cigarettes [Panditji’s brand] to his office.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Mera Desh Mahan
We have a chip on our shoulder. We think our philosophy{meta physics} is great and our forefathers gave a lot of wisdom to the world. After all the concept of zero is our contribution.Also we were among the first people who talked about the changing universe, the stars and satellites.
Yes, this and a lot more is true but what is the situation today. We have forgotten what the Father of the Nation, Mahatma Gandhi taught us. Nehru's efforts to set up healthy conventions have been rejected. We have a democracy in place which is functional but corruption,nepotism,casteism,and communalism have tarnished our life. We have now an array of 'hate crazy' men like Varun Gandhi, Pogolia, and Narindar Modi.
It is time something is done to stem this rot. People with some ideology and vision are sidelined as the election campaigns are run by musclemen and almost every rule in the book is violated.Political parties give tickets to those who can raise funds,control mobs and influence vote banks. Nobody is concerned about the future of the country or the people. Politics has become the game of power and Kusi[chair] by means fair or foul.
Yes, this and a lot more is true but what is the situation today. We have forgotten what the Father of the Nation, Mahatma Gandhi taught us. Nehru's efforts to set up healthy conventions have been rejected. We have a democracy in place which is functional but corruption,nepotism,casteism,and communalism have tarnished our life. We have now an array of 'hate crazy' men like Varun Gandhi, Pogolia, and Narindar Modi.
It is time something is done to stem this rot. People with some ideology and vision are sidelined as the election campaigns are run by musclemen and almost every rule in the book is violated.Political parties give tickets to those who can raise funds,control mobs and influence vote banks. Nobody is concerned about the future of the country or the people. Politics has become the game of power and Kusi[chair] by means fair or foul.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Childhood Memories
My childhood memories are a bit hazy as I made a conscious effort to forget my past. My mother died when I was just ten years old. My father, who was not very old, married a village belle within six months. I was very bitter to some one taking the place of the ‘malkan’[my mother] of the household.
The new malkan turned the house up side down and changed every thing. She would not cook like my mother. A very good cook, Pandit Shivram was hired and he produced savory dishes which all of us liked very much. Those days I had to leave home at 8am for the school. He used to give me a couple of parathas with dal before I left for school. One day he served me plain roti and dal. I asked him for the usual paratha but he said” sorry baba the malkan has told me to serve you only roti and no paratha. She says ghee is expensive.” This was a great shock for a ten year old who had been pampered and cajoled to eat tasty food in the past. I didn’t know how to react. I went into my room and cried in silence for along time.
One day in my school I saw a group of boys ragging a youngster who was crying. I could not bear his misery and drove the boys away. We became very close friends for life.
Earlier In Chakwal, a small town in the Gujerat district of west Punjab, now in Pakistan I learned to fight for survival. I was the nursery class. One day I had a tiff with a class fellow. He threatened to bring his elder brother who was in class five to beat me. It was lunch break and we were standing in the compound. My other class mates advised me “ run away, his brother is very vicious and he will beat hell out of you”
I hesitated wondering what to do when I heard some one saying “ SHOW HIM I WILL CUT HIM WITH MY KNIFE “ I LOOKED UP AND SAW A BIG BOY ADVANCING MENACINGLY HOLDING A KNIFE.
I had a wooden plank in my hand. I held it with both the hands and struck him on his shoulder with all the strength that I had. He cried “ oh mar suthuia” and fell down. All the boys standing there cheered me and I became a hero. I had broken his collar bone.
This incident taught me to fight for my survival, a lesson which came handy to me all my life. I had to go to a new school every three years as my father was posted in distant places like Chakwal in Panjab, Mardan in North West Frontier Province, Campbellpore in Panjab, Jammu in Jammu and Kashmir and Dharamsala in Himachl. Whenever I joined the school, the boys would try to rag me and I would catch hold of the most vociferous of them and beat him with all the might I had. Next we would be friends and others would leave me alone. Interestingly I had to take recourse to the same technique early in my career in the newsroom of all India Radio where one of the senior editors tried to bully me.
The new malkan turned the house up side down and changed every thing. She would not cook like my mother. A very good cook, Pandit Shivram was hired and he produced savory dishes which all of us liked very much. Those days I had to leave home at 8am for the school. He used to give me a couple of parathas with dal before I left for school. One day he served me plain roti and dal. I asked him for the usual paratha but he said” sorry baba the malkan has told me to serve you only roti and no paratha. She says ghee is expensive.” This was a great shock for a ten year old who had been pampered and cajoled to eat tasty food in the past. I didn’t know how to react. I went into my room and cried in silence for along time.
One day in my school I saw a group of boys ragging a youngster who was crying. I could not bear his misery and drove the boys away. We became very close friends for life.
Earlier In Chakwal, a small town in the Gujerat district of west Punjab, now in Pakistan I learned to fight for survival. I was the nursery class. One day I had a tiff with a class fellow. He threatened to bring his elder brother who was in class five to beat me. It was lunch break and we were standing in the compound. My other class mates advised me “ run away, his brother is very vicious and he will beat hell out of you”
I hesitated wondering what to do when I heard some one saying “ SHOW HIM I WILL CUT HIM WITH MY KNIFE “ I LOOKED UP AND SAW A BIG BOY ADVANCING MENACINGLY HOLDING A KNIFE.
I had a wooden plank in my hand. I held it with both the hands and struck him on his shoulder with all the strength that I had. He cried “ oh mar suthuia” and fell down. All the boys standing there cheered me and I became a hero. I had broken his collar bone.
This incident taught me to fight for my survival, a lesson which came handy to me all my life. I had to go to a new school every three years as my father was posted in distant places like Chakwal in Panjab, Mardan in North West Frontier Province, Campbellpore in Panjab, Jammu in Jammu and Kashmir and Dharamsala in Himachl. Whenever I joined the school, the boys would try to rag me and I would catch hold of the most vociferous of them and beat him with all the might I had. Next we would be friends and others would leave me alone. Interestingly I had to take recourse to the same technique early in my career in the newsroom of all India Radio where one of the senior editors tried to bully me.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
80+ Baby
How Old are you?
80+baby
How come?
Well babies need looking after.?
So?
At 80 and beyond you need looking after. Most of your limbs are not as strong as they used to be.
Well.
We are looked after by our children, who take very good care of us. Sometimes I think we might be a drag on them but they don’t think that way. They wish to keep us with them so that they keep watch on us. Lucky they take so much care of us. This puts us under certain constraints. How can we respond to their love?
So?
We have to adjust to their style of living as we are in their house. It is a nice home with most of the creature comforts available. More important: a lot of love and affection is showered on us. But our friends and relations are too far away and we miss them. We cannot entertain them as they are not here but several thousand miles away
So?
On the whole it is not hard. We are happy being looked after, safe from trouble and illness. The attitude is ‘ have fun while it lasts ‘ My children take on our small problems, finding the right care, the doctors for us, even finding compatible people to mix with. God be praised.
80+baby
How come?
Well babies need looking after.?
So?
At 80 and beyond you need looking after. Most of your limbs are not as strong as they used to be.
Well.
We are looked after by our children, who take very good care of us. Sometimes I think we might be a drag on them but they don’t think that way. They wish to keep us with them so that they keep watch on us. Lucky they take so much care of us. This puts us under certain constraints. How can we respond to their love?
So?
We have to adjust to their style of living as we are in their house. It is a nice home with most of the creature comforts available. More important: a lot of love and affection is showered on us. But our friends and relations are too far away and we miss them. We cannot entertain them as they are not here but several thousand miles away
So?
On the whole it is not hard. We are happy being looked after, safe from trouble and illness. The attitude is ‘ have fun while it lasts ‘ My children take on our small problems, finding the right care, the doctors for us, even finding compatible people to mix with. God be praised.
17 York Road
17 York Road was an interesting place. Pt. Jawaharlal Nehru, the first Prime Minister lived there. He occupied the house much before independence on becoming the vice-chairman of the Viceroy’s executive council. This was the first step towards India’s freedom and gaining the dominion status on August 15th 1947.
I joined as an Assistant to the VC, as Nehru was called in the bureaucratic files, on May 12 1947.I was selected for the assignment by Mrs. Vijay Laxmi Pandit, Nehru’s sister as he was busy on the day when I came in for a “meeting”.
It was a double storey house with a big entrance hall, a passage that led to a big dinning room, a kitchen and a pantry. On the first floor there were three bed rooms, one of which had a small office room attached to it. This was used by Nehru who worked late at night. Nehru gave dictation to Mathai at night which was transcribed by Mathai in the small office room. Rest of us worked in the hall on the ground floor. I prepared the news file that comprised all that the English press said about Nehru and other topics of interest to him: mainly contemporary politics. I could not finish my work till late in the evening. Because of this receiving important guests for the evening fell to my lot.
During my stint with Nehru some interesting people came to visit him, Dr. Homi Bhaba, Sir Chandulal Trivedy ,who was a governor, the prime minister of Nepal and Sheikh Abdullah on being released from jail. Hyderabad and Kashmir were hot topics even when negotiations were being held with Mountbatten about India’s future. In Srinagar, the Maharaja Hari Singh, did not meet any Indian leader and decide the states future till the end and in Hyderabad the Nizam had indicated his intention of remaining out of the Indian union He sent a British lawyer, Sir Monckton, QC to argue his case. Both these Princes were loath to join the Indian Union as they felt that they could survive as independent rulers after the British left. I had a chance to ask Ram Chand Kak, the last Prime Minister of the Maharaja, why did they not join the Union of India before Pakistan invaded Kashmir. His answer surprised me. He said who could believe before August 15th, 1947 hat the British would relinquish power in reality. The elite thought that the British would retain their influence in some form or the other in the new dispensation. Most of the Princes thought that they could be the third force in independent India. In the Princes Chamber the Nawab of Bhopal was working to that end with the active connivance of Mohammad Ali Jinnah who was very keen to build a “corridor” to link two separated parts of Pakistan, a distance of about 1600 Kilometres.
The government of Nehru faced some of the toughest problems of Independent India within months of its taking over the reigns of power. Within forty five days of independence it had to face an invasion from Pakistani hordes backed by the Pakistani army, get 600 and odd princes to join the mainstream union of India, try to rehabilitate four million refugees who were destitute, procure food to meet a shortage of about ten million tons. There was no foreign aid available then.
I joined as an Assistant to the VC, as Nehru was called in the bureaucratic files, on May 12 1947.I was selected for the assignment by Mrs. Vijay Laxmi Pandit, Nehru’s sister as he was busy on the day when I came in for a “meeting”.
It was a double storey house with a big entrance hall, a passage that led to a big dinning room, a kitchen and a pantry. On the first floor there were three bed rooms, one of which had a small office room attached to it. This was used by Nehru who worked late at night. Nehru gave dictation to Mathai at night which was transcribed by Mathai in the small office room. Rest of us worked in the hall on the ground floor. I prepared the news file that comprised all that the English press said about Nehru and other topics of interest to him: mainly contemporary politics. I could not finish my work till late in the evening. Because of this receiving important guests for the evening fell to my lot.
During my stint with Nehru some interesting people came to visit him, Dr. Homi Bhaba, Sir Chandulal Trivedy ,who was a governor, the prime minister of Nepal and Sheikh Abdullah on being released from jail. Hyderabad and Kashmir were hot topics even when negotiations were being held with Mountbatten about India’s future. In Srinagar, the Maharaja Hari Singh, did not meet any Indian leader and decide the states future till the end and in Hyderabad the Nizam had indicated his intention of remaining out of the Indian union He sent a British lawyer, Sir Monckton, QC to argue his case. Both these Princes were loath to join the Indian Union as they felt that they could survive as independent rulers after the British left. I had a chance to ask Ram Chand Kak, the last Prime Minister of the Maharaja, why did they not join the Union of India before Pakistan invaded Kashmir. His answer surprised me. He said who could believe before August 15th, 1947 hat the British would relinquish power in reality. The elite thought that the British would retain their influence in some form or the other in the new dispensation. Most of the Princes thought that they could be the third force in independent India. In the Princes Chamber the Nawab of Bhopal was working to that end with the active connivance of Mohammad Ali Jinnah who was very keen to build a “corridor” to link two separated parts of Pakistan, a distance of about 1600 Kilometres.
The government of Nehru faced some of the toughest problems of Independent India within months of its taking over the reigns of power. Within forty five days of independence it had to face an invasion from Pakistani hordes backed by the Pakistani army, get 600 and odd princes to join the mainstream union of India, try to rehabilitate four million refugees who were destitute, procure food to meet a shortage of about ten million tons. There was no foreign aid available then.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Bhanot not here
The year was 1950 and we were junior editors in the news room of All India Radio. Our boss, Mr. Bhanot, a veteran journalist, was a bit of a bully who was fond of shouting at the juniors. He would go through our copy and point out mistakes in not very civil language. We were all afraid of him and avoided him as best as we could and he enjoyed being a bit of scare. Bhatacharya, a Bengali editor, who was not very bright, used to come in for special attention from Mr. Bhanot.
One day there was a ring in the newsroom. Bhanot wanted to speak to Bhatachrya. A colleague handed the phone to Bhatacharya saying “your phone.”
Bhatachrya took the phone and said “Hello.”
The caller said “Bhanot here, why ….”
Bhatachrya said “ Bhanot not here” and hung up.
After a couple minutes the phone again rang again. This time Bhatacharya picked up and said ”hello.”
Bhanot who was fuming shouted, “I told you Bhanot here.”
Without a ripple Bhatacharya said, “But I told you Bhanot not here” and hung up.
One day there was a ring in the newsroom. Bhanot wanted to speak to Bhatachrya. A colleague handed the phone to Bhatacharya saying “your phone.”
Bhatachrya took the phone and said “Hello.”
The caller said “Bhanot here, why ….”
Bhatachrya said “ Bhanot not here” and hung up.
After a couple minutes the phone again rang again. This time Bhatacharya picked up and said ”hello.”
Bhanot who was fuming shouted, “I told you Bhanot here.”
Without a ripple Bhatacharya said, “But I told you Bhanot not here” and hung up.
My father, my guru
My father, who was a scholar of English and Vedanta, taught me English grammar and a bit of metaphysics. Even when I was quite young [perhaps 12 years] he taught me the use of auxiliary verb and the three forms of verb; present, past and past participle and how and when to use these forms of verb. After that I never looked back and did well in English tests, at times standing first in my class. My father told me never to cram anything, a principle which I observed meticulously.
In time I joined a small English daily of Lahore [Punjab, now in Pakistan]. Within tree months I started writing for the edit page. When our editor went on long leave, he called me in and asked me to write main editorials during his absence from the paper. As I was the youngest member of the staff it created a lot of heart burn among the senior members.
After partition, I joined the All India Radio as an assistant editor and retire as the head of the News Services of the organization, which was broadcasting in more than twenty languages from forty two centres and had a world-wide coverage.
After leaving the Indian Information Service I went on to teach media skills to youngsters in the Indian Institute of Mass Communication, a period of my life that I enjoyed very much.
Two years ago my daughter put me to reading the Gita and I was surprised to feel that I was ready to receive the message in it. Today I am at peace and ready to face whatever comes my way.
In time I joined a small English daily of Lahore [Punjab, now in Pakistan]. Within tree months I started writing for the edit page. When our editor went on long leave, he called me in and asked me to write main editorials during his absence from the paper. As I was the youngest member of the staff it created a lot of heart burn among the senior members.
After partition, I joined the All India Radio as an assistant editor and retire as the head of the News Services of the organization, which was broadcasting in more than twenty languages from forty two centres and had a world-wide coverage.
After leaving the Indian Information Service I went on to teach media skills to youngsters in the Indian Institute of Mass Communication, a period of my life that I enjoyed very much.
Two years ago my daughter put me to reading the Gita and I was surprised to feel that I was ready to receive the message in it. Today I am at peace and ready to face whatever comes my way.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Eligibile Match
Sunder’s luck turned suddenly in 1946 when he found a stable job with an English daily in Lahore. Surprisingly he rose very quickly in the new establishment. Though he was only a few months old in the paper he was asked to write the daily editorials during the absence of the regular editor who went on a month long leave.
On the return of the editor Sunder was made the Special Representative of the paper. That gave him a lot of prestige in the profession and a chance to see the communal carnage in the undivided Punjab. What he saw convinced him that India could not remain united after the British leave. He planned to move to Delhi and in May 1947 he got a good position on Jawaharlal Nehru’s staff. A few months later he was selected as Assistant editor of the News Services Division of All India Radio, a senior position in the profession.
Rukmani, wife of , a senior journalist who was very friendly with Sunder thought he would make a very fine husband for her sister who had just taken a masters degree in Kerala. Soon Radha, a smart and vivacious girl of 20. arrived in the capital and requested Sunder to show her around Within days they became good friends and started spending a lot of time together. They would meet every day and spend the whole morning in each others company. Sunder was on evening shift in the Newsroom. Every day they went for coffee or something and remained together till about 2 in the afternoon when Sunder had to leave for the evening shift. The relationship was very welcome to both as they were very new to New Delhi and had no friends of their own.
In the circumstances it was natural for the people around to think that the two of them were going steady. Rukmani as well as Sunder’s sister[he had no other family members] thought the relationship would culminate in their marriage. Sunder never thought like that. Radha was a very good friend and a very pleasant person but nothing more. He was very fond of her as a friend but there was no emotional attachment of any type. It would have made no difference to him if Radh was not a girl, he would still be fond of her as a good and close fiend. While this was going on Sunder’s maternal uncle in Kashmir decided to marry him off to the daughter of a rich businessman who had offered a sizable dowry.
A senior journalist with a gazetted position in the government was a rare catch in the marriage market in forties. Fathers looking for good matches were willing to pay for such finds and Sunder’s uncle was very keen ‘to cash the rich cheque’. But Sunder was not ready to get married as yet, something that his uncle could not understand. He would say what is Sunder waiting for, he has the best possible job in his profession, a good health and a very good marriage offer? How many people are lucky to have all this at a young age? But Sunder stuck to his resolve not to marry just yet and the uncle had to give up in the end.
One day a cousin of Radha told Sunder about a good movie that was on and invited him to go see it with him. Sunder agreed and the two of hem saw the picture together. Rukmani was very upset as to how could Sunder go to a movie without Radha and said so to Sunder. He tried to tell her no harm was meant and it just happened. But Rukmanii felt it was a signal that Sunder did not care for Radha who she thought had failed to attract him towards her. Her trip to Delhi had failed in her view.
One week later Radha was on the train to South on her way back home in Kerala. Sunder came to know of her departure after she had left. He felt very sad and wondered why she left all of a sudden and without telling him.
In a years time Sunder married a girl whom he liked. Soon he had a family of his own. Four decades later a common friend from the South told him that Radha had gone to America and taken a job in a Library. To his query ‘how is she?’ He was told, ‘sad as ever. She has not forgotten her love, some one from the North’. She did not marry and was living all alone still.
On the return of the editor Sunder was made the Special Representative of the paper. That gave him a lot of prestige in the profession and a chance to see the communal carnage in the undivided Punjab. What he saw convinced him that India could not remain united after the British leave. He planned to move to Delhi and in May 1947 he got a good position on Jawaharlal Nehru’s staff. A few months later he was selected as Assistant editor of the News Services Division of All India Radio, a senior position in the profession.
Rukmani, wife of , a senior journalist who was very friendly with Sunder thought he would make a very fine husband for her sister who had just taken a masters degree in Kerala. Soon Radha, a smart and vivacious girl of 20. arrived in the capital and requested Sunder to show her around Within days they became good friends and started spending a lot of time together. They would meet every day and spend the whole morning in each others company. Sunder was on evening shift in the Newsroom. Every day they went for coffee or something and remained together till about 2 in the afternoon when Sunder had to leave for the evening shift. The relationship was very welcome to both as they were very new to New Delhi and had no friends of their own.
In the circumstances it was natural for the people around to think that the two of them were going steady. Rukmani as well as Sunder’s sister[he had no other family members] thought the relationship would culminate in their marriage. Sunder never thought like that. Radha was a very good friend and a very pleasant person but nothing more. He was very fond of her as a friend but there was no emotional attachment of any type. It would have made no difference to him if Radh was not a girl, he would still be fond of her as a good and close fiend. While this was going on Sunder’s maternal uncle in Kashmir decided to marry him off to the daughter of a rich businessman who had offered a sizable dowry.
A senior journalist with a gazetted position in the government was a rare catch in the marriage market in forties. Fathers looking for good matches were willing to pay for such finds and Sunder’s uncle was very keen ‘to cash the rich cheque’. But Sunder was not ready to get married as yet, something that his uncle could not understand. He would say what is Sunder waiting for, he has the best possible job in his profession, a good health and a very good marriage offer? How many people are lucky to have all this at a young age? But Sunder stuck to his resolve not to marry just yet and the uncle had to give up in the end.
One day a cousin of Radha told Sunder about a good movie that was on and invited him to go see it with him. Sunder agreed and the two of hem saw the picture together. Rukmani was very upset as to how could Sunder go to a movie without Radha and said so to Sunder. He tried to tell her no harm was meant and it just happened. But Rukmanii felt it was a signal that Sunder did not care for Radha who she thought had failed to attract him towards her. Her trip to Delhi had failed in her view.
One week later Radha was on the train to South on her way back home in Kerala. Sunder came to know of her departure after she had left. He felt very sad and wondered why she left all of a sudden and without telling him.
In a years time Sunder married a girl whom he liked. Soon he had a family of his own. Four decades later a common friend from the South told him that Radha had gone to America and taken a job in a Library. To his query ‘how is she?’ He was told, ‘sad as ever. She has not forgotten her love, some one from the North’. She did not marry and was living all alone still.
A Candy
Little Priya was fond of chocolate candy. The old man who loved the baby always gave her one whenever she asked for a candy. The relationship between the two was very close. They used to go for walks in the park, play games and spend a lot of time together. They were very happy in each other’s company. One day one of the neighbors told Priya’s mother that sugar candy was bad for the kids. It spoils the teeth and gives birth to worms in the intestines of the children. That day the simple mother who hailed from the hills decided to stop Priya from eating a candy.
As usual Priya asked for a candy after school but her mother told the old man, ‘don’t give her one. It is bad for her health’. The old man tried to convince her that there was no harm if Priya ate a single candy in a day but she would not accept his word for this. In the meantime Priya felt bad and cried and cried. This gave a very uneasy feeling to the old man who told the mother that he was giving a candy to the child just for ‘today’ as she might fall ill by crying too much. In the end the mother agreed.
By then Priya had cried so much that she had fallen asleep on the bare floor. When the candy was given to her she just held it in her sleepy hand and looked at it for a long time, then flung it away and went back to sleep. The old man who saw it all felt very bad, two big tears rolled down his eyes.
As usual Priya asked for a candy after school but her mother told the old man, ‘don’t give her one. It is bad for her health’. The old man tried to convince her that there was no harm if Priya ate a single candy in a day but she would not accept his word for this. In the meantime Priya felt bad and cried and cried. This gave a very uneasy feeling to the old man who told the mother that he was giving a candy to the child just for ‘today’ as she might fall ill by crying too much. In the end the mother agreed.
By then Priya had cried so much that she had fallen asleep on the bare floor. When the candy was given to her she just held it in her sleepy hand and looked at it for a long time, then flung it away and went back to sleep. The old man who saw it all felt very bad, two big tears rolled down his eyes.
The Last Zamindar
He grew up in the last days of feudal Kashmir when it was still ruled by the Maharaja who was interested to collect revenue and maintain peace. The land was given by the Durbar and the Zamindar’s word was the law in the seven villages, that the family owned. The peasants did not own anything, not even the mud houses they lived in. Everything belonged to the Zamindar and he could throw out a peasant whenever he felt like it. The peasants had to bring the entire produce to him and out of this he would give them one fourth keeping three fourths with himself. It was a very cruel system, in which the kisan [peasant] had no say. The zamindars kept a sharp eye on the people around themselves and maintained peace with the help of goons employed by them
In recent times there were signs of unrest as the people held meetings and rallies demanding an elected government.
“A responsible government” “what non-sense? How is that possible ; who are they to demand that, Don’t they know that Kashmir was bought for cash.
The Zamindar felt that it was time to show some firmness to “these wretches, who were being misled by the so-called politicians, real thugs”
He was very disappointed when the government negotiated with the Kisan leaders and agreed to hold free and fair elections. Within days the old system broke down and a new system came into existence giving all the power to the “elected members of the assembly”, representatives 0f the kisans.
In recent times there were signs of unrest as the people held meetings and rallies demanding an elected government.
“A responsible government” “what non-sense? How is that possible ; who are they to demand that, Don’t they know that Kashmir was bought for cash.
The Zamindar felt that it was time to show some firmness to “these wretches, who were being misled by the so-called politicians, real thugs”
He was very disappointed when the government negotiated with the Kisan leaders and agreed to hold free and fair elections. Within days the old system broke down and a new system came into existence giving all the power to the “elected members of the assembly”, representatives 0f the kisans.
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