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.
Monday, September 28, 2009
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.
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