Sikkim Travelogue: Flowers, mountains and snow - a trip to remember

Planning a trip and checking boxes while travelling has never been my forte. What I do like is stuffing a few T-shirts in a backpack and taking off whenever I can get some days off. Alas! Growing up has its disadvantages – you cannot just up and leave as you want. And if you are planning to go to Sikkim – that is not an option anyway.

Travelling with my recently travel bug-bitten husband, Sikkim required an advance planning by a few weeks. Not only because it is far from Delhi, which is my home, but you also have to take special permissions to go to the places near the border areas.

After speaking to a couple of friends who had been there before, we decided

Leonard Nimoy obituary: Adieu Captain Spock!

Pointy ears, upturned eyebrows, a smile that reached his eyes – Leonard Nimoy's spock is perhaps the most known and loved screen character of all times.

His death means an end of an era for so many in the world.

'Star Trek' is the benchmark of all science fiction work on-screen since its first season on TV and subsequent movies. People have grown up on it. We have cheered for Spock in his many adventures.

Nirbhaya Rape Case: When a documentary becomes national shame

“A woman is to blame for rape!”

“They provoke men with their short clothes!”

“They wouldn't dress up if they didn't want to be raped!”

“Don't resist rape– it would be simpler for you!”

Is the mentality ever going to change? Every few months we hear these statements from the perpetrators of rape in the country, and then the politicians follow. Even god-men have their opinions about how the woman should have called the rapist her 'brother' to avoid rape.

Talai, Himachal Pradesh: Travelling into the cloud factory

When the cottony clouds overcast the skies, remember wanting to reach out to them, plucking them out and eating them like cotton candy? Remember lying on the grass and looking up with your friends trying to plant stories, finding bunnies and dragons in the shapes of floating clouds? What if you could touch them in real?

Driving into a village called Talai, near Fagu was like climbing the stairway to heaven, and reaching paradise, sitting on the clouds.

A few miles from Kufri (the famed ski destination in Himachal Pradesh), this little hamlet is straight out of a Ruskin Bond book. A total of five houses strewn around the mountain top, in the middle of an apple orchard, a family with little children who walk down to school every day and a big mountain

The fatmospheric existence

Have you ever been approached by a random person in the Metro and told how you are unhappy? Has some child just randomly been rude to you and called you names because you were walking by? Have you by now turned a bully after years of being tormented as the fat one because you figured out that life is a 'jungle raj' – you either bully people yourself or they mock you till you want to curl up and die?

I have.

In the three decades of my existence now, I have come to terms with it. I have also started getting used to the people around who sometimes stare incessantly till you actually raise your eyebrows and ask them whether there is something wrong with them.

It has taken some time – most of it fighting the loopy loop of exercise, diet, failure, misery, self pity and back to exercise.

I like to eat – and I have given in to making it as healthy as I can.

The truth is being fat in this world is worse than being a member of the biggest terrorist organisation.

This is not a rant – it is simply a fact that from the time I gained weight during my puberty I was told how I would never get a good guy. Then I ended up in a bad relationship because of low self esteem where the guy knew how to take advantage of it. In hindsight I wish I had more supportive people around me who did not let my body image decide how I dealt with relationships. Things became so bad that I clamped down and went on a spiral of depression in my college days.

Time and time again many experts reiterate - being fat is different from being unhealthy. Fat and obesity contribute to a lot of diseases, no doubt. But a healthy lifestyle is so much more important than berating a child (or anyone else) for being overweight. Instead, try introducing your children and yourself to a nutritious diet and daily mild physical exercises to keep diseases at bay. It is so important that you let your child know that looks should not be the scale by which your peers treat you – and no amount of bullying should be taken lying down.

My coping mechanism was getting apologetic or joking about it myself before others could. There are many who can't and suffer even more.

It is sad that more and more people now adhere to the western image of beauty, health and beauty magazines all promote the thinnest of people. India, where a woman with girth was always in demand has now become a term of 'abuse'.

Sonakshi Sinha, Parineeti Chopra and Vidya Balan are criticised by the fashion police for looking fat at events. Some of them fight back, some choose silence and then feature in photoshopped covers of popular magazines where they look all skin and bones. The heroines of movies have started looking like clones of each other and more and more people are following that trend.

A movie like 'Dum Laga Ke Haisha' featuring the very real and overweight Bhumi Pednekar may just be the refreshing change in that image. But I am not very hopeful. After all Vidya, Sonakshi, Parineeti have been the leads in some really good flicks and I don't see anyone backing down with their insults when their 'fat' shows through their designer clothes in award shows.

Their careers, their work, their talent get overshadowed by the weight. Something that is splashed across page 3 every few days. These talented ladies face the wrath of the very people they are trying to impress.

Bollywood continues to mock overweight characters in their movies, and very few manage to stay away from that stereotype. The fat one in the movie is always alone, stupid and mostly just shown lying around in a sofa unable to do anything other than getting joked about. And in a country that worships their movies – that is indeed a sad image to portray.

People, who otherwise won't move a muscle to save a dying man on the road come looking all concerned trying to sell me the latest weight loss technique their fat cousin used and how has had a makeover a la Hrithik Roshan in 'Kabhie Khushi Kabhie Gam'. Some just openly laugh.

Most are so insensitive that they would stare and point as if I was a caged animal in the zoo. I mostly take it with a pinch of salt and laugh it off. But, I can imagine how it must be for those who can't laugh when they are at the receiving end of constant prodding and interference from people who say they care about them. Things would not change – most of us live with our prejudices and pass it on to our children.

There is no reason why my weight should define who I am. I have a career, I am intelligent (so one hopes), and pleasant – yet the first thing most notice is my weight.

Not caring about what people say is the best way to take them off guard. As long as you are comfortable with who you are – life becomes like sprinkles on a chocolate ice-cream. Which reminds me I am hungry!

Robin Williams: The death of a clown

“Death is paying a debt to nature. The big sleep. God’s way of saying, `Slow down.`”

Journalists are a cynical lot. They are full of self importance and quote, “Bad news is good news, and good news is no news at all”, whenever they are faced with the question of morale. When wars begin, famines happen, corruption surfaces, fights ensue – they thrive. A world in order begets nothing. Not that the media doesn`t like the feel-good stories of love and goodwill, but these don`t earn the bread. People like to hear about what is wrong with the world.

The problem is comics are more cynical than journalists can ever hope to be. They see the chaos as it is. They see through the façades and bigotry of the world leaders; of what this good earth has become. They manipulate words to throw light on the manipulations of this world. They say things as they are, without the rose-coloured glasses, without justifications – laced with laughter. Comics make you laugh at your own shortcomings.

Comics see the worse side of mankind and push it to the forefront. Studies say that one of the most depressed people are comedy artists. As a leading psychologist said, humour is a response to the sadness they feel. The death of Robin Williams (his apparent suicide) has brought that dark side to the forefront. Chris Farley, John Belushi, Mitch Hedberg Richard Jeni are few of the many stand-up artists who died battling mental illnesses, leading to death by suicide or overdose.

But is it just the comics?

Remember Guru Dutt? The man who made classics like `Kagaz Ke Phool`, `Pyaasa` and `Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam`. He made cinema that has stood the test of time. The way he portrayed Vijay in `Pyaasa`, the way the character shaped up, the love he put into the movie – the irony of Vijay`s fame is something no one can replicate. The genius who battled alcoholism, died alone – of an apparent suicide while mixing sleeping pills and alcohol. The failure of `Kaagaz Ke Phool` at the box office devastated him. This would be his third suicide attempt. He was acknowledged by the world – but he was alone. `Kaagaz Ke Phool`, ironically has been listed as one of top 100 greatest movies of all times.

The same lies true for music director RD Burman. He did not commit suicide, but any Pancham buff knows that the man died of loneliness. He is considered the most versatile of all music composers in India – even today. But, in the late eighties the man had lost everyone around him. His musical genius failed while Bappi Lahiri and other disco artists thrived. His patrons were ignoring him and going on to younger composers. He shone one last time for `1942 A Love Story` and died 3 months before the movie released, 20 years ago.

Kurt Cobain, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Nick Drake, Heath Ledger, Marilyn Monroe, Amy Winehouse – the list is endless.

Robin Williams was not particularly young when he died. But he was definitely a man who was not done with his art. His audience and fans have not had their fill. He was a man who made thousands like me laugh in `Mrs Doubtfire` and cry in `Dead Poets Society`.

He made me “Seize the Day. Carpe Diem!” Made sure I knew that there was more to art, poetry and literature than to just read `about` them. I needed to experience it. Love, poetry and romance keep humans alive. He told us all about families and how they were all different, but love is the “tie that binds us all”. He enthralled, inspired and entertained. Robin Williams was Peter Pan, Genie and Lovelace... He made characters live for those who watched him on screen.

For those who watched him perform live, I have heard that he could rattle non-stop – flitting from one character to the next in seconds, while the audiences caught their breath from laughing too hard.

I have heard he went on the stage just because he wanted to. Even if amateur artists were performing – he would simply climb on and perform, get the audience to have more fun than they bargained for.

He left a motto – spoken by his character, but no one can deny the truth in his eyes when he said them: “Seize the day because, believe it or not, each and every one of us in this room is one day going to stop breathing, turn cold and die.”

If people like him—artists, passionate performers can be lonely, there is much more that humanity needs to introspect. This tandem of war and misery, the death of innocent, sufferings of the poor – they all get noticed by the greats of this world. People like Williams, they observe – they internalise – they suffer with the sorrow of the world. They succumb. Robin Williams gave in to this isolation.

If there is anything to learn from his life and his death, then it is to `live`, hard and proper, in our own way. Make the world laugh with you – suck the marrow out of life.

This article was first published on Zeenews.India.com

Loose Translation of a few couplets from the great poet: Amir Khusro

Don't overlook my misery
Blandishing your eyes
And weaving tales.
My patience has over brimmed
My beloved!
Please take me to your bossom.

Tossed and bewildered
Like a flickering candle
I roam around
Burning in fire of love.

Sleepless eyes and restless body;
Neither she comes,
Nor she sends a message;
Using a thousand tricks
The enchanting eyes robbed me
Of my peace and tranquility.
Is there anyone,
Who would care to go and
Report this pitiable state of mine
To my beloved?

The night of Separation
is like long, labyrinthine curls of your tresses,
The moments of our union
Is short like the life itself.
How do I survive this dark period of separation
Without your face before my eyes?

- Amar Mudi

My father does a lot of poetry and has also published a collection of short poems in Bangla, 

He has also translated several English and Hindi books to Bangla and vice-versa. 

He is a theater enthusiast and a playwright. You can reach him at amarmudi@yahoo.com 

and leave your comments and replies for him.

I will keep linking his books and poetry as his books are not always available everywhere in the world...

Remembering RD Burman: 20 years since the day the music died!

The 4th of January 1994 was a dark day for music – especially the Bollywood music industry. An era came to an end when Pancham took his last breath just before the release of `1942: A Love Story`.

The life of RD Burman or Pancham da was music. Pancham enthusiasts all over the world swear by his work and his compositions. Whether it was a soulful collaborations with Gulzar, folk tunes modernised with western rhythm instruments, his experimentation with western music or pure Hindustani classical compositions – Pancham da has done it all.

Growing up in a Bengali family meant that you were listening to RD Burman in Bengali as well as in Hindi. However, the love for Pancham turned into passion only when I turned 20. You fall in love at that age for the

Obituary: Khushwant Singh: The man who could laugh at himself

“For death is no more than a turning of us over from time to eternity.” - William Penn

Writing about a man, who is a literary icon, someone whose work you have read from childhood can be daunting. From satire to commentary on politics, Khushwant Singh has written about everything.

Khushwant Singh was born in Hadali (Pakistan), Punjab to Sir Sobha Singh who was a prominent builder in Lutyens` Delhi. He was educated in Delhi and Lahore. He was married to Kawal Malik and had two children named Rahul Singh and Mala.


Singh was the founder-editor of Yojana and editor of The Illustrated Weekly of India, National Herald and

Obituary - Suchitra Sen: The era ends!

Satyajit Ray, in his obituary for Uttam Kumar, had once written, “Every other Bengali film had him (Uttam Kumar) in the lead, usually paired with Suchitra Sen. This was a romantic team which for durability and width of acceptance had few equals in world cinema.”

Those who lived in that era and every other Bengali cinema lover would agree. With Suchitra`s death that era of Bengali romance comes to an end. Suchitra was India`s Greta Garbo for she refused to make a public appearance and even forewent the Dadasaheb Phalke Award in 2005 for the same reason.

Her debut movie was `Saare Chuattor`, which was a Box Office hit, and started the two-decade-long journey of the Uttam-Suchitra pair. Her first Hindi movie Bimal Roy`s `Devdas` in 1955 remains a classic and got her the Best Actress Award. But she carved her niche in Tollywood.

Top 10 New Year Resolutions people make and break

New Year Resolutions are something that you make every year as soon as the clock strikes 12 on the 31st night... Well, at least you are supposed to. But the problem with resolutions is that most people fail to keep it. It’s a promise to your own self, but most of us slack off within a week of promising the best of resolutions.

Here is a list of top 10 resolutions that people make and then expectedly break...

An era ends with Tendulkar’s last!

The match as it started on 14th November 2013, wasn’t your regular cricket Test. Wankhede has seen full occupancy on many occasions, but the fervour for tickets this time was unprecedented — perhaps even more than the World Cup final in 2011. This time it was not just a match at the stadium. Every Sachin worshipper left his and her work to watch him in action for the last time and bid him farewell.

The presentation ceremony after the India - West Indies Test was a tribute to the hero of words and actions together! One doesn`t have to be a cricket fan to be a Sachin fan! That is the master blaster’s magic! But saying great things about Sachin Tendulkar is merely repeating what everyone else is talking about.

For the people born in 1980s, Sachin is kind of a timeline reminder. People remember the years by Tendulkar’s achievements. Whether it was his debut, where despite not a very memorable performance, he was appreciated for his maturity and bravery against Pakistan’s pace attack or the famous ‘Desert Storm’ or his final knock against West Indies.

Nina Davuluri – Leeching on to the woman who won

Nina Davuluri’s win at Miss America 2014 pageant has created ripples on the social network for all the wrong reasons. And looking at all the hate that is coming from the people around, my annoyance at the blatant discrimination has risen along with the rest of the world.

My first concern stems from the fact that it is coming from people who are themselves settlers in a foreign land, albeit 200 years ago, but settlers nevertheless. They are all – some of them very scarily ignorant – equating Indians/ Asians/ Arabs to terrorism.

The drive - Jodhpur and Jaisalmer

Mehrangarh Fort

Road trip. Have I ever mentioned that I have a travel bug. Not that I can afford it everytime, but I still have it. Ever since I remember I have loved hitting the roads. Especially if there I can drive down there. My father loves taking long drives, and so does my husband(thankfully).

Fortunately or unfortunately I was born in India. Which means that we have practically all kinds of landscapes possible in this one country. And as we recently figured out, we can’t possibly travel abroad for the next 16 years without visiting the n number of places in our list of ‘must visits’ of India. Hampi, kasaul, ladakh, Spiti, kerala, to name just a few. 

One of the most memorable trips (and one we have to take again, simply because it was so awesome) was Rajasthan. Specifically- Jodhpur and Jaisalmer. My husband – Shreyas, a friend – Pradip and I decided to take this road trip in the winter of 2011-2012. So packed into our Tata Indica, with enough razais(quilts) to help a joint family of 15 ward of a himalayan winter we set of from Delhi.

Inside the fort

NH 15 - on the way to Jaisalmer (Near Pokhran)

Gadsisar Lake - beautiful lake with a temple at the center 

It was truly spectacular. Jodhpur is the blue city of Rajasthan. With forts and palaces, the colour imbibed by the people of the state makes up for the dry and arid nature of the landscape. On the other hand Jaisalmer is gold. Wherever you look the blue skies contrast the golden forts, the city is golden, the landscape is golden, and it is mesmerising when you look at the slanting evening rays of the sun hitting the forted city. 

The Mehrangarh fort (featured in the 'Dark Knight Rises') happens to be one of the most well stocked museums in India. It houses several of the royal armoury, fine arts, paintings, palanquins, gifts from emperor Akbar to the royals of Jodhpur, jewellery, traditional royal clothes, and folk musical instruments. The ornate Howrahs are exquisitely carved and as Rudyard Kipling had said – the fort was built by the fairies for the giants. 

The drive from Jodhpur to Jaisalmer is fantastic. The roads are very well maintained. And dotted with desert wildlife. The state roadways has to applauded for maintaining this road over the years as many of my friends who have gone have also reported. I wish the Delhi-Jaipur highway was as good. I digress. The highway NH 114 (which is a little patchy at places) and NH 15 (we sped along this one) have several road side dhabas with good food and awesome tea. 

We reached Jaisalmer in the afternoon and travelled to Sam Dunes (and onwards to Dhanana) the 

The Sam Dunes

next morning. About 45 Kms from Jaisalmer, and totally a desert, It was freezing cold. With temperatures going below zero and an extremely open landscape, the winds were cutting. But the sunrise was beautiful. We kept driving next to the sand dunes to almost 20 kms away from the India-Pakistan border. The village around Sam are untouched and one can almost guess the way the village order lies with the clothing and the housing structures. 

We also visited the Jain Temples, which are supposed to be directly connected to the jaisalmer fort with underground tunnels that would have been escape routes incase the fort was ever under attack. 

Standing on the Trikuta Hill, the fort itself has a walled city within. Around 25% of the populace lives within the fort with varied tourism-centric occupations like food stalls – aimed at the foreign tourists; jewellery, stone work, traditional clothing stores, tourist guides etc. Built by Rao Jaisal in 1156 AD, this fort is one of the largest in the world. Although a lot of them are still lived in by the descendants of the merchants, some of the havelis in this fort are now museums and contain the ornate sandstone carvings, carved wooden doors and other royal artifacts from the bygone era. The famous detective movie by Satyajit Ray – ‘Sonar Kella’, was also based in this fort. The movie has possibly got more tourists to the city than any guidebook – the locals admit. And you can see a lot of Bengali eateries for the number of Bengali tourists who come to Jaisalmer for the ‘Ray pilgrimage’. 

We drove back to Jaipur the next day and after a day of rest we came back to Delhi. This road trip was full of great experiences and the longest I had taken. Can’t wait to get back on the road and possibly add some more fantastic experiences.

This is an official blog entry for the Ambi Pur’s “The Perfect Road Trip” . You can visit their facebook page at http://www.facebook.com/AmbiPurIndia

Nearer Home? The Northern Ridge and thereabouts...

December 17, 2006 dawned a grayish-blue.

The usual Delhi winter chill was accompanied by a rare and not-very-welcome companion, the rain. However, by about noon, the latter had disappeared and though the sun could still not peek through the curtain of clouds, one could feel it was hardly the kind of weather to stay home and continue to be cold. And so, a call was put through to the 'partner in crime and rhyme', Mr. Chandrashekhar Singh, him of the big-build and the marshmallow-heart. He was (as usual) open to the idea of roaming about; all it generally needs to convince him is something that will make him escape the rigours of a Civil Service aspirant's life. And so we decided to meet at the Vishwavidyalaya Metro Station, intending to walk through the personally-unexplored areas in and around the Delhi University North Campus, the phase in Delhi's history most recent to our times apart from Lutyens' New Delhi - the Ridge and adjoining areas.

First up, we met our Bengali-dada, the cigarette/aerated drinks/potato chips vendor outside the metro station, and stocked up our supplies. Then the journey commenced, walking through the parking lot towards the University Guest houses and the ridge beyond...

FLAGSTAFF TOWER

Funnily enough, I never attached any significance to this structure even when I saw it before, on numerous occasions - my earliest visits to the University for CCGI meetings, when I used to drive through the ridge (the road was still open to traffic then) to get to Stephen's.

Only after reading the previously mentioned historical books did I come to know that this was the place where the British infantry first observed the 'Mutineers' of 1857 entering Delhi, and raised the

Beera ke dus maathe...

Titarpur, near Rajouri Garden

While coming to office in the last one month, the highlight of everyday has been the making of the Ravan Putla that is burnt every year to mark 'Dusshera', the festival where the goodness of ram overcomes the evil of Raavan, in the epic tale of Ramayan.

However much I dont like the character of Ram, and believe that his was the worst  of all the vishnu incarnations... or the fact that I think Raavan has more character, integrity and prowess than Ram... however as i have been told recently, there is great power in mass belief...

"Ram Bas Bhakton Nahin, Shatru Ke Bhi Chintan Mein Hain

Dekh Taj Ke Paap Raavan, Ram Tere Man Mein Hain"

Farewell

Even before I settled down on my desk, the phone rang. It is a nineteen forty vintage instrument with Black Pagoda like structure. The smooth and heavy receiver and krring…..krring… sound are the two things I always associate with the word ‘telephone’, and therefore refuse to part with it. My colleagues have got swanky push-button phones and flaunt their colorful instruments at the centre of their table. I keep my instrument on the side table, hidden from the visitors as far as possible.

The tired voice of the operator in the Old-age Home is very familiar to me… a call from my mother. She never calls on my mobile. I am not sure she has my mobile number noted in her diary even. She always gives the refrain,‘I can’t hear when you speak from the mobile’; She never admits that these days she can’t hear properly.

The old man is still mumbling something; Why is Maa not coming on phone? Is she not well? I hadn’t bothered to listen to the old man so far. I never ever did; Usually Maa comes on the phone after one or two sentences. How could I ask him now to repeat what he has already said? My silence irked him. He asked in a very matter of fact tone, “So, will you be able to come? Or, should we go ahead with the funeral? In that case, we don’t want to delay her last rites.”

It took me few seconds to work out the riddles from the words I heard now from the old man and infer that Maa is dead. Now, I have to give an answer to him relying on the inference and, that too within the few seconds of patience left in him. Without much thought I answered, “I am coming”. No response from the other side. After sometime only ‘beep’… ‘beep’… He had disconnected the line.

I heard some commotion and looked up. My colleagues gathered around my table. Once they heard the news they worked out the whole days program for me, including the number of days of leave that I required, the arrangement of money, train-bus-taxi and the list of dos and donts for a son at the time of his mother’s funeral. Knowledgeable people, I must admit. One senior colleague accompanied me to the boss; the other fetched a rickshaw for me to reach railway station on time and they were at the gate to see me off.

The first thing I did, after I was out of their sight, was to light a cigarette. The bitter taste and foul smell drove away the cobweb of emotions from the head. Maa never liked to display her emotions even when social obligations or propriety demanded. When my father died we were very young, me and my sister Sona. She left for Kolkata immediately after the rituals leaving us with our grandparents. Within a few months she got a job in my father’s office on compassionate ground and shifted out from the village. All along it was only cold, steely resolve, no argument, no emotion. She practically severed all relations with her in-laws and even her parents from the moment her husband died.

The train left Kharagpur at 12.05 hrs. It will take at least three hours to reach Howrah. The Old-age Home at Sodepur is another hour from there by taxi. I managed a window seat and looked out. Small and big houses near the railway track were like small islands. In one house a young bride is putting her clothes to dry, in another, a man is carrying a bucket god knows where. Only I could see each of them like a kite looking down at the earth from the sky, and longed for a simple life like any one of them: wife, children, cows, pond…… I should call Sona, did they inform her by now? She picked up the phone as if she was waiting for my call. She wept silently, then said “Bhai, I am not coming. She never bothered about us, put our house on rent and lived in the Old Age Home rather than staying with us. Paritosh uncle was everything for her. Now, there is no point in reciting some ‘mantras’ over her dead body.”

The local trains have one advantage; one can have tea and snacks any time. I asked for tea in a plastic cup. Paritosh uncle! He was a colleague of my father. He came to our house for the first time, when Sona had been critically ill; called the doctor, got the tests done, brought medicines and then onwards became a frequent visitor. A bachelor, with no immediate family, he became a part of our joys and sorrows, but not a part of the family. Initially, tongues wagged all around. But, everything has an expiry date. The scandal also died its own death.

It takes about an hour to reach Sodepur from Howrah, but it is difficult to get a Taxi for that part of the city. At last one Sardarji took pity on me. He even permitted me to smoke….. Things changed when Sona got married. She asked Maa to sell the house and stay with her. Maa didn’t agree. Sona got wild, “Do you think we are deaf and dumb? We know why you don’t want to move out of Kolkata. Both of us will be away. Now, you two won’t have any problem to stay together. Have you ever thought how we will face the society?” Maa remained silent but Sona went on and on. At last Maa got up and said, “It was my mistake that all along I thought exactly like you. Once you are married you became a part of the society. Where were you and your society all these years? Where do I go from here? ……Become your liability! What about Paritosh? Now that my son has a job and daughter is married I should forget him and go back to society as a successful mother. Isn’t it?” Sona never came back to Sodepur thereafter.

By the time I reached the Home it was five. They were waiting for me in the office. I was offered a glass of water. It tasted bland. I was longing for a cleaner bell-metal glass, very cool and comforting; Maa said it was a gift for me when I first tasted rice on the sixth month. Suddenly I felt a shiver ran down my spine. She is lying there in the Hall, waiting for me to light the pyre. She had held my hand when I lighted the pyre of my father. Now, who is going to do that? I got up and slowly moved towards the Hall. I pushed the door ajar, and saw him stooping over a human form covered with white cloth. He was whispering something; in the silence of the mortuary each word distinctly audible: “he has just reached. I made all arrangements; Fruits, sandesh and tea in the flask….. He will come. Wait a little while more! Try to understand his pain! He has lost his mother; Mother!”

Helpless rage engulfed me like wild fire. I held his shoulder with both hands and turned him towards me. “What do you know about pain? Have you ever felt it? You had been a dumb fellow all your life. Even today you are behaving like a fool, talking to dead, cold body. Yes! She is dead today, but even earlier she had been cold throughout her life, to me, to you, to herself.” Paritosh uncle smiled, as he used to in difficult situations and said, “Khoka, she never liked displaying her love and emotions; she used to convey it through her actions. Unfortunately, we seldom recognized it. I have got so much from her that I won’t be able to repay it even in my next birth, if at all it exists.”

My throat choked, my vision got blurred, and I could not speak. Paritosh uncle hugged me tightly and whispered in my ears, “Khoka, now you have to take over and see to it that she gets a beautiful farewell. I shall come tomorrow and hand over the bank papers, the ornaments and her will.” He moved one step closer to the plank, where the woman was lying inert, closed his eyes for a few seconds and left the room in hurried steps. I wanted to shout “stop!”, but couldn’t. he saw my outstretched hand, came back and said, “calm down! I know you will understand.” I removed the white cloth from the face. I could guess she must have been seeing someone or something beautiful when she died from her half-closed eyes and smiling lips.

- Amar Mudi

My father is an author, poet, theater enthusiast, bengali translator and is worse than me at maintaining blogs.
 So i keep posting some of his poems on my blog from time to time. Please do read and comment. 

You can also email your response to amarmudi@yahoo.com to get in touch with him tell him your opinions.

Tilling the Earthwoman: A Chennai Wedding That MAKES A DIFFERENCE

Tilling the Earthwoman: A Chennai Wedding That MAKES A DIFFERENCE:

This is a post I have taken from Bhavna's blog and honestly it’s a story worth retelling. Full credits to her for such a beautiful blog post. Please make all your comments on her post. And hope such feelings of generosity are instilled in more of us. I only wanted to share the story so more people could read this.

I was thinking that morning—this is one wedding I want to attend, one wedding that I would cherish attending, where I would delight in giving the wedding gift.

I don’t enjoy weddings. I am not into competitive dressing, competitive jewelry showcasing, or latest gossip, or assessing if bride and groom are “match made in heaven.”

But this wedding, the wedding of Thilak and Dhana on June 1st 2012 will be different. It is a wedding that MAKES A DIFFERENCE. How?

1. The wedding reception will be a fundraiser for an education fund for underprivileged children. No box gifts allowed; only donations to the fund.

2. The children from 8 homes in Chennai have been invited to the wedding reception. They will join in the celebration equally as rest of us.

3. The bride will not wear any silk clothes or expensive ornaments and the wedding will follow a much-researched simple ritual attended by close relatives.

It sounds simple, doesn’t it? And yet so hard to actually execute! How does a bride tell her family that she does not want to get dressed up and that she wants to marry so that she can adopt? And that the groom wants to pay for the reception from his pocket—not his parents or in-laws? And that he says No to gifts? Thilak and Dhana have waited almost 2 years to convince their family to do just that!

Nope, Dhana and Thilak were not in love when they first thought of marriage. You see, both of them are uncommon, a little odd. Dhana had been avoiding marriage, for her passion was with animals and social work. Thilak had decided he would not marry for he was convinced that he could not find a companion who would share his social passion, his adventurous spirit, and his quiet spirituality. But Gods smiled at these two wonderful individuals and brought them together in a way that is so apt!

A little baby girl called Theresa played cupid in this couple’s life. Who is Theresa? She was a non-affected six-month old girl abandoned by her teenaged HIV+ve mother. She first triggered motherly love in Dhana’s heart. Then Dhana proposed to Thilak, a friend then, to marry her so that she could adopt the baby. Adoption homes try to find parents before the baby turns one year as children find it difficult to adjust to new homes as they grow up. Dhana could not convince her folks in time and Theresa was adopted by another set of loving parents. But the wedding fundraiser in June is in the name of Theresa Educational Fund commemorating the love that brought these two beautiful individuals together.

I have known Thilak for sometime now. I first ran into him in the India Against Corruption movement and thereafter discovered that Thilak had dedicated his life to the welfare of the underprivileged children. He is the co-founder of Sevai Karangal along with Nandan which monitors and supports eight Children’s homes in the city of Chennai. The organization works with a difference: They don’t just donate. Rather they ensure people engage with the homes and the children. The monthly social treks conducted by Chennai Trekking Club take Chennaiites to celebrate their birthdays at the Children’s homes or take the children out on joyful treks. For more information on social treks, please go towww.chennaitrekkers.org.

Thilak insists that what children need is attention and love more than anything else—a sense of familiarity, a joy. He raises funds for infrastructure—he had a block built at one of the homes when he noticed the rooms were cramped for the kids. He organized for water filters after he tested the water in couple of the homes. He raises funds for their school books and stationery and uniforms. He raises funds for their education. He along with other volunteers organizes Diwali events at the homes. He also supports an Old Age home. Till date he has channelized close to Rs. 7 lacs to the various homes in about 4 years.

And he monitors closely if the money is being utilized effectively, if children are being taken care of properly. I remember once I was travelling with him to a meeting, when he asked, if I would accompany him to a surprise visit at a home nearby. We bought some goodies for the kids and dropped in. Thilak later explained that these sudden visits help him gauge the real situation and also keeps the pressure on caretakers at the homes.

Besides engagement and funding, the organization has also set-up a mentorship project called Navigator, akin to the Big Brother Big Sister program in United States and workshops to improve creative skills in the children.

No, Thilak is not from any rich family. The poor guy shuffles his time between work and passion so that he can sustain himself as well as provide for his passion. Dhana is not a rich girl either. She is rich in her heart.

As these two ordinary citizens of our country take that seven steps to bind themselves in matrimony, they do more than that—they set an example for others to follow, they give meaning to the structure called marriage, they bring hope in the lives of so many children, they bring faith back to cynical hearts.

So please join me in extending blessings and heartfelt wishes to this lovely couple. You can Facebook Thilak at https://www.facebook.com/theluckraj and learn more about Sevai Karangal at www.sevaikarangal.org. If you are in Chennai, do join a social trek!

Airtel Delhi Half Marathon 2011

Thirty odd people from all age groups were standing right outside the Nehru Place Metro Station on a cold wintery morning. The excitement was plentiful, and between them they were putting turbans and flowers on their heads while also distributing flags amongst themselves. It was 7:00 in the morning; the few bystanders glanced curiously at the bunch bursting to ask what all this was about. The preparation was for the Airtel Half Marathon in Delhi, organised by Concern India Foundation. The temperature was just right and even the people who thought that they couldn’t do it were excited and warming up. The temperature was slightly low but not freezing. The excitement was pretty high.

ETASHA Team members and Friends were all getting ready for the 6 km run to help raise funds for a 100 girls to train in The ETASHA IGNOU community college. After about 2 months of effort we did come quite a way. The excitement was sky high. So was the energy. With bright yellow T-shirts, colorful turbans, flowers, Yellow flags, sport shoes and big smiles, we all walked into the station.

The number of people in and around Jawahar Lal Nehru Stadium, where the race began, were all teaming and talking about what they were expecting. Music was playing inside the stadium. And everyone was dressed to look like teams. It was so much fun watching people with different kinds of clothing and costumes, with weird hair, or pom-poms to cheer on the others. The 21 km Half-marathon had already started and some of the cheers for people could be heard from a fair distance. 9 of our students and 1 of our facilitators were running in the half marathon so it was quiet exciting to go over to see how they were doing too. We saw them doing the last 500 meters of the race. Being cheered by the bystanders who were encouraging clapping all the runners. These runners have done their personal best for this marathon and I believe they will do even better next year.

The 6 Km Great Delhi Run was about to begin. The shouts and screams made the enthusiasm palpable to even the nearby residents. The musicians on patios around the race track were singing peppy music and there were cheerleaders dancing to music on other platforms… Radio jockeys were talking about the event too.

So many teams had participated that even after the beginning of the run we had to wait at least 20 mins before we saw any of the participants from TEAM ETASHA. And when they came we were screaming as if it was celebrity… it was so much fun watching everyone cheer and wave while they were running by. Some of the students couldn’t hold their excitement and sprinted by, dodging many-many other participants, while waving to everyone or anyone who looked and smiled at their costume.

About an hour later I saw some of them coming back… surprisingly not looking tired at all. In fact, looking all the more energetic than they left. They were talking to people around them. Answering questions to bystanders and also looking forward to finishing the run. With some 10 thousand more people running too, it looked like they had mingled and yet managed to stand out.

Lots of smiles and Photographs later, we were all sitting on the stairs to the entrance of the JLN stadium, Sharing experiences, and talking about how all of us came together well. The students who ran the half marathon also talked about their achievements. It was a great and successful event where more than anything else the entire team had a sense of camaraderie.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays.

Signing off…

The Proposal Disposal Theorem

Not everything goes according to plan. That has been man’s biggest problem since his inception. You plan one thing and then it metamorphoses into a completely different situation. I’m starting with such an immensely deep thought to just share a few of the lighter moments of our classes These are instances from our various classes which have made us pull our hair/laugh/bang our heads/ and share it with everyone immediately after the class with everyone else. The students have also done the same and then some. I think regular followers of our blog have read Ian’s Experience a few years ago. For those who haven’t. I think you all should.

Instance 1

– CSWC 47 – “They are making use of the adjectives in the class for other times. It was good to see them putting them into practice, for instance, while we were in the metro train during the metro visit a male passenger stood half asleep and the look was such that his eyes appeared bulging out. Pooja saw this and could not help but laugh and from this the sentence “He is scary” came out. The only problem here being, he wasn’t really sleeping and then actually gave us all a “scary” look

Instance 2

– CSWC 45 – “I was really upset that one of the trainees wasn’t regular to class. And was on one of the ‘You need to be more regular’ lectures. Having finished the adverbs class just before this session, one of the friends of this student piped up “Ma’am, don’t scold him. He works hardly”. 

I tried to correct him saying “not 'hardly', he works 'hard'” 

He – “No ma’am, he works hardly. He hardly works sincerely. aap bina jane bol rahe ho” 

Me (in utter confusion)- but I agree with you, I know he is a hard worker. “No ma’am, he has got so many gold coins. He hardly deserves them.” 

The whole class supported him because he hardly works… 

Hardly a day where I would have won the argument.

Instance 3 

Listening skills – We were playing Chinese whispers and I gave the sentence “the saxophone sounds beautiful” Student – “ma’am yeh sab baatein aise nahi bolte. Shadi hone ke baad bolte hain.” (Ma’am these are not things that you should say before marriage)

Instance 4

Listening skills – in a rather peaceful discussion, suddenly I heard a commotion on the other side of the room. One of the guys just got up… and the next thing I know there are punches flying around. The lesson was crafty, and I was new, and the group dynamics were such that the whole situation promptly turned into a great fight. I was so shocked. I went in to separate them and tell them to quiet and calm down, which only happened after I pretended to get punched in my eye…in a purely Hindi film way… with my “ouch” there was a deathly silence, and me taking the Mickey out of them and scaring them was, well, a great way to just make everyone back to being friends.

Instance 5

– Certificate ceremony – we had asked a couple of students to share their learning with the crowd. All the students were talking about their English, Confidence, and their friendships, and learning experience. The last one to speak however decided that he wants to be different “I learnt how to talk to good looking girls, without being nervous”. When he saw the look on everybody’s faces, he said “whether people agree or not, I know that’s a secret wish every boy of my age has”

Aparna

(*not ALL these experiences are mine. other facilitators have contributed too)