The morning hunger !

Let's talk about classroom hunger!  

Many of us who work in the field of education would not usually put these two words together. We associate classrooms with learning, teaching or sadly as in the case of many government and private schools “lack of learning”. 

I was not keenly aware of this concept of classroom hunger until very recently. My closest engagement with this was with occasional review or proposing “solutions” to the Mid-day Meal (MDM) scheme or as it has been recently christened as PM POSHAN scheme. Over the years, working with multiple state government departments and interacting with senior education bureaucrats, I have seen how this monitoring, tracking and reporting of the mid-day-meal scheme takes up a disproportionate amount of time & mind-share. The other serious contender and culprit of the time and attention of senior bureaucrats is the sheer number of court cases they have to “personally appear” and deal with. 

As you can imagine, we in the education sector often tend to talk about this as something of a compulsion and distraction for the entire system. It's not unusual to hear even from the teachers that this is an unwanted responsibility that takes away some part of the valuable teaching-learning time in the classrooms. When questioned about the poor learning outcomes of the children and the obvious gaps in the teaching-learning process teachers usually blame the lack of engagement of the community (parents) and having so many non-teaching responsibilities primary of them being the mid-day-meal scheme for children as a reason why they are not able to focus on children's learning. Some in the sector also call this out as one of the problems or reasons for limited “time-on-task”. 

I would listen to such remarks and often respond with almost a reaction that I might have borrowed from somewhere "let us remember that for many children in our country, the mid-day-meal is probably the only nutritious meal of the day". I would just say it like a parrot without a deeper understanding of what I am saying or feeling the pain, the deprivation and the helplessness that unwanted hunger makes one feel and here we are talking about young children of age 6-14. 

I began to grasp this problem with some understanding after listening to the experiences of my team members working in Bihar. One of my colleagues who works out of a district office of the state and has to undertake regular school visits as a part of his role was sharing with me ironically as we were having a team dinner at Patna, about his experiences and made this statement almost matter-of-factly “...during school visits, when I interact with children I do start with asking what they have had for breakfast in the morning, and most of the times children reply in the negative or look away in silence signaling unmistakably that they have not had anything to eat in the morning before they came to school…they come to school empty-stomach…"  

His experience and understanding was first-hand, his feeling and pain was palpable. This made a different impact or at least deepened the understanding of the problem that this mid-day-meal scheme was trying to solve. Lest the analytical minds of people like me dismiss this as a one off incident or with questions of ‘how representative is it of the state wide situation’, a few weeks later at another team review meeting we had at least six of such colleagues confirm that a large majority of children do come to the school empty-stomach without anything to eat in the morning. 

Please let that sink in. For a large number of children coming to our government schools, the mid-day-meal is not just the only healthy or nutritious meal of the day but probably the first meal of the day of any kind! This is the stark, sad reality of the large number of parents and the families who send their children to our government schools. There is such poverty, deprivation and helplessness that they cannot afford to feed their young children before sending them to school. 

I would not be able to imagine, much less understand nor would many of you who are reading this, what kind of homes these children live in, what kind of jobs their parents work for, how little they earn, what kind of possessions they have or rather do not have! One can only vaguely imagine the relief and the reassurance these parents and families have when they know that their children will at least have something healthy and nutritious to eat around noon when the school serves a hot cooked meal to their child to eat. If this is the reality of our children and families that after 78 years of our independence, how likely it is to expect that we will be able to guarantee the child her right to education or the right to learn?

I was now able to understand or at least place in context, what some these colleagues shared as a part of their school observations “...children leave as soon as they have had their mid day meal” or the often quoted literature or anecdotal evidence that “..children come to the government schools only to have the mid-day-meal..”. 

I was almost tempted to reply “why shouldn’t they?” It was becoming clearer to me that the parents are sending the kids to the government schools to get at least something they know that child will get i.e. a good nutritious meal. Now, many of us have come across so many reports or even have experienced ourselves the not-as-per-expectation quality of the meals served to children, reports of irregularity in the provision of food, occasional health hazards due to lack of attention during preparation etc. If anything, please let these incidents not take away from the massive effort of the Indian state to provide hot cooked meals to 120 million children across 1.2 million government schools daily! Remember the last time you and I invited around 10-15 friends and tried to host them for lunch/dinner maybe once-twice a month/quarter. Contrast that with the effort it takes for the government (with all of our allegations of poor capacity) to ensure 120 million children are provided cooked food across the length & breadth of the country across 1.2 million government schools. My senior colleagues shared with me that the provision of the mid day meal is being monitored almost as a highest priority with the number of children who are taking the mid-day-meal is tracked on a daily basis and the availability of adequate ration food-grains oils and other food materials is almost checked on a weekly basis.      

It is in the backdrop of this extremely limited and non experiential understanding of the problem that I was invited to be a part of a discussion on school-meals organised by an established foundation, consulting companies and other sector exports. I would have reacted to the discussions in a very different manner, not atypical of people who are seen as sector experts or people who have been working with the governments for a long time by underestimating the efforts or saying “the government is already doing this, there is no need for anything else, it’s too difficult etc.”.  

I tried to listen and heard a different but sincere articulation of the problem and the solution. The foundations or funders said that they believed that school meals provide some of the highest return on investment “...almost $9 for every $1 invested”. The consulting company shared that there are interesting models of financing additional expenditure required to provide meals to children. These discussions were focussed more on providing meals to complement and supplement the government's efforts such as providing a healthy breakfast to the children or a health drink towards the end of the day. Again many state governments have taken lead in this matter by taking steps such as in the state of Telangana where we work very closely with the education department, last year a breakfast scheme for children was introduced and also ragi health drink was provided to the children towards the end of the day. I remember the state government of Gujarat also providing milk and other supplements to children. There was an encouraging presentation by one of the civil society organisations funded by CSR which claimed that they are providing additional school meals to at least 10 million children across different parts of the country in the form of breakfast millet-laddus or health drinks. I could appreciate the efforts better as I had a slightly improved understanding of the problem through the experiences of my team. 

When my turn came to share or contribute, I re-articulated what I heard from my senior colleague Kamal Nath Jha that the mid day meal scheme has at least four major objectives such as (a) removing classroom hunger, (b) ensuring nutrition of children, (c) fostering inclusion in school whereby children of different backgrounds, community eat & share their food together, and hopefully as a result of all this (d) children engage in learning and we are able to retain them in schools for longer. 

I went on to add that the government is providing a lot of inputs to this scheme in terms of resources, time and attention and tracking them very meticulously  but they do not monitor the outcomes and definitely not all the outcomes or objectives as my colleague articulated to me. To the best of my limited knowledge, currently we only have the NFHS which measures the percentage of “underweight” and “stunted” children once in 3 years and reports the same. This resonated with the people in the consultation who went on to add that at least nutrition can be tracked in more details such as percentage of Severely Malnourished and Moderately malnourished children (SAM & MAM as some would know). 

I summarised that we need to track these critical outcomes much more reliably, consistently and regularly either individually or as a composite score so that we all raise awareness & understand the issue. Something similar to what the ASER report by Pratham has done for learning needs to be done for nutrition and classroom hunger. 

Many years of working closely with the government schools we have come to understand and normalise the fact that the children who come to the government schools are actually coming because their parents do not have a choice and they cannot afford even the small fees charged by the so-called low-fee or “affordable” private schools. Now some of us are keenly aware that many of the parents who send their children to the government schools are the ones who are not able to provide them with two square meals a day. They only or the first outcome they want or expect this large, powerful and well-resourced system to deliver is removal of classroom hunger, proper nutrition for their children and retention in schools. 

Can we at least try to ensure that?  

When we were locked in !

This is my first attempt at photo blogging! I am not too sure of the rules and formats and not sure even how useful is this platform for the same but we won't know until we try. 

This relates to the period when we were all locked indoors due to the COVID-19 pandemic. When our freedom to step out of our homes at will, our choice of meeting people (friends, colleagues, strangers) and doing what we wish was taken away. Forced to see the world from the limiting frames of our windows and balconies, I found the frame of camera liberating. The frame allowed me to look up to the skies, zoom in and look at objects far away, zoom out get a different perspective, step back to soak in the surroundings all through the power of the lens. One of the things that my wife and I used to talk about is the colour of the sky. I used to joke around that in Delhi the sky is brown or grey because of the terrible air pollution. The AQI numbers of Delhi were usually a matter for memes as we had stopped worrying about it beyond a point and started to make jokes about it. Due to the pandemic induced lock down the AQI numbers were as good as any other city and "the sky was never blue(er)" as my wife often remarked. 

I was particularly fascinated by the birds in and around my house and the small park facing it. We live in one of the smaller blocks of the busy and bustling Malviya Nagar in the southern part of Delhi. Delhi contrary to it's image and actual status of one of the most polluted cities of the world with worst AQIs which are often 7-10 times that of the accepted range, is home to a large species and number of birds. There could be many reasons for it but one of them is the fact that Delhi for a capital city of a large, populous country has one of the largest percentage of green cover in terms of forests, parks and natural habitats. Most pockets of Delhi's 'colonies' or 'blocks' would have a small or big park. 

Where one would find common birds like pigeons, crows and bulbuls along with many other small birds such as the sun-bird, fly-catcher and others. 

And just because they don't have a fancy name, we see them everywhere around us and do not have to travel to somewhere and wait for sometime doesn't take anything away from their beauty, their cheerfulness, playfulness and voices.

We have a special relationship with the pigeons though. We love them, hate them but can't do without them and vice versa it seems. They are always eager to come to our small balcony, sit on our AC, do their thing (yes!) and even tried to make their nest and lay eggs. We call them our 'boys' and one of the first things that my wife does in the mornings is to clean up the mess the boys leave around and rest of the day it's my job to shoo them away. But boys will be boys! 

And boys like to do boys things! They reproduce and their children do necessarily take after them initially but soon they too become part of the 'boys' and we can't tell one from the other.

These are pigeons too (they are called yellow-footed green pigeons and are apparently the state bird of Maharashtra)

When you are forced to slow down and be steady, you observe the change in things, you otherwise would not. Like we saw the change of seasons through this peepul tree: where we saw how the lush green leaves of the tree turned pale-yellow, fell to the ground leaving the tree without any leaves but where hope and life slowly found it's way back. We saw the cycle of life repeat itself again and again.

These vegetable vendors and other essential service providers were the only humans we could see other than ourselves. It was interesting how it took a pandemic to make us realise what was essential and what was not! How these jobs and people, hitherto unnoticed became celebrated as frontline workers and heroes. But for how long?

We also saw deep compassion and thoughtfulness for not just humans but animals. This guy would turn up at the exact same hour, sun or rain; serve the dogs of our and other streets with cooked food on paper plates and then come back to collect the plates.

Here are some of the rockstars and celebrities! Well, I know some of their names and could share details but just enjoy their beauty, grace and poise ! 

Will end this blog with a story of hope. I was told that sparrows - the common house sparrow had apparently almost disappeared from Delhi some time back. Maybe because of some efforts, or some prayers or hope but most certainly because of the wonderful ways nature works they have now made a comeback. 

Do leave a comment. On the photos or the writing or both. All photos were taken by a human (me) using a Canon EOS gifted to us many many years back by family. To the freedom to be out of our homes, fly away from the routine, travel and live.

Hope for learning and learning for hope

It's hard for me to feel elated, ecstatic and upbeat about the day i.e. 15 Aug, our independence day. I am not a pessimist but it's hard to look beyond the 'here and now' and find solace in what we have achieved as a country in all these years and feel as euphoric at least not as we are supposed to feel about it - 'Har Ghar Tiranga', 'Har office Tiranga' and post-selfies about it and 'Amrit kaal' the echoes of which is going to last another 1000 years or so we are told. 

Well, people who have tried to control, predict and shape history with their vice like-grips, ever-so-sure about the firmness of their iron-fists, the certainty of results of their actions, infallibility of their designs and programs (or pogroms if you like) have often lived to see something different, unexpected and disastrous befall their el-dorado or utopia. Some of such mythical, imaginative (as they have no base in reality) and utterly nefarious designs, structures and actions may take a few generations to be decimated and pulverised to the dust of time! 

Coming back to 'what is' and 'what would be' makes one a bit poignant, a bit pessimistic, almost forcing one to flee and avoid these thoughts and find solace in work, endless distractions on phone, music, Netflix (cinema, webseries) or in travel, yoga or gym, in social occassions, family and other banalities of the day! 

Yes, we have achieved many things and the very existence of this nation-state as a sovereign (yes we are not directly governed by another country), democratic (at least in pretention of adult franchise, elections and government) and united (yeah, we haven't had state(s) splinter away from the country, a civil war that resulted in a coo or similar) should be celebrated. We are doing better than ever as economists and statisticians will tell us in terms of well-being not only in economic development (GDP, GDP per capita, roads, ports, airports, infra and what have you!) but also in social indicators of health, education, nutrition etc. Many social disaparities have reduced such as access of girls and socially disadvantaged groups (SC, STs) to primary education, women's participation in economy etc. So what's the crib about? 

The gripe isn't about the direction; it's about the pace, the inclusiveness and wholeness (of texture) of this progress or growth we have achieved in all these years after independence. 

Let's unpack one by one. The pace or quantum or rate of growth. It's hard to disagree that a faster rate of progress would have been better, that's the nature of any growth, more always seems better! But, haven't we done well looking at the constraints of resources (we were left an extremely poor country) and where we started (our baseline was so low!)? Yes, we have done well compared to where we were (the starting line) but one has to also look at where one should be (the finishing line)! I will quote only one set of statistics of a field I know well - education and can argue, debate with facts, data, experience and understanding. But, I am urging you to reflect if the same is true of other areas of human life. 

We have ensured (today and almost for a few years now) that almost all (90% or more) of our primary school going age children are enrolled in some or the other school (government or private). This we should be happy about. Could we have done this earlier ? Yes. There was no reason why we couldn't have started earnest efforts soon after moving education into the concurrent list in 1977; making universal primary education as a national goal as we did after the MDGs prioritised Education for All (EFA) and allocating resources and efforts towards it for the next 20-25 years as we did under Sarva Shiksha Abhiyan (SSA). We could have been where we are today in the early 2000s! 

Second, talking about the wholeness of things. Most children are enrolled in schools but only 60-70% of them attend schools regularly. I am taking a larger range to accomodate and avoid discussions about which sources I am using and reliability of one versus the other - ASER, NAS, NFHS or anything else. And as with any avereges, they mask the situation or starkness of data - so Bihar, UP (and that's a lot) attendance situation is 45-60%. Enrolment is not schooling ! My name is there in a school register, is not equal to I go to school. Simple? 

Third, more than half of the children in the schools are not learning the foundational skills of reading, writing and basic maths. The world bank calls it 'learning poverty', some of us call it a 'learning crisis' and even 'learning emergency'. It is all of that. Again, let's not get into statistics, data reliability, incentives or under or over reporting here. I can separately engage on it. More than half of all children (mind you this is regardless of private or public) of primary age not learning or acquiring these basic universal skills would means crores of children, 7-8 crores of them ! Let that sink in slowly, take your time. 

To come back to the inclusiveness of the progress. It shouldn't be too hard to guess who would be the majority of these 7-8 crore children. Children belonging to SC, ST, religious minorities, remote rural areas, girls, children enrolled in all government or affordable private schools? In other words, children of poor parents or parents who are unable to spend large amount of money on their child's education or life. That's the single biggest determinant - parental income. So, income poverty is the reason for learning poverty and further those children who are subjected to learning poverty today are the ones who will very likely suffer from income poverty as they become adults and start their families due to lack of these basic universal skills. I used the word subjected to learning poverty as we the state (people of this republic) are responsible for it not the child. 

We even guaranteed it (mind you not enrollment in schools, but education or learning) as a fundamental right ! So, if the children are not learning, we have failed to provide and ensure that right for them. 

I want to end with 'what would be' and yet again in this age and times of post-truth (basically falsehood) something that doesn't give a lot of scope for optimism is that if we are not aligned on a single picture of reality today how can we on the plans and direction of future. In fact to make matters worse, some people are actively attempting to change 'what was' i.e. history! What happened, happened! Yes, we know that certain narratives get more prominence than others - that of the victors and that of the rulers but alternative narratives do exists and they come out in their own time and space. It is for the students of history and others interested to pick a wholesome meal out of this buffet of narratives. But for a section of those who are ruling today (and in majority) for the furtherance of a bigoted agenda, driven by the desire to shape the future, it's not very scientific or healthy to attempt to change the past. 

That's worrisome yet again not just because we are making a mistake or many mistakes or going down the wrong path! That we have done many times in the past and will continue to do so. It's the systematic shutting down or the attempts to shut down the possibility of learning (from our mistakes and successes both) that's the most concerning for me. Starting with poor learning for children but certainly extending all the way to the very poor learning (or re-learning tending to brainwashing) of adult-citizen, fuelled and fully aided by media, technology and the powers of narratives. 

Societies and nations will continue to make mistakes and have deep rootes challenges of class-divide, caste (this is our special contribution), religion, region, language, sex, sexual-orientation and everything else that can divide (and interestingly unite) the homo-sapien but as long as we learn there is hope ! 

There is !

Sincere, apologies for lack of editing and mistakes. I just typed this whole thing on phone and posted it. 

foundation literacy and numeracy (FLN) stories from my early years !

The choice of the title should not surprise people who are aware of my recent work and what I do. Still, worth mentioning again that I work in the education sector (primarily advising/supporting governments) and in recent years, focus more on early learning which the New Education Policy (NEP) and state governments across the country prioritise as Foundation Literacy and Numeracy (FLN). 

Over a visit to friends, I was recounting a few anecdotes from my childhood to a "FLN grade" girl - my niece, Ohana and I thought some of them would be a good reads for others as well. 

Will start with couple of stories shared by my mother about her grandfather. He (Banshi Babu or simply Babu for the villagers) was a really influential and affluent zamindar in the Jagatsinghpur district of Odisha who was revered and feared. He had a tall, strong figure and a booming voice to support that image. I had seen some black and white pictures of him at my late grandfather's (Aja's) place, including one holding a ten month old me, and I concur! 

My mother was a good student all her life as my mausis (aunts) and other family members would share and yet again I had seen black and white pictures of her as a school girl with two pony tails, holding aloft a large shied/trophy; but she did not start out like this. In her early years, in the village school, which as you might have guessed, was set-up by Banshi Babu, she was often called out by a particular teacher as a stupid and naughty girl. One day, failing to do something that was asked of her, my mother was pulled to the front of the class by the teacher and as a means of chastisement, he wrote the Odiya word 'Gadha' (donkey/fool/stupid) in reverse on the blackboard and asked her to paste her cheek to it. So, my mother spent the entire day with the word 'Gadha' written on her cheek. Well, those were the days no one had heard of capital punishment ! This teacher actually had some tiff with our family and clearly the only thing he could do to extract revenge from the zamindar of the village was to take it out on the old man's grand-daughter. 

My uncle (a year older to my mother) was furious when he saw my mother back at home and took her to their grandfather, who instead of getting angry at the teacher and unleashing wrath on the poor gentleman simply asked my mother 

'What exactly was the question he asked you?'

'He asked me to do some mathematics questions and I made a mistake' my mother replied.  

'Is it? What exactly did he ask?' 
'He asked me do some basic addition and subtraction...' my mother was almost in tears. 
'Cry out loud you stupid girl ! Well, everyone makes mistakes, but you didn't have to roam around the whole day across the school with this 'Gadha' printed on your face. At least wipe out the chalk mark on your face now.' my uncle was clearly furious. 
'But he asked me not to...' my mother said sobbingly. 
'Okay, okay. I do not know why there is so much fuss about this simple matter.' their grandfather was trying to restore order. 

'But I did not know how to solve the questions...' my mother was still in tears. 

'come, I will teach my grand daughter mathematics. Get you silata (slate) and come here.'  

He then he broke into a rhyme in Odia, which is reproduced below and literally means "if you master Division, Multiplication, Subtraction and Addition; Rest all subjects are a child's play". 

Hara, Gun, Fede, Misha; Au sabu patha phasare phasa !!   

My mother retired as a Maths teacher from Kendriya Vidyalaya, Bhubaneswar and had always been a sought after teacher, often teaching secondary grades and primary grades with equal joy and elan. One day quite irritated by my lack of 'grade appropriate learning levels' she even threatened to look up my Engineering Mathematics book and teach me during my graduation! 

She had developed a unique style of introducing mathematics topics/chapters through poems and rhymes she composed. She would get the children to read out with her the poems/rhymes before she got into the chapter. The kids would love the rhymes and often remember them even if they might have forgotten some topics of the chapter. After many years, her students (and to some extent my father) requested her and pushed her to pen down all those rhymes and publish them.  

The second anecdote is related to forgetting and understanding and yet again relates to Banshi Babu. My mother has five sisters and being one of the older ones, she literally doubled up as a teacher, friend, confidante and even mother to them as they were growing up in Jagatsinghpur. One day as my mother was trying hard to teach one of her younger sisters and comparing one with the other, their grandfather was passing by. He enquired what the matter was in his booming voice. My uncle sprung up from somewhere and tried to pass this as a usual fight among his six sisters and get them reprimanded by the old man.

Banshi babu rather sat both my mother and my uncle down and told them about different types of learners using 'Permutation and Combination' of two simple words - 'Cheer' (meaning taking a long time) and 'Bega' (meaning fast/quick).

He said "look, there are all kinds of students and they all learn and memorise differently. there is:

1. beg-bega (one who understands a new concept very quickly, but also forgets equally quickly)
2. cheer-cheera (one who takes a long time to remember or understand a concept, but once done, remembers the same for long time)

then he went on to add, 

the best one is...

3. beg-cheera (one who understands a new concept very quickly and remembers the same for long time)  

and the worst one is clearly...
4. cheer-bega (one who takes a really long time to remember or understand a concept but alas! also forgets it too fast!)

A lesson, clearly that would have been handy for my mother in all her years as a teacher. 

I move to my own (paternal) grandmother for my final story. She was a very tall, dark and strong woman. I can't recall very well if she had completed her school or not. Mostly likely she finished primary grades and that was it. She was quite strong physically and would proudly share a story of her being able to lift the large brass pots (think of something twice in size/breadth of a gas cylinder) used to boil rice, which some of the men in our large extended family could not! She was quite strong mentally and emotionally as well and understood the value of education. She would get up a 3 AM, finish all the chores and make some tiffin for my father to carry before he got on the early morning train to Bhubaneswar during his graduation. 

All through my growing up years, she was often given charge of ensuring that I spend the required time at studies, particularly because she and I shared the room at our village home. On the rare, eagerly awaited days when mother and father would go out to Bhubaneswar for some work, she would be the 'villian' who would ensure that I am 'sitting in front of books', 'not watching TV' and would happily chase me down with a cane in hand, if I had managed to sneak away to play with friends in our village. Interestingly, we had a parrot whom she had taught many things to say including 'Papu, patha padhunu' (meaning, Papu, why don't you study!). I would often call out in frustration, 'as if there were not enough humans urging me to study all the time!!'. 

I have never learnt Odiya at school. I spent my FLN years (Grade 1-3) at Vishakhapatnam where my mother started her career as a teacher at KV Malkapuram for their mandatory 'outside the state' posting. We came back to KV Khurda Road/Jatani after few years and that's where I finished my school. Again, no chance of learning Odiya at school. 

It was my grandmother and to some extent my grandfather who taught me to read, write and understand Odiya. I vividly remember some of the first books which were essentially 'Illustrated Ramayana and Mahabhratas' that my grandmother introduced to me. She would spend the entire afternoon and evening with me and my sister encouraging her to practice writing Odiya letters, numerals and/or getting me to read aloud stuff from one or the other books. I really took on to mythology and the stories of Ramayana and Mahabharata; so much so, that in later years my grandfather and his friends would often call on me to resolve a conflict among old men of "who was whose son" or.... "who married who" with respect to any of the mythological characters from these epics. They were super proud of me. Yet, again all that credit goes to them as my first teachers. Had it not been for them, I would not have been able to read and write in my own mother tongue.      

Thank you won't be enough for such teachers!  

the head of the family - my badaapa

I used to often say in jest, "my family is a village and my village is my family" referring to the ten-fifteen households of 'Mohanty Sahi' of our Chhanaghara-Kushamati village, though there were fewer Mohantys than 'Das'es (our family name). It always felt like a big large family-village, while growing up, in this relatively modern village, just on the outskirts of the railway town of Jatani, which was just on the outskirts of the capital town Bhubaneswar. We were all a part of the same family tree and while the parents and especially grandparents had the exact nature of relationships - who got adopted by who, who married into who, who moved out and settled where; for us children it rarely mattered. We used to run around, from one house to the other, play in fields together, stole mangoes and guavas from each other's backyards and celebrated all major festivals as one big family. Everyone knew what was happening with everyone. Everyone was related to everyone. Few years back Kali Badabapa (elder uncle) created a family tree all the way from Anam Das (literally someone without a name) to our generation (with my and my cousins names) typed out with pictures. Badabapa used to say we don't know when this first person came to this village and where from; whether he was a man or god; but we owe it to him to remember him and for future generations to know about him. Hence, he did this meticulous job of capturing the entire family tree and relationships.

My grandfather was the youngest of his brothers and one of the youngest of his generation. They all had their set routines and mostly kept to themselves and one could very well predict where each one of them would be at a particular time of the day. We knew this for sure; it was critical for us to time our trips to gardens or pick the place for mischiefs and games. We needed to know where they would not be! In my father's generation, Kali Badabapa was the eldest in the village and most respected and revered. His father was the eldest among the grand-fathers. And yes, everyone in their generation was addressed as grandfather and everyone in my father's generation was addressed as badabapa (elder uncle) or dada (younger uncle) depending on the relative age. Also, in keeping with those times, there were at least six or seven brothers and sisters in almost every family. The age gap between the brothers and sisters, the age at which they got married and had children vis-a-vis their next generation created some interesting situations. There were uncles who were younger than brothers and sisters older than aunts. To illustrate, the elder children of some of my second cousins (my nephews and nieces) were in fact as old or even older to me. Clear ? Try this. A typical village cricket match score board might read:

Pupu - 4 runs : caught - Chungu (cousin brother), bowled - Dhunda (uncle)

The first story has to be about my birth. Father was posted away somewhere in Odisha (most probably Puri) as a part of his transferable job as OAS. It was the trio of Badabapa, my grandmother and my uncle who took my pregnant mother in an autorickshaw from the village to the Railway Hospital in the nearest town of Jatani. The doctor in-charge there was on leave and the emergency doctor refused to take up this delivery case which was starting to look complicated. It was the month of December and it was getting late, dark and cold. Badabapa decided to take the motley group and head to the District Hospital at Khurda and that is where I was born in the wee hours of the morning. My grandmother used to always narrate a story how I was born the size of a mice - she would always open up her palms to show ‘this is how large this boy was when born and then by Lord Gatiswara’s (Shiva, our village deity) grace once he took in a few breaths, he swelled up to normal size. My mother clearly never believed in the story that her son, born to the size of mice, grew instantaneously after inhaling air and moisture. Badabapa, also confirmed my mother’s version as she was his favorite, almost like a daughter, though the traditional customs require a more formal degree of deference between them. My mother later told me he would always enquire about my health, medicines I was taking, advising my mother to either increase or decrease the dosage etc. How does one even think of thanking someone for this? How does one thank his own blood, for one’s life?

In all the hustle-bustle, fun and memories of village life, one picture of Badabapa that remains firm is that of a man of principles, who had always the interest of the family, village and community paramount. The very sense of right and wrong was determined for many of us by what Badabapa said, advised or decided. If he decided for something, that must be right. Such was his righteousness and fairness that even those elder to him (my grandfather and other grandfathers) would consult him. He was always there in the times of crisis and grief; of his immediate family or otherwise. He was always happy with the progress and success of everyone. He was deeply committed to the village school and its welfare; he was the official and unofficial head of the village committee and would work out matters for the benefit of all, whether related to health or sanitation. When I received the National Balshree Award 1997 from the President of India many people, known and unknown, wished me on many occasions, at school, at Delhi and at home. But the memory of Badabapa pulling me closer to his chest and exclaiming "..well done! you have upheld the name of the clan..", would remain strongly etched on the sands of my memory. I can almost feel his red-checkered gamuchha, white dhoti and droplets of sweat on his bare chest even today.

He and his wife, Maa (again, this was a universal name for all children) were the ideal son and daughter-in-law. Having served bed-ridden parents for nearly two decades with love, affection and fortitude. Most grandmothers (including mine) who as mothers-in-law always had a complaint or two about their daughters-in-law (our mothers and aunts) would never tire of praising Badabapa and Maa. Such was the nature of relationships, that Maa used to call my father 'Bada Babuli' or 'elder Babuli' (Babuli being the name of their first-born). Anytime my father or any of us went to Badabapa's house for something and Maa was around the kitchen, she would not let us leave without serving us something to eat. That still continues even today on our rarer visits to our village.

On the matter of food, sharing and brotherhood, let me recount a story in the memory of an elder cousin brother Chandu Bhai, whom we lost untimely due to a road accident. Manabasa Gurubaar (usually in the month of Nov-December) is a very auspicious and holy festival in Odisha. It is in the honour of Maa Lakshmi and the puja, preparation of delicacies (including the variety of pithas) is led by the women of the family who usually keep a fast. For us children though it is a day of eating various salted and sweet dishes which are usually shared among families. One such Manabasa, Chungu bhai, Chandhu Bhai and I, we sat down together, in the verandah of Badabapa's house which was at the centre of the three families. Maa had put out a large thaali for us and started to serve various delicacies that she had prepared and even some that other families had shared with her. All three of us were unusually (or usually) hungry that day and within minutes, we managed to finish around 3-4 servings by Maa. This was a particularly visible spot and watching us eat there, my mother and other aunts got us peethas, ghantas, dalma from their homes and handed them over to Maa to serve. We finished them in a hurry too. All in one big plate. People gathered around; some from rooftops, to see what looked like an eat-off contest. Sisters and aunts kept coming in with bowls and plates full of delicacies and no sooner than they arrived with plates-full of food, they were consumed. We had no idea, what came from whose home and who ate what. We ate for almost an hour and the quantity and quality of food that we three gulped down remains as the best food memory ever. We would always recollect this memory with a smile mixed with joy and pain (after we lost Chandu bhai).

In later years, whenever I used to visit our village, I would share stories of my travels to different parts of the country, including to religious sites. Badabapa, Maa and some other friends and relatives had formed a motley group of pilgrims who travelled in groups of 10-15 to all the religious places. Badabapa would be the head of the group - he was a natural leader, and plan out all things. He would book the train tickets, work out accommodation, darshan timings etc. After checking my well-being and progress, Badabapa would sit down with a pen and paper and note down as many details as he could about places I had visited and were in his scheme of things to visit. Maa would serve me a small dose of playful scolding alongwith food "...it is you, who gives him all this info and puts these travel plans in his head and then he drags us all along at this age to god knows where all..".

Badabapa used to reflect on the loss of village life and would simply sum it up by saying "..how will a village thrive if the people who make the village are not here..". Again, he would never say it with any bitterness but rather as a pain as most of us moved to bigger towns and cities for education and work and our visits back to the village became rarer and rarer. He would say it with understanding and empathy. He would be happy with the fact that some of us still have a lot of attachment to the village and do come back whenever we could. He was surely a big reason why we did so.



I heard from my father that he was unwell, but I was sure he would recover. His demeanor, his smile and his spirit used to always belie his age. When, a few days later, I heard that he is not recovering and rather has reduced his diet drastically, I began to worry a bit. I called up and even managed to speak to him. When he heard that I was recovering from COVID myself, he got very concerned and advised us to be cautious and take care. His concern for the well-being and health of others was the primary thought with him even in his last days. Badabapa was an active man; always doing something in the verandah or backyard and in these last days he must have been a bit restless, not being able to meet many people, travel, inquire about everyone due to the pandemic. I believe but he had done his bit. Left an ideal so high for us that it can never be emulated but only inspire us. He has lived his life to full and given so much. What hurts is that many of us could not be with him during his last journey due to this pandemic. While his body rests, quite rightly in the village, the heaven will be so much better a place now, that his soul has gone there; he will make sure it is !

My grandfather, my friend and spiritual companion

Aja (maternal grandfather) ! this is for you. 

My earliest memories go back to the small, idyllic and beautiful village Palli, which we used to refer as Aja Ghara. Whenever we used to visit Aja Ghara during holidays or any festivities it used to be such a noisy and yet joyous commotion. There would be Aja, his band of loyal servants and even other village folks to welcome us - usually 2-3 of Aja's six daughters, their husbands and their children! The commotion would only increase, servants would be out and climbing the tall coconut trees to get tender coconuts for all of us to drink, mother and her sisters would get busy in deciding the menu for lunch, dinner with the cooks and chatting among themselves and other folks gathered around. We children, mostly living in towns and cities, would grab the opportunity and run around in the large verandas, streets, gardens, small temple of the Divine Mother and coconut fields of Aja. There was also a small pond in Aja's backyard which contributes to the first story here. 

Rather than washing my feet near the well in the verandah, I took my younger sister and went to the pond to wash my limbs - in the lap of nature you see. I slipped and fell into the water. The water was deep and I was struggling for life. Thankfully, my sister rather than trying to help me, started shouting that "brother is drowning". Meanwhile, Aja and Maa, not finding us around the house, had already started to look for us. Hearing my sisters cries, they rushed to the pond and both jumped straight in and pulled me out. I was on the brink and while going up and down in the green water, I remember praying and visualising a picture of Lord Jagannath which was in Aja's room. The Lord did help in the form of my Aja, my mother and my sister who saved my life that day. I never learnt swimming; mother being terrified if ever I got near water and Aja was always extra watchful for the rest of my visits to Palli.    

After marriage and my even after birth, my mother spent quite some time at Aja's place and finished her training (B.Ed). Hence, I was part-raised by my adorable, loving and doting mausis (aunt). They keep telling me many stories which I save for another day; but each one of them had a name for me, which in turn was the name in which I called them. So, there was Kandura (which means a cry baby), Papabaya (the crazy Papu), Balunga (naughty one), Shandha (the bull).     

Then about giving. We always got such much from him. There would be elaborate preparations while we were about to go back to our homes. Aja would summon extra people and special sweetmeats, dishes would be prepared for us along with a big sac of coconuts, fruits and other gifts to take with us. In our homes, we would eagerly wait for Aja around the Savitri and Prathamasthami time to come with gifts, clothes and eatables for us. He would start from Palli and cover his daughters one by one, going to each daughter's place, staying for a few hours or overnights, giving the gifts and then moving on to the next one. He never missed to do this, until his health failed him towards the very end of his life. That he would do this on public transport, mostly bus and shared cabs/vehicles, in his old age and for six of his daughters was something we were thankful all the time. We would always pray - may god keep him healthy like this and he be able to travel and work independently.

Towards, his later years, he stayed at their townhouse in Jagatsighpur due to Aai's (grandmother) ill-health and the Super Cyclone and other cyclones, which ravaged their village. Born into a family of zamindars, Aja chose to work as a professor in a far-off town of Rairangpur, Baripada. This was not easy and he would stay away from family for most part of the year leaving the young children, his only son and daughters in the custody and care of Aai. Aai managed the household, affairs of the village, collected rents from leased out shops/homes and raised the children. Aja believed and told me often " I am only a custodian of all this (land and wealth), we don't know where it came from and why, so why get attached to all this..". "Simple living and high thinking" is my motto, he used to say.  

On to a more personal aspect of my relationship with Aja. His visits to our home had become more frequent during my graduation, when we were at Bhubaneswar, due to his may official matters relating to his pension and land records. I would immediately shift my base from my own room to the guest-room where he was staying. He would ask us to caress his chest or legs and start sharing stories, anecdotes and works from Odiya literature which he taught at the college. I was also his official pilot, getting him from one office to the other, visiting markets other people etc. But the best part was our visits to temples. Bhubaneswar being a city of thousand temples, there was never a shortages of temples to visit and re-visit. Mornings would be to Lingaraj temple, other temples in Old Town areas, evenings to ISCKON and Ram Mandir for aarti and darshan. And there were the trips to Puri. He and I would travel to Puri, do the customary darshan of Sri Jagannath, Bada Thakura and Maa at the temple and then proceed to Saraswat Sangha Ashram (of Shri Nigamananda Saraswati - who was Aja's guru) which was near the beach. We would usually have our lunch with the Ashram residents and school children. Then we would lie down and chat with the sanyasis of the Ashram. Aja would make a donation and then we would move towards the beach in the evening, before heading back to Bhubaneswar. On a few occasions, some of my friends had also accompanied us on these trips to Puri and enjoyed the company, stories and life of my Aja more than the fun at beach. 

In between all this Aja and I used to share and discuss all that we had read and understood about spiritualism, God and Man. I had begun to read the Complete Works of Vikeananda, my guru Shri Paramahansa Yogananda, Ramcharit manas, Shankaracharya and other masters and was happy to clarify my doubts from him. Aja would share insights from years of life spent as a seeker. He would also share his books with me to read. I remember some of his books, his underlinings and translations of difficult words vividly. He would share all this in the true spirit of empathy, never preaching or prescribing anything but understanding, appreciating my struggles and even sharing his very frankly. Again, the details of all these are very personal and detailed; would save them for another day. He would quote verses and passages from the rich Odiya literature, which I had unfortunately no exposure to, and explain them lucidly to me. We would discuss, debate, share points and counterpoints all the while in the spirit of true satsang or shashtarth. He was my first and true guru-bhai (spiritual companion). 

Aja, I miss you in more ways than one. 

Paava Kadhaigal, netflix movie - my review

A friend often teases me about my penchant for watching foreign ('esoteric' was his choice of word) language content (movies, series, documentaries) on one or the other OTT platforms. Netflix has been the preferred one for me and I have devoured on the usual suspects across Spanish, French, Swedish and Danish languages in addition to English and Hindi ones. However, I stumbled upon Paava Kadhaigal without neccesarily spurred on by a good review or 'Top 10/20' recommendations.  I did not even know what it meant and which South Indian language was it in. I definitely recommend this to you and don't worry there are no spoilers below that would 'give away the plotline'. 

With so many options available across so many platforms, we had agreed upon a loosely defined parameter of 'is there a grip?' for deciding to watch the whole series or film. Often, S would be the first to leave the series or film if it did not have the so called 'grip'. I would either agree or continue to finish it on my own. Paava Kadhaigal has a different kind of hold on you as a viewer. It is the hold of the land, which holds your hand like someone very familiar and close to you: someone from your family, from your neighbourhood, from your community, from your caste, from your religion, from your region and from your society. Yes, all of these associations are at the core of these four different stories woven together by ties of blood, fraternity and community. 

All the four directors and their teams do a sincere job and the production quality is rather good. The story tellers try to tell the story honestly and eke out the myriad human emotions, reactions, rationale and logic very well. The acting by most of the actors is believable. The background music and songs are excellent and so is the cinematography. 

If you have lived and traveled around India, you would be able to understand the stories, their settings and their contexts as something you have been an integral part of. You would have either seen, experienced or heard about the different conflicts that the stories bring out. You would have had an opinion about the same. You have either been a mute receiver of the traditions and belief system that was handed down to you by your family and community or you would have revolted in your way but you would have been affected nevertheless. Even if some of us might think that we ourselves have not had to face the kind of challenges and violence some of the protagonists face in the stories, we read about them in newspapers and see such stories on TV every now and then about honour killing, inter-caste and inter-religion marriages and their ugly fall-outs. There is also the moving and disturbing story about rape. Whether you have been an actor or a close witness to any or more of such issues is incidental. The conflict between the protagonists and their families about something as pivotal as love, marriage and spending life together, is relatable because all of us have had conflicts, resolved and unresolved with the people whom we love and care about the most. All of us have seen one or more of such relationships change from purest form of unselfish love to extreme bitterness, hatred and even physical violence. 

There are also strong characters and pillars of strength, positivity and hope as there are thankfully in life. The expressions of some of the strongest human feelings between mother and children, father and daughter, between sisters, among friends and lovers create an interesting roller-coster of emotions that would keep you in the 'grip' of the stories. I realised while writing this piece that the name literally means 'Stories of Sin'. Yes, if you look at the context of Indian culture, the word 'Sin' is appropriate. Only something as grave, unpardonable as 'Sin' necessitates such drastic reaction and violence of mind and action. Yet, 'sin' is usually something that has a method of 'repentance'; a particular way of undoing the harm that has been done by the person on himself/herself (mind you, the gender has significant importance here!) and the family and community at large. Only, who defines what is 'sin' and what is 'right' and with what reference points, becomes the moot issue. Unfortunately, in this series of stories the people who see and define 'sin' diametrically differently are people of the same family, separated often  by only a generation or outlook. 

Paava Kadhaigal. Strongly recommended. 

chacha aur 'new normal'

कोई ख़ास सामान नहीं होता था चाचा का, साइकिल पे एक रंग-बिरंगी धागों का डब्बा, दोपहर का खाना और पानी की एक खाली बोतल लेकर सुबह-सुबह चले आते थे।  दूकान या छत के नाम पर पीले रंग का एक तिकोना पॉलिथीन बिजली के खम्बे से बांधे हुए थे जिसके नीचे बैठकर चाचा अपनी सिलाई का काम करते थे। सिलाई का काम उनका इकलौता काम नहीं था।  पार्क के पास बैठने के कारण उनके कई और काम भी थे, मसलन - ड्राइवरों और डिलीवरी बॉयज को घरों के पते बताना, मेहमानों को गाड़ी पार्किंग करने की जगह बताना, म्युनिसिपेलिटी की गाड़ी को कचरे की दिशा में भेजना, छोटे बच्चों को डराते हुए गली के कुत्तों को डांटना, उन्हीं कुत्तों को फिर घरों से दिया हुआ खाना शाम को बांटना इत्यादि। इन कामों के लिए उन्हें कोई पारिश्रमिक नहीं मिलता था। 

चाचा छोटी-मोटी सिलाई-कढ़ाई का काम ही करते थे, जैसे पतलून लम्बी या छोटी करना, कमीज़ें ढीली या तंग करना, साढ़ी में फॉल लगाना, कपड़ों में  में रफू करना इत्यादि।  चाचा को किसीने पूरी-पूरी सूट सीलते हुए नहीं देखा, वो तमाम काम मैन मार्किट के टेलर लोगों का था जिनके पास बढ़िया दुकानें थीं और जहाँ पहुँचते ही चाय या ठंडा पुछा जाता था। चाचा के यहाँ ऐसी फ़िज़ूल चीज़ों का कोई प्रावधान नहीं था। मैन मार्किट के टेलर्स फाइन डाइन तो चाचा नुक्कड़ वाली चाइनीज़ फ़ास्ट फ़ूड। अब ऐसे छोटे-मोटे कामों के एवज़ में मिले पैसों से चाचा का घर परिवार कैसे चलता था ये अनुमान लगाना मुश्किल था। 

चाचा ने इस कॉलोनी को क्यों अपना कर्मक्षेत्र मान लिया था इसकी खबर भी किसी को नहीं थी।  चाचा कबसे उस कॉलोनी में बैठते हैं ये कोई ठीक से नहीं जानता था। किसी ने पुछा ही नहीं, सब को लगता था जैसे चाचा हमेशा से उस कॉलोनी के छोटे से पार्क का ही एक अभिन्न हिस्सा हैं। चाचा के पास हमेशा कॉलोनी का कोई न कोई होता या चाचा कहीं न कहीं होते। या तो वो लोगों का दिया हुआ सिलाई का काम करते थे या किसी रेड़ीवाले, कबाड़ी वाले या कामवाली बायीओं से सलाह मश्वरा करते हुए पाए जाते।  चाचा वैसे तो काम से काम रखने वाले थे और पूछने पर ही कुछ जानकारी देते थे पर कॉलोनी में सभी चाचा को मानते थे और कुछ नहीं तो गाडी के शीशे नीचे करके दुआ-सलाम कर निकल जाते। चाचा को चाय-पानी की कोई दिक्कत नहीं होती। पड़ोस के दो-चार घरों ने मानों चाचा को अपने चाय के साथ शामिल कर लिया था।  चाय के वक़्त कोई काम नहीं होता।  चाय के वक़्त सिर्फ चाय। 

चाचा के पीछे की पार्क की दीवार एक टेम्पररी स्टोर का काम करते थे।  अगर चाचा न बैठे हों तो किसी अपरिचित के लिए ये अनुमान लगाना मुश्किल हो जाता की यहाँ होता क्या है।  उस दीवार पर कभी एक दो कपडे टंगे होते, कभी कोई पार्सल, कभी सब्ज़ी की थैली, कभी दूध का एक पैकेट, एक झाड़ू, पानी की बोतल और रंग-बिरंगी धागों का डब्बा। असल में चाचा कई लोगों के लिए वो काम कर देते जो आम तौर पर पडोसी करते हैं, जैसे - उनका पार्सल या चिट्ठी रख लेना, उनके बच्चों पर पार्क में खेलते वक़्त नज़र रखना, किसी के घर कोई सामान पहुंचा देना इत्यादि। किसी त्यौहार के वक़्त चाचा ज़्यादा व्यस्त पाए जाते और ख़ास कर शादी-ब्याह के मामलों में चाचा के पास बाकी कामों के अलावा सिलाई का काम भी ज़्यादा होता। कॉलोनी के घरों और उनमे काम करने या काम ढूंढने वालों के बीच चाचा एक एहम कड़ी थे।  किसी को झाड़ू-पोंछा लगाने को कोई चाहिए तो किसीको खाना बनाने के लिए तो किसीको मालिश के लिए। कॉलोनी में नए आये हुए परिवारों के लिए तो इन मामलों में चाचा वरदान वरदान साबित होते।  फिर काम ढूंढने वालों के लिए भी चाचा एम्प्लॉयमेंट - एक्सचेंज का काम करते और सप्लाई तो डिमांड के साथ जोड़ते। लोकल पुलिस को भी कई बार चाचा के पास खड़े हो कर चाय की चुस्की लेते हुए लोगों ने देखा है।  

कोरोना महामारी के बाद लगाए गए लोखड़ौन के दिनों चाचा नज़र नहीं आये। लोखड़ौन के हटने के एक-दो हफ्ते के बाद भी चाचा नज़र नहीं आये।  नज़र आता तो सिर्फ चाचा का पीला पॉलिथीन जिसपर धीरे धीरे सूखे पत्तों का ढेर जमा हो गया था। चाचा को मोबाइल फ़ोन का इस्तेमाल करते किसी ने नहीं देखा था तो उनका हाल-चाल पता करना मुश्किल था और ये वक़्त भी ऐसा था के जब इंसान अपने और सिर्फ अपनों के बारे में ही सोच सकता था। संक्रमण के भय से अपनों को सहायता करना भी दूभर था। लोग घरों में रहने और कुछ न करने को वीरता, शौर्य और राष्ट्र-सेवा का कार्य बताते थे। हाँ कुछ लोगों को, जैसे डॉक्टर, नर्सेज, पुलिस वाले, सब्ज़ीवाले, डिलीवरी करने वाले, कचरे वाले,  एक नया ख़िताब मिल गया था - फ्रंट-लाइन वर्कर्स और समाज उन्हें कुछ ज़्यादा सम्मान के नज़रों से देखने लगा था और उन लोगों के लिए थाली-बर्तन पीटना, दिए जलाना और सोशल मीडिया पे मीम बनाने में व्यस्त हो गया था। पर अगर यही लोग कभी कोरोना से संक्रमित हो जाएं तो उनका सुपरहीरो स्टेटस छीन जाता और उन्हें कभी-कभी सामाजिक बहिस्कार का भी सामना करना पड़ता। 

तीन-चार हफ़्तों के बाद चाचा अपनी पॉलिथीन के छत को साफ़ करते दिखाई पड़े और बहुत संभल के अपनी मशीन फिट की और अपना रूटीन चालू करने के इंतज़ार में बैठ गए । पर अब काफी कुछ बदल चूका था। न चाचा के पास कोई सिलाई का काम होता था न ही बात करने को लोग। चाचा के बाकी काम भी लोगों के घरों में बंद रहने के कारण ख़त्म हो गए थे या बहुत कम हो गए थे।  सड़क पर गाड़ियां कम थी, लोग एक-दूसरे के घर भी कम आ-जा रहे थे।  त्यौहार भी बस नाम को त्यौहार रह गए थे।  चाचा घंटों खाली बैठे रहते या थोड़ा पार्क में चल लेते।  चाचा कभी कभी पार्क की बेंच पर बैठ कर चिड़ियों की आवाज़ सुनते और देओदार के पेड़ों में उन चिड़ियों की आवाज़ों और उनकी शक्लों को मिलाने का काम करते। अब पार्क में बच्चे भी खेलने नहीं आते, न ही दोपहर को सास और बहुओं की किट्टी होती और न ही बाइयों की यूनियन की मीटिंग। काम के तलाश में घुमते हुए कोई मज़दूर या दूसरे लोग कभी कभी उनके पास खड़े बात करते दिख पड़ते पर ऐसा अक्सर प्रतीत होता की बात आगे बढ़ी नहीं और वो लोग अपने रस्ते चले जाते और चाचा रह जाते अकेले। चाचा की चाय भी अब घरों से नहीं आती थी। चाचा अब पानी का भरा हुआ बोतल अपने साथ भर के लाते और खाली बोतल ले जाते।  चाचा को नहीं मालूम था की ये "न्यू नार्मल " है।  

एक दो हफ़्तों के बाद चाचा फिर दिखाई नहीं पड़े। हम अपनी बालकनी से रोज़ झांकते और सोचते की कहीं चाचा खुद तो कोरोना के चपेट में नहीं आ गए। पता करने का कोई तरीका भी नहीं था और न ही ये काम किसी के "अति आवश्यक " केटेगरी में आता था जैसा की कॉलर टुन की महिला बताती थी। चाचा की पॉलिथीन पर अब पत्तों का एक बहुत बड़ा ढेर जमा हो गया था और चाचा के पीछे वाली पार्क की दीवार बिलकुल खाली हो गयी थी। अब ऐसा लगता था की यहाँ पर कभी कुछ था ही नहीं। चाचा की स्टोरी सोशल मीडिया के लायक नहीं थी या कॉलोनी के लोगों ने कोशिश नहीं की पर चाचा अब कई महीनों से नहीं आये थे। ऐसा भी नहीं था की चाचा के नहीं आने से लोगों का कोई काम रुकता था । चाचा थे तो ठीक था, अब नहीं हैं तो ये भी ठीक है। 

लोग अपने-अपने तरीके से कोरोना की वजह से बने नए आर्थिक और सामाजिक समीकरण को समझ रहे थे और उसके अनुसार काम  कर रहे थे। सरकार चुनावी वायदे करने में लग गयी थी - हज़ारों करोड़ों रुपयों के रिलीफ पैकेज की घोषणायें हो रही थीं; बड़े पूंजीपति इसे बड़ा अवसर बता रहे थे और बड़े  निवेश, कंपनियों की खरीद-फरोक में लगे थे; अमीर और अमीर हो रहे थे, ग़रीब और ग़रीब। मीडिया ने पुलिस का काम करने का निर्णय कर लिया था और सोशल मीडिया और वेबिनारस के माध्यम से लोग बिना पूछे ही अपनी राय और ज्ञान देने में व्यस्त थे। सरकारी आंकड़ों के हिसाब से हर रोज़ अमूमन 1000-1200 लोग मर रहे थे और 60,000-70,000 लोग संक्रमित हो रहे थे; इसे रोकने का कोई ठोस उपाय या प्लान न सरकार के पास था न श्वास्थ एजेंसियों  के पास। बेरोज़गारी और मज़दूरों का कोई डाटा ही सरकार के पास नहीं था तो उनकी ज़िम्मेदारी से सरकार ने अपने को बरी कर दिया था। 

सब इस "न्यू नॉर्मल " के साथ एडजस्ट कर रहे थे।  शायद चाचा एडजस्ट नहीं कर पाए।  

based on real incidents and most likely (un)real facts !

The fall of life

Bijoy and Suchitra drove into a mall in an area where they first moved in after their marriage many years back. They now live in their own house, a big apartment, little far from the centre of the city, where they live a typical retired life. This was their first outing from house in a long time. Bioy’s bouts of high fevers had come and gone of its own for several months; undiagnosed by doctors but that affected Bijoy and Suchitra equally, physically and mentally. After so many years of togetherness they realised that whether it is a physical or mental pain one partner isn't affected alone; everything affects all.

Suchitra was pleasantly surprised that Bijoy agreed easily to her idea of stepping out of the house. Bijoy was actually keen to give Suchitra a reprieve from the routine of caregiving that had become their life - checking temperature, taking medicines, taking carefully prepared diets, visits to doctors and sitting for long hours together in which they would say nothing but understand everything. 

Bijoy wanted to drive the car and Suchitra agreed as she knew this would make him happy. Nostalgia filled Suchitra’s eyes as they saw young, newly wed couples in the mall. You could always tell them from others - excitement jumping in their eyes, a spruce in their steps, eager to set their homes, looking at different options, discussing colours, designs - ‘where it fit it the home’, ‘what needs to be bought next’, ‘what will go well with what’.

Many years back, they had done the same when Suchitra came to Delhi after their marriage and was busy setting up Bijoy’s one room ‘barsaati’. This energy continues even into the other rented houses they moved in, adding furniture, paintings, vases, kitchen items, glasses, cutlery and many many things collected over the years. They had always carefully thought about the things, chosen, selected and bought the things together. All the things in their home, truly belonged to both of them. They were more of memory aides - they would often slip into past, when Suchitra would be dusting or cleaning one of them and recall how they had bought or arranged for a thing, how they decided the design, where they got it from and how they or at least Suchitra bargained for the price. 

Suchitra was very happy to see a beautifully set up store with colour co-ordinated themes and aesthetically designed objects which were of liking to both's tastes. There were many objects of utility as well. She went from one floor to the other and came down, touching the objects, flipping some, looking at price tags, marvelling at them, commenting on the design, comparing sizes and keeping them back. Bijoy kept pace with Suchitra despite his weakness and nodded in agreement or remained silent in disapproval.
He finally muttered ‘You have inspected pretty much the entire store. Won’t you take anything?’
‘I feel we have everything. Don’t you?’ Suchitra looked up at him from the corner of her eye.
‘Yeah, I mean we may not have some of the new designs or patterns, but we more or less have everything we need’, Bijoy gave a wry smile.
‘Right, I just want this ‘peeler’. This should make the toughest part of cutting fruits for you in the morning easy.’ Suchitra smiled back.

As they drove back, Suchitra reflected upon their conversation and wondered if they really had everything they need!  Yes, one always has new desires and there many things you would have otherwise but they were more or less content. They had thought of many plans of either settling in some other city - there were debates about whether it should be a city near sea or in the mountains but there was nothing that created an aching or longing in them now. There was nothing missing. On the road, she saw a big tree that had lost all its leaves and was making a brilliant picture against the bright blue sky with its dry, white-grey branches spread out of a massive trunk. She wondered if this was the effect of fall or the tree had been like this forever.
After they came home, they had lunch and rested for a while in the afternoon. Bijoy suggested they go for a walk in the park. Now it was Suchitra’s turn to agree and she put out a nice cotton saree and a matching blouse to wear. Bijoy was putting on his kurta and pyjamas and remarked
‘We are only going to the park’
‘I know, but I haven’t worn this saree for ages and its not like we are going for a run or something. Why can't I put on a nice saree’ Suchitra replied.

'Yes, why not ! you certainly can.' Bijoy was happy.

The park was busier than usual. It seemed that the local residents had organised a small outdoor gathering. The kids were running around with their playthings, the womenfolk were busy chatting and taking out savouries from the beautiful picnic bags, the men were eating and playing cards. Bijoy and Suchitra were watching all of them sitting at a bench silently. There were a few dogs that slipped in and out of the bench next to them, there were a few birds chirping happily that they have come home, the sun was resting on the western horizon, taking a last look at this part of the world and blowing a farewell kiss towards everyone through the cool evening breeze.

Suchitra saw a gush of dry yellow leaves from a neem tree fall down next to where Bijoy was sitting. The leaves formed beautiful patterns while falling, rolling about their axis, aided by the mischievous breeze. The fall continued for a while. Suchitra thought about the trees and fall. It is their way of the old making way for the new. The trees shed away their leaves and flowers and fruit and become dry and lifeless during the fall. One may associate feeling of sadness and loss with it, but is it not a preparation for the new life, new leaves to blossom. This is the way with the trees - they remain constant with the source/fountain of life within them while changes continue on the surface - leaves fall, leaves grow again, flowers bloom, become fruits and the fruits are taken away; the cycle repeats.

Suchitra reflected on their lives and the morning visit to the mall; they have grown and accumulated many things, possessions, small and big. Maybe it is time for them to give away some of those things to people who may need it and utilise it more. After all, how many things do two old people need. Maybe that will make way for new experiences for them or a new life.

ऊम्र

Meri sufaid zulfon se meri umr ko ishaara mat de, 

Umr ka dhalna koi buri baat nahi.

Ke din dhalta hai, 

To suhaani shaam hoti hai aur,

Dhup me tape badan ko thoda aaraam,

Pareshaan man ko pursukoon, 

Aur aasmaan mein bhatakte panchii

Ko lautne ko ghar milta hai. 

Mera tazurba, meri jad-o-jehad,

Meri shikasht, meri fateh ki,

Kahaniyan kehti hain meri jhurriyan, 

Inhe budhape ki nishaani mat bata.  

Umr ka ek padav jab pura hota hai

To naye padav ki shuruaat hoti hai

Savere ka suraj

Tab ufak pe apni laali bikherta hai 

Jab raat sabse kaali hoti hai.   

Hey Ram

"ek bharoso, ek bal, ek aas-biswas;

ek ram-ghamshyam hit chaatak tulsidas."

I will start with my own personal association with the concept of Ram and some of my reactions to what is happening or rather what has been happening in Ram's name and also in my (and other Hindu's) name. My earliest memories are sweet, innocent, set in a small house, with my grandmother, in my ancestral village, next to Bhubaneswar. Ramayana - the story of Lord Ram was my first education and thankfully in my mother tongue Odiya which I learnt from my grandparents and parents. My grandmother and I used to sit together and go through this illustrated book with beautiful drawings of different events of the Lord's life and next to these pictures were rhyming couplets in large fonts, which are firmly imprinted in my memory. There was a similar book on Mahabharata too. I loved these stories and gulped them down with an eagerness only a kid of that age could have. My grandparents were very proud of my interest and most likely my memory of mythology. I remember on one occasion, my grandfather and his friends, well into their late sixties and seventies, could not resolve a contentious issue among them related to mythology - "who was the son of who" or "who was the wife or who" kind of stuff. These were days when Google wasn't there. I was called in proudly by my grandfather, to give my opinion on what I thought was the right answer till someone fetched a book to check the facts. No sooner had they finished the question and much before that gentleman could search the book I had given my verdict from my memory. So much for #rotelearning. I had no formal education in Odiya after that. Oh, I was correct by the way!

I revisited Ram and his story from different perspectives in school and in college. Delving a bit deeper into the aspects of his conduct as an ideal human being. Reading the works of saints and poets such as Valmiki, Tulsi, Kabir and others.  The concept of Lord Ram as the perfect man "maryada purushottam", an avatara with a definitive purpose to show human beings how to live and conduct them selves; whose acts, behaviour and character was held up high there for all of us to emulate. It was the ideal that one had to strive for and I was always an idealist. So, no matter how low and hard one fell from those standards; how far one was from those lofty goals and how many times one failed, those were the indisputable and perfect standards. One also read some alternative perspectives, especially about the Lord take some untruthful measures for attainment of truth like his killing of Bali in the battle with Sugriva, Mother Sita's test of purity by the fire and subsequent treatment of Lord's own children Lava and Kusha. But, mainstream perspectives are mainstream for the same reason always - they are the dominant majority (mark these two words). 

Anyway, the ideal remained where it should be and my life flowed with further studies, work, travel, relationships and experiences. I was not too particular about rituals, though I carried my set of Gods  (small pictures) wherever I travelled;  which was quite often in early days of my consulting carrier. That was the reason I always carried my shoes in a separate bag; something my colleagues often made fun of. I was reading a lot of books on spiritualism, duality, personal and impersonal God, God with form and without form etc. Ram remained a central figure though and whenever I prayed I did invoke shlokas and couplets from Ramcharitmanas. A sense of balance, a source of guidance when one was in doubt. "jehi vidhi rahe Ram, tehi vidhi rahiye" (do as the Lord would do!). Not that one always did. Sometimes the will wasn't strong enough, sometimes one gave into indolence and more often than not it was the temptations one could not resist. However, the deeper meanings of the stories and tales of Lord were revealed to me through my readings and I often visualised the peaceful image of Lord with Mother Sita, brothers and Hanuman for my attempts at chanting, praying and meditating. 

I made a visit to Ayodhya in 2008. It was a short, solo train trip from Lucknow and I so wanted to visit this place which was in the centre of such divisive politics, communal violence and controversy. I was vaguely aware of the Babri Masjid demolition, the physical act, the political agenda behind it and the violence it incited in the aftermath. The indecisiveness of courts, the continuous whipping up of the issue for political benefits and the stall mate throughout the subsequent years either made me ignore the matter for the sheer spectacle it had become or brought my focus to the more personal and spiritual side of my faith. By this time, I did not go to a holy place just to fulfil some rituals, pray for specific things, appreciate the architecture or location or have the prasad. It was all of the above but also seeking a deeper connection with all those seekers who have come to these places with so much faith, positive thoughts and devotion, ultimately seeking more insight and realisation for me. I have this habit of meandering a bit before coming to point. So, I went around the 'tourist spots' of the city such as Hanuman garhi, the ghats etc. It was extremely hot and humid and I could find solace and respite only when I had a stomach full of nice and simple food for lunch at 'Sita Rasoi'. 

As I moved to the site of 'Ram Lalla', it was natural to have a great sense of expectation build up, simply due to sheer amount of press, politics and power associated with this spot. Well, my first impression was that was of an army camp or a security fortress. There were so many layers of security and it was so rigorous that it was difficult to feel spiritual or religious at that time. It was not the crowds; that any average Indian is used to at famous temples and pilgrimage sites. The security at every check-point were alert, they did their job fastidiously and at some point we had to even deposit our wallet! This was serious now: since in most temples, you may not be allowed belts, leather watches but the priests always allowed the wallets and purses. You know why. 

Anyway, I made my way through, touched one after another bulky, brusque and smelly security personnel. I could count upto five of them and after that I was like "okay, whatever". I finally neared the sacred spot and no sooner had a chance to look at the idol, I was whisked away. Again, this is not new to an Indian, pilgrim who stands in long, serpentine lines to catch a glimpse of his beloved and revered diety. The wait, the anticipation, all add to the uniqueness and divineness of the moment he comes face to face with the Lord. He often sings, chants, concentrates during his wait, so that the wait and then the "darshan" are all a part of unbroken experience that he will cherish. It was difficult to do that here. With so many interruptions by the security and more importantly with your attention being more focussed on the site, the controversy, the socio-political and religious tension about the whole matter, it was difficult to concentrate on the Lord himself in the "sanctum sanctorum" of one's heart. I wrapped up my visit with some wonderful samosas, chai and other snacks before heading back to my hotel in Lucknow. 

I have often wondered ever since, would it not have been better if all the money that has been spent so far in litigations, propaganda, campaigns and all the money that will be spent in future on temple or mosque, would have been better spent on a large charitable hospital or school where people and children of all faith could come and benefit from the services of health and/or education. Lord Ram or Allah would not have been happier? But such arguments and logics have always been brushed aside by more serious sounding arguments in favour of defence spendings, building large statues, renaming roads, cities etc. "They are not the same thing" or worse "this is of national importance" is the retort one gets. As if affordable education and health are not. But who cares about such softer, non-populist and non-newsworthy initiatives/projects. So, my thoughts remained with me.  

Few years later, I travelled to the beautiful town of Orchha in the Bundelkhand region, where the Lord is not worshipped as much as God as the ruler of the place - Raja Ram. The government, the law and order and rules are all in the name of Lord - Raja Ram Sarkar !  A simple village woman sitting next to me on a beautiful evening while we were watching the sun go down between the black Chhatris (cenotaph) remarked "Sat nahin rehto bhaisaab, Ram kahan rahen", (there is no truth, where would Lord be!) when I asked if any of these small temples had the idol of Ram in it. I can not forget the truth in her eyes and words. I spent the rest of the evening in a beautiful aarti at the Raja Ram temple. 

The Supreme Court's final judgement on the matter came in 2019 and everyone said we will welcome the court's judgement. Frankly, what other option anyone had! The temple will be built by Government of India at the contested site of Ram Janmbhoomi by and an alternative site will be given to Sunni Waqf board for mosque. How this judgement completely abrogates the judgement of Allahabad high court, which in 2010 ordered the disputed site to be shared equally in three parts with 1/3rd each going to Ram Lalla represented by Hindu Mahasabha, the Waqf board and Nirmohi Amhara within a matter of nine years and in light of what new facts, evidence and witness and how new party i.e. the government of India comes into the picture, is something more learned and legally-well-versed friends would know. But the writing is on the wall - probably a wall built by bricks of some other wall which was brought down. 

Now, Supreme Court could decide upon things such as who had the land rights, who had the "papers", whether the Babri masjid was build upon a 'indigenous structure', whether the temple was built upon something else etc. But, it only went as far as calling the demolition of Babri masjid in 1992 "a violation of law". A ghastly incident which in it's aftermath claimed around 2000 lives at different locations in the country; both Muslims and Hindus. Should those who were responsible for the act that instigated so much communal violence and hatred not be brought to justice? Should there not be a closure to that indisputable act with this judgement? 

It is not as if there has not been enquiries into that aspect. There was Justice Liberian commission who found around 68 people clearly complicit including the senior most leaders of the BJP. The commission took 16 years and around 400 sittings to come to a report! How many more years are going to take for any action to be taken? Many of those were and some are still presiding over serious matters of our state - home affairs, defence, education etc. Isn't the absurdity obvious. 

Seems so far away from Ram or Ram Lalla isn't it. Who was Ram? The inimitable Kabir talks about four kinds of Ram: 

"ek Ram Dasrath ka beta, ek Ram ghat ghat mein baitha, 

Teeje Ram ka sakal pasara, chautha Ram sab se nyaara!"  

There is a Ram that we all know as son of king Dasarath, the husband of Sita, the brother of Lakshaman, father of Lav-Kush.  Would he want this piece of Land? He who did not think even twice before leaving his entire kingdom (this very Ayodhya), crown, comforts of palace and love of his citizen before venturing into the jungle to live a life of austerity and simplicity. Who travelled all through this land (all over India) you have places like Chitrakoot, Panchavati etc. with stories of Sita rasoi, sita-kund etc. and finally conquered the ten-headed Ravana with help of monkey-soilders. Raja Ram, who as king was so concerned about the apprehensions of a common citizen like a dhobi (washerman), even about someone as close and powerful as the Queen Mother Sita, that he ensured that his concerns are addressed. Would he have approved of getting any land like this? Much less something in his name? 

The second Ram, says Kabir is residing in every corner, every heart, every life. He is all-pervading, omnipresent and is not bound by the constraints of time and space. Someone like that could not be bothered with a particular piece of land, a temple or any architecture for that matter. What different does it make to him? 

The third Ram is the energy, is the light behind all living and non-living beings. From him come all, and he is at the atomic, sub-atomic level same with all things and all beings. He is present in all things at all time, changing, transforming from one form of energy to another. Even death or life, destruction or creation have no significance for him. Surely not for him. 

The fourth Ram, Kabir says, is different and special to everything else. He is beyond the experience of what we know thorough our ten senses, he is beyond the reach of words, poetry and imagination, he is inscrutable by intellect and rituals. So, I won't delve more into that as even the great Kabir simply leaves as " sabse nyaara", how do you describe a realisation to someone who don't have any comparable experiences to understand the same. This Ram would need a particular piece of land? Someone who is neither born, nor dead; who was there and who will be there always. What significant does a particular avatara's so called birth place have for him?

Okay, then comes the classic response. "Not for God. We stand for him. In his name! In his followers name". Now, I don't have to repeat how many millions of lives have been lost to countless wars and bloodbath we have seen in this world in the name of [ xx something YY]. So, I do not want to listen this was in my name - as a Hindu, as a devotee of Ram. I was not asked what I wanted. I rest my case.