3 idiots

Times of India very rarely gives a movie a rating of more than four stars and 3 idiots was rated at four and a half and the review concluded saying, “rush for it”. Indeed, we three idiots (myself, soli and fali) had tickets for first day first show (25th December) at liberty. It was after a decade that I was entering into delhi cinema theatre; the last one was taal at chanakya. soli was even careful in reserving the seats; first row of the balcony - ample of leg space and easy exit in case of any accident resembling uphaar theatre.

The film showcases the thought process previously explored in taarien zameen par and munnabhai. No similarity in the plots but both deal with frailties and strength of human. Issue of competition among kids is taken one step forward to that of getting a respectable engineering degree and shifting base to usa, possessing a big house and lamborghini. Truly, in today’s context, engineering degree is the passport to good job, wife and successful life. Commerce and arts graduates are labeled as outcaste. Engineering colleges mushrooming all over the country is a testimony of this attitude. The education system at aal levels leans towards the science stream i.e. if unable to get good % in 12th - opt for a commerce course, if unable to get engineering seat – go for commerce course and then opt for professional courses like C.A. etc. whereas commerce and arts students have no such option of choosing any science subjects.

The underlying point does not fail to strike a powerful chord at personal level. I am grateful that I was not forced into the science stream. Mom always wanted me to join the rat race of engineering. Surely, I would have secured my engineering degree from any college, secured a job and secured a wife by this time. I happily ended in joining a bigger competition group, that of lawyers, worked for free, got exploited and learnt a lot from my court sittings. An adage in this field is that a lawyer prospers when a prostitute considers her retirement. I did not miss the scene where maddy talks of life only being competition to gain credit cards and wife. Poignant dialogue! Both these necessary evils elude lawyers – bankers do not extend credit card to lawyers being litigious and father do not give away their girls for young lawyers lack money. A lawyer’s market is ever in recession. B.E. that as it may be!

But charity work for around 3 years and enjoying long court vacations did not went unnoticed. The family got into saamuhik mental balaatkaar. No occasion was lost in labeling me as non-enterprising and non-pushing. Thankfully, mom supported me through this bad patch. It was indeed a torturous quarter. Eventually I got through a consultant’s position in an american mnc with 25 K deal. Not a bad deal for me, from zilch to 25 K. The mental balatkaar was performed in order to attain some value in marriage market. How does a lawyer compete with computer software engineer who has done mba and is into investment banking and is earning hefty package? 25 K was raised to 40 K in next 10 months. Still no impact on my value in market. Girls were and are still after engineers, abroad or India. Again the family got ready to perform mental balaatkaar-“why don’t you ask for employee status?”. Down nine months, the approval came from usa and I am on rolls and I will be getting my credit card; so much fight. Some peace has dawned on family! What a rat-competition life! The song, “Give me another chance I wanna grow up once again, bachpan to gaya jawani bhi gaye, ek pal to hame jene do” captures the right emotion.


Back to the film! The jaddu ki jhappi is taken forward in the form of talismanic “aal izz well” to overcome human weakness and infuse optimism. 3 idiots, thus, is a nice blend of thoughts of two creative brains – aamir and hirani.

Excessive reliance on god and use of other charms as a solution provider has been denounced. The scene showing kids praying to god and bribing god on the result day like, “bus pass kara dey”, “bhagwan pass kara de, mein rani aur dmple ko apna behan manonga” and another promising to offer Rs. 100 daily was very enjoyable and forces one to go down the memory lane. I always looked to god for passing especially clearing my mathematics paper. Even first rankers like my cousins, who otherwise only paid lip service, used to visit temple and offer bribe. The song aal izz well captures this in lines, “agarbatti rakh ho gaye god to phir bhi dikha nahi”.

Though the spotlight is on aamir, the director has done full justice to the talents of maddy, sharman and the newcomer – omi vaidya. Right from style, xcuse me, rang de basanti, golmaal, life in a metro to 3 idiots, sharman has throughout put in credible performance. The pet of the director, boman, has put in fine performance as a crazy and genius professor-diction and einstein’s hairdo adding more to the performance. The newcomer, omi vaidya as the gas chamber was an instant hit with the audience. The deliberate south indian diction could not be missed and the speech with chamatkar replaced with balatkar and dhan with sthan was toooo good. It was good to see seasoned small screen artists like parikshit sahni and jayant kriplani chipping in. As usual, maddy has come up again with credible performance. The scene with javed jaffery involving his father’s urn was great.

And how can someone miss kareena; the audience went crazy on seeing her. The lip-lock scene of kareena and aamir elicited the biggest roar in the theatre. The lines, “jahanpana tussi great ho, tohfa to kabool karo” with pants down and a spank on ass was great. Cramming and book system has been ridiculed and the scene of farhanhite and prerajulative was thought provoking indeed. How many teachers dare to lean on creativity side in teaching the syllabus? My history teacher, praveen bhatnagar, belonged to this rare breed – came up with new methods to teach old history and presented us history in vivid colors. Amidst laugh riot scenes, came couple of melodramatic scenes – sharman crying in hospital and thanking aamir, sharman committing suicide, jayant kriplani hiring sharman and parikshit sahani giving go-ahead to maddy to pursue photography apprenticeship (this scene was very well appreciated by the audience).

The scene dealing with delivery of baby seemed to me too out of context. Also the electric current passing though chappal and shoe first appeared to me illogical, for rubber is an insulator. But obviously I missed the connecting point - salt water happens to be a conductor of electricity and in this case it was during the mutra visarjan process. And kareena marrying her fiancé after 10 years was too much. But no complaints, the story is dil-logical and seeks to send across couple of right social messages and above aal takes the audience into recap mode.

Udaipur - Day One

“Family Trip-once a year” could not take off in 2008 due to various factors, prime factor being repeated terror attacks. Mumbai was also on our list but the plan was abandoned and again Rajasthan, owing to its proximity, became our destination. We had missed udaipur in 2006 and so udaipur it was this time. Bala consulted the tourist bible “Lonely Planet” and framed a suitable and flexible itinerary from 19th to 22 february.

However, owing to folks getting sick, we were never sure as to whether tour would take off and no official word came from my doctor aunt approving the tour. Bala and I presumed that silence is acceptance. The official word came on the 17th, a day before we were to board the train, that we were indeed going. Grandma was entrusted to the care of my Uncles. The mewar express connected delhi and udaipur. I descended at the station from my office and others came in batches.

The train was shunted in at platform no. 7 and I and my mom first boarded the compartment and pushed the luggage comfortably. The rest trudged in and my doctor aunt heaved a sign of relief and said, “finally we have made it”. Some chit-chat continued regarding my job offer at mumbai which certainly put my mind off. I postponed the issue and me and bala sat down, armed with lonely planet, to finalize the itinerary as mewar express rolled out 15 minutes late. My mom also a had a book which listed many other places near udaipur and emerged lord Srinath of nathdwara and suddenly the tour became a temple tour. Me and bala debated chittorgarh versus jaisamand and left the issue undecided. Meanwhile another issue cropped up; bala had arranged for car at Rs. 1100/- per day using some jugaad and my doctor aunt debated on the merits of availing the car on all the days. Rs. 1100/- was very cheap and it was decided to avail the car. Things finally settled and temples were earmarked for the day one. One obstacle remained to be met; the ticket checker. Not that we were ticket-less but bala, to get lower berth, had made up my dad’s age 60 instead of 58. And my dad was in full mood to blurt out the truth and pay the difference amount. One thing that worked to our advantage was that our seats were split, three at one end of the coach and three at the other end. However, the tt did not even went into the details and contended himself by checking the id of bala.

Folks went on tea-drinking spree and I learnt that dinner would be served. My mom had made pooris, chapattis and tomato chutney and my aunt had packed curd rice. And I received a dose from my mom for informing her earlier that there was no pantry car. Anyways, we gobbled down the food. Mathura peda was served for sweet and then the prasadam followed in the form of various medicines for cold and cough. Seat allotment followed; I am sure the political parties do it quicker.

Bala and me settled at his upper berth for some chit-chat. And it was a long chit-chat till 1 am. We went down our memory lane; 2008 trips, 2006 trip of rajasthan and 2007 trip of maharashtra. And then we touched upon the topic of marriage, arranged marriage vis-à-vis love, scarcity of iyengar girls, how and where to find them in delhi, how to decide whether she is the one, time frame required to find out. Apparently bala is at number three, listed behind aswin and myself. But given aswin’s struggle, bala is a confused lot. Both aswin and bala want to spend some time to assess as to whether the girl being selected is the right one which time is not given in typical iyengarish encounter; once you are comfortable with education, family background, horrors matching and of course the appearance (which comes first in the list), then follows brief chit-chat and then the doom’s day. We debated objective and subjective criteria. A lot more was discussed…about his dream girl qualities-elegant like ‘Rock On’ heroine prachi desai, yet simple again like prachi…and yet be a trophy wife and intelligent as well.

The train arrived at udaipur almost 1 hour late. We hopped down and gunned for the kapi (coffee). Folks caw cawing for coffee was going to be a highlight. The marshall jeep was waiting for us with its driver roshan. Cutting across small by-lanes, we arrived at our hotel dreams heaven (courtesy lonely planet). Narrow and maze of stairs and arrows greeted us and we slowly trekked up to the roof-top to have our breakfast and another round of coffee. The roof-top offered us a great view of the lake or rather the dirty water and row of buildings. We were the only Indian population at the roof-top as I gazed at cigarette smoking firangs. My mon soon found out that the kitchen was not total vegetarian and the elders had the paranthas with some reservation and decided not to have breakfast at the roof-top. The rooms were allotted and we had our bath and trudged out.

A quick photo session with the marshall and we were on our way to nathdwara which is around 50 kms from udaipur. The first stop was the jain temple of shantinath (adbhutji mandir). A few steps and we had a quick darshan of the deity and did a quick photo shoot. The next stop was the saas bahu mandir, a five minutes drive from jain temple. This was supposed to be a vishnu temple, however, there were no deities in the sanctum and all that remained was the beautiful structure. The next stop was ekling ji-shiva temple. We had a very good darshan and the temple complex also has more than 100 deties. The next stop was nathdwara. We reached there around 3 pm and decided to have our lunch first. We chose lakshmi vilas, a small hotel and gunned for idlis and dosas. Then followed a round of coffee, chai for bala and I gladly skipped this session. Around 3:45 we were left in through the main gate and soon we were approached by touts for special darshan. We had to stand amidst unorganized mob and as soon as the doors opened, the crowd went berserk and we were swept into the main room where we had darshan of lord srinath. It was more of pushing and jostling inside amidst chants of srinath. We were keen to get away from the maddening crowd and we succeeded in getting away only after we received more incoming pushes. At another section, the priest dressed in parsee fashion administered a towel beatings to the devotees; a practice alien to hindu sect. I was not impressed with the crowd management and at a different level, I was not satisfied with the visit when I compare the ambience of the temple with srirangam. The temple structure in no way resembled a typical hindu structure; the color scheme, paintings, drawings depicting English soldiers etc. only suggests parsee/Iranian influence. Story goes that lord srinath was brought over to this place from mathura fearing persecution at the hands of aurangzeb. It seems sanctuary to the lord was given by some parsee/iranian so as to not to attract the moguls attention and thus practices from different culture have merged in daily worship scheme. I see no harm in this but in the end the crowd management put me off. A google search shows that pushthimarga sampradaya established by jagatguru vallabhacharya is followed. Subsequently my mom informed me that deity being kutti krishnar (Krishna as a child), the gates opened and closed every 15 minutes.


(At nathdwara)

(At saas bahu temple)

(At saas bahu temple)

(At jain temple)

With this, the temple section was over and we set out to haldighati where the battle between akbar’s force lead by man singh and rana pratap assisted by hakim khan took place. Chetak, the horse of maha rana emerged as the warrior since chetak, grievously injured, managed to save rana pratap by covering over 5 kms distance and jumping over a canal/river. Eventually the horse died and rana pratap moved by chetak’s courage resolved to lead simple life. The narrow road to haldighati is very picturesque, with ups and downs. Ours was the sole vehicle traveling on the road and even at the haldighati museum, there were few Indian tourists. Sound and light show and a small documentary on rana pratap was shown. Definitely a place to be. More about the war, click http://www.indhistory.com/haldighati.html


(At haldighati)
(At haldighati)



From haldighati, we dashed back to udaipur’s bagore ki haveli just in time for cultural dance named darohar (one hour program) showcasing different rajasthani dances like ghoomer etc. The best was the puppet show. The audience consisted of mainly foreigners. While showing the pics at home, my doctor aunt pulled our legs saying, “where are the dance pics? Both of you had gone to the front row to shoot the video. I know you had gone to sit besides the foreign female.” I answered back, “oh come on! She was an old lady. The best were on the opposite side.” Truly I saw some pretty faces in different attires. But the best was to come …

As far as dinner was concerned, combination of sickness, weariness, eating joints based at roof-tops catering non-veg too and use of mustard oil made us order rice and curd. Being a typical curd-rice case, I ought not to complain.

Patna – gandhi setu & dolphin

We wrapped up the arbitration proceeding within couple of hours and I was on my way to the gandhi setu linking patna and hajipur over river ganges. A shared auto dropped me at the site. The bridge, around 5.6 kms was considered as longest bridge in the world over a river. After ten minutes of gazing and clicking, I had the chance of spotting the fast disappearing gangetic dolphin (Platanista gangetica). Only last month the gangetic dolphin was declared as national aquatic animal in the first meeting of National Ganga River Basin Authority since a cleaner ganga will ensure return of the species. I had around seven to eight spotting of the dolphin, which I could not capture in my camera owing to battery failure. Folks in patna had told me that dolphins are myth and I was indeed lucky to spot them but luck deserted me when it came to capture them through the camera lens. Indeed we humans as a race are greedy, all the time seeking to capture but nature humbles us and I returned to my hotel with dolphins etched in my mind.

Domestic fights and mahabharata

Rajaji’s mahabharata happens to be mine favorite read. My first exposure to the mega story was through b.r. chopra’s efforts and the characters left an indelible impression upon me. Nitish bharadwaj as krishna and mukesh khanna as bhisma definitely stood out in terms of screen presence and acting.

Rajaji’s version was gifted to my mother by a friend of hers and since then I have devoured the book, wholly and selectively, many a times. In its 328 pages lies several unknown and untold stories overlapping the main story; all written in a neat and concise manner. The epic has everything to offer, from morality to lust and victory of good over bad, masala for successful cinema. I wonder if the film industry has adopted the story in parts. No wonder someone is thinking of taking the story to multiplexes – to be released in two parts. I can go endlessly…. about the characters, my favorites, the truelies, etc. But I refrain from doing so for I have a short tale to tell in which rajaji’s mahabharata plays a muted role.

Like every grandmother, my aunt was summoned for IAS duty by my cousin to amerigo. No prizes for guessing – I.A.S. stands for Indian Aaya Service. This was not her first stint. We camped at her house to help her pack things; my dad’s quite an expert in bundling things especially spices and other food items. Just before leaving she instructed me, “just send rajaji’s ramayana and mahabharata through another cousin. I would like to narrate the stories to the kids there” and I promised to do so and did so. The books also followed her and I assumed that the kids would be enjoying the story telling for my aunt is a great story teller, has a fertile brain to add mirch and masalas and expressions and gesticulations lend credibility to the story.

The six-month imprisonment ended and she flew back to India. In the monthly family head-rolling meeting, on enquiry, she revealed that the kids evinced no interest in mahabharta for they were only interested in trucks and other concrete things. “Oh!”, she lamented, “I have left the mahabharata there itself”. I asked, “so what? P may narrate the story”. She gave her infectious smiles and said, “I will tell you the main story now….”. A short and hilarious story followed.

Each family has its own idiosyncrasy, a kind of unwritten code; in mine, motor bikes are not allowed for my grandpa’s brother rebelled against him, bought a bike and sent him a picture posing next to the bike and he eventually perished while trying to jump over railway crossing rope. In D athimber’s family prevails a comic code; mere possession of rajaji’s mahabharata is seen as the reason for domestic quarrel between the spouses. Apparently they had one rajaji’s mahabharata earlier too at their home and like any couple, they fought hard. Then someone advised them to dispose off the book as it had the tendency to provoke fights between spouses. They tried hard, D athimber even tried to pass on the book to his elder brother, but he being aware of the ill-effect refused. And finally the book was handed over to his parents and it now lies amidst cobwebs and dust.

And some peace prevailed or perhaps a mirage until the books sent by me reached them. And my aunt bemoaned, “Oh! I have left the book there. I had promised them that I would bring the book with me…”. And I could sense guilt in her voice.

lal bahadur shastri

As I flipped the pages of times of india, tribute to gandhi repeatedly greeted me everywhere and in one corner of the page I saw tribute to lal bahadur shahtri and I came to know that 2nd october also happens to be the birthday of shastri. Even the politicians were shown visiting raj ghat and not vijay ghat; gandhi literally eclipsed shashtri. But I was glad to watch a documentray on shahstri in dd national.

Why shastri’s tenure as prime minister for about 20 months stands out? Shastri was able to bring about a sense of unity amongst the country men, face and lead successfully through the pakistan war and pave way for green and white revolution.

The syndicate led by kamaraj chose shastri over moraji sensing shastri to be rather timid and pliant; puppet government was the idea. However, the new incumbent amongst other initiatives dropped moraji form the cabinet and gave indira the useless information & broadcasting portfolio and the latter avenged by barring shastri entry into teen murti by having it declared as memorial to nehru. Indeed, delhi houses many such memorials!

The kutch conflict with pakistan served as an eye-opener to the shastri government and operation gibraltar and grand slam by pakistan to capture j&k and akhnur bridge were successfully thwarted. Here, shastri scored over nehru for sharsti was decisive and took full measures to see India emerge as victorious. Shashtri came out with the famous slogan, “jai jawan, jai kisan”, recognising the contributions of soldier and farmers.

Concerned about the food and drought situation, shastri appointed an able administrator, c.subramanium as minister for food and agriculture and thus came along high yielding varieties of seeds, application of fertilizers and attainment of self-sufficiency in food grains.

Many would have doubted shastri’s ability to run the country and the nehru’s long rule brought in the comparison factor. I am sure if shastri had continued for another term, india would have progressed leaps and bounds in each field for he was a statesman and not a run on the mill politician who is ever hungry for kursee. The resignation over the ariyalur rail accident by shastri speaks about the morality of the man and indeed, “only morality in our actions can give beauty and dignity to life” – Einstein.

eid and kawar

This piece was written last year.

Grudgingly I left for my office on 9th December for it ought to have been a holiday since it was Eid. It is high time that holidays for festivals and jayanthis be brought under the purview of fundamental rights. Reduction in human and vehicular traffic could be noticed but Gurgaon, being infested by mnc’s, was as usual. Lap one of my journey was as usual spent listening to chants and dozing off. In the lap 2, which is in the rickety dtc, I again tried to sleep for speeding qualis, sedan’s carrying air-hostess’s and planes touching the tarmac no longer motivate me to gaze outside the window. Lap 3 is where I encountered the rush and jam. From the jam-packed auto I could see vehicles being shooed away from the NH into the service lane. “Wow! The NH is being cleared for some poli-tic-ian and his cavalcade”, I thought and started cursing the whole breed; the breed which barges in uninvited and whines when shooed away. The autowallah asked us to disembark midway. A few paces took me to a constable and on enquiry I came to know that traffic had been stopped for Eid celebration. Nonplussed, I carried on further and I could see a slice of the truth. Soon beggars greeted me and kids pressed into me, few more paces I could see the side-lane near to the local mosque being fully occupied by men wearing white kufie caps, settled on mats, row after row. I soon reached the end of the fly-over and a peep revealed that the gradient (both sides) was occupied by battalion of men in their kufie; all set to offer special prayers.

Why, when, where and many question about this festival can be found out using google. This link http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eid_ul-Fitr also provides some information as to how Eid is celebrated worldwide. I had always wanted to visit jama masjid and capture the praying shot. And here I was before a much larger gathering, filling 2 service lanes and the rajeev chowk flyover. I missed my digital camera but nevertheless the phone came handy. A voice crackled through the loudspeaker foisted over the lamp post and went on lecturing about Islam, its meaning, worldwide status of muslims, education and dereliction to offer namaz as kids with begging bowls played on the NH and beggars lay revealing doctored wounds.

Traffic had been completely stopped, from which point, I do not know. But there would have been a huge pile up for the whole affair lasted from 8:30 to 11 am. And no attempt was being made to hasten up the process. Police stood by doing what they do the best chatting and yielding their sticks. The sermon dragged on and the actual namaz lasted only for 10 minutes; a visual treat, how the men bend and raise in unison calling allahu akbar. The assembling, lecture and dispersal took more time than the prayer.

I was waiting anxiously with couple of bhelpuri wallas for the finale. I wanted to see men hugging and wishing eid mubarak which is called musafa (I think) just as in bollywood films. However to my disappointment, I could only see couple of hugs and the men started walking back to their homes as the preacher repeatedly pleaded for musafas. And I too slowly walked back to the auto stand and reached office at 11:30.

This year too traffic was stopped on the national highway for atleast 3 hours and one can imagine the pile up of traffic. Luckily, I reached only an hour late. And this time the times of india carried an amazing pic of namazis occupying the entire rajiv chowk flyover with comments on resulting traffic jams.

Yet another kind of fanaticism is seen when kawarias throng on the road and the state governments make special arrangements for them, reserving a part of the lane for their smooth travel and also closing the highway leading to haridwar and offices. Often, these kawarias indulge in wanton destruction of vehicles and sorrounding fields if per chance a kawarian is killed or water carried by him is spilled. A new variant is also seen these days, the relay kawari, kawaris in bikes and trucks, each runing with ganga for certain distance with loud music. More hooliganism and traffic is seen. It has become more of a show business rather than professing of faith.

Unfortunately, vote politics and appeasement policy has lead to pampering of such practices. Decades ago, when gandhi supported the khilafat agitation, jinnah had warned, "that it was crime to mix up politics and religion..". Wise words...anybody listening?

To Patna

“abey bihari” – happen to be the starters for the ensuing tantrums for most delhites if a cyclewallah or rickshawallay or autowallah whimsically changes lane or refuses to budge on delhi roads. The “me mumbaikar” campaign targeted biharis working in mumbai – the doodhwallah and taxiwallah and there was huge hue and cry in media. This spite against non-mumbaikars runs deep in the sena family. Back in lack 60’s the cartoonist’s party had raised tirade against the madrasis, again on the same ground that madrasis were usurping jobs in then bombay. Quite an insecure lots these senas! I have always found folks hailing from bihar to be honest and hardworking (interactions with delhi autowallahs). Most of them have lands in bihar and family cultivates the land while they are busy here. In two to three cases, son or brother was in software company or was preparing for ias exam. Each was of the opinion that politicians had ruined the state. Indeed an austere looking man had swallowed crores of simple fodder and more austere looking wife ran the show. The man (jayaprakash narayan) who had started the bihar movement to fight corruption and mis-governance would have hung himself out of shame seeing bihar’s condition.

Students from bihar folk to delhi university dreaming to clear the ias examination. They do not stop at ias examination but also appear in bank po exam and various military exams. One of my batch mate at law fac, rahul mishra, had managed to clear crpf exam and was mighty pleased with his performance; for now he had a value in bihar marriage market which could off-set the dowry given in his sisters marriage. Unfortunately, while returning from drinks party late night, he got killed in a car accident.

It was a one day trip to patna – the land of lallu, the land of biharis. Although I had a very limited time on hand, I was all-eager to explore the place. I reached new delhi railway station well before time and I was glad for reaching early. It rained cats and dogs and I feared that train would be cancelled. Later on I came to know that the rain had severely damaged roofing work at delhi airport. I was on platform 16-newly added platform and just next to vip parking. Soon a strange thing caught my eye; folks were queuing up next to a thick rope stretching across 3 pillars under the supervision of delhi police and soon the line went long. Discipline and delhi are like banks of a river; I enquired from the policeman on duty and came to know that the line was for getting into the unreserved compartment. Indeed, some reforms introduced. I again saw a similar line further ahead, just around ac 2-tier compartment.

The sampoornakranti arrived and I boarded my compartment; the rainwater had seeped in and had formed tributary and distributaries. Just as I settled, came up a chap and informed me that the said seat had been allotted to him. I calmly said, “we’ll clear when the checker comes” but I was ruffled at the thought of being pushed to 3-tier. This usually happens to folks traveling in ac first, in order to accommodate some influential. But, being a patna bound train, I did not rule out “pulling out strings” for ac two seat. I rushed out to see the chart and my name was there. I saw the checker standing and enquired with him and he informed me that I had been upgraded to ac one compartment free of cost. I was elated; I always wanted to travel first class ac and here was I by sheer chance in a coupe and the second chap never showed up. I enjoyed the setting sun from the tinted glass along with lays chips. Throughout the journey, peculiar stations showed up prefixed with ‘halts’ like v.v.giri halt and google later showed me that these were illegal stations built by villagers and they also forced the trains to halt there.

The train was late by couple of hours and the minute I stepped out of the station, a panditji with holy water greeted me and asked for “shani ka daan”, it being Saturday and I was amused. Only steel cans decked with black cloth do the rounds in delhi on Saturday with the slogan, “shani ka daan, maha kalyan”. I checked in and had my lunch around 11’ish. I took rickshaw to reach my destination and around 1 I wrapped up the briefing session with the advocate. I had couple of hours before the meeting with judge and I had plans to visit the ghol ghar and ganga ghat. 15 minutes of rickshaw travel took me to the ghol ghar which used to be a granary. A series of small steep steps reveals river ganga, patna city and patna-hajipur gandhi setu. I, in my enthusiasm, climbed the steps too fast and when I reached the top, my head spinned and I went out of breath. Before I collapsed, I managed to click couple of shots of river ganga. It was only after five to seven minutes that I regained my form with my possessions intact. I had to shelve the visit to ganga visit for the while and went back to my hotel for a glass of fresh lime water.

I had couple of hours after the arbitration matter

(Patna Railway Station)

and roamed around the gandhi maidan area clicking the nalanda university building and various statues. Thankfully, the return journey was all smooth and rajdhani arrived almost on time. Although, dad had warned me not to venture to take photos standing besides the door, the approaching yamuna bridge provoked me to do so and I clicked some photos of river yamuna with humanyun’s tomb and the shanti stupa in the background.

bigamy

All these year I foolishly entertained the notion that muslim men indulged in bigamy for they have the backing of their personal law. The muslim personal law allows men to have more than one wife only during war time or women out-numbering men. I was taken aback when I read sunday toi that hindu men accounted for 5.8% of all bigamous marriage while muslim men accounted for only 5.6%. Now, it needs no explanation as to who is in majority. I received further shock when I read that this practice is higher in south india's hindu upper class.

The problem rises above religion and thus, need not be given religious shade but is of "male-dominance" and this underlying motive has moulded the interpretation of our scriptures and side-lined women by labelling her as 'naari' i.e. "do not try your hand at anything". Having said this, polyandry is also noticed in our social fabric and so is 'swinging'. Viewing from male and female perspective, the question is of morality versus individual freedom and add the concept of live-in relationship.

Eventually these things may work fine socially but when law steps in, the effect would be pinching.

Poli-tic-ians, tigers and snakes

The news channels showed jairam ramesh, minister of state for environment and forest holding a python during the inauguration of the snake interpretation centre at the vanvihar national park in bhopal on saturday and other officials donning the role of a ‘sapera’, displaying snakes as if they had given birth to reptiles. The usual clamor followed of violation of some wildlife act. Funnily and sadly, it was the same jairam ramesh who announced that committee would look into acts of balasaheb throat, maharashtra agricultural minister, who had entered a tiger cage and caressed and patted a cub. Of course, the committee would have sat over and gulped chais and samosas and closed the affair. Of course, ‘politicians’ cannot survive in society but by reciprocal concessions (to modify johnson’s quote).

More comic was the defence presented by digvijay singh to save throat; interpreting the provisions of wildlife act, diggy raja pleaded that, “patting is not molestation”. k.p.s gill should have known the potentials of diggy raja and hired him as defence counsel in bajaj case.

Teachers

School is not preparation for life, but school is life – John Dewey…sadly I concur with his quote when Iam just couple of years away from my 30’s. The average human mind is always yearning for "what next?” instead of enjoying the present and thus I used of dream of ‘college days’ in school and ‘of earning money’ in college and so on ‘life’ goes on…

Each year as the “teacher’s day” rolls by, I do a memory jog of teachers I have encountered and their effect on me and before I reach a stage where my memory goes corrupt, I thought of putting this piece.

Already I have lost memory files for 1st to 5th class comfortably spent in a rather small school. All I can recollect is stern ms. chaya singh for social, ms. indu for science and affectionate mrs. talwar. For 6th onwards, I moved to a ‘big’ school whose prospectus promised a swimming pool, the kids have only seen monsoon pools. With change in school and friends, my marks plummeted like bse only to rise during the finals. Amidst my alternating current marks graph, flocked in and out various teachers.

Math was my nemeses and so were the teachers. The first teacher was a stout, chubby and cheerful vandana dayal who later went to Bangalore. She was one teacher who always wanted us to be ahead of the other sections. Next one was ms. saraswati kulkarni and I always entertained the thought that she was a south Indian married to a kulkarni due to her good English and more stress on ‘is’ which went ‘iiiiiisssss’; thankfully it was not ‘hisss’. Mr. vijay taught us the Xth course and I must acknowledge that he, realizing my phobia for the subject, took special interest in me, brought me to the first bench and taught me. And then came the disciplinarian mr. sunil saxena (head of disciplinary committee) with funny English accent “hey! You over there” (trying to ape english actors). Vectors, differentiation, derivatives, integrals, differential equations, 3D geometry, lp, probability appeared like douglas jardine’s bodyline series. I finished my 12th math paper in one and a half hours flat and spent the rest of the time staring at my friends who were working furiously. I had this gut feeling that I would flunk for sure but to my surpise I fell 3 short of my glorious half-century. The credit obviously does not go to mr. saxena who only knew to shout and slap kids.

Hindi was taught by mrs. rupam, another strict teacher who once pounced my hair for not producing the homework copy. I had never maintained any homework copy for hindi and came up with a new copy for each homework. Thankfully, I opted for sanskrit in ninth.

The school had good English teachers and in particular mrs. rohini jakati, ms. padmaja, ms. amita and mrs. sahai . All of them had a cheerful disposition and truly enjoyed teaching. I am indeed indebted to mrs. jakati for she had kind words to say about me in parent-teachers meeting despite my flunking in social science and maths (this was in 6th). She explained to the class the difference between ‘can I’ and ‘may I’. There was this youngish teacher, whose name I cannot re-collect, who used to chew bubble gum while teaching. Overall, English teachers were cool. One particular incident I must refer to; unhappy with my marks, I had tore my answer sheet. My select friends followed my act. mrs. sahai soon called each student for bonus 3 marks and she was pleasantly surprised to see torn sheets and said that she would be keeping them as mementos.

The science stream teachers were mrs. prema swaminathan, mrs. archana trishal, mrs. ram rakhyani, ms. prabha. Mrs. swaminathan and ms. prabha were the best of the lots. Also there was a male teacher for physics who always used to circle the girls side, perhaps trying to improve his chemistry.

Social science as a subject interested me and ms. praveena bhatnagar was largely responsible for inculcating interest and love for history. She was very meticulous about correcting home-works and each copy was returned with pages full with red corrections. She not only suggested answers but also framed sentences. She deprecated the practice of copying and described this as “licking another’s vomit”. Our class protested and cried when another teacher was appointed as our class teacher in her place and we pooled in money and gifted her some imitation (this was in class Xth). I must thank her for lucidly explaining the world wars and contemporary history especially the concept of “tunnel vision” associated with world war. The love for history still survives in me and I continue to read on. There was another history teacher, ms. sapna singh, who taught us in 6th or 7th class.

Sanskrit was never my forte and this was another subject wherein I used to pass only in my final exam. Two teachers were very good – mrs. rekha kapoor and mrs. suman sharma. The third one from gorakhpur – mrs. savita srivastav was a misfit. Her dressing sense exhibited “matching concept”; if pink was the saree, so would be the color of her lip-stick and her sandals. In the end, utterance of “suuar ke bachon” (swine's kids) undid her.

Mrs. naveen bhalla was our accounts and business teacher for 11th and 12th class. She was also our class teacher. She came out as a very good teacher and gave her 100% to explain us various book entries. The accounts class indeed turned out to be a chaotic one and we really enjoyed. She was also creative in manging students - she made dull boys sit with the intelligent ones and for a change I was recognized as an intelligent one. I was one of the “lord of last benches” and mrs. bhalla tried hard to re-settle our group, implemented desk-rotation but we flagrantly disobeyed and remained rooted to the last bench. She gave us a sense of liberty which we were to enjoy in college and in that sense her handling of class 12th assumes importance. Sadly, she too left the school after one year of our leaving.

Economics syllabus was interesting, especially in 12th and mr. shaji george was newly appointed to teach us the subject. His class was funny because of his typical malayalee english accent. He soon busied himself in teaching us graduation level economics. He only used to dictate his notes which I used scribble like a madman so that I could not read it afterwards. Tired of dictating, he delegated to a girl who used to record in tape so that students could hear them in walkman.
The miscellaneous teachers happened to be our games teaches – mr. negi and d.k.bose. mr. negi was quite popular among students for his antics during the prayer session. ‘D.k.bose’ was simply altered to a hindi tantrum. The music teacher was mr. manish khullar and I still remember his tight slap during bongo practice. He used to claim that he was the hummer in parachute ad. And then there was this bald yoga teacher, mr. zutchi. I had never seen him teaching yoga and he used to pounce upon hair of students, perhaps due to inferiority complex. I have only a faint memory of computer teacher, a fair and youngish (perhaps Bengali) teacher. Electronics which came in “some useful period wasted (supw)” was taught by a sardarji who used to loose his cool during afternoons, no offence intended.

I still abhor my big school structure but I still remember couple of teachers with sense of gratitude.

the frog and the nightingale

The English syllabus upto class 10th is always peppered with boring poems but I enjoyed Vikram Seth’s “The frog and the nightingale” the most for its comic tone. But poems are forgotten as soon as the exams are over. However this particular poem hit me when I heard it being enacted at my neighbors house, a self-professed Carnatic music teacher.

“Once upon a time a frog
Croaked away in Bingle Bog
Every night from dusk to dawn
He croaked awn and awn and awn
Other creatures loathed his voice,
But, alas, they had no choice,
And the crass cacophony
Blared out from the sumac tree
At whose foot the frog each night
Minstrelled on till morning night”

Such was the scenario. In the morning, while leaving for the office, her tape recorder would be blaring as if it was a tea-shop and while returning, sa, ri, ga, maaa would find me as I neared the parking lot. Some old mami, two blocks away, called her M.S. and that flattery catapulted her to asura sadhakam. Steady inflow of kids ensured constant blaring till 8 p.m. And during the weekends, she would be on with “never say die” attitude. With morose and long face, kids came and tried to match her pitch. There would be a parade of varsais, alangaram, geethams and some tukdas, all in a pitch so high, enough to lead to a pre-mature deafness. Maithreem bhajatha was promptly included in the curriculum after the receipt of the M.S. flattery and shreyo bhuyat sakala jananam in terrible pitch was icing on the cake, to say the least. Kids, at least on week-ends should be left by the parents to play and explore the dirt and rainbows in the sewer. But parents being parents, force upon the kids uninteresting swaras, all with the hope that he/she would become future sanjay or sudha. And to send the tottering kid to a music teacher or a piano class or a slokam class is a fashion statement as well.

"But one night a nightingale
In the moonlight cold and pale
Perched upon the sumac tree
Casting forth her melody
Dumbstruck sat the gaping frog
And the whole admiring bog
Stared towards the sumac, rapt,
And, when she had ended, clapped,”

Sunday mornings brought partial delight to my ears for a middle-aged man came for his classes; any change in the routine is a welcome. He was in an advanced stage; music, of course. Major krithis were sung and his voice was so soothing to the ears. The krithis proceeded on two level; she blaring at top-notch level and he, at his comfort level, and mine too. Soon I noticed his faltering voice for he was attempting to raise his pitch to match her. I heard her commenting, “you are not singing well” and it was at this point I recollected “The frog and the nightingale” and I could visualize the result.

“Every day the frog who'd sold her
Songs for silver tried to scold her:
"You must practice even longer
Till your voice, like mine grows stronger.

Now the frog puffed up with rage.
"Brainless bird - you're on the stage -
Use your wits and follow fashion.
Puff your lungs out with your passion.
"Trembling, terrified to fail,
Blind with tears, the nightingale
Heard him out in silence, tried,
Puffed up, burst a vein, and died.”

As luck would have it, the chap did not end up bursting his vein for the frog flew for foreign land.

if i were a girl...

My mom often sighs, “if only were you a girl”. What could have been the consequences, I ponder, for my mom and me. I would have opted for science stream, done my computer engineering from one of many longada engineering colleges thriving in south india. And then would have swarmed to cts, infosys, wipro, tcs etc. And then the b(g)room hunt would begin, with me calling the shots: “professionally qualified and well settled smart looking boy following our culture and tradition with modern outlook, caring and humorous. Should be a B.E. and based in Karnataka/Tamilnadu or anywhere in abroad”. And then marriage shall follow and having insisted on foreign mappu, I shall join my husband there. And then, the inevitable happens; I am on my domestic way. And my mom joins the I.A.S. cadre! She would join me to take care of the infant and start her service as an indian aaya.

My mom often sighs, “if only were you a girl….I would get to see foreign.” Also she has reached this skewed opinion that girls take much better care of their parents.

Plucked hair versus medical seat

Gurleen Kaur, a girl aspiring to be a doctor, approached Sri Guru Ram Das Institute of Medical Sciences and Research, Amritsar, for admission relying on sikhs minority quota. The institute refused to admit her for she had plucked her eyebrows. Similar fate awaited boys who had trimmed their hair. The controversy reached the Punjab & Haryana High Court which finally concluded as, “For the present controversy, we hereby, accordingly, hold that retaining hair unshorn is one of the most important and fundamental tenets of the Sikh religion. In fact, it is undoubtedly a part of the religious consciousness of the Sikh faith.” This decision was reached after going through reels and reels of paper on the evolution of sikh religion and do’s and don’ts prescribed by various gurus.

Individuals and organizations gave their views on significance of “unshorn hair” to sikh religion and supported the decision of the institute of not giving seats to the kids who had tampered with their pitch. It seems the majority of the community had turned against the kids. The judges handling the case also received letters advising them not to venture to define sikh religion.

Without going into the nitty-gritty of the judgment and beliefs of sikh religion, was it fair on the part of the sikh community members to gang up against their own kids in order to deny education. What was established to wrangle out of the clutches of muslim seers and brahmins holiness has become subject to myriads interpretations. The kids ought to have been forgiven for “it is manlike to punish but godlike to forgive”. Was not giani zail singh, who was charged a tankhahia (liable to religious punishment) following the army action within the golden temple precincts, exonerated?

The entire mission of the tenth guru has been summed: ‘a Sikh must worship Akal alone, must take the Word to be the measure of personal conduct, must consider the Khalsa physical form to be ideal and must ever strive for the welfare of the entire humanity’. Time has come to introspect whether the denial of seat is an act towards welfare of the entire community.

Yeh Dil Mange More! - Amritsar - Final day

Unusual travel suggestions are dancing lessons from God. – Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

The second day of our trip ought to have been pretty relaxed one. But yeh dil mange more! The name “Nangal Dam” was etched in our minds and there was an itch to visit that dam since our Shatabdi was at 5 in the evening. Not that we did not have any alternate place to visit. There were again few temples to visit. But the question doing the rounds in our minds was that “was temple necessary?”. Bala posed to me the question and reading his mind, I gave preference to the dam. The dam was around 3 hours drive from Amritsar, around Pathankot. We would not have ventured but we had a car at our disposal. My uncle’s client readily agreed to furnish us with a car. I guess, the luck was on our side, for the time being.

We woke up around 8 and had a quick second round of Jallianwala Bagh and the Golden Temple since snap during the day-time was must. The car was to come around half past 9. We even had our breakfast. “Amritsari kulche” with slabs of yellow butter was the chosen one and we had paneer variety and other variety. Bala ordered lavishly but I was able to sense what was to come with those Kulches and amul butter. I saw Bala running out of breath for he has this aversion for butters; a kind of mental block. I ordered him to get some fresh air; he went and came back to finish those Kulches. But the butter had the better of him and soon he collapsed. He re-gained his form only after I sprinkled some holy water and patted him. The worst was over, I thought.

We hopped into the Skoda around quarter to 11 and it took us quarter past 11 to hit the so-called highway after the fuel stop. I would never call it a highway and I declared so within half an hour of the journey for the road was very narrow and was heavily trafficked. Or being in a Skoda, we were in a disadvantageous position. And the route had as many as 4 railway crossings. While bala was busy shooting the Punjab, J&K and H.P. buses, I could, from the back seat, easily gauge that the car was only doing around 50 kph and the driver had predicted a running time of around 2 hours to the dam. Bala now and then asked and tried to re-assure me that time was well in control. But the passage of time is simply an illusion created by our brains. Soon I suggested the option of “turning back” and I announced that, “we shall miss our train”. He opined that this was the age to have some thrills, “so what we miss the train”. And the car kept on moving. Apparently the driver had some contact at the dam who could show us the dam. It was only around 1:40 pm that we saw something resembling a dam. We were pretty close to the Jammu border. Bala was excited and wished we could touch the border. I had other agenda on my mind; to catch the train. It was no dam but only “sluice gates” or ‘barrage’ which, is quite near to my home over Hindon Canal. On enquiry, we came to know that the actual dam on river raavi was still 20 km away. It was impossible to reach the dam. We had set a deadline of 2 pm to start. Having some time at our hands, we landed to see the river raavi flow nearby and happily clicked some shots and even had sugarcane juice.

I was more or less relaxed for I had made my mind to catch the alternate train. We had three hours to catch our train. But who knew that a Sikh procession at bhatala would force us to make a de-tour and that a train would bother us at all the four railway crossings. Bala’s face was all drained and colorless. The driver was unable to accelerate the big car to the hilt for there was no road. At five, we were some 10 kms away from the station. And the driver decided to take the car to the factory where its owner was waiting. Bala, till date, is of the opinion that “we could have still tried”. It was like Dharmendra trying to catch the burning train; he did for he was on bike but we failed. We went to the station hoping some miracle. The first platform was empty. Bala got the tickets to Delhi and we were to board a night train. I was only worried about breaking the news to folks at home. It was our first solo travel sans the family and here was the result. Bala had trotted the globe on his own but it was our first joint venture. Somehow I communicated the news, which was received with mild rebuke. It was a train to Bihar and we were able to get two seats given the power of money and amenable nature of man. I ensured that bala retained the seat till Delhi and had a sound sleep for he was to catch the 6 am flight to Bombay. I had a good sleep for 3 hours. The train was jam packed being a train to east side. People lay everywhere, huddled and shivering in the cold. Bala, on the previous day, was all eager to have the lunch in Shatabdi and I had told him that we would be having it while returning. And we only had some rotis and sabji sans paneer and ice-cream.

The train was on time and we were out by half past 4. But ‘delay’ hit us back with vengeance. His car driver screwed up and he eventually landed around quarter past 15. By that time, Bala had to re-schedule his flight and he pounced on the driver who came up with all sundry excuses.

In the end, the dammed dam did us. And we still laugh seeing those pictures of the barrage and at our folly. Someone has rightly said, “experience is retrospect knowledge”.

Amritsar - wagah border - day 1

Wagah Border! How this place crept in the ‘to visit’ list, I do not know. Neither would bala. Perhaps influence of Bollywood. But I have not seen Wagah in any of Sunny Deol’s or Vijayakant’s film. Are reasons required to visit unseen and unexplored places?

‘The Border’ was suggested by bala in 2007 for the family trip but our folks wanted a pilgrimage tour and thus the border was earmarked for our ‘first together’ trip. Apart from the ‘border’, Golden Temple and Jallianwala Bagh completed our itinerary. The tatkal tickets in Swaran Shatabdi for to and fro and the opportunity to capture the border and golden temple revved up our imagination. Though the weather was cold and damp, our spirits were like bulb in a lamp; we of course returned as fused bulbs.

Armed with sweaters and jackets, we started to station around half past five in the morning on 9th of Feb 2008. It was a shivering auto trip despite the mufflers. The blue coach, not immaculately shining, greeted us at the platform. We boarded and exchanged our seats with a family coming from Canada/Britain heading to Pughwara. After all luggage tags and whiskied breath never lie.

Having docked our luggage, we ran to shoot the cream and orange colored electric engine with our lens. Couple of quick poses and clicks, we ran unabatedly and boarded the train. Having settled, we waited anxiously for the engine to muster courage to pull the coaches. Meanwhile, bala was all praise for the interiors and remarked, “it just resembles an aeroplane”. Ten minutes past its scheduled time, the platform started drifting apart. Indeed, delay is the signature style of Indians and our Railway!

The train slowly chugged its way through poverty and decay, demonstrating to us the concomitant of progress. As the train picked up its speed, cramped hutments and filth slowly gave to greenery and signs of prosperity. Mr. Helios slowly peeped out and its rays permeated the fog over the green fields and soon our tinted windows. The warmth forced us to remove our jacket and as we settled, driver of 2031 sped past Patiala, Karnal and Kurukshetra, constantly honking. The pace was maintained till we reached the outskirts of Ambala, our first stop; Ludhiana, Phagwara, Jalandhar and Beas followed and bala pointed to me that, “we are diagonally cutting across Punjab”. But before we disembarked, breakfast was served to us and we were hoping for the lunch too and even had enquired unabashedly, but I knew that there would be no lunch and I was correct.

Around half past one, we were outside the station, hunting auto-walla. I tend to choose and reject auto’s based on the appearance of auto-wallas. I am just caught in-between a popular saying, “face is not the mirror of the soul”. We hopped into an old man’s auto and he dropped us at Sood’s guest house and charged us only nominally. A circuitous route had to be adopted through bye-lanes since autos were not permitted near or on the road leading to the Golden Temple.

Roads constitute the heart to any city and city chokes if there is congestion; but what if there are no roads? Roads, lanes and bye-lanes, it is all the same in Amritsar. No work was being done for the people by the elected people. On way to the guest-house, huge posters and banners of Mr. Sidhu greeted us and we were informed that Mr. Sidhu had donated 1 crore and that people were largely happy with his performance.

Wagah border was our immediate agenda and we had to leave around half past three so as to reach there around 5 pm. We quickly had our lunch and a softy too in the peak winter and the guest-house attendant arranged for a shared Qualis at Rs. 200 each. We occupied the front seats, four more persons in the back seat and the driver was waiting for four more passengers. The vehicle also had a starting problem and half-an-hour was wasted for full occupancy. I showed my impatience but he assured me of timely delivery. We again lost considerable time wading through the city traffic and I broached the “road development” topic and the driver was pretty optimistic that things were going in the right direction and a half-built fly-over showed itself as evidence saying, “hello! Dilliwale, look at me”. And we soon hit upon the Grand Trunk road and around half-past four we reached our destination. I had a fair idea of what I was going to see, the march and antics of the soldiers posted on either sides, but I was there to feel “the border”, things which make it; green grass and blue sky is what I could lay my sight upon. Thankfully the sky is still free of electrified barbed wires, tall brick-built arches and iron gates. What was going in Bala’s mind, I cannot comment. Our side was brimming with we the people and on the other side, there were handful of them. Even at the border we have special treatment syndrome i.e. seats adjacent to the gate were meant for people with some kind of nexus. Strings have to be pulled in India for everything. The atmosphere was all charged up and a man instructed the public only to shout vande matram and Bharat mata ki jai and not to use any derogatory words for Pakistan. And soon six men from BSF set off in a peculiar gait, a sort of fast-forward march past amidst cheers and claps and gates on both the sides were opened and then followed peculiar kicks and strong stamping of foots as if both the forces were threatening each other. We were also asked to do the tribal hooting when the soldiers on the other side performed antics. Ropes were thrown and exchanged and slowly and steadily the flags of both the countries were brought down amidst bugle sound and the public was instructed to stand up and not to use any slogans and our men came back and folded the tri-color and before the gates were closed for the day, Pakistani bus arrived from our side. Nonetheless, the gates were closed and were again opened for the bus. Bala had postponed the photo-shoot with the bus and now he was dumbstruck as he watched the bus disappear. The change of guards ceremony evoked mixed feelings in me for here at Atari-Wagah and Ferozpur border, guards of both the countries carried out exercises in-sync while elsewhere soldiers of Pakistan open fire and try to infiltrate. Somehow love tends to stop at the border!

With this the “retreat ceremony” came to an end. As soon as this was announced, bala with other people rushed towards the gate, perhaps in an endeavor to reach the “no man’s land”. And I rushed to trace him out. He was there, very close to the gate and asked me to press the click button. Some more pics here and there; with Mr. Harjeet Singh, the man who was in-charge of the proceedings, besides the barbed wire fences and a board reading : India the largest democracy in the world welcomes you and we slowly walked towards the parking area. Perhaps, with dejection that the main agenda was over so soon. We talked about another trip possibly with our spouses and kids down the year; if, as and when the accident happens.

Everyone was waiting for us in the car and the driver drove like F1 champ. I conducted a quick interview with the driver, Mr. Harkulvinder Sodhi. I was impressed with his driving skills, racy but had control for he had driven in Middle East and was planning to go to Canada wherein his sister was residing. He now, as I write this piece, must be practicing at Circuit Gilles Villeneuve.

Bala had arranged for a car next day for the Nangal dam expedition and had charted the plan for the night. Dinner and a quick tour of Jallianwala Bagh and to Harimander Sahib to watch palki sahab. Bala’s choice of guest-house was excellent for a five minutes walk down the lane and a left lead us to Jallianwala Bagh and a right lead us to the Golden Temple.

It was seven when we visited the Bagh. With lights every where and fountain at the central, it was a pleasant night indeed. But my mind travelled to April 13, 1913, when the madman dyer ordered indiscriminate firing. The Baisakhi gathering turned into a nightmare for the people assembled there. A memorial stands now sorrounded by lush green grass with notice boards displaying the bullet marks. The martyrs well is all sealed. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jallianwala_Bagh_Massacre http://www.punjabilok.com/misc/freedom/jallianwala_bagh.htm

We went straight to another place over which lot of blood has been spilled over the years, rather century’s and the last one in 1984 when the Indian Army hunted down Jarnail Singh Bhindranwala. The Golden Temple! We covered our head with the yellow cloth and bala’s one came nicely. Once inside, my mind was wondering as to how the tanks came in; such a huge complex it was with many entrances and many hostels. A mind boggling exercise carried out by the Indian Army brought out by sheer lust for power coveted by Indira Gandhi and Giani Zail Singh. Amritsar:Indira Gandhi’s Last Battle by Mark Tully and Satish Jacob is an interesting read. The book also takes us through the bloody battles fought by Sikhs to save their religion and our land from invaders. The complex also houses a museum which depicts in detail the struggles by Gurus and their bravery. The Adi Granth, the Holy Scripture, is now revered at the Temple. Daily the granth is brought from Akal Takht to the temple and at night is taken back there by golden paalki. Having finished “the clicks” and parikrama, we showed our reverence and bala instructed to wait for the service. This was bala’s style of killing time. Somebody had instructed him to witness the paalki sahib and he cajoled me to wait. It was a long chilly wait and finally the paalki arrived. The granth was placed and taken out and it was rush hour. Bala again disappeared and I was caught in a wrong line; the service line. One uncle pushed me to do the service, which was to hold one end out of paalki. At that time the question in my mind was “hey! Whether I can?”. Nonetheless, I did that service praying and had the chance to repeat after couple of minutes. I was only looking for bala. I met him near the Takht and he narrated to me the procession. All thanks to bala; the wait was indeed a worthy wait. Some more clicks and we promised to return in the morning for I wanted to capture the golden temple, standing in its full glory, under the sun. It was a tiresome day and I remember only hitting the bed. We slept like babies. Of course, with dress on with blankets.

The game heats up! – Day 2 in Corbett

The alarm failed to alarm us. It was by chance that I was up around quarter past five and sounded my alarm to bala, “we are late”. Of course, we were late for our rendezvous with tigers and we hurriedly dressed and packed. It transpired that bala had set the alarm for 5 pm. A couple of pictures and videos here and there followed as we checked out and it was quarter to six when we checked out from gairal gates.

Early morning happens to be the best time to do “walk the talk” with tigers. Irshaad showed us lot of pug marks of male and female tigers all around but was still not willing to press on accelerator. We even saw a sambhar deer in an alert pose and irshaad was able to guess that the tiger was somewhere near. Meanwhile, hari’s jeep overtook us while we waited at a spot. Soon hari’s jeep came in full reverse mode and they excitedly told us about the spotting of a tigress which had crossed he track and run into the grassland. My heart was bleeding! If only we had maintained some decent speed, we would have spotted the tiger and taken few quick snaps. That was not to be! We all did a turn around and chose to wait near the grassland wherein a tusker was merrily roaming. Some more sambhars were in an uneasy state, these animals have a knack of smelling dangers. Hari’s jeep quicky left the scene while we waited there in hope of spotting the tigress. Alas! We decided to proceed further. As we carried on, a colleague of the driver with foreign tourists was waiting beneath a tree and we learnt that this party spotted the very same tigress after couple of hours. Indeed it is all game of passion! We had missed our best chance.

The previous we were in a dilemma as to whether we should leave early to ranikhet by bus or continue with the safari in the afternoon since we had paid and then take a car to ranikhet. The afternoon safari made things clear about the prospects of tiger sighting. Hence, we had decided not to take the afternoon safari and proceed by bus which was around four hour journey.

Clueless as to where the tigress might appear, we proceeded towards dhikala, to the reservoir area through a different track. We also visited the poppy fields and crossed ramganga river

and went further and saw more beautiful birds. We had our breakfast at dhikala (Maggie and butter toast) and lazed around by clicking monkeys. At dhikala we saw a beautiful bird in pink Capri and she made our day. She was traveling in the canter which is yet another option to see Corbett which operates from 6 am to 12 noon. Canter, is typically meant for those who do not have reservation within the park. We next hit the sambhar track and stopped at the machan (tower). Hereafter, we were on our way to dhangari gate, kissing goodbye to the forest. Bala had yet another agenda which he pressed, “bhaiya, let e drive the jeep for some time”. The driver did not budge and cited some administrative reason. By 11 am we were out and I left the forest promising “I’d be back to see the tigers”. Bala, once on the highway, again pressed on his agenda and this time irshaad gave the vehicle. Thankfully, bus to ranikhet cut short the drive and we boarded the bus.

This was my first visit to a wildlife sanctuary and Corbett forest indeed obliged us by revealing various flavors. We narrowly missed tiger spotting, ran into wild tusker, saw beautiful birds, enjoyed the coolness of sal trees and fragrance of poppy plant, ride on various tracks were exciting and view of ramganga and grasslands was riveting. But is it right to disturb the forest and animals natural habitat? This is so because we humans do not take lightly when tigers or leopards stray into our boundary.

Travel advice is book accomodation inside the park in advance and tourism department always routes accomodaion through agents in order to gain commissions. Try to stay atleast for 2 days and morning safaris are the best time to spot tigers. Try to get placed at dhikala which happens to be the heart of corbett. Gairal's disadvantage is the distance and also it does not have elephant ride option.

Before I wrap up this piece, more news about tiger population has flowed in; panna has zilch. Apparently tranquilizer overdose for collaring has been cited as reason which made poaching more easier. Some allied news: recently, jairam ramesh, the Minister of State for Environment and Forests, visited Corbett to assess the situation and in his first visit, he spotted a tigress. Given the sycophantic attitude of the forest officials, the tigress had to show herself before the minister. The “pug mark” method for counting the tiger also came under sharp attack. The project tiger stands disbanded and national tiger conservation authority has been set up. Committees and authorities are well known for chai and samosa discussions. It requires someone of indira gandhi’s stature to save our national animal. Can mr. singh save his needy counterpart?

Tiger poaching is a complex issue having wide web; the demand: for use in chupas (traditional vest coats of Tibetans, the poachers: paid by men like sansar chand and the savers: belinda wright , valmiki thapar to name a few. And of course the forest officials, rangers and other staff complete the picture. Click these links to read more:
http://www.indiatogether.org/2009/feb/env-sanchand.htm
http://www.newsweek.com/id/134268/page/2 http://tehelka.com/story_main38.asp?filename=Ne120408tale_tiger.asp