Aah or Oh TAJ ?

India’s marvelous marble mausoleum has instant magnetic effect. One of the Seven Wonders of the World and the country’s number one show piece, it is located 200 kms south of Delhi. It is a long, arduous journey, even though one has the privilege to pass through a national highway having four lanes.

My advance reading reveals that only one out of eleven travellers globally visits TM. Nevertheless, 90% of the domestic tourists do not give it a miss. There is a need, therefore, for tourism campaigners in India to wake up and sell this priceless product. They are in dire need of an overhaul.

One is sure of one thing associated with Taj – its aura, charm, mesmerism, the refreshing and soothing effect it has on you- in the morning, noon, evening or a full moon night.

On 4^th Feb.2012, subsequent to facing a bit of warmth and inhaling some dust of subsiding winter, at the first instance, it was refreshing to see the Tomb of Akbar the Great at Sikandra. Leisurely we took photos of a very well kept monument. Presence of a few visitors facilitated access to the elaborate carvings on the minarets & the prominent, attractive calligraphy. On the contrary, it is sad to see an old lady begging and some tussle in a foul language between the local transporters over flimsy grounds.

Within a few minutes we turn right from a ‘chowk’ leading to one and only Tajmahal (TM), India’s best heritage and architectural show piece for the world.

One of the several bridges on the way, it appears, has been added recently. The whole setting is congested. It wasn’t there in Oct ’2003 when I visited TM with D.T. and now late Ankoor. I remember and pray for him before proceeding further.

After two kms we have a breath of fresh air when we come across fairly wide and green four lane road along the Agra Fort. In the changed situation, we pull down window pane to catch the first glimpse of TM. Reaction on the part of ever smiling Dips cannot be described. He was simply overwhelmed and bowled over. We manage to take four to five photos but these turn out to be blurred and gloomy owing to preponderance of fog. On the contrary, the snaps of neighbouring Agra Fort, a pinkish red sand stone marvel come out well. A close up of marble room on the edge is worth mentioning as Emperor Shahjahan was held captive therein by his son Aurangjeb. Legend has it that he begged to be kept in this corner to enable him to see the Mausoleum of his wife Mumtaj Mahal every day.

Due to paucity of time, we take a U-turn from the main parking area of TM. While we retreat, the haze over marble wonder of the world has descended a bit. But it is too late to revive our spirits and desire to see TAJMAHAL in its pristine glory.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

A fresh opportunity to have a brush with the Taj comes on 18^th February. I get down to Agra Cantt. at 11.45 Hrs. from 12808 Samta Express. Approach to the station is dirty and full of poly bags. People defecating in the open, without any regret or shame bring in more of embarrassment. When the train had slowed down, urchins and teenagers were also seen jumping to bogies, presumably for a free ride.

Once outside, weather appears congenial. There is nothing noteworthy about the station. Usual fiefdom of taxi, three wheeler drivers and rickshaw pullers is visible. There is no trace or impact of Taj Mahal on the façade of station building unlike the magnificent stations of Lucknow, Kanpur, Varanasi and Allahabad.

Upon successfully negotiating the congestion in the outskirts, we enter clean parts of Taj city. Good signages but of low height welcome the visitors. I wish uniformity is maintained when it comes to colour scheme or size of hoardings or mile posts. There is a plethora of hotels, restaurants, travel agents and currency exchanges. One can also see riot of colours when bag packer foreigners rub shoulders with local semi-urban populace.

Good sights of the historic city turn out to be a temporary phenomenon. Before sensing a shred of traffic jam, we are lucky to get a glimpse of Taj. The view is better as compared to the earlier one. As a result, six to eight shots are possible. Getting close to the Yamuna was a good decision from photographic point of view but it turned out to be a disaster from the environmental angle. Dedicated and reliable Deepankar accompanying me too nods his head. It seems as if Agra & Delhi are having a cut throat competition to pollute the river. After a drive of almost two kms. one cannot locate any effluent treatment plant.

While being trapped in traffic for more than an hour one notices the following: people lack civic sense, traffic police constables are conspicuous by their absence, noise pollution is extraordinarily high, strong nexus between agents, touts, transporters and hoteliers of different hues results into compromising country’s prestige, people do everything on the road from basking in sun, washing clothes, taking bath to hanging their under garments, etc.

All means of transport, viz, buses, trucks, cars, vans, SUV’s, rickshaws, cycles, scooters, mobikes, tractors and three-wheelers compete with each other for a space on road. Practically every known business is carried out along Jeevani Mandi Road with scant regard to two World Heritage sites.

Before departing, one learns with satisfaction that the magnitude of congestion and pollution in this part is much lower subsequent to some courageous and path-breaking initiatives taken by the District administration and the Supreme Court a few years ago.

ARE THE CONCERNED AUTHORITIES STILL ACTIVE & AGILE?

All said and done, it is believed that second or third visit to a tourist spot or a monument is a friendly encounter. Apart from fine tuning knowledge, it reignites the emotions. I can candidly and confidently surmise that after this visit to Taj, substantial value was added to my cognitive and sensorial responses. At least there was fresh impetus to draw inspiration from one’s heritage and maintain a positive and optimistic approach to move ahead.

VISIT TO PANCHNADA

(14.02.2012)

Departure for this truly relaxing spot situated at a distance of 57 kms. is at 7:45 am. It is not a clear day, but not a cold one either. Tension free Etawah residents are seen gradually leaving their bed to resume their daily chores. A drive of 20 kms on six lane National Highway towards Kanpur (160 kms) takes us to Bakewar.

It is nice undulating terrain through the ravines, a part of which was a happy hunting ground to famous dacoits: Mohar Singh, Madhav Singh, Malkhan Singh etc. before they laid their arms. Landscape and forest cover ahead reminds one of JNU campus in Delhi. Within half an hour of drive, we come across a beautiful Peacock comfortably seated atop a high mound. I am tempted to ‘shoot’ with my repaired 5.5 megapixels Canon Camera. Next, we hit Chakar Nagar, a small but dense Kasba. Very soon Yamuna river appears. It is wider and cleaner than at Sumer Hill, our exorbitant temporary abode overlooking road to Bhind (40 kms) and Gwalior (125 Kms).
After barely five kms, we see Chambal river. It is awesome. After all, it has a history behind it. It looks fabulous in morning. One learns that there is an impressive Crocodile sanctuary on its southern bank. I promise to come again. Further drive of a few kilometers on the well-maintained district road leads to Hanumantpur. One turns left and begins the last part of drive of 20 kms to Panchnada.

There is a slight change in terrain. It now looks like a plateau. Not every portion of land appears cultivated. Mostly one sees Mustard, Wheat and Sihuwah (cooking oil extracted from it). Birds are not that many, for want of wetlands. A striking feature is a ‘Scare Machan’, located in far flung corner of a wheat field. A rope is tied to pull it when animals intrude to have a free ‘feast’. Reportedly, the rope is also tied to a drum to produce sufficient noise. Thana Bitholi, a sort of ‘Kala Pani’ for Policemen emerges at 9:00am. It is the last Govt. or private establishment of the District.

Typical earth mounds of ravines having several huts with low roofs are located here and there. Cultivation is being carried out in small plots mainly in the depression areas. It is Babool vegetation that is all pervading.

Suddenly we see a beautiful 0.5 km. long high RCC bridge inaugurated barely six months ago. Looking at the scenario we have the reason to believe that our destination is at a stone’s throw. Underneath flows a river that has amalgamated waters of Sindh, Kuari and Pahuj streams. On the left is the mighty Yamuna in which the Chambal river has already merged two to three kms behind. Thus, contrary to the popular perception, five rivers do not actually meet each other, rather, they may have joined ‘hands’ at more than two places prior to the main confluence point at Panchnada.

A gentle walk over the bridge enables us a soothing glimpse of plenty of Peacocks, Parrots and other birds flying cheerfully over Wheat and Mustard fields situated close to river. A good photo opportunity of both sides slips away as a mild fog refuses to subside. A few shots are, nevertheless taken both from static and mobile cameras for posterity. We walk next to Rampura village of Jalaun District. The infamous Gudapurva village associated with the legend of Phoolan Devi is reported to be 65 kms away. One or two Babri kind of structures dominate the upper land overlooking amazing Yamuna.

Also visible is the vast beach on the other side, to be precisely falling in Auraiya District. The fog clears up by the time we reach a Temple to get a commanding view of the river. A ruin of hundred Satis also attracts attention. We attempt to soak into the overall pleasant experience by walking down to river through the green Gram fields. We feel sorry for the concerned authorities for not having ‘sold’ this beautiful destination to the tourists by providing basic information together with infrastructure.

Boating for twenty minutes gives us immense pleasure. We see four or five varieties of birds, all enjoying the pleasant and serene atmosphere of confluence. The water of Yamuna river is clear while slightly muddy water is seen flowing from the group of 3 rivers. Little bit of stench too is experienced on one side. It is quite a contrast from the Sangam at Allahabad. As per Shiv Pal, the tough boatman, depth of Yamuna over here varies from 20 to 30 meters. No wonder, she looks changed, fairly wide and calm.

While we turn finally, we recount what an exhilarating experience we had on seeing bunches of fish taking jump after jump, like professional swimmers. Equally memorable was the balancing act Vinay Kumar, the helper to boatman displayed while fiddling with two mobiles in a standing posture on the moving boat.

Visibility is again bad when we return to banks. Sun, however, is showing a rising trend. Ringing of temple bell reminds me of my remaining duties as Observer. I barely utter a thanksgiving word to the boatman as a welcome call comes from Professor Prabhakar from Japan. He seems to have liked my last night E-mail account of Etawah District. To him, it was not a message, it had all the ingredients of a full-fledged article.

After finishing conversation, I manage to ‘shoot’ a Neelkantha. She is contemplating in isolation. Thereafter, I enter the comfortable and reliable Innova on a satisfying note. We cross over the RCC bridge once again. On partial restoration of visibility, a few snaps of ‘T’ point are taken. The Chambal, however, continues to evade. We hit the road again in full speed, this time through the ravines facing Bhind to catch up with the hustle and bustle of electioneering.

Destination Tuensang (Aug 2010)

The AirIndia flight from Guwahati to Dimapur almost at dawn is a short and non-descript affair. Dimapur airport looks fairly big, though traffic is on lower side. One can notice massive growth of grass very close to the terminal building. It defies any justification.
Two young officers of NEPED, an authority of Govt. of Nagaland (primary concern–energy and environment), warmly receive me. Though baggage clearance is a time taking affair, the serene and hassle free atmosphere in the arrival hall is a welcome wind of change. Drive to designated hotel is not a long affair. Getting into an almost brand new Bolero reminds me of hilly terrain of Sikkim. Looking at pools of water, I am informed of the rain that took place previous evening and early morning.
The private hotel at Dimapur looks impressive, neat and clean. Presence of a few foreign ‘smoking’ women gives an indication that tourism in this part is surviving if not ensuring economic returns to the common man. The service, however, is discouraging. As a result, we have to spend more than an hour to have breakfast and a short meeting with CCS, Planning, Govt. of Nagaland and his Joint Secretary, also associated with NEPED. On their suggestion, we decide to go to Tuensang via Golaghat in Assam. It is in contrast to the usual route via Kohima (76 kms), the state capital. Latter is supposed to be longer and more time consuming.
Sharp at 9.30 am, we leave the hotel to pass through 6 to 8 kms of completely flat portion of Dimapur. Population, at this time of the day looks sparse. In no time we enter Karbi Anglong Dist. of Assam. In the beginning it is Khatkhati village, followed by Bokajan, having an Army check post and a CCI cement factory. Next, we see a diversion for Numaligarh and Goalpara. It is a smooth drive on a good road, presumably, as it is a Sunday. Paddy fields are on both sides. After sometime one can see hills also as a backdrop.
By 10.10 am we reach Balipathar. The road sign indicates as if we are close to Jorhat Dist. Piles of firewood over machans remind me of similar practise followed between Muri and Ranchi in Jharkhand. The sight of black flags on vehicles surprises. One presumes that there is some cause for protest. But Takum Chang of NEPED informs that someone may have died and the burial may not have got over. Variety of small vehicles and pickup vans bearing both Assam and Nagaland number plates are negotiating slightly serpentine road going through thick patch of forest. One is reminded of roads of Middle Andaman in Jarawas area.
The river Garampani next catches our attention. A prominent board shows that there is a wild life sanctuary stretching upto Kaziranga. Around 10.40 hrs., one mile stone indicates that Numaligarh is only 45 kms away. Suddenly, a Mongoose crosses the road. It wakes up one of the officers from sleep. A village of Golaghat Sub- division thereafter comes before our eyes. A tri-junction (Tinaili) indicates that Golaghat town is barely 7 kms away while Numaligarh and Guwahati are located at a distance of 30 and 272 kms respectively. Once we shift from National Highway to the State highway, the condition of road can be very well imagined.
Golaghat, HQ of a District by the same name, is a sleepy one, having less of population and activity. The office, court complex and shops have nothing fresh to show. On seeing elevated foot path over drains, one remembers Guwahati. After all, these are high rainfall areas needing proper drainage. Negotiating pedestrians, our driver appears fairly confident in finding out correct approach to Mariani. But he falters. We get diverted. Upon asking local residents time and again, we hit the right direction.
By 12.15 pm we reach Titabari. Boards all over are mostly in Assamese language. This looks like a typical ‘Kasba’. Hills of Mokokchung are now clearly visible behind the paddy fields. Road condition improves gradually. Soon we see plenty of tea gardens on both sides. I am tempted to drop down twice to take snaps. The beauty of the place prompts me to speak to Ankoor. He listens more than he talks. Probably, I should have more ‘material’ to report to him and his mother, may be, after reaching Tuensang.
Mariani town is the last settlement of Assam before we enter Mokokchung Dist. around 12.45 hrs. We take a right turn from Mariani College, well past the HQ of 752 Border Road Task Force. The huge hoarding displays that Mokokchung town was 85 kms, while Tuensang was 185 kms. Before we venture into hilly areas of Nagaland, it was a good decision to fill up our belly with whatever snacks we could get at a road side dhaba. Offer of free fresh red chillies from the owner was something unusual.
Around 1 pm we enter Dissoi Valley Reserve Forest of Nagaland. Gradual climb begins. Drive through the forest dominated by bamboo plantation is memorable. I do not forget to capture the beauty in my mobile camera. Soon heat of plains gives way to coolness of hills. Within half an hour we are stopped at a Army check post. I am told, it is going to be a regular feature. While we chit-chat with the Jawans, we also break monotony by having tetra pack cold drinks brought so affectionately by the NEPED officers.
By 1.50 pm we gather sufficient height to reach Changki. The beautiful scenario from top encourages me to shoot again. View of traditional huts in the midst of paddy fields looks mesmerizing. I am informed that Changki is dominated by Aao tribe, one of the 13 major tribes of Nagaland. High literacy percentage among the tribesmen has ensured their sizeable presence in bureaucracy. Though the main village over a hillock on the right hand side looked attractive, we did not have enough time to resort to a diversion. Within half an hour, we manage to reach New Camp, which enables us to have the first bird’s eye view of Mokokchung.
Just before 3 pm, finding no way side eatery on account of today being Sunday, we stop very close to an apology to a waterfall to consume the food stuff ‘saved’ from Dimapur. While we all enjoy sharing the food and drinking the natural ‘mineral’ water, adequate care is taken of the driver, for, he was to negotiate another 5 hrs. of tough hilly terrain. Subsequently, we pass through Chungtia and Khensa villages, both having few houses. View of orange trees and green grassy land on the other side of the valley was simply amazing.
Sharp at 3.40 pm we enter Mokokchung. Situated at a height of 1360 meters, it appears to be a typical hill station with a couple of Churches, perched atop prominent locations. Old world charm and shades of modernity are seen co-existing. Though streets look deserted due to Sunday, it is nice to see a bunch of boys and girls making a bee-line for tuition. A few mothers in traditional dresses are also witnessed feeding and grappling with their tiny tots. Before sunset becomes imminent, we refill our petrol tank.
By the time we manage to drive down to the Dikhu river (4.30 pm), the boundary of Tuensang Dist., it has become dark. The road along this side of the state is not only narrow but same abounds in pot-holes. Occasionally landslide points are also visible in an area that looks otherwise stable. Drive, per se, is so slow that it takes one hour and fifteen minutes to cover 25 kms. We get much needed relief from apparent boredom and fatigue when we manage to enter Chare around 5.10 pm. It is an over grown village, once again having churches and plethora of traditional houses. A few barking dogs break the solitude.
Upon giving ourselves a little bit of breathing space, we prepare mentally for the last phase of journey stretching to 60 kilometres. Condition of road further deteriorates. One learns that this National Highway leading to Myanmar border through Tuensang is repaired and re-laid almost every year, alternatively by the State PWD and the GREF. Though many more villages are passed through in pitch dark situation, villages of Yangli and Longkhim (habitat of Sangtam tribe) are reported to be of some significance.
At long last, around 7.30 pm we get the first view of Tuensang. But for reaching this remote Dist. HQ, one has to negotiate a tough sinking point. By the time we enter the town, most of the doors have shut down. Practically there is no pedestrian movement. Fortunately, there is electricity even if voltage is on lower side. From the main square, we drive upwards, looking for the Circuit House. On learning about location of the Bungalow of D.C. on to our left, we try to find out if he was in town. We get a negative response from the half asleep watchman. By 7.50 pm we reach Circuit House, located at an altitude of 1791 meters. Before alighting one does not forget to put on woollens. The House having 5 rooms with a reasonable size compound, however, has no catering facility. One of my hosts, therefore, volunteers to wake up his mother-in-law in search of dinner. A futile attempt is made to ring up Ankoor and D.T.
Subsequent to rest and relaxation for an hour, we drive down to the traditional house owned by the in-laws of Takum Chang. Except us, everyone else in town has supposedly hit the pillow. The typical Ekra construction, look of the drawing room and impressive spirit of hospitality once again bring back memories of Sikkim. We finish eating tasty food in roughly half an hour and bid good bye by profusely thanking the hosts. But for them, we would have remained hungry whole night. The challenging moments of the journey so far shall not deter me from visiting 8 to 10 villages in next three days to assess changing livelihood patterns of the people, I utter so, prior to switching off the dim lights. Temperature had come down drastically, but not my spirits.

Bright sunny day on 20/11/11,Lunak La(5120 mtrs.)as seen from Lhonak Valley(14,500 ft)

Fantastic Eco-tourism Opportunity,Thangu(13,000 ft.),N.Sikkim

Chopta Valley,Height-14,000 ft.,Thangu,N.Sikkim(20/11/11)

View of Mt.Khangchendzonga from atop Siddheswar Dhaam,Namchi

Mt.Khangchendzonga, October view from Ringhim, Mangan(N.Sikkim)

Mt.Khangchendzonga, view from Namchi(7/11/11)

Together we can do.....pledge taken while waiting for sunrise behind snowpeaks

Joy of Illumination(India Gate against fading blue color of sky)

India Gate(mid Sept.2010)

Cup that cheers Mt.Nandadevi.......(Mukteshwar)

Suprabhaat.....Mukteshwar,U.K(7,450 ft.) 29/9/11

Mt.Lama Ongden(5868 mt.),above Lachen

Mt. Kanchenjunga as seen from Tashi Viewpoint(Nov 2011)

Serene Valley,November View

Joy of Seeing

Millions cannot see yet they survive and thrive .While they have a compulsion to struggle,I was determined to enter the dark arena on my own volition to see ultimately the light at the end of the tunnel.

Eight days after my Phaco surgery, Dr Bharat Ratna, the friendly Consultant Ophthalmologist at CFS declared that vision in my right eye had been restored to the extent of 90 % and that it was to be further fine tuned over the next 8 to 10 days .A similar test within 21 hrs of surgery had revealed less than satisfactory results. I would candidly admit at this stage, I was more inclined for gradual recovery rather than quick restoration.

In addition to being given positive sight inputs, I was encouraged to gradually take up normal activities,such as ,walking ,reading ,writing ,watching TV etc. The strenuous activities, as expected, were to be avoided ,nevertheless. It was a welcome sigh of relief.
More freedom was in offing subsequent to stichless, painless and no bandage surgery made possible as a result of only 3 mm incision as opposed to 10 to 12 mm incision in conventional surgery. A Hoya-P.S.A.F.-1 (U.V.) lens was emulsified with the help of ultrasonic energy. One is not sure whether Monofocal or Multifocal IOL(Interaocular Implant) was placed within my eye to correct the vision for distance and reading ,otherwise impeded by Cataract.

Apart from minimum complications, the whole procedure took barely 15 minutes, though the experience with drops of local anaesthesia was a mixed one. A sort of lingering pain prevailed which could have been avoided if injection method was resorted to .A short interaction with the surgeon prior to surgery and careful removal of patient to a proper recovery room after surgery can be good confidence building measures. Also, overall basic facilities at the hospital should be in tandem with quantum of payment.
Based on experience gained and expectations raised, does one presume that the scenario will be bright provided the precautions spelt out are to be taken in right spirits? Hope, I am in a position to take rest as advised. And, the IOL soon truly becomes a part and a parcel of my body for the rest of life as claimed by the surgeons.

There cannot be a better joy than the joy of seeing. I need it, to jingle all the way………..

Operation period Thoughts

Precisely seven days after Cataract surgery I am making an attempt to write a few lines for the first time.What do I scribble ? About eyes ? Logically yes.May be,something else as well .

Let me begin with the dark glasses I am wearing .It was purchased for Rs 70/- in Law Centre, DU by late Ankoor.Though his memory touches us every now and then ,every day ,he was unfortunately pulled up at that juncture and made to explain expenditure of an insignificient amount.It happened when he was pscychologically on a decline ,when he won't know who he was ,where he was and what he was doing .Thoroughly and badly sandwiched between depression and Epilepsy .

Seven months and one day has passed by since he decided to leave us prematurely without giving any clue.

My thoughts about proceeding ahead with writing a piece get a jolt when a sweeper interrupts .He wants to sweep and mop the stair case temporarily occupied by me to get respite from the bone chilling cold .(20 & 5 degrees respectively).

I enter Home Shanti Home .A sweet ripe banana welcomes me.Soon to follow are melodious Md Rafi songs of bygone era : "Chu lene do najuk hoton ko" (Kajal),"Aaj ki raat ye kaisi raat ki hamko neend nahi aati"(Aman),"Khoya Khoya chand" (Kala Bazar),"Chhalkae Jaam "(Mere Humdum ,Mere Dost),etc .

A hot water bath below neck is the next task I perform .I take extra care in protecting right eye.What a relaxed feeling I have ! It attempts to attack chill in the air.DT is profusely thanked for extending requisite moral support .

Soon it is time for one more round of eye drops.Number of tablets have gradually come down,however .Too much of strain on left eye becomes obvious when it turns red and irritates.

By 1150 hrs I am back to my favourite day time hiding joint-The terrace.In the morning I had seen several piegons shivering in cold conditions.Now they seem to have gone to attend to their daily chores.The Mynas and Crows are in plenty to be seen.But no Sparrows,whatsoever.They are disappearing fast from the urban areas.This colony has a plethrora of puppies of different breeds and colours.They disturb occasionally my writing,basking in sun or a nap in between.

While relaxing over a Naga Shawl,I am tempted to think again.....................about missing walks ,yoga, future plans,contingencies etc.Old habits,afterall,die hard.How difficult it is to hear T.V .(mostly Lokpal stuff) rather than getting a glimpse of it?How much of concerted effort DT makes in reading out newspaper to me apart from cooking and giving medicine in time?

I dose off to get up again.It is nice to see the beautiful twins of Qr No. 4,their faithful boy servant and the "Vodafone" dog who barks very meekly unlike his Indian counterparts.Colourful dresses of tiny tots hung daily on the terrace, I never miss.Also scratching of wall by a worker and his incomprehensible singals to his colleague over the adjucent M.S. flats have become almost regular features.

Around 1300 hrs, Geetu of Qr No. 6 is seen having a justifiable argument with the plumbers who seem to have misadjusted fittings in their bathroom.Thus, poor giggling girls(with the addition of Shobha and Sikhu) are being deprived of their daily baths.Only last night,DT had visited them and relished "Milk Ka Chai" served in new chinese cups presented by me a fortnight ago.She,in addition,had her share of regular womanly gossip.

There cannot be a better treat than hot bowl of soupy noodles.It comes to me as a surprise when DT makes a special appearance around 1315 hrs.It not only tastes delicious but cold wind is rendered ineffective for a few minutes.

Slowly time fritters away .It is a memorable and soothing afternoon subsequent to a simple meal of Roti,Dal,Aloo Seam Ki Subji,Aloo Gobi ki Bhujiya and Boondi Raita.Half a glass of Apple juice further cheers me up when day light is destined to fade.

Azure blue sky and fully sun-kissed day remind me of my imminent return to the mountains of Sikkim after regaining eye sight.

In retrospect ,I deserved a break from the world of reading and writing.I was only walking my mind if not body.AND I suppose,I enjoyed it.

Thank You DT for bearing and supporting whole-heartedly.Thank You Hemant&Raj, Minu & Shekhar,Thaks & Saanu,Geetu, Dips,Munnu,Verma,Amal Bhaiya & Bhabhi,Haidar & Jayanti,Dr.Raza,Dr. & Mrs V P Gupta for visiting me...................and providing warmth and fellowship.

Torepkiu of Wapher

In the remote village of Wapher under Samator Block of Tuensang District of Nagaland, 75 plus Torephkiu, Head Gaon Bura, was basking in the eco-friendly compound of his house. 2nd of August, 2010 was a warm day in this high altitude village. It had rained the whole of previous night leaving a severe impact on electric supply. After a long interval, a senior Civil Servant was visiting his forgotten and neglected village. He had extended his helping hand to the Village Council Chairman, Shuhven, an ex-serviceman as also a Pastor in making hectic preparations for the visit. The slushy foot path leading to a meeting hall constructed under BADP had been cleaned, pot-holes were filled up and a fixed sum was ear marked for tea, refreshments and lunch.
Though news had been spread a few days in advance to call the working SHG members of the village, half of them had not understood the purpose behind the meeting. This much was sure that some announcement was going to be made in respect of a new scheme or two.
Torepkiu, proud owner of six Mithuns was leading a contented life with lukewarm backup of his second wife, 20 years junior to him in age. While most of his five children from the deceased first wife had settled in life, three of the off springs from his latest bride were attending a dilapidated Government Junior High School,closeby. While giving coins to them liberally as an incentive to concentrate on studies, he would not hesitate to extend this facility to all the neighborhood tiny tots on almost regular basis. Some of them would also get financial assistance for buying school uniforms and paying monthly fees. They would avail of a self declared holiday whenever the footpath leading to school would get submerged / become slippery as a result of heavy downpour. They would be also ‘eligible’ for a holiday, each time the teachers decided to have a gala time in Tuensang or Mokokchung.
When the entourage led by a senior officer of Union of India arrived at the village gate, Torepkiu’s joy knew no bounds. Though the Council Chairman, and the Pastor took lead in welcoming him, Torepkiu did not want to lag behind. A nagging pain in his left calf muscles did not deter his spirits. Rather, wearing a half-sleeved orange coloured vest and non-ironed black shorts, he attempted to walk fast with the help of a stick.
After exchange of pleasantries, the convoy slowly moved through the flat grassy land. Some of the women and children witnessed the whole development with interest. Otherwise also, the day had turned bright and sunny after almost a week. The brightness ensured quick drying up of wet and smelly warm cloths apart from organizing a sort of ‘sunning and airing ceremony’ for the household items of daily use.
Subsequent to a round of the village, including youth dormitory, the formal meeting was called to order in the modest, wooden meeting hall. The guest was welcomed with a traditional woolen shawl bearing the symbol/logo of the dominant tribe of Wapher. The speakers included the Council Chairman, the Pastor and Shuhven.The last named became an Interpreter due to his command over Hindi language. In the normal course, Torepkiu’s turn would not have come. When the guest evinced keen interest in his background and experience, he not only became vocal, he also threw sufficient light on the constraints and development prospects of the remote village. Like a seasoned leader, he would crack jokes in between while making submissions. Despite the dismal record of poverty alleviation schemes, he expressed a ray of hope for the toiling masses, without following a bit about the emerging group oriented approach of the Government.
Useful notes were exchanged, experiences shared and vital information was gathered, both in respect of functional and defunct SHGs during the course of interaction. Also on being asked, a fervent desire was expressed for coming under the umbrella of new SHGs depending upon the promotion prospects of a particular trade or activity.
It appeared that the villagers in general were miles away from the ambit of modern markets, what to talk of transporting the surplus products or adding value to them. The thrift habit was yet to pick up, though there was an urge for same, more so, among women in a society otherwise fully dominated by hefty and tall men. Credit link with the banks was also ruled out, as the nearest branch was located at a distance of 35 kms, requiring an irritating journey time of minimum six to seven hours.
As per prevailing tradition, the women were kept out of the meeting. Their role was limited to serving ethnic snacks, cold drink and tea. They could, nevertheless, be contacted near the gate when the GOI functionary expressed a desire to meet them. In his opinion, they were going to be main beneficiaries of the scheme, he had come to explain and advocate. This interaction made possible with the help of Torepkiu and the village Pastor could invite useful insights into the overall potential of the community. Within no time, the present villagers could regroup themselves into five to six new self help groups. They appeared more interested if not motivated.
The delayed lunch at Chairman’s traditional villa turned out to be a more relaxed affair. Varieties of ethnic non-vegetarian dishes were served with care and smile by four daughters of Chairman. Fortunately, three of them were studying and one of them had a plan to go to Kohima for higher studies. Torepkiu, despite being requested, refused to eat, for, in his scheme of things, meals were to be taken only twice- 9:30 AM and 5.30PM.
Sharp at 5pm, it began getting dark. It was time for the guest from Guwahati to leave. Accompanied by the District and Block officials, he summed up the nuts and bolts of the project to the eager villagers. Getting into his fur jacket, he did not forget to thank one and all, apart from showing them some semblance of optimism. He got an opportunity to shake hands with everyone except Torepkiu.
When the convoy of four Jeeps passed by the high and impressive traditional gate of the village, the uniformed Village Guard gave a smart salute. A few children ran from behind to bid good bye. Away from the gate, near an unused bus stop, a man hiding under an old thick blanket was also seen waving at the Jeeps. He uttered to himself-“whether they do something for the village or not, I have done my duty, to the best of my ability”. Can you guess, who was he?
The emerging, crystal clear rainbow from the nearby Myanmar border at dusk attempted to narrate a story with a tinge of hope and optimism. Without noticing this rare spectacle, the Govt. Jeeps picked up momentum to reach Tuensang.
Within a few months, the Civil Servant in question was transferred, leading to a situation when no dent could be made in the fragile socio-economic structure of the village, despite dedicated efforts.

Reminiscences of Ankoor

• It is one the most difficult write ups for me. Penning down thoughts about sudden demise of your only offspring requires indomitable courage, especially on the day of demition of office in the land of Goddess Kamakhya. One has to gather sufficient strength to come out with correct expressions. Piecing together scattered memories takes a good deal of time. But it is worth it.
• One knows that death is sure and certain but if it happens to near or dear ones, it is unbelievable.
• Our dear Ankoor passed away for his heavenly abode at 16.35 hours on 22/5/11 (Sunday) at a young age of 22 years and six weeks. He was suffering from epilepsy and mild depression. He was under regular medication and counseling. His desired needs, to the best of our knowledge were being attended to. We never knew, however, that he was extending, at the same time, a warm welcome to Yamraj.
• The mere fact that his body was lying in a morgue of a prominent hospital at New Delhi, without being identified for 21.5 hrs, gave us considerable pain. We cursed ourselves. Bringing him home after embalming, two hours later was also one of the most difficult operations one has ever undertaken in life.
• Two of us brought him to this Kalyug at 10.48 hours on 8/4/89. We rightly decided (much against social norms) to light his pyre together at platform number 27 at Lodhi Road Crematorium, around 11.20 hours on 24/5/11.His ashes were immersed in River Swarnarekha at Ghagra near Ranchi in the morning of the following day. His Shradh (last rites) was performed on 5/6/11.
• A self-satisfied loner, he always stood out from the crowd. He was inclined towards writing, both, poetry & prose. Laurels for his work came when he was crowned ‘Mr. Political Science’ in Sri Venkateshwar College even when his percentage of marks had registered a fall due to continued indisposition. Like a true soul he uttered-“I do not deserve it”.
• His straightforwardness & simplicity was loved by one & all. He was brimming with enthusiasm and energy till second week of September 2010.
• His hard work, sincerity & sharp intellect inspired many of his juniors in both colleges-Sahid Bhagat Singh and Sri Venkateswara, who are determined to bring pride & glory to their families. Though his innings ended abruptly in Law Centre-I, he was praised by his teachers for his grasp of the subject and his overall helpful nature towards classmates.
• His poems & prose, one is showing to relatives, friends & well wishers but very soon, it may be confined to the dustbin of history, unless documented well.
• Even when he was in Clsss IX/ Xth, he would say-“Brothers fight for toys in childhood & for property in adulthood”. Further, some of his impressions on Gujarat Riots (2002) were very realistic and touching:
Land of Peace has been broken into pieces,
Riots were regional but its effect was national,
God is one but people lack oneness, etc.
• The World was a stage for him and God wrote dramas for everyone. Acting well will ensure award while failing to act will invite punishment.
• He would expect everyone to forget the ‘vast’ past, never regret about. The present was not only to be remembered, but to be enjoyed.
• I wanted to write “Letters from Father to Son” through E-mail to Ankoor on the lines of letters from “Father to daughter “ by Jawaharlal Nehru. But I kept planning………….Time and tide wait for none. I was no exception.

Getting Mesmerized at 35,000 Feet

Normally flights at dusk offer very little in terms of natural beauty. These further become gloomy affairs when thin occupancy rules the roost. After initial setback in form of gradual rise in altitude, a silver lining comes by way of sight of twinkling lights down below. These, nevertheless, disappear from view in no time.
The experience gained in Flight No. SG 894(Guwahati- Delhi) on 12th May 2011, however, came as a breath of fresh air. The half empty aircraft gained its expected altitude within 15 minutes. Though sky was clear at take off and one was craving to see the panoramic view of the gigantic Brahmaputra, it was the rugged beauty of thick black and white cloud formations that actually stole the show. The view in the fading orange light was not only eye catching, it was also awesome. The horizon was at its best, with five prominent colours - orange, yellow, green, blue and black making a candid statement. It was a rare opportunity to see nature in its absolute glory. It restored my mind, body and spirit after a hectic day. Despite a ban on in-flight photography, I cannot resist the temptation to take half a dozen shots of this incredible scenario.
My romance with the wonderful sight gets a temporary setback when a tall, slim and smart hostess offers a non-vegetarian dinner packet upon struggling a bit to pronounce my surname. I am impressed once again with Rekip, whose alert and sincere acumen ensured delivery of this hot packet, of course on payment. My request for a vegetarian meal in place of a non-vegetarian one is quickly acceded to. When asked to divulge the reason, a streak of smile is visible on the face of the teenaged hostess. She is informed that the vegetarian packet was being ‘saved’ for D.T. who loves hogging the plane food even if it is at the dead of the night. One of such ‘savings’ figured prominently under the title “Caught in thin air” in one of the national dailies in October 1999. The direction of the flight was opposite this time. The view outside gave an impression that the air craft was now plying through thick clouds. It prompted occasional announcements from the pilot and crew -“Please fasten your seat belts; please do not walk down the aisle; please do not use the rest-room”, etc.
By the time we complete sixty minutes, it is pitch dark. Couple of snow peaks, including Mount Kanchenjunga, that were visible in the beginning, are not to be seen. All of a sudden, the aircraft takes a sharp turn. We go up, somewhat lose balance and are placed far away from the colourful horizon. Within a few minutes, we have a reverse experience, while we go down. The feeling was worth remembering. The scenario was worth a watch. The swing reminded me of Sky Diving or Bungee Jumping that one has always admired on T.V. but, perhaps, never experienced. The exposure was bound to inspire an artist or a painter. It was a full blown visual fantasy. I indulge in serenity that the sky offers and sit comfortably without any company on seat no. 6 F to soak in overall freshness. The occasional air bumps do not deter my elated spirits.
When I feel a bit hungry, two crisp round cookies, a bar of Perk chocolate and a glass of piping hot coffee are offered by a smiling steward. Having such a tasty beverage at 35,000 feet has its own advantages. Soon after struggling with a prominent daily and a non-descript magazine, I pretend to sleep, to be woken up in time with the sight of neighbourhood of Delhi, bathed in the glow of innumerable but artificial sodium vapour lights. This means that I am finally cut off from the natural, colourful horizon. The announcement regarding Delhi temperature being 390C at night (?) as opposed to 180C at Guwahati dampens my spirits. As if this was not enough, the approach to the earmarked runway takes longer than expected.
At 8.42 PM, when air craft was barely 500 feet above ground and that its stationary sisters were distinctly visible, our air craft, in a spur of moment, began gaining height once again and got diverted to dark sky in no time. Sharp at 8.52 PM, the Commander informs that the instruction of Air Control to move to runway no. 3 was given at the last moment. But for the expert handling by him, you could not possibly have read this brush with nature and adventure.
We had a miraculous escape, though most of the passengers were immune or oblivious to the gravity of the situation. It was strange, yet true. On reaching ground at 9.30 PM, I thank the Almighty. Fourteen years down the line, I witness some change when I enter my Delhi home. On the last occasion my people did not know the contents and intricacies of the story “Caught in thin air”, when I had dashed to Delhi, braving a dusty sky from the west. Coming out of thick clouds, on the contrary, I had entered the national capital from the east this time. In 1997, my little son was sleeping to glory. Now being an adult, he was deeply engrossed in studies. DT, who had instantly grabbed the ‘saved’ dinner packet once, gleefully accepts the Spice Jet packet but does not show any inclination to consume. Perhaps the mobile phone message had made all the difference. They were already aware of tense moments of a flight which had more fun than fantasy. In the changed circumstances, praying to God was collective and more passionate. One can write and write but sharing some exciting and memorable moments in a concise way is a good food for thought for posterity. I suppose, that keeps one kicking and away from complacency. (20/05/2011)

Shake, Rattle & Roll: Spirit of Rongali Bihu

Rongali Bihu marks the beginning of Assamese New Year. It is a festival of joy, coinciding with similar celebrations in West Bengal, Punjab, Manipur, Orissa, Kerala, Tamil Nadu etc. During the festival, everyone is in a jovial mood, singing and dancing with peer group or family. Mostly people throng their native places, leaving the cities deserted. It is the right moment to catch up with joint family and re strengthen the age-old bond. R.B. is the most popular and important among three Bihus celebrated. Other two being Bhogali Bihu (during Makar Sankranti) and Kongali Bihu (immediately after Diwali).
First day, known as Goru Bihu happens to be the last day of the previous year. On this day, cows are washed and worshipped. The second day, known as Manuh (human) Bihu, falls on the first day of the New Year.
Suddenly the whole environment changes together with the change in weather. Dresses of ‘other’ cultures give way to ethnic, yet expensive attire, both for women and men. People in general are so meticulously dressed that they give an impression as if marriages are taking place every day at the drop of hat.
Having made up my mind to enjoy the festivities from a close angle, I venture into the compound of Ganesh Mandir Community Centre at Khanapara. 11 pm was purposely chosen to get best out of it. As the arena was jam packed, settling down process took almost six hundred seconds. The first offering came in the form of a group song sung beautifully by a dozen little girls, wearing shocking yellow saris with tomato red borders. All of them were seated in a line. For a moment, it was silence in an otherwise noisy setting. They took time but could sing with confidence and poise for full 15 minutes. And, enthralled one and all. It set the ball rolling. Festive fervour was evident all over.
Next followed a dancing and singing troupe of young boys wearing cotton dhotis and muga silk kurtas. They were holding on to their Dhuls, flute, Gaganas, Toka, Pepas etc. In the close vicinity were pretty teenaged girls in heavy ethnic muga silk saris with long sleeve red blouses to give a contrasting effect. Their hair was neatly tied in a khupa. In such dance forms, the boys or men take the lead with hard beating of Dhuls and dancing in a circle. They set the stage literally on ‘fire’, for girls to take over, with their enigmatic smile, attractive facial expressions, graceful steps and ultimate circular movements. The dance comes to an end with vociferous beating of Dhuls and blowing of Pepas. A few selected girls twist and bend close to Pepa and strike a pose to reach the climax. Since the competitive spirit is all pervasive, they are often subjected to a variety of questions by the judges.
Upon conclusion of dance number, it was the time for vocal chord. One expected the usual stuff telecast on T.V. For a change, it was the turn of Goalpara folk songs. An eight member group led by a middle aged tall lady, wearing a chocolate coloured ethnic sari, duly supported by accompanying artists on Ghila, flute, Dhul, three Dotoras (Guitar kind of instruments) and a Sarangi simply mesmerized the audience for next hour. I could not follow the wordings of any of the seven songs but was more than convinced that she was singing straight from heart and that months or years of rehearsal were behind her deep voice. It had originality. It reflected a vibrant culture. She depicted a loud voice, while singing in a ‘Pancham Swar’. The number- Santa Re………….., probably is going to stir my imagination for a long time. A short, unassuming male companion was equally good, whenever he got a chance to sing a duet or indulge decisively into a chorus. The last song was a duet remarkably padded up with a slow, yet graceful dance movements by a dozen toddlers. They performed with care and confidence. They did not belie our expectations. But it was the ‘chocolate’ lady, who rightly occupied the centre stage.

All good things come to an end. This musical evening, being no exception. Two hours of uninterrupted entertainment gave me the needed healing and refreshment at a time when ‘Mission’ fever was at its peak. It may take some time before I lose the effect of the singer from Goalpara. She was too good to be forgotten instantly.
After soaking adequately in the festive spirit, I offer an ice-cream at the dead of the night to Jagannath, my faithful companion. He is half asleep. I return to the so-called modern world along the VIP Road. Over speeding mobikes and automobiles moving in wrong direction, semi-dark avenues, bumpy footpaths, homeless sleeping on pavements and dogs barking in the solitude of the night greet us. But I suppose, my haggard batteries are recharged to face a ‘Mission’ which will only mean business and no fun or frolic.

Reviving Happy Moments of 1983

1983 was the year when India won the World Cricket Cup for the first time. 1983 was also the year that became a turning point of my career. I heard, did not ‘see’ the final match between West Indies and India over radio in the rented accommodation of C.B. at Patna. I happened to be there to take a competitive examination. Not everyone would be glued to radio those days even if India was on the verge of becoming a World Champion. Justifiably, C.B. preferred to attend office on this momentous day. It was hearing and believing. And only a few could afford a TV set.
With this backdrop, I would confess that I have vivid memories of brilliant team work of Mohinder Amarnath, Kapil Dev, Madan Lal, Srikant , Sandhu, Sandeep Patil, Kirti Azad and not to be forgotten, Sunil Gavaskar. Sunny, despite his overall command over game, could not come out with flying colours either in semi-final or final, both low scoring events unlike the stupendous scoring pattern at present. It was Amarnath, who managed to get Man of the Match award with his remarkable all round abilities both in semi-final and final. Thus, a low profile Indian outfit without having a player of the stature of Sachin Tendulkar had not only arrived on the scene but was going to have a decisive say in the years to come.
Scenario was different on 2ndApril 2011 when the coin itself had to be tossed twice, presumably to give a momentary setback to India, tipped as one of the hot favourites. Life came to a standstill at Guwahati at 14.30 hours. There were no radios, however. Part silence was attributed to Bandh call given by ULFA. It was the tenth World Cup final and only the third time when a ‘chasing’ team was expected to register a win. Sentiments and emotions were not only charged. They ran high. Occasional applause was accompanied by beating of drums. Crackers too were being kept ready for the ultimate moment. Telephonic contact confirmed that C.B., who had ignored the importance of 1983 final, had bunked off his office to witness Dhoni’s men in action.
As the time passed by, performances proved simply awesome from both the sides. After initial hiccup, India swung back, slowly and gradually, primarily due to patience and perseverance displayed by Gambhir and Dhoni. The defining moment came at 2300 hrs when Dhoni hit a six to wind up the game in style. It was a stunning finish by the Captain, ensuring a glorious win. Consistent play resulted into fabulous performance. After the narrow miss in the final of 2003 and nightmare of 2007, India came back systematically, grabbing the Cup for the second time in a resounding manner. While Dhoni was adjudged Man of the Match, Yuvraj Singh, having scored 362 runs and taken 15 wickets was rightly declared Man of the Tournament. Both Tendulkar and Zaheer excelled with bat and ball respectively to come close to top their tables.
History was made at Wankhede Stadium. For the first time, a host country won the cup. It was also for the first time that a team chased a high score of 275 with success. India too became only the third country after West Indies and Australia to win the coveted cup more than once.
It was the celebration time for young and old alike. Expression of joy and bonhomie witnessed within the stadium got multiplied along the main throughfares not only within the country but the Indians all over the world were seen in buoyant mood defying the darkness of night. Rather, the TV channels kept the interest alive throughout the night. Tumultuous expressions of neibours of Dhoni, Kohli’s brother, Sehwag’s tiny tot and instant Bhangra act of Harbhajan’s mother were understandable. The cream of celebration, however, was expressed through the elated mood of Gambhir’s grandmother, who was up and kicking even after midnight.
1983 and 2011 are two different eras, according to K.Srikant, a member of 1983 team and current Chairman of selectors. When Cricket has become so dominating and penetrating, it may perhaps be appropriate or sensible to draw a line of comparison with what was in store in the early eighties.
The concept of one day game itself was introduced with a degree of caution. For, the ‘gentlemen’ would not prefer a ‘hurried’ affair. In the old era, it was radio that provided the ball to ball commentary. Ears, and not the eyes had to be alert. Colour TV was yet to make an impact, having been introduced in the country as late as November 1982 with the hosting of ASIAD. Rapid commercialization, which became a foregone conclusion, was yet to begin. There would be no painting of flags on faces or parts of body, leave aside Poonam Pandays, who declared in 2011 to bare all if India was to win. This unusual legacy of South America invariably connected to Soccer was still a far cry.
There would be no ‘yagna’ or mass worship sessions to clinch the cup. Pomp and show was on a low scale. There would be less hype and euphoria and no hysteria guided by naked materialistic considerations. Thunderous applause would be seen but no scantly clad cheer girls or bohemian drummers would appear to entertain the spectators. Tickets were difficult to get even in good old days and may be, black marketing was also resorted to. But these won’t be sold at an unbelievable price of Rs. 35,000 as at Mohali or Rs. 1.5 lakhs at Mumbai. The difference rightly highlights the level of investment both in Cricket and emotions. The Presidents and Prime Ministers would hardly sit in stands to watch a high profile match in the past. Their involvement was confined to sending routine congratulatory messages through their Secretaries.
In the bygone era, cricketers would occasionally get film roles. On the contrary, now, they sell premium fashion products and earn more than the film stars in endorsements. No wonder, emotional attachment with the game is sometimes replaced by emotional fatigue. Coming to degree of response, mainly the youth would go to airport and follow the winners in procession. Nowadays, you have almost whole night of celebrations cutting across all age groups and barriers. In the changed situation the tri-colour flutters around the world in one go. Shall we believe that thanks to the craze for Cricket we are inching towards building a national character?
All said and done, be it 1983 or 2011, one had to lose. And, it was Sri Lanka, despite their better track record in World Cup. In the words of Imran Khan, if India had the advantage of playing at home, it had to also cope up with tremendous pressure. Well done India. Keep up the spirit. Don’t be carried away by the tempting bonanzas. Play the game in the spirit of game. You win or lose for the nation, not for yourself.

Bird Watching

The phenomenon of season is one of the marvellous, enchanting and incredible free gifts of nature. In a normal parlance, one comes across three seasons. A deeper analysis will reveal six. Summer comes as a welcome relief to the pangs of severe winter. Reverse is also true. In between occurs the rainy season which not only balances but also cleans, refreshes and provides necessary succour. Like human beings, the animals and birds like and dislike, hate and relish, detest and enjoy a season or the other. Very few of us during our lifetime, however, take note of or are sensitive to the causes, needs, wishes and aspirations of a wonder called fauna.

Growing realization in this area will be beneficial both to the world and life, that is mild as also wild. Shall we give, therefore, some thought to an activity or a process of development that is sustainable?

To get rid of vagaries of nature, a good deal of inventions and discoveries have gradually become handy for the human beings. One can escape, therefore, the wrath of extreme nature by pressing a tiny and simple button. Why only human beings who can afford? Some of the privileged pets too lead a comfortable and sometimes, luxurious lives. Both in the West and East.

Right from beginning, shooting temperatures and dipping mercuries have propelled movement of thousands of birds from a place of extreme weather to the relatively milder pastures. They quickly learn from each other the habit of locating and then flocking around a water body thousands of miles away. Coming from a far away place, such as, Siberia, China and Afghanistan, these birds of paradise travel in a systematic way for several weeks. Popular destinations are- Bharatpur in Rajasthan, Sukhna in Chandigarh, Bhadkal Lake in Haryana, Mandwi river bank in Goa, Lake in the vicinity of Agartala and several other known and non-descript water bodies across the length and breadth of the country. Their migration period generally is noticed to be from early November to the middle of March.

While doing so, not only they experience much needed relief from the harsh and cold conditions of their habitat, they also feel at home in the company of local birds. It is a pleasure to see them grow and blossom in a new setting. Like any other 'guest,' they possess a sensitive nature. They, do not, however, have a desire to be pampered.

Bird watching during a particular time of the day is an amazingly peaceful and quiet feeling. It elevates mood. It teaches unity and understanding. Chirping of birds resonates. It has tremendous tourism potential apart from ensuring a deep healing touch. It can help in understanding and appreciating nature better. If you soak yourself in its mesmerizing beauty, it can leave a long lasting impact. It can, at the same time, free us from several misconceived notions. It has the capacity and the strength to enable us to move away from the element of artificiality.

For a change, let us attempt to peep into their innocent world whenever and wherever we get a chance. Rather, a bit of our quality time deserves to be devoted to them. They truly live and will facilitate our living. It can be a great learning experience, for, it can teach us the art of caring and sharing.

Shall we, therefore, strengthen our resolve in the dictum- unlike human beings, the birds and animals only give, do not take?

Tuesday Thoughts

Thoughts of 16 November 2010

I am Ankoor. I love myself and my parents. I am over obsessed with studies and feel that some conference is going on in my head. Sometimes I get an impression that a super power tries to control our mind through a satellite. As such, lakhs of emails are intercepted during the course of a day. OCD maybe is the name of my problem. But I am not sure.I have faith in God and myself. One day I may get cured. This faith is atoot (unbreakable).

I am feeling relieved after a good night’s sleep. Sleep had eluded me for a few days and for a week before the D.P. Though I am losing interest in studies, I have faith that I shall overcome some day. I have to keep trying. Someone has said- Failures are stepping stone to success.

One of my loves is typing on the computer. I was attracted to it instantly in Class-1 just like fish takes to water. It has made our lives easier. Internet is also a nice time pass, apart from being a wealth of information. While in school, I would search on net for any topic or theme that was given by the teacher to write on or to make an assignment. I would download photos and sketches also to make my home task attractive. But gradually one has realized that too much reliance on computer or net is bad. It may kill original thoughts. It also enables one to take a short cut.

Earlier I had this enjoyable experience of watching videos on You Tube. Now I guess it would not be great to watch videos on you tube. My age is 21 and a half. I have stopped talking to many friends. GOD knows why?

Law is a heavy subject for me as of now. I must fight with the thoughts that I have in my mind. God make me brave. I have sudden mood swings. Reverse counting and straight forward counting is what one doctor told me would cure me. I am experiencing the problem of short term memory. I also have difficulty in remembering places and having overall concentration. I see GODs in elders. My parents always tell me that I will get cured, get a good and reasonable job.

THUMBS UP TASTE THE THUNDER. HAVE IMMENSE FEELING OF MYTHOLOGY INSIDE ME.REGULAR WALKS AND YOGA WOULD HELP.

AN EVENING AT MACHAN

Evening means different things to different people.Some enjoy the solitude, some prefer a brisk walk, still others spend it in the company of near and dear ones. Atmosphere, aura, ambience-these make difference to a dull,drab and sultry place.Boredom is conquered.Even non-appetising meals become sumptuous, delicious, easy to remember. The decoration, frills and a particular way of presentation attract and delight. These help in relaxing, conversing,refreshing and healing. One tends to chill out without a hard drink AND post meal, sink into a bed of mink. Have a sweet dream and what not...........?

An October evening spent at Machan on the top floor of Dona Plaza,Guwahati will be memorable in ways, more than one. They were on time and absolutely prim and proper. While he impressed with his height, purse, physique and overall sense of humour, she sizzled and giggled to a temporary glory. Her curvaceous figure made prominent by a tight red and white dress earned her gazers if not fans during the semi-dark evening. Poses for photo session with a natural smile and grace against the background of animals, antique pieces and look-alikes of natural jungle were extempore and amazing. Same was noticed not once. But several times.......,before the soup, afterwards, before the '7Up' and in course of 'gup-shup'.

The topics and themes were so tantalizing that hunger or lust for food was almost set aside till a gentle reminder came from well dressed waiters and a haggard banquet manager. While waiting for compliance of order, it was observed that a 50 plus crowd was immersed deeply in the semi-dark, light musical backdrop. Like any other place, tiny tots in sufficient numbers were jumping all over. They would occasionally show their tantrums. While their parents relished their own talks and whispers, the kids appeared flavergasted at the sight of electric powered squirrel, birds, python,monkey and elephant.

Lighting was perfect, so were the cutlery and upholstery. Arrangement of chairs and tables was upto mark but food left much to be desired. It was in random but stylish order. There was nothing special about the typical delicasies, the management had promised to serve...........compared to the exorbitant prices shown in block capital letters in a menu card, weighing at least 20 grams.

When the crowd began thinning close to mid-night, we religiously rearrange chairs and tables to facilitate privacy, better relaxation and another bout of fruitful photo session. Soon the incredible view became a setting or nursery for instant creativity. While focusing, adjusting and clicking, we were not paranoid as such, but the very idea of creating something with a fair dose of joy had simply struck in our heads. We were speechless and spell bound with every shot. Two and a half hours spent drinking, sipping, eating and photographing is going to be deep in our thoughts. Afterall, the clock too had come to a stand still.

Towards the end, like a shrewd businessman, the manager promised to improve and add-on till we make another appearance. He displayed an infectious smile while offering us some appetiser. We did not fail in capturing him and his faithful waiters on camera. The grand finale turned out to be a memorable shot of an African tribesman.

Overall it was cozy, not noisy. It was fun and frolic. Not fantasy. In a world, full of ecstasy. The 'couple' added to the charm of the evening by their unusual appearance, conduct, manners and presence of mind.

Walking carefully down the stairs from the fifth floor, I whisper-"Good luck Machan. May you celebrate your second birthday soon. AND I take a plunge together with footfalls of compatriots of the 'couple' from Delhi.

Sunday's Sentiments

Today is Sunday, the Children's Day. Yesterday it rained beautifully. For more than an hour. Day temperature came down by a few degrees. All of us liked. As reported on TV and morning newspapers, even the 'exalted' children- Rahul and Priyanka got wet. They seemed to have enjoyed every bit of the experience.

Rain is always a refreshing feeling. Nevertheless, too much of anything is not only bad, it may be also counter-productive. Did not we see it on the eve of CWG?

While going to Law Centre-1 in the afternoon, I felt the chill. Mummy made no mistake in pulling out an attractive pullover. Initially I thought, on a cool day (not a cold day), I was going to be an odd man out. But, I discovered soon to my pleasant surprise that I was a part and parcel of the bubbling mainstream.

Even though, no classes were held on a a casual day, such as, Saturday, the whole experience was exhilerating. Not only I did some 'Om Chanting', I tried also speaking to birds of the green campus. For the sake of friends, I got a glimpse of some from a distance. Of all the places, they got a refuse in our dirty toilet. However, the sight of ever helpful and reliable Netram made me happy.

Having waited for 1 hour and 30 minutes for the class, it was really nice to meet him. We exchanged useful notes about our first semester examination starting on First December 2010. Time was really short. And I was badly prepared. Therefore, on his advice and Mummy's instructions, I purchased a 'Duky' (D.U.Key), for the Criminal Law paper for Rs.75/-. My feeble bargaining skills ensured me a measurly 'saving' of only Rs. 5/-.

A vegetable pattie and a cup of tea with Netram during the dusk at SPIC-MCKEY became enjoyable. So was the Rick ride for 20 bucks.

When I felt the hustle & bustle and heat of the evening at VV Metro Station, I uttered the following while entering the swanky coach:

"Rain rain, come again
I may be in bus, or train
OR flying over a hilly terrain
I need healing and liberation
From the bouts of...........
Agony, stress and pain. "

AM I NOT ALIVE AND KICKING ?

Over the Red River & the Blue hills

It is an early morning scene in the outskirts of growing city of Guwahati. I am rushing to catch IC-7751 flight to Dimapur and Imphal. Low volume of traffic on the way ensures early arrival at the airport. Tempted, I try my hand at the wheels in the North East for the first time. A lady staffer of Indian Airlines is walking very fast to report for duty. She gets a healthy competition from a male colleague. In view of the fact that there is no other flight, I presume that I am not late. At the entry point, one is subjected to checking of identity twice. It is irritating but can’t be helped. Next, one has to confront a long que at the X-ray baggage machine. Getting past that, one moves to check-in counter. The process is very slow not only for me but also for a family accompanying an old man on a wheel chair. Papers and envelopes held tightly by him give an indication that Iobi Singh has just been discharged by Dispur Hospitals. Soon I notice that display board is showing yesterdays date (31st July 2010). Till 6.12 a.m., no security check is announced. Two policemen, therefore, refuse entry. Finally, we cross the security barrier. Though the departure lounge looks deserted, my joy knows no bounds. After all, this is my maiden visit to Nagaland, the ‘Switzerland of the East’, a land blessed with lush green forests and immense natural beauty.
At 6.15 a.m. two pilots report for duty. The co-pilot happens to be an overweight woman. They are followed by two young and tall air hostesses. Even though the scheduled departure time is 6.30 a.m., the dilapidated and fit for ‘denting and painting’ kind of bus of Indian Airlines arrives late to pick up the passengers. Within five minutes we manage to enter the ATR craft. In no time, the air hostesses see to it that the passengers, including a fat “Sardarji” (making maximum noise) and a hassled housewife(running all over the place), settle down. At 6.42 taxing begins and the mini plane is airborne with a rapid speed, something akin to a Maruti Car, say about 25 years ago. I am fortunate not to have a co-passenger. This particular opportunity and overall solitude is befitting to enable scribbling a few lines for posterity.
The routine welcome announcement indicates that weather is fine and soothing at Dimapur. The hills around Guwahati and the mammoth Brahmaputra look gorgeous. It is water water all over. A few islands and a long river bridge catch attention. As we move up, thin layers of white clouds move like smoke. GCI sheets over roof tops sparkle magnificently in bright sunshine. Dense portions of the largest city of NER are now visible. One cannot see any landmark, however. Green, low hillocks do make a statement. Some of them abound in typical folds, last seen by me during a heli-ride in Tripura. My irresistible visible romance with nature gets a setback on hearing an un welcome announcement pertaining to unfastening of seat belt. Soon my confidence is restored on hearing another announcement commencing serving of breakfast.
When I resume looking through the window, large areas appear inundated. The mighty Brahmaputra gives the appearance of a sea. A few meandering streams give Him company. It appears as if the flying machine is destined to go gently along its course. I have noticed that whenever I am in a mood to write something in plane, I am invariably seated on the left side, an indication, perhaps of my left-tilted, if not left oriented thinking.
When I look further, patterns formed by the paddy fields and tiled huts look beautiful. Not only I am enjoying the beauty outside but get a fair dose inside as well, off and on. While boarding, the plane gave a God for shaken look from outside. Inside now, it looks cool, cosy and comfortable.
At 6.55 a.m., descent begins without any announcement. But there is no trace of the break-fast announced ten minutes ago. I need it badly to gulp four of my tablets to contain blood pressure and regulate heart beat. At last, a pair of tall air hostesses donning new Laheria Sari patterns of red, white and black colours makes an appearance with their trolleys. I look simultaneously at the white clouds with streaks of blue, far behind and the sumptuous looking snack packets. All said and done, Indian Airlines continues to be far better in hospitality than all ‘cheap’ private airlines put together. The breakfast, however, came in installments. First of all water bottles were served. Thereafter, came, a closed tray having three items – a vegetable patty, a twisted biscuit and a thick slice of brown cake with a pouch of sauce. Tea was conspicuous by its absence. The menu was same as I got while taking IC-7756 flight (Agartala - Guwahati) on 8th of July. Even though it is early in the day, I eat nicely and to my heart’s content.
The time is 7.10 hours. The descent is more prominent now. Large water bodies are no longer visible, rather serpentine roads amidst green patches keep appearing. Clouds also hover every now and then. Suddenly my attention is drawn to a coughing passenger behind my row. It came from Iobi Singh, the wheel chair bound old man. Now that Dimapur was not far behind, he must be waiting desperately to get off and immerse himself in his sweet home. When the plane further loses height, one can see small hillocks, a river, a stadium in construction and probably the railway station of Dimapur. The ‘S’ formation of another river attracts. From the colour of its water, one can make out that it has rained heavily up in hills. Oh no, the plane, instead of touching the aerodrome, gains height. Sunrays touch my face. They provide warm, soothing comfort. After five minutes or so descent begins again. One can feel the difference this time, both through eyes and ears. A patch of dense forest is seen. Landing is taking longer than expected. The view on my side of the window gives an impression as if we are gaining height. A look through the right window, on the other hand, brings us closer to the ground. At last at 7.20 hours, the landing announcement is made. For a moment, however, the plane almost stops in the mid air. Flying so low over a green patch has its own advantages. We are fortunate to be in the lap of an eco-friendly zone.
Soon Dimapur having a ground temperature of 28 degree is visible. The scenario described earlier is being repeated. Sharp at 7.25 we have a smooth landing. I presume that Iobi Singh is happier than me. I request for an extra bottle of water. The air hostess obliges with a smile. When I get closer to the terminal building, I notice a thick growth of grass on both sides of pathway. Instead of an airport official guiding me correctly to arrival lounge, it is a security man who does the duty. Again, instead of Airport Authority of India welcoming the passengers, it is a hoarding of SBI which has been allowed to do the honours. Exactly four passengers assemble in the conveyer belt zone. What a waste of aviation fuel and manpower, I think, while trying to locate Takum and Showuba. Soon I find them. While I experience joy, Iobi, perhaps, is still undergoing a bout of sorrow. Getting into a white Bolero (NL-01/C/7082), I see that Captain B.P. Shah is taking him and others to Imphal.

MYSTERY CALLED MIND

It is good to be blessed with an intelligent bent of mind. For creativity, however, high level of intelligence may not be a prerequisite. Nek Chand, the creator of Rock Garden, Chandigarh is a burning example. In the same way, for invention or discovery, one need not have a stereo typed normal brain. Great scientists of the order of Einstein or Newton were not normal children by traditional standards, to start with. Nevertheless, they succeeded in not only impressing the World but they also left a long felt impact on day to day life by their inventions.

At the other extreme, there are scientists, such as, Stephen Hawking who continues to excel despite being inflicted with Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS) in his thirties. Still at another extreme, we have some bright minds, who complete a course at a relatively younger age, but not all of them taste success in tune with their initial prowess. Also many unsung heroes changing the lot of oppressed masses by their silent, yet determined actions do not get noticed.

All said and done, human mind has been always curious to know the background & making of a genius. Such a curiosity has led to long gestation research on cloning, (outcome of which may not have found acceptance). But to ‘programme’ a genius child is rarest of the rare phenomenon. It means initiating the conception process at the right time of the day or night and to have right diet beforehand and mental state (mood).

Prof. Tulsi Narayan Prasad, a Supreme Court Advocate and a serious practitioner of Astro-genetics, whose 20 year old son Dr. Tathagat Avatar Tulsi has become country’s youngest Professor ( of Physics) at IIT, Mumbai, claims to have ‘planned’ for his child well before he was actually born. Soon after his birth, Prof. Prasad had declared that the sex of to be born child could be manipulated. He goes on to add that through the science of eugenics one can ensure that a child will achieve the desired traits.

Tathagat, named among the World’s seven most gifted youngsters in 2003 and hailed widely as a child prodigy, finished high school at the age of nine, B.Sc at the age of ten and M.Sc before experiencing his twelfth spring. His super-intelligence apart, he was confronted with adjustment problems with his peer group. Nevertheless, he was destined to learn the art of pretending to be normal. How he copes up with his bright students now, remains to be observed and researched. An ardent follower of Albert Einstein, his dream is to win a Nobel Prize. Needless to say, his future research has to be keenly followed.

More than anything else, it is the spirit of getting things done with right intentions which matters in the ultimate analysis. Honesty and sincerity have the potential to produce vital and influential force to perform arduous tasks. With proper guidance and impetus even ordinary people can produce extraordinary results. They should not compromise on their zeal and commitment.

MYSTERY CALLED MIND

It is good to be blessed with an intelligent bent of mind. For creativity, however, high level of intelligence may not be a prerequisite. Nek Chand, the creator of Rock Garden, Chandigarh is a burning example. In the same way, for invention or discovery, one need not have a stereo typed normal brain. Great scientists of the order of Einstein or Newton were not normal children by traditional standards, to start with. Nevertheless, they succeeded in not only impressing the World but they also left a long felt impact on day to day life by their inventions.

At the other extreme, there are scientists, such as, Stephen Hawking who continues to excel despite being inflicted with Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS) in his thirties. Still at another extreme, we have some bright minds, who complete a course at a relatively younger age, but not all of them taste success in tune with their initial prowess. Also many unsung heroes changing the lot of oppressed masses by their silent, yet determined actions do not get noticed.

All said and done, human mind has been always curious to know the background & making of a genius. Such a curiosity has led to long gestation research on cloning, (outcome of which may not have found acceptance). But to ‘programme’ a genius child is rarest of the rare phenomenon. It means initiating the conception process at the right time of the day or night and to have right diet beforehand and mental state (mood).

Prof. Tulsi Narayan Prasad, a Supreme Court Advocate and a serious practitioner of Astro-genetics, whose 20 year old son Dr. Tathagat Avatar Tulsi has become country’s youngest Professor ( of Physics) at IIT, Mumbai, claims to have ‘planned’ for his child well before he was actually born. Soon after his birth, Prof. Prasad had declared that the sex of to be born child could be manipulated. He goes on to add that through the science of eugenics one can ensure that a child will achieve the desired traits.

Tathagat, named among the World’s seven most gifted youngsters in 2003 and hailed widely as a child prodigy, finished high school at the age of nine, B.Sc at the age of ten and M.Sc before experiencing his twelfth spring. His super-intelligence apart, he was confronted with adjustment problems with his peer group. Nevertheless, he was destined to learn the art of pretending to be normal. How he copes up with his bright students now, remains to be observed and researched. An ardent follower of Albert Einstein, his dream is to win a Nobel Prize. Needless to say, his future research has to be keenly followed.

More than anything else, it is the spirit of getting things done with right intentions which matters in the ultimate analysis. Honesty and sincerity have the potential to produce vital and influential force to perform arduous tasks. With proper guidance and impetus even ordinary people can produce extraordinary results. They should not compromise on their zeal and commitment.