FLEETING TIME

Time has this unique quality of going, even before one realises -the moment is lost. It is fleeting and it actually waits for no man.

Yet, how we are capable of frittering away time. Those moments lost in sulking, grumbling, feeling sorry for oneself. Those moments spent in self pity, anger, resentment go away as quickly as those happy moments spent with a loved one. All that remains are memories - memories where we re- live our past. Those happy moments keep coming back to us and remind us that the time that has gone was really good. Was it? Or is it just the memory of that moment which is good?

Every moment, every breath that we take is good. Every day is bright and beautiful, it is what we make of the day and how we spend the day that makes our memories sweet or sad.

Even if the day looks gloomy, dark and dismal, does the smile of a little baby not make the day bright and beautiful? We remember the laughter and the time spent with the little baby and not the dark and dismal day. The weather is of least importance when we are happy and love the company that we have. Yet, how often do we look out and grumble that the day is looking so dismal. That sets our tone for the day. If we start the day fresh, happily and cheerfully we will be happy that we have another day to spend as we want to spend it. The day is free. It is for us to make the most of it. We can create memories , live joyfully, spread cheer and warmth.

Why that grumpy face? Why that sitting in a corner, why should we not enjoy the joy of living? If we share what we have, whatever we have, goodness, kindness, smiles, they all come back magnified manifold. They are returned to us expanded.

Sitting in a corner all by myself, I will remain aloof and alone, as no one will want to enter my private zone of melancholy and solitude that I have chosen. If I am happy my happiness will draw people to me.

Spread cheer, friendship, compassion and see the spread of joy. Life is too short for petty bitterness and misunderstandings. Clear the path as you go. Clear doubts, speak up and remove all cobwebs. Let life go by happily. Let us make the world a better place, not a bitter place.

Let us live today - happily and leave memories for posterity.

Aadarsh- 1st Birthday

Aadarsh

You little boy with the most beautiful smile.

You enchant people with your countenance,

No one who sees you can remain aloof from you,

You have the patience to wait and then call out,

To the person who is not talking to you,

Murarilal? Yes indeed you are like Anand in the film Anand.

That person in the lift,

That stranger on the road,

That person too busy with himself,

Avoiding looking at you,

Can they be allowed to go away,without being greeted by you?

Impossible...

You have to make contact,

You have to call out,

Didn't Daddy always do that?

Didn't he always want to connect with the poorest of the poor,

That person sitting alone,

That person on the street,

That person who did not repay his kindness,

That person who was ungrateful,

That one who pestered him for help,but did not stop by to say thank you,

Are you going to have this trait?

Will you befriend people justlike that,

Go out of your way to help people,

Not expect a thank you or gratitude,

Just spread happiness?

If that is all you want to do,then,

Go on take the legacy forward,

That was the wealth that my dad had,

That is your heritage,

That is what you have received in inheritance.

Move forward little bundle of joy,

your shoulders are strong,

your smile is mesmerising,

your face is brilliant,and,

Your future is enlightened.

UNIQUE MUMBAI Part II.

Mumbai is the city of dreams,the city of riches and the city where the stars live on terra firma. It was my destination for the umpteenth time. This time I wanted to see some thing new, something different and something unique.
My first destination therefore was the Jehangir Art Gallery at Kala Ghoda. Fascinating, beautiful paintings by a French artist were on display. The paintings were of rustic India, as well as of small towns, where one sees colourful display of goods, in markets. There was one particular painting of sacks which caught our attention . It was very colourful and eye catching.It was very detailed and realistic. It almost looked like a photograph-each thread of jute on the sack was depicted so very precisely. The different folds and the play of light and shadow were really brilliant. We were spell bound by its sheer artistry and beauty.The novices that we were, as far as pricing was concerned, we tried to guess the price of this one in particular. Could we have been any where close to the price? No way, we were way off. We could not go higher than Rs. 1.5 lacs. In reality it was Rs. 33,50,000/- My first lesson on art was learnt.
Then it was time for lunch at “Samovar” the restaurant attached to the Gallery. This was another unique experience. The place looks more like a passage, occupying only 700 sq. feet. But it has a long history of artists and film stars visiting it. Amitabh and Jaya had their first date here and Kabir Bedi married Protima here. It was started about 45 years ago by Usha Khanna, who is also the mother of Malvika Sanghvi and Devika Bhojwani. This restaurant is in the Jehangir Art Gallery at what is still called Kala Ghoda.It boasts no gourmet dishes, only healthy home-cooked stuff and freshly squeezed fruit juices. Everything was at very reasonable prices. It was a favourite place of M F Hussain, Anjolie Ela Menon, and R K Laxman, besides many other famous people.
The ambiance and the history of the place was fascinating. There was a feeling of being very comfortable and satisfied. There was no hurry and no hassle. It seemed as though time was at one’s bidding. I enjoyed my lunch and the ambiance and its history.
Next on my list was a visit to Chor bazaar. Chor bazaar is located on Mutton Street in Bhindi Bazaar. To find Chor Bazaar, one has to venture right into the thick of Muslim Mumbai, in the busy market area between S V Patel and Moulana Shaukat Ali Roads, near Mohammad Ali Road in South Mumbai. The closest local railway station is Grant Road. Mumbai has this unique style of nomenclature for places. While on the one hand one has Nal Bazaar, Bhindi Bazaar, Tardeo, Kala Ghoda, Dhobi talav, Lohar Street, Gowalia Tank, Bara Handi, which clearly indicate the business that is or was carried out there, other names are such which will keep one wondering about its origins. Sion, Sewri, Malad, Mulund, Parel,Versova, Juhu, are a few that I recall instantly. Can’t make head or tail out of these names.
There were interesting stories about Chor Bazaar which I had heard, one was that if one walks into the Bazaar with a bike in hand, when you emerge you are left holding only the handle and the rest of the bike is already being sold somewhere else in that very market. Therefore with much awe, anticipation and fascination we went looking for Mutton Street. We found it and were taken to another world of yore. Old Furniture, with beautiful dressers, hat stands, easy chairs that one saw in Railway Stations, with nice cane work, were available in plenty. There was also a meat safe with the name of some Parsi gentleman labeled on it. These were safe net cupboards, where food stuff was stored, when every house did not have a fridge.
There were beautiful stately grandfather clocks, as well as other pendulum clocks which were obviously quite old. There were some Railway station clocks which were obviously replicas. They were all new.
There were lovely old Hindi film posters for sale. Quite eye catching and looked of some vintage.
There were old photographs in old frames. Beautiful artifacts, figurines which looked old, crockery, cutlery were all being sold. It was an afternoon well spent. Looking around, haggling, bargaining, and in the end emerging without buying anything!! That, perhaps was the best.
My brother had carried his camera, but hid it in the car under the seat, remembering the story of the bike and handle. We did not want to experience the real Chori.
Chor bazaar at one time must have been a market where stolen goods were bought and sold-but today it is a market for antiques, some may be real and some would be replicas.
Next on my list was driving around Colaba. It was sheer bliss to drive in that area on a Sunday afternoon. The quiet, the buildings and the architecture are magnificent. The place seems to say, "Hush, we are from an era gone by, yet we serve you still, in all our majesty". Those buildings of the High Court, The University, The BMC, VT, The Asiatic Library, The 1857 Memorial opposite VT, all these make one feel so humble. The majesty of the buildings seems to give the message that there will be nothing but justice here. There will be equality, because in front of those daunting buildings,all humans would surely appear small and equal. These buildings are so awesome!! Actually, awe inspiring. I feel like saluting the makers of the building, the designers of the lay out and those who left these for posterity. Pillars which show strength and space. Beautiful Mumbai, unique Mumbai, I can understand why one who comes here never wants to go back.

My trip down Unique, different, Mumbai was good. I have left a lot for my next trip, as I have to keep on adding to it. Its uniqueness will remain intact and hold my interest forever.

FANATICS & INTOLERANCE

Fanaticism is not confined to any one particular sect, culture, religion or region of the world. Fanatics abound everywhere. Often we meet them everyday and yet do not know about their views, unless we come face to face with some strange behaviour of theirs.

Recently at a small get together, I found out how orthodox, fanatic, or extreme some people can be even in today's day and age. My friend I discovered does not eat in a house where non vegetarian food is cooked. Even if things are cooked separately, the thought that it was cooked in the same kitchen is enough to make her feel revolted!! Another friend mentioned that even if a mithai(sweet meat) is made in the shape of a fish her mother would not eat it. The thought was that the traits of the fish would have entered the mithai, as the thought of the maker was on the fish!! Biscuits and cookies made in the shape of animals were taboo too, as the taseer(traits) of those animals would enter into those cookies. Her daughter who lives in the USA does not allow non vegetarian food to be cooked in the house and no one can bring non vegetarian food from outside and eat in her crockery. The word "meat", "chicken" and "beef" cannot even be uttered by them. My friend was speaking with great pride about these taboos. "Amazing"...is a mild word....I can't find a better word to describe this absurd, unreasonable, intolerant thought. I was flabbergasted to know that people who travel and visit the Western world, live in a metropolitan city like Delhi, and appear to be well educated can still exist in today's world with this sort of an attitude. How can one be so intolerant?

What can one say when there are sects which teach this sort of intolerance, separatism and standing out attitude? Fanatics are the bane of society. It takes us blindfolded in a direction where reason has no place. Like sheep one is herded in a direction, which may not always be in the best interest of the herd. Intelligent human beings with brains to think, education to rationalise, and the vision to see, understand and evolve are turned into mechanical robots who are only capable of taking orders without thinking, are incapable of making their own judgements and are unable to take their own decisions. This is what makes the world a very difficult and strife ridden place for a lot of other people.

This kind of attitude keeps the hierarchical system of society alive. A superiority complex is developed which encourages inequality. A human being is a human being, irrespective of the food he eats, the life he lives, or the vocation he has. Irrespective of the religion he follows, the caste he is or the gender to which he/she belongs. Why do some religions and sects teach and propagate this attitude of discrimination? Differences, intolerance, treating different people as pariahs all speak of discrimination. It also helps in gender based discrimination with superiority complex of men, who think of women as nothing but stupid, silly, extravagant, and objects to be made fun of. How can we become better people with happy thoughts and love and compassion for everyone, when a lot of people are being led blind folded towards a life of intolerance??

Most religions have these extreme fanatics who propagate intolerance, injustice and blind faith. It is time one woke up to use ones higher intelligence capacity to think, reason and grow into people who are not followers of a cult and blind faith, which leads to intolerance. A world which is equal, free and tolerant. Where a human being is a human being, and is loved and respected for being just that.

I, ME AND MYSELF

"Khudi ko kar buland itna, ki har tadbeer se pehle,

Khuda bande se khud pooche, bata teri raza kya hai?"

It means that your own self should be in that exalted position that God himself will have to ask you your consent before deciding anything for you

Beautiful words, meaningful words, very very wise words!!! Did it cross your mind, how much importance has been given to the Self? "Khud"(self) and "Khuda"(God) - are they the same?Look within yourself and the answer will be given to you - again the word - "within yourself". Is it all within each one of us to aspire and receive? Are we the most powerful? Is it all within me to aspire, dream and get my wishes fulfilled? Why are we then directing our prayers elsewhere? Can I not see that my thoughts take me where I want to go? Failure, success, achievement, accident, coincidence, are we the perpetrators for each one of our own action and its result? One person always achieves and another always misses the bus. One person is called accident prone, another doesn't lift a finger and gets everything effortlessly!! Has this not been an observation that each one of us has made?
Recently I met a person who is a successful businessman, and has built a business empire for himself. He was a refugee after partition of India and used to make a living selling combs and pens, to begin with. He can virtually be traced to that film "Muqaddar ka Sikander", where Amitabh Bachchan starts off as a boot shine and then becomes very rich. TNN wanted to know, what happened and why did this man succeed, while there are millions of others who end up very close to where they started. It set me thinking. Hard work, risk taking ability and the sheer determination to succeed, come what may, took this man from where he started to where he is today. There was and there is no need for a benefactor, or a windfall, or a godfather. It's all within a person. His own self took this person higher and higher. No one can stop a man with a will to succeed. No God, demon, or human can stall the progress of a man with a firm determination and desire to achieve.

Look within, the power is yours. Seek within and vision is yours. Listen to your inner self and your decision will be right. Have we not heard all these words of wisdom? Can we not isolate them, study them, believe in them and let our minds soar to the pinnacle of achievement and success. Why do we let a lot of other thoughts warp our judgement? Values, traditions, rituals, Religion imposed upon us, needs to be examined rationally. Once upon a time they may have been needed- but today-do we still need those rules which were made for a different time and a different group of people, who were still trying to find their feet in the world? Do they hold good even today? I have noticed a vast difference in the people around me in the last one year. Life style, goals, dress sense, attitudes, money power, number of cars, types of cars, TV programmes, movies, music, everything has changed tremendously. The only constant factor seems to be our belief in rituals, dogmas, and obsolete traditions. It is time that we let our mind go free to think, explore, and decide our future course of action. Life will be much better and the world will be a better place to live in. We have one life and in this time span available to us, we need to do our bit to leave this world better than what it was when we were born. If we do not contribute for development of our mind, then we will be nothing but spent force which exists, but does not really live. Let us live, love, laugh, and make the world a better place.

GOING BACK TO ROOTS

Going back to your roots is a journey which has to be experienced. It fills one with anticipation, hope, and a strange feeling of going back to your origins.
Recently, on my way to the tiny hamlet of Kurud, in the backward Naxal infested district of Gadchiroli, in Maharashtra, I was filled with these feelings. This was not my first visit, I have been to Kurud a number of times. Kurud is about 130 kms away from Nagpur which is also called “Orange City”, because of its oranges.
My father was born in this village in 1924. The village has since grown, the house which was majestic at one time, with a gate like a palace and called a “wada,” is today nothing but ruins. All those prosperous Uke’s have left home, gone away, settled in big cities, built palatial houses, and have forgotten that place and that house which was so lovingly made by Gomaji Uke. The gates and the house which taught them to stand with their head held high, has been left to dilapidate. The house seems to have gone with those who once lived, loved, and laughed in that house.
I was left with a feeling of sorrow. Is this what happens eventually? Do we simply move on? Does that house built by my ancestors with love, diligence, hard work, need to turn into a ruin? Can we not let it stand with its head held high, talking about those who have their roots there? The vibrations of those people, the desire, the hope, the dreams, and the vision of going forward, needs to be felt by those who are the inheritors today. There needs to be a place where future generations can go and look with awe at that simple village and that beautiful house which housed people with a vision. Our future generations need to have a place which will let them feel the sense of belonging that I have for that place. They need to appreciate the history behind their family, and visualize how visions and dreams can come true. It would be nice for them to know those people who were responsible for making us what we are today. Our genes, our traits, our nature and our behavior are patterned on someone or the other who once lived in that “wada”.
When people migrate from their homes, they become refugees, they are displaced. They have to find roots in strange places and yet always want to go back and see where they came from. It is after all only a plot of land, in some part of the world, yet the desire to go back and see that place is always there. Is it the homing instinct? I have been trying to understand this strange feeling and explain to myself this desire. Why?? What do I get when I stand on the grounds of that ruined dilapidated house? What do I feel when I stand on those paddy fields, where stood my grandmother Renuka, replanting paddy with many others, singing her songs? Where stood my grandfather watching over his ever growing fields?

I am amazed at my feelings. I, who have travelled a lot all over the world, and seen a lot of places from the book, “1000 places to see before you die”. I travel so much that my daughter’s friends ask if I work in the airlines!! Why does this small village fascinate me so much? Why do I keep going back there?
Kurud is such a picturesque village along the beautiful Wainganga River. There is a railway bridge over the river. The nearest railway station is 3 miles or 5 kms away. The railway station is called Wadsa.This small town has another name- Desaiganj, after a Collector who was once posted there. Today Wadsa has grown. When I went to Kurud, as a child, we had to travel by the narrow gauge train from Nagpur. From Wadsa we went by bullock cart to Kurud. Bullock carts were pretty. Some were covered, and some were open. We were always transported by the covered ones. The bullocks were tall, beautiful and good looking animals, with beautiful horns, the tips of which were usually adorned with brass ornaments. The covers of the cart too were beautifully crafted. We went patiently, slowly and steadily, over dirt tracks and deeply ridged roads. No comfort of smooth roads and comfortable cushions and no shock absorbers.
On arrival at the “wada”, we were met by my grandfather, who was always seen with a safa(head dress), and my grandmother with a huge nath(nose ring). She used to sit right in the center of the hallway, on an easy chair. There was a small kitchen, dark, with a small door, so one always entered with the head bowed. There were stairs going up, where the grain was stored. Ours was a family of kashtakars-or farmers. Land was what my grandfather bought in plenty. He was wise and invested wisely.
My father was the third son. He showed a penchant for studying, so my grandfather educated him. Dad asked his father to educate him up to the primary level and said that he would himself take care of his higher education. Middle school, High School, the Matriculation examination, graduation, and engineering degree from England were all on merit scholarship. There was no stopping this little boy who could not pronounce some words clearly as a child - he used to lisp then.
People move away-my dad went away for work. He never lived in Maharashtra, as his work took him far and wide all over India. We three children never lived in Kurud, except as guests - yet what draws us there over and over again?
I wonder, yes I wonder!!
Kurud had a big lake, where everyday one of my cousins would go to wash the clothes of the family. On my visit to Kurud I would accompany her. Almost all the girls of the neighborhood would be there, washing, chatting and giggling. They would dry the clothes, fold them and then go back home. It was their own time out, a socializing time. Boys would go out with the cows to graze them. There were huge cauldrons with special food or “chara” which was fed to the bullocks every morning. The bullocks were tied in their sheds, near the baithak. They would keep chewing their cud all the time. They had bells in their necks and were much loved animals. In the morning water was filled from wells for drinking. We had a well right in front of our house. Water was heated and given to us for bathing. Geysers? What was that?
Families were joint, daughters – in - law were given different duties. Each person had assigned tasks, which it was their duty to complete. The house worked like a cohesive unit. Elders were respected, family was united, and children grew up together. There was a firm hand ruling the roost. There was a book called the “Pandav Pratap”, wherein a record was kept of all the births and deaths of family members.
Simple folk, great folk, history of me- is that what draws me there?
I still wonder!!!