My wish for you.

As time passes faster, I look at the passing scene,
A train journey, sitting on the steps of the compartment,
Looking at the paddy fields of the Terai region,
Villages, hamlets, towns and bridges,
Beautiful, picturesque, colorful, vibrant,
My journey full of life,chugging at full speed,
Stopping, moving, going ahead fast, faster, faster,
I have loved all the stops,
I have enjoyed meeting people,
Some good, some bad and some, Oh!so indifferent,
Some were nice, some were mean, some were very vengeful,
Yet all those whom I met are a part of my life,
My memory, my learning experience,
Life, I love you,
People in my life, you make my life worth it,
I wish each one of you a great year, a happy year, a lot of colour, vibrance, love
And above everything else,
MAY ALL YOUR dreams come true,
May all your wishes be fulfilled,
May 2012 bring you immense happiness!

AS THE YEAR ENDS...SOME THOUGHTS!

When things are good we don't realise that nothing comes free in this world. Even the breath that we inhale needs us to exhale. If we do not give but only take, then we are likely to spoil goodwill and generate imbalance. It is very easy to hurt someone, to cause misunderstandings, and to build up reservoirs of resentment which lead to strained relationships.

One keeps harbouring ill feelings and building up barriers. We seldom talk and clear misunderstandings. Our own thoughts keep on putting up one barrier after another, until we completely move very far away from some people, without there actually being any real reason for building up that barrier. One has to actually forgive and forget. Not forgiving a person for something that could just be a misunderstanding keeps on hurting us forever, as we keep reminding ourselves of that hurt. If I forgive that offender of "once", I will move on free of that burden of pain, and misery. We are the ones who harm our own self. The power to attain happiness and move on in life is within our own self. No one hurts me, no one harms me, it is I alone who is responsible.  We have the power to brood over sad thoughts or move on. Moving on is best because a rolling stone gathers no moss!

Dwelling on the past, takes us back to the same old street of pain.  Old hurts need time to heal. Even if a scar remains, at least the hurt has gone.

Forgiving opens up large vistas of freedom from suffering, pain and resentment. I remember the words of my father, who was a great forgiver. He always said "forgive them, because they are ignorant". Then I always used to argue with him, and say why should you forgive? If someone has harmed you, there is no need to forgive that person. Dad would not argue with me but would leave me with that thought. Now, I realise that it is magnanimous to forgive, and we human beings, have great capacity to do what we wish to do. Faith moveth mountains. Have faith in your own self and sure enough you will be able to move that mountain of hatred, venom, grudge, fear and feeling of inadequacy and failure from yourself.

Once free of these incapacitating feelings, one can always find a place of sunshine, happiness, brightness and enjoy life, as it is meant to be enjoyed.

LATA-MY FRIEND

I wish you could read what I wrote for you ae dost,

I will miss you, I can't tell you how much mere dost.

You were me, I could see myself in you,

You were me, I could relate to you,

You have taken me away from my own self,

I will miss what  you have taken away with you,

My laughter, my funny soul,

My jovial friend,

My support, my strength, my little guardian angel,

You were my refuge,

The one who gave me shelter in times of distress,

 You took me under your wing in times of my stress,

Did you know it's been 36 long years my friend?

Today I look at you and cherish your friendship.

Your laughter, your calling out to me,

Varsha, kab aayegi? Aa ja na!

Lata, I will miss you everyday of my life,

Lata, my soulmate,

Remain with me in a corner of my heart.

I will enshrine your memory and your infectious laughter,

Mere dost, you were with me, always,

You will still be with me in my heart forever! 

MEMORIES DO NOT WITHER AWAY!

It was the year 1970. I was very naive when I got married and moved to Bangalore where my husband called TNN, was employed with Hindustan Aeronautics Ltd.

I had never cooked or learnt how to look after a house. As my father was in a transferable job and busy with building the modern temples of India, we were posted in far off places with almost no good school facilities. To begin with we were at Hirakud Dam Project in Orissa. At the age of five, I followed a girl called Shashi Aggarwal, and was admitted to St Joseph's Convent in Cuttack which was about 280 kilometers away from Hirakud. I stayed in the Boarding House. Ever since then up to my Graduation, I remained in Boarding Schools.

During school holidays when I went home, I never ventured into the kitchen area. My mother would teach me embroidery, knitting and such other beautiful skills, in which I had more interest.

When I landed up in Bangalore after marriage, I was happy to see that my husband had taken a pretty little house on rent in the posh area of Sankey Tank at Upper Palace Orchard. He took me around the house showing me the place and then finally took me into the kitchen and showed me a beautiful cupboard where there was a box filled with chocolates that I loved. I was totally floored! It was then that I saw something else. There were rows of neat boxes full of various things which are needed in a kitchen. I was aghast, bewildered, shocked, scared and what other word have you, to describe my plight!

I had reached my Waterloo, so soon in life!

Not having a single clue about how to go about it, I decided to wait and see how things went from there. I did not even know how to make tea. My culinary skills were limited to only boiling rice and an egg! That was the end of my cooking story! My marriage was what people call a "love marriage" and we had known each other for almost 3 years, so I owned up. For a couple of days we went exploring the various eating joints in this pretty city. Our favourite haunts were Brigade Road, Commercial Street and MG Road. Sometimes the Railway Station too saw us frequenting the Railway Restaurant, where good chicken biryani was served at a reasonable price. Finally Dooms Day arrived and TNN bought a recipe book and said let's start cooking at home. We decided on making aloo and roti. I realised that kneading the dough was extremely difficult. I would first add flour, then water, then flour, more water until finally there were lots of tears also shed. We finally settled for rice and aloo sabzi.

As time passed I learnt from a Gujarati friend how to cook a simple meal.

Those days TNN would leave for office around 8 am. He used to walk up to the main road from where he would catch the HAL Chartered bus. One day immediately after TNN left the house, the bell rang. I thought TNN must have left something behind, but instead I found a man with a basket of roses in his hand. He said that he was a gardener and was selling those rose cuttings. He told me that the sahab who had just left, had seen him around the corner and told him to give the plants to me for Rs. 30. In those days Rs. 30 was a princely sum, as my dear husband earned Rs. 600 only. He was a Management Trainee in the prestigious HAL. I was delighted to realise that my husband knowing my love for gardening had arranged for rose cuttings to be delivered to me. I, the young, naive, silly girl with stars in my eyes was really impressed. I quickly brought out the Rs. 30 and sent the gardener off. I then lovingly planted the cuttings in my tiny garden. In the evening when TNN came home, I thanked him profusely for his kind gesture. He was surprised and then after seeing the cuttings of roses, my endevour to plant them, my fast parting with the money and my abject stupidity at getting so easily duped, sent him into a delightful uncontrolled bout of laughter!

To this day even after 41 years of marriage, of which 30 years were spent working for the prestigious State Bank of India in a Senior management position, I am still laughed at for my abject naivety!

Oh! The innocence of youth!

These  memories were secretly tucked away safely in my mind's safe deposit vault, and have been brought out today to share some anecdotes with you.

FRIENDS!

Friends are those, whom you choose,

Friends are those, whom you use,

Come rain, shine, hail or snow,

Your friend will always to your wishes bow,

Your friend will never let you feel alone,

A friend's mind is like your own clone.

A true friend is a rare breed,

Never let them go, never let them be freed,

Your love, your support, your being,

Everything is for that friend, who means a lot to you,

Cherish friendship, see the bond grow,

Friends are rare, so do take care,

Your friend is actually your own reflected self,

Be honest, be true, and enjoy your friendship till kingdom come!

MEHRAULI OR MEHRAWALI!

QUTAB MINAR

The oldest part of Delhi which has continuously been inhabited for the last one thousand years is Mehrauli. The best known structure in this area is the Qutab Minar which was built in the 12th Century during the rule of the Slave Dynasty. My fondest memories of Qutab Minar are associated with my favourite film stars Dev Anand and Nutan. A very beautiful song "Dil ka bhanwar kare pukar" was picturised within the narrow confines of the stairs of the Minar. Romance oozed out of this song due to the extremely stylish Dev Anand and the beautiful, charming and naughty Nutan.

I find history very interesting, and walks are very exciting. I discovered that walks to historical places are organised by "Delhi Heritage Walks"and I decided to spend a beautiful Sunday morning going on a Discovery trail with them. Our guide knew a lot, and described the place very well. The walk that I took was in the "Mehrauli  Archaeological Garden" where one watches one's step carefully as one could be treading over the tomb of some  person of either the Slave, Lodi or Mughal dynasty. This place is full of ruins, and one walks over a lot of history.  I was quite amazed to see the tombs, ruins, mosque and baoli(well) located inside this park. Raja Anangpal   the Gujjar King from Kannauj constructed the Lal Kot around 731 AD. Prithvi Raj Chauhan of Sanyogita fame further expanded it and called it Qila Rai Pithora.

Then Mohd Ghori of Afghanistan invaded, conquered and left behind his representative, his slave, Qutab ud din Aiback in charge of Delhi. The Slave dynasty thus started. They built the Qutab Minar. Razia Sultan belonged to this dynasty. This area was later called Mehrauli.

BALBAN'S TOMB

The first tomb that I saw in this Archaeological garden was that of Balban who ruled for almost 40 years in the 13th century. Before him there were a number of rulers who ruled for short durations.  Balban ruled continuously and ruthlessly. Balban's  tomb is now in ruins, but one can see from the ruins that once upon a time the mausoleum must  indeed have been majestic. His son's tomb is also close by and there are some blue tiles and a little bit of beautiful design on the walls. The roof does not exist. Either it is time which has taken its toll or vandals who have removed the embellishments or even the stones and bricks. Ibn Battuta, the Moroccan traveler who visited Delhi about 40 years after Balban mentions this tomb in his account as a shrine where “all debtors who entered it had their debts discharged, and if a man who had killed another took refuge there ,the Sultan bought him pardon from the friends of the deceased.”

As one walks on we can see the newly excavated ruins which show us the way people lived then. There are foundations and walls of rooms with niches for keeping the lamps for lighting up the place.

JAMAL KAMALI TOMB-ROOF

One moves on to an enclosed area which is kept under lock and key. This is the tomb of a Sufi poet called Shaikh Fazalullah. His pen name was Jamali. He lived during the times of Sikandar Lodi, Babur and Humayun. His tomb is called Jamali Kamali. It is a beautifully maintained tomb, square in shape.  Kamali was an unknown person but was associated with Jamali and his antecedents have not been established. Their names are tagged together as "Jamali Kamali"  as  they are buried adjacent to each other.

JAMALI KAMALI TOMB

There is a mosque adjacent to the tomb. The mosque and tomb were constructed between  1528-1529 but Jamali was buried in the tomb in 1535. This tomb has a flat roof which is plastered and beautifully decorated.  I was surprised to see Rangoli patterns on the panels of the wall. One normally associates Rangoli with the area South of the Vindhyas. The main colours used here are red and blue with some Koranic inscriptions and very beautiful patterns. This tomb is worth a visit. The place is kept under lock and key as a few years ago there was an agitation to reclaim the mosque for conducting prayers. 

  Another tomb in this complex is that of Quli Khan, who was the brother of Adham Khan and the son of  Maham Anga the wet nurse of Akbar.

Sir Thomas Metcalfe the Last British Resident in Delhi during the rule of the last Mughal emperor Bahadur Shah Zafar II, purchased a lot of land in the  Mehrauli area. A number of tombs were located within the area purchased by him.  He converted the tomb of Quli Khan into his Residence and called it Dilkusha.  He made a Boat House by diverting streams of water to make a tank which was used for boating and swimming. Steps built from the boathouse lead to his residence.  He also built, in “pseudo Mughal” style, a Chhatri or a folly with a dome and arches,  which  was surrounded by a sprawling landscaped garden. The central hall of the tomb of Quli Khan was converted into a dining hall. Two wings were added as annexes. He also converted some of the old buildings around the tomb into guesthouse, staff quarters and stables It is also recorded that  Metcalfe,  spent a lot of time at this place during his 40 years in Delhi.

METCALFE'S FOLLY!

In Metcalfes words,"The ruins of grandeur that extend for miles on every side fill it with serious reflection.The palaces crumbling into dust... the myriads of vast mausoleums, every one of which was intended to convey to futurity the deathless fame of its cold inhabitant, and all of which are now passed by, unknown and unnoticed. These things cannot be looked at with indifference."

There is another beautiful construction in this area which is quite different from tombs and actually is all about life. It is the "Rajon ki baoli" or the well of the Masons. These are subterranean water bodies and is actually a  huge step well. There are many floors as one goes down and there are rooms on every floor. With the water table of  Delhi having gone down this has now become a "sookhi(dry) baoli".

RAJON KI BAOLI(STEPPED WELL)

Delhi has always fascinated me and after seeing these majestic ruins which tell the tale of long- long ago, I could almost see apparitions of people going about the business of murder, plunder, intrigue and the change of rulers from one dynasty to another.

Delhi is replete with history, rulers, dynasties, and beautiful structures. Sadly, these structures only pay tribute to the dead, they are mostly tombs!

GRATITUDE

MY SECOND BIRTHDAY

Sitting in a room with my mother, I reflect upon life.
Life has come a full circle.
My mother looked after me, she made me what I am.
Today I look after her, as best as I can.
My values, my beliefs, my destination, me....all molded by my parents.
Had my parents not put me in the school that I went to, I would have been different.
Had they not told me that I have to stand on my own two feet, I would have been different.
Had they not insisted that in this wide world I have to find my own niche, I would have been lost.
Had they not provided me with food, education, values, and the direction to follow the right path, I would have been different.

Today, when I see her, still trying to show me the path, I marvel at how much a parent does for their children.
I hope all children would realise that had it not been for parents sacrifices we would not have been enjoying our life, as we do today.
Time goes by.life goes by, we move on.
Spend some time to reflect upon all those who made you what you are today.
Instead of remembering those who harmed us and gave us grief, let us remember those who made us laugh, who lit our way.
Those who rejoiced with us,those who put up with us.
Those who loved us with all our faults.
Those who stood by us come what may.
Say thank you while you can.
Feel grateful while you can.
Show them your love, while you can.

I with my grand daughters and mother

CHAITALI!

My life would not have been the same without my daughter Chaitali.

Daughters are a mothers dream come true. What a woman could not achieve in her life, she wants her daughter to achieve.

A daughter fills the home with a lot of cheer, colour, music, noise and tantrums. She twists her father around her little finger. All her desires have to be fulfilled, all her needs are 'essential'. She knows what she wants and how she can get it!

What would the world be without these cute little people who make a tired mother feel refreshed with a cute little hug from her daughter?

Chaitali has always been a pillar of strength. My biggest support and trouble shooter.

Little girls with frilly skirts,ribbons and lots of bangles on their arms always bring the picture of Chaitali in front of my eyes.

Mummy, I want this, that and the other! 

A girl who started baking cakes from scratch at the age of eight and fought tooth and nail with me because she did not want to simply be a graduate. She wanted something more. Always a rebel....she had her way and joined a three year programme of Interior Design. This degree has remained simply a degree as she has like the jing bang crowd actually signed up for a three year course of Management at London. She has become a bureaucrat and works for the Greater London Authority, where she is very popular. As in school in Delhi she has still retained her image in London as the "smiling captain"!

Her daughter Aaliya is another chip of the block. She too is pretty, fond of baking and a typical girlie girl!

The way Chaitali disciplines her children, makes me look at her with astonishment. I was never that strict, I think.

One of her sentences which I like very much is, "Which part of that sentence did you not understand!"

I see myself reflected in my daughter. She is surely a much improved version of me, yet she is me.

She has been a little mother ever since she was a baby. Always taking charge of things, always being responsible, always caring for everyone. She has given very generously to everyone, her time, her love, her care and concern.She has been a good friend and runs to offer her shoulder to anyone who is in distress,without thinking about her own self.

She has been the most generous in loving stray dogs and puppies. Her ambition in life was to be a vet. Here again I had put my foot down, quite strongly. All the stray dogs and puppies in the neighbourhood and at her bus stop were her adopted family. At the age of eight she sneaked a little puppy into my house, because I was very adamant and refused to keep a pet. Nutty as that little puppy was called later on went all the way to Hyderabad from Chandigarh when I was transferred.

Chaitali a very loving, caring and beautiful girl makes me feel very proud to be her mother.

Thank you dear girl, thanks for coming into my life and making it so beautiful, colourful and lively. 

FATHER! MY FATHER!

WITH HIS GREAT GRAND DAUGHTER.

WITH HIS GREAT GRAND SON.

I don't believe in rebirth, re incarnation or an after life.

I believe that when a person dies he simply dies. He leaves a void in the lives of those with whom he was bound. He physically ceases to exist.

Yet I believe that my father, who died five years ago this day, lives on. He lives with me, because he has touched me with his thought. He has taught us, moulded us, and guided us. Every step that I take was because he taught me how to walk.

Each deed, each philosophy that I have, has his thought as the basis. I took up writing in a rather serious way, on the day that my father died .It is rather strange, but out of my immense grief, I found words of anguish to express myself. My father had the art of writing. His writing was beautiful. The matter that he wrote was always worth emulating. I used to be amazed at his beautiful English. He, who had studied in village schools, could write very beautiful English.

He loved to collect books. He loved to spend money on buying good books. Reading them was a big task. He read with a lot of attention. He actually studied the book. Not a single page would go untouched by his red pencil. Not a single margin went without his red noting.

Even the newspaper was read with interest. Each newspaper had cuttings, noting, red pencil marks and the date noted on it.

Daddy was an extremely caring person. He would always carry my mother's hand bag on his shoulder. He thought she needed help in walking or climbing steps.

He took good care of himself. He was regular with his morning walks.  He dressed with care even for these walks. A stylish hat, nice walking shoes, nice suitable clothes, and off he was for the park. He ate in moderation.  Yet death did not spare him. The only saving grace was that he died rather instantaneously. There was no prolonged illness, no wait and watch situation. He spared us that ordeal too.

WITH HIS GRANDSONS.

He was a man who never wanted anything for himself. He was an extremely generous man, who was always giving. He was always the teacher. He was always the guide who had a solution to every problem.

Now his thoughts remain with me. Every time I have a problem I look within and find the solution. I find him with me guiding, helping, and teaching me constantly.

I miss you my dear father, not only today, but everyday.

I only take solace in the thought that your thoughts, teachings remain instilled in me forever.

As G one says in the movie Ra one, Good men die but their goodness lives on.

Fathers must not be taken with a pinch of salt. They ARE the salt without whom our food is tasteless.

I think fathers have not received their due share of eulogy. They really deserve our love, affection and respect.

They are as important as a mother is in the life of every child. My father was very expressive, but most men are not expressive or demonstrative. Often they give the look of being indifferent. Believe me when I say that they are not. They are emotional, vulnerable and kind hearted.

All those of you who have fathers please do look again. Please do give back the love and affection that your father deserves. Remember parents do not last forever!

WE REMAIN YOURS TRULY.

Mutiny 1857-KASHMIRI GATE



THE RED FORT-A VIEW



I simply love Delhi! Dilli is the place of all the dilwallahs! There is simply no place like Delhi. It's not only yours truly who loves Delhi, but there have been many others before me and there will many more after me who will love this city.

Delhi they say was built seven times. The first was Quila Rai Pithora founded by Prithviraj Chauhan.

 Prithviraj Chauhan was defeated by Mohd Ghori in 1192. Qutubuddin Aiback his slave became ruler and developed Mehrauli, the next city. He also built the Qutab Minar.

The next city was Siri founded by Allaudin Khilji. This city is located near Hauz Khas area. The next city was Tughlakabad created by Firoze Shah Tughlak.

Shergarh or Purana Quila was then founded by Sher Shah Suri, who wrested power from Humayun. Incidentally the

GT Road

or Grand Trunk road which connected the country from west to east was erected at the behest of Sher Shah Suri. This road went from Peshawar to Calcutta.

Shajehanabad or the Red Fort was erected by Shah Jehan who had already immortalised Mumtaz Mahal by making the Taj Mahal for her.

Well this little bit of history of the love of rulers for Delhi is only an aside.

What I want to tell you about today is the walk that I went to from the Nicholson Cemetery to the Lothian Cemetery. Between these two cemeteries lies a lot of living history. History of education, rivalry of educational institutions, the Siege of The Kashmiri Gate, the uprising of the Mutiny of 1857 and a lot more. The British magazine(arms depot), despots, White nawabs, Ochterlony, the advent of the Railway, post and telegraph, the Walled City and the Civil Lines.

Well, well, well, Lothian road is an important road. The huge peepal, and neem trees in and around this road stand mute witness to the fall of the Mughal and the rise of the  British empire! They watched the lives of the Indian noblemen and the British rulers!

NICHOLSON CEMETERY.

Nicholson cemetery is near ISBT( Inter State Bus Terminus) in Old Delhi. Brigadier General John Nicholson was instrumental in the defeat of the Indian Mutineers in 1857. Nicholson was a much loved General and was mortally wounded during the 1857 Mutiny. He was barely 34 when he died. I call it Mutiny as the East India Company was the virtual ruler and the rebellion was against the de facto ruler. Our last Mughal Emperor Bahadur Shah Zafar was actually already getting a pension from the East India Company!

This cemetery has the grave of this much loved military leader. It also has the grave of Yesudas Ramchandra  an Indian who was a teacher of Mathematics at the Delhi College, and had converted to Christianity.

DELHI COLLEGE

ST. STEPHEN'S COLLEGE

Interestingly, three famous colleges were located in very close proximity to each other in Kashmiri Gate area. The magnificent and haughty St Stephen's College, which was exclusively for white and Christian students. The Hindu College established by Shri Krishan Dass Gurwale in 1899 to enable Indian students to get higher education.  In fact in 1902 Rai Bahadur Lala Sultan Singh donated a part of his property in Kashmiri Gate for the College as without their own building the college would have had  to close down.  The third was the historic and ancient Delhi College. Legend has it that the famous poet Mirza Ghalib was offered appointment as a teacher in Delhi College. On the appointed date Mirza arrived in a palanquin. He kept waiting at the gate expecting to be welcomed by the Principal himself! When the Principal did not come to welcome him, Mirza returned home and refused to take up the assignment. Suffice to note that Mirza Ghalib was facing a lot of financial hard ships and actually was surviving on financial help provided by the Nawab of Rampur!

DARA SHIKOH'S LIBRARY

Much before the British arrived, during the 17th Century, Dara Shikoh the eldest son of Shah Jehan and the real heir to the Mughal throne was a very literate and scholarly prince. He had built a magnificent Library near the Delhi College. It was massive and contained a number of books. Dara Shikoh was executed by his brother Aurangzeb, who had already usurped the throne. After the British captured power Sir David Ochterlony, the first British Resident of Delhi, built his opulent palace above this Library. 

OCHTERLONY'S CONVERSION OF THE LIBRARY

He lived like a Nawab surrounded by khidmatgars, had 13 Indian wives, dressed like an Indian Nawab, smoked the hukka and hosted lavish nautch parties  where the Mughal Royalty too was invited.Today this building appropriately houses the office of the Archaeological Survey of India.

The city of Shahjehanabad was surrounded by a wall and even today that part of the city is called the 'Walled City' although the walls were broken down after 1857. There are only some bits and small stretches of the fortified walls still visible in some places. There were seven gates in the walls. They were the Lahore Gate, The Delhi Gate, The Ajmeri Gate, The Turkman Gate, the Mori Gate, Kashmiri  Gate, and Kabuli Gate.

KASHMIRI GATE

Kashmiri Gate had two gates side by side. One was made by the Mughals and had thin bricks, the other was a replica made by the British and the bricks used by them are much bigger. Interestingly this gate was in constant use till a few years back. While travelling to the University I used to go under this gate everyday as buses too went on this road. There were marks of cannon balls on the gate and they were preserved as it was in 1857!

DESTRUCTION BY CANNON BALLS

Now the gate has been closed to traffic and a sort of memorial has been built there. To the north of this gate was Civil Lines where the British lived. That area was on the ridge, therefore the British had an advantage and could watch all the goings on in the walled City.

This morning I could go up the stairs of the gate and see what the view from there was like and how thick were the walls!

THE MAGAZINE

The famous

Lothian Road

also was the place where the arms and ammunitions of the East India Company were stored. It was called 'The Magazine'. This was right in front of the General Post Office. During the time of the Mutiny this magazine was blown up by the British themselves, so that the mutineers could not capture the arms. On the Lothian Road are also located the famous buildings of James Skinner, and St. James Church built by Skinner. Skinner was an Anglo Indian, knew excellent Persian-the court language and had founded the Skinner's Horse, a Cavalry unit of the Indian Army, which still exists.

ST. JAMES CHURCH

Just next to the Railway line where it crosses the

Lothian Road

is the Lothian Cemetery. It is the oldest cemetery in Delhi. When the railway track was to be laid a part of the Cemetery was acquired for the railway tracks. The General Post Office, the Telegraph Office was also opened on this road. There used to be two famous book stores on this road. One was Atma Ram & sons and the other was Rajpal & sons. There used to be a famous halwai called Mithan Lal, besides the Carlton and Khyber restaurant. Kashmiri Gate at one time was a posh area, as the British Officers lived here. They worshiped at the St. James Church. At the time of the Mutiny there was some bloodshed witnessed at the Church also where some British families had gathered to take shelter! Sir Thomas Metcalfe, an Agent of The East India Company, is also buried in the Churchyard of this Church.

BEAUTIFUL LATTICE WORK-THIS WAS SKINNER'S HAVELI

On this famous road are also located a lot of Gun shops as well as Banks, and also the famous Bengali Club! This is the place where I had to send the Bank's Guard for servicing the Bank's guns and for getting the bullets etc!

Punjab National bank brought back memories of my in- laws who had their accounts and locker in the bank in the 1920's.

TNN'S FATHER'S OFFICE

Close by is

Bela Road

where my husband TNN was born and spent his childhood. In the premises of Dara Shikoh's Library was the Office where my father- in- law worked. He was then employed in the Education department of the Govt of British India. In the ruins of the Magazine TNN played with his friend Subhash almost 60 years ago. The amazing story is that they are still in touch with each other and a couple of years back they took a trip to Disneyland in LA. I was accompanying them and was amused to see their childlike excitement and thrill while taking all the rides. I guess they actually travelled back 55 years and had a whale of a time.

Had I continued on my way south from the Lothian Cemetery I would have soon reached Red Fort and Chandni Chowk. I didn't go further on this road, as Kashmiri gate, the three colleges, the Siege of the Walled City the two oldest cemeteries of the City and St. James Church, in a day was enough for me!

RANDOM ABANDON!

Is the lure of lucre more than the lure of peace of mind?

The question is whose peace of mind? All of us by standers who have nothing better to do except to watch, comment, argue, get angry, frustrated and then end up with stress, blood pressure and for some it could be heart trouble too!

Now, the one who was fonder of lucre doesn't even know that my life got so affected by his/her love and lure for lucre!

Kiran Bedi, once I idolized you! I thought you were such a great role model for Indian women who were always so subjugated and down trodden! What a downfall!

What a complicated world do I live in?

I need to set my priorities right!

There is Machu Pichu, there is the Nile Valley, Tashkent, Samarkand, Bukhara waiting to be re- discovered by me! And here am I wasting my time thinking about someone's love for lucre!

Oh my incredible mind, would you like to return to your original stance on life?

Let bygones be bygones!

Bheda they muh kaale toh saanu kee?So what if the sheep have black faces?

All the world's a stage and we are all actors who have a role to play in it.

I must re write my script so that I love my role, play it well and enjoy my own life!

MY DAYS IN ZANNAT-PART 3

The Glacier.

I was already married and also had two kids when I joined the Bank. My batch mates would teasingly sometimes call me Aunty! I didn't mind it, most probably because I simply had no choice! I simply accepted it.

While I was posted at Srinagar, my children were looked after by my parents in their house at Delhi. In the summer of 1976, my parents visited me in Srinagar with my kids. My son Anurag was 4 years old and daughter Chaitali was one and a half year old.

All of us living at this wonderful house in Srinagar decided to trek to Chandanwadi. Chandanwadi was the first stop on the way to Amarnath, the famous pilgrimage cave in Kashmir. We were neither sufficiently charged nor courageous enough to go all the way to Amarnath, so the trek up to Chandanwadi was decided upon.

Vinita, Kamal Kalra, P R Suresh, my parents, my brother Ujjwal, who had just given his school final, his friend Vipin Maira, my kids and I set out from Pahalgam. The distance of the trek was about 16 kilometers each way. We set out with water, and some sandwiches. I must admit that we were quite poorly equipped! My children walked with us. Soon Chaitali tired out, so Ujjwal carried her on his shoulders. Everyone took turns and we walked along the beautiful road full of pine trees and the Lidder River flowing alongside. We were moving uphill and would often take shortcuts through the forest areas avoiding the motor-able road. In those days traffic was very little and we had a very pleasant and relaxing trek. Soon our water supply depleted and Anurag became very thirsty. As traffic was poor there were no shops on the way. There was no way to get water, bottled water was not available then. We were looking out for mountain streams. After a long time we found an Army jeep on the way. They helped us to fetch some water from a stream and we could quench the thirst of the little boy.

The path was memorable, beautiful and full of pine smell. We met a lot of people returning from their pilgrimage of Amarnath cave. They were either on pony or palki or walking. When we crossed them they would shout Baba Amarnath ki jai! My father a staunch atheist would reply, Lala Amarnath ki Jai! Lala Amarnath was a well known Test cricket player. Once we reached Chandanwadi, we were amazed to see the glacier over there. It was all ice and a small stream of milky white water trickled out from the glacier. It was extremely beautiful and also cold. We were to return back soon after as we had not planned to stay at Chandanwadi. Another stretch of 16 kilometers was ahead of us and we were all tired. My mother's footwear started giving her trouble. Chaitali had to be carried and little Anurag all of 4 years old had to walk back all that distance.

Pine forest

Ujjwal was very gallant and gave his shoes to mummy. He actually walked barefoot from then onwards. It was not easy as the road was filled with pine needles, stones and was quite rough. He was also carrying Chaitali on his shoulders most of the time. I was filled with amazement and gratitude for his selfless and helpful attitude.

We reached Pahalgam quite late in the evening and the best part was that Anurag walked all of the 32 kilometers! That was quite a feat!

The trek was memorable and beautiful. The Lidder, the pine trees, the blue sky, the fresh breeze, small mountain streams remain vivid in my memory as if it happened yesterday, although it was actually long, long ago. Time passes but beautiful memories remain fresh forever. One only has to look within and out come tumbling all the freshness, beauty and purity of the place.

The basic goodness of human beings, the unbelievable beauty of Kashmir and the fresh smell of the pine forests remain etched in my mind forever. Those were the days my friend when everything looked good, beautiful, pure, and peaceful. Preserving memories and re- living them like the reel of an old movie on a projector is one of the ways of keeping those memories forever fresh and beautiful. These are the days my friend when I rewind the reel in my mind and again see everything looking good, beautiful, pure and peaceful!