Thursday, September 09, 2010

Shack : Long Story Short Part I

After three seven years and innumerous disappointments I have realized that if there is anything in this world worth living, it  is one’s tiny, irrelevant and inconsequential pursuit or purpose . I have tried to tell myself that with a few more bunch of currencies , a bit more fortified walls of security and a few more pantheons of recognition and praise life will be better, but all in vain.

Yes, I am talking about my journey after I passed out from Delhi University with a third division to a shady college to a few years of complete obscurity and confusion to the first unsuccessful steps towards entrepreneurship to unbroken chain of disappointments and failures to the current stage. Currently I am building a new Media Marketing Agency ( www.shack.co.in ) , which was formalized in 2008 and also working towards opening India’s first genuine Specialty Coffee Café.

I had thought a lot about sharing this inconsequential story , but I have decided against it time and again for the simple reason that who would want to know what have I done in my life. But then I thought that sharing one’s story is not just for the achievers, successful professionals, popular personalities and so called great men. Why can’t someone who has not achieved professional heights , earned fortune by getting funded and still struggling to figure out his life ,share his story. And with that very thought  I am doing this.

Three main characters in the story are coffee, a friend and the city called Delhi. In my next post I will share how the muck filled Yamuna can fill someone with hope and desire to excel. So, at times we should love Sheila Dixit for prodding us to better things in life.

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Monday, August 02, 2010

दुपहिये में बैठ सीधे घर चले आओ…

दुपहिये में बैठ सीधे घर चले आओ,आज तो प्रिये कोई बहाना ना बनाओ;

घिर आये हैं बादल, गिरने लगी हैं बुँदे,फिर दिखे हैं सपने, फिर जागी है उम्मीदें;

मरने दो उम्मीदों को, मुझे सपनों से जगाओ, घिर आये है बादल प्रिये, अब घर चले आओ.

खरीद लाई मैं बेसन, कट गए हैं प्याज, टप-टप कर रिझा रही मुझे बुँदों कि आवाज; मुझे जल्दी बताओ कितुम भीगने लगेहो, बिना बहाना बनाए अबघर को चले हो

फिर मैं भी नाचूंगी उन्ही बूंदों में आज; टपटप कर बुलारही मुझे बुँदों किआवाज. अबतो दुपहिये में बैठ सीधे घर चलेआओ, आजतो प्रिये कोई बहाना बनाओ

फिरआएगा सावन पुरे एकबरस के बाद, यदाकदा ही होती अब बिन सावन बरसात; इस अवसर को मुझसे तुम छीन लेनाआज, टपटप करके चिड़ा रही मुझे बुँदों कि आवाज

अब तो दुपहिये में बैठ सीधे घर चले आओ, आज तो... आज तो प्रिये कोई बहाना ना बनाओ.

श्रंगार रस - बड़े समय के बाद:)

दुपहिये में बैठ सीधे घर चले आओ, आज तो प्रिये जहाज ना उडाओ!

By Navin Pangti

Follow him on Twitter at http://twitter.com/pangti

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Friday, June 18, 2010

Nero's Guest.

http://www.idfa.nl/industry/idfa-tv/trailers/film.aspx?id=51be8617-0e86-495d-8b1c-45ea1b2e9610

Everybody Loves a Good Drought- Authored by P Sainath is a book which shows our apathy towards who toil endlessly to feed us, help us to avail our comforts and then in return are ignored and forgotten to obscurity. Our own little pursuits are the most important things for us. Our own sadness is the heaviest. Our own ambitions loom larger than anyone else’s.

Poverty, illiteracy, malnutrition , corruption and the resulting hopelessness are not mere facts about our country, they are also a way of life for the millions. Imagine if one of us , the blogging souls will never ever have access to internet, electricity, cars, books, homes, beds, toilets, etc. what will our existence be like. Are we really aware of this situation in the lives of the countless , inconsequential millions?

I am looking forward to watch this documentary. It will put us at unease, but it is better to be poked by truth rather than be caressed by utopian falsehood.

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Thursday, June 10, 2010

All Things Banaras

“The Ganges front is the supreme showplace of Benares.
Its tall bluffs are solidly caked from water to summit, along a stretch of three miles, with a splendid jumble of massive and picturesque masonry, a bewildering and beautiful confusion of stone platforms, temples, stair flights, rich and stately palaces....soaring stairways, sculptured temples, majestic palaces, softening away into the distances; and there is movement, motion, human life everywhere, and brilliantly costumed - streaming in rainbows up and down the lofty stairways, and massed in metaphorical gardens on the mile of great platforms at the river's edge.”
(Mark Twain, American Writer - 1835-1910

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Saturday, April 24, 2010

God's Own Temple.

A THOUGHT FOR TODAY:

A few minutes ago every tree was excited, bowing to the roaring storm, waving, swirling, tossing their branches in glorious enthusiasm like worship. But though to the outer ear these trees are now silent, their songs never cease. Every hidden cell is throbbing with music and life, every fiber thrilling like harp strings, while incense is ever flowing from the balsam bells and leaves. No wonder the hills and groves were God's first temples, and the more they are cut down and hewn into cathedrals and churches, the farther off and dimmer seems the Lord himself. -John Muir, naturalist, explorer, and writer (1838-1914)

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Tuesday, April 06, 2010

Fiery Bangla Chicken

I work with an ecclectic group of people who are involved with few projects we do. Half are crazy and the rest crazier. Most of them have inclination towards fine arts while they have to work in the industry to earn their livlihoods. There are also people from other walks of lives with inflated egos and deflated confidence.Therefore we have a heady mix of creativity, love life, joy, angst, hope, frustration and so much more. Once in a while we get together and cook offs take place, where the best cook cooks something and then the second best rustles up somethng edible, while the rest bullshit and drink .

One such day we got together and the bawarchis cooked, chatterjees chatted and one patrakarji ranted against the world. He taught a lesson to a liquor baron and instructed an agency to just do it while he obliged to eat with us . Who knows that it takes very little for a bubble to burst and that is what happened. Patrakarji's ex and his current also joined in. We thought that it is cool these days to be friends with your ex and show affection to your current. Patakar ji blamed the host for inviting his ex and they exchanged some fiery notes, made sombre with some east indian langage which makes abuses sound rounded .

In the meanwhile host's wife and I were involved in cooking. Now S, the host's wife is one great cook I have ever across. She says that she has learnt her cooking from her mother and grandmother who live in Calcutta. Her mother instructed her that one should be able to distinguish the smell of the dish, and strive to replicate the same . I would call it intuitive cooking and may be the best. The other day she cooked chicken in caramelized onion and tomatoes and added red chilli powder, haldi, few cloves, few cardamom for the flavor. She did not add garlic, ginger or garam masala which otherwise is a norm. The end product was the most flavorful chicken I had ever eaten. Follwoing is the recipe which I named Fiery Bangla Chicken.

Fiery Bangla Chicken

Serves: 4 Gluttons.

Ingredients:

Chicken 1kg

Onion 500gms Cut into small pieces.

Tomatoes 250 Gms cut into small pieces.

Cardamom 8 pods

Cloves 8 nos. ( Remove the head or pod )

Red Chilli Dried 8 nos. ( Make a paste of it)

Red Chilli powder 1tsp

Turmeric 1tsp

Preparation:

Take oil and heat it. Put two dried red chillis and wait till it starts to crackle. Put onions and wait till starts to turn translucent which is five minutes. Add turmeric and cloves. Wait till onion leaves oil. Add tomato, stir. Add chilli paste, and don't wipe your sweat. Add chilli powder and turmeric powder. Stir and keep stirring for five minutes. Add chicken . Turn down flame to minimum and cover with the lid. Let the chicken cook for half an hour. Check if it is cooked. Add warm water if you want more gravy.

Fiery Chicken tastes with Steamed Rice and coke/beer.*

*I have cooked it twice and bot the times it has turned out wonderful.

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Tuesday, March 09, 2010

Sunday, January 17, 2010

Eclipse

 

Science is touching new frontiers, but the basic human emotions have remained same even after millenia  .Today is the nth Solar Eclipse , a phenomenon which catches the fancy of an illiterate as well as the educated. On one hand superstitious try to save  themselves from the ill effects, which might bring bad fortunes. On the other hand the educated gaze right into the eyes of the sun  and tell how the fortunes of the star called Sun ,have changed. Overall the spectacle drwas attention from all quarters.

If an eclipse , taking place once in several years can be of so much interest, then why not the eclipse which has covered our hearts and minds be of any interest? Our hearts and minds are now muddled with the darkness akin to the eclipse. We do not care about relationships. We do not care about elders. We do not care about children as we teach them virtues of vices. We smile without and scoul within. We count excellence and quantify love.We are on a spree to gather more and better things in life, ranging from car, gadgets and so much more. We ignore each other while we sheepishly outnumber, outcompete and out win others. Well, if this is what we term development and advancement, then we might have to rethink over it.

It was only yesterday that  the country was celebrating pongal/uttrayan and sankranti while nearly half a million people have lost thier lives in Haiti. People rejoiced yesterday ushering good luck with the first harvest by the farmers. But behold there was no farmer involved in our celebrations. Farmers are somewhere aloof from all the developments which the urban elite is soaking up, dreaming about a future whcih gives them fair price for their produce. At least we are ensuring them celebration for what they did. After we have rejoiced the produce we will go back to haggling for the prices in the vegetable market and then hop on to the nearest mall and change into our serence and calm selves when we purchase a 1.5k branded pair of jens and a pair of shoes worth 5k.

With massive devastation people have discovered one more side of theirs, which is being competetive in donations. So, when poeple donate an x amount they are going to shout at the top of their voices on all social platforms about their nobility. Now the world should know that I have donated something, and believe me I am not here to opt out. I will consume more than others, compete with others and ten sing praise of my goodness and greatness for I have eclipsed myself. Yes, Eclipsed!

 

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Friday, January 15, 2010

Eclipse

Science is touching new frontiers, but the basic human emotions have remained same millennium after millennium  . Today is the nth Solar Eclipse of the world, a phenomenon which catches the fancy of an illiterate as well as the scientific community. One forgets all the worries of the world and tries to save himself from the ill effects which will destroy the person and his already ill fated fortune. On the other hand scientists gaze right into the eyes of the sun and predict the age of one particular phenomenon which might have occurred a million years ago. Both loose themselves into the dimmed reflections of the day .

If people care so much about this natural phenomenon and are affected so much, why cannot we take some time out and see what all have eclipsed our minds and hearts. We are on a spree to gather more and better things in life, ranging from car, gadgets and so much more. We ignore each other while we sheepishly outnumber, outcompete and out win others. Nature is being devastated, our relationships with our communities( anything from the family to the place where one lives) are on the brink of collapse. Writers on all platforms proudly claim to own think tanks, and spit poisonous fumes of hatred, war and destruction. Competition , numbers, targets, deadlines and target segments are more important to us than our own lives. With every passing day we shall invent more potent ways to eclipse ourselves. People die and people create a social scorecard of how much one has denoted .

It was only yesterday that  the country was greeting pongal/uttrayan and sankranti. People are ready to go to any extent to show how good they are and also how zonked out they are, but we will never care about the farmers, about whom the festival was. Farmers are committing suicides for the people do not care about them. Look at people haggling for the vegetables in the market and their face turns serene and calm when they buy a pair of jeans or a pair of expensive shoes in a mall. Now that is what I call real eclipse, and not the one which occurred today.

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Monday, December 14, 2009

Rasmadhuri

I am back from the city of the gossip mongers,shiva worshippers,food connosieurs of the highest kind,renderers of the forgotten folk songs,endless family and probably the only place where time is a luxury amidst chaos.
Title of the blog is named after a sweet prepared by a specialist chef to be consumed within three hours. Same is the case with Banaras where life is to be lived in present to fathom its entirety or else the nectar flies away. If only we lived our lives like that.
I have decided to visit Banaras again and dig deeper. After all its covered with thousands of years of its own existence.

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Thursday, April 02, 2009

Roots Run Deep.

S Mitra Kalita, a columnist for Mint newspaper, is leaving India to go back to the US, as she was an American Indian, who had come to India to spend time here and explore her options. While she stayed here she wrote about her experiences here. I have been reading her columns on and off. However today I log on to her article and find that this is her last post for the newspaper as she is going back to the USA. Few readers expressed their pleasure in her departure while few tried to show that they too came back but did not leave and are sticking around. I could not stop commenting. However there is a 2000 character limit. So, I had to jump across the servers and write it here.

First of all let me wish you a safe journey. Of all the people who are displaying their allegiance to our so called great nation , and the people otherwise who show such allegiance when outside and being called NRIs, one thing is common. And the common thing is their love affair with India, troubled at times and rock solid at times.

Well, here in India the majority of us are chasing the dreams which the founding fathers of the US of A dreamed and not what our Father of the Nation saw. All of us want the similar economy of consumption and high disposable income. We are overjoyed with the American lookalike IPL matches. We are overjoyed when one of our relatives is selected to work with a multinational company. We are overjoyed when we add one more car to our cavalcade.

There is no parameter which is not American or NRIan and we do not follow to appraise ourselves. And India/Hindustan/Bharat as a nation is quite older than the US of A, but it seems that not wiser. We are deep into the conflict with ourselves, from the first arti in the morning to the last show in the multiplex we are constantly trying to justify and define ourselves.

With every Indian coming back to India and every Indian going back to the US such discussions will occur and one half will redeem while the other half would blame. Interestingly the very people who have not gone to the shiny, slick, packaged and homely US , might not have keenly observed their immediate lineage out of which one soul, whom they always thank for leaving their mati/soil and going to some far off unfamiliar and hostile land to eke out a living for himself and pave the road for the surpluses and prosperity of the coming generation. How many of us, the Indian city dwellers, perpetuating garbage and litter everywhere have gone back to our villages, the rooted rock to hang on to and get nostalgic, and tried to do something. Well, I have not been to my village for more than five times and was never encouraged to go back and pursue my agricultural ambitions. Now

It is too small a thing to be even thought about. One air ticket and few hours will not change things and they have not changed. Languishing villagers, drudging housemaids , yawning security guards, sweating cart pullers, haggling auto rickshaw drivers, cheating taxi drivers, malnourished village children and old men merge into the very idea called India as much as the sedan cars, popcorn filled screenings of movies, gleaming malls, multi storied offices in Gurgaon, IT jungle in Bangalore, shining smart phones and laptops .

We cannot segregate one from the other. Fate, destiny, luck, hardwork, diligence, culture, tradition, love, greed and so much more have got us here. Is there anyone here who can make sense out of it? Well, I am neither a US returned academically brilliant techie nor I am an owner of a flourishing business or an ever smiling bumbling bee like professional in an ever growing Indian multinational. In fact, I am struggling pseudo this and pseudo that from some teaching to some evangelism to some entrepreneurial jingoism and very confused. All this change and turmoil is painful indeed, but the very first step to alleviate pain is to understand it. And I wonder if understanding will come from India or from Back to US.

As  for Banaras there is no one to beat it in that sense. Banaras demands no allegiance to the village roots. It seeks no back end processors expertise. It has the world’s oldest database management system, where no matter when you visit a Brahmin, he will dig out the names and the village of your ancestors, and connect you with the entire family tree, you would not have imagined in the springest of your dreams. So, guys do anything do not challenge Banarasi. It is off the record, but Brad Pitt belongs to a village nearby called Jolia. His maiden name was Birender Pehelwan( Secret).

Neither genius, fame, nor love show the greatness of the soul. Only kindness can do that. -Jean Baptiste Henri Lacordaire, preacher, journalist and activist (1802-1861)

 

 

 

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Banglored.

I have been Bangalored, which is that I haven't been allowed to leave the city which had propelled me towards the journey. The same city pulled me back, rather an angel in the city did it. Whatever be the reason, I am still very much in the city. It has been a year since I had wanted to leave this place forever. As they say," Never say Never." In fact after I had stayed back, I have found myself doing the similar things which I had aspired to do forever. Every day is full of promises which takes me closer to coffee, its plantations and its various enchanting avtaars. Everyday is providing me with a chance to redeem myself of my past, which has albatrossed itself around my neck, and never seems to be tired to leave me.
Nonetheless I will fight on and move on, very much like the city of Banaras, which has always flowed along with the timeless waves of time, which eludes everyone but not the most ancient city in the world. People have left the city , only to return back after a lineage to see the same city beckoning them with the same enthusiasm. I do not know how much of that enthusiasm remains with me, but I am sure that Coffee still interests me as much as the beloved Banaras.
So what if I have been Bangalored, Banaras has not forsaken me and so is my Coffee.

Monday, September 10, 2007

Bangalore Via Banaras

My grandfather left his ancestral village in Eastern U.P. to pursue higher studies and a besotted life. He harbored the desire to do graduate from Queens College in Banaras, then Benares, which finally materialized. He went a step further and did his masters from the famed Allahabad University, also known as Cambridge of the East. He then worked with the government and private firms while achieving professional milestones. In that era Banaras and Allahabad were considered the most desired destinations for higher studies, with BHU( Banaras Hindu University) and Allahabad University leading the way in U.P. However the educational shift along with the professional shift carried on. My father , who did his medicine from the industrial town of Jamshedpur, joined a public company and moved all along the state, finally settling down in Delhi. And now it is time that I carry forward this tradition of ancestral wandering, in the search of life,love and so much more.

When I had woken up from my slumber, it was a whole new experience. I had mixed feelings for the past life and a half hearted anticipation for the future. I started to experience a whole new experience, which was an amalgamation of half cooked romance, zest for work, aimless search for something and dogged determination to fight against the circumstances. Days passed by, into weeks and then into months. Nothing seemed to happen, as the only thing constant was the struggle buttered with the thoughts of doing something I would love to do, which was to be found. The aimless digging of the mental dens and caves yielded nothing. In fact I was getting sucked into the black hole of debt, expenses, frustration and shameless display of calmness, declaring that everything is going as planned.

From nowhere the dead , roasted but flavorful coffee beans came to rescue. It showed me the path. I figured out with my friend S that it is this lifeless, badgered produce of nature, which has been calling us. I found out that I am going to do something with the coffee. The most logical thing is to start a cafe with a wide array of food and other beverages, other than the coffee. Bingo!! Behold, it was not easy again. However, with the new found direction, I could see the creation of a whole life out of nowhere , centered around the burnt beans(scientifically) , rising like a phoenix.
Today I am eagerly waiting to leave this city,which gave me so much of loathing , hate, abhorrence and love for nothing for so long. It is the same process of hatred and constant bickering that has made me love one thing in this world, more than anything else, that it is compelling enough to leave the city to conquer one and only frontier. S and I aim to start the first Specialty Coffee Cafe in this country. And what better place than Bangalore. It is in the hills surrounding Bangalore that coffee revolution was brewed and served around the country. I will get back to this later on.

B A N G A L O R E. Here we come. Though this does not make Banaras any less attractive . It is just that my journey is taking me to Bangalore Via Banaras, as explained above.

Monday, May 28, 2007

Banaras Varanasi Kaashi Shivnagri ....

Mark Twain called Benares older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend, and looks twice as old as all of them put together.


Off lately I had been posting too much of personal stuff here. It was due to a combination of my stupidity as well as some misunderstood emotions. Now I am back , to post about for what I had started this blog i.e. Banaras or Varanasi or Kashi or......
Why would a city have so many names? Are there others with various names as Banaras has? And the above three are the ones which are known to the world at large. There are numerous others which are in regular use in day to day conversation by the locals.
A friend of mine ,M,who is a travel writer describes it as the hippie land of our country. If the mythological stories are dug out and read, one could easily make out that Lord Shiva was the original hippie of the world, who went on to have a massive following in the subcontinent. I swear the hippies rule the world, and they would keep on ruling it. So, it seems very logical to term the city as the original hippie land of the world.
Banaras is the anglicised version of Varanasi which is claimed to be derived from two words; Varuna river which is a small river which meets the river Ganges near Rajghat, while Assi is the last in the series of ghats, which number between 150 and 175. The city being situated between these two landmarks is called Varanasi.
Kashi ...I still have to find out about its origins. However, if I take a wild guess, it must have something to do with the hair strands of Lord Shiva, hindi word for hair is Kesh. More on that later.
I once again, welcome you all to the world of Banaras/Varanasi/Kashi/Benares.

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Let us Explore


If Banaras is capable of evoking multifarious emotions in the visitors, it is also capable of imparting the most important lessons of life. It displays life and its panorama with stark candidness, which is the truth in life and truth of life. All sorts of people flock to the city.

The seekers of peace, who had achieved every thing, but the trophy of peace which eluded them ,come to the city and roam the streets, knocking the doors to find it. If they could ever know that peace, happiness and stillness are like the dew drops , which forms when the atmospheric conditions are just right, and could not be seen being formed and then bought or dug out.

Another set of people who grace the city are the tourists, who had heard about an exotic fair , a melee which never comes to an end. It is like a staged play for them, where they see a cow flirting with them, and posing for the photographs, which would form the most authentic proof of their visit to the country. How could a tourist return without clicking the photograph of a cow?
Then they had been told about the central theater where the act portrays life from the ancient times.
The rising and the setting sun, which can be seen from the ghats , has never been tired , and so are the people performing rituals. Is it not fascinating that at one ghat there are people performing the rituals for a newly born baby, declaring him to be a Hindu as per thread ceremony, sanctified by the hymns and the purity of the priest ; and at the adjacent ghat mourners are performing the last rites of the dead.
Wow! this play has been running here incessantly and it has gained such popularity that the patrons have been coming from all the corners of the world to watch it in full splendor, with the firing Canons and flashing Yashikas.

Third set of people are the people who are the central characters who are in the lead and supporting roles. These are from the rural areas surrounding Banaras. They throng the city to avail the various facilities such as medicine, shopping, and combining it with the religious and spiritual pursuits. They are the spices and the colors gracing the city's play. Their suffering, longings and demands hold no importance to the visitors and the awe struck tourists. They get sprinkled by the holy water of richness and dazzling prosperity, and go back with the buried desires in the chest boxes, only to be opened at the next visit. They neither participate in the great Indian exotic play , nor do they visit to appreciate the great show.

Last and not the least are the inhabitants of the very city which has grown beyond any comparison and dimensions. The spectrum which holds these people is an amazing one, where you find the simplest pleasures in the most difficult times and most difficult lessons being taught by the simplest of the people in the easiest manner. People of Banaras, who are also called as Banarasis , are the uncrowned kings of Gossip. They can sacrifice anything and give up all their belongings , but not the most favorite pastime . It is just not an activity, where people meet and talk and move on.
It is a ritual in its own. It has the prerequisites starting from the beetle nut leaves stuffed with flavors and the tobacco, few rickety benches or a platform to squat, sweeter than the sweetest chai , a newspaper for reference and the shining armors of the war , the gossipers. For the inexperienced the statutory warning should be posted that the seriousness and the excitement of the gossip should not be taken at its face value, as it is mostly misleading.
One headline , the most unsuspecting one will evoke the emotions, and it would seem that the place would turn into the armless battlefield. The tempers would rise, the raises voices, animated faces and the endless sips from the tiny earthen cups to fuel the fire. If someone has been a party to this discussion , the discussions happening at the parliament would be pale in comparison.
Visitors might have seen everything but if they have not been to any such debate, they have missed out one original relic of the city , which had survived . Besides there is no animosity between the people when it comes to post debate atmosphere. They would return back to their bunkers tired, but not bitter. However while going back they would not forget to take back some street food, which in itself is an institution and deserves number of posts dedicated to it, as each vendor has a story to tell about the food and its patrons.

The life, the real banarasi life revolves around these people, behind the curtains of the stage called ghats. And the spectators are rarely given a peek inside. I would try to do that , as life in Banaras is beyond the typical Indian description of life, comprising of marriages, miracles, gods, awe inspiring personalities, etc etc.
let us explore.....

Friday, March 16, 2007

Cafe as Microcosm of our Society.

While I sit here and leisurely sip my cup of latte, walks in a girl, with the obvious appearances of a poor girl. She stands scared, glancing in all the directions. In the meanwhile another boy walks in, with the confidence to execute a plan. He stays inside for a while and takes the stock of the situation. Suddenly he starts to walk outside, while picking up a purse of a lady. She realizes in the nick of the time and beckons the boy, who drops the bag and runs away, while his escort ambles following him. The staff springs into action and nabs the girl.

If I have missed, the boy should not be more than ten years of age and the girl seven. The girl blurts out about the gang involved in lifting the belongings. Now, the people around, discuss the incident for a while, describing the sharpness of the boy and the girl assisting him. After a while the gossiping returns back to its old rigmarole. The whole thing is lost in the discussion of the lawlessness and lack of everything.

Does the malaise lie there or deeper and further? It is very obvious that the girl and the boy are amongst the millions of the billion blue, who are only concerned about the world cup. These millions are not the spectators of the antics of the players on the field. They watch the daily dose of prosperity visible in the coffee houses, and the cars zooming past them, and the branded clothes brandished by the wearers, and the plethora of the things visible.

Is to snatch some of it to experience and give in to the desires, and commit what the boy did, should be taken as a failure of the law or is it the failure of the society which has made it a habit to amass much more than it requires? I fail to find the answer. I am the culprit and I am the criminal, as I am part of the process and I perpetuate it further and stronger. I am so sad and sorry, as I know that I will not stop it here, and I will move on and continue. Nobody cares and so do I .

Never did I have seen a mirror so clear, showing me the truest picture of me and the millions of the blue billion. The faces of the hurried boy and the scared girl fail to go away, as they badger me with their looks in their eyes of blame and questions unanswered. I do not have any answers, other than that I start the venture, which I had dreamt about and help the girls and the boys of the immediate community, who do not have to snatch and who have a friend in our venture . Hey innocents, I am with you and I know that it is not you who are responsible,it is us.

Take care.

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

Banaras -An Enigma.

India is vast country, not by the land mass, but by the ocean of humanity, which explodes into countless cultures, traditions, customs and colours. It is not mere a statistic of a billion , but it's an energy latent, which flows in all the directions, with all its surreal razzmatazz . The composite culture of India is an unique example of how humans believing in different things coexist and celibrate the existence, with thousands festivals . All the thoughts which flew on the crest of ocean waves and air , have assimilated into each other , blessing us with the blend of the finest human existence possible on the planet called earth.
One thing which will always attract people , pilgrims and travelers to Banaras , is its unique quality of isolation. One can find oneself in complete isolation, in the midst of crowd, as if the crowd in itself , is insulating the individual from the crowd. Yes, the city will make you stand at a plateau and make you watch the humdrum of the city from far off Rajghat, which is one of the oldest Ghats. It is from here that you can find Mother Ganges turning into Sage Ganga, with the serenity in its bosom and peace in its stride towards its next frontier. Ah! It has many colors. Folklore says that the famous Shehnai Player, Late Ustad Bismillah Khan Sahab denied the offer to migrate to various countries, for the sole reason that he would not be near to his river Ganga Mayia(Mother).
Banaras is in the state of Uttar Pradesh, which had been bypassed by the modern development sweeping the nation. Infrastructure is failing and so is its law and order. The very river which makes it a holy city, for its northwards flow in Varanasi, has come to a state where it carries sewage and not the self purifying water from the Himalayas. Any other amenity which might make the life and journey comfortable of a resident or tourist is missing. It is a pity that there has been no change and several half hearted efforts, unworthy of any mention. And the list goes on. Despite of all the shortcomings it attracts people in hoards. It is thronged by the visitors from the Southern India , Northern, Eastern and the Western. It is a must see or rather must feel destination for many of the foreign tourists.
So, when you are soaking up in the mele of the ocean of humanity, merging into the galaxy of spirituality with the cries of prayers and the sighs of awe and wonder, you are , that very moment, connected with the ancient , present and the future, eternity in short. Eternity escorts and the man jumps out of the boat of time and space and is lost in the lap of beyond. Is there any such place? Those who feel the undercurrent stick it out instead of getting repelled by the muck and dirt around. Though that is not a justification of the situation.
Therefore it is an enigma, a mystery and a puzzle, yet to be solved and understood. Till the time it intrigues and perplexes the minds , it might attract.
Let us find out.

Saturday, January 13, 2007

Life Lives or Leaves.

Sadness has a weight of its own. It has the pull of a black hole, sucking the whole being into it. It holds you, shrugs you, sways you, churns you and then when you are silent, it presses you down. The sadness about nothing is the saddest of all. Sadness about a tangible thing is plain absence of aspirational longings. What do you do with the sadness, which has no shape, measure, dimension, spectrum or cause? It has only got the effect, with the sullen, gloomy trap. However, it is the sadness which feels the being or vice a versa. It is in sadness, when one weighs oneself. It is sadness which teaches you to count the beauty of your own breath. Oh sadness! I am happy that I am sad but I have no other option, other than to run away from you. I have longings, which would never be fulfilled. I have thoughts and plans which will die without taking any shape. I have desires which will remain buried in the corners of my heart. I have visions which will have no eyes to see their own existence. When I have nothing and have lost the hopes, I will be left with the reservoir of sadness, never getting a release.
What happens next? I do not know. Those who know the answer will not tell, and those who tell , will never be right. I am sinking under the weight of sadness. And then there are remembrances of my stay in Banaras, when I have watched Ganga/Ganges flow with the serenity of a sage or seer, standing at Rajghat or the stillness of Pepul tree at its banks, assuring the goodness of life or kachauris/fried Indian pancakes, being polished off by the engrossed inhabitants of Banaras or a weaver weaving the famous Banarasi sarees lost in his own rhythm. I fail to compare and comprehend. Yes, life and the way I see it and feel it is a paradox and mystery for me.

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

Banaras- The Bana(Prepared) Ras(Juice)

Ustad Bismillah passed away two months ago. Though this is an ill timed obituary, I do not feel ashamed to remember him when I feel the same for his beloved and chosen place of residence. he was born in Dumraon, Bihar, near Buxar(famous for the Battle of Buxar). He had moved to Banaras as a young boy, who imbibed the teachings of music from his maternal uncle , at the doorsteps of Kashi Vishvanath Temple. He did not only learn music but the essence of it, which transcends religions, boundaries and communes. When he played, he played for the million Hindu gods and goddesses and for Allah and for Jesus and the gods to be discovered in the lap of time futuristic. He played his Shehnai and made it an instrument of solidarity with the humanity. Ustad saab showed to the world that to live a peaceful life one dos not need an intellect or an elite education , but a simple heart which feels the joys and pains of fellow human beings. His greatness was in his generous simplicity. I had the privilege to listen to him twice , where he accentuated the meaning of Banaras, that is prepared juice of life, for which one dos not need to hunt , when living in Banaras. How true he was?
Let the elixir of life called Banaras intoxicate me.....

Wednesday, December 27, 2006

Burning Pyre of Life.

Manikarnika Ghat.
If anyone has ever been to Manikarnika Ghat, which is where the Hindus burn the dead, with the very elaborate rituals to attain the Moksha, Nirvana and freedom from rebirths. As per the claims, the fire at pyre has never died out since the ancient times. So, life at the ghat where dead are burnt has never been still. So the ghat for the dead has never been devoid of life. Life and death and death and life! Are they not the constant companions? Banaras is the place to watch it, feel it, to die and get revived a thousand times. While you stand at the ghat and look at the fire , you feel the void in you, which is as empty as the hands of the dead man, lying in front of you. You realize in those moments that abundance of life is not in the riches in life , but the richness in life. If you stay there for sometime, odds are in the favor of one becoming the lover of truth, a philosopher. But the empty hands of a dead man reflects the emptiness in us and we feel scared and run away to a bustling lane or to watch the children jumping into the river.
Banaras beckons many to die and at the same time travelers flock from all over the world to see the life. Is there a city in the world where people gather to die and experience life, though both are the same things. Death merges into life and vice a versa.
Oh Banaras...!!!