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.

Posted via email from abhishekrai's posterous

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)

 

 

 

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.

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.

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.

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.....

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.

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.

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.

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.....

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...!!!

Can We Share???

There are innovators in this world who seriously think in the power of one and the power of many , which essentially is the same. The Ideal Bite guys are one of them. They advocate very simple changes in our lifestyle, which will do so much good to our world. There is this small shoe company named Simple Shoes which believes in manufacturing shoes which are comfortable when you wear and pleasantly affordable. They are based in California, and they go all out to manufacture shoes with eco friendly materials and processes.Infact our hand -made paper industry is also one such example.
Since I have this Banaras centric blog, where a majority of the population consist of economically backward people, I would recommend that we go and observe these people who exist on the fringes of the society. They are beavers , scavengers, rickshawpullers, professional blood donors, mobile fruit and vegetable sellers, milkmen(who bring the cattle to your doorstep to assure you the purity) and the innumerable invisible uncared for , but very important indispensable people.
The empty bottles from Maggi Ketchup caress the money plants , which might be the only substantial thing to be referred as money in their lives. Used clothing are sewn into various mats, curtains and the table cloths, which is like a phoenix rising from the ashes. They are the most creative bunch of people I have ever seen. May be the destiny or the fate has its hand in them living the way they live, but it would be much better if we could exchange a bit of our abundant stuff with theirs. But, we have to carry all that to the next birth. So we will hang on to that. It is ironical that so many people go to Manikarnika Ghat , which is where the dead are burnt as per the Hindu rituals, while they carry their SLRs and and the Digital Archival Device(Camera dears), and return back to participate more vigorously in the exploits of the consumeristic mirage.
I seriously hope that we learn something, myself included.
P.S.
I dedicate this post to Anvita, who has inspired me to resume blogging again. I read her blogs very often and she is active in more than one blog. I like her stuff. Thanks Anvita.

Brokenhearted!!!

Here I sit
broken-hearted
Came to shit
But only farted
The above nugget is from Amit Varma, the blogger, who really writes.
I was starting to start, rather restart my blog and start it with the theme of fun from banaras.It is this image of banaras, kashi, varanasi that it is a very religious city, and the city with a ghat where the burning pyre has never died out, where people come to die and the widows are left uncared and neglected, where the riots take place , which is the centre of crime of eastern uttar pradesh.However, the above-said thing is true to some extent, and we must certainly do something to end and change some of it.But, there is another facet of banaras, which is largely unknown to people.The carefree banaras, the masti banaras, the bindas banaras, the funny banaras is hidden and vivid as well, just that, it needs some patience, to be intoxicated with the life of banaras.
The other day, a friend of mine named SS , who also lives in delhi, and runs a successful business, had come from banaras to earn a living, and had started as a salesboy, was commenting about the spiraling crime rate in banaras.SS said, "now when I have earned enough, I shall buy a car, and take it to banaras and move around and get kidnapped within three days of arriving there". Just when I was thinking that he would visit the people who might have doubted his entrepreneurial skills, and prove to them that he has done what he had wanted, he took to opposite direction , and mentioned the kidnapping , interlacing it with his success, and the hidden humor that is what I call a true Banarasi.
Similarly the the above post via Amit Varma, reminded me about the subtlety of Banaras.