Travel Diaries....a frogs View....!

                                                                           

Today, 30th of September, I am on my return flight from Zurich to Delhi.

We have been away travelling for last 40 days now. First to the United States and then on our way back, a four day sojourn to Switzerland. Second on the list of list for Neha, My wife.

In June 2018, when we moved to Gurgaon from Patna, I made some social network post, chest thumping of my self declared achievement. That was a rather personal satisfactory moment, not to get applauded by on Facebook.  Promptly and Rightly, Someone did point out, that I was making it sound as if I had shifted to New York. 

This post starts from New York. 

I haven’t shifted here, but the place is Home in my Heart Now.

As a family,  we have been based out of our humble village, which is back of beyond for, ever since “I”became “We.” 

Nineteen  years after we got married, moving to a big town, was a bigger achievement than living anywhere on the planet. 

My Elder Daughter Aarya, Muski As we call her. Had me convinced, on the destination and destiny  of her life. This day was being wished upon for many years and had the good wishes and all kinds of support of many good souls. 

In retrospect, it all looks obvious and maybe a cakewalk,  but I know, it is nothing short of a miracle. 

Having a dream and persistently walking towards it, not withstanding, your humble beginnings, narrow visibility from the place that we stood, it was like dreaming of a life on beach side, when we had the view from the bottom of a well.

Like the moment of moving to Gurgaon, Very few would actually understand this. Without prejudice. 

Besides, noting on experiences, this is my gratitude.
                                                                             

Three years back, Aarya, for her self known reasons, which I completely understand and support. Decided on just one place she wanted to go to after her school.  School of Visual Arts and New York City. I never thought, it would have been a possibility, She on the other hand, never thought otherwise. It was her decisiveness, that gave me strength. The universe conspired. 

We did have our moments of meltdowns and detours. It's for sure life is not going to be any easy after this.  An extremely steep climb it is.  but then, there is this thing about steep climbs, it makes us stronger, the view is amazing and we got company.

Who writes, travelogues these days. Its a thing of the past, maybe kids at school, as an academic exercise.

People travel all the time, for many its an mundane exercise. Thousands, or even lakhs of Indian students go out every year. No Big deal.

Well for Me, its a very very big deal, and If I had a way and was a little less lazy, I would write 1000 words for every day spent on this earth. Not caring whether anyone read them.

So Here it is,

We embark upon the journey of our lives, three of us, leaving one behind, Anjali, our little one at school,  for reasons strategic, compulsive, for that feeling of incompleteness and to have hopes and dreams for another day.

Everyday that moved towards this day, was eventful enough, from not taking Passports for the SAT test, Changing Date of Birth on the passport, that took us two years, three court cases and loads of bribery.  Nupur, truly, genuine friend helping us fill Visa forms and guiding us thru. The financial arrangements in the times of falling Rupee to Dollar, Which is just another story.  It was just one step at a time. 

I remember, when we were taking, professional help from Iris, my college friend to help us decide and guide thru US colleges, as she runs one of India’s top most Consultancy.  She gave us a fifty percent discount of what she charges, that too was a whooping amount for us. It was very doubtful that, we would ever be able to raise the money needed for the fee and even the consultancy fee would go in vain. Old mate Anu, for once had rationale and positive opinion. that, If we wouldn’t spend now, means we have already given up on the hope. So we did, make that payment, and followed it thru. I am glad we did that.

I exhausted almost all the money I was carrying even before I boarded the flight, booking booze at the Delhi Duty Free. It was good decision, as I knew I wont have a penny left for my booze shopping, on my return day. I was absolutely right.
                                                                                   

  

We arrived New York, in the evening. The  first sighting of The US, did not really go as per our expectations. Even the drive, from JFK to Downtown, East 23rd Street Airbnb wasn’t really too exciting. Could be various reasons, jet lag, maybe financial stress, such an ambitious project this would be, taking care of things back home. 

But, we did feel good having being able to make this happen. The Indian Driver, Banu who brought us home, got a fifty dollar tip,  I was Happy, he was very happy.

Neha and Muski, crashed immediately, even without taking their shoes off. I couldn’t sleep, and went down to take a stroll. It was Friday Night, we were at almost The happening part of town, it was buzzing.  For Me, there was this immense feeling of incompleteness.

Little later, I went and woke up Neha and Muski, took them out for a stroll.  Now, New York Grew on us. 

The Next Day, Neha, wanted a Nap in the afternoon. Ashish my College and Hostel Friend, who works on the wall Street, we hadn’t met for some 28 years, was kind enough, to take me on a stroll, a beer trail of sort, inside the New York breweries. We walked 15 kms for over 5 hours drinking some 20 kinds of beer. This is when I hadn’t slept for over 72 hours now. 

Next ten days we stayed in New York. Mornings, we did things associated with Muski’s College and later, we went on the sight seeing and experiencing the city.  The Statue of Liberty, the river cruise, Empire State, Broadway, Times Square, UN Building, whatever needed to be done, was done meticulously. Even the Suta Bombay Saree was well displayed by Neha at the glitz of Times Square and Broadway. I could even manage a quick lunch with a college friend, Rachna. Though, I had wanted a breakfast at Tiffany’s. It was booked for over a month. Its one amazing store though.

On the last day of NY, My School and Hostel Friend Padam, who lives in Albany, took us to watch the US Open. This was an amazing experience, thousands of Tennis lovers gather at just one place, this becomes a Mecca of Tennis. There are 4 different arena’s having a total capacity of seating 150 thousand people. its like a big festival of tennis. This was definitely an amazing experience.

Padam, took us all to his very beautiful House at Albany next day.  Rekha, his wife cooked us some amazing food. We learnt a lot how he took care of his kids and the mutual respect of parenting, even at a tender age of his children. Albany was a beautiful place.

 Neha’s First Cousin, Rajesh, Lives, in Phoenix. He was kind enough, to come all the way to the airport, along with his son, Sam. His 6 year old who grew really pally with me over the days.

It was at phoenix that we got a little calmed down. All this had been rather unusual, as during the days, we would be doing some activity or the other. And as it was time for us to sleep, India woke up. My phone and messages were on and things had to be taken care of back home. Invariably, I was awake after a few hours of nap and stayed on the phone. 

Grand Canyon was astonishing, Nature at its best, like an erupting Volcano, it leaves you in an awe. I wish I could see those ravines from the bottom. Sedona was Picturesque in the middle of the dessert. There are over 200 Golf courses in Phoenix, thats amazing.

Vegas, was like Kumbh or Benares, needs to be done every 4 years and definitely once in 16 years. instead of Faces of trust and faith, we saw faces content and happy. Lust and greed, momentary nature of Romance and love, lapse of reason , that thin line between everything right and wrong is so blurry here. It would be fair to say, it was New York on Steroids. I loved the place. It was frivolous, unnecessary, unrequited. It was America, it was simply LIFE.  It needs to be done again and again.

Shopping and more shopping. This place is about the innate human nature of greed. They just make you buy things you don’t want and don’t need.  Offers and more offers. We had to buy an extra suitcase to accommodate the rest, we were paying 85 dollars extra on every flight that we took, thats 5 flights X 85 we could have done all that shopping in Delhi and much more. 

I could also manage a feasibility presentation of my startup idea to a bunch of techies. Who could be prospective initial investors. 

Rajesh, Swati, Sansita and Sam. It was two weeks of family time, a new found family. An association we would love to endure and always remember. 
                                                                                

We stayed in an Hostel in San Francisco. First night had left us gasping for some fresh air. But we got used to it next day onwards.
 If I have made a mistake, I usually know it immediately. Even if rationale is experience. This was still doable. We went around, walking, cruising, bus rides. The Napa Valley Wine tour, muir woods et al. 


The sight of the Golden Gate Bridge is truly worth seeing.  The Cold breeze and Clouds, over the bridge, make it not just picturesque, but goes upto your bones.

Arvind, Anu’s Big Brother, Who lives in Menlo park, took us out for an Indian Lunch and guided tour to Stanford University, Google and Facebook campuses. He also, gave us some good suggestions for our enterprise. We also managed  to attend a startup workshop at silicon valley. Which I am sure will be rather helpful.

Neha’s First Cousin, Rohit and his wife Kamini live in Chicago, though we reached late that night. They were wide awake and we kept talking till the wee hours of next morning.  Next day, we went for a nice big tour to the city area, to get a glimpse of amazing equinox at sunset. The walks around the famed Al Capone trail and the boat rides, the river walks and just plain chill at home. An awesome experience.

By this time. I guess, it had been almost a month of travel and it was growing on us. 

One night again at New York , Muski came and stayed with us. 

Leaving her finally, gave us lumps in our throat. 

I guess, this was the day, we had been working upon all these years. 

One last leg was still awaiting us.

Switzerland. 

Even after, all that month of travel, and that heavy luggage I was tired of lifting floors over floors.  The first sight from the plane itself was mesmerising. We took a train to Lausanne, which was recommended if we had  a short visit.  The train journey, The view around the lake was, maybe like what lake Mansarovar would be. As beautiful with lovely Swans wading, calm and serene. Moreover, all that wine makes it so much better. The hotel was the best recommendation we could get.

This thing about my experiments and yearning for newer experiences. They do land us in trouble.  In wanting to experience more and different and to save some pennies, we landed ourselves on a yacht, hoping he would take us around sailing and we could spend more time and more places on the lake. I guess it was my limited understanding of French that we we never saved any penny, neither did we go to France for dinner. We landed back at Chateau d’ouchy for our meals and wines. We need to do this again.

We cut short our Lausanne stay and came back to Zurich, good decision. Caught up with a very old college friend, Tehiya . Who was kind enough to offer us drinks and dinner. Most of it she Took out time to come see us. The buildup to Oktoberfest was on at Zurich HB and, I need to do the real thing soon. Those Bavarian Women and all that German Beer is too much to resist.

Our stay at Zurich was again a good surprise, a playboy studio, high tech place, red and white and everything that you associate with playboy was right there. The masks, whips, shoes, lights, wigs, couches, The works. 

I have travelled before, to some very beautiful places. Most of the times, alone. I never liked the experience of not being able to share it. Being alone and lonely was a terrible thing. worse in pretty places.
This was a trip where I wasn't alone.
I realise being alone and lonely are two different things.
Also, I realise we pine for what is not.
That sense of incompleteness.
It satisfies me now.
This is what I had been looking for, not being content and still happy.

2017 - Year of Gratitude

There have been Years when I have gladly bid them good riddance.

Not this one, this one has been overwhelmingly full of pleasant surprises and it is imperative that I thank everyone, including GOD.

This year began with getting rid of my Gall bladder, which had been the cause of many of my ills for last years. I was told all that years of sulking had led to those acids forming into stone. Well I have gotten rid of it. Sulking, I am trying to get rid of.

I did manage to get the worst score with my new found love, Golf. I was the Wooden spoon holder this year, at the Patna Golf Club. The solace was, it can’t get worse than this. 

Like I would have ever foreseen it, our family of four is playing four ball.

We managed to start the School, back at our village, much needed and much awaited by the locals.  This was besides the note-bandi.  We managed with loads of hiccups, to form a brilliant and humble team, which worked relentlessly, consistently and totally self motivated. The efforts of this year, the founding year shall show in the years to come.

Both my kids managed to be at the same institution, which was not easy. The income tax had frozen my accounts and note-bandi had killed the cash out of market. That entire accumulated hefty fee could only be paid by the end of the year, but we managed.

We decided to set up a hospital and started working on it, this was and this surely won’t be easy but who needs easy. Deciding was the tough part.

As a family we took our first long road trip, 4200 kms, with my in-laws. It was rather brave and enduring experience. We all gained.

This year was perhaps the best Diwali of my life.  Things that I had just dreamt of all these years, like droplets of dew on flowers just gathered and added to my garden of memories. 

Small and big various unexpected moments, heartfelt conversations, people, person, places, travels and hope.

This is as good as it gets..!

The next year looks full of challenges and hopes, which surely is a wonderful thing to look forward to.

Heartfelt Gratitude.

Thank YOU… all, Thank you that …One…!

In Defence of Vijay Mallya

The Fundamental Economics of demand and price is being defied by Indian Firms.

Increase in Price reduces the demand of a product. As the price of money, in this case, Interest rates have gone up in India, the corporate indebtedness has significantly increased. So have the levels of bad debts in this country.

In almost all major economies of the world, interest rates are at an extremely low level. In the United Kingdom, interest rates have been at rock bottom for a decade. In Switzerland, they are close to zero. We have the recent case of Japan Where negative interest rates now exist.

For the 12 large corporate groups that account for 15% of all India’s debts, interest rates may be a theoretical construct that does not matter. For the hundreds of thousands of small businesses that borrow money, for the millions of small and marginal farmers, for the millions of consumers who need to borrow money to purchase housing, transport equipment and consumer durables, the Level of high interest rates has meant that the quality of life has been compromised for a generation or more.

Indian businesses, across the board, are financed by banks that are, in turn, financed by taxes, given that India’s banks are primarily state owned. Hence, for all practical purposes, India’s private corporate sector businesses are disguised public sector enterprises.

Undoubtedly, there is collusion, between, the lenders, borrowers, regulators and the political masters. One does not need to be a rocket scientist to figure out the rest of the story.

 So, how did the flamboyant kingfisher Vijay Mallya screw up?

Exactly the reason, in a jungle one needs to camouflage for survival, not be seen out of the crowd, and be vulnerable. The Indian banking sector is going down the drain and they needed a scapegoat to slaughter and be seen doing the right thing.

SBI is bigger than RBI in influence, also, too deep entrenched serving many masters over the years. There are no morals, no rules and no justice either at the top or at the bottom of the pyramid. It’s just about survival every day.

During the global financial meltdown of the last decade, governments were bailing out large corporate all over; the winds were conducive for such a dole in India too.

Mallya, a flamboyant Rajya Sabha member, having actually bought over, Hegde’s JD(S), was pushed on the front by the cunning lot of side watchers. Taxes on aviation fuel were high, making domestic airlines, bleed in their balance sheets.

Closing down the airlines, though, would have been a smarter move then, would have put the government and the rest of the economy on a negative mode.

So, the idea of a bailout was floated.

India is a socialist country, congress, realized they could not be seen helping the rich, especially, the known Mallya, so they offered him, more borrowings through, the SBI.  Other banks followed the big brother.

 Mallya had known then, where it all was heading, and eventually he headed to where he had to.

Nothing happened overnight.

The Ambani’s, Adani’s are too smart and stay camouflaged.

I have some personal experience about banking and indebtedness. Thus feel bad about Mallya.

In 2002, I borrowed Rs. 5 lakhs from SBI, by mortgaging property worth Rs. 10 lakhs, for an Agro Business. In 10 years my debt went up to Rs. 65 Lakhs, my property in mortgage value increased to Rs. 150 lakhs. Obviously, I must have paid the installments and interests for 10 years to get such an exposure.

We were a loss making company from day one.  The Agro Sector in a god forsaken, non industrious rural set up would take up more than a decade to make sense. The increase and renewal of my loan was only serving the interests and installments. Keeping me away from being an NPA or a Non Performing Asset.  Soon, I reached a state of default.

I wanted a restructuring, which was denied and subsequently, the draconian SARFESI was imposed, my property auctioned for mere Rs. 27 lakhs.

I had to pay Rs. 96 lakhs besides that as per the DRT order. And I am still a litigant, fighting for my property and trying to start afresh.

And I can’t get a loan anymore.

That’s SME banking in India and I am not the only one.

Maybe not a mansion, I am sure that Rs. 96 lakhs and some more would have got me a shack, in the same Southampton neighborhood as Mr. Mallya.

Breakfast with Reetika

Breakfast we are told is the most important meal of the day.

Having breakfast, with a soul of a clear mind, no minced words, a spiritual guru, a reki preacher, a la French teacher and a practicing Zen at the art of fast car driving, is just bliss.

For me it was providence.

Breakfast with Reetika, could not be planned, coincidence or just an opportunity.

Life and events of life happen is such a way, that it makes sense, usually late in life but sometimes instantly.

Maybe, the good people are wonderful thoughts and words are always around.  It’s just that one needs to be ready to see, hear and understand them. Same words get thru to you, on different levels at different times.

I am always in turmoil.

At times more,

My 16 year old daughter is 16 and Daughter.

It’s rhetorical, but I have never been a father to a 16 year old daughter before.

Reetika has been there, done that and composed her thoughts well.

Thus, the well received sermons.

Reetika is Pushpendra’s better half, and Puspendra is an old friend from School days, who doesn’t remember me at school. 

They run a hotel at Jaipur, Jaipur Inn. An extremely well intended, simple, affordable but graceful accommodation, for budget tourists.  To, me it reminds me of my old Hostel at Brij Nikunj, the upholstery, the toilets, the beds, people and the place. I just love being here.

At least four times a year, we drop in and park ourselves and stay for days, without missing home.

She must have realized the state of my mind. The couple called me over for breakfast, one day and then rest of the days, I am around.

I talk, usually, no wisdom, but just my mind, nothing to read between lines. I have more than many words where a comma could do.

Reetika is unwilling to listen to my garble and doesn’t mince to point that, I don’t need to talk so much.

I am propagating negative energy when I elaborately dissect my problems of now and past, trying to link things, justify actions.

Stop making other peoples life your purpose.

I am a pervert and decomposed mind.

Hah..!! Huh..!

No need, one just needs to focus on the positive things.

Joy, everything, everyday should be effort towards this one goal.

Anything else is just an excuse.

Yep! I kind of agree now…! Me including, we think we are what we are for the choices and circumstances of the past.  It is true! So what!

Life moves on, without you having a say in it, so might as well find a purpose, which makes you happy and go seeking it.

Reetika usually has a single word for your long stories. What’s amazing is that single syllable is so appropriate, it just registers and lights up your bulb.

I always look up to my Breakfast, with these conversations, the energy intake just doubles.

We have Pushpendra’s for proof, he walks up to Nahargarh fort every now and then.

Thank you Reetika!

Na Dava Na Daru - A Case against Prohibition

“Baykhari” or “Bhuskhar” is the Bihari word for Silo’s or Granary.

 It’s like a thatched conical mud house, lined with dry hay and grains stored within.

 Besides the utility of storage of grains free from pests and humidity, it’s a symbol of security, prosperity and pride. Still, in Villages, we count the number of “Baykhari” one has before giving our daughters in their family.  

My Late father used to tell me, that during the late sixties the Congress government came with a rule that, all farmers have to sell their grains to the government and government only. One was allowed to keep only a few sacks of grains in their house, just for consumption. 

The police along with the concerned department used to raid farmer’s premises, take all the grains stored and destroy the “Baykhari”. Thereby destroying ages old, a functioning system of agro storage and agrarian balance.  Destroying also their prosperity, ages old symbol of pride and chances of a good bride for their sons.

Please find a relevant article here: http://ccs.in/parking-space-poor-restrictions-imposed-marketing-movement-agricultural-goods-india

Of course, it didn’t last long, as farmers stopped growing; there was scarcity of food and famine followed. It was overzealous socialism and governments perceived morality of spoon feeding the poor nation called India.

In a similar move, the State of Bihar, through its elected members of legislative assembly, unopposed.  One fine morning decided that the Bar in my house, a symbol of prosperity and pride, is an illegal Silo and the contents of it, acquired with so much of effort, through various travels, is dangerous for the poor people of this state, also immoral.

Not much has changed since then it seems.  As the Nitish Kumar Government in Bihar, imposes complete ban on alcohol, not a single individual or group or civil society opposed it or even showed some signs of resistance.

On the other hand, Nitish Kumar has formed a Mahila Brigade to showcase his high ground on morality. Who beat drums, play with colors and burst crackers in favor of prohibition. 

It’s a staged performance, paid by the tax payers’ money, as these groups run state sponsored NGO’s, some of them housed in govt. buildings.

Undoubtedly, inebriated men had become a social nuisance in Bihar, especially in villages during last 10 years.  

Shri Kumar was the CM for these years. The booze shops increased from mere couple of hundreds to over 6000. Shops were allowed to have a drinking area too, even allowed to operate in residential and educational area.  Mr. Kumar’s logic was the govt. needs the revenue. The revenue shot up from 150 crores to 4000 crores.

Then, like the Great Samrat Asoka, Nitish had a change of heart and like Asoka, from the great warrior and war monger  became the most powerful preacher of Buddhism and peace. 

Nitish wishes to become the preacher of prohibition. 

Like Asoka, learnt that wars never get over and are expensive way to remain a renowned king, piggy backing on Buddha would make him immortal.

Nitish would make this a national issue and walk his way to the immortal chair of the Indian Prime Minister. 

Asoka did succeed to a large extent, time shall tell about Shri Kumar.

But, Sir Ji, Wars didn’t stop after Asoka and neither will the flow of alcohol, after you try to piggy back Gandhi.

Yesterday, one of my co-villagers was arrested from his house, consuming his daily dose of whiskey.  Arrested under section 47(a) of Excise laws.  We were told someone complained, thus his house was raided.  To know later, Panchayat elections are due and people are settling scores. That’s how law takes its selective turn.

The punishment is 5 to 10 years of prison for possessing, consuming or manufacturing of alcohol and in some cases death sentence too. Now that’s what we call a resolve.  

The state goes to sleep at 9 pm now. Clubs and hotels have halved their staff.  People packing for Delhi and other places.   Marriages, parties, seminars are being postponed, cancelled or moved away to other destinations.

I am sure all these people were drunkards and a bane to the Bihari society, better in other places than here.   Laloo during his arrogant days, made sure that the trader community got out of this state, leaving behind caste ridden backward and prejudiced society, a fit place to run by a nincompoop. Still, he knew his basics well; he liberated toddy and the Pasi community from the socialist congress and removed the licensing on the age old profession.

The other day, I happened to travel with my journalist friend for a story on the effect of the ban on the lives of the Pasi community.  We went to the houses of those tree climbers, their women were in tears, there was no food for last few days, as these people earn on a daily basis. Even a single day without work has direct effect on their stomach.  Police has been harassing them and breaking their utensils. Even their political leaders have abandoned their cause as they are a part of the govt. and the unanimous passing of the legislation.

Initially, the ban was supposed to be in two phases, first was ban on so called country liquor, which is nothing but flavored alcohol made out of simple distilled molasses spirit.

Later, it might have been extended to so called IMFL, whatever, that means its branded booze. Also, now, the state beverage corporation would sell them from their own 650 shops across state.

The aggrieved manufacturers and shop owners had gone to court, seeking injustice, main argument being, if booze is bad, even IMFL is booze, why should country liquor be singled out. 

Does it mean, rich have the right to drink and poor don’t? 

On the 5^th of April, the case was up for hearing, a day before that, some 50 state run shops that were to open weren’t allowed by the vigilant citizens, as they were being opened in residential areas. The mood was set for anti booze. Mr. Kumar realized his weak wicket, before the court went to hearing they decided to implement full ban. 

Putting the parties on back foot. Now, they would have to go to the drawing board again.  He cited that, there was immense support from the masses for prohibition.

Thick skin Politicians have a knack for making hay in adverse situations.

   

The Bihar Booze industry which was almost an 80K crores business, suddenly had no takers. As if no one knew who was drinking all that stuff.

There are mainly two reasons why everyone kept quiet. Primarily, the issue of morality, perceived misplaced hypocrite morality. 

Not to call a spade a spade is a civil society norm.

Second, no one wants to be seen on the wrong side of the law. 

When Nitish was on a liquor shop opening spree in 2006, the aggrieved, especially the women of the house, kept quiet and let it happen. The law was supporting the drinking business.  

Now, he is closing all shops and putting drinkers behind bars, the law supports thus better to keep quiet.

For a society to flourish, dissent is the most important ingredient.  What we have since ages instead, is hope filled yes Sayers, some have vested interest and some are just too lazy to dissent. 

They are hopeful that good things will eventually come forth.  

Oh! They will, but with your dissent.

What shall eventually happen is, bootlegging and mafia and deep rooted nexus and very powerful certain group of people and some real hooch tragedy death and death of a society. 

Good men sipping their adulterated scotches in steel glasses in quiet corners of their homes, reliant on goons for their supply and the goons shall sit on the sprawling lawns of MLA quarters and gulpthe real thing.

As for me, its Dava Daru.

A co - villager told me a certain remarkable thing.  “It’s called DAVA - DARU” meaning Medicine and liquor go together.  One has to have Daru like a Dava, Alcohol like medicine, in the right dose, not less not more for good health.

A Reluctant Liberalist.......Rest In Peace, Mr. S.V. Raju

S. V Raju Passed away a few days back. He was 81.

A mentor to me and some one who nurtured and ignited my mind, cleaning my slate filled with loads of ill conceived notions. 

He was the editor of the liberal magazine, freedom first, long time convener of the Indian liberal Group. 

The project for economic education, the Leslie sawheny program and a few more, which he made survive till his dying day.

The High court case, filed by Swatantra party against the swearing on the socialist constitution, continues for last 35 years or so. It was Raju who filed it and pursued it.

The office of PEE and discreetly of Swatantrata at Army Navy building, was amid litigation never given up, it was Raju, who led the battle.

Raju or Mr. Raju as he was fondly called, was the last official torch bearer of the erstwhile Swatantra Party, a liberal political  alternative founded by C. Rajagopalachari or Rajaji, Mino Masani, N. G. Ranga   and other Visionaries.

Some of the influencing liberals of those times included known faces like the Maharani of Jaipur, Gyatri Devi and Raja of Ramgarh, Kamakhya Narain Singh; with 19 of 44 seats that Swatantra had won as the main opposition to Nehru’s congress party.

Raju was the personal secretary to Rajaji, much later to become the executive secretary at the fag end of the party in the seventies, when Minoo Masani was old and still flying the Swatantrata flag with the white star in the middle of the blue sky, the election symbol of the party.

Of course, the party is no more. A part of it merged with the Janta party, then there were internal feud and court cases from other stalwarts, though, and technically the Maharashtra Swatantra party still exists. 

Raju, having spent time with Rajaji and Masani all his life and seen the end of Swatantra, had learnt a lot from the demise of the great movement.  

With euphoria in the times of socialism, Liberalism was lost, so were the hero’s forgotten, being ahead of their times.  Then, it was the 1990’s and Manmohan Singh happened to India, Liberal economics and liberalism was being confused. People were looking for answers; Masani was no more, it was all left to Raju to make whatever out of it.

He had a job to do; he was at best doing what he did. But, then there was no Rajaji and no Masani. He was a reluctant Activist, who did his job.

He kept the dialog on, sprouts of liberal or so called liberal activists and groups came up, individuals wanting to be under an umbrella, still not wanting to lose their individuality and merge.Joshi started shetkari sangathna and later the Swatantra Bharat party, eventually to take Shiv sena support in Rajya sabha, later we see, Jayprakash Narayan  aligning with BJP.  This was the time, there was immense pressure on restarting Swatantra, and possibly it would have succeeded, if Raju had the ability like that of Rajaji.

But he was Raju not Rajaji.

He was reluctant, there were differences, and rarely did he take firm stand, when people saw his as the liberal epitome, but he had seen the great party fall, and he was over cautious, better to have a good memory then an uncertain future. The party of course, never happened.

Indian Liberal Group was revived, instantly having strong 3000 members, across India. It was a think tank and a platform.  Like the Indian railway platform, we kept waiting for the party to come across, which never came. Instead came, the NGO style activism, looking for funds for seminars and conclaves.   Some sycophancy of prearranged voting’s on agenda’s and resolutions. Swatantrata core was being lost and soft socialism was creeping in. This drove the activism out.

Some of us quit by writing heartfelt letters.  Raju wrote back, “you shall need to die to leave the organization, you see, you are life members”. We used to meet for courtesy calls and some common platforms.

He was the keeper to a glorious political inheritance. He had seen the infighting and factionalism in Swatantra, so he was suspicious of people trying to steal the legacy, he had major differences on petty things, disliked anyone who was trying to preach liberalism other than him. Once he yelled at me for idolizing Ayan Rand or befriending any other right thinkers. He called them poachers.

He used to say, “Two liberals have three views” “let’s agree to disagree”.  But then he was a human and an Indian. He did have his soft spots and fell prey to sycophancy same thing he abhorred.

With my deficit in intellect, I used to have a lot of open probes with him to fill my void.

“Congress and its policies are bad for the country and its men, but RSS and BJP combine is enemy of mankind”. Well, some of the good people he had known did write lately that he had supported Modi. This is not strange.

If the BJP could steal, Patel, Gandhi and Ambedkar’s legacy, Swatantrata being the main opposition to congress, becomes a natural ally to the BJP, does it not.

This was exactly, why Swatantrata was needed Mr. Raju.

May your soul rest in peace

Sauvik Chakraverti - an antidote to life - Rest In Peace.

There has to be something as compelling as this to get back to facebook,
Sauvik chakraverti is no more, well not on earth as a physical being at least.

I have very faint idea of where he was born and all that necessities required for a proper obituary.
but, he surely was born and lived and walked this planet, more living and loud than many of us.

He instigated, like me many others to think before thinking, and still more thinking before speaking and deeper still before writing.
A few people who could change the way you perceive and live your life,  for me, it was either Ayan Rand or Sauvik.
A Guru in true sense,
An absolute chest out  libertarian, loud and very loud.
A little flinch or hesitation in your thought process could bring out a thousand decibel FUCK YOU from him!
He couldn't care less!
In Brief, Governments and taxes are absolutely unnecessary. Socialism is a disease. Individual is the king, Religion is a sole mans discretion. Smoke your guts out!! Brew your own booze.

Be thrifty with words, use two, when you could express in two.

I am lucky to have known him and filled his chilam now and then.
Couriered half a kilo of Baluchar from bhagalpur, in a 800 page book, carved from inside.
Smoked, Malana at the bar counter of Delhi Gym with Soli Sorabji staring.

There could be no one as clear and concise in thoughts on Society and Government.

He studied at the worlds best institutions, quit as a serving IPS, and just lectured and wrote against the Socialist Governments. Won many acclaims and much more hearts.

Many Feared him, even friends, so many times, cautioned, be aware of Sauvik, he is better to read than listen.

Well, Good bye Friend, Words are all we have.

Say Cheese! The Tina way!

There is this air of settlement, simplicity and peace around her.

She is casual but flowing, her un-kept grey strands of hair, say's it all.

There is no way that one could guess her age or the reason behind her permanent ambiguous smile. 

One would actually feel like asking for the ingredients of her blissful state, so visible on her face and everywhere.

She would answer all your questions without a hitch, without holding back and among the ingredients, there would surely be “cheese”.

Tina is a personality all by herself, needs no introduction for once you have met her.

I had no idea whatsoever of her celebrity status, that of being the wife of Mansoor khan, the director of some big Hindi films, when I first met her.

Not in any way undermining the achievements of Mansoor, I would surely give a major portion of the credit to his wife for 25 years.

Mansoor, much like me, a man of excesses, is hard to control, had to have this better half in his life to lead a stable life.

Having walked out of the rat race, living here at a farm near connoor, Tina runs a farm “wild acres” teaches Cheese making to the enthusiasts, manages the farm and produces some amazing organic cheese made from milk of her own cows, Holstein Frisian to be specific.

She always talks sense and talks well, loves her wine, bakes her bread, reads well, listens carefully and teaches with passion.

The history, the raw material, the ingredients, the temperature, the timings, washings, curds, culture, tenet, containers, weights, varieties and all the details with finesse of every cheese around the world, is engraved in her mind so beautifully, that her teaching and making of cheese, both look like a poem or an artist with her paint brush, it just flows and even after 12 hours on the floor the face of this untiring women glows.

I have just spent a few days with the lady and our conversation was much around the farm and cheese, me having an affinity for milk and compulsion with farm, did wish to get inside her head to know what has gone into making of her, maybe I would have been too intrusive, but whatever it is, she is surely seen a large portion of a life, that many haven’t, there has to be another ingredient that makes personalities like her!

Till then, its chalk and cheese.

Winner takes it all…..?!

Languages have their limitations!

  “Jo jeeta wo sikandar”

 Mansoor Khan, the director of the this path breaking Hindi film divulges that a lack of expression, something between a question mark and an exclamation mark, in the title of this film led to a misunderstanding of the title and eventually the meaning of the film.

 Does the winner take it all? Is success so important for life to be purposeful? Who prescribes the posts and pillars of success? Does one have to be successful in the eyes of the society, eventually it’s the others who would set up benchmarks for you?

 Mansoor, acknowledges, that this film was his story. He did not prescribe to the milestones setup by the society, he did not belong to the film industry, preferred sailing instead! In the eyes of the world, he failed at sailing and was a “sikandar” at films!

 Some eight years back, Mansoor, along with his wonderful wife Tina and their two children moved out bag and baggage from the tinsel town and settled in a 30 acre farm at connoor, near Ooty.

 It’s a rare thing, who has the heart to walk out of such a life, into such a life, though many would, just might fancy in some of those moments.

 It was ironical, here! There was me, doing this farming business hardly out of choice, not that I dislike what I do, but guess, it’s an ideal situation to succeed in the eyes of the society, like Mansoor, and then follow your heart.
 Mansoor and Tina, manage, “the wild acres” in the foothills of Nilgiris, not so picturesque, but surely quiet and serene. Lovely weather, warm staff like family, amazing food, no TV, no cacophony, just bliss.

 Clouds swiftly make into your window, varieties of wild flowers and many a species of birds, bison grazing in the foyer, boars crossing streets, monkeys at the dining area and elephants uprooting his fig trees. That’s just quaint as it gets.

 Mansoor, shares his failures here more gladly. The farm has been making losses, like all farmers of this country; he is redoing his calculations and strategies every now and then.

 Cow shed is an expensive exercise; bison’s and elephants do not let vegetables grow, government licenses are hard to get, manpower is unavailable and expensive, market is low and far.

 Welcome to my world.

Saint Xavier's Jaipur - Time Travel

Just travelled back in time,
Lush green lower field on the outskirts of Thar,
Saint Xavier’s it was, great legends in blue, dribbling their way to glory,
How we ran to get their attention, slices of lime along with Gopal,
Anand Singh Junia blowing his might into that whistle,
Ashraf’s sprint across that wing, daulat’s boom to that soccer,
It all came back with that one look into his face,
Though the calendar showed 2011 across that table at club,
I could have sworn, I was eight and the year was 1978

On the morning of Christmas,
Searching that turn for Brij Nikunj,
I was twelve and the year was 1982
It was auntie’s Birthday,
And we were five of those 28,
Biju, Ripu, Vineet and Tonu, with the perfect hosting from that little that Shivani was
Every second was a reminiscence and the child within the adults were just giggling to silly,
We missed the others and the lady much

Later that evening,
Among the batch of 86 at john’s house
My seniors were as young as me,
As it was then it was now,
Nothing had changed,
Not Jai or Prashant,
Neither Anuj nor Nitin,
Wives and kids had gladly let the men be boys one more day

A day later,
Holding my kids, spouse on side,
A walk into that hall,
Time had no meaning now,
There stood twelve years of my life,
Every face that I knew and all those who feigned to know me,
Their age, their memories had just left them with a glowing smile,
And I stood with droplets in my eyes,
For it didn’t matter if Junia recognized me or Maya David would know me!
As long as I had seen them once more,
I remembered my father that moment the most,
Wish he could see these tears,
I had earned them well

That night later,
The year was 1990
And all of them must be forty now,
As they were all drunk and didn’t matter what,
Wives were smiling or smirking, it didn’t matter either,
Hugs and swears, promises and apologies,
It was definitely not the end,
How the crowd thinned and no one asked how we earn our bread,
This is school and it is just emotion, commotion and pure, not an iota of greed

For all of us,
I just hope that there is a tomorrow.

Nirmala Singh – a legend in making

Never have I felt before, what I have just experienced. Spending a day with someone, who is about to be a legend, a story waiting to be written.

I hope to be the first one to acknowledge it.

Six years back, when I first met Aunty, Nirmala Singh, Wife of late Dr. Surjan Singh, a leading scientist with the Indian govt. she seemed to be an ordinary middle age, Delhi women, well to do, who in the memory of her late husband wished to do something useful for the village he belonged to and with her life.

Over dinner we discussed her vision, to which, then, frankly I was a little skeptic of its long term survival. In my own enthusiasm of free thinking and belief in complexity of things suggested many a things, that surely would have taken her initiative another way, more towards doom.

And, thus with this skeptic attitude, though, I was around the initiative, it was more for the socialite cause than the social cause.

Adharshila, a school for children, who otherwise, would never enroll in a school, In a remote village called Kohra, near Kanpur, Uttar Pradesh. This “remote” comes from a person, himself, living in a dusty village of Bihar. Kohra is seriously remote.

A sixty km. journey takes 2 hrs. Roads that would put craters to shame, undulating fields, no irrigation facility, one crop a year, perhaps cattle fodder or sugarcane, of course no electricity or clean drinking water, govt. run schools, which runs only on the rolls. People still cook food on wood fire, and you can see the tiniest of stars on a dark night and perhaps the whole village would know who snores, it’s so silent, you can still get a sumptuous meal for Rupees ten, I am ashamed; my village can’t boast such niceties.
Aunty, waited late at midnight, in that very silence for her chief guest to be by default, that’s me, she was disappointed, to have me alone, as others were unable to come due to cancellation of trains. But then she had an important day ahead, as long as she had a decoy, the enthusiasm of the staff and kids would not dampen all that bad.
She was busy right from day break to midnight the next day, it was the sixth annual function of Adharshila, on the birthday of her late husband who had envisioned such a dream, which aunty set out to accomplish.

Every nitty gritty was personally attended to, with grace and composure, which would put the best organizer to shame. Of some 250 students, at least half of them would have participated in the programs; an eight year old master of ceremonies in somewhat impeccable English went on introducing the programs, skits and plays with morals woven around, songs and anthems, speeches and jokes. There wasn’t a moment when the audience was lost.
Aunty had known each one of them, all the programs must have been rehearsed many a times, as I could see her lisping with the kids. As the day ended, and till the last kid did reach home, she was attending the parents.
In that pitch dark night as we sat by the fire of the kitchen having dinner, the warmth around the family was more than that fire. I couldn’t help noticing her swelled feet, the day had taken its toll on her health, she must be in her seventies and 90 kg plus, all that walking and flights of stairs was not something one can pursue as career for long.
“This was winters, how do you manage the summers?” I couldn’t help asking, this kitchen fire would be a bane then, and the dusty open roads in this barren field would be too much, the rains still would bring in slush and mud! Wondering, if she had some backup, from this, too much of reality. Even a villager like me, could not accept the fact that someone would do this out of sheer choice.
“Hah! Been there, done that” that’s all she had to say! The smile on her face said everything, “you guys have responsibilities, and do it well!” I didn’t know what to make of it! Here was a women, who has traveled the world, owned houses in the metro’s , have a very well settled lineage, a big family and she chooses to come and spend rest of her life in the village of late husband. Where basic necessities of life need to be struggled for everyday, when health and security should be a normal human beings priority, she goes on wiping the noses of toddlers.

While serving hot rotis’s right from the fire, she says “wish I could serve you some good Chinese food here, but then you guys always get that opportunity, try some of this today” after a pause, she goes on in a soft voice, “kids, even us, used to spend so much of money over frivolous things, a Chinese dinner would cost you five thousand or something, how I wish, people could spare that money for Adharshila”

Well Aunty, here’s a promise I make to myself, every time, I would have Chinese, I would save the bill, and write a cheque of a similar amount to Adharshila!
let me call it, "chopsticks for adharshila"

Don’t know if that could be a little contribution, I could do to change the lives of those you have devoted your life to, but it sure is meant to provide a whiff of fresh air to your spirit, a small initiative, tiny in comparison to your purpose, but perhaps, we could find a few similar and many addicts to ajinomoto!

You are an inspiration, I am proud to have known, how I hope I could dare to walk a few similar steps.

Aunty –Rest in Peace

Aunty, passed away two weeks back.
Mrs. Chitra Singh, perhaps around 60 years old, breathed her last in a hospital in Bombay, suffering from leukemia.
She leaves behind a very loving husband and caring daughter and a son, all well settled.
She also left behind many of us who have forgotten her care in the years when our loved ones were far.

It was in 1981 or 82, that the hostel at St. Xavier’s school, Jaipur, decided to close the hostel part. We were around 200 of us in the hostel. I must have been eleven then.
We had all come to study at Jaipur from far off places all over the country, with diverse backgrounds; closure of the hostel would have meant a very difficult time reallocating, for all of us.
Her son, Nirlipt was a junior and living in the hostel with us and perhaps empathizing with the anguish of the parents, his parents decided to open their Jaipur residence for a accommodation for the really needy boys. Later, I was told, this was auntie’s personal decision which her husband whole heartedly supported. Though, in those days me like others thought it was a business decision, only realizing now, it could only be a women who would justify passion with rationale.

We had all called her aunty. We were 28 of us. 10 year old to 18 year olds, in an unprofessional run hostel but with the personal care and caress that only a deep hearted family could provide, with many a emotional events that concurred during the period of 9 years when the hostel closed, till everyone of us passed out of school, me being the last of the inmates of Brij Nikunj, had a ring side view of those years.

As we all left to find our own pastures and destiny in a pre cell phone and Facebook era, many of us can hardly relate to this gap of so many years and era’s. Like me, I am sure, many of us would have been postponing the day, till at some point we must have been wanting to thank aunty and the family enough. Perhaps waiting for that right moment when we could showcase, how the sapling had grown, which they had nurtured in those difficult years.
I am not sure how many of us had the opportunity and a chance to meet aunty in last few years. I did, meet her with my family a few years back, thank god for that, or else I would have had to repent all my life.
If where ever she is, does have an internet connection and manages to be one of the few who do occasionally read this space. I would like you to know, that, there hasn’t been a day or night that I have not thought of your face ever since I heard of your demise. I needed to thank you enough, for whatever, I am today, I am happy for the fact that you were a part of my life then and will be a cause of my nature and destiny. No human is perfect, and it is in these imperfections that I find peace and strength.

You will always remain an inspiration, a symbol of care to me.
Love you Aunty!

P.S - Though, I do find solace in the possibility that my father might be in good company up there!

REST IN PEACE PAPA

It’s exactly been two dark moons since papa passed away.
Sri Ram Kumar Singh, fondly called Lapetu Singh, born 6th of July 1948 at village Maniyarpur, District Vaishali, Bihar passed away on the 3rd of May, 2011 at around 1 A.M, inside the sanctum sanctorum of the age old Shiva temple the family deity, in a rather dramatic way, like his life had been lately.
Ever since, the episodes of last year, his perhaps only goal in life now appeared to be the resurrection of the dilapidated temple, in a record time of 10 months he had managed to construct a 81 feet, 3000 sq ft structure and was about to do the final rituals a few days later.
None of us were pleased with this single agenda program of his and had hardly cooperated. We didn’t see this coming, except for a lesser dangerous ailments like epilepsy, atrophy of the right brain and high blood pressure, he was a normal physically and a normal death would have been at least 20 years later.
But of course, rationality is subjective and in the most suited manner the man with the utmost pride walked out of his house in the middle of the dark night, prayed to his ancestors and worshiped his deity, seeked forgiveness from the souls he was leaving and slept the deepest slumber ever in the foot of his god with an absolute calm and peace on his glowing dead face.

Born to a 53 year old father Sri Nagina Singh and his second wife Uma Devi an 18 year mother, he was the only son and hope for the seven families of brothers and cousins who had no issues or hope left of continuation of their lineage, the family together owned 1200 acres of Zamindari then.
Father Nagina Singh had no interest in the property and lived with the British in Patna, running a motor company, in his early days he had lost his wife and kids in an epidemic and it was only in his last days of his life that he came back to the village, denouncing everything he had earned.
Papa lived his early life in Patna, but would travel often to the village and was pained to see his cousin grandfather the then “Malik” blowing wealth and the inhuman treatment he meted out the lower strata of society.
Papa turned a communist and would often boast to us later the big names he was associated with while running the communist party elections in Patna. After the death of the then Malik, Shree Panchu Singh, who ruled with an iron fist and, his father had no choice but to return to Zamindari.
Papa dropped out of his college pursuing the science degree, much to the annoyance of his father and engaged himself into the matters of property.
Soon the communist had turned into a Zamindar himself fighting the Government against land ceiling and the “parcha’s” distributed of his property to the poor he stood for against his grandfather a few years back.
He made his father stand for the elections of “Mukhiya” and had him uncontested take that post for next 20 years till his time of death. The government till date has not been able to acquire a single inch of land from the property he inherited, though my father must have sold at least 800 acres of land in his life.
Married at an early age of 20, he was broken the news of his wedding two days before his wedding, my mother Asha Singh, was 19 then, daughter of a Doctor and also came from a family of zamindar. Just that the priorities were different there and here. Back in their family, they would go for shikaar, have partridges and wild boar for dinner almost every day and sold land to have a feast.
While here, there were widows of seven families to be taken care, their sisters and some two dozen rustic managers. Husband had turned into a full time farmer, ploughing land as he could not sell due to the land ceiling cases. There would be an army standing every second day to violently settle the border issues of landed property.
But life was good for them as everyday was an adventure.
Father to two sons and three daughters, all been provided good opportunity for education, in different corners of the country, in a situation in those days, with hardly any civil society around, guns were one thing, we have seen in our early days, people walking with spears and other improvised arms walking around in their daily routines, bullock cart and horses and boats for travel as far as 20 kms to Hajipur the nearest Kasbah, all of this was till the late eighties. Father had the vision to send us all out in those days, when he was still grappling with a double barrel gun and an army of spear men to perform his farming.

Given the situation, he excelled in his work, he was one of the active forces of the green and white revolution, the way he used the laws to save his property, in fact to an extent to reclaim what the family had lost over the years, is nothing short of brilliance.
Somehow, his lateral approach to life, though led to excellence in the projects he overtook, he lost out on a few essential things in life.
Passion, love and happiness.
He was a simpleton who still wore a lungi at home and a polyester shirt he must have bought in seventies. All the Arrows and Marks and Spencer’s still have the collar pins intact, the ones he was being gifted by friends and family.
Neither was he able to spend time with family nor did he make many friends and thus turned a loner till late. Living a solitary life in Maniyarpur,happy with his quintessential marijuana and bhang trying to make a heaven here, he forgot that home is where heart is. It’s made of humans and not of bricks and mortar. He was a friend of the latter, built a 20 inch thick 20 ft tall wall around his 2 acre campus, a three floored house with some 12 rooms and as many toilets and large halls and balconies for two people to live.
Various small and big halls and stores were continuously being made every year.
It was this affinity of his and that I had used to get my factory constructed without me spending a penny.
He must have spent a very handsome amount of money in his lifetime and the reason he had a few thousand rupees in his savings. He was just a spender.

Over the years he has left a very well organized and a consolidated empire of real estate, which could be taken to a next stage, but he has left a long list of people who kept waiting for his hugs and kisses and some good words.
He was an intense human being, extreme and unpredictive. But then who says all has to be well.
We have formed a trust yesterday, “SRI RAM KUMAR SINGH MEMORIAL MANIYARPUR SHIVALAY SAMITI TRUST” and wish to continue a little of his wishes of maintaining the temple that he was committed to and much more like building schools and hospitals and meeting out other human needs good in nature.
Many people will have many words for him; there were thousands to walk barefoot to the Ganga for his last rites, women who brought their children to touch his feet, mostly people he had never met, poor who could get sweets and feast only when someone like him dies. It is these people whom the trust will address to.
You had a right brain atrophy, which restricted you to think right.
The least we can do is think for your deeds.
REST IN PEACE PAPA.