Gopal’s Wedding -- Treasure Hunt Part 1

Treasure Hunt – Gopal’s Wedding

“Happy birthday dear Gopal” my sister was the first person to call me on the morning of 19^th March 2010.I was happily relishing my birthday moments, then a thought crossed my mind and my smiling face turned a little gloomy. It’s my 29^th birthday and I was still ‘single’. Few days back I had read the news that a 14 year old (less than half of my age) boy in Britain had become a father. I felt ashamed on my backwardness and passe

d a stern resolution, first time in my life. I would be a married person on my next birthday.

I identified tools like newspaper, matrimonial sites and relative’s network, which could help me successfully meeting my resolution. I marked my office, neighbouring library, sports complex as possible ‘treasure’ hunt spots. Now I was firm to get married; let it be arranged, love, forced love or compromised love. But I found internet the most convenient and handy tool to enter into the arena of ‘Treasure Hunting’. I took out my best photo for making my profile on the matrimonial site. It was the best because it did not show my receding hair line, it was pimple free, my weight was under the obese category and most importantly I was smiling in that photo. These days smiling face is in high demand. It sells like a hot cake. It’s affordable to have one or two tooth less or have a dark complexion but without a smiling face getting a girl is next to impossible. My best friend had once confided in me this ‘top secret’. I wrote all the adjectives which I had learnt so far in my life but didn’t possess, in ‘About Me’ section of the profile. Some of the golden decorative adjectives were charming, loyal, down to earth, cultured, friendly etc. My preference for the bride was “her age should be between 21-24 years”, “she should be fair( the most important) “,”preferably working” and all other well-known attributes expected from an Indian bride like homely, religious, good in cooking, good in singing and a lot more.

Checking profile daily became part of my job, even more than that. No contacts, no interests were shown by anyone for a month. Then I thought to revisit my preference list as currently it was very near to ‘Six Sigma’. So I decided to make few adjustments in that. I pushed preferable upper age limit to 25 and left working status of bride blank. I also deleted some of the typical bride attributes I had earlier mentioned, like religious and expert cook. After these changes, I was quite sure of success. I kept on checking my profile religiously everyday but success was still elusive to me. Another month passed. But in these months, matrimonial site kept on sending me their promotional offers for paid membership.  These offers looked bizarre to me like 100 contact numbers in just Rs 1500 as if they have exclusive hold  on’ yellow pages’. I kept on turning blind eye to these offers as I was confident on my profile. Seeing no success, I thought to overhaul my profile. I took out my most stylish and modern photos with specs and luxury sedan of my neighbour in the background. I altered my salary slab and added new hobbies like photography, adventures, fishing and swimming which I had never tried in my life. Two more months passed and with each passing day my curiosity and my resolve to get married faded away. Then one day I checked my profile and jumped with joy like a magic ball. Someone had shown interest in me. I didn’t know what fetched that long awaited ‘glory’. Was that altered salary slab or my photo with black spec s or swimming?? I opened her profile. Her face raised my thick black eyebrows two centimeters high and my teeth responded with grin. I consoled my heart with these words “what lies in face, go to details”. Few lines of her profile were, “I am an innocent girl” as if she had been summoned in court. “I want life time relationship”; I was also not for part time relationship. ” I get emotional on small things”; I thought what would happen on big things. I thought to continue with my wait with the hope of getting a better option. Within a week, I got one more jackpot. A new interest arrived in my profile. I opened her profile. It had no photo. It’s big turnoff to start. I started reading ‘About Me’ section of her. ”I am an independent girl”; I wondered either she born on 15^th august 1947 or I were slave to someone. “I am a big Sharukh Khan fan”. That was enough for me to close the browser and put my hands over my head. I thought could being someone’s fan a description of someone?? Is being a Sharukh’s fan, a special quality for a girl or they become some different kind of female species??

The treasure is still elusive to me but the hunt is on.

Mahakumbh 2013

Human Sea at the bank of a River

It was 13^th Feb 2013. I was just about to leave my office. My colleagues were coming to my seat and were saying “Take Care” and “Safe Journey” as I was going for “Shahi Snan” (Royal Bath) at Kumbh mela next morning. Their worried eyes scared me little but I was not perturbed enough to change my plan. Their concern was genuine as around 40 pilgrims died at Allahabad railway station just two days back in one of the major Royal Bath. I reached my home after an exhausting day but the upbeat mood of my parents who had come to Delhi from Bihar for the trip, boosted my morale by many folds.

We discussed our plan for the trip and went to bed as we had to catch the train early morning.  After 9 hours of journey, we reached Allahabad junction. Allahabad junction is unique in its capacity. All platforms are separately linked. You have to change many cross sections of stairs to reach one platform from another. It might have been designed keeping in mind the massive crowd that converges at the time of Kumbh. We thought it would be difficult to get a room in hotel but our fear was baseless. There was no dearth of hotels though the charges of rooms were increased without showing any mercy to pilgrims. We managed to get a room in a hotel at reasonable price.  After having relaxed in hotel for few hours, we went for a stroll to see the cacophony of Allahabad. Due to kumbh mela, market was buzzing with activities related to the mela. Crowd was everywhere from small tea shop to restaurants, from horse driven cart to auto rickshaws. We went to a small samosa shop as there was a queue to get samosas. We thought it must be selling good quality samosa, looking at the size of crowd. And fortunately it did not disappoint us. The price was half as compared to samosa selling in Delhi and the quality was superb.

After tea and samosa, my father had his favourite ‘ maghi’ ( type of betel leaves)  paan. Then we roamed there for few more hours, enquired about routes and medium of transportation to Kumbh Mela. After having dinner in our hotel room, discussion started as who would be the first person to wake up in the morning. Father and I were on one side and ma was chosen to be the first one. After initial hesitation, she agreed finally as waking early was her daily routine. Ma woke up around 4 a.m. She tried her best to wake us but finally we woke up around 5 am. After we got ready for the’ D’ day we were waiting for, we came out of hotel. What we saw was hordes and hordes of people going in one direction even so early in the morning.  “We are late” said my father. We joined the crowd. We took a cycle rickshaw and reached to the spot where vehicles of ‘common man’ were not allowed to go further.  Different streams of crowd comprising different sections of people were converging into a single stream.  Fathers were carrying their young broods. Elderly women had tied up their shawls so that they did not get away from each other. Young people were holding hands of their mothers, grandmothers. But there was high level of energy everywhere. Everyone was moving fast to be the first to reach there and wanted to be the first to take a dip in the river. We were also moving with fervor and were trying to match the crowd in its pace. Then we reached a long bridge. What we saw below the bridge was a layer of fog and thousands of colored tent houses encircled with layers of mist. Bhajans and sermons of spiritual gurus were emanating from loud speakers mounted over long bamboos.  After walking for almost 7 km, we entered into the mela premise. We took break in a small makeshift tea shop. Till papa and I were having tea, ma was bargaining with a shopkeeper over the price of white plastic container used to fill water. Finally she won the battle and handed over the container to me to fill water of Ganga. It is a tradition in sanatan dharma to take back water of Ganga to one’s house to purify anything in universe you can imagine. The water of Ganga is also used in Pujas performed in houses. We moved around 500 meters further to see a naga akhara, a camp of Naga Sadhus. Lives of Sadhus, saints always ignite curiosity in my heart. I moved inside the akhara but was little scared as nagas are known for their mercurial behavior. But what I saw was ultimate divine experience. There was a saint sitting on the ground holding his hands towards a person whose body had turned blue, hair locks were let loose and was wearing not a single string of cloth. Yes, he was the naga sadhu, the cynosure of Kumbh Mela. He had just come after having the earliest dip in sangam. My hands folded and head bowed automatically to see the replica of lord Shiva. I greeted him and said ‘pranam baba’. His eyes almost crimson red, opened and I shuddered. But then he raised his hand and gave his blessing. Blessed I was. I narrated this incident to my ma who reached later to that akhara. She said,” Why did you not take his photo?” “I could not dare”, I said. That was nothing but the truth.

We moved ahead. There were some people who were returning after the bath and some were coming for the bath but the rush of human flow was continuous.  There were some male devotees who were getting their head shaved; some women too were also getting their hair locks trimmed. It is also a tradition to donate your hair to river Ganga. The government had tried its best to provide basic amenities to pilgrims coming for the holy dip. Electricity and water supply was provided to every nook and corner. Makeshift bridges and roads were made. Policemen on horses were guarding the area. But there was still area of improvement especially in the field of sanitation. When we reached the bank of river, it was full. There was no space even to keep our feet. Then we hired a boat to reach the Sangam, confluence of river Ganga and Yamuna. Boatman was charging more than five times what he normally charges. Pilgrims had no choice but to give up to their demand in the absence of any regularized fares. We reached Sangam.  Boatman tied his boat to the permanent wooden pillars bored into the water. To our utter surprises, level of water was too low. It was hardly touching my knees. The water of Ganga and Yamuna could be easily demarcated by the color of dark Yamuna. Unfazed by level and color of water, we took as many dips as we could have at Sangam as such event occurred once in 12 years. After the shahi snan, we came back to the bank.

We were relieved after the bath. We felt as if all our sins were washed away from our heads.  On the bank, it is tradition to hold the tail of colt and donate some rice, money. It is believed that after death this colt would take across the mythical flooded river ‘Vaitarni’.  After the bath, we had some snacks at street vendor’s stall. My parents were tired and wanted to take rest. We entered into a sadhu camp. We were greeted with warm smile and taken into a tent made of sacks and bundles of hay were laid on ground in the tent. We made ourselves comfortable. Tea and fried peas were offered to us. We had a nap for an hour. Then we went for bhandara (lunch) made in camp only. I saw sadhus rolling dough, frying puri, cooking curry and also serving food to each and every one who had come to camp. I also got opportunity to server food and I was ecstatic to do that. After the sumptuous lunch, we got opportunity to meet mahant (main sadhu) of the camp. Glow on his face adorned by an innocent smile, he asked us about our experience in kumbh. As always, I was ready with my questions related to life of sadhu and social life. He answered them with utmost maturity. Or better say he sprinkled droplets of knowledge from his vast reservoir.  As the mahant ji had to attend other devotees also, we paid obeisance and retired from the camp. With all these new experiences, we came out of mela premise. Suddenly it started raining. With much difficulty, we got a horse cart. It was for the first time, I was sitting on a horse cart. It was a very stable mode of transportation. I really loved to sit on that. Finally we reached our hotel. We were happy to visit Kumbh and relieved too as we were safe. I pray to go there again after 12 years.

Windows of Dream

आँखें बंद करता हूँ की कोई ख्वाब आए

आँखें बंद करता हूँ की कोई ख्वाब आए ।
ख्वाब ऐसे की मीठी नींद ही आ जाए ।।
कुछ उमरते घुमरते ख्वाब आते भी हैं ।
सपनो की खिड़कियाँ  खुलने को बेताब भी हैं ।।

खिड़कियाँ  की चिटकिन्याँ खुलते खुलते अटक जाती हैं ।
कौन सी डायन है जो अंकुरित सपनो को निगल जाती हैं ।।
कल्पना के 'पर' अभी लगे तो थे,सपनो की लो टिमटिमाइ तो थी ।
ये कौन सा तिमिर है जो रोशन हुए घरोंदो पर छा जाती है ।।

आँखें बंद करता हूँ की कोई ख्वाब आए

मुस्कान की एक लकीर अभी खिंची थी चेहरे पर ।
खुशियों के कुछ ऒस गिरे थे आँखों पर ।।
सुनहरे आस की मखमली चादर अभी ओढ़ी थी हमने ।
की जिम्मेदारियों की आंधी ने जगा दिया नींद से हमे ।।

आँखें बंद करता हूँ की कोई ख्वाब आए !!
कृत्य - कुनाल

Awakening Sons of Bharat

शंखनाद 

सफेद चोले में  छिपाते हो कुक्र्मो कि कालिख
 ईमान  बेचने  कि याद न होगी तुम्हे तारिख ।
 शहिदो के लहू का अच्छा सिला दिया भरत पुत्रो ने
 मा के दुध को तौल  दिया काले नोटो ने !!
  सत्ता के शेष्नागो ने ऐसा उठाया विषैला लहर
 अपनों  ने अपनों पे बर्पा दि लाठियो का कहर  !
 कूल्वधू बन कर आयि वो नारि जिस  देश में
 वहि कूल्हन्ता निकलि है होलिका के वेश में ।।
  आप इन्सानो कि बात करते  है
 हमने पुतलो को भी ताज पहनाया है ।
 वोटो कि सिढि पर चलना सिखाया हमने
 वहि रोन्द रहा है हमे सरे बजार में  !!

 अब तो दुध के दान्त टूट गये भारत के लालो के
  बहुत सहायि उडेल दि कोरे  कागजो पे !
  इतिहास दोह्र्राने का समय है,नीव डालने  का
  छू लो चरन सुभाष, भगत का,लगा लो नारा 'जय भारत' का !!
  आज सोया इक्बाल जागे, बुझे दिन्कर कि लौ उठे
 हर सीने कि धर्र्कन बढे, सिन्ह्भुम कि गर्ज्जन उठे !
  नागिन का सर कुच्ल्ने परशुराम का परशु उठे
  कुछ करो आज ऐसा कि 'मा भारती' का सर उठे!!
कृत कुणाल -

आखिर कब तक

आखिर कब तक

कहाँ से शुरुआत करूँ जब तुमने अंतिम विदाई ही ले ली ।
जहाँ आसूं टपके थे वो जगह अंगारो ने ले ली ।।
सड़क पर अस्मिता उतारी हवस के अन्धो ने ।
भड़की जनता तो लाठी बरसाई कानूनी गुंडों ने ।।

तीर बितिर है मनस , नज़रें मिलाओं तुमसे कैसे ।
बांधी राखी थी पर उसका कर्ज उतारों कैसे ।।
झुका है सर शर्म से , पैरों मे कम्पन भी है ।
जिलत का ठीकरा फोरों कहाँ , कुछ कमी तो हम में भी है ।।

तिल तिल कर मरने की आदत सीखी हमने ।
दो पैरों पर रेंगने की कसम खा रखी हमने ।।
जहाँ नोटों के लिए वोटो की नीलामी होती है ।
और नारी की इज्ज़त हर मंच पर उछाली जाती है ।।

सिने में धधकते लावों को आज न रोको तुम ।
प्रचंड बलिवेदी पर कुछ नर मुंडो को चढ़ने दो तुम ।।
तिमिर के इस सांझ को अंगारों से रोशन करें ।
नारी का सम्मान करें और नयी सुबह का आगाज़ करें ।।

कृत्य - कुनाल

A Language which a Deaf can hear and a Mute can speak

A Language which a Deaf can hear and a Mute can speak

It was Saturday late morning of early October. I had finished reading many pages of The New York Times along with my routine breakfast of bread, butter, jam and strong tea. I took some loaves of bread in my hand and moved towards the small artificial pond in the backyard of my house. Seeing me approaching the pond, ducks and fishes started competing with each other to be the first to reach me. I was their regular evening visitor on weekdays and morning feeder on weekends. Fishes find it little difficult to grab bread crumbs than their amphibious competitor, ducks.  While I was breaking the bread loaves and tossing it to them, I saw two pairs of curious cute eyes at my back watching these excited creatures. I looked at them and gave them a spontaneous smile with a ‘Hello’. No reply came. They kept on looking at them. Then they started clapping, shooing and chasing ducks with a small, thin stick.

I asked them not to do that. They did not understand at first. Then they looked at my eyes and stopped. I gave them few loaves. They also started feeding, playing and laughing. I was speaking English and the two kids, a boy and a girl, were speaking their native language, probably Japanese or Pilipino which I did not understand at all. I could only guess what they were saying by looking at their facial features and expressions. We kept on playing and laughing with ducks and fishes without knowing each other languages, even duck’s language. So after around half an hour their mother called them and we dispersed. We never met after that.

 I have some acute bad hobbits. One of the prominent one is going for daily evening stroll unfazed by weather outside. The intention of this stroll has never been to reduce weight but to come out of house and get some natural air. Winter had started descending on this part of globe and leaves of the trees had started turning colors, a clear indication of change in weather. I was wearing half sleeve jacket and slippers. The chill in air had forced me to erect my shoulders to my ears and to squeeze my fists inside pockets of the jacket. I was lost in my thoughts and was strolling very slowly on the pavement. Then I sighted an elderly woman of small stature of south Indian origin coming from my opposite side. She was walking at a good pace. I could easily guess her motive of walk was either to maintain her weight or to reduce it. She saw me and gave an affectionate smile. If you find your countrymen or women outside your country, either you look down to ignore them or give them a familiar lovely smile. An evening or two passed like that. On third day I said ‘Namaste’ to her and she said something in her native language probably Telugu. I could not understand. She understood my ignorance of the language and said in broken English ‘Walking  ...good. Good’. I completed her sentence and said ‘yes... Yes’. So every evening I would meet her on pavement and she would use few words of English like ‘family, working, food, happy, home etc’ with words of Telugu to complete her sentence.  In the similar fashion I used to answer her in few English words like, ‘alone, not taken, yes, no etc ‘. So one fine evening, she said, “Vinyak Chaturthi, come home”. I understood. She was inviting me to her home on the occasion of Vinayak or Ganesh Chaturthi. I gently said, “O.K”. Pictures of typical Indian festive dishes started flashing in front of my eyes and my mouth started watering instantly. Actually after a long spell of time, I was going to have Indian dishes made by an Indian woman. I knew her address. I reached there on time.

Her husband opened the door and shook my hand very strongly but warmly. He was serving in Indiana state dept. and had good command over English. Only he and his wife were living there. Their kids were settled in other parts of U.S. They were living in U.S for more than 15 years. I was little surprised that she had survived good enough time with so little English. Then the lady came along with dishes and thus came the pleasant aroma of ghee. My long wait was over and I just lost control over the food. She was serving the same way as my mother used to serve, always trying to pour more food on the plate. I was eating voraciously oblivious of the fact that I had visited their place for the first time. After the heavy lunch, I departed with big thanks on my lips, my heart and my stomach.

I was transferred to Florida after few days. The above incidents revealed one very interesting thing. We had no common language to communicate but the message of love and affection was passed without any language. These incidents happened in U.S but I also remember one incident in India which had the same message. During fourth and last year of B.Tech from Vellore, I was staying as day scholar (away from college campus) along with my friend. There was a problem of drinking water as the timing of municipality water was early morning and early evening. Both the time either we were sleeping or in the college. So we used to take drinking water from the other tenant, Tamil speaking family in the same building. The housewife did not know English at all and we knew only ‘Tani’ in Tamil, meaning water. Often she gave us Sāmbhar, Dosa or sometimes Mysore Paak, popular sweet of south India. We were there for six months and enjoyed an excellent rapport with them. On the last day of our stay in Vellore, I went to say final good bye to them. The aunt became very emotional. With droplets of tear in her eyes, she said something in Tamil. I could not understand. She said it again. Then her ten year old son came and said, “Amma was asking to come back “. These words touched my heart deeply.

There is one language which has no grammar, no words and no syntax. The vocal cord of this language goes deep down the heart and it speaks through eyes. This is the language of humanity. Pundits say mother tongue is the first language we learn from our mother. But I feel before the mother tongue, we learn the language of humanity through the affectionate eyes and the caring hands of our mother. It becomes easy to break the ice and enter into the conversation if you know someone’s language. But if you feel the pain or happiness of someone, your hearts start communicating. Linguistic conflicts will always be there but the language of humanity has the power to surpass any conflict. Glitter in your eyes and a lovely smile on your lips can bridge any gap of caste, creed or country. Languages may come or may become extinct but the language of humanity will survive as long as human race exists.

A language which a deaf can hear and a mute can speak.