HOLDING MY FATHER’S FINGERS

 

 

My father would sometimes take me out with him , when I was growing up . Perhaps in earlier times this was  a common practice . However these are ‘digital times’ where emotions have been kept in backburner.  What was the reason  for him to do so ? Maybe to show the world outside or just an outing , I cannot say . But, I remember my father in many ways and one such is when I accompanied him holding his fingers!

My earliest memory is when he took me to  Lansdowne on vacation  from Allahabad.  I had spent my childhood  in Lansdowne . It was a happy childhood with my brother and the large family . My Grandfather edited a newspaper from there and his mother ( my great grand mother) was alive and active then . We brothers received  so much of love from her and from our grandfather , uncles and aunts, neighbours, our memories are full of joyful days of that period. We have plenty of photos in our album of those times in ‘Subedar Mohalla’  which gives happiness still. Therefore my visit called back those times  and I could relate to that place- The Church which housed a school where I studied , the park which was my favourite place , the bazaar and chocolate burfi of Kanhaiyalal   . Since then we brothers go regularly to Lansdowne to look at our rented house opposite the park  in the small and calm cantonment town.

My father had plenty of tales to tell about Jim Corbett and his hunting expeditions . These formed part of the bedtime stories and he would relate the story with much action and the roar of the tiger etc . I took from him and would tell the stories to my children in a similar manner.   In the sixties he manged a van and took us to Corbett National Park and the sight of an elephant herd chasing our dark grey van still excites me . Later,  I would read books by Corbett and found him to be a wonderful writer – ‘The Man eating leopard of Rudraprayag’  is among his best works. Corbett National Park has remained my favourite sojourn and retreat much to the reluctance  of my wife and children ,  who insist on exploring new sanctuaries.  Though I have not yet sighted a tiger , but  I prevail that where in India you would find such tall trees , thick forest , a river flowing and the largest number of Tigers!

Allahabad was a city of Intellectuals , writers, leaders and Lawyers. It also boasts of some of the finest bungalows of the colonial era . Civil lines area with broad parallel roads and sprawling residences was created by the British after the ‘First war of Independence’ of   1857   by  perishing five villages. My first experience of visiting one such bungalow was with my father who took me to the residence of one Mr Tiwari , senior Advocate near Thornhill Road. A well kept lawn and garden with wide variety of plants and flowers and two German Shephard dogs ! This was in the late sixties and the multi-storey ingress  was lurking in the corner! I could experience some satisfaction  when I stayed  in a bungalow in Katari Bagh , Wellington island Kochi during my Navy days!

My father would every year order a box ( peti )  of apples from Chobatia near Ranikhet , Kumaon which the family looked forward and relished . He would also distribute some to his friends and associates and I would often accompany him . The happiness on his face as he handed over the fruits mentioning with pride about quality of the fruits from the hills makes me smile still. Fruit culture is prevalent in hills and often we would take fruits with us to gift to friends instead of sweets .   

Train journeys in older times were enjoyable ; getting down at remote stations and looking for vendors for tea and local snacks. Some stations are famous still for their unique items such as ‘Sandile ke laddu’ and ‘Shankargarh ka Peda’.  The reading culture was much prevalent and before boarding the train one would buy the latest magazines and newspapers from the country wide present ‘Wheelers book shop’ . These were exchanged with the fellow passengers and on occasions some interesting discussion would also take place .   I recollect one such journey when I purchased among other publications the latest copy of the ‘Blitz’ weekly newspaper edited by the legendary editor Rusi Karanjia who was among  the earliest to carry out  ‘ investigative stories’. The last page of the paper was always written by the famous writer and film maker Khwaja Ahmad Abbas. My father would read many newspapers and he had told me that he improved his English by reading the English dailies aloud . I too would do the same  and during vacations would read to my grandfather who was surrounded by newspapers, magazines and periodicals. That edition of ‘ Blitz’ carried the cover story from ‘cover to cover’ , was a special edition on Independence Day . It carried in detail various ideas to make our country ‘Great’ and consisted of numerous micro and macro suggestions. My father first quickly read the paper and then I read the same  and we agreed that it was a good article and I clarified some aspects from  father . As was the practice we kept the copy for many days to be shared with  other family members and friends .  Father possessed   a small library from his student days and books with titles-‘Light Of Asia by Edvin Arnold ’, ‘ Inqilab by K A Abbas’ ‘ Glimpses of World History ‘ by Nehru are retained in me. We brothers too maintain our libraries !

  Once I accompanied my father to ‘Institute of Gandhian Thought and Peace ‘ near Allahabad University . There was some discussion and Z A Ahmad the famous leftist leader and Rajya Sabha member was also expected .  I was among the youngest in the meeting and among others was Mr Mulla the famous senior advocate of Allahabad High Court and Zia Ul Haq the local communist party leader . Though Dr Z A Ahmad did not arrive but there was a lively discussion and repartee and Mr Mulla was highly critical of the new policy of the Government  regarding ‘Adult education’ he said that how does one expect a poor Rickshaw Walla to attend classes after a hard days work!  Participating in discussions was much sober in those times ! When I joined university along with my friends we joined the weekly club ‘Elysium’ headed by the genial Dutta Sahab the Editor of Northern India Patrika for many years .His nephew Ranjit Dutta was my friend .  The meetings were held in ‘Barnetts Hotel’ in civil lines run by the Dutta family   and we were served tea.  Many eminent personalities would visit   our meetings and talk to us among them were the famous Justice Markandeya Katju who was a Lawyer at that time and was very popular among students .

 There are some people whom we cherish life long and one such person was Dr V S Narvane Professor of Philosophy at the Allahabad University and later visiting professor in US universities . He had taught my father and formed a lifelong association with him and our family. My father took me to him and I was immensely impressed by his thinking , knowledge and the beautiful house adjacent to circuit house which he built . His study consisted of wide variety of books and I would borrow them sometimes . He wrote in simple lucid style reminding me of the style of Hemingway and Nehru. He wrote books on philosophy , culture and Literature . Once he lectured us in the ‘Elysium’ on ‘Indian and Western Art’ and there was an overwhelming  response in the manner and fluidity of his narration from all of us .

Holding my father’s fingers unwittingly I imbibed so much that I could face the world confidently. Sadly he left us so suddenly and early depriving me of my duty  to hold his hand  in old age!  

STUDENT POLITICS

 

The recent elections in Jawaharlal University Delhi were in news.  How Left and Right ideologies clashed and the election were contested intensely as ever. I was immediately reminded of my days in the University of Allahabad in the late seventies where I had an engrossing peripheral view of the ‘student Politics’ of those days and was a hesitant  participant too! 

We were exposed to an organised parliamentary procedure in our school St Joseph’s College Allahabad by our revered and visionary Headmaster Father Rego in order to make us better citizens and leaders of tomorrow. There was Prime Minister and ministers, his cabinet  and parliamentary debates ; all nominated . Once there was some rowdiness in ‘Parliament’ and the Parliament was dissolved and ‘President’s Rule ‘ was imposed . Students were appointed as ‘secretaries’ and functioned under the ‘President’. I too was appointed ‘Canteen Secretary’ . My job was to keep a keen eye on the items sold and to watch that prohibited items such as ‘chewing gum ‘ were not sold. Once I confiscated  the many brands and packets  of chewing gum /bubble gum and deposited in the school office.  

I heard of  the closely fought election of CAV college Allahabad and how Nisar won the election and emerged as local leader. Therefore ‘student politics’ was permitted in some intermediate colleges too ! Not then but now when I mull over it I consider it was perhaps not appropriate for colleges to allow such serious  politics ,influenced and financed by the local politicians and political parties.  Much time was being wasted on politics at the cost of curriculum and the local politicians were creating their support base and a constituency.

University for me was truly an eye opener . Specially my Allahabad university with its domes and historical structures and history . It was established in 1887.  Having worked in a university and seen the campus of numerous famous  universities in India I can say with pride that few come close to Allahabad university in infra structure and legacy   – Arts and science faculties , Senate hall , Vijaynagram hall,  JK Institute, Libraries , hostels , open spaces  etc. These historical marvels were activated and energised by dedicated and  eminent Professors , Scholars and Administrators. Dr Amr Nath Jha was head of English Department and then Vice Chancellor for three terms in the forties  . He was perhaps the youngest VC at that time . Harvansh Rai Bachhan , Prof Dastur, Prof Deb , Arvind Krishna Mehrotra, Raghupati Sahai Firaq, Ram Kumar Verma , Prof J K Mehta , Dharamvir Bharti , Dr Murli Manohar Joshi , Megh Nath Saha and many more have imparted education in the University  .Their very presence , thoughts and ideology have enriched the legacy of this great university.

The list of political leaders at the National level who studied in this university is quite impressive -   Motilal Nehru, Madan Mohan Malviya , Acharya Narendra dev, Dr Shankar Dayal Sharma,  Govind Ballabh Pant, Chandra Shekhar, Visvanath Pratap Singh, Gulzari Lal Nanda,  H N Bahuguna ,  N D Tiwari , Arjun Singh and many more. Perhaps this achievement is a motivator for the aspiring students to try their luck! However; no parent send their children to this illustrious university to become a politician as most become politician when other options fail! One student Rakesh Diwedi would contest for the President’s election year after year and never succeeded . However out of sympathy he was elected  President when he was in his late thirties.

 I joined the university because my father had studied there. He was a student  leader of AISF ( All India Student Federation) as during his time socialism was a preferred ideology  and the October Revolution of 1917  in Russia was an inspiration. But during my father’s time in the late forties and early fifties the elections and politics in the university never affected the studies and examinations were held in time. But when I joined the university the political leaders of all colours prevailed the campus . Dressed in their traditional kurta -pyjama they would be surrounded by their admirers and move around meeting and greeting students and listening to their problems such as admission in a certain department, hostel requirement, issue of library books, fee submission etc.  A parallel system existed. I was a science student and had cleared my intermediate science with difficulty and so had opted for Arts subjects in graduation . I found Economics, Modern History and English Literature very interesting and so never missed any classes.  

 Soon the election programme was announced and the university was in the grip of its fever . It appeared that a license to bunk classes , to address classes by candidates was accorded. Pamphlets and processions pervaded the university campus. Slogans in support of candidates adorned the walls of the departments and libraries . It was a bizarre and unesthetic spectacle. An atmosphere of festivity and celebration existed during that period . The most interesting was joining any procession which was visiting the Sarojini Naidu women hostel otherwise a restricted place ,    to address the girls there who also enjoyed the attention which was accorded to their constituency . Invariably a huge procession would enter the women hostel and singing and dancing would  accompany the sloganeering but when the procession came out of the hostel the strength would deplete by half !

We students from the English medium schools had a sizeable numbers and were wooed by all candidates and  were refereed as ‘Hi Bye Londe’ ( Hi   Bye boys) . During the election seasons all leaders and candidates talked to us politely . University politics was a launching pad for state and National politics for many ambitious leaders and some did make the cut. It was believed that certain high profile politicians and ministers closely monitored the elections and financially supported the potential winners.

 I was supporting the left supported candidate for the post  of the Secretary of the ‘Students’ Union ’ . I remember that the vice -President of JNU Students’ Union visited during the elections and spoke to students in English in the various classes in support of our candidate. In the fray were not only students with long term political ambitions but few studious students would also join to test their popularity and aimed to make a difference in the existing murkiness.

My friend Deepak Dhawan who was among the toppers of Law first year filed his nomination for the post of ‘Publishing Secretary’ . We were sure that his credentials would get him to the post . It made the opposing members tense too and there was request and polite threat to withdraw but he did not relent.  His chubby face , simple appeal and baby fat was quite endearing and the girls called him -Glaxo Baby. Though he did not win the elections he fetched about 1200 votes against the winning candidate who got about 2000 votes but he made an impact which was the purpose .  

 The election of the President was keenly contested and I favoured   Anugrah Narayan Singh a candidate supported by the left. What I remember was that on the last date of the campaign a ‘Mashal Jaloos’  ( Torch March ) was organised which was very impressive . At dusk when the lights faded the students set out in one fine with their flaming torches with the posters and banners . It was indeed a captivating sight . He won the elections handsomely .

During the elections various attractive slogans were invented . However the dominant slogan was ‘ Tempo High hai ! ‘ prefixed by the name of the candidate – ‘Deepak ki Tempoi high hai’ ( the wave is in favour of Deepak) . We were advised by other supporters that during discussions the sure win of our candidate should be emphasised whether he was winning or not .

 Looking back I consider that interference of politicians should be curtailed and only issues of the university should be point of discussion and debate . I lost one year on account of anti-reservation strike of 1978-79 as our final exams were delayed by one year . It was an unofficial zero year

But I still look back with fondness   at  those years of learning  and happiness.

SUMMER MEMORIES OF ALLAHABAD

 

 

  Summer is the season when nature manifests its anger , with some sweet relief in shape  of melons, cucumber and mangoes . Though some retreat to vacations to colder latitudes but the large majority have to slug the heat to make the ends meet.    

The summer is in full bloom, the monsoons are awaited , the temperatures are being monitored. The birds search for water in streets and doorsteps of concrete structures! The dogs gasp with elongated tongues, the world moves on!

 Summer brings many memories .  In Vishakhapatnam I would read regularly the fatality count on account of ‘Heat stroke’ , most who died were poor labourers working on roadside without shade and  who did not have the freedom to stay secure at home. Now I am in Goa and here too the summer heat and humidity is sapping .

  However , many memories of the summers spent in the heat waves of Allahabad come rushing; though all seasons visit Allahabad, but the city is famous for its summer ! My Mother returning  home by rickshaw after her examination duties,  would insist that an urn full of water be given to  the ‘Rickshawala’ and she would ensure that a piece of 'gur' ( jaggery) is also given as it was her belief that in hot weather when one was sweating one should not drink cold water empty stomach .Water serving points( piau) were available at street corners as it was the custom of the city.

   The summer began soon after Holi and ended close to Diwali, May to August were hottest period. At that time Air conditioners  were non-existent in middle class homes , later we could afford water coolers ;but not in all rooms . In summers we would lie on the floor and the solitary USHA fan was our source of survival; the fan is still serviceable! The heat in Allahabad was a challenge, we were always cautioned to guard against the dreaded 'loo' ( the heat wave peculiar to summer seasons in eastern UP) and covered our head with a soft towel when venturing out, the agony was aggravated by the fact that the movement was slow , either on cycle or on rickshaw; scooter came later which was a relief.  Sometimes I  would see a solitary person on the road between High Court and Circuit House on a cycle with his head covered fighting the heat wave and opposing hot wind and trying to make way, his movement ahead would be very slow and from a distance it would appear the  cycle was stationary on the road. During the afternoons the only shops open would be of 'Paan/bidi/cigarette'!.

  My Father also suffered in summers along with other lawyers as there was no change in the dress regulation, he was tied down by the black coat and what accompanies Lawyers' uniform  and was sweating all the time , there were white sweat marks perennially under the arms of his coat.  Maybe the court rooms were air conditioned/air cooled or  'khus-khus' was put but the travel to ‘High Court’ was full of hot air and slowness of ‘Rickshaw’ made it even more treacherous  . Most Government offices had coolers for the officers and ‘Khas- Khas’ mats for the staff, casual staff was recruited during the period to water the vertical ‘Khas-Khas’ mats fixed to the doors and the windows which cooled the air and the very smell /aroma of Khus -Khus was refreshing (I miss those days).

   Reading occupied much of our time during vacations; Nandan, Parag ( children's magazines) when children and  weekly/ fortnightly magazines such as Samtahik Hindustan, Dharmyug, Illustrated weekly,  when grown up. We graduated to reading Premchand and James Hadley Chase soon. ‘Panna’( a drink made of raw mangoes, fresh mint and sugar/jaggery) was available at home and ‘Kissan's ‘ orange and lemon squash and ‘Rasna’ were also there, Coke was a luxury. Water was cooled in a big 'Ghara' ( a big earthen  container ) which was filled in the morning, it was supplemented by a few 'surahis'  ( a slim earthen container- Pitcher ).  Water purifiers  and filters were non existent. ‘Surahi’ was carried during journeys on train and often purchased at the station and whilst disembarking either handed over to a fellow passenger or broken by throwing out of the train. It was  a common belief and experience that the water of ‘Surahi’ was the sweetest ( or was it the water of Jamuna in Allahabad which was sweet?).

In the evenings when the sun had set but the warmness persisted we would look out for the Ice - cream  vendor of the famous local ‘Rita ice-cream’ . During that era each town and city had its local brand of ice-cream and the big brands monopoly had not set in.  

     Sometimes we friends would go to swim at the  enclosed ‘coral club’ swimming pool. Cucumber the thick and thin variety were relished after application of liberal salt and red chilly , the ‘Kharbujas’ ( melon)of Allahabad are to be found nowhere else , green in colour from inside and yellow-green pattern outside , always sweet, we made juice out of it when ‘mixies’ arrived. Mangoes would be suckled passionately; at least 5 to 6 in one go; the small desi variety . Allahabad is blessed with huge tamarind trees which not only provide shade but sweet and sour fruit which was strewn on the road struck by wind  or bird or children throwing stones to pluck the ripe and raw fruit . On certain occasions we were treated to the famous ‘thandai’( a beverage made of milk and dry fruits).

  Clothes most preferred were half pants /Tshirts and the universal white lose kurta-pyjamas. The vegetables grew despite the heat and ‘lauki, tinda parbal’ were available in good numbers and variety  . These were grown in ‘kachar’(  sandy region close to river). My mother would invariably shop for the vegetables and fruits on her return from college from the road adjacent to Government Press and behind the AG Office, where fresh vegetables and fruits of the season were available. At night, the fruits and vegetables from the ‘kachar’ were carried on camels’ back to the mandi for sale the early next day. It was a picturesque sight to see the camels in one line slowly moving toward   towards their  destination as the cycles and rickshaw plied alongside. Most camels were loaded with ‘water melons’ on both sides .  

  Many years have passed since I left the historic city but I remember it for many reasons and one is its distinct summer- the fragrance  of the 'heated earth' is deeply etched in my heart and mind.

WORDS AND VIEWS

 

 

   In    1982  one of the finest English Judges  Lord Denning ( Alfred  Thompson  Denning  ) submitted his resignation  as ' Master   of the Rolls'  ; the third senior most Judge in England. He was in that chair for twenty years and could have continued till his Death. He was Judge for  38 years and many Lawyers consider him  as the Greatest Judge of the century. Many of his verdicts  resulted in changes in the 'British Common Law'.  What prompted his resignation were his remarks in a book in which he seems to have suggested that " some members of the Black community were unsuitable to serve as Juries ,  and that immigrant groups may have had different moral standards to native English". The views made the Black Lawyers complaint to the Lord Chancellor and he was also criticized in the Press. A distinguished career thus ended in an unnecessary blemish. His  remarks also put a question mark to his years of learning and writing work!

   In December 2014  Peter Hollingworth, a senior Immigration Judge in England had to tender his resignation after he allegedly made racist comments against an Indian origin woman with surname  Patel. she had filed a case of harassment and was not present in the Court . When the Judge asked for her the prosecutor informed that she was not in Court. To this the Judge stated " She can't be doing anything important… with name like Patel she can only be working in a corner shop…" When she learnt of  his comments she complaint of the matter to the  Senior  Judge.

There was no legal binding on the Judges to tender resignation , but they resigned to uphold the ‘values of the society’ and for the long term good of their Nation. It is famously said the ‘ Laws do not make people virtuous’ !  Just one moment of casualness , one remark made their entire career questionable! It is a common saying that ‘Choti choti baton se badi badi  baton ka pata chalta hai’  ( small talks make big revelations! )

  In March this year the Finance Minister of Uttarakhand Premchand Agarwal had to resign as minister following his insensitive remarks in the assembly in February. During a debate he had stated  that the Uttarakhand state was not created only for the ‘Pahadis’ ( hill people)  . The speaker intervened and stated that such divisive remarks should not be made and that all the people of Uttarakhand were one . However  there was an outrage in public and he was also reprimanded by his party and finally was left with no option but to tender his resignation. Thus his ‘words and views’ led to his political fall.

Each word creates an image and we respond to that image . Poetic and creative words register soothing and reassuring images and we return to those images and artists frequently but violent and aggressive words are provoking and create  oppressive images . Sometimes societies fall victim to such images and thus conflict and antagonism arises.

The power of ‘Words’ is  much established! Words do not vanish ; they resound, rebound and return . Sometimes with fondness sometimes with regret ! ‘Words and Views’ have life beyond the moment . The famous Hollywood actor Al Pachino states that ‘words can make you fly’ and that  ‘word made flesh’. In his memoir titled ‘Sonny Boy’ he writes “ But when I read from the book of Psalms in a big, booming voice –‘ He that walketh uprightly , and worketh righteously , and speaketh the  truth  in his heart’ – I could feel how powerful the words were . Because the words can make you fly . They can come to life. Like my friend Charlie used to say , the word made flesh , to borrow another biblical phrase . That’s what  I thought acting was , just saying beautiful words and trying to entertain people with them”    

The power of the ‘Word’ is stated in Hindu Vedantic philosophy which states that ‘Shabda Brahman’  meaning that the world is word . In the book titled ‘Om Gayatri and Sandhya’ published by Ram Krishna Math ,  Swami Mukhyananda writes “ Now the ‘a’ ‘u’ ‘m’ , known as Matras ( phonetic constituents) of Om , are symbolic not only of the beginning ,middle, and end of all the words , and of the entities and concepts represented by them , but of all the worlds ( Lokas) as well for purpose of meditation . They represent the three planes of Bhuh, Bhuvah, and Svah and the corresponding microcosmic states . …….Hence  Om is also characterised as Sabda -Brahman( Sound Brahman or Brahman in the form of Sound or the word  )  “  

    To hear good , and to see good is emphasised in   ‘Vedic Swasti Vachan’ ( chanting for well being and prosperity) :

‘Om Bhadram Karnnebhih Shrnnuyaama Devaah |

Bhadram Pashyema-Akssabhir-Yajatraah |

Sthirair-Anggais-Tussttuvaamsas-Tanuubhih |

Vyashema Deva-Hitam Yad-Aayuh |’

 

( O Devas, May we Hear with our Ears what is Auspicious,

 O (Devas who are) Worthy of Worship, May we See with our Eyes what is Auspicious,

 With (Sense) Organs Steady and Body Praying (due to Hearing and Seeing the Auspicious) ...

 ... May we Attain  the Lifespan allotted by the Devas (thus finding fulfilment in our lives).

 

  Freedom of Speech is the Corner stone of a Democracy but it is  not unbridled  as it has responsibility and Accountability linked to it . Accountability to the people. The Judges resigned because they were aware of the ethos of their Nation and perhaps could understand the grave lapse which the 'People' would not tolerate. However many public figures in responsible positions  utter irresponsible and insensitive statements   they know that the people may tolerate them or perhaps they know that our people are too engrossed to meet their economic sustenance and may therefore ignore  such  aberrations. But our Democracy will remain flawed till such time our  Citizens in the higher positions  are not mature and refined  in their

‘ Words and Views’.

 

 

WEAVED ENDLESSLY - MAN AND THE SEA

 

                

He stands there.

As the waves  rise , roar and die.

The solitary nerve in his heart comes alive;

He breathes fresh again , accomplishes fulfilment,

With  contentment, Aroused  from the acknowledgement.

 

In agony and ecstasy ,

It was by his side ;

Conforming to his smiles and tears

Joys and fears.

Ever observing the expansion and contraction of his,

wrinkle-less  and wrinkled face.

Weaved endlessly – Man and the Sea.   

 

The sea valued him , cut him to size , cursed him , loved him too. Never was indifferent. It saw his father and his children. The introvert land loving father and his emancipated ,extrovert children . Children of joy and fun – modern mariners of intellect and enterprise . With the zeal like Jesuits they broached to seek beyond the horizon . It became theatre for flexing of muscles for Philips, Nelsons and Napoleons. The pedagogues brought it to the classrooms and demagogues flourished on in it more. On its waves rode religion and politics , Christ and faith , cotton, silver , Gold and slaves.

 

Mankind  dreaded this ever restless  blue mass of liquid called  the sea, which became a stage for projection of power and glory. However, each morning and evening people of various age , colour, views and station,  come close to it to add a look to many a look, for new features to appear . The old and senior  cherish it as a record of their no longer potency , and the young would seek a new identification . It is a shrine for lovers and for lovers no more. For one explores its serenity and calmness far from the organic pollution , settled on a well behaved stoic rock with sea as an interpreter communicating in silence. For those in forlorn state it provides a shoulder to lean on to   in its anger, sombreness, rumbling and grumbling which meets their hearts. The breaking and tossing of shingles and pebbles reflecting their inner chaos . They take solace in understanding that there is one who understands them. The connoisseurs of literature , Art and aesthetics delight themselves by tapping the dusk and the dawn . Concentrating on pink against the horizon , musing in its making and breaking of form.

 It demonstrated all shades of mood which the humanity possesses . The intensity of feelings which the society has imbibed through the ages. The fear of the new moon night . The child like joy  , innocence , freshness and purity. The virgin quality of its glass like stillness. The  scream of a hysterical woman in it cyclonic waves. The naughty youth like presence of the white horses. Its chameleonic  and coquettish behaviour; every thing.

 

The sea contains immense wealth  and is recorded in Indian ancient Puranic stories . ‘Samudra Manthan’ was executed by the ‘Devs and Asurs’  to explore the untapped reserve of the ocean. It was a collective effort of churning the Sea! It implies that the entire Nation has to work together to seek wealth. The churning produced numerous precious objects and  divine beings - such as ‘Kaustubha-precious jewel’, ‘Airawat elephant’, ‘Ucchoshrava horse’ , ‘ Dhanwantri the Vaidya’ , ‘ Kamdhenu Cow’ , ‘Varuni- Goddess of wine ’,   ‘Lakshmi -Godess of wealth’, ‘ Halahal - poison’ , ‘ Apsaras- Rambha and Menaka’ . ‘ Kalpavriksha’ -Divine tree’, ‘ Panchjanya- Divine Conch’   etc and finally ‘Amrit’ was discovered which created a feud between ‘Devs and Asurs’ which persists till date ! The contesting claims and conflicts and quest for fair distribution of wealth among and within Nations . There are numerous symbols and motifs embedded in this story related in ‘Vishnu Purana’ . The residence of Lord Vishnu is in ‘Kshire Sagar – Ocean of Milk’  with his wife Goddess Lakshmi  and is lying on the ‘Shesh Nag- the serpant’. And,  indeed the wealth of the Nations and the World is located in coastal cities by the sea be it Mumbai in India or Shanghai in China or New York in US. It is believed that once our earth was embedded in sea and has emerged from there. Lord Shiva has kept the poison churned out from the sea , safe in his neck . The ‘Nuclear Button’ is safe and secure with him and he controls it- ‘God of Destruction’!  We ascertain that  Divine beings , Humans, Animals, Plants and Material wealth was  the result of churning  representing the entire creation!

 

Though Space is the new frontier of exploration the Sea remains primary arena of control by powerful Nations. India protects its interests in The Indian Ocean , Arabian Sea and Bay of Bengal and the entire coast line which skirts  the Seas. China is asserting its presence in Indian Ocean waters by strengthening its Nuclear submarines numbers .  The United States has no intention to dilute its presence world over through seas and various Fleets.   

 

  The Sea  has been there , it will be there. Man has been here, he will be here . Both unavoidable , omnipresent . With the world hidden in its womb , Sea remains infallible , insuperable, incorrigible . It allows no one to tame it .  It beckons men of understanding , patience , tolerance , perseverance , fortitude and wisdom . Remains the symbol of man’s infinite search for Truth , of eternal flux of time that will never stop , of the final equilibrium that will never be achieved .  And ,  the endeavour which will never cease.      

THE LANGUAGE OF SILENCE

 

                    THE   LANGUAGE   OF    SILENCE

 

 

The Language of Silence is supreme ; it is superior ; it is subtle . It uplifts; it enlightens; It has no script ; just meanings ; symbols ; space . It demolishes existing perceptions!  As I am aging  I am fathoming the ‘language of silence’ and have started  gaining my consciousness of it. The Language of  the Child. The language of my Dog. It is the language of Gods! The morning sky; Sun rising, the colours of cloud , abundance of nature all around through which it speaks!

More than communicate we assimilate . The babies do it regularly . The moods of parents . The dogs do ; the moods of Master/Mistress ! But when we grow we enter the areas of coarseness and entangle ourselves  into complications of our own creations. Is it our limitation or inadequacy which  debars us from  the refined Language?

  How silence speaks louder than words! Don’t we experience it in our conversation with friends , family members , elders , officials, when the ‘gaps’  between the conversation convey more than our actual talk? When we are expecting an important call and the anticipation , the delay  communicates more than the message !

The civilized world created numerous languages and yet there are conflicts.  ‘Theatre of the Absurd’  was evolved as the writers and creative people realized the meaningless of language . They concluded that in the post world war ii  society, language was being used not to communicate , not to express , not to reveal but to hide , to conceal their thoughts . Language had become redundant and so the ‘Absurd’ theatre evolved in which the dialogues ,  the interaction , the expression was ‘absurd’ . The plays of Samuel Beckett, Edward Elbee, Harold Pinter , Eugene Ionesco  demonstrated this approach . The famous play of Beckett’ Waiting for Godot’ represents the theatre.

    I adore and crave for the ‘Silent era’ of Cinema. The Cinema of Buster Keaton and   Charlie Chaplin. Some  films of Hitchcock of the ‘Silent era’ were superior such as ‘Blackmail’ ! I lament the loss of creativity of Charlie Chaplin with the advent of the ‘Talkies’.  I hope one day we shall return back to the ‘silent era’ cinema  to discover the ‘Pure cinema’ .

Silence is the language of resistance ; Of Satyagraha , of penance , of patience , of tolerance , of renunciation , of meditation , of contemplation . Gandhi ji would observe ‘Maun Vrat’ periodically .

There is a  meditation philosophy called ‘Vipaasna’ based on the ancient Indian system wherein  one maintains a  ‘Noble silence ‘ meaning  silence of speech , body and mind during the ‘ten days’  course . This ‘silence’ instils introspection , peace from the harshness of urban life, inner discovery , self realization and much more.

Silence is the language of prayer, of frugality . It is the language of defiance and control ; Of conservation. Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose would formally retire to prolonged period of silence and prayer before his campaigns.

The language of silence is often the language of loneliness , of solitude , of isolation , of denial. Nature speaks in silence . It speaks directly , needs no translator.  Great works of literature have been created in isolation and silence !    

In this age where the beauty of the language is lost in the din of the demagogic  rhetoric . Where poetry and creative prose remans unnourished , where the voice of reason and balance is muffed . Where the language that we witness is the insensitive bureaucratic style which is the hallmark of the times that   we live in , the language adopted by the media . Any person with money and power speaks the language of authority, of order, of instructions , of sermon and caution , of impending danger and severe consequences where prime time Television engages in verbal battles eternally ,the meaning and substance and communication is lost and scepticism seeps in, creativity is jolted to such an extent  . Where politics is the dominant theme of life and Art  and literature are buried in the rubble of the human aspirations .In the loudness of the media surge we seek for sanity and purpose among conflicting and opposing and contradictory view points , violent verbal outbursts.   The solitary recourse or defense against the above situation is ‘silence’.  Silence is the language of assimilation , of rejection , of rebuff, of resistance , of rebuttal , of retreat.  In his essay titled ‘Silence’  Robert Lynd writes humorously   “ He knows that ninety-nine percent of human conversation means no more than the buzzing of a fly “

Our sages and seers would keep away from society  and pray and meditate in forests in silence for prolonged durations and  evolve philosophy of universal acceptance . Such introspection and creations was  done in silence . The  various Upanishads are a result of the solace and peace in which our sages made their profound contribution.  Robert Lynd says in the above   essay  : “ Certain religious bodies have recognized the value of silence , and mystics have told us that it is through silence rather than speech that we arrive at a knowledge of the secret of life.”

 Armistice day is observed  in Europe on 11 November by maintaining   ‘Two minutes’ silence as on this day in 1918 the World War 1 ended. I end here by quoting from  the above stated   Lynd’s essay : “ Cynics are doubtful whether any useful end is served by the ceremony of the ‘Two minutes’ silence that has now become an annual event in England and some other countries on the Armistice Day ; but having been in a London street , when all the traffic died down into perfect stillness , and every human being in sight stood motionless as a stone in a silent world , I , like a million others have felt the air of transformation . London of the bus and dray and warehouse seemed to be touched with a mystery and strangeness that meant more to the imagination than the hooting of horns and the hurry of tramping feet.”

BIMAL ROY'S ' AMRIT KUMBHA'

 

BIMAL  ROY’S  ‘AMRITA KUMBHA’

 Bimal da died relatively young at the age of 57 of  cancer leaving behind a body of work which has immortalized him – Parinita, Do Bigha Zameen, Biraj – Bahu, Sujata, Parakh, Madhumati, Devdas, Bandani are his renowned works in Hindi . His greatness could be ascertained from the fact that these films were  both , commercially and critically successful and  received many Filmfare and National awards.  

However; the subject of the article is ‘Faith’ Bimal da had in ‘Poorna Kumbh’ Mela rituals . This is revealed in a Book Chapter titled ‘Bimal da’ written by Gulzar who was his assistant at that time  . This is part of the book by name –‘The Man who spoke in pictures- Bimal Roy’ , edited by his daughter Rinki Roy Bhattacharya.

Here Gulzar narrates his days spent with Bimal da when he was working on a film script titled , ’Amrita Kumbha’, with the background of the ‘Kumbha Mela’ at Prayagraj. In 1954 during Kumbha Mela at  Prayag there occurred a stampede and thousands of people died . Inadequate administrative arrangements and crowd control were causes reported. The accident affected many families and the tragedy became part of the folklore and people mourned the demise of the near and dear by narrating the tale in a poetic form. The Bengali writer Samresh Basu wrote a book titled ‘Amrit Kumbha Khoje ‘ on the stampede and the ‘Kumbh Mela’  of 1954. Bimal da had read the book when it was serialised in Anand Bazaar Patrika and was very enthusiastic about it . The book was his prized possession , kept by his bedside. It was heavily marked with pencil in between the printed lines and on the margins. Numerous small paper notes were inserted and pinned in it . It had become bulky and seemed as if there was another book  in the  belly of the original . Bimal da had a clear vision of the screenplay and he had mastered the sequence and characterization. It is  believed that if one takes bath at the confluence of Ganga , Jamuna and Saraswati at Sangam in Prayagraj on the auspicious ‘Jog Snan’  ( derived from ‘Yog’ ) day  during ‘Poorna Kumbh’ when the early golden sunrays are touching  the water you are cured of all sins and diseases  and live for one hundred years . Gulzar had asked Bimal da if he believed in it and Bimal da replied that it was a matter of faith and written in ‘Shastras’.

The ‘Shahi Snan’ of Kumbha is called  ‘Jog Snan’ by  Bengali  devotees. The ninth day of ‘Poorna Kumbha’   brought out in the book by the writer  was being followed in the film making by Bimal da . Traditionally and in practice  the auspicious days  of ‘Poorna  Kumbha’ are -Makar Sankranti , Mauni Amavasya, Basant Panchami and  Magh Poornima, known as ‘Shahi Snan’ .

 The novel was in first person where the writer narrates the story. There is one  character of Balram who suffers from tuberculosis    and wanted to bathe at Sangam on the ninth day of ‘Poorna Kumbh’ to be  cured of his  disease ! As the people were rushing out of the train at Allahabad he gets crushed in the stampede and dies. Bimal da would repeatedly point out that the writer has killed him too early and insisted that it should die  later in the film . Gulzar argued that the writer perhaps has shown his death   in the beginning so as to indicate of the tragedy ( stampede in Mela)  in the end and to create a  balance of the narrative, but Bimal da was adamant.

 Once he was detected with cancer, which was not disclosed to him, he was confined to his home but his commitment and perseverance for this film never waned . He was to go with his team and take shots of the Annual Magh Mela in Prayagraj but since he fell ill he directed Gulzar and his team to take the shots and gave them detailed instructions . The main shooting was to take place during the ‘Poorna Kumbh’ in December 1965.  

Gulzar did visit ‘Magh Mela’ in Allahabad and took some shots , but his mind was occupied by the illness of his master. The team also knew that the film was unlikely be completed . The following conversation between Gulzar and Kamal da ( Cameraman, )  brings out the reason behind Bimal Roy’s   obsession with the film :

“One evening after returning from shooting , Kamalda asked , ‘ Why is Bimal da making this film

‘I had asked him once ,’ I answered.

‘What did he say?’

‘ I told him of a feeling that I am the writer who had gone in search of amrit which makes man live for a hundred years . Surrounded by the cigarette smoke he had coughed. His face had turned red and after he recovered his breath , he added, ‘I too have been searching for that amrit’.

‘ Confused, I had asked . ‘ Do you really wish to live for a hundred years ?’

‘Hmm.’

‘ That day , the topic ended at that point . On another occasion , ‘ he said ,  ‘  A hundred years do not literally mean that many years. It means that a man attains immortality through this amrit.’

‘What amrit is that?’

‘ Bimal da had stared far into space for a long time .’

‘ thinking back , now I feel that he knew that he had cancer .’

‘ He answered at length , ‘ Culture. I want  to become a part of the culture of this land so that …’. He wanted to say that he wanted to become immortal but he did not say it .”

The health of Bimal da continued to deteriorate and he had become frail and shrunken but he did not cease to talk about the film based on the book. One day he called Gulzar and admonished him for not working enough on the script and asked him to sit every day in the evening with him on the script . He insisted to shoot during the Kumbh of 1965 and Gulzar told him that it would commence on 31 December and the ninth day of ‘Jog Snan’ would fall on 08 January 1966. In between a new film by the title of ‘Sahara’ was shot for a few days but then the shooting had to stop as he  was unwell.

He continued to discuss the finer details of the film with Gulzar and was particularly unhappy about the timing of the death of the Balram.  Gulzar writes:

“Balram’s death kept on shifting and during the debate lasting two to three months his timing of death was discussed , it was being pushed forward by slow degrees. One day Bimal da said happily –“ I have finally discovered the right place for that scene . On the day of the Jog Snan , at the crack of dawn   as the first ray of sun falls on water ..’ he coughed excitedly . His whole body racked by the cough , but he continued , ‘ that is when the death occurs . This first death would balance the stampede in the climax . Balram would die on the day of the Jog Snan.”

  As the fatal day neared all his family members and colleagues would expect the tragic hour to arrive. However when Gulzar would meet him he would talk of the film . As it was December 1965 and the ‘Poorna Kumbh’ had commenced he told Gulzar that they would shoot after the culmination . Seeing the fast deteriorating condition of Bimal da Gulzar stopped visiting him as he could not see his suffering.

Finally the tragic day arrived and Gulzar states: “ I got the news in the morning and it was as if the sword of Domacles hanging over my head had been removed . The moment I recovered my breath , tears  poured out of my eyes . It was 8 January 1966, the day of the Jog Snan” 

As the ‘Maha Kumbh’ of 2025 culminates in  Sangam at Prayagraj , Bimal da would be smiling watching the proceedings from above ; having attained immortality !