I feel assaulted

I am not a published eminent author,so I want to be humble about my writing and be appreciative of every one.

And anyway, everyone has a right to write as they like.

But I want to ask the readers, is content more important than style?

I don't like the TV news readers who speaks Hindi with a Bihari accent. It distracts me from what he is saying.

I am able to get the sense of the short news pieces, however they are delivered. They need to appreciate that Twitter is their medium.

An analytical piece delivered badly just goes over my head.

Also, I have a problem which is more about the principle.

I believe too that people must have equal opportunity, but the arrogance of someone who refuses to learn, because it takes too long is irritating- and reminds me of the offspring of eminent people.

I see little children who have taken music lessons for three months, thrice a week, performing on stage - ostensibly to encourage them to learn.

IT PISSES ME OFF!!

The stage performance is the carrot for perfecting the art. If your child is not keen to learn, why must I listen to him croak in the name of music?

Premature babies must be incubated.

Handicapped persons must have equal opportunity, but there has to be a proportionate responsibility too. Would it be okay to have a blind person take a walk in the traffic?

I think when it is someone you love,it is difficult to be reasonable about these decisions.

And when you love yourself so much, it is difficult to have any sense of what others feel.

At this point I feel overwhelming self pity. No one loves me. I don't think I love myself too much.

People can be honest with me, and they are. It's awful to be there.

But I get this sense that I must be considerate. Because?

Yes, so you scratch my back and I scratch yours- and let quality be damned.

Unconditional love!!

Here we come, to mutilate that wonderful phrase, use it abuse it.

There is no plot here

Papa did not frighten me as a child, a very small child.

And then he stopped frightening me from when I was as high as I would get- which was about when I was a teenager.

I wish those years in between had been different.

The other day he said, "No one ever wanted to know who your father really was." He laughed as he said it, but I think he was very sad.

To me Papa has been the centre of any universe he occupied, but that maybe because my life revolves around him.

The reality is that he did have a rather fearful image which he built with great effort- it might have been easy to ask him questions in a less charged atmosphere.

I wonder why I did not feel afraid like the others.

Once his size stopped frightening me, I saw Papa like any motherless child. I had a mother and he did not. I never heard a story about the thriving relationship between the father and son before my mother's arrival in the family. I don't really remember Babbaji, Papa's father. But I have these impressions about him, which I have decided to call memory.

He came to stay with us for a while before he passed away, and it was a miracle of sorts.I was too small really. Around three years old.

I have concluded that Babbaji was worse off than Papa- as far as expression of love went.In Babbaji's days, fathers were not supposed to declare their interest in their children. To show love, women cooked, and men disciplined whoever they could.

"I love you" was reserved for films.

In the home- visible love was an embarrassment. I don't remember any baby talk around me.

"Poor Papa" was my response to his childhood, so what if everyone called him Raja.

Babbaji may have been a little overwhelmed with grandparent-hood. But I hear he liked my mother. She was respectful and caring. It must have helped to have a bridge between him and the son.

Babbaji could read stories from books, and my favourite story was the Russian tale about the cabbage that wanted to have a bath one morning. But by the time the cabbage was undressed, the sun had set.

I have often wondered what happened to the cabbage then? I mean, since it could not have the bath, did it have to put back the clothes ? Did it return for another attempt?
But anyway,I think it was a good story.

Sometimes one cannot get to the destination on time, and there was no mention of the cabbage being devastated.

Papa says he might tell me his story, and I am thinking of that cabbage. I think he has not made up his mind yet about the bath.

He is tentatively standing there, next to the water, testing the temperature and making up his mind.

I am game. I have enough material to write what I want to anyway. But I think I will tell him that it might be better to keep an eye on what I am doing, and if he helps me then he gets to have his say, plus a veto.

I did promise him I would wait till July 2010- but what the hell, I am allowed to surprise him some time, like now?

I am writing, and all he has to do is live to a happy ending.

I'm frightened now

Don't go popping off Papa- I haven't had my fill of you!! And you have promised to live in that family home with Amma for a couple of years at least.

This is a difficult time of the year, and I must make a beginning to get over the fear that grips me around this time. A fear of death. I can not make up mind who I am afraid of losing most. But I do know that I would rather be dead first than lose any more.

The urge to take matters into my own hands is so strong, I need to keep them busy till they cannot do anything wrong. Maybe I should just begin to create an infinity, an act that would keep me so occupied I would forget to be afraid. And as Papa and Amma shift into their new home there is every reason to feel hopeful.

Papa has mailed me this morning- and I should do what he says- relax. I know what will be will be. But I wish I could will some things. A spontaneous expression of love to a child is also something to be examined, analysed. And then let go of. I really see no need here.

I must stop seeking life.

Surely that will take away the fear of losing it.

Adrift

What would “I” be without the others?

As they joined me, I grew. With every departure I was reduced.

There are happy pictures, and there are the images of damage, loss. Reminders of pain, which comes back with an intensity that does not reduce with time. I could try and forget them, throw them away as it were. But the thing is that were I to remove every potential reminder of pain, I would have to be gone too.

For was I not the sharpest knife in my guts?

And I am not ready to begone. Not yet. Not until I know.

What was it that made me twist that knife so? What makes me do it periodically, even now? Some genetic trait, or my own choices? Can I stop? Or is there a pattern that I must accept as the blueprint of my life? Which was written for me, irrevocably as it were?

Although I have been more fortunate than many I know, I have done wonderful things; and yet my mind often seems to get clogged with the rotten-ness of ordinary life.

With the effort required for bare survival, I cannot say that life is easy. But there is a sense of victory in having survived the day. In going to bed safe.

Winning has been an important part of my life- almost an intrinsic one. And to win, it is important to get things right. Mistakes add to work. They are a drain on the limited resources.

But knowing right from wrong is not easy.

I consciously choose to live. Every day.

Not because life is worth it. But death is an unknown.

And what do I have to hold as mine, but the exhilaration - of the here and now. I don't trust anyone except myself to take care of me, because I am not sure I can take care of anyone.

Forgive them I suppose!!

The view under my microscope is beautiful only as long as I do not know what I have kept there.

How do I put that teaspoon of curd into my mouth now? I know it is life giving. I need it. I suppose I must. But hell! It crawls with live ugly creatures which make me want to throw up.

I know that the hair in that comb was part of my head a moment back- but I cannot accept it on my pillow any more. For that matter that poop in the commode was also in my body.

What is revulsion? A state of mind.

And what is acceptance? A matter of the heart. And yet, people advise me to not let my heart rule.

They really do not know what they say and do!!!

Women are under my microscope for now.

have I come full circle too?

प्रिय सुमति

क्षोभ अधिक है, लेकिन दुख जनित है।

बहुत दिनो तक दबा कर रखने ले लिये मजबूर किया तुमने इसीलिये तुमसे बात कम होती जाती है।

मेरी हर बात को तुमने तोड़ मरोड़ कर रख दिया है- हमारी मित्रता कितने दिन ऐसे चलेगी? तुम तो निभा ले जाओगी। लेकिन मैं किसी फूटी बॉटल पर हेमा मालिनी स्टाइल में नाचने के लिये तैयार नहीं- कम कम से कम तुम्हारे मन में बैठे imaginary गब्बर के लिये तो कतई नहीं।

किस लिये इतनी कुरबानियां दे रही हो थोड़ा सोच लो- फलाने जी ने बुरा बोला, तुमने निर्णय लिया कि कभी नहीं बात करोगी।

यार तुम्हारी ससुराल का कुत्ता भी माननीय है, पर यह सारे संसार को अपना घर इस तरह मत बनाओ. सीमा रेखा यूं न हो कि अपने घर का कूड़ा दूसरे के दरवाजे के सामने फेंक दिया और दरवाजा बन्द कर के बैठ गये।

थोड़ा विवेक तुम ही रख लो.

जो अपनी समस्याओं से थके चटे हैं वे दूसरों के लिये क्या कर सकते हैं- वही अादमी पहले पहल कितना भद्र व्यवहार करता था। मेहनती भी था। अब परेशान हो गया है- तो उसकी मदद करो। उसकी जिम्मेदारी किसे दे दी जाये यह सोचने की कोशिश करो।

कोई अागे अाकर बोझ बाँटने वाले हैं नहीं।शायद हमें भी थोड़ा हाथ झाड़ कर खड़े हो जाना चाहिये। मेरे कठोर बोलने पर गालियाँ पड़ती थीं- घर में भी और बाहर भी- इस बार तो सब ठीक चलता गया- तालियां बजी ना? तो तैयारी तो है ना? साबित तो कर दिया!!

मेरी तैयारी है, और मुझे समझने की दूसरों में भी है या उन्हें बनानी होगी।

जो मुझे मिला है जब वह चुक जायेगा तो ही नया कुछ अच्छा होगा। तब तक बीच बीच में गड़बड़ होगी ही। पूर्व जन्म के पाप तो सबके होते हैं यार- मैं बुरा बोलती हूँ तो जो सुनते हैं उनका भी तो कोई प्रारब्ध है? क्यों किसीको मेरी गाली भी मीठी लगती है, और किसीको प्रेम पाश फाँसी का फन्दा? वे भी तो अात्म विवेचन करें।

लेकिन तुम्हारा क्या करें सुमति?

तुम तो भजन में नहीं अातीं कि लोग गाते अच्छा नहीं और मुझे ठीक ढंग से बोलना नहीं अाता इसलिये चुप रहने को कहती हो।
सुमति, तुम्हारा तरीका अच्छा तो है, पर दुनिया अागे बढ़ गई। कम से कम मैं तो बढ़ ही गई- तुम्हारा ही योगदान है। अब तो कबिरा खड़ा बाजार में- जहाँ देखती हूँ बाजार ही तो है- बच्चों को वन्दे मातरम गाने के लिये चाकलेट का प्रलोभन , समन्विता क्लब में अाओ या नहीं ५०/- देने का सुझाव।

मेरा हिसाब थोड़ा अलग है, मैं तो अारती में भी गा कर सोचती हूँ कि मैने अारती के पैसे नहीं दिये तो भगवान समझता है कि मेरा भाव सेवा का है।

फिर भगवान की भी तो कोई जिम्मेदारी है मेरे प्रति कि नहीं? गलत कहती हूँ तो बोलने से रोकता क्यों नहीं?

जिसे अपनी भावना पर विश्वास नहीं, वह चुप रह सकता है- मेरे लिये यह संभव नहीं।

तुम ठीक नहीं कर रहीं - अब तुम्हें भी नहीं बक्शूंगी। :)

अकेले में तुमने मेरा साथ इतना नहीं दिया कि मैं तु्म्हारे सहारे चल सकूँ- अौर अब तुम्हें दोष नहीं देती- जितने साथ की मुझे अावश्यकता है भगवान देता है।

अति हो चली.

सही गलत तो अब सब के सामने तय होगा।

हम तो सड़क पर ही सुरक्षित हैं - कम से कम वहाँ ससुरालिया ढोंग बाजी नहीं होती और गौरा का पीहर नहीं होता- जितना कमाई करेंगे उतना खायेंगे- बाकी भीख है।

मरोगी तो तुम भी हम भी। हमें विश्वास नहीं कि इस सोसायटी में कोई हमारे लिये कुछ करेगा। देखो, तुमने फोन करके अमेरिका में वन्दना की सास की बाबत खबर की- लेकिन समन्विता क्लब में उनके लिये मौन तभी रखा गया जब महीनों बाद मैं अाई.

खुद ही सब कुछ नहीं कर सकता कोई भी। क्लब की मीटिंग तो हुई थीं , जब श्रीमती ढींगरा को श्रद्धांजली नहीं दी गई तो किसकी जिम्मेदारी थी? तुमने उसे चेताया? उसने माफी क्यों नहीं मांगी? सार्वजनिक रूप से? value education में ये जिम्मेदारी नहीं होती क्या?

अगर तुम्हारी अहिंसा से कोई समझ नहीं रहा तो कुछ तो अात्म विवेचन तुम्हें भी करना होगा। गान्धी को भी सतत प्रयत्न करना होता था- तुम तो रोटी पानी में ही लगी रहती हो। लेकिन तुम करो भी क्या। मजबूरी है तुम्हारी। मोरारी बापू को सुनने का काम बहुएं करती हों तो सास को रोटी में लगना ही होता है।

लगे रहो मुन्ना भाई कहती हो!! तुम बहुत चूक रही हो सुमति।

अाशा है कि मुझे गलत साबित करोगी।

सस्नेह

स्मिता

On republic day - from a poet after my own heart!!

REAL GLIMPSE OF AN IMAGINARY BASTAR- by Nidheesh Tyagi

Each day the naxal and the cop wake up alive next to their guns in a rainy Bastar morning find the jungles shrinking the tribal of their extinct as the state clears forests through contractors of development and greed of profiteers..

Forests will thin so much that the naxal and the cop will kill each other with Kalashnikovs and landmines

Geography teachers will lie in their classes about Bastar.
Bastar would see development.
Bastar would be main stream.

After smell of gunfire, burnt flesh, clotted blood are wiped, there would be no evident scenes of crime for witnesses.

No one will sing and dance for the naxal and the jawaan on the live Doordarshan telecast of Republic Day Celebrations, showing a real glimpse of imaginary Bastar at India Gate

Inspired by you- 1/1/2010

My dear Sairam,

I wonder if you had a chance to listen to Himanshu ji's talk on the Tehalka Platform for which I posted links on face book and on the blog.

What I understand is that something needs to be done about the situation - not only for tribals but for the poor and dispossessed people. Not only because we want to help or we feel compassion but because all the commentary we hear is showing that the violence is spilling all over the place, and we cannot afford to be thus inundated- it is not safe.

When the majority of people feel hopeless they have no idea of what they can have, then how can you talk?

eg if the tribal just wants to be left alone, and as that means leaving his land and environment alone too, we have to ensure he has a change of mind or heart in our favour.

Is education going to achieve this?

I know what my education was intended for. I expected to be schooled in an English Medium school, and do Engineering so I could get a good job, beat the boys, be equal to the men, earn money, and be independent.

What is the aspiration of the tribal?

If he wants development and success now, like the rest of the material world does, it is unlikely to come to him from education.It can only be looted.

Education cannot really come to him at speed or with the effort he is capable of putting.

I never wanted to go to school or college. My parents coaxed, cajoled, lured, and threatened me to go.

I do not know anyone who wants to do anything if they can have what they want without doing it.

Today, education is required for everyone- but it is not going to deliver aspirations for the tribal in the the way it does for my child. In a competitive world education is an essential, but it is not enough is what I observe.

I mean look at the difference within my lifetime. In my father's times, engineering was great education. In my times it was a good idea, and now it is just a basic degree.

What else can be done is the question. There have to be ways of earning money without education or with some quick education at best. Or the rich have to spend a part of their money to keep the poor sedated, entertained, busy or just very hungry.

You have said that Himanshu ji's work is inspirational and commendable. That is not very clear to me. What are you inspired to do?

Are you saying that a fast for purification is a good idea? I want to know if you have ever tried to fast for purification.

For myself, I know I hardly ever feel impure- except when I am angry. And staying hungry only makes me feel weak which takes care of the anger because that needs energy. Maybe that is why the poor do not get too angry. So maybe we should consciously starve everyone who is creating trouble. What do you say?

Now I saw Himanshu ji smiling after 5 days of fasting. He was saying yesterday that he felt fine- and I was like horrified. I thought it was because he had not eaten for 5 days and he was loosing it. But today he is lucid- he says he is not feeling hungry anymore. My conclusion is that he is really really angry, and his smile is an essential facade required in society.

I think I shall never know what hunger is. I have always had food at hand. The idea of starvation is meaningless.

But being deprived is something I can understand. And being deprived of something I love and need very much, to be happy, to be at peace is something I understand quite well.

Off hand I can think of many things which I must have, and not having them drives me violent. I think all of us can make that link and appreciate the level of difficulty, even if we have not actually had an experience.

Satyen, who is with Himanshu ji wanted to know what people who are not there can do. Well to begin with they can give up something which helps them understand deprivation. And they can at least imagine some similar bad things happening to a loved one as are happening to the tribals - what would they do if they were far away.

We can stop saying that we will and do live for our own happiness, that it is okay to be thinking only of oneself and one's physical family, because that is all we can afford.

I appreciate that we cannot always relate with everyone in the world in the same way that we relate with our family. When I hear news of Arjun's sickness I am more moved than I am on hearing about yours.Even a small think like his cold and fever makes me feel restless- though he is 26. You have to be sicker for me to take notice and call you.

But Sairam, I know I ask Arjun after your well being. Mostly I try and keep tab on what is happening to people around me- even those who are not linked to me any more. And with whom I may have no defined relationship ever in the future.

I think it is important to increase my range, because the bad things happening very far away affect my life finally.

I know people whose life is affected by terrorists, but they still insist on not thinking beyond their wife child parents, at the most siblings. If a group of people has become a threat to another group of people, I think all those who hear of it have to do something.

You are already doing it, by participating here. And those who are reading this letter are also doing something. So I am not suggesting a radical change in lifestyle, but just a daily discipline of thinking about others.

If everyone was to think of something they could do to spread the word- well that would be one sureshot good thing to do. The media may be silent or not make enough noise about the poor, but the internet is free for everyone to be a media person on.

Maybe this link can be pasted, maybe you can forward something on the issue of the tribals in Bastar. Or talk about how we are the ruling class- and we must think and talk of those we rule.

On 1/1/2010, and every day after, YOU could do one thing in pursuit of someone else's happiness- if you chose to do so.

I think the education you speak of needs to happen to people who are capable of being educated- and who better than myself- this year?

Cheers
smita