Role Reversal

What is role-reversal? As you grew up, he made you believe, ‘Give it a shot, you have it in YOU. Do Not Quit!’ Years down the line, when he grew skeptical of his flair, you could hold that candle and make him believe, ‘ Dad, you have it in YOU! Give it a shot’

Acha’s small piece in the Hindu newspaper (8^th November 2016), and my BIG happiness as this is a modest start into his unexplored prowess at writing….

Heaven on Earth, welcome to Kashmir!

Soaring high in the sky, Indian Airlines, IC 825 rips apart the dense blanket of clouds and emerges into what I believe a fairy tale land! Snow clad mountains, gushing streams of crystal clear cascades, blossoming green meadows, left a city bird like me bewildered. But seldom was I aware that it was just a sneak peak to what the world calls the paradise on earth, Kashmir.

Our plane disembarked on the soil of Kashmir and we were flown down not to any hotel or a lodge but into a hut. Hut #19 was ours for the remaining seven days. According to an ancient belief, the place where the valley endures today was once a huge lake and was home to a very detestable demon. Sage Kashyap drained away most of the lake and the demon was crushed to death. With the passage of time, the dried area of the lake came to be inhabited and thus from the sage Kashyap’s name this place was baptized to be called Kashmir.

My first venture was visiting Chashme-shahi, the royal spring that was laid by Shah Jahan in 1632 A.D. With water fountains and many flower beds, this place is increasingly becoming a tourist destination, but what had me captivated was the fact that allaying the fear of terror menace or a violent unrest, this place showed me a much more gratifying façade. I could hear the serene gush of waters from the spring, on one end I could perceive the sound of the holy hymns in the air recited by the children of a madrassa and on the other end I saw boys merrily playing and one of them not conscious of his trousers slipping off! There were women enjoying their chats as much as men engaged in their business talks. Far off I also witnessed men and women settling down for their dinner after their evening namaaz, with folded legs they seated themselves on ground. After taking god’s name, “bismillah” they started taking their dinner with utmost respect.

Out of the many tourist attraction places in Kashmir we have the Shankaracharya Temple, the oldest shrine in Kashmir dedicated to lord Shiva. It was constructed by Raja Gopadatya in 371 B.C. and is a prominent religious place for Hindus. Apart from giving a panoramic view of the famous Dal Lake it is of great archaeological importance too. Together with this is a prominent place of worship for the Muslims, the The Hazrathalbal Shrine, which is situated on the left bank of the famous Dal Lake in Srinagar. Its reverence is anchored in the love and respect for Prophet Mohammad, who’s Moi-e-Muqqadas, (the sacred hair) is preserved here. Thus sad to note that with the presence of such sanctified religious places and its rooted beliefs, peace is still a mirage in Kashmir.

Before heading towards our next destination, let me confess that I am not much an admirer of botanical gardens but this place had already stepped in, in shattering my myths about this city. The Shalimar Garden built by Emperor Jahangir for his beloved wife, Nurjahan, or The Nishat Garden that Queen Nur Jahan's brother, Asif Khan, laid in 1633 A.D. situated on the banks of the Dal Lake in the backdrop of the Zabarwan hills had me spell bound. Hands down, I believe that Kashmir is called the valley of flowers because flowers just sprout out of the earth like weeds do. We did study during our school days that rose is a shrub but my eyes popped out when I saw this shrub as tall as 6 feet, and roses in a plethora of beautiful colors. In our cities, I know the pain we take in nurturing that one flower pot in our balcony, and get excited when we witness at least a lone flower blooming out. The soil of Kashmir is so blessed that we witness sheets of flowers everywhere. Also, with places like Pari Mahal, the famous Dal Lake, Jama Masjid the unadorned beauty of this city refuses to cease. (But the space for this article is nearing a finish, thus my inability to incorporate these sites.).

Kashmir has something to offer to all, if you are into adventure sports, skiing, sledging, hang gliding at Gulmarg beckons you and if you enjoy shopping, you shall be treated with Kashmiri handmade carpets and Pashmina shawls that are famous world over and also wall hangings with naqqashi work. But nothing beats the divine feeling of stepping out of your accommodation early in the morning, sit for a rendezvous with the valley, with the backdrop of Takht-e-Suleiman mountains and a slight dip in the temperature, sip through the Kashmiri tea, Qahwah.  It is a warming tea with cinnamon, cardamom, saffron, crushed almonds, walnuts and is served with sugar or honey along with Kashmiri roses adding great aroma, and let me tell you greater warmth lies in sharing it with someone special too!  

What makes a place beautiful apart from its’ valley, mountains, cascades or monuments are its inhabitants. The natives of Kashmir are untouched by the feigned glitz of our sophisticated metropolitans. They are believers of hard work, vouch for a simple living and hospitality is what defines them. The saddest part is that this picture is changing, changing for the worse. With mass unemployed youth, political instability, un-kept promises, misuse of rights bestowed, trampling of the innocent by the ones under unaccountable power, is ripping apart this dale into shreds. Yes! Kashmir is burning but its beauty still stays unrivaled, so much so that even words fall short in defining its exquisiteness. The great Mughal Emepror, Jahangir rightly espoused about Kashmir, “Agar Firdaus Ba-Ru-I-Zamin Ast, Hamin Ast -U-Hamin Ast.” (If there is heaven on earth, it is here, it is here.)

So, are your travelling bags out and your next destination decided?

Jai! Jai! Jaisalmer

‘Kesariyaa balam, aao ni, padhaaro mahare des….’ with this song resonating in the air, dli-jsm express pulled a halt in the golden city of Jaisalmer. Our second destination is a total contrast to the cool snow capped valley of Kashmir, as we stepped into the heart of the Thar Desert. While we drove down to ‘the circuit house’ my father regaled me about Jaisalmer that the length of its’ international boarder is 471 km, it is the largest district in the state of Rajasthan and third largest in the country but ironically it’s scarcely populated, and on our drive down we witnessed vast expanse of land that lay dry and barren. If Jaipur is called the pink city, Jaisalmer is rightly called the golden city as every building; every myriad structure is made of sandstone. Sand and sand everywhere, so is there anything worth a visual treat?

After breakfast we all were geared to stride and discover this city of sandstone. Our guide Sumer Singh Sodda, introduced us to the majestic Fort of Jaislamer. Apart from its architecture, the outstanding observation is that it’s the only living fort, i.e. people still dwell in it. From houses,   Raj Mahal, Jain temple, Laxminath temple, shops, restaurants, tourists and the narrow lanes in the fort are jammed with cows too! Along side the many havelis built by wealthy merchants with intricate and fine work done on it’s sandstone walls, a thing that caught my attention  was a painting of lord ganesha on the wall of a house, with a graffiti reading, ‘Shikha weds Rahul’. On seeing the question mark on my face our guide answered, people here don’t print and send out wedding invitations but it is in this manner that near and dear are invited for the wedding. Nodding at this new known candour, my eyes fell on the ring dazzling on Mr. Sodda’s finger, and on raising my brow with mischief, he coyly answered that he was engaged. His aunt and uncle chose the bride and he hasn’t seen her yet, and if he dares to set a glance on her before marriage, he will be discarded as ‘characterless’ and the engagement will be called off. Oops! My best wishes with Mr. Sodda and this also made me peek into the culture of Jaisalmer. The society strongly abides by the rules of caste and creed. The men in this part of the country are known for their colorful pagdis. And the less known fact is that each community is defined by the pagdi they wear. The Bishnoi community wears white, Raika community Red bright turban, Langa Kalbeliya in checked color etc. and, mind you, the well jagged moustache they flaunt is their pride and a matter of colossal dignity. Women are seen in their colorful traditional attire with purdah system still prevalent and in not such a good news for feminists, it is a patriarchal society!

6 Km off the Jaisalmer city on Ramgarh Road is a worth viewing destination, the ‘Bada Bagh’. Apart from the govardhan stambh and a dam, another interesting testament of the princely rule is the cenotaph. These were constructed by the various Bhatti rulers. On the death of a king as a testimonial to his life, a cenotaph has been erected for each ruler, such that he lives on even after his death. Aah! Now you wish to be part of royalty?

Sam Sand Dunes, 42 away km from Jaisalmer, is the most popular excursion to see the total sandy bush-less desert. And how can we end our voyage without a tryst with the Thar? Unlike other places, to reach the Thar you cannot hurtle in a technologically driven vehicle but have to mount the traditional one, ship of the dessert, the Camel. For a flash of a second I forgot the desserts as I was glued to the excitement and joy engulfing my parents whilst they enjoyed their camel ride! The camel is undeniably a majestic creature. The most striking feature about it is the way it walks with its head held high, and believe me, our fashion models can learn a lesson or two perceiving the camel’s move. 

The desserts are mysterious and on a moonlit night, with folk music playing distantly, the Thar for sure is not dry, barren or just sand but can undoubtedly be symbolized as a metaphor for beauty!

With the kathputlis or kalbeliyas dancing to the melodies of morchang, algoza, or ektara, the folklores have magnificent tales to tell about the valiant kings and kingdoms. 

As they say in Rome do as the Romans do, similarly in Jaisalmer rather than hunting down for pizzas or shahi paneer, we treated our appetite with the Jaisalmeri cuisine of kher sangri, lal maans and dal baati. Though there are many restaurants catering the needs of tourists by taking special care in savoring the amount of oil, ghee or even spice. Many of them are located such, that apart from restaurant’s food treating our taste buds they also delight us in a visual treat of the fort’s panoramic view alongside with live Rajasthani folk music on most evenings.

And now comes the time to wind up as 3 days at Jaisalmer just whiffed past, but this golden city has for sure left memories etched in our minds. So, with the New Years’ eve around the corner have I prodded you to a worthwhile destination? Do try and bid adieu to discotheques or dance parties and embrace the New Year in the serenity of the Thar. So now as our train shuttles to leave the sandy tracks of Jaisalmer, I pen off saying, ‘Khama ghani!’

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Our Sunshine - Akshara :)

Every time I call you, a toothless smile and twinkly eyes greet me with joy.

The only way you sleep is wrapped in my arms and close to my heart

Tiny fingers patting my face and cooing at 4 in the morning is indeed a good morning!

Our heart warms up when you show that we are your favorite toys to play, jump, drool and cuddle upon.

Mamma and Paapa do not miss the social life of friends, movies and outings as you, my little one, have so miraculously chained us to your cuteness, innocence and growing mischiefs. 

We are under your spell of love, our highness! Enslaved to you and to everything you do…..

D Sahib's Retirement

30th November, Delhi:

“D sahib is an honest officer”, “He has been more than helpful and at times of adversity, he puts the most calm façade”. From peons, drivers to the top brass of the cabinet section, words of appreciation showered.

On 30^th November 2013, D sahib retired as the Deputy Secretary from the Cabinet Secretariat.  An insider informs, “For previous baabu’s retirement party we see a maximum of 30-40 people. But for D sahib, the numbers ran into 200, Madamji”. Yes, it stands true that at the time of retirement you receive nothing short of accolades and appreciation. But, how often does your boss’s throat choke talking about you? How often do your junior staff’s eyes well thanking you? And how often at a pooja are you called ahead, thanked and prayed for a great retired life (from work). When words pour from heart it reaches the heart.

D sahib helped one and all within the limits of his powers. People mocked at his foolishness when he never used his position for any personal aggrandisement. The same people today stand and respect their D sahib on his retirement day.  D sahib’s principles thrived and his respect mounted with effort of one lady – Mrs. D sahib (madamji). Mrs. D is his backbone, the pillar from which he draws his strength and the sprinters block that pushed him forge his principles.

As my parents step out of another retirement party smiling with humility and simplicity, dad’s golden words echo in my mind – ‘There are no short cuts to success and hardwork always pays’. I thank god for blessing me with D sahib and madamji, whom I very proudly call my dad and mom.

So now what next after all that nostalgia? There’s no minute to waste, because it’s time to get ready for the second innings, where Mr  & Mrs. D sahib have to take the Grand task of spending a Grand time with their Grandchild! 

The Memorial Day Parade

19th Street and Constitution Avenue, Washington DC: 

Security in place, police cars well stationed, staff on alert? Let the Drums roll… Harley Davidson’s gurgled down softly with US Flag fluttering atop. Men in uniform take the lead, followed by a cavalry of well-groomed (huge) stallions. Our excitement was pulled to another level when the school scouts’ band in all its radiant colors and bright smiles intoned Taylor Swift’s song (amongst others) and performed with pom poms and flags, well… we couldn’t help but swayed to its beats too! As we cheered the Native Americans performing and the colonial march past, military hummers roared down the street and the child in us, roared with it too! (Oopssy! Hummers were mean to baby Aryan’s ears though). And just as we lifted the brakes of the strollers, the royal Lincoln wheeled down with war veterans. While everyone in the crowd cheered, we four squirmed through the crowd went up on the street and accorded our salutes! Really ??? But super fun! We blended in the colors of this Memorial Day parade and made it a Memorable Day! Thank you Ranju, Smithi, Sanju etta, jumping jack and chakkari ....

Amartya Sen’s in the house!

 

It’s the time of the year when the head quarters of the World Bank Group (WBG) and the International Monetary Fund (IMF) brace themselves to host the Annual Spring meetings. Within the labyrinth of tight security, as the international delegation scuttled from one meeting to the other, what caught my attention was an announcement on the advertisement board that read, ‘Debating Development and Globalization’. The guest speakers were Eric Maskin, Ory Okolloh and Amartya Sen. Did I cipher that correct? Yes indeed it is Amartya Sen. So as I froze, my mind raced back to the first time I heard his name in 1998, the first Indian (of Independent India) who won the Nobel Prize in Economic Sciences.  Then it was in high school, where I was introduced to him through a chapter on Social Choice theory, and I sat with a triumphant smile, as I could well understand what a Nobel laureate’s theory in Economics espoused. During my years of studying masters in political science I met him again in the ‘Argumentative Indian’ and the analytical writer in him impressed me. The way his collection of essays knit the traditions of India’s past and reached its present, together with his arguments on caste, gender and democracy makes it an excellent read.
 
So as I gathered all my senses back, I was in the auditorium waiting for the debate to commence. Ms. Okolloh walks in, followed by Mr. Maskin and as my patience reached its brim an elderly figure walked in. Dr. Amartya Sen just entered the august gathering. He looked a lot different since I last saw him receiving Bharat Ratna or even his interview on news channels. Nevertheless, I was way too excited to be seated in a gathering of economists and could not curtail my excitement that am just about to hear Amartya Sen speak.

 
The discussion was led by Kaushik Basu, the Chief Economist of the World Bank, who in himself is a recipient of Padma Bhushan. So the discussion burgeoned on the promises and perils of globalization. The panel debated effectively on social development, the lack of informal sector’s inclusion to the country’s GDP etc.  Dr. Sen optimistically stood by and affirmed the importance of social welfare that is being shortchanged in the worlds’ fastest growing economies.
 
So as I heard Dr. Sen with all attention, I do see age corroding him physically but his scholastic mind is unscathed, so much so that in a busy office hour time the small auditorium was brimming with ardent crowd thus, if Dr. Amartya Sen’s in the house, no matter when, a houseful of earnest ears will pop up to hear him philosophize the bridge between socialism and economics.

 

Remembering my Sanskrit teacher’s widely used phrase that falls apt for Dr. Sen:

 

राजः तु पूज्यते स्वदेशे  I 

परः विद्वांसः सर्वत्र पूज्यते  I I