Delhi
Dhund mein lipti Dilli(Delhi Wrapped in a mist)
Hatheli Garmati Dilli
Are you listening Mr. Kejriwal?
A drama is currently being played out at the North Block. The Chief Minister of Delhi-no less, is sitting on a “dharna”-protest. To begin with, he had wanted some policemen suspended for dereliction of duty, without any enquiry. The list of demands includes as of now suspension of the same policemen and Delhi Police to report to The Delhi Government immediately. There are others.
We are 4 days away from our 64th Republic Day. Security in the Capital-always a Herculean task for the agencies-has assumed the proportions of a mammoth nightmare.
Yet-they battle the cold and the rain to provide security to a CM who seems to behaving more like a recalcitrant 4 year old and less like the educated 45 year he is.
The jury is divided. Some are slamming him. Some are supporting saying that desperate times call for desperate measures. They say this is perhaps the only way to change things.
Change. Watching the drama play out- I contemplate change. A typhoon in its wake also leaves devastated change as does a flood or a war. Then again a flowing river wroughts gentle change as it smoothens the rocks in its path as does reviving rain, bringing to life the parched earth.
The choice of what kind of change we seek or want to bring about lies within us.
Mr. Kejriwal-are you listening?
You have been selected as the agent of change. Your poll promises and insidious campaigns seemed to offer just that. Magical means to rid the country of its evils. The masses need a hero to fight their cause and you became just that for them. However, in these times of instant gratification, the change sought for was expected instantly.
Magically. A wand to swish the bad away. A potion for strength to fight it. But hey-The tree the wand came from took time to grow and become wand worthy. That any potion worth its salt takes time to brew and gain strength. That magic is only in Harry Potter’s books and EVEN he took –with all the advantages of speed in fiction-7 books and as many years to defeat Voldemort! That magic is also an illusion.
Fine Fine. All poll campaigns are like that. Conceded. Post that however, would it not have made sense for you to take over the reins and take some “settling time”? Ostensibly you do have 5 years. Surely a month of acclimatisation and orientation would have helped? You see, however corrupt the previous government may have been (as repeatedly stated by you)-there is sure to have been SOME governance happening. Paperwork, procedures? To initiate any change, I’m sure you needed to first know what to change there? Yes of course- the public who voted you to power wanted and sought the magic wand. As the leader of your party it would not have been difficult for you to buy time diplomatically while you settled in. And everyone in a new job needs to find their feet.
You are not a seasoned politician and the importance of statecraft is not to be laughed at in governance. Yes-your inexperience may be your biggest strength, given the cause of corruption you have chosen to fight. But a measure of diplomacy IS needed. The rot of decades, will not get swept in one wield of the broom. It will take brooms of many varieties, some scrubbing and perhaps a while lot of pest control before some measure of change occurs. Why not give some patience a chance and work towards that? The river flowing gently?
All you seem to be doing is resorting to jingoism and knee jerk reactions. If you do have a game plan to govern this city, only small coterie is probably privy to that information. A coterie strongly in need of etiquette classes by the way. Is there a method to your madness? Or is madness the only method? Why else would you resort to holding the Home Ministry to ransom, in a highly sensitive security zone, with the biggest national event of the country around the corner?
Are you perhaps encouraging lawlessness with your proclamation of being an anarchist and your actions? The crowds you assemble are not peaceful. You abuse the same policemen that you ask help from. A feeling of unrest prevails in the city. You mock the Republic Day even. Astounding. THIS is definitely not the change you were voted in for. There is a time and place for action, and this is NOT it. You are compromising the security of Delhi Mr. CM. Very irresponsible of you.
And who is running Delhi while you squat and then sleep at Rail Bhavan? Perhaps the previous government set it up so well that it runs by itself on oiled wheels, leaving you free to choose your “dharna”? No you say? Hmm so then? Barring then the 50 files you cleared….other business?????
Your present stunt-no other word for it-has riled people-yes-even the aam aadmi who voted for you. We are not fighting the freedom struggle here. Realistically-The people want an ideal, honest, clean world-without having to do much for it. The “hero” has to do the leg work. So if you expect the populace to get misty eyed at your “dharna” and join it in droves -think again.
There are livings to be earned, offices to be reached, education to be provided. The same aam aadmi has to also live his daily life. To expect him to be noble and sacrificing about being stuck in traffic, crowded metro stations or anywhere-specially in this cold is very unrealistic of you. Will they never be that misty eyed- sure they will. They will also make sacrifices, do a Satyagraha and join your dharna. But not in less than 30 days of your being at the helm of affairs. It took us over a 100 years to get free of the Brits- and at the time there was a singularity in the aim. EVERYONE wanted them out. The fervour was different. Today-there are vested interests, pressure groups, diversionary tactics-all employed to de-rail any activity. To counter all that, garner public support and bring change are not then a wave of the wand are they? They need to be built up with some planning, thought and yes-“rajneeti”-however noble the intention may be.
You have not invested in the people of Delhi yet Mr. CM. Mere rhetoric does not get “bhagidari” from them. Refusing a house befitting a CM does not do it. Nor does self-righteousness-which you anyway belie with your words- “I am the CM of Delhi. The Home Minister does not tell me where to sit. I tell him”. The arrogance of new found power?
A spot of hard work and planning. Implementation. A little less talking. A lot more work. That’s what it takes.
All eyes are on you today. The supporters in admiration. The detractors hoping for you to falter in style. The fence sitters with interest, no doubt making up their minds quickly now. All of them are waiting – to see how well you utilise this rare opportunity to be a harbinger of the tremendous change you promised. Only time will tell, if you will be revered for your actions or ridiculed for them.
Time, perhaps for you to get your act together?
Nirbhaya
It was a night such as this, a year ago, on the streets of Delhi that you were subjected to horrors beyond description. The bestiality made us cry out in horror. Yet, you on whom the worst of human nature was inflicted, remained strong and stoic.
I cannot say I remember you today for you never left my thoughts long enough to become a memory. You remain in our consciousness. You remain in our hearts. Your death is on our conscience.
Haunt us Nirbhaya till we get you justice. Till we achieve the change we want.
Raanjhanaa
“I am nothing special, of this I am sure. I am a common man with common thoughts and I’ve led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten, but I’ve loved another with all my heart and soul, and to me, this has always been enough..”
― Nicholas Sparks, The Notebook
Thus loved Kundan his Zoya. On the banks of the Ganga in Benaras.
As a child.
As a teenager.
As a young man……and for ever after.
“Meri akal deewani tum tak
Meri sakal jawani tum tak
Meri akal deewani tum tak
Meri sakal jawani tum tak
Meri khatam kahani tum tak
Meri khatam kahani bas tum tak”
And Zoya?
Did have a spark of interest at adolescence, which led to an “unfavourable” incident, largely orchestrated by Kundan’s blackmailing tactics (he threatened to slash his wrist is she did not say she loved him) and she was banished to her aunt to study. Eight years later, she returns, to Benaras, where he is waiting, with a new scooter, suit and flowers. But she needs her memory jogged about him.
You see he had remained where he was, waiting for her, as he had told her he would. She moved on….to Aligarh and thereafter Delhi to study. And he became for her a faded childhood memory which she did not take seriously.
So she now loves another. And yet Another loves Kundan too…his childhood friend Bindiya…but he exists only for Zoya and winning her and her family over and is assisted in all his endeavours by his friend Murari.
Reality however does sink painfully in-that this is unrequited love and he should withdraw. So he does, after helping her get approval from her father to wed her love. And he too decides to marry Bindiya on the same day.
Fate, takes a jolly good hand here…..and in a moment, lives change. It’s not easy to damp down fires which have raged for eight long years…and a discovery and Kundan’s subsequent actions lead to no weddings and a funeral.
And Regret, Revenge and Atonement.
Dhanush as Kundan is spontaneous, funny and natural.
Sonam as Zoya is pretty and has shown the most acting prowess in this outing.
Swara Bhaskar as Bindiya is natural and truly terrific in her jealous, occasionally foul mouthed friend role .Impossible to recognise Amaya here!
Mohammed Zeeshan Ayub as Murari is incredibly talented. The essence of UP.
Abhay Deol-As Zoya’s love is handsome and watchable as always.
The story is set and acted out in Benaras and some part in Delhi. What is great is that they have made Kundan a Tamil-Brahmin by origin so his look and accent (does not have a noticeable south Indian accent though) fit in. The music-AR Rahman is soothing but only “tum tak” seems memorable.
The dialogues are well written and more importantly, well executed by the cast.
What for stood out for me was that while it is the story of unrequited love, it does not judge the other person for not loving you back. It shows all the shades of human nature as they are- loving, impractical, hurt, scheming, impulsive, emotional, regretful, grieving and vengeful.
Worth one trip to the Cinemas.
Down Memory Lane..(s)
As a child, when my father was posted in Air Headquarters in the early 1980s, we used to visit family in Old Delhi very often. The route taken from Connaught Place to Roop Nagar was via the Ring Road in Delhi. To the right, on this road were the final resting places of eminent Indian leaders and to the left-the ramparts of the imposing Red Fort.
Roop Nagar consisted of a number of lanes, lined with double or triple storied houses-all with a “chhajja” or balcony over-looking the street. Kids older than me played happy “gali” cricket and the visits were never complete without a treat of succulent “jalebis” and crisp “samosas” and “kachoris”.
The fascination for Old Delhi took root then….all those years ago. Over the passage of time, we moved out of Delhi and so did our family from Old Delhi. The memories receded somewhat in the background as I got down to the business of education, learning and occupation.
By a happy chance, my first job post my hotel management was based out on Asaf Ali Road at The Hotel Broadway. An orientation trip to the hotel took me straight down memory lane….in more ways than one! The recollections got a little sharper and I renewed my acquaintance with Old Delhi….leading this time to a firm friendship.
Asaf Ali road is located just a flyover’s distance from Connaught Place and the drive takes us from Edwin Lutyen’s British Delhi to the erstwhile Mughal capital-Shahjahanabad. The contrast is drastic and fascinating. In the 1950s, Asaf Ali Road was the business district of Delhi and was apparently called the “golden mile of Delhi”, for the rich businessmen who owned high value property here and transacted their lucrative businesses. Even today, major business transactions are carried out from various offices here and it is home to the Delhi Stock Exchange.
Hotel Broadway-built in 1956 and my first work place is a quiet and homely property, which has some third generation guests from the same family as its regular patrons. Comfortable guest rooms and a restaurant with a touch of eccentricity and terrific food-Chor Bizarre make it a desirable destination.
As a young trainee, I was taken through the paces of learning the ropes of my trade, except that some of the ropes here were unusual. Namely-Chor Bizarre’s Memory Lanes. Walks through the lanes of Old Delhi with a brief lesson in history and the way of the Indian life. Endlessly fascinating for visiting foreigners. And just as enthralling for me. And thus the unlikeliest of friendships got a fresh start-Old Delhi and I.
Teeming with people with scarcely an inch to walk. The long stretch of road chock-a-block with cycle rickshaws, cars, busses, two-wheelers, handcarts and occasionally cattle….amidst honking and incessant noise. Chandni Chowk is a far sight from the clean, orderly existence of the “fauj.” Yet, this bustling place is the hub of business and one of the largest whole sale markets in the country.
Historically, Chandni Chowk dates back to the Mughal era.A part of Shahjahanabad-the Mughal Capital built by Shah Jahan. Designed by his daughter Jahan Ara, a lane each was dedicated to traders plying the same trade. This encouraged quality and competition.
Thus there is “Dariba Kalan”-the silver market- a row of silver shops with a brief and fragrant “ittar” halt as an age old “ittar” merchant has his shop here. Name a flower; he’ll give you an “ittar” for it. Proceed on your way and a burst of colour greets us-for we reach “Kinari Bazaar” selling embellishments, borders and bling of every conceivable kind- aptly called the “Marriage Market; “Ballimaran” –where oarsmen lived and “Khari Baoli”-the whole sale spice and dry-fruit market-built over a dried step-well or “baoli” of salted water.
Invariably, every other shop has a “nazar-battu” at the entrance. 7 chillies and a lemon strung together to ward off evil spirits and encourage business.
It is not only about commerce though.
One cannot talk about Chandni Chowk and not discuss food. The crisp “parathas” of “Parathe Wale Gali” , the humungous “jalebis” of “Jalebi Wala” and the crisp “aloo tikkis” from “Natraj.” Add to this the small vendor serving “matar-kulcha” from a shining brass pot strapped on his cycle. No swanky restaurant on earth can ever replicate these flavours. The “Ghantewala” mithai shop, is in fact said to be in existence from the days of Shah Jahan himself and is so named because his elephant used to refuse to budge from here till fed his favourite sweets, shaking his head and ringing the bell around his neck.
“Karims” serves some succulent kababs and curries and during Ramazan, the streets behind Jama Masjid are a beautiful sight to behold. Lit up and humming with activity, mouth watering biryanis and other delectables tempt our appetites.
But the food is one jewel in the crown. There are others.
A terrific example of religious co-existence, Chandni Chowk boasts of the majestic Jama Masjid towering over the area. The Hindu Gauri Shankar Temple and The Digambar Jain Temple follow next with Gurudwara Sis Ganj Saheb and A Baptist Church along the way and The Fatehpuri Masjid at the end. In the many by-lanes off Chandni Chowk as well, there nestle small temples and mosques, including a Jain Shwetambara Temple. There is, no doubt some inter-religious tension once in a way. However, the day to day life appears peaceful and it is quite heart-warming to see so many houses of the same god all on one street like neighbours.
As it says in my daughter’s school prayer:
“Mandir –Masjid Ya Girija Ghar,
Sabhi Prabhu Ke Dham,
Malik Sab Ka Hai,
Alag Alag Hai Naam”
Translated, it means Temple, Mosque or Church
All are home to God,
There is but one God,
We just know him by different names.
Across the road, the imposing facade of The Red Fort, the Tri-colour a-top adds to the already rich character of the place. It brings home the fact of our secularism.
I have missed as many attractions and places as I have mentioned. It is impossible to do justice to them all in one go. But as I wrote about the colour, the history, the heritage and the food, it came home to me that what attracts me most is how unpretentious the people and places are. They are straight forward, hardworking and businesslike, but invariably polite and courteous. No airs and graces yet the charm of an era gone by. A sense of inherent values and honesty. A sense of real India.
(This post has been published as “Bustling Memories” in the Dec 2012-Jan 2013 issue of “Salute to the Indian Soldier”.)
Memories of Mumbai-Yeh Hai Bombay Meri Jaan
Sometimes, the merest thing can trigger off memories- an image, a sound, the whiff of a perfume. I viewed a photograph of Mumbai….endless tall buildings, a grey snaking road and a bird soaring in the sky and there I was transported back to my favourite city.
I WAS suddenly that bird…..free, flying, soaring over a city which I love-warts and all! A city which sets me free….for it has given me so much to be grateful for. A flood of recollections came rushing…..about Mumbai or Bombay as it was then, about me. About happiness, contentment, a simple life and friends.
My earliest memories are of Bombay….since I was born there in a Naval hospital. The family roots were in Mumbai- a slew of them…..Grandparents, uncles, aunts, second cousins, spread across the length (since there is very little breadth) of the city. My father was in the Air Force, so we travelled the country on postings. Summer vacations were invariably in Bombay. Thus giving me the most enriching moments of my life.
My nani and mausi lived in Worli….in one of the oldest chawls possibly in the city. I had friends in all the 10-12 houses. A terrific view of the Naka itself , an Irani cafe across the road, a delectable bakery around the corner and that lovely sea breeze blowing all the time. A HUGE fish market close by made for entertaining visit with nani. The access to the fish was through a row of other shops selling utensils, bangles, groceries and the most amazing peach coloured “Shrikhand” flavoured “golis” which I could eat by the dozen.(still can!) Kittens with pointy ears and huge eyes skulked in corners, hungrily eyeing the glazed eyed fish heads as the benign, “nav-vari” clad ladies sold their “not very aromatic when raw” wares at the top of their voices! Colourful, thriving, throbbing with life, full of vitality, rushing at a great pace…life in Bombay for me.
The vacations were idyllic. Playing with my dolls, getting them married, swinging on the makeshift swing my nani used to rig up for me, eating, sleeping, movie outings, meals at family homes, LOTS of books to read and lots and lots of companionable conversation, a normal loving home. Simple pleasures, simple joys. Shaping my personality for the years to come.
What I also learned, though I realised it only later was the absolute melting pot of cultures I got exposed to and learnt from. Maharashtrians, Gujaratis, Sindhis, Marwaris, they all taught me a bit about themselves. The language, the food, the nuances have stayed with me through the years. I know kanda, batata, kothmir as I know aloo-pyaz, dhania! I love little vatis of dal with varan as much as I do my aloo paraths. I love sai-bhaji-A Sindhi dish bursting with greens , surprisingly healthy AND mouth wateringly delicious.
Ganpati, Govinda, Gudi Padwa were our festivals-celebrated in all their fervour by all in the community. Ganpati in fact is my favourite festival- as much for the lovable Vighnaharta Vinayak as for the community feel and tremendous sense of belonging it gives. I always wanted to celebrate Ganpati back here in Delhi too but it somehow has never happened. I do however, make it a point to visit wherever the “sthapna” has been done. I do manage till laddoos on Sankranti, the occasional dandiya –raas garba twirl during navratri and Maharashtrian sarees always! The beats of the dhol from Bombay make me want to break into that rapturous, unfettered dancing which is so Mumbaiyya! Think “Mach gaya shor sari nagri re” from “Khuddar”http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p-u4VdG064I. Think ONLY the beats and music from “Chikni Chameli”!
As I grew, the dolls went, the books increased, the outings and family remained the same. Comforting in its sameness, we had a drill-reach Mumbai….relax and then meet and visit EVERY single family and relative we had. Shopping at Dadar and Gandhi Market (beautiful sarees) and on occasion a memorable trip to Crawford Market, which has remained with me also for the delicious “faluda” I sampled at Badshah. Movies dotted our busy social schedule and other activities also were fitted in with ease-which once included a show called “Holiday on Ice “graceful ice skating and dancing.
The teenage years ended and college beckoned-in my case The Institute of Hotel Management at Veer Savarkar Marg….popularly known as Dadar Catering at Shivaji Park…:) And I discovered a totally different Mumbai…..as a young student. BEST buses to get to college-inevitably the same one every day, vada pav at the Dadar beach, hitching a ride home (students of Dadar catering were famous for hitching rides….it was against our principles to pay to go home!) Clothes from Fashion Street, browsing for book bargains on the pavements of Fountain and drinking Energee. An occasional high expense (we were students) visit to Strand book stall left me happy with my loot but thirsting for LOTS more. A place I discovered which stays my very own is an outcrop of rocks right behind the Mahalakshmi temple. Once done with the darshan, it used to be possible to just go sit there and gaze at the sea. Indescribable peace.
Weekends were for movies at Sterling and Regal, and for visiting my dada-dadi at Vile Parle. My best friend lived a short walk away, so long hours were spent in his company, discussing the meaning of life and sampling pav-bhaji at Adar-one of those typically Mumbai Udipi joints serving delicious everything-Idli, dosa, pav bhaji, uttapam, fresh juices, sev puri, dahi batata puri…..yummmmm!
The (very) occasional night out parting with friends, an odd party there and my college life was sorted. Since, at our college, we also were required to work in hotels post 5 pm to gain practical experience, a whole bunch of us were inevitably found near The Taj around midnight, finding our way home. Walking the deserted streets-safely I might add to the nearest station or bus stop. College itself was fairly hectic and military like in its schedule and expectations…I guess I took to it because I grew up in and with the Air Force.
Three years sped by….and in each of those, Mumbai was racked by violence. The riots when the Babri Masjid fell, the horrific blasts and the subsequent riots too. My Mumbai was battered and bludgeoned. It was hurt. But its spirit was intact and it came to its feet in a trice and cocked a snook at the perpetrators of those heinous activities. It said to the world-“my head is bloody but unbowed”.
The assaults on Mumbai have continued since, but till date the city bounces back…albeit that she is an old lady now.
I left Mumbai 18 odd years ago. Since the, I have gone back almost once in two years for some achingly short and some satisfyingly long holidays. It still holds its charm for me. It still liberates me.
I now live in Gurgaon-a part of the National Capital Region of New Delhi. Very often, I witness the great Mumbai-Delhi divide…..endless discussions on the merits and demerits if both. Many people around me rue the state Mumbai is in today. Overcrowded, dirty, chaotic. Full of immigrants. They crinkle their noses in disdain over the slums. They shake their heads at the slow-moving traffic. They say “I can’t live in Mumbai”. And I look at them and think…”I wish I COULD live in Mumbai. I t is home. It is happiness. It is the days of my youth.”
(Thank You Kunal Karan Kapoor for permission to use the photograph!)
(This post was published as “Indelible Bombay” by Unboxed Writers http://unboxedwriters.com on August 21, 2012)
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