"September On Jessore Road" - Allen Ginsberg

Recently when i was in B'desh..travelling towards Jessore border town of B'desh which is connected to Kolkata, i saw few buses plying Kolkata-Dhaka service and than my mind turned to this poem by Allen Ginsberg..i am reporducing it for you..identify the agony suffered by millions at hand of pakis in 1971

Millions of babies watching the skies

Bellies swollen, with big round eyes

On Jessore Road--long bamboo huts

Noplace to shit but sand channel ruts

Millions of fathers in rain

Millions of mothers in pain

Millions of brothers in woe

Millions of sisters nowhere to go

One Million aunts are dying for bread

One Million uncles lamenting the dead

Grandfather millions homeless and sad

Grandmother millions silently mad

Millions of daughters walk in the mud

Millions of children wash in the flood

A Million girls vomit & groan

Millions of families hopeless alone

Millions of souls nineteenseventyone

homeless on Jessore road under grey sun

A million are dead, the million who can

Walk toward Calcutta from East Pakistan

Taxi September along Jessore Road

Oxcart skeletons drag charcoal load

past watery fields thru rain flood ruts

Dung cakes on treetrunks, plastic-roof huts

Wet processions Families walk

Stunted boys big heads don't talk

Look bony skulls & silent round eyes

Starving black angels in human disguise

Mother squats weeping & points to her sons

Standing thin legged like elderly nuns

small bodied hands to their mouths in prayer

Five months small food since they settled there

on one floor mat with small empty pot

Father lifts up his hands at their lot

Tears come to their mother's eye

Pain makes mother Maya cry

Two children together in palmroof shade

Stare at me no word is said

Rice ration, lentils one time a week

Milk powder for warweary infants meek

No vegetable money or work for the man

Rice lasts four days eat while they can

Then children starve three days in a row

and vomit their next food unless they eat slow.

On Jessore road Mother wept at my knees

Bengali tongue cried mister Please

Identity card torn up on the floor

Husband still waits at the camp office door

Baby at play I was washing the flood

Now they won't give us any more food

The pieces are here in my celluloid purse

Innocent baby play our death curse

wo policemen surrounded by thousands of boys

Crowded waiting their daily bread joys

Carry big whistles & long bamboo sticks

to whack them in line They play hungry tricks

Breaking the line and jumping in front

Into the circle sneaks one skinny runt

Two brothers dance forward on the mud stage

Teh gaurds blow their whistles & chase them in rage

Why are these infants massed in this place

Laughing in play & pushing for space

Why do they wait here so cheerful & dread

Why this is the House where they give children bread

The man in the bread door Cries & comes out

Thousands of boys and girls Take up his shout

Is it joy? is it prayer? "No more bread today"

Thousands of Children at once scream "Hooray!"

Run home to tents where elders await

Messenger children with bread from the state

No bread more today! & and no place to squat

Painful baby, sick shit he has got.

Malnutrition skulls thousands for months

Dysentery drains bowels all at once

Nurse shows disease card Enterostrep

Suspension is wanting or else chlorostrep

Refugee camps in hospital shacks

Newborn lay naked on mother's thin laps

Monkeysized week old Rheumatic babe eye

Gastoenteritis Blood Poison thousands must die

September Jessore Road rickshaw

50,000 souls in one camp I saw

Rows of bamboo huts in the flood

Open drains, & wet families waiting for food

Border trucks flooded, food cant get past,

American Angel machine please come fast!

Where is Ambassador Bunker today?

Are his Helios machinegunning children at play?

Where are the helicopters of U.S. AID?

Smuggling dope in Bangkok's green shade.

Where is America's Air Force of Light?

Bombing North Laos all day and all night?

Where are the President's Armies of Gold?

Billionaire Navies merciful Bold?

Bringing us medicine food and relief?

Napalming North Viet Nam and causing more grief?

Where are our tears? Who weeps for the pain?

Where can these families go in the rain?

Jessore Road's children close their big eyes

Where will we sleep when Our Father dies?

Whom shall we pray to for rice and for care?

Who can bring bread to this shit flood foul'd lair?

Millions of children alone in the rain!

Millions of children weeping in pain!

Ring O ye tongues of the world for their woe

Ring out ye voices for Love we don't know

Ring out ye bells of electrical pain

Ring in the conscious of America brain

How many children are we who are lost

Whose are these daughters we see turn to ghost?

What are our souls that we have lost care?

Ring out ye musics and weep if you dare

--Cries in the mud by the thatch'd house sand drain

Sleeps in huge pipes in the wet shit-field rain

waits by the pump well, Woe to the world!

whose children still starve in their mother's arms curled.

Is this what I did to myself in the past?

What shall I do Sunil Poet I asked?

Move on and leave them without any coins?

What should I care for the love of my loins?

What should we care for our cities and cars?

What shall we buy with our Food Stamps on Mars?

How many millions sit down in New York

& sup this night's table on bone & roast pork?

How many millions of beer cans are tossed

in Oceans of Mother? How much does She cost?

Cigar gasolines and asphalt car dreams

Stinking the world and dimming star beams

--Finish the war in your breast with a sigh

Come tast the tears in your own Human eye

Pity us millions of phantoms you seeS

tarved in Samsara on planet TV

How many millions of children die more

before our Good Mothers perceive the Great Lord?

How many good fathers pay tax to rebuild

Armed forces that boast the children they've killed?

How many souls walk through Maya in pain

How many babes in illusory pain?

How many families hollow eyed lost?

How many grandmothers turning to ghost?

How many loves who never get bread?

How many Aunts with holes in their head?

How many sisters skulls on the ground?

How many grandfathers make no more sound?

How many fathers in woe

How many sons nowhere to go?

How many daughters nothing to eat?

How many uncles with swollen sick feet?

Millions of babies in pain

Millions of mothers in rain

Millions of brothers in woe

Millions of children nowhere to go

New York, November 14-16, 1971

Trip to Dells - I

Also known as the water park capital of America. Wisconsin Dells, Wisconsin is a one-stop shop for enterntainment and has a Vegas style strip where every other building has something interesting to offer. Though it was not my first trip to Dells, my last trip didn't involve visit to water park, so I guess we can count it out. Planning started with Bhushan a few years ago when we decided to make a trip to the indoor water park at the Wilderness resort; even booked tickets at fairly cheap prices during Christmas vacation, but eventually had to cancel them for one reason or another. But by now, we had had it. With the summer at its peak and kids just the right age to explore water, we decided to take a plunge. Budget as usual was an issue. Even though Aravind kept looking for deals on his shrunk internet explorer window at his office, nothing much materialized. Eventually, the day before the July 4th weekend, we finally stumbled upon the vacation rentals. We got the deals we could not refuse and finally had to agree with each other for a change. This little log cabin, lovingly named 'Little Ponderosa', was situated right on Lake Delton that meant we had private access to the lake and a dock. Also, it had 3 separate bed rooms besides living area, fully functional kitchen, and a large patio where we could sit and relax watching the still waters of the lake Delton. A few hours later, I came up sweating though when the cost started shooting up as the water park expenses etc were counted in. Last minute savings were then figured out by saving money on food, and we all decided to bring in an item or two so we didn't have to buy food outside. While Bhushan offered what he does best - the Bombay style bhelpuri and pani puri, Aravind brought his south indian specialty, idli sambhar and i chipped in north indian style with aloo-puri.

Being thursday, a working day, we were not in a position to leave early, except for Bhushan, who has been kind of a ghar jamai at his company. As usual, he planned to leave early, reach there a few hours before us, and enjoy a little romantic getaway in the jacuzzi and everything. But when I called him at 5 in the evening, he was still being yelled over by somebody over the phone, and eventually couldnt get out of his house before 6, the pressures of acquisition by another company and shaky economy finally getting on to him. I followed him a few minutes later as well. Aravind left office early as well, even though he told us he left late, washed utensils after reaching home and prepared sambhar. He eventually drove the big container all the way like he would drive a pregnant lady making sure he doesn't shake and cause any mishaps.

I was the first one to hit dells, eventually, picked the keys from the office and ignored the emphasized instructions to reach the cottage, explained by much patient attendant. As it turned out, I missed every turn 2 or 3 times finding this place, resulting in a mini tour of lake Delton and dells, which wasn't so bad after all. All the frustration melted away, though, when I finally pulled into the driveway of 'Little Ponderosa', a place completely enveloped by trees swaying lightly in the cool breeze. It was so dark in that secluded place, that it took us a while to come to senses. Bhushan, eventually followed before I could get in, in his bid to get the best bedroom, but Manisha was too fast, and while Bhushan jumped at the prospect of attached bathroom (still dreaming about his romantic getaway), we grabbed the master bed on the upper floor. Aravind, still holding on to his pregnant lady, got late, and of course, got the smallest room and had to eventually sleep on the floor, vowing to start early in the morning the next time.

I hope to post some pics soon. But more interesting pics can be seen at Aravind's blog at http://aravindbr.blogspot.com

Next -> Drinking Sharks at Sharkie’s

Travel to Bangladesh...dreams of 71! still unachieved!!

That is how monsoons are working on this delta whilst we face a shortfall and this country receives excess of it.

So you are welcome to one of poorest countries of world where as per locals nobody sleeps hungury..Hard to believe!!

The DHAKESHWARI temple gives the name to city of DHAKA although hindu legacy is ignored but its part and parcel of daily life.

Skyline is not bad!!!

Is it a sea? ..its mighty GANGES known as PADMA in Bangladesh, its south of country where i travelled as well near Jessore.

The GOLF CLUB there are many a places and waterholes of mighty and rich, the class division is very- very obvious.

Road side FISH VENDOR..Bengali will die if does not have fish and rice almost daily.

That is my Bangladesh link..for your eyes only

And it's a century

Girish may not have thought of this, but his grand novel will hold a special place in Licence Era's Golden history. His writing piece marks the 100th entry on our blog.

When I setup the blog exactly 10 months ago, it was primarily inspired by Dinu's well versed travelogue. Also, it was an attempt to setup a meeting place for bunch of us. At the same time, somewhere inside I had thought of this as an ideal outlet for my own writing ambitions, as well, that I had been struggling with for many years.

But, in spite of it all, I had never expected it to pickup. Rather, I had thought that this blog would die its natural death, as well, eventually, like my friend, Aravind's blog that started with a grand entry. Then the next entry happened after six months that said, "Hello all. It's good to be back after a gap of six months! Hope to post some good articles.". It sounded more like an inscription on a tomb that indeed it was.... LOL.

But, Licence Era prevailed, and it prevailed well !!

Excerpts from New novel of my colleague- Girish Aivalli

GIRISh is writing a spoof cum satire on today's corporate life, the novel OFFICIAL SECRETS is day to day happening in a corporate with characters who seem to jump out of real life, humour is very nice, so here it is first unveiling of yet to be published with due permission from Girish :-
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When I entered the office the next day, I saw Anna at the coffee vending machine looking around for a cup. He was already holding a cup in his hand, and I wondered why was he searching for another cup.
Hey – looking for a cup ?
Startled, he turned around to face me and said, “Arrey, koi cup nai [nahin ] mil ra hai [hain]”
Are you looking for a cup for me ?
Before Anna could answer, I saw Riddhima coming over.
Hey Girish
Hi. What’s happening ?
Am all well. Yes Veda, you said that you wanted to discuss something.
So, that’s why Anna was looking for another cup. I thought that let me help Anna a bit this time. So, I said, “ Hey Riddhima, don’t know if Anna has shared this with you, but he has an amazing collection of James Bond movies.”
Anna was more surprised on hearing this. Perhaps he had never watched any movie in his life. Even if he did, quite possible that he would be having a mega collection of Chiranjeevi and Mammoty movies, with titles like – “Engga, Eppo ?” or “Rowdy Ranganna” or “Ippidi Meer Aen Sangaktla…”
Riddhima said, “Really ? Wow. That’s cool.”
Anna took the hint. “So you like Bond films ?”
“Love ? I simply adore them. So, who is your favourite Bond ?”
“James Bond”, said Anna.
Clearly, a fool with a tool is still a fool. I visualized how James Bond must be in Anna’s world. Perhaps a Chiranjeevi or a Mamooty as James Bond. Or perhaps Anna himself as James Bond. And the dialogue would have been, “Naanu Bond. James Bond. Eppiddu ?”
I again came forward to Anna’s rescue by laughing out aloud.
“Nice joke man..”
Now, Anna was surprised trying to figure out what was the joke.
I turned to Riddhima and said, “He was telling me that he likes Connery. But you like Brosnan – right ?”
“Oh man. Brosnan is all man. He has that natural cavalier attitude and raw sexuality that just oozes out.”
RIdhimma was having on-the-spot multiple orgasms over Brosnan. And now Anna had Brosnan for competition. But Anna was smart.
“Even I like Brosnan. He is amazing. Just the way he carries himself is amazing. What personality.”
So, you also like him.
Yes, he’s one of my favourite heroes.
Leaving Anna with his muse, I started for my cabin. I could see BJ moving her cute lil ass in front of me. I had this huge instinct to give her one tight spank from behind. Remembering a line from my school prayers – ‘Oh God, Give me the strength to resist all temptations’ – I marched on.

I saw Charlie wandering around my cabin. I ushered in His Highness Charlie, The High Priest of Mega Corporate Confusions, into my cabin.

Sir –I had a small query.
I looked at Charlie with a smile. Clearly, something was coming up.
Sir – How serious or detailed in the Performance Review Process [PRP] in Carewell ?
As serious and detailed it should be Charlie. When is yours ?
Anna has scheduled it for next week.
Oh. Then have you prepared for it or not ?
In bits and pieces Sir. But, I am sure that Anna will be looking forward to puncture my process.

That is actually true for all bosses and all PRPs. On top of that, poor Charlie would have had to endure Anna’s accent, his funny snorkeling laugh, his ability to casusally pick his nose while looking at you with all seriousness, his ability to produce vague sounds from his throat while keeping his mouth closed and appearing totally unfazed while doing so – all this while in the midst of a serious review process would have been really hard on Charlie.

Usually in all PRPs while the employees make a list of their ‘achievements’ – essentially mundane things which they anyways would have done in the normal course of living, but since they are now subject to excel sheets which contains terminologies like ‘Key result Areas’ and is further divided into ‘Key Financial Deliverables’, ‘Key Operational Deliverables; and ;Key Strategic Deliverables’ and further explained by way of ‘Key Tasks’ [ ya, ya….we all know it – it’s the HR that’s made it this way…relax ], they are left with no option but to make a song and dance about it and tom-tom it in front of every TDH [ Tom, Dick and Harry ] whom they meet. So, a KRA of ‘Achieving Higher Sales Volume’ will be broken into a Key Strategic Deliverable of ‘Expanding Market Presence’ and a Key Operational Deliverable of ‘Increasing the distribors’, and a ‘Key Task’ of the following > Analysing the various market segments on the basis of population, taste, socio-economic factors etc, finding the best prodyct-marjet fit, analyzing various distribution scenarious, planning various overage options, arriving at best-fit reach mechanism….and so on and so forth. The good thing about this process is that it actually makes you feel like you have achieved a lot and you then have the tool to tell your boss that how difficult it was for you to actually accomplish what you did.

However, bosses have a refreshingly different view of the PRP. WHle the employee will make a list of achievements, bosses make a list of ‘Areas of Improvement.” While as a reader who’s a management trainee or still in the first year of his job will feel that this is because bosses genuienely care about the progress and improvement of the subordinate and are father like mentors – they are, of course, as any non-MT and someone with more than one year experience will know, completely wrong. The ‘Areas of Improvement’ eventually get linked to the reason why your annual increment is low and why the annual bonus is also low. These areas of improvement are never concrete – they are more to do with global motherhood statements that are meant to make you feel more in the earth pit than in the stratosphere. So, Areas of Improvement are typically – ‘learning to ge aligned with the overall business objectives’, ‘an inability to think out of the box’, ‘leveraging organizational footprint for enahanced productivity’ and so on…. Most employees usually feel that the PRP is meant to ensure why they are where they are and why they cannot be where they would rather want to be.

So, while as Charlie baby would have had a 103 % of achievement verus his target and a 20 % reduction in receivables, still Charlie baby would need to ‘develop strategic depth in his managerial thinking’. Most people in their thirties have started graying because of this mixed feedback from their mid forty bosses, who of course continue to having black hair.

I was not really sure how to help Charlie. The classic ‘Offence is the best Defence’ mechanism does not usually work well in the PRP. This is because your boss will think that you are threatening him and blaming him for all the mess-ups that you have had. What works best in the PMP is the old hindi bhajan which you have to sing for your boss and which went like this >

“Tumhi ho maata, pita tumhi ho,
Tumhi ho bandhu, sakha tumhi ho..
Jo khil sakey na, woh phool hum hain,
Tumhaarey charno ki dhool hum hain…”

The earlier a person recognizes this in his career, the farther that he goes. Stop reading this, sit back and reflect for a moment or two. How many people have you known who went on to achieve something great in life by criticizing or arguing with their bosses ? All upward movements have happened as the pull from the top has been much stronger than the pull from the bottom. And how do you achieve success ? Hint – it’s a part of the sound of the word success…. Still didn’t get it..? Well let me break is for you – suck-cess… Now, does it start to make sense…Yes…? Smart. Very smart......................"

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