Saga of a lame horsie

( Painting coutesy Ms Joshita Rawat)

My Nana(peace be always with his soul) or nanoo as new generation might say was a hardy simpleton who had flair for using English words despite being a two day old school dropout result of a overzealous masterjee and it always amused me whenever he had to attend natures call he called the place ‘Latring’ which had a urgent ring to it,but it always better than Dr Om parkash using the word in his favorite phrase “..Kya khaya tha?….tatti ! hui thee…..”[1],my maternal native place is predominantly Thakur abode or was till big emigration from Kangra (Himanchal) and Garhwal has made it place of mixed loyalities ..so we were Thakurs but it seemed something was missing, let me add a piece of history here ours is a Tomar Village{Tomars are both Jaat and Rajputs in western UP }and Rajput Tomars fame to history has been being traditional rivals of Chauhans {of Prithviraj fame} and before Prithviraj they ruled Delhi and clans was quite influensive over large parts of north India , before advent of television that there was tradition of ballads an ode to Alah-udal [2]used to be sung over whole this region and although Alah udal were considered anti party to Tomars my Nana used to fondly participate in these Baladic nights, story also goes in crude rural parlance that in some small Tomar enclave power was lost to Gugaa Zahar veer[3] over a small mutton party, this used to be told to me my Nani.
Sorry for that little diversion..we continue with Nana’s disappointment in being Thakur without frills..list of mandatory things were made, pagri kept starched in trunk was left as it is since it was a cumbersome little accompaniment better left for days of court summons{ Indian judicial system with their dates and rural people fixation for land..it was potent combination}, thick silver ‘out of shape’ jewellary kept inside left untouched, Sharp Pathal(Indian blade with long handle) was already in use although with mundane job of cutting wood, traits of classical thakurs were already overtaken by nephews with their drunken brawls and fighting over land..so that was a big issue ultimately it was decided a horse is real ornament of a Rajput..here I am talking about 1976..good 32 years before this time, the village kumbhar was summoned( those days Kumbhars were the guys with Horses and these were I tell you proper horses not some Khachhars) and it was decided to visit nearest Haat at Sahaspur for top notch breed..well! top notch breeds are not that easily available that too for a proud but poor farmer but than it was decided to posses one… than sobeit,horse was bought albeit of female variety with a little crooked walk…… but than females do look good with their lopsided gait..isn’t it!!!!!.
[1] Please go through undersigned Blog entry on “ Jhatpat “{ its about instant photographers}
[2] Bundelkahndi rajput heroes
[3] While travelling in Himanchal near paonta you must have seen statue of a warrior on horse

8 year old artists images of her sibling.

Family as unit, Bijal stands out since she is the subject, it was done six months back when first tentative crawling of bijal started, Watch my tunic straight from Chandamama.

Bijal's First outing around same time, watch out Seema's Superwoman type 'Chunni'.

Artists depiction of soft toy very-2 accurate and look at the pillow the color matches perfectly, this was before Mundan so crop of hair is there.

First walking steps of Bijal, now family has faded out and doll is the companion, look at mountains and sun rising also if you look closely one tentative teeth is sticking out that's our recent Bijal

Be there with more..... till than enjoy this ship

"Motorcycle Diaries"-- Movie tribute to CHE.

Ernesto che Guevara………….The most inspiring name world over and always a morale booster for down trodden, outcasts, people on the fringes of society, he carried the idea of world as one unit and above petty nationalism, regionalism, boundaries and language barriers ..but although I do not identify with his ideology….believing strongly in India as a nation and free commerce as a way out, I still believe overcoming prejudiced social hurdles for unhindered growth, there are many communities, tribes, castes, energies which need to liberated and here che as ideology wins.

The Movie ‘Motorcycle diaries’, journey of friends Alberto & Ernesto across the American continent starting from Buenos aires- Argentina on their motorbike affectionately called ‘Mighty one’ through Andes into Peru via Chile where they see natives ousted from there ancestral lands by greedy mining corporations, in Peru they encounter proud bearers of INCA traditions still and that strikes something within Ernesto, their three months stint in a leper colony within green forests gives that humanist edge to churning mind of Ernesto, the Mighty AMAZON river acts a metaphor for divide between healthy and unhealthy of this world which Ernesto crosses over by sheer physical effort.
Over all a greatly shot movies , just saw it on ZEE MGM morning show..beautiful south American locales(Mayank would recall his Peru journey…where that thick blanket like jacket which you bought from Lima is?), its like Budhha achieving enlightenment , Che transits into the revolutionary leader immediately after this and fights shoulder to shoulder with Castro for Cuban revolution and than moves over to Bolivia, his death a conspiracy was jolt to South America .

Long live Che....Long live Subhash...Long live Savarkar....Long live Mahatama .

Champion Inhouse- you win some you lose some.

1)After recent successes Joshita again won a consolation price..the 4th position in an inter school art competition, it was more of societal awareness kind competition rather than a creative one, the topic was ' energy conservation'

She has got a very modern looking tiffin as the prize and pride in fact that her group was made of artists three years her seniors.

2) In an Intra amity talent search she got listed

http://www.amity.edu/aice/pdf%5C8_7.pdf although there are various other talented chidren as well, it should act as a motivator for her.

Bhadraj

Beautiful Bhadraj as seen from Belonwala, Dinu's ancestral land. This was our destination of the day. Unfortunately, we had to turn back from Butoli for 2 reasons. 1, because of Dinu's lumpy body, we ended up walking slower and had to take several unnecassry breaks, and 2, the trek is not so widely used anymore and it was hard not to lost track. By the time we reached Butoli, we barely had time to descend before it became dark. Therefore, we had to end our trek at Butoli. Anyway, there is always next time.

India Trip ‘08: The arriving, Part III

Oct, 19, when we reached the platform, Manish came back with good news – my reservation had been confirmed. I was traveling first class for the first time on an Indian train, and there was certain amount of anticipation for the fellow passengers. 1st class cabins contains 4 berths behind closed doors.

The first cabin mate was one Sudhir Shukla, who was totally in the mood of sleeping and avoided all conversation attempts from me. He yelled twice at the attendant for not having laid the sheets yet on the berth. Once done, he covered himself up all the way and went to sleep. The second one came in a little bit a later, was a swamiji going to Haridwar. The third one looked at me from head to toe with extremely hostile manners, but eventually shifted to another cabin because he had to get off at Roorkee. The toilets on the coach were unusually neat and clean - -a highlight of Laloo’s regime I guess.

Once the train started moving, everyone went to sleep except for me. For me, it was the peak of the day based on American time. The train reached Meerut at around 1:15 AM. Baby, my sister, and her family came to meet me there. We hardly exchanges smiles and gifts, and the train started moving. Once train departed from there, I tried to get some sleep, but couldn’t.

The train reached Doon before time and therefore stayed put for 15 minutes or so at the station before. Nobody was in a hurry to get off as this is the last stop of the train and also the wee hours of the morning everybody was sleeping soundly including Manish. I ringed him twice but he didn’t budge. Family was eagerly waiting at the station. Krishi was almost half asleep and didn’t react when I held him in my arms. Papa looked much older with hair having greyed even more.

While driving home in the auto-rickshaw, I noticed that all the roads were in great condition and also every few meters there was rumble strip speed breakers that were more of nuisance than safety. The report is that the mileage of vehicles have dropped significantly and hence consumption of petrol gone up because one has to slow down to avoid a bump. Anyways, it felt great to be back to the city I grew up in.

‘The Day or Jackal’ or ‘The Jackal’-The Old wine in new bottle…. I would say.

For all ye illiterates of world or word. The name Fredrick Forsyth may or may not ring bell.

The book by author a classical thriller set in Gaullist France, revolves around conspiracy to assassinate French president ‘ Charles de Gaulle’ by a ruthless mercenary assassin known by alias of ‘ Jackal’ the ending is never really in doubt because it is more or less historical fiction, an insurgent group hires a professional assassin to kill the president of France. Standing in the assassin's way is an unimposing French detective; the compelling feature of the novel is the battle of wits between the assassin and the unlikely detective.

The 1973 movie is verbatim based on the novel and sticks to plot very honestly actors are unknown to me but still a taut thriller keeping me on the edge of seat, now ‘ The Jackal ‘ is different matter altogether with starcast of Bruce willis as ‘ Jackal’ and Richard gere as his worthy adversary and with Dolby stereo sound its a treat, plot is loosely based on novel but the essence remains same, it seems 60s jackal is transferred to newly liberated Russia with all salient points of novel and older movie replaced in new setting.

Good time pass...............both of them and I did not face any issue watching both B2B on VCD player.

Trip to Butoli- (Part 2) getting nearer to Bhadraj

Mr Jain with his shorts and skinny hairy legs looked almost like the big spiders infesting the route to ‘ Muaal doong’ ……..no! its not a place ruled by Dong of Dongrilla.

Doonga village once the shooting spot for a Mala sinha starrer, is now almost a SPA village with home to many a Delhiwallas with their villas, the canal by the colony being developed by a builder takes you to the ‘Muaal doong’, the fountain head for this canal called a ‘ Doonga’ canal, its one of the practical work done by the government under its eighties extension scheme called ‘ Lab to land’, this canal has made possible for villagers to take crop of famed doon Basmati rice, Ma says she has saved some for me from this years ‘Batao’ or ‘ third portion’ being given by our tiller.

We reached this fountain head after much huffing-puffing by Mr Jain and in between a break for his pulling on khakis over his shorts,so far he was all ga –ga over the raw beauty of this place, I do not pity him since nearest rural Mr Jain has experienced is either Gobindgarh or Kandhla but with this spot he almost fainted with joy, it was nature unspoilt at its best and although in thick of habitation the route made it so that it looked almost like a virgin place discovered by us( Alok please post few pics of river) we decide to take a break and opened our lunch packs and ate like never before after an hours break we were up and ready few stretching exercises and off we were….. and than!!!!….we lost track.( To be contd either by Alok or me)

Birth & Death, Part 2 - Naniji

Not that I remember her as a young lady. She was always old for me. But I remember her as a lady of huge energy and powerful voice. And in fact all her children are extremely energetic as well. For some reason, I didn't pick up this trait from her, or may be the modern lifestyle made me lazy. She always got up before the day break, took her shower and then went to temple every day without fail. Later on, when she was less able to get out of the house, she still continued her routine and performed puja at the temple inhouse, rather. During my India trips every year or two, she did look weaker and older, yet her energy and activity remained the same. This time, when I went to see her, though, I was in for a shock. I was there for about half-day, and she mostly just sat in one chair, with her food & water served. She walked only to visit bathroom. She was mostly just bones with arched body and shorter height, and had dim eyes with black circles and her head bent, confidence totally shaken. Most of all she didn't even recognize me at first, and I had to remind her 3 times during 3 hours about who I was and I still didn't know how much she remembered me. Few months ago, she went through a hip replacement surgery after having broken it by slipping. That, it seemed was a big blow on his physical and mental abilities. But, it was still heart-warming to see her passion for life still alive. Instead of just going to sleep, she maintained interest in the conversations happening around her; only this time she mostly just listened. And, when asked for a picture, she made sure to put her shawl over her head so she looked good.

I really don't know if I am ever to going to see her again. I hope and pray I do. But somewhere down in my heart, I am not resisting death that much any more. I have come back with a deeper realization of the impermaneancy & shortness of life. I hope this realization is deep enough to stick around. I am resolving this moment to get out of the rat race that I have reluctantly entered over the last 5 years. The same old calm and relaxation has pervaded my body. I know it's not going to be easy to escape the pull of the rats, but I am going to try harder. We all should, I think.

Tonga ride in Meerut

Birth & Death, Part 1

When I was a kid, I never even thought about change. Everything was forever as far as I knew. Even if it wasn't, next year was always decades away. Time used to walk a slow walk then. Even later on when I was out of home to earn a living, the vigor of youth was flowing through the veins, and I always felt that I had all the time in the world to accomplish my goals. Then people 2 generations up start falling down, and I did notice death to some extent, but still didn't feel it.

But there came a point when I couldn't anymore escape realizing that time was really passing very fast and before I would realize I might very well be bed-ridden praying to god to give me a decent death. Over the last few months, I have been going sort of through a half mid-life crisis, with my mind continuously occupied with birth and death, and the purpose of any worldy actions at all especially the greed, stress and tension involved while doing them. More so as my dad turns 70 this december, I have come to realization that I can't postpone anymore the 'agenda' of spending as much time as possible with him while he still has traces of youth in him. During my recent trip to India, I came across a few sights that generated sadness in my heart and comforted me at the same time with my nightmares about aging (that I am not alone). I came face to face with change and aging. All the people that I looked up to as I was growing up - my aunts and uncles had visibly become old. In fact, many of them looked oddly disfigured - fatness, wrinkles, arched bodies, limped walk, rotten teeth, are to name some. On the same day, 2 of our older acquaintances bid their final adieu - one from my dad's generation, and the other from his immediate generation up. The most saddening of all was my naniji's state that I wanted to specifically talk about here. Stay tuned ...

Trip to Butoli…(Part 1) unfinished agenda of Bhadraj

We started little early, I had just reached doon from Guragon for Deewali a day earlier and it was 24th October and as decided a month back Alok who was in doon for week almost now was ever prepared, he was still not out of self inflicted jet lag…. Mr jain was showing all signs of desis gone American, he even asked would in india diapers for babies would be available and strongest signal came when he started out in shorts( That’s another matter when in first kilometer itself he switched to Khakis).

The Car drive from Gurgaon to doon still lingered with Calf muscles ache and sleepiness in the eyes but than for a man honour is more important than minor troubles like body ache and as promised to Mr Jain, I was ready with my Aloo stuffed paranthas and omelltte by 7 sharp in morning.

Coming back to day before drive , the Delhi-Doon highway is super duper now , although still unfinished in patches the drive was smooth , its been my 9th or 10th ‘own car’ trip to doon and I enjoy this driving very much, I have used all routes including one from Yamunanagar – Jagadhari - Paonta and also Shamli- Loni-Delhi , Mr Sharma’s recommendation of customized ‘ air bagged’ vehicle certainly spurs me on but sometimes I think was the extra cost justified?

Sorry for little diversion .. Alok and me on my Estillo rode towards Belonwala and parked the vehicle at a relatives place, bags and all we were on the way towards the Bhadraj( To be contd.. either by Alok or me)