Masterji: As I remember

Yes, you wore many hats.
I remember you.
Those were the sixties of the previous century when rickshaws were everywhere. The migrants from our neighbouring state, Telugu speaking from Andhra Pradesh drove those cheap, but friendly and ubiquitous vehicles. They were early days to understand eco-friendly modes of mobility.Maybe, there was only a handful, rich enough to own private cars.
In your spare time which was very little, I’d imagine, you worked on these simple contraptions, repaired and even assembled them. There were quite a few of these rickshaws that you owned and employed many robust and hardworking Telugus at your popular outlet, near the erstwhile Capital Cinema Hall. Many who had seen this part of you either quietly sniggered in the shadows or shamefacedly criticised in front.
Now I know and understand the hands-on man, that was you: pioneering, courageous and entrepreneurial. Not for you were the cosy comforts of a staid world bound by non-enterprising mores or pettiness borne out of lazily held property or decadent riches. You were your own man.
I remember the three daughters in their very early teens in colourful Salwar Kameez or flowering skirts on bicycles would set the dry and dusty streets of Cuttack a flutter. They rode the lady-cycles without a carrier in front of the seat and without a care.From “Sati Chaura” to “Chauliaganj” they biked equally comfortable talking to boys as with the others.Eyeballs surely would have rolled like Chinese toys.The girls next door or the touch-me-not unmarried maids and mocking mothers would miss this liberating sight when bounded indoors for their stuck up elders believed that good girls were not to be touched by the polluting influence of the “chokris”.. If there were sighs, heartaches or secret desires seeking such freedom by the nubile lovelies inside of their homes we do not know but can only guess! That besides the cry and spit of contempt of the gentlemen and women could not be hidden and their evil gazes dotted the trail of these innocent, freewheeling cyclists. The mother of the Singh Family, however, dignified and distinguished both in looks and education lovingly let her girls fly.( And mind you, they could cook too!) Masterji was nonchalant, unfazed and happily cheered the family on, well ahead and above of it all. You were modern enough without the usual trappings.
I remember you could drink “lotas”(round vessel of brass or aluminium) of water through your nose and relish a full mouthful of fresh green chillies in equal measure with a “handi”(earthen pot) of Rasogoolas .Dread and awe transfixed the gazes of the uninitiated and the young while the matured and smug continued with their snigger. Who was to tell the latter of their native ignorance’s when they beheld these spectacular feats?
I remember the gather of the men, women, and children from Bihar who found in your home succour, support, and shelter. You were the mentor, guide and father to them who nostalgically missed their distant homes, families, and friends left behind through the humming and mostly loud singing of Bhojpuri folk to the accompaniment of Harmonium, dholaks and manjiras(little brass cymbals) clanging tunefully against each other. The taste of the wonderful choka, puris , dum alloo,dai bhalles and what-have-you still lingers of the many feasts of Holi, Chhat Puja, and Diwali. You made this happen Masterji to get the merry band of migrant Biharis coming together.One question though naggingly lingers.Was your politics not about the belted oversized khaki shorts, lathi and the white gangees(vests)?Just as an aside, good :they are good:those that wear the same today ,a lbeit in trousers they are! But well, that is another story.
Today, you leave me and many else wondering why do we remember now. Why do ideators,polygots,musicians, filmmakers, painters, and authors, artists philosophers while on their path-breaking and innovative drives during their lifetime seldom get recognised or discovered? Why do we not see the many flavours of life and its struggles that different people, cultural diversity, languages, and places bring? Why does it take time to see the seeds being sown for the many flowers to be born from the energy, courage, vision, sweat and toil of an unsung but tireless gardener?
Sadly, it is only, much after, that we do! In most instances, that is, By then, it is but the tale of too little too late I’ d suppose

P.S. After Pappu’s tribute.Another reminisce…

Continue reading “Masterji: As I remember”

Akashganga: They also Serve, who Just Stand and Wait – XV

Behind the risk of life and limb stood the woman by his man. Running from sick quarters to banks and schools, buying groceries riding cycles or by walk, receiving and seeing off loved relatives all by themselves, while her loved man was away is a quality taken for granted and an unwritten part of the wife’s job description. Cooking late meals without notice with nothing in store for an unannounced number of gatecrashers, the free-flowing rum and groggy men being the proverbial last straw. Do not get it wrong here! These were still early days for the women to enjoy much less taste the tabooed liquor. It took a while before the docile and submissive Nari came into her own. In her Sunday best, she soldiered on with a smile. Tears there must have been and many at that but these were to be borne and shared by each husband in the dark corners of the bedroom.

Source: Akashganga: They also Serve, who Just Stand and Wait – XV

Akashganga: Daffodils in the Sky and Butterflies in the Belly – XIV

Akashganga never had it so good. Enthused and awed by the sense of spectacle, for the first time in the history of the Air Force, a full load of 37 skydivers in spanking new and fancy dungarees jumped to join an assembled parade contingent on ground consisting of nine Squadrons of three flights each of about a thousand Vayuputras, in 1989. They then joined the ceremonial march past in the august presence of Mini Bawa, the Mukhya Deva Adhikari of the Central Command. Banjo was commended by the Chief of Air Staff for this unique planning and exhibition of military freefalling skills imbued with the spirit and festivity of sports skydiving. Sunil tells us more about the thrill and threats of Akashganga, in the weekly column, exclusively for Different Truths.

Source: Akashganga: Daffodils in the Sky and Butterflies in the Belly – XIV

Akashganga: Do You Have it in You? – IV

Freefall had moved on from the ungainly and rather rigid spread-eagle position to “stable frog position” and onto body-acrobatics in the air.

Source: Akashganga: Do You Have it in You? – IV

Akashganga: Birth Pangs and Anxieties of Adolescence – V

Free Fall Training was temporarily a victim of “Stop-Go- Stop” hiccups. In order to counter the doubts on its efficacy, a re-examination and review of the free

Source: Akashganga: Birth Pangs and Anxieties of Adolescence – V

Akashganga:Cosmogony and Mythology of the Indian Air Force Skydiving Team(1)

Not since the days of Veda Vyasa, Mahabharata, the Phantom, Vikram and Betal fables and folklore have been so haunting and mysterious! “Fact, it is believed, very often is stranger than fiction! And I prefer the latter”. Someone so wittily had avowed.

That said, the Kaurava King, the father of a hundred sons, Dhritharastra, bade his charioteer, blessed with futuristic vision (Divya Drishti) Sanjaya to speak of what he saw in another age and time. He sat like most days each morning by the river Sarayu and watched the clean waters rush past…

This is the Kali Yuga. It is difficult, my master, when you set about talking of your ancestors, gurus, elders, friends and family pleaded, the honest Sanjaya. More so when some are not alive and most untraceable. Yet, he continued in the royal second plural. We did not have a culture of recording or documenting about our pioneering school for paratroopers. This gave I suppose a lot of grist to the colonial mill of hitherto, British historians who were so fond of ridiculing and used to say – “the Brownies. These Shudras have no history. It only began with our writing about them.” For more  read on at

Travels with Tokon :Udta Punjab

My friend Tokon had been very keen to  see the Golden Temple, Jallianwallabagh,Wagah Border and all that was there to Amritsar. I am not particularly religious. But having been born to a Bengali, Hindu Brahmin family, God and religion was not just a part of the necessary vocabulary of growing up but one seemed to encounter  its all-pervasiveness while living, sleeping and eating on a daily basis.Even perhaps in our dreams.That aside,history and the Sikhs as a community fascinated me since childhood.The Sikhs were martial,handsome, big and strong compared to the generally undernourished and famished Bengalis.They had fought the Mughals valiantly and were hardworking farmers too.Interestingly,Bengali households found them to be reassuring and comforting and always recommended their daughters to hire Sikh driven taxis, when alone, for their reliability.

The day finally came when Tokon,my wife and I made the trip on the morning of 21st August by Swarna Shatabdi Express from Delhi to Amritsar

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Swarna Shatabdi Express at New Delhi Railway Station before departure

.This was the first time all  of us were making the journey to Amritsar.Tokon and I had become senior citizens save Aarti, who is on the wrong side of fifty,devout and god fearing.She was our Travel Planner.

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Platform No I it says.

As the train chugged away passing through large and vast fields of green,small and unknown stations,crowded bazaars ,wide highways and lines of trucks I thought of this pioneering social reformer Guru Nanak,the founder of Sikhism.Fed up with the idolatrous Hindu Brahmins, the oppressive caste system and the inequality in society he preached and sang about a new radical social order.Kabir,Farhad and many others joined in the chorus for change and upliftment.These were the days of social renaissance and we are talking about the 15th and 16th century.Subsequent Gurus added to the secular character of this newly formed religious order while reinforcing it with a war-like, aggressive ideology.The Muslims used to constantly harass,loot and attack these swathes of land.

Maharaja Ranjit Singh and his exploits of daredevilry as far as Afghanistan,fighting for the British in the two Great Wars,the revolutionary Bhagat Singh,the freedom loving spirit of the survivors of Komagata Maru,sacrifices of innocent civilians in the massacre of Jallianwala Bagh,the altruism and courage in the INA was the stuff of bedtime stories: the essential Sikh.Post Independence they were to be seen as far east as Imphal or south in Cochin.They were entrepreneurial,mechanically savvy and loved to work on emerging technologies.Hard working they drove trucks and taxis across states.

Punjab had by then got its statehood but this had not entirely satisfied the Sikh majority.The Green revolution of the sixties had given the Jat Sikhs and the landowners the first taste of rapid growth and modernisation.A small but important section had climbed up the social ladder and soon spread out to Europe, USA,London, Canada and the Africa.Money was being sent back home in plenty.Land was bought and farmed by hired wage labourers.Exploitation of the lower classes like leather workers,sharecroppers,scavengers,carpenters,washer-men,sweepers,blacksmiths and such others was bringing disrepute.They were denied of their dues and rights as the entrenched aristocracy went slow or sabotaged implementation of the land reforms.The Gurudwaras had slowly become exclusive and in very subtle ways were reluctant to open out to the poor.The  Hindu Punjabis for their part always saw in the rise of Jat Sikhs a threat to their business or agricultural interests.A new fractured social order was lurking in the shadows contrary to what had  been so generously conceived by the visionary Sikh Gurus. It was verily going to seed.Akalis and the Shiromani Gurudwara Prabhandak Committee(SGPC) hung on to a regressive,chauvinistic and authoritarian ideology riding on the enormous funds of the Gurudwaras.The Congress on its part was struggling to continue with an uneasy polygamous marriage of convenience with different and contrasting parties. Into this melting pot the Bahujan Samaj Party(BSP) rallied round the disenfranchised lower castes and was mobilising them under a new flag and ideology with great success.The Sikhs had themselves squabbled and split. The new pretenders, the Nirankaris laid claim to being the true leadership of the Sikhs.The Radhey Swamis also threw in their lot. Like always the politicians and the powerful had together sold out its own power base-the people and was busy killing the golden goose.Like always the stage was set for some motivated fishing in troubled waters

.My thoughts raced ahead in no sequence or chronology recollecting the history and politics of the region.I was excited and curious.Suddenly,the train jerked to a stop. A whole heap of talk, noise  and movement in the aisles interrupted my dark thoughts.We had reached Amritsar and I was to step on the soil of Punjab for the first time.

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In the auto .Tokon and Aarti

 On the 22nd Aug, around 6 in the morning we were at the SwarnaMandir.Most shops leading to the temple were closed,residential houses  were still to feel the first rays of the sun and remained tucked into their snug bedsheets perhaps.Sweepers were still cleaning the roads and open spaces while the early risers were warming themselves with a steaming cup of “pati-tej chai”(strong tea) from their favourite roadside vendors ! The meandering path was margined by garish, unkempt hotels and shops to disappoint as it curled upwards to the Golden Temple.It was a maze of alleyways sometimes chokingly narrow and sometimes wide as souks  as  if the history of assaults by  Mughal,Afghan and later the English from 17th to 19th century had permanently infused a sense of siege even into its architecture and town planning.

 A bandana to cover our heads was provided for free while we removed our shoes and handed over to a matter-of-fact caretaker.Thereafter,we stepped into a clean patch of water in a marbled drain of sorts to clean our feet before entering the sacred premises.

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The first sight

And then was the spectacle ! We stood at one of the four enormous gateways leading  into the Golden Temple located at four cardinal directions, symbolizing  the inclusiveness of the Sikh faith for all religions,caste, creed or colour.

As we descended down the flight of stairs, a striking sight filled our eyes : the golden Harmandir Sahib (the abode of the Gods) majestically shimmering on the surrounding  placid waters of Amrit Sarovar(the lake of ambrosia).

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The ablutions before the prayers

Out of habit and reverence our heads bowed in prayer.Interestingly,the place of worship,the other gurudwaras,restrooms and the marbled walkways  have been deliberately designed down below to emphasise humility and gratitude as the central virtues of this young faith.

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A practicing Sikh  offers his prayers.Notice the sling which carries a small kirpan.

Thought and conceived by the third Guru Amardas in the mid 16th century,it was Guru Ram Das who helped its construction. Finally the fifth Guru Arjan Singh who also gave further shape and substance to Harmandir Sahib a.k.a Durbar Sahib (the Court of the Lord) completed it in a manner of speaking. Guru Arjan also compiled and  placed the Adi Granth(the holy book of Sikhism of more than 7,000 Sikh, Sufi, and Hindu hymns, set to 31 ragas and calibrated to different moods, occasions, and times of the day) in the heart of the Durbar Sahib . Each day before dawn, the Sri Guru Granth Sahib is transported in a palanquin from the Akal Takht to the sanctum sanctorum, to be read and sung from,until late night.

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Tokon dressed up for the pilgrimage

The waters of the Ravi were channelized to keep the tank water filled and it was Maharaja Ranjit Singh who contributed in gold to give the temple its famous persona. The Akal Takht(the Throne of the Timeless One)

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The Akal Takht :the Throne of the Timeless One

one of the five Takhts, but highest in importance was added by Guru Hargobind to be the seat of temporal power. Thus  both the temporal and spiritual (the concept of piri and miri) were co-located in the precincts of this historic temple.guide-map-of-golden-temple-amritsarA square walkway of marble with intricate inlays(typically reflecting the congruence of Mughal and Hindu architectural styles )circumlocutes the Harmandir Sahib.While walking through I noticed the many hundreds of ceremonial plaques,commemorative pieces and marble stones of various regiments with the names of officers and men embedded in various walls.The Harmandir Sahib also stood as a testimonial of the acts of bravery and sacrifices and martyrdom plaques of its brave sons fighting for the British stretching from Mesopotamia,North Africa, Malaya,Turkey and later for the Indian Army.

The two Bunga Ramgarhia Towers stood as erect sentinels of the Guru ka Langar(Community kitchen) building which provides a simple non-vegetarian meal to all devotees for free and accommodates as many as one hundred thousand devotees in a day. The soft and serene sounds of the Shabad which starts playing pretty early and goes into the late night envelops this awesome place in a spiritual embrace of bliss. This unique blend or contrasts in sight and sound entrances the believer and the unfaithful alike !

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The causeway that links the Harminder Sahib with the Akal Takht.Aarti stands overwhelmed.
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Dukh Bhanjani Ber

The mystique and mythology continue unabated.The three old Ber trees ( Jujube) fascinate the inquisitive.Sikh Gurus preferred to plant jujube trees in the religious places (Gurdwaras). In the Golden Temple, Amritsar, the historic jujube trees are the sign of rich heritage. Ber Baba Budha Sahib is one of the oldest jujube trees and is considered 440 years old. As this tree was associated with religious Saint Baba Budha Ji, hence it is called Ber Baba Budha Sahib. Dukh Bhanjani Ber and Lachhi Ber are also very old jujube trees.

Many such stories have kept the faithful in awe.Fact and fiction combine ever so often in this Temple of the Gods.We feel weary and sad for the time has come to leave.The three of us would carry our very own impressions.Some new, some shared and some very private and personal.We shall tell new stories to the ever-growing numbers of the faithful or just curious.  and thus the sacred word shall spread. Aarti, perhaps feels blessed and is very grateful;Tokon considers himself fortunate to have made it this far as I am clouded with mixed feelings on our climb out of the Temple thinking of that inevitable tragedy of June 1984.

Operation BlueStar should never have happened.Though I know it shall again. What with the evil and misdirected finding strange retreats ! The devout and the well-meaning together rue the divisive politics of those days and the impious entry of the Indian Army boots into its sacred interiors, the pathology of a Bhindranwale,heartless and avoidable loss of lives of the innocent and the wanton destruction of the holy of holies, Harmandir Sahib, in a free India by the tanks, helicopters and armour of the Indian Armed forces.A Prime Minister and a Chief of the Army Staff paid with their lives .So did several hundreds of Sikhs later during that sad year.

The proud Sikhs seemed to have been wronged by desperate measures. .Punjab no longer has the rivers flowing freely.No longer do the fields dance the bhangra or beat the Dhol when green and golden. Poverty and casteism is back with a vengeance.Politics rules the roost..The Shabad of equality,non-discrimination and brotherhood is slowly dying in the Punjabi hearts.He suffers.The nation bleeds.The hurt lingers still, refusing to heal…

 So for one last time, on my way out,from all of us,our sincere prayers to that One Onkar, to make this land once again,the Land of the Brave !

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