Chhanno

            Chhanno’s house is locked. Where has she gone! I wonder! It was said that she was a prostitute and was running a brothel. Her house was in the main street. Her other  neighbors were decent and 'Khandani' people. We, as teenagers, were very curious abt her house. We heard so many stories about her and seen some bad famed women visiting her house. It was a mixture of curiosity, fear and excitement when ever we passed through her street. Some times police raided her house but after spending some hours at police station she was back to her business. I never heard her being in jail on account of prostitution. While passing through her street we used to have a glimpse at her house in the quest of something exciting. But never found a thing which could please our eyes. Of course whenever we found the door open we heard an unusual conversation and Chhanano’s laughter was always louder than others. There was an obsequious pinch in her laughter, which was, I think, always required, keeping her forty plus clients and paramours have their wallets open. And whenever we found the door closed we ran the horses of our imagination as far as they could go. I don know if it was her misfortune or adventure that she was into a profession which is not seen with patience, though, she was fortunate enough to have one of India’s least disturbing communities, partition migrants, as neighbors. Chhanno had a full-fledged family, a husband whom I some times saw drunk and being thrashed by his wife out of house, a daughter, I don’t know if she was also being served to Chhanno’s clients but she was an active partner in those unusual conversations, she was around 18 yrs, beautiful, fair and slender waisted. Chhano was around fifty, had many extra pounds on her body, beetle nut stained teeth. I could never dare to notice any thing more. Her house was on main street and today, after many years when I passed through the street I was curious to see it locked, more than the times when was open. But I’ll b a fool if enquiring abt a ‘bai’. And I’ll b one if I continue to write abt a prostitute as I never had a relation with that house other than lot of imaginations. And I can’t risk my character for the sake of the imaginations.

Happy Journey

      Two days back I was on railway platform to board the train to my home town. While I was approaching my coach I saw a long ‘Q’. I wondered, why the queue was, but it din’t take me long to recognize poor general compartment passengers. The recent tragedy at New Delhi railway station struck to my mind. Those who died and injured all were poor people who travel in general compartment. I am not sure how many of the readers of this blog ever traveled in general compartment and how many even travel by train. I was satisfied to see the arrangement by the railway police, who kept strict vigil on the activities of those willing to board the train; they maintained the Q and video graphed the whole arrangements. Other day a woman lost her leg in the chaos on the same Ahmedabad station. It was a mistake of the driver who stopped the train at the wrong place and the train started backing up to reach to its original place of halt. This resulted in to breaking of the Qs. Ppl ran behind the train and all arrangements were waste. Question is this, why general class passengers! Mahatma Gandhi always traveled by third class. It was his way to know and express the misery of a common man. Railways then did ehsaan to Mahtma, banished third class coaches from passenger trains. But the misery of common men was no third class coach. Those who make polices in air-conditioned rooms with Bisleri bottles on their tables do not seem to be worried about the doomed living of the poor! And those luckier ones traveling in the reserved coaches are not aware how the ppl in the general coaches of same train are hanging, climbing, squeezing, fighting, quarrelling and arguing.

         Lot of hue and cry is made over security checks on airports, abroad but who cares about Haryanvi speaking Blue Line bus conductors, in Delhi,  who ill treat thousands of Bihari labourers daily.

Bhairon Singh Shekhawat

      The news of Bhairon Singh Shekhawat’s departure came to me from US. Some body wanted to know, which Indian leader died. I jumped to the internet immediately to find out his demise. I was shocked. During lunch I gave this news to a colleague, snapped he back, “What he did for Rajput Samaj. If wished he could have given reservation to Rajputs.” I was shocked second time with in an hour. The fundamental of reservation has always kept me wondering. Is the reservation a tool of social upliftment or it’s a privilege to stronger group out numbering other communities. Should one be proud of being in reserved category or one should feel humbled for being in that. Gujjar in Rajasthan have been paralising normal public life for their inclusion in scheduled tribes. Let’s not dispute the claim of a dominating agriculture class with strong vote bank for the same but what about the communities like Gadiya Luhar (a nomadic community of iron smiths which wanders in bullock carts from one place to another) and other nomadic and semi nomadic tribes. Some of them have not yet been included into scheduled categories and those which have been are not benefited from it and are still forced to lead nomadic life. In fact reservation has not helped poor and weak to strengthen but has helped lesser strong to become stronger and stronger. It has not reached to the person at the lowest rung of the society and it will never reach as those strong beneficiaries of this lollypop will never let it happen. Any attempt made to reach this facility to the needful will be thwarted by those of likes Lalu, Mulayam and Paswan on one pretext or other.

        Bhairon Singh Shekhawat worked for the society as a whole and he was never sticked to a single community. He was the face of modern Rajsthan. It was his efforts that Rajasthan has picked up the pace of progress. And infact he was the alone Rajput Member, of his party, in then assembly who voted in the favour of abolition of Jamindari. This should be in the knowledge of those too who vow to immolate themselves if Bhairon Shingh became Vice President of India and shamlelessly keep on living the life useless to every one till God keeps on showering His mercy .

   Those who talk abt particular ‘Samajs’ always forget that Imam of Jama Masjid might claim to be representative of Mohammedans in India but APJ Abdul Kalam represents the whole India.

Untrustworthy Human

        My balcony has become a breeding place for pigeons. A pair hatches the eggs, squabs come out of them, grow feathers and fly and a new female lays eggs, the process goes on. In evenings and mornings I see some pairs in romantic mood and good! I think, they do it here, I welcome their idea of privacy, and otherwise a love garden is not too far from my place. I have allotted balcony for their activities and I don’t mind cleaning the twigs of their nest which they litter all around. There is mutual consent between me and the pigeons, I don’t offend them in their place and they don’t do that in mine. Though I strictly follow the rule but they often try to encroach into my place. Other day they made a clumsy nest out side my window and laid there. A couple of days before a pair of small pink squabs came out of the eggs. I was worried if they fell down and died, in afternoon I fixed a plank under the nest to make it safer. But the next morning, when I went to investigate my arrangement, I found the nest empty; I could not locate the squabs neither the parents. Probably they felt insecure from my efforts and shifted their children to some other place.
       After all the birds should not trust wretched humans!

Gujarat Uncle

        Gujarat is celebrating its 50th anniversary all the buildings are ordered to be illuminated in the capital city of Gandhinagar and the order is followed, in some cases, to compete with bright daylight. Indeed Gujarat has sufficient electricity to spend and I don’t think lively and celebration hungry Gujaratis will mind this extravaganza.

         I admire Narendra Modi for many things. And one of them is, keeping Gujarat at a good pace, having sufficient electricity being a part. When almost whole country, particularly north India, is suffering from power shortage, it’s probably Gujarat alone, with out load shedding and power cuts. Though it’s vary difficult for me to ignore the wastage of electricity in the wake of it’s shortage and global warming but I see, people enjoying the show and I carry a soft heart under my ribs. Though nature, in Gandhinagar, is celebrating Gujarat’s 50 yrs in its own way, amaltaas who had shed all its leaves, around a month back, is bright happy, covering itself with yellow flowers and it seems, it has forgotten to wear the traditional green. I remember a couplet frm a famous poet

        अमलतास ने आँखें खोली..... शेफाली शरमाई

     While every one, including Mother Nature, is deeply in to celebrations, lets forget whole of the country is ‘power hungry’ and farmers in very Gujarat are getting only eight hrs of electricity. Let’s welcome Gujarat uncle's grey hair with yellow flowers in day and lot of electricity during night.