Desolated

Feel like a bird shot in mid air swirling down ? Straight down to the ground I , stayed frozen dead for few hours, my subconsciousness  taking flight to the realms undefinable . I began  counting  numbers to break through the colossal opacity ahead.  I stretch my nerves to knot them to the reed but they slip several times.I find flashing stripes with every unsuccessful attempt .Somebody was telling me to emerge. I am struggling hard to regain my conscious. I am traveling through long tunnels of subliminal . It was a very hard journey. I am rowing with bare hands to dissipate the intangible encompassing. Each time I stumble I gather myself again to put both ends together profusely sweating.It is hard job. It requires lot of precision.I think I am just about to make it.Yes. In a while I began to creep tardily quite not sure of attainment. Oblivious of my onward trip, like subordinate ordered to carry an dispassionate act I carry forward.I slipped once again on my way but could trace back my threads quickly. As I go further there appear to be some traces of faint lighting. I thrash to the walls with wild rapidity. All at once I zoomed to the temporal disclosure with a jolt.

Yes it is a terrestrial landscape. I can sense squeaking birds and hustling trees.Enormous light pierce my eyes. I battle a while to open them. My body seemed to have frozen. I hear my hands crunch while making a petty movement. I plod my fingers like I do with logs. Frost sheds from my frigid shoulder while I heave it to the height. I am able to guess I have survived fatal shoot. I am back. Back to the world of splendor. Back to the world of tribulations.I am free to reckon what I receive. Manifestly soul survives as I understand. Never let the sorrow to batter your soul. A piece of it is coming back when I stretch my hand deliriously. I pine to snuggle to it when I stop bleeding.

This is how some one close to me is feeling right now. Obviously it hurts me too.

Sadak (Road)

A foggy morning as it took me some time to realize what is in front of me, I found a new thrill. They laid a metal road with a nice black top right in front of house. What an unexpected gift ! What a great relief ! From time immemorial I have been sharing this road with cows, apple carts, beggars,  autos, cycles,  buses, cars, coconut bunches, motorcycles, scooters, every damn moving machine  which has got a disc at the bottom  called  a wheel. .

 I really get puzzled to see one slipping  into the main road with such a neck breaking speed without stopping for a second to look around and understand the intensity of traffic on the main road . I am sure many must have  been  driving these roads  for decades  not quite sure of  traffic  rules, right of way etc..etc..such weird things .  For some  only two things are identifiable like a break and an accelerator in terms of their  vehicle. .Still the most wondrous thing about this country is, many are  able to find my way into road  jungle world without tumbling.

The new road which looks like a rare possession, is obviously being enjoyed by every one. But all of us have a lurking fear in mind that this joy is transient, as every department on earth will find it's way of locating our  new road. They might  take  oath to dig it with precision under some pretext or other. Day one.. two, pass with peace, third day definitely they will find a malfunctioning telephone line or sewage pipe with perfect synchronicity.  They will come up with new zeal to lay some new lines. It leaves us to  wonder what they were doing all the days when the roads were anyhow in bad condition. But all of us perfected the art of trekking the left over mud. Restoration left to wind by the concerned departments the new metal road keeps shedding tears with dents in it's heart.

 Like every one else  I perfected the art of trekking the loads of mud left on the roads . By the time I get down from the mound , the scooter is ready from back to thrash me down, the poor rider struggling to balance it with his fat wife and son as pillion, his little daughter standing in front trying to take control of his handle. Occasionally I find few rescue islands called foot paths but the joy of walking lasts only for a minute.  I am forced to find a fruit vendor with his territorial instincts binds a a roap around his neatly arranged oranges and watermelons which stretch through out the footpath . Many scooters and cars are   fortunate enough to find puncture wallah only next to him.  He too has a stake on foot path and manages to keep his bulky air filling machine on it, with pipes hung to the tree on his head. The RTC buses are precariously racing with cars heavily leaning to the left with numerous people hanging to it. What the poor driver can do? His regular trips are scheduled and he is bound to reach the destination on time by land or air. Each RTC driver and conductor should be awarded with Ashok Chakra for transporting these millions to their destinations on this  bumpy road. Conductor somehow manages to penetrate into the crowd to sell a ticket to the reluctant passenger who is silently praying his god to bring his bus stop as soon as possible before a demon called conductor approaches him.No amount of physical contact with women folk can wrack conductor's celibacy. With old and infirm unable to board, few enthusiastic mothers taking opportunity of this busy hour to teach their  toddlers the lessons of boarding and alighting  the bus, few young girls trying their cat walks with their stilettos , he always finds it difficult to tell them that he is running behind the schedule.

What is more intriguing is my puncture wallah's ability to communicate with a half naked lunatic who prefers to sit in that corner often meditating and occasionally pelting stones on by passers. The new laid road gave rise to hopes to jobless bunch of ill dressed youngsters who can be put to multifarious uses right from physical  labour to begging, and stealing. It extended their periphery. The untidily dressed men hiding them selves in the tree shades float in their hallucinations consuming cheaper versions of drugs  later only  to be found laid  unconscious.   

I did not even feel like getting into the by lane leaving my precious though hazardous road for the sheer pleasure of gliding over it again and again , squeezing between unauthorized parked cars, comforting myself that by lanes are even worse, as every human contemplates his parking there fearing a cop.  Often being rejected by every shop owner they are pushed to the end of the street to park their four wheeler.  My ears already half deaf with horns continuously blaring  exceeding the tolerable decibels, I think that I have every right to walk across the road, as it seemed to have no reprieve to it's unending stream of vehicles, after all I cannot wait ages to reach my destination you know !

For millions who can not find a better home than this sprawling road to live and as well to defecate, government is heartlessly planting trees  below flyovers so that they will not become shelters for many,though  devoid of roof on their head. Shops are no less grabbers. The moment shutters are opened half the shop finds it's way to the roadside with luring ice cream bars, onions, brooms , breads, eggs, chips hanging on our faces. Call a gene, he is present  in front of you in the  form of a shop keeper.Mobile Sim cards, cello pens, detergents, biscuits,hair dye, notebooks, all from A to Z are being sold inside his unassumable  tiny shop. In his  ever expanding maneuvers it always thinks of keeping a xerox machine on the foot path to cater to the people's needs.

 Hotels without parking areas are shut for a day only to reopen on next day with a tiny parking board right inside the hotel.  I wonder how a scooter can really be lifted into the hotel, and how many two wheelers in reality can be accommodated inside . All the officials want is a simple board. A car wallah is not entitled to a tiffin or coffee on roadside restaurant unless he wishes to park his car straight in restaurant's  kitchen.

Many organisations concerned with GREEN  propose t that best way to control the private vehicles is to levy a heavy parking fee almost equivalent to their EMI. With every buyer being deterred from buying a car or scooter of his own, I wonder how one will reach his workplace on time depending on  our fleet of erratic buses. One needs to practice hanging to the trees if he prefers to go by buses  "Horns be banned from the streets" suddenly policy makers gone conscious of sound pollution , but the problem lies in driving people  out of the way without blowing a horn. Perhaps every one should be equipped with a stick  to scatter the crowds on his way stopping in between. Loud Barats, dances on the streets, bhajans and prayers with acoustic amplifiers are rarely considered as potential dangers to your ear but this horn evidently  does all the evil on earth. 

Gandhi went around India to understand it before he takes a plunge into serious Indian politics, now to understand India we don't have to travel all the way to distant places. Take a few minutes walk on the main road. You will understand India better.

Adam's ale

Sometimes life's smallest things teach us biggest lessons. Other day when my taps suddenly stopped delivering water I felt my world is crashing down. When I entered my new flat what  flattered me most was twenty four hours uninterrupted water supply. It was  a new flat. So at least for some years to come I  should not have water problem. Supporting my belief our bore well faithfully served us for two years relentlessly. I was happy to keep only one bucket in each  bath room and feeling proud of my bathroom's   enviable size without realizing what made them look so big. It was their minimal accessories and containers which made them look so big. For me  it was always heaven to have running water round the clock. 

It happened when I  hardly had  one bucket full of water at home. I turned my tap to take bath. My tap began making strange sounds but was  never ready to release a drop of water. It took some time for me to realize that either my tank was empty or bore well stopped functioning. Fuming for not being able to take bath I came out and  my afterwards  inquiry  revealed that worst has happened. My bore well does not have enough water to serve all the 16 apartments. There began my woes. Urgent meeting called by our flat owner's association secretary finally concluded that since there is no enough underground  water available  they have no alternative but to cut the water supply to few hours.  Few hours ! I had my first disappointment looking at the minutes book. That means I had to  finish all my water related work within those supply  hours and store some water for dry hours. Reluctantly I signed.

What is water related work ? On pondering over for sometime,  things became clear to me .  Every domestic chore  is almost water related. Without water supply   practically there is hardly any work that can be done at home.  For  washing  clothes, cleaning  utensils, moping the floors, cleaning the bathrooms to do every damn thing water is the major determinant. I have to  reschedule my work according to the water availability and accordingly call my servant whose availability on those hours is a matter of doubt.

Next day I was expecting few hours of water supply as promised. It was a shocker. Few hours promised supply lasted for few minutes. "What we can do ? since underground water level is  low  the pump is  incapable of drawing more water " that was the answer I got. It was a earth shaking  in the first instance. Secondly I don't have so many containers to fill the water for the day's use. Even if have there is no guarantee that supply will last till fill all my containers. Will that quantity sufficient for my usage ? Suppose it is not how long I can post pone my work? Tankers..availability of tankers..their expenses at one point I thought if I  should change my house.  I know is not so easy. Few minutes water comes and few containers are filled and  couple of hours later  I am left with no water. My world went upside down. Never in my life I thought I would be spending half my productive hours thinking about water. I was desperate. 

What best solution I can think of in the present situation ? I stormed  my brain to find the answer. It struck me that I  don't have enough big  containers. I can resolve this problem by buying few more tubs or buckets to fill water. Immediately  thought put into action  bathrooms were crowded with all types of containers, buckets, tubs etc..etc..making them awkwardly cramped. 

All said and  done it is not like having 24 hours water supply. Dip some tumbler to wash your hand , pour some water  to clean some thing, it involves some labour and succeeded by lazy  reluctance. Water need to be used cautiously.  Days are spinning with great difficulty. Water shortage began to stay as a routine matter at home. Day by day  to my surprise I started  finding  all the containers filled with water by me  remained  like as they were. I noticed  that I began to consume only 50% of what I was consuming  before. No more pouring water on hand with a tumbler a drudgery rather a means to use water only as much as you want.  Strangely I also started realizing the value of water. It is so precious. I should spend it as carefully as I spend money. It is high time that we realize that water is  invaluable and one day it may become dearer than money. It has to be conserved and spent discreetly.

"Madam, suddenly our bore well restored it's 100%  water output and is  giving more water. So 24 hours supply restored" our  watchmen knocked the door and  told me. I should be jumping with joy. But I was not .  Actually the announcement did not send me to raptures. It hardly made any difference. I am going to spend water  as frugally as I was doing during my limited supply days. Now I know the value of each drop of water. This is the biggest lesson I have learned from the simplest experience of life.

"Can you revert back to limited hours supply" I was the only one in the meeting who proposed as above in the midst of of all  with raised eye  brows. 
   

City of Miracles - Kashipuri

The three hours drive from Allahabad to Varanasi went on very well. It was  smooth and entertaining. That is the biggest advantage of travelling in a group. Roads we passed though not great did not give much trouble. I must say over all the highways in all the plains of the country seem to have improved, one indicator  of clear development, a large scale development,  one sigh of relief. 

As we  were getting closer to Varanasi the traffic began to move at snails pace.  Half of it's  narrow roads are  occupied by heavy vehicles waiting to get their clearance through the city,  may be  during night. The day traffic was horrendous with all types of vehicles trying to push themselves in the midst of  terrible  congestion. The roads were really in bad shape, and dust rises ten  feet above the ground making visibility poor and nostrils choked. Despite being caught in unawares drivers do not hesitate to speed their vehicles and every vehicle till the last minute appeard like rushing towards  us with an intention to crush us down. First time in my life I felt I was  doing a dangerous travel. 

We reached our heritage hotel booked by my nephew much in advance. Till  that  point there was a lingering doubt in my mind if we could get  hotel accommodation   despite reservation given the overcrowding situation. Tales of extracting rentals of  Rs 50000/- per day were going around. Our people are experts in exploiting any scarcity.But nothing of such sorts happened.  

Hotel seemed alright. It had beautiful elevation, good lawns, good dining hall and bad rooms. We decided to fresh up and proceed either for Darshan of Lord Vishveswara of Kashi  or Ganga Arti. Again we were on our sojourn in search of  divinity. After few kilometers of a precarious  jolly ride by autos trying to dash every vehicle coming in the opposite direction we were stopped by the police barricades at some point. With past experience at Allahabad hinting back We could understand we will not be allowed to go by an automobile any further.  How far is the temple? "Just Ded (2.5) kilometers" " Three Kilometers" " Adha Gante ka rasta" The answers being so perplexing  half of us went out of spirits given previous day walking experience  in Kumbh Mela. Roads are choked with people. We could find many foreign tourists on these roads closer to the temple as well in our hotel. I guess some times we have to assess the greatness of the place with presence o number of foreign tourists. They do  ample research before they set on a tour, and ridiculously we think we  can get instant information. So depend  on  a Rikshaw till you are stopped  and believe in strength of your legs. Finally we found  serpentine Q measuring few   kilometers  for Darshan. It was made  clear to us that   we can not make it before the temple is closed. We are left with one choice.  Watch "Ganga Arti".

We were in ghats after walking another kilometer. Arrangements are being made for Arti at Daswamedha ghat. Tired, mutilated,  each each knee deep  step of the ghat looked like deep hell for me. Opposite to the arti podium there sat few thousands.. may be lakhs ... or even crores... people are seen in clusters, groups, crowds  sitting in ghats and some who can afford boats boarding them,  to watch this programme invented by some organization facilitating throwing more garbage into already  precariously polluted waters of Ganges. " Ma Ganga.. you are so sacred.. so pure.. so take this trash.." It looked so paradoxical. Finally our people got me into a boat so that I can watch the programme conveniently.  I see so many foreigners in boats trying to take glimpse of this programme with their camcorders and cameras on. The porogramme began in half an hour and half dozen young boys in   attires similar to dance costumes came to the stage and did many rituals like lighting lamps,offering  dhup, agarbathi with choreographed moves. It was long enough and I dreaded  alighting the boat. safety seemed a question. Stampede...that was working back of my mind. One wrong move is  enough  to throw all the people to risk.  It is god's will whether he wants us to be alive or not. These millions dangerously dangling to  boat roofs, edges  and standing on feet in  shaky boats..standing on slippery ghats ... all are going to survive if alone god wills .  Arti was over. Every body started disappearing  and  in half an hour most of the crowd vanished.No stampede.. no boat turned upside down.. not a scream... I think there are few or many more or even much more who cared for their lives sitting in boats or standing ghats more than I do,  yet came to witness that Arti with hopes of life swaying in air.  Some impending dangers, unfold misery and mishap  some where from dark corners waiting might have threatened them too. But all of them came as  huge sea of humanity and  forgot who they are, whether it is important for them to be alive. The moment was precious..little adventure.. little penance.. little thrill.. great devotion..and much more trust on God..and not believing in their  personal abilities to protect them selves..but  trusting  gods' ability in securing them..subdued and sober  acceptance to his judgement..which can swig  either way..is the miracle NO 1.

As we could not make it to  Darshan on that day we wanted to go early in the morning to take Darshan. Next day we reached the place  by 6.45 approximately expecting to cover the eyes of  Police. But police  woke up before us and did not hesitate to put up  barricades,  to our luck at a closer point to the temple.  Again walking for a kilometer or so, we found our Q. As the roads are narrow the Q is formed only next to the gutter. Each shop keeper was  pouring water in front of his shops sweeping all the left overs, plastic glasses and plates into the gutter went  satisfied that his shop is clean. We Indians are very clean at the personal level but at social lever I think we are one of the dirtiest. No body knows whether we can carry cell phone, hand bag, or slippers, or if so to what distance,or  who will take care of them. As we are getting closer to the temple new new faces appeared  in the midst of the line. God knows when they squeezed into the line. Even police could not control them. It  got  very clear that no arrangement have been made for keeping shoes and hand bags. Then all of us began leaving them at some roadside shop knowing fully well that we will have difficulty in identifying shops. All who wore old shoes are in chuckles and who wore new shoes are in worries. We  began to identify more more native voices from our state. Thankfully tourism has increased in our native state of Andhra pradesh and people carry both plus and negative points along with them. Like seasoned artists many entered the line without much effort. We kept fighting with them till such time where we need to ignore them. We began ignoring them.

 As we were  getting closer to the temple a solemn mood possessed me . The security checks became more frequent and more police personnel were present.  My eyes were getting moist with devotion . It was my long  cherished desire to visit Kashi and  Lord Vishwesvara. The place every Hindu revered in his heart, a place he wants to visit at least once before he dies, a place that stood unshaken for centuries, a place that was never been a target for vandalism,  a place said to be existing from Satyayuga, a lone  place that is believed to be floating even during dooms day (Pralaya), the Linga which  is never taller than one foot, a lord whom any body can touch and worship, a place where poor and rich are treated equally...it is the  Lord Viswanadh I am going to see and worship. The crowd was too big that  we do not exactly remember where from we have entered the shrine. Right in front of me there was Lord Vishwesvara! Am I seeing him ?  or am I dreaming ? Whom to ask? Who will reply ?  Will they give me time to do all this worshiping . I poured my glass of milk and Bilwa leaves  on Lord's head. You are being  asked  to move immediately to make way for others. There was  not much of decorations for Shiva. You don't take so much time to see this god. One good glace is enough to fill your heart. It is simple Shiv Ling. I was pushed out. But I was happy. We traveled 1600 kilometers, walked approximately 7 kilometers, spent about four hours in Q to have this wonderful glimpse of 10 seconds !! Yet it is very fulfilling. My soul rejoiced looking at him. You forget all your vows the moment you see the fruit of all your effort,   the Lord. It is worth while. This is  miracle No 2.

On the way back we wanted to collect our cell phones and slippers and unmistakably we could find the shop. I wanted to purchase some thing from the shop but the shop keeper was not interested in selling but was interested rendering service to the people like us without expecting a rupee. This is miracle No 3. 

Half members of our group left for their resident   places as planned earlier. We were  only three left in our group. Evening we planned to see some local temples.  We had been to Sankat Mochan Hanuman temple where there was terrorist attack couple of years ago.. No body even seem to remember the incident. The temple was going in full swing. As usual many men and women are into performing their pujas and vratas. Life has to go on. Every thing looked normal and as if nothing has happened ever. India wipes it's wounds quicker than any body in this world. Where from they get this strength ? This  is miracle No 4.

We had been to few more temples like Tulasi Manas temple where Tulasi das wrote his Tulsi Ramayan, Durga mata Temple.  There are hundreds of  temples in Varanashi , the master being Bholenath (Shiva) temple. No temple is short of it's own  magical appeal.

Next day we planned to visit  Saranath and Vyasa Kashi in Rampur. Just 12 kilometers away from the cradle of Hindu faith there flourished and exists  completely different faith with so many foreign Buddhist visitors adorning it , and they have their  own Monasteries. While visiting  remains of Saranath we could see at least four  Budhist groups  belonging to different countries offering prayers  loudly chanting their prayers. After being hunted  by a boy to buy few Buddha tiny sculptures, while returning  I stopped and surprised to see that  young Hindu Boy who sold statue to me playfully jumping and reciting the whole text of Buddhist prayer so rhythmically as they are  being done by these foreign tourists. What a country ! It can embrace any number of faiths and still walk   with eternal Majesty  without loosing it's own identity. This is  miracle No 5.

Vyas Kashi is not a  different place but part of a Ramnagar  fort where vyas is believed to have taken penance and his temple exists there. Ranagar is seat of king of Banaras and every year Ramleela celebrations take place there.

Kashi or Banaras or varanasi is known for it's ghats and we allotted a complete evening for visiting ghats and taking a dip in Ganges, of course little hesitation because almost every where in Banaras ghats the water does seem to be highly polluted. We reached ghats this time quite comfortably since Kumbh Mela  crowds are dwindling. We engaged a boat and reached the other side of the Ganges. Unfortunately even other side water doesn't seem clean, yet we took a dip in Ganga and got into the boat.There are about 40 ghats in Banaras.  Each ghat is privately owned and as explained by boatman many ghats were constructed by wrest while Rajas and Maharajas and we can even find Harschandra Ghat and Veerabahu ghat and it is believed that their heirs still own them. On the banks of  one ghat we find Bismillah Khan's three storied building where he lived with his hundreds of grand and great grand children. Bismillah Khan was believed to have been offered a permanant resident ship  by a foreign country and he refused part with   Lord Vishweswar temple and river  Ganges. Having been satisfied with liberal tips, boatman began explaining ghat after ghat and  their significance with doubled enthusiasm. Initially the city of Banaras was built on ghats of Ganga. There stood the Lord Viswanath as a focal point. It is him who attracted every one to the city of Banaras and every ruler worth their salt either spent their time there or built some thing there.  The boatman was showing us Manikarnika Ghat where few human bodies are being burnt simultaneously on the banks of  Ganges.  The very next ghat mini restaurant is being sighted. Not very far from Manikarnika  we hear auspicious sounds of Shehnai indicating some function. Every incident or occasion looks to be running in the same latitude. . A  drop of tear rolling down from one eye  is being compensated by the flash of  gleam from one eye. Some body's bewailing  is followed by roars of laughter. For a regular Kashipura vasi it is no strange. Equanimity is what Kashi is purportedly be  teaching us. The city belongs to  Shiva the Lord of destruction and death   (Laya Karaka) who is supposed to be giving all auspicious things to people. Take the death as part of life  as you are  abandoning old cloths.  Joy and sorrow live side by side. No other city in the world takes death in such an equitable  manner. No other city people are so fear less. No other city people bask  in spirituality as in Kashipuri. This is  miracle No 6. 

We embarked on our journey in the narrow lanes of Banaras in search of one choultry as my sister wanted to contribute some money to it. old city of Banaras consists of incredibly narrow lanes and there co exist animals and humans. Still these lanes bustle with activity and trade. The lanes are hard to pass by on busy days still manage to accommodate motorbikes and some times autos.  Despite of  highly commercial modern Varanasi with good number of shops, hotels,and  commerce  it's  ancient and antique Old Banaras  is what makes real Kashi. It is hard to breathe in those narrow by lanes but hung Rudraskha Malas, Ganga water containers, Shiva pictures, Puja related articles, the smell of flowers, breath of  spirituality is what  pumps oxygen into the atmosphere. Either on land or water many many men in Varanasi  live taking the name of God or his related trade. For that matter entire city of Banaras lives in the name of Lord Shiva. Hindu, Muslim  communities live in incredible harmony and coexist in peace. Finally we could locate  "Karivena Satram" where mysister wanted to make some donations. While my sister was busy paying money at the counter  I sat in one corner and wondering at the number of people of my own state  I get to see in such a far away land. My  imagined loneliness makes no sense  and I felt I am participating in the world. 

Next day before leaving we wanted to have our final Darshan of Lord Visweswara for the last time in the trip. We got up early in the morning and paid visit to Lord Bholenath. This time we found no Ques. We were allowed directly into  into the temple. It is 6 o' O clock in the morning. Police in the temple  were seen  reciting their morning prayers. We could get an easy Darshan.We came out of the temple and completed  darshan of Annapurna devi too. With this I could complete my Kashi yatra. Inexplicable joy and satisfaction filled our  hearts and we were in triumphant mood. While walking back I could see around me,  old,  middle aged destitute, deserted,and spiritually inclined who wanted to pay a visit and many more of them who  chose their final destination as Kashi. Could it be my destination too ? A thought  which never struck before any time in my life flashed in my mind. This is  miracle No 7.

Prologue to epic journey

I begin my Kashi yatra description with a fond reminisce of city of  Bombay. Kashi and Bombay being poles apart it might look  highly  inappropriate at the outset but I  rightfully owe my gratitude in the first place  to my sweet  niece who made my Bombay  trip both  possible and memorable before I set my foot on journey to Varanasi. 

  "Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive but to be young was very heaven."....  that was 34 years ago when my dirty hotel room,common toilet,  crowded cinema hall, long bus and train journey, any of them  did not matter. Bombay was an  exiting place. It's  beautiful mermaid like guides draped in their 70s style sarees showing  the passing by buildings and explaining what they are, really did not matter. I was in a luxury air conditioned bus passing through beautiful  marine drive, enough to blast with excitement . I was happy to be with my husband, and happy to be in  Bombay with him  still enjoying the newly wed tag even after one year of marriage. I have seen good portion it. But it was only supplementary to my inner joy of making trip with my husband. 

 I think my recent   Bombay  visit was actually fructified  only because of my  niece who was with me throughout and   helped me  to visualize essential  elements that make the most advanced city  in India i.e  Bombay now  Mumbai after 34 years . I am sure that I have covered most of the  the important places this time  and saw  magnificent colonial structures there in. I also  had a glimpse of  peaceful and dignified Naval area which came as a bonus .  As a routine I was expecting Mumbai   to get  much worse than before, but surprisingly  as if the time has frozen Mumbai emerges as reality that never degenerates despite  it's ever expanding  commerce, longer   commutation, housing vows it looks the same with it's outrageous  undercurrent energy and thirst  for life. With ever present sea by your side it spells  bewitching calmness besides hustle bustle. For a Bombait a European city has few new  things to offer. It's affordable services make it more livable and likable.  I do not understand why  every other city looks better than Hyderabad in terms of traffic. Bombay traffic is way  ahead organized  in comparison to my own Hyderabad's  where in I fret and fume going out any day of the year except during  Dussera where half the Hyderabad is emptied  due to exodus to villages and towns. Mumbai is a magic, where every minute  coins are churned and thrown at a distance while you can grab as many as fast you run. It is no place for laid backs, lazies, gossipers. It is fast action movie where reason ends and action thrills.  

Now coming to Kashi  it was actually intended to be undertaken as a single trip but impending Kumbh Mela at Allahabad prompted us to club both the journeys in one stretch. With mixed up  plans, finally all of us like me my husband' my sister, her son  decided to undertake the journey only by train so as to reach Allahabad on Maha Shivrathri day, take a dip and proceed to Varanasi. 

Why I wanted to see Varanasi ? Because  at least once in a lifetime every Hindu wants to pay visit to Kashi. My husband had  already given description of Kashi and  how his high image  of Kashi has been tarnished by it's narrow by lanes lacking  hygiene and stray cows. In fact even I did not have high expectations about the place knowing fully well that it is being visited by hundreds of thousands each year. But some things tells me I will not be disappointed. Sure I was not expecting a Disney land there. 

Our train journey took 30 hours to reach city of Allahabad stopping at  each unimportant place whether a thing called station existed or not. Where ever a station existed we could see people  frantically running around with loads on their heads or shoulders at the sight of train and  swarming around bogies.But  luckily no body dashed into the reserved compartment to displace us. This all began in Uttar Pradesh. Where all these people suddenly come ? No station before had so many trying to catch a train. May be it is excess population or lack of proper transportation that diminutives them so.

 Again fortunately our destination Allahabad station was manageable with less crowd than expected that came  as a pleasant surprise.  Not long ago the same station witnessed stampede and few deaths. Straight to the hotel on a hard attained taxi, on the way we observed that many roads to the Triveni Sangam ghats are closed for  the automobiles. Then unaware of impending troubles we refreshed and sat in a rikshaw to proceed to ghats  since no other vehicle is allowed on these roads. After few furlongs even the rikshas were stopped we were forced  to set on foot. The roads are quite wide and clear of hawkers and roadside encroaching  shops, and bad part is they are   devoid of trees.Roads are brimming  with people young as well old  briskly walking towards ghats. We found people from far away places like Rajasthan, MP, Bihar too.  Poverty was clearly visible on local  faces. They looked  exhausted and were  suffering with malnutrition.This is how  India is living even to day not very different from few hundreds years ago. Still people are close to earth. Dressing was very basic and rural in style.Not much in tune with urban etiquette their replies sound rude. Many times they simply nod and don't speak because their moths are filled with chewing tobacco. Yet beyond all this we find some pride in their eyes. Where this pride comes from?  I could not quite understand. Apparently in this part of the country  cities, towns and people are left to their fate and allowed to flourish or perish at their will.  The only reminder of some government's existence   is  police presence  and displayed banners with their leaders' faces  not less than criminal looking. Smiles of  piles of  crores peek through their  twirling mustache .  

With long long walks, intervening small time rikshaw rides we ended up paying quite some  money to these transporters. In over enthusiasm to control vehicles and vendors organizers forgot basic necessities like availability of water or shelter to the pilgrims and we had to run  pillar to post to buy a bottle of drinking water. The thoughtlessness of organizers is much evidenced by their lack of any transport to the old. Old were walking with sticks gasping for breath, some old were dragged to the ghats by their kith and kin to earn  their last minute "Punya" before kicking their buckets .High  blown mikes with continuous announcements mute your speech and the next man's voice was hardly audible. Our phones rendered useless .You could never take a  phone call in that high decibel announcements . It is just very close to chaos. We were praising our Lords  for sending less number of  people on that auspicious day other wise it would have been just  chaos and anarchy. Once you miss a person, there is highly probability of missing him for the day or even for ever. We reached ghats with some disappointment as we could not find  any boat on the shores, and on that particular shore boats are not available and none of us are left with energies to find another ghat with boats  walking many  more  kilometers. We took bath in Ganges or Triveni and few dips  rejuvenated all of us. As there are no changing rooms in sight we resorted to undressing and dressing on the same ghats and surprisingly no body ever had any curiosity to look what others are doing. This where all our spirituality teaches us many things. We did not bother how we looked and how we dressed. The tradition  teaches us equality by not preaching just by creating a situation . We were not paranoid about the water. The moment we took a dip we forgot how dirty or dusty it was.What happened to your healthy water, healthy food, healthy atmosphere obsessions? It is just survival instinct that leads us i n such situations. It is invisible  noble purpose that leads us in such situation not our random personal choices. We are no different from another human being. I am same as  that rustic, old  man wearing  a turban  who has never  moved out of his small village in his life time when it comes to the basal instincts. Both of us came to the lap of Mother Ganges with single purpose. He rightfully claims his right to equality. 

Next day we visited Anad Bhavan . Initially  we thought we  cannot make it and later changed our minds.  Sprawling  Anad Bhavan was magnificent . Really we would have missed a great deal by not visiting it. Motilal Nehru, Jawahar Lal Nehru might be irrelevant to the nation now but not to UPans . They are fondly calling him "Panditji". Their  life styles were akin to Lords of England in those days.They were living indulgent life styles.  It is fascinating to notice that they maintained beautiful libraries.  Patriotism was the key factor which led them to dedicate  their riches to the nation. Present  day leaders squeeze their riches from nation. Indira Gandhi a lone child stayed in another magnificent building attached to Anand Bhavan. Anand Bhavan is thriving with numerous visitors each day. As I already said  Allahabad broad  roads and Anand Bhavan are two positive aspects  noticed by us during our first leg of journey. 

Don't go away the real journey begins now.     

Darji

It is a piece of paper. I would not have cared about this if it is just a piece of paper. This is a paper on which my unlettered tailor has scribbled some thing  decipherable only to himself. What i could make out from that is he has received my 13 blouses given for stitching with a unwritten promise  to deliver them back to me after completion of  aforesaid work. He was good with  numerals and clearly mentioned that i need to pay Rs. 2050 at the time of delivery. I began preserving this  piece of paper with utmost care at par with  my immovable property documents. I know a minute negligence will land me in trouble. I am most likely to forget to collect my blouses, and even if remember by remote chance  I find it terribly difficult to identify them in  big heap of furled bundles of unstitched clothes in his petty shop.

I received a phone call from the tailor few days after I have sent my blouses with model blouse through my servant maid, that he needed to see  me urgently to carry out any alterations. He always had the technique of stitching the blouse looking at the person without taking any measurements and he takes pride in that.  Hence he needs to see me once to check whether I gained any weight or become anorexic. Therefore I made myself available to him one evening. Having satisfied with my present physical  condition he promised to stitch and deliver all of  them after 25 days as it was marriage season. I had to carefully tuck the yellow  piece of paper given by him in my wallet along with cash and credit cards. After few days after finding  this yellow piece of paper getting crumpled every time I take my currency out I  changed it's place to my cupboard. 

I would have totally forgotten them had he not telephoned me one fine evening that the cloth  which I gave for stitching blouses  was not sufficient and  seemingly either by ignorance or intelligence I tried to save money  by buying insufficient  cloth. I had to search for my  yellow piece of paper given by him to prove that he has wasted so much time in deciding about the shortfall, and to  testify my trust reposed in his ability to somehow manage with any length of  cloth given to him. I wanted to explain to him  since the cloth was  cut from "Tans" they cannot be returned back to the shop keeper. I had to fathom my cupboard to find that  yellow piece of paper and I am sure I need couple of hours to set my cupboards right  since nothing seems to be in place now.

As it was very late in the evening and i was  supposed to meet the tailor only  the next day.Next day morning  I became too freaky when I saw my servant maid  sweeping an yellow piece of paper under the misconception that it is my tailor receipt, and her not discriminating between  valuable papers and trash.  But  it wasn't my tailor receipt. Then where did i keep it? I checked  my bedroom, dressing table, drawing room. Finally I found it under my spectacles on the fridge. Good god. I should not keep it here. Any time i might lift my spectacles and paper  takes no time reaching the dustbin. It was removed from there. 

"Madam, what shall I do with blouses?" again he telephones. I tried to convince him  "Can you some thing about them? any invisible joint? or different cloth as  front belt?" " I will try with a lining cloth. But you have to pay me more.  Come and collect them day after"he told me.

Mean while where did keep the receipt ? Again my hunt begins. This time I was not so lucky. It remained elusive.

"Sorry Madhu, I lost your receipt" I had to explain the situation to the tailor.
 " No problem madam, all blouses  are  hung to the hangers here. How many did you give ? Can you identify colours" 
 "Of course... I think so ....Not sure... Are they mine ?  I gave  13 of them" 

Finally I got all of them.  I am glad he finished the task after 25 days and glitches . He neatly packed all of them and  promptly collected the money after handing over.

Eagerly I opened the packet to try my blouses. One was enough to tell me that I miserably failed in my attempt to get them stitched. The bloses are one size smaller than mine and all 13 are going to sit inone corner of  my cupboard eagerly waiting for a day when I loose my weight and proudly to be  displayed  to the world. For now they are of no use to me or perhaps never.

"Is this your tailor bill? I found it in my  Bhagavadgita" my husband asked me with a twinkle in his eyes with   elation.
 "Throw it in the dustbin" I said coolly. The piece of paper which was  preserved like a precious thing till  yesterday is nothing for me  to day. Humans,  relations, fame,youth,  every thing has a life span in this transient world and any thing past it's  lifespan or which has lost it's relevance  is nothing but a piece of scrap from the very next moment .  May be this is what Gita intends to preach me.

A Call

I want to finish this  because I started it better. Did not feel like deleting this post  since  I have spent the whole one year without penning any thin g worth while engrossed in social networking forgetting my inner space and it's stirring. While beginning to write  strangely I had a   feeling i have a problem with punctuation. why there is a  capital letter  at the beginning of each  sentence? Can't I  use small" i" for first person ? i thought  "i" was very big even bigger than the world when actually i was very tiny . As the years passed on I realized my "I" is actually very small.  I found the bigger truth that I am nothing but a small iota in this cosmos.   All the happenings look like stage plays and characters out playing their roles tearing their chests to prove a point ... the points  our ancestors  have fought for for million times with no distinct  outcome and laid  dead some where in their graves. Why this  chest tearing won't fructify ? For a simple reason that interests are clashing. Yet somebody interferes  with fingers pointing towards some scriptures. Still battles are fought . All goes into destruction. Empires ,nations, built over years sweating are trampled and crushed. Interestingly neither of them survive eternally to celebrate their triumphs. An aftermath  excursion shows  graves gathering  dust and dry leaves,  and ashes and bones  thrown to Panchbhutas, tomb stones broken by vandals.  Yet we all feel we have points to prove and fight . 

Look at what Vishwaroopam did to the governments and film fraternity. In some quarter or other  we find some protest or  detest regarding some novel, movie or a comment. Clearly  we are  turning too intolerant. Fighting is practiced as art of life.  Years ago only social cause was held high  now contrary personal causes and objections sit  on top and social cause or justice went into oblivion.  Should we treat these trends as change in society or is it peculiar to our society?  

All that begins well should end well. Again I am caught up with false ideals and false values and false conclusions. Many things that began well ended horribly. Lot many things that began shabbily took beautiful shape in the end. We are caught up tightly in our belief systems. Beliefs cause grief and elation.  Can anyone survive without a belief? Yes one can with a thought  that their soul is pure and unhitched by the needless weight of preconceived notions. Is this not a belief ?  No it is dexterity and sojourn to the site of absoluteness.