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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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Myself Rakesh. Rakesh of Mhow. My school friend Captain Ramesh Iyer of Gurkha Regiment doing Junior Command course at Army War College and he say you speak about Mhow and I will tape record. I say my English not good. He say no matter you speak. He say that he like to remember Mhow when he go fight terrorist in Kashmir. He say he want to hear my voice when he return tired after fighting jehadi. I salute him. He very brave. So I speak, but no prepare ok? What you say extempore speech. Ya? He give me two large pag of whisky. So my tongue is now looje. Not difficult to ishpeak.
I 28 year old. 29 running. Last week my happy birthday. I belong Mhow of Indore district of Madhya Pradesh state of India. Mhow wurld famoush military town. British make it Military Headquarter Of War. M-H-O-W. But some people say that not how the name come. Some people say it come from mahua tree. I do not know hundred percent. India government make new name of Mhow as Dr. Ambedkar Nagar. Dr Ambedkar he born in Mhow. His father Subedar Major in Mahar Regiment. They live near Kali Paltan Infantry School where they build big Buddha stupa now. He very genius, write Constitution of India. He help Dalit people lot. Many people do not like name Dr. Ambedkar Nagar. They say it too long name. Mhow short and sweet. I feel they not like Dalit that is why they say like this. We still say Mhow in daily talk.
Mhow part of Malwa pathar. What they say plateau. People go from Mhow to Badgonda village and then Chotta Jam Darwaza and down Malwa till they reach Nimar. Nimar where Naramda flow. Narmda Maiya - like mother. I go Omkareshwar on Shiv Ratri to pray at Jyotirlinga temple.
I study high school from English medium Rajeshwar Vidyalaya. It also called Sacred Heart Convent School. Now more than hundred years old. But I do primary school from Government Higher Secondary School at Hari Phatak. Hari Phatak mean Krishna’s Gate but bus conductor for joke also call it Haridwar. Dwar is means gate so everyone laugh. I want become army afsar but my English weak. I send my son to good private school in Mhow run by army afsar family. My son he learn fast-fast English. Very necessary my friend Ramesh say.
My Dadaji who was job with Infantry School say English Army in Mhow before 1857 fighting. Dadaji hear stories from his Dadaji. His dadaji mean my father father father father. I say in Hindi to my friend ‘Baap ka baap ka baap ka baap’. When I small I say this very fast and we laugh. You try say same fast.
1857 fighting very danger. Many gora log killed. There is big neem tree in Indore near MY Hospital where Angrez log hang Indian soldier and fighter. There is many grave of Angrez killed by Hindustani soldier in Mhow Christian graveyard. When I small I go quietly and see and read name on stone. When you go Agra Bombay road 25 km from Mhow on way to Bombay is small village called Manpur. After Manpur is ghat and road very danger. Many time truck, bus and car go ulta pulta and people die. In Manpur there is Sitlamata temple. The temple in a gufa. What we say cave. This cave where big gora sahib from Indore hide from India fighters. Bhil tribal log hide him. Bhil log know how to hide. Bhil hide Rana Pratap from Mughal Akbar Badshah for twenty, twenty five years. Even now there is marbal stone with name of Sahib and Bhil who hide him. They get big prize from angrez after defeat of India fighters.
Myself service factory job in Pithampur. Pithampur big industrial town not far from Mhow. They call Detroit of Asia. But many job taken by Bihari and South Indian. Madrasi log very educated. Mhow people very lazy. Life easy in Mhow na. Good climate. Like hill istation. Evening of Malwa area very pleasant. They call Shab-E-Malwa. Like morning of Awadh also very pleasant. Vegetable and fruit here very cheap. Tailor also. Good clothes buying and stitching very cheap. Angrez log they train besht tailor in Mhow . But now ready made spoil market of Mhow tailor. But shtill tailor business go well. Many Army afsar get suit stitch from Mhow. Suit and pant shirt. And their wife get salwar kameez and nightie. Very cheap. Smocking for ladiej and baby log. Bedsheet from Hukumchand Mill. Once famoush tailor master of Mhow rush to Delhi to stitch suit of Army Chief. Whole Mhow so proud.
Mhow sweet very famoush. Sweet shop always full of Army afsar. Smart dress and speak in english with wife and children and eat mithai. Very tashty mithai. But I besht like drink cut tea from Malwa Market tea shop. Sometimes eat samosa and kachori. Hot poha very nice and testy. With jalebi. “Round and round and round and stop”. That how angrez ask shopkeeper for jalebi. Also like hot bun butter from Babu Hotel in Main Street.
Mhow boot and shoej also very famoush. Now ready made shoej easy available but early days Mhow hand stitch shoe and boot very famoush. When I young I buy ten rupee shoe. Made by car tire and canvas. We call Mhow Star. Like Bata North Star which cost more than hundred rupees.
Mhow very balance town. We have Parsi people. Parsi building in beginning of Mhow main street. All Parsi people very nice. Now very less number. My father say early many gora gora Parsi log. But now very less. Dawoodi Bohra plenty. We call mullahji. Very hardworking. Nice shopkeeper. My many friend from Bohra community. They go Bohra mosque very disciplined manner. I tell my Bohra friend Zafar this look like Bohra Regiment. He laugh loudly and say “Yes , yes. Allah is Supreme Commander”.
We also have Muslim people and Punjabi and Sindhi. Many Marathi people also. Mhow part of Indore no. And Indore is Holkar Maratha Kingdom. Film star Pooja Batra settle here. We very proud. Arrey Sahib, Winston Churchill live in Mhow. But only few month. Mhow people remember. And cricket player Denis Compton also. While World War Two going on. He play cricket for Holkar team in Ranji trophy with Mushtaq Ali and Karnal Nayudu. Capt Shankar Laxman. He play hockey goalkeeper in Olympics. Mukesh Kumar golf Champion is Mhow player. Rajyawardhan Singh Rathore 2004 Olympic shooter silver medal winner also posted Mhow. He Colonel saab.
Many painter artist in Mhow. Many officer buy and hang painting in drawing room and mess and office. You show any world famoush painting they make copy in few days. Even artist confuse which is orignal and which is copy. MF Husain learn paint in Indore. He make crooked crooked line. Bombay people like. Delhi people like. Foreign people like. Lot of money give. But Mhow people not like this. Painting should look like painting na. What this teda meda?
When I young my father younger brother, my chahcha , say you never use bloody or bastard. Both very bad word he say. Once he fight with Army afsar. Army afsar call him bloody. Uncle say he call Army afsar ‘Bloody Bastard”. Afsar very angry. He go red. Shouting loudly. Big crowd collect. My uncle understand he do gadbadi. When afsar shout “What? What did you say?” my uncle say “You bloody, I bastard”. My Uncle say afsar face change. “Yes,” my uncle say, he know he win now and afsar lose. “Yes, you bloody , I bastard”. The afsar laugh and go away. He laugh very hard. Everyone laugh. My uncle also very happy he make everyone laugh so he also laugh. That day nobody of our mohallah forget. How my Uncle make afsar defeat. All people remember. My uncle big kaamedy.
For picnic also Mhow is besht. Patalpani. Big waterfall. But once I shock. I go there on January fusht. Everybody go picnic on January fusht. I see lot of young people there. They drink beer and make lot of noise voise. Some of them take bath under water fall. Some girls also. They take off their cloth. And take bath in bra and pantiej. I really shock. “What you think they take bath nekked?” my friend Dharmen ask me with smile. I know he tease me. I give him slape on shoulder and say shut up. But this all due to TV sheevee. They show too much na. Young people spoil.
Besht thing I like, evening walk of Mhow. Sunday I take bath and start from Infantry School area and walk on Mall Road. It ijh very prestige. Many gentry people taking walk. I walk with Dharmen. We talk in english. Sometimes some afsar smile. It is so nice. Hey, why you signal me stop? I want speak more. You like na? That is why you smile. I glad you listen this in Kashmir and remember me. I glad it make you feel better.
Adjutant’s note to CO 45th Gurkha Rifles: An audio cassette which was found in Captain Ramesh Iyer’s blood stained combat jacket is being sent in a sealed envelope to his parents in Chennai along with his other personal belongings. The subaltern and two riflemen from the battalion who will be accompanying his coffin will also carry his trunks and suitcases.
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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The year was 1943. The train had stopped at a small station. It took time for Captain Joginder Singh, or Jaggi as he was known to his regimental officers, to realise that the train had stopped at the small railway station which was nearest his ancestral village. When he looked out of the window he could see his father’s younger brother and a few cousins waiting for him. As he alighted onto the small platform he saw them running towards him. He was genuinely happy to meet them. His younger cousins were extremely respectful towards him. And his elders were proud of him. They respected him and were proud of him. But nobody loved him as a person.
As they left the station with the tonga driver in tow carrying his luggage he asked his uncle how his father, his father’s eldest brother and their wives and families were. “They are all fine, though it will take some time for them to get over the shock,” was his uncle’s reply. He wasn’t wrong. After all which family can emerge from the trauma and pain of the death of a young twenty eight year old man who was the cynosure of all eyes. Paramjit Singh, Joginder Singh’s cousin, had died in Lahore during police firing. He had taken part in a protest march. And when some troublemakers threw stones at the policemen the District Magistrate who was also there gave the order to fire. Paramjit was struck by a stray bullet on his thigh. He died due to excessive blood loss. The senior Congress leaders of Punjab were shocked by his death. They had earmarked him for higher positions. After all how many well educated young men did one find who did not want a government job and were looking for something meaningful in a political career.
It took a lot of effort on the part of the local leaders to make the authorities release Paramjit’s dead body from the mortuary at the Government Hospital Lahore. According to unconfirmed reports even Jawaharlal Nehru had to personally ring the Governor of Punjab before the authorities at the hospital and the police were made to give the body to the family. Paramjit had been the hope of the family after Joginder. The latter had joined the IMA at Dehra Dun and had been commissioned into the Gurkha Regiment. Not every family had an officer in the Armed Forces. They had all expected Paramjit to appear in the Civil Services exam. But he refused to do so. His relativcs blamed the martyr Bhagat Singh for this. Ever since Paramjit had started reading the words of Bhagat Singh he had changed. He did not want a safe and secure job anymore. But he did not choose the revolutionary path like Bhagat Singh. He chose to be a member of the Indian National Congress. The family was shocked by his decision. He had effectively ruled himself out for government service. His father had visions of his son becoming an IPS officer. But all his hopes turned into dust when Paramjit joined the Congress and was even thrown behind bars for a few days.
”What will people say?” he had asked Paramjit’s mother who was only worried about her son’s safety. They had sent a telegram to Joginder who was posted in Simla at that time. Thanks to his efforts the Commander-in-Chief’s aide de camp had spoken to the aide-de-camp of the Governor of Punjab. Who in turn had relayed the request to the Superintendent of Police in Lahore who had not been able to say no to a request from these high quarters. But Paramjit had refused to leave prison without his fellow Congress mates who had also been arrested with him. Joginder had only contempt for Paramjit and his idealism. He hated the young man for his guts and his conviction. But he brought out this hatred in the form of derision. He painted Paramjit as a parasite on the family who refused to do an honest day’s work. “He is neither good for the fields and nor for an office,” Joginder used to say to his relatives. Most of the relatives agreed with Joginder but they did not share his contempt for Paramjit. They knew that he was an honest and committed freedom fighter.
Joginder had become extremely jealous when his wife Simranjit had expressed praise for his cousin. Paramjit had also understood that he was in the bad books of his cousin. But he did not let this embitter him. He knew that Joginder only cared for promotions and medals. He knew that Joginder would sell his own mother if someone could promise him that he would make it to a Brigadier. And he had neither the time nor the energy to deal with Joginder. And since Joginder came home only for a few weeks every year it was easier to ignore his hatred and provocative statements. Joginder used to exercise extreme caution to ensure that he was never seen with Paramjit at a public place. He knew that if the higher ups were to know that he sympathised with his freedom fighter cousin it would be the end of his military ambitions.
He remembered the case of Captain Sharma who was also from his unit. Captain Sharma had given shelter to his cousin from Kanpur for a few days. His cousin had been a sympathiser and follower of Chandrashekhar Azad. The authorities had discovered this. And Captain Sharma had to work overtime to prove that he was not helping his cousin in any way. But the damage had been done. And the rumour was that Captain Sharma would never attain a high rank. This was confirmed when Captain Sharma’s annual confidential report contained disparaging remarks written by his commanding officer. These remarks had sealed his career.
Paramjit’s funeral was to be conducted the next day. And Joginder decided to spent the evening in a quiet manner at home. As he lay on the cot under the neem tree he thought of how he had helped to keep the Union Jack flying in India. He remembered how he had defended the British Raj when he and his fellow Indian officers had heated discussions on
the merits and demerits of the Raj. He could not understand their admiration of leaders like Tilak, Gokhale and Gandhi. He remembered a particular incident when the police had failed to control a demonstration being conducted by the Congress Party. The District Magistrate had sought help from the Army and Joginder was asked to take a platoon of men with him to quell the trouble. When he reached the spot he realised that the mob was extremely volatile and the violence could escalate. He also realised that this was a golden opportunity for him to please the higher-ups. The District Magistrate was so shaken by this time that he readily signed an order permitting Joginder to order his troops to fire their Lee Enfield rifles into the crowd. When Joginder decided to give his men the order to fire he did it in such a way that it caused maximum damage to the crowd.
The results were horrible. But Joginder was happy. He had succeeded in terrorising the townspeople. “Now nobody will dare oppose the Angrez,” he told his frightened soldiers. Joginder was awarded a medal for this ‘operation’. His rise till the rank of Brigadier seemed fairly certain unless he did something extremely foolish. This was an operation he never spoke about at home. But everybody seemed to know about it. There seemed to be a conspiracy of silence about it. Everybody knew about it and nobody talked about it. It was as if they were scared of what Joginder represented.
Joginder’s philosophy of life centred around generating fear in those he interacted with. That is what he had learnt from the British officers he had served under. And he followed the same philosophy at home also. Everything at home ran like clockwork as per his desires. He did not tolerate any dissent or difference of opinion. His wife and children were scared of him. And, instead of going through the trauma of facing his anger they meekly did whatever he asked them to do. Deep down he knew that what he was doing was wrong. But it was as if he was trapped. The philosophy of violence and controlling others had finished him. He knew this and admitted it to himself. But he also knew that he couldn’t come out of it. He wouldn’t know what to do. He could not understand the love and affection with which people treated Paramjit. Since he was a Congress worker people were scared for him. And there were times when some people avoided him. But nobody loathed him.
The next morning the body was taken to the cremation grounds. Joginder was surprised to see that almost the entire village had turned out for the funeral. Everybody had a kind word or a word of admiration for Paramjit. Men, women and children – they all loved him. Joginder had never seen such a funeral. He had been to many official funerals where the deceased was given a final salute. But these were all spit and polish affairs where people attended because it was like a parade. Nobody thought about the person who had expired. In Paramjit’s case it was as if the village was in a state of shock. Even those who hesitated to talk to him when he was alive realised that they had lost a hero when he died. There was at least one representative from each family. Congress bigwigs from Lahore and Amritsar had also arrived for the funeral. There was no ‘band baja’ as is common to official functions but there was genuine and heartfelt grief.
It was while the funeral pyre was being lit that Joginder saw what he felt was Paramjit’s true form. In a flash he realised that Paramjit was not the coward or opportunist that he had thought him to be. He could see that even if Paramjit wasn’t a statesman in the true sense of the word he was definitely one who tried to uplift himself through his actions. He was, what they call, a true karmayogi. A man of good deeds and good action. In that moment he saw his own puny image. He could see himself as a dwarf who was only worried about how much he could make at the expense of the country and society. The rest of the funeral went by in a haze. Joginder did not remember much of it. But he could remember that he walked back home in deep contemplation. He could see the heights that Paramjit had attained in his short life and he could also see that he was so far from those heights that he may not attain even one-fourth of that in his own lifetime even if he lived to a hundred.
As he lay in bed that night and tried to sleep he asked himself if he could live more meaningfully. But he could see that he had gone too far down the wrong road. ”It is too late,” he told himself, “stopping and reversing the vehicle will be too difficult a task. I wonder whether I can achieve anything.” Till he retired and left the army to go back and settle in his village his colleagues always used to say that it was a changed Joginder who came back to the unit after the funeral of his cousin. His wife and children also felt the same. But Joginder never talked about what happened on that trip to his village.
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Note: In my childhood I remember hearing about an incident in the pre-independence era when an Army officer, an Indian, was particularly harsh with a group of freedom fighters. I had often wondered what kind of a man he could have been. This is an attempt to try and understand the mind of such a person.
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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In this picture you can see a Pied Cuckoo (Clamator Jacobinus अबलक चटक ). A summer visitor from Sri Lanka and South India (where it resides and breeds) to North and North-East India. Like the Koel it lays its eggs in the nests of other birds.
Clicked at Sirpur Lake, Indore on Sunday June 5 2011 while celebrating World Environment Day. The function was conducted by The Nature Volunteers, an Indore based NGO.
A Press Note I sent on behalf of TNV:
A birdwatching camp was conducted at Sirpur Lake by The Nature Volunteers (TNV), Indore on Sunday 5 June to celebrate World Environment Day. TNV is an NGO entrusted with taking care of this lake which attracts many migrant birds from Asia and Europe. The lake comprises an area of 600 acres and the bird list compiled by TNV member Kaustubh Rishi lists as many as 109 species for this area. According to spokesperson and founder member Shri Bhalu Mondhe a large number of people of all age groups and from all walks of life attended the camp. A large number of school children were also present. Besides the local birds the participants also sighted birds like the Pied Cuckoo which flies from Sri Lanka and South India to Indore and nearby areas. Other birds sighted included the Paradise Fly Catcher, Shikra, Pheasant Tailed Jacana, Common Coot, Spot Billed Duck, Lesser Whistling Ducks, Cotton Teal. Many first time visitors said that they were pleasantly surprised to see such a large area in the middle of Indore which attracted so many species of birds. According to a TNV spokesperson various activities are being planned throughout the year for nature lovers in Indore and nearby areas.
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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Dear Friends
Sharing some info on the Landmark and Grey Oak Urban Stories Competition 2011.
This is for your perusal. Please do pass it to friends who love writing.
Regards
Dev
Mhow
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LAST DATE FOR SUBMISSION 15 April 2011
Q: Is there a theme for the short stories?
A: The stories should be set in an URBAN backdrop within India. The plot, characters and the setting needs to be contemporary, relatable and above all FRESH!
Q: Can anyone submit?
A: This is open for Indian nationals only, whether resident in India or outside. Persons of Indian origin can also submit stories. The contest is open to everyone, except employees, owners and the immediate families of employees or the owners of entities who are competition partners – Landmark, Grey Oak Publishers, Helter Skelter, The Tossed Salad, d.ustb.in and Bookchums.
Q: How to send in the entries?
A: Please email this in a .doc (Word 97 – 2003 format) to competition.landmark@greyoak.in before 15 April 2011. Entries submitted after 15 April 2011 will not be evaluated.
Q: What are the submission requirements?
A: Stories must be original unpublished fiction, Font size 11, Arial or Times New Roman, typed and double-spaced, and may not exceed 3,000 words in length. Each author can make no more than two submissions to the competition.
The author’s name should not appear on the header or footer of the submission document, as our entrants are judged anonymously. Each story must be accompanied by a separate cover sheet with the author's name, complete postal address, e-mail address, twitter handle/ Facebook page link (to verify you easily), phone number, the title of the piece, number of submissions being made, and the word count.
Q: Is there any entry fee?
A: No, there is no entry fee for this competition. All the very best!
Q: Does the author have copyright to these stories?
A: Yes, the author holds the copyright, but with the understanding that Grey Oak Publishers has the first right to publish the stories, and would be given an exclusivity on these stories for a period of 2 years. A royalty agreement will be sent to the authors of the short listed stories post the announcement of the shortlist, and the Editorial Department of Grey Oak Publishers will stay in touch to get an agreement on this. Any further discussion on this subject at this stage is immaterial.
Deadline for receiving submissions – 15th April 2011
Longlist of stories for final evaluation by 31 May 2011 and Shortlist of stories that would be published in planned editions of Urban Shots in November 2011 and February 2012 will be communicated by 31 July 2011.
website http://greyoak.in/urban_stories_competition.htm
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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“Have you prepared your points properly?” Ajay remembered Akanksha’s query as he sat waiting for his turn to arrive. The annual open debate was on in the college and both of them were participating. The motion was, “In the opinion of this house Valentine’s Day celebrations are culturally incorrect in India.” Both of them were speaking in favour of the motion. He was one of two participants from the B.Sc third year and she was from the B.Sc first year team. Three of the best speakers would be declared winners irrespective of whether they spoke for the motion or against it. Ajay remembered how he had won the third prize when he was a first year student. He wasn’t as lucky in his second year.
Akanksha was his neighbour’s daughter and they knew each other since childhood. Their parents were friends too. Both sets of parents were very particular about not letting their children getting corrupted by western influences. Ajay had a younger sister, Jayanti, who was a student of class ten and Akanksha was an only child. All three children were encouraged since childhood to read Amar Chitra Katha comics which dealt with stories from Indian history and mythology. Ajay still remembered how angry his father had become when he had seen an Archie comic in his schoolbag, “I will not tear this stupid comic,” his father had said with anger, “because it will mean that you will have to spend my hard earned money to replace this.” The word “this” had been uttered with the utmost of contempt and the comic was allowed to dangle between his index and middle fingers as if he were holding a dead rat by its tail.
Akanksha would frequently visit his house to spend time with Jayanti. Ajay would often sit with them. He liked listening to the girls talking. He could see that his father was not happy with this. He had often seen his mother smile when she had seen him sitting with Jayanti and Akanksha. He liked Akanksha’s no-nonsense attitude towards life. She was always dressed simply. He had never seen her apply any make up. And yet she looked so pretty. He remembered the time when both families had visited Ujjain with a cousin of Akanksha’s from the USA who was visiting India during the winter holidays. They had taken the train from Mhow. And Vinay, Akanksha’s cousin, had clicked scores of pictures using his digital camera. He had sent Ajay a link to his album on Picasa. Ajay had saved many of Akanksha’s pictures on his computer. Late at night, when everyone was asleep, and he was supposed to be working on his college projects, he would open the folder he had created for these pictures and spend a fair amount of time gazing at her photographs.
Akanksha’s parents had often told Ajay’s parents that they wanted her to get married to Nitin who the son of their brother’s neighbour in Indore. Nitin was a brilliant student who had completed his bachelor’s degree in engineering and was on his way to the U.S.A. Ajay had felt very jealous when he had heard this. As a B.Sc student with Zoology, Botany and Chemistry as his subjects he knew that his value in the marriage market was almost nil. He knew that he would stand nowhere in today’s marriage market unless he joined a good post graduate course. It used to worry him no end because he hated competitions. It was for this reason that he had not registered his name for any medical college entrance examinations. He knew that all that had to change now and he hated it.
The debate couldn’t have ended better. He had liked the manner in which Akanksha had presented her thoughts. In a very gentle manner she had demolished all those who had spoken against the motion. Instead of using a hammer and tongs approach she had used gentle wit and humour to defeat them. He had noticed that the Principal and all faculty members were smiling when she was speaking. He had felt proud of her and he could finally acknowledge to himself that he was in love with her. When his turn to speak had arrived he took the microphone with great confidence. Akanksha’s quite voice had done wonders. He was able to keep the audience spellbound with his logic and wit. They had applauded him many times when he was speaking. He was overjoyed when the results were announced. He had won the first prize, Akanksha stood second and another student who had also spoken in favour of the motion stood third. The judges were completely floored by those who had spoken in favour of the motion.
When Akanksha had come up to him and had shaken his hand he had realized that he was trembling. The gentle touch of her soft hand had made his heart accelerate and her smile had almost made him swoon. He could feel his classmate Kishore pinching him as he held Akanksha’s hand. He had stood by the college gates waiting for Akanksha to leave in the college bus. He was thrilled when she had waved goodbye from inside the bus and had smiled at him. He and Kishore had planned to go to the college canteen and celebrate his victory with some tea and samosas.
It was almost dark when he returned home. He could hear loud, angry voices from Akanksha’s house. It was her father. Akanksha’s mother’s voice could also be heard. She seemed to be crying. “Such bad luck,” his mother told him, “that young lad Nitin has fallen in love with some gori American girl and they have got married. Akanksha’s parents are heartbroken and they feel cheated. I feel so sad for them.” Ajay smiled when he heard this. His joy knew no bounds. He knew that this was the best Valentine’s Day present he would ever receive. Even if it were a fortnight before Valentine’s Day.
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Comments
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Posted on
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
9:51:13 AM
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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Posted on
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
9:15:35 AM
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From
Ganesh - R
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Posted on
Monday, February 21, 2011
11:08:45 PM
Modified on
Monday, February 21, 2011
11:09:54 PM
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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Posted on
Monday, February 21, 2011
11:01:12 PM
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From
Nani Manna
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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If my friends were asked about what my passions are most of them would list blogging, photography, nature and writing short fiction. Well, they wouldn’t be wrong but they would be missing the one thing that I am most passionate about. And that is education. When I say education I mean education in the true sense of the word, i.e. learning. To distinguish between the two I will quote two of my favourite graffiti. The first says, “Do not let your education interfere with your learning.” How apt! We have so many educated people in India today but how many of them are men or women of learning? This is where the second graffito enters. It says – “Education kills by degrees.” I remember one of my childhood classmates who obtained a post graduate science degree and joined a bank as a clerk in the early eighties. All he wanted was job security so he took up a job for which the eligibility was a pass in the high school examination. In all these years oI have never heard him discussing a scientific topic. He got all his degrees by analyzing the past question papers. What he really learnt was the art of passing examinations of the university of Indore where he studied. If he had studied in another university he would have studied as per his analysis of the question papers of that university. Some years ago he refused promotion to officer rank because he does not want to get posted out of his home district. Names like Einstein, Bose, Darwin and Goodall make no sense to him. He is only excited by pay slips and dividend warrants. I have purposely chosen him as an example because he epitomizes everything that is wrong with the Indian educational system.
When I left a software career in 1989 and chose to teach and counsel children in a non-commercial manner in the small cantonment town of Mhow I knew I was taking a very tough and risky decision. But I was very clear that I had to do it. Thanks to my upbringing in an Army family money was never the main motivating factor for me. It has always been a medium. Something like a mode of transport. The idea was to use it as a vehicle to go places. I must also thank my parents for giving me valuable support. If they had not permitted me to stay in our house when I came back from Indore where I was living I would never have been able to achieve what I have in these years. The fact that I am a bachelor has also helped. I did not have to worry about refrigerators and perambulators (due apologies to Ogden Nash) and could concentrate on my enrichment oriented activities.
For me true education is all about transformation. Take the case of software icons like Narayana Murthy and Nandan Nilekani. They belong to middle class families where getting a government job was the biggest achievement in life. Today, thanks to the unbelievable amount of hard work they have done, they are able to employ thousands of talented professionals. One can also list the case of thousands of educated Indians who have made their mark in fields as diverse as software, engineering, medicine and academia thanks to their education. The unbelievable story of the Super Thirty group of Patna comes to mind where year after year thirty young students are all able to crack the Joint Entrance Examination (JEE) for selection to the IITs. And the person behind this is Anand Kumar who could not pursue higher studies at Cambridge because of financial problems. A lesser person would have given up and joined the rat race but this man had steel inside him and he has created a beautiful system in which he is able to pull talented children from poor families year after year out of the morass of poverty . Peter Drucker had once quoted the economist Joseph Schumpeter, “… being remembered for books and theories is not enough. One does not make a difference unless it is a difference in the lives of people.” This is what people like Anand Kumar have achieved – making a difference in the lives of people.
I think of the many youngsters whom I have taught and counseled. Many of them are living in the USA and Europe today. These include many youngsters from modest middle and lower-middle class families. They are what they are today because of their education and learning and not because of the bank balance of their parents or guardians. I am glad that I could be a catalyst in their growth. I especially remember the case of a young man whose parents had divorced and he was living a very hard life with his mother and sisters. Today he is well placed in a reputed software firm thanks to his talent and hard work. He had once told me that when he was in high school he would often work as a labourer at construction sites at night when the ceilings of buildings were being made. He chose night time projects so that nobody he knew would see him working. All his hard work and his mother’s prayers have paid off today and he is doing well. Only education could have brought him to this level in the matter of a few years. One must also thank globalization and the opening up of the Indian economy for such cases. I remember seeing many cases in the seventies and eighties where many a young talented person burnt out due to lack of opportunities.
For me true education is all about drawing out the talent from within a person. Most of us are not able to tap the reservoir of talent within us – a good teacher helps us to do this I would like to be remembered as a person who helped many a youngster see and realize his/her potential.
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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Litanies of Dutch Battery by N.S. Madhavan Translated by Rajesh Rajamohan.
Published by: Penguin Books India on 25 Oct 201
Format: Paperback
Extent: 324 pp
Cover Price: Rs 350
Translations of good works written in Indian langauges rarely get the attention they deserve. So when a fellow blogger translates a good book and the translation is also critically acclaimed it is time to celebrate. The reviews and endorsements have been very encouraging. This is what Khushwant Singh has to say about the book in his column with malice towards one and all (Hindustan Times, Dec 19, 2010) :
"In the past I was able to read between 30-40 books every year. This time I could read only 25. But some of them impressed me deeply. On top of my list is N.S. Madhavan's Litanies of Dutch Battery, translated from Malayalam to English by Rajesh Rajamohan (Penguin). It is an outstanding work of historical fiction which tells the story of the inhabitants of the Malabar coast from ancient times to the present; from the caste-ridden Hindu past dividing Namboodris and Ezhera (sic) toddy-tappers to Arab traders who brought Islam with them, built mosques and married local women whose children came to be known as Moplaha. A second influx comprising Portuguese, Dutch and English brought Catholics, Protestants, Anglicans and Syrian Christians. With the increase of means of communication Hindi films and songs of K.L. Sehgal came to Kerala and brought Keralites closer to Northern Indians. After Independence, it became the first State of India to elect a Communist regime, attain 100% literacy. It is a beautiful state, rich in its flora and fauna, inland waterways, which earned it the little of being 'God's own Country'. I only wish its (sic) title of the book was more comprehensible than it is."
More:
‘A remarkable novel. Rarely has Kerala, the crossroads of global cultures and ideologies, been so sensuously and grippingly evoked’ - Pankaj Mishra
'Epic imagination . . . N.S. Madhavan has rejuvenated Malayalam fiction’ - The Little Magazine
Many of the writings on the book are endorsements or informative pieces.They would not qualify as reviews. Well, as long as they whet the appetite of readers...
From Himal: "The stories of Dutch Battery (or Lantham Bathery, in Malayalam) are told by Jessica, who begins while still in the womb. She grows up to be a feisty teenager and a devout but reflective Christian. From her, we learn that the residents of Lantham Bathery name Vasco da Gama in their prayers, crediting him for both their conversion to Christianity and an end to their oppression as lower-caste Hindus. We hear how Amrita Sher-Gil, the painter, appears in Kochi and buys two easels, the most perfect that she has ever seen. We come to know that as a result of the rice shortage in Kerala in 1958, its communist chief minister introduced macaroni into the market – and was subsequently referred to as ‘Lord Macaroni’.
Litanies is set on the imaginary island of Lantham Battery, just to the north of Fort Kochi. ‘Historical’ anecdotes comprise the first half, with a prominent theme being the rise of communism in Kerala. The result, though, is the reader feels a little lost without a plot. One emerges in the second half, however, when Jessica is sexually harassed by her mathematics tutor. When she speaks up about the abuse, her family tries to shut her up, save for her grandfather. More interesting is that the response to Jessica’s plight by followers of god and Marx is the same: Let it be. The padre cannot intervene because her perpetrator is not a Catholic, and the local communist leader says she imagined it. In the end, Jessica has to choose between suicide and going mad – the latter her grandfather’s suggestion" - (Meher Ali)
It was through Rajesh's blog that I came to know about Litanies of Dutch Battery. An excerpt: "The mosaic Madhavan created when he inversed Jessica’s itsy bitsy memories through a glass has been a joy. I have traveled the places he narrated. I have studied in the school where Raghavan and Pushpangadan master taught in the book, I have watched the orange sunsets beyond the slender strip of Vypin behind Lanthan Batheri and I think I have met all the characters in person if I let go on this anachronistic time, really!"
As a Malayali I feel it is sad that I can only read a translated version. That is the sad story of many like me who have lived all over India like gypsies thanks to the fact that their fathers were soldiers. But I am glad that a fellow blogger and good friend has enabled me to savour this piece of exquisite writing through such an exquisite example of good translation.
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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(१) एक बार एक शराबी एक साधू से टकरा गया.
साधू गुस्से में बोले: "मूर्ख मैं तुझे श्राप देता हूँ"
शराबी बोला: "रुकिए महाराज मैं ग्लास लेकर आता हूँ."
(२) एक बार एक नौजवान शराब पीकर घर लौटा. कहीं पिताजी पकड़ न लें सोचकर वह एक बड़ी किताब खोलकर ऊंची आवाज़ में पढने लगा. उसकी आवाज़ सुनकर उसके पिताजी ने उससे पुछा "क्यों पीकर आया है क्या?"
बेटा घबरा के बोला: "नहीं तो"
पिताजी बोले: "फिर खुली सूटकेस सामने रखके क्यों बक बक कर रहा है?"
(३) एक शराबी पूरे नशे में घर लौट रहा था. रास्ते में मंदिर दिखा. बाहर पुजारी खड़े थे. शराबी ने पुछा: "सबसे बड़ा कौन?" उससे पीछा छुड़ाने के लिए पंडित बोले:" सबसे बड़ा मंदिर". शराबी ने कहा: "मंदिर बड़ा तो धरती पर कैसे खड़ा?"
पुजारी: "धरती बड़ी"
शराबी: "धरती बड़ी तो शेषनाग पर क्यों खड़ी?"
पुजारी: "शेषनाग बड़ा"
शराबी: "शेषनाग बड़ा तो शिवजी के गले में क्यों पड़ा?"
पुजारी: "शिव बड़े"
शराबी: "शिव बड़े तो पर्वत पर क्यों खड़े?"
पुजारी: "पर्वत बड़ा"
शराबी: "पर्वत बड़ा तो हनुमान की उँगली पे क्यों पड़ा?"
पुजारी: "हनुमान बड़ा"
शराबी: "हनुमान बड़ा तो राम के चरणों में क्यों पड़ा?"
पुजारी: "राम बड़े"
शराबी: "राम बड़े तो रावण के पीछे क्यों पड़े? "
पुजारी: "अरे मेरे बाप तू ही बता की कौन बड़ा?"
शराबी: "इस दुनिया में वही बड़ा जो पूरी बोतल पीके अपने पैरों पे खड़ा!!!"
(४) पत्नी पति से बोली: "जब तुम देशी पीते हो तब मुझे 'पारो' बुलाते हो. जब व्हिस्की पीते हो तो मुझे 'डार्लिंग' बुलाते हो आज मुझे क्या बुलाओगे?"
पति: "आज में होश में हूँ चुड़ैल!!!"
सौजन्य: मित्रों के एस एम् एस (sms)
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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५ अक्टूबर लक्ष्मी पूजा के दिन महू शहर में मैं पैर पैदल घूम रहा था. हाथ में कैमरा था. पर चूंकि मैं थोड़े देर से निकला था इसलिए सूरज की रौशनी वैसी नहीं थी जैसा कि मैं चाहता था. फिर भी मैने कुछ तसवीरें खींची. जब मैं महाराष्ट्र समाज क्षेत्र से गुज़र रहा था श्री अशोक गणेश धोड़पकर मुझे अपने घर ले गए और उन्होंने मुझे एक किला दिखाया जो उन्होंने हाथ से बनाया था. देख कर साफ़ नज़र आ रहा था की उन्होंने इस कार्य में काफी महेनत की थी. उन्होंने मुझे एक अन्य मित्र श्री शरद जोशीजी के घर जाकर उनके द्वारा बनाया गया किला भी देखने को कहा. जोशीजी के घर भी एक बहुत ही सुन्दर किला बना हुआ था. जोशीजी ने बताया की महाराष्ट्र में दिवाली के समय किला बनाने की प्रथा है. देखकर मुझे बहुत अच्छा लगा.
दीपावली पर्व में लक्ष्मी पूजा का अगला दिन धोक पढवा कहलाता है. महू में यह दिन बहुत ख़ास होता है. क्योंकि मैं मूल केरल राज्य का हूँ और एक फौजी परिवार का हूँ इसलिए जब मैं यहाँ १९७९ में आया था मुझे नहीं पता था की महू में ही यह दिन इतना विशेष है. मैं सोचता था की पूरे उत्तर भारत में इस दिन का इतना ही महत्व है. स्थानीय अखबारों से और मित्रों से मुझे पता चला की इस दिन को सिर्फ महू में ही इस विशेष ढंग से मनाया जाता है. अब तो यह हाल हैं कि मुझसे यह कल्पना भी नहीं की जाती कि इस दिन मैं महू के बाहर हो सकता हूँ.
सुबह से लोग एक दूसरे के घरों में जाकर दीपावली की शुभकामनाएं देते हैं. लोग नहा धो कर अछे कपडे पहने होते हैं. दुकानदार अपने अपने दुकानों के सामने खड़े होकर अपने मित्रों का अभिवादन स्वीकार करते हैं. इस दिन छोटे बड़ों का पाँव छूकर उनसे आशीर्वाद लेते हैं और अपने हम उम्र मित्रों से गले मिलते हैं.
अब राजनैतिक नेता भी महू में घूम घूमकर लोगों को दीपावली की शुभकामनाएं देते हैं. मेरे अनुसार इस वर्ष इंदौर से सांसद श्रीमती सुमित्रा महाजन, महू के विधायक श्री कैलाश विजयवर्गीय (जो मध्य प्रदेश सरकार में उद्योग मंत्री भी हैं), जिला कांग्रेस अध्यक्ष श्री हेमंत पाल, महू में लोगों से मिलने और दीपावली का अभिवादन देने आये थे. महू के भी प्रमुख नेता जैसे कि श्री कैलाश पाण्डेय, मध्य प्रदेश के कांग्रेस सेवा दल अध्यक्ष श्री योगेश यादव, कांग्रेस से महू के भूतपूर्व विधायक श्री अंतर सिंह दरबार महू की जनता से प्यार बटोरने गली गली घूम रहे थे. Cantonement बोर्ड के मुख्य अधिकारी (सी ई ओ) श्री रवि शंकर भी दिखे मुझे. शायद यह पहली बार था कि इस पद पर बैठे अधिकारी ने दीपावली पर शहर घूमकर लोगों का अभिवादन किया.
महू शहर में घूमकर अपने मित्रों से मिलने और कई तस्वीर खींचने के बाद मैं घर आकर दोपहर का खाना खाकर, कुछ देर आराम करके अपने छोटे की बेटीयों के साथ गवली पलासिया गाँव गया. यहाँ मेरे बचपन का मित्र विष्णु पाटीदार अपने परिवार के साथ रहता है. विष्णु की बड़ी बेटी पूजा जिसका विवाह इसी साल फरवरी में हुआ था अपने पति के साथ दिवाली मानाने आई हुई थी और अपने
ससुराल में रह रही थी.
विष्णु के घर पहुँच कर मैने और मेरी भतीजियों ने थोडा समय वहाँ बिताया. चाय पी, मिठाई खाए. उसके बाद हम उसके बेटे के मंगेतर के घर गए. कुछ समय वहां बिताने के बाद उनकी बड़ी बेटी पूजा के घर गए जहां हम उससे और उसके पति प्रवीन से मिले. दोनों बैंगलोर में कंप्यूटर क्षेत्र में कार्यरत हैं. कुछ समय उनके साथ बिताने के बाद हम घर वापस आ गए. धोक पढवा के दिन मैं भी पूरी तरह महू के रंग में रंग जाता हूँ. यह दिन मैं अपने बचपन के मित्रों को समर्पित कर देता हूँ. साल भर में कई त्यौहार आते हैं पर दिवाली की बात ही कुछ अलग है. पटाखे और मिठाई में वह मज़ा और मिठास नहीं है जो अपने मित्रों से मिलने में है.
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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The DSC prize for South Asian Literature has been instituted by the infrastructure firm DSC. They are also the main sponsors of the Jaipur Literature Festival. The award is for English novels from South Asia.
The ten member advisory committee includes the writer Nayantara Sehgal (whose mother Vijayalaxmi Pandit was Jawaharlal Nehru's sister), the economist and British MP Lord Meghnad Desai, journalist Tina Brown and historian Urvashi Butalia (one of the founders of Kali For Women) among others. It is this committee which chose the five person jury - Lord Matthew Evans, Ian Jack, Amitava Kumar, Moni Mohsin and the chairperson Nilanjana S Roy.
The longlist for the first DSC Prize has been announced. It consists of fourteen novels. Here they are, in no particular order:
From India:
Amit Chaudhuri's 'The Immortals'
Chandrahas Choudhury's 'Arzee the Dwarf '
Upamanyu Chatterjee's 'Way to Go'
Rokkaiah Salma's 'The Hour Past Midnight'
Anjum Hassan's 'Neti Neti'
Tania James' 'Atlas of Unknowns'
Manju Kapur's 'The Immigrant'
Sankar's 'The Middleman',
Jaspreet Singh's 'Chef'
Aatish Taseer's 'The Temple Goers'
From Pakistan:
Ali Sethi's 'The Wish Maker'
Musharraf Ali Farooqui's 'The Story of a Widow'
H M Naqvi's 'The Home Boy'
From Sri Lanka:
Ru Freeman's 'A Disobedient Girl'
What can one say? May the best work win. That's all.
p.s. One must add that it is pleasing to see a USD 50,000 literary prize for South Asia.
Source: Outlook Magazine. http://news.outlookindia.com/item.aspx?694266
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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The Nature Volunteers, a group of nature lovers in Indore, and the Indore Photography Group conducted a butterfly race yesterday 5 Sept 2010. I was unable to participate but I did remember some pics I had clicked of butterflies last year and earlier. So here are some of them:
The first pic is that of a Common Emigrant which had perched on my shoulder and then floated onto this flower. Clicked on Sept 21, 2007 at home.
The second pic is that of a Tailed Jay perched on a cactus. Clicked on Sept 21, 2007 at home.
The third pic was clicked on Thursday Sept 3, 2009. Location: The jungles on the hill of Janapao near Mhow. My uncle who was visiting from Kerala wanted to go uphill and pray at a Shiva temple on a hilltop. We were walking through the forest when I saw these butterflies feeding on cowdung. I also saw some smaller groups on rocks ... fascinating...
When I posted this in my facebook account this is what fellow blogger and nature lover Priyanka commented: "Many butterflies feed on nectar from flowers, but they also get essential minerals and salts from mud and animal manures. This large gathering on mud or manure is called mud-puddling. Many entomologists create their own mud puddles in their gardens in flower beds to attract a wide range of butterflies."
Thanks to my ex-student and good friend Kaustubh Rishi for helping me to identify these species.
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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Mhow, Indore, Madhya Pradesh
Aug 5 2010
Camera: SONY DSC H9
The Naughty Squirrel.
I was in the compound of an old bungalow in Mhow when I saw this squirrel. Luckily I was carrying my camera. He was sitting on top of a wooden post when I saw him. He let me come fairly close when I approached. Thanks to the 15x zoom on my camera I did not have to go too close. He really pranced around. I could bet he was showing off his prowess in climbing and jumping. Seeing the image on the barbed wire my blogger friend Vasudha who oftens honours my blogposts by composing haiku sent me these lines:
WALKING AMIDST THORNS
DELICATE PRETTY SQUIRREL
WATCHING WITH WONDER !
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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The history of Mhow especially the British presence here from 1818 to 1947 is something which fascinates me. I have spent hours exploring the two Mhow cemetries and photographing old British graves. This January I came across the grave of Sandra the infant daughter of Major and Mrs J Drudge-Coates of the British Army Corps of Signals. She had died on Feb 15 1943, aged 15 months.
The epitaph reads: "In Loving Memory of Sandra, youngest daughter of Major and Mrs J Drudge-Coates, Royal Corps of Signals, whom God called suddenly, Feb 15 1943, aged 15 months. An angel took my flower away, yet I will not repine. For Jesus in his bosom wears, the flower that once was mine."
During the early days of the Raj wives and children did not come to India. But the advent of steamships and later the Suez Canal changed that. The Gora Sahib in India stopped keeping desiwives when the ladywives started arriving. Of the many British children born in India many attained eminence. Some names I remember include writers Eric Blair (George Orwell), Lawrence and Gerald Durrell, Rudyard Kipling, the eminent mathematician Augustus De Morgan, the singer Sir Cliff Richards and Englebert Humperdinck (real name Arnold Dorsey aka Jerry Dorsey) and even the infamous cricketer Douglas Jardine of the bodyline series.
I do not feel particularly sad when I see the graves of British soldiers in the Mhow cemetry. It is possible that there may well be a hundred thousand British graves in all the cemetries of the Indian subcontinent. The British were here to keep the Union Jack flying and it did not come for free. I remember reading these lines of the poet Rupert Brooke from his poem The Soldier when I was in school:
If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is forever England.
Rupert Brooke had died in World War I along with other famous poets like Siegfried Sassoon and these lines were dedicated to the hundreds of thousands of English soldiers killed in the horrible trench warfare in Europe but the same spirit well applies to graves in India. When one is walking among these graves one does feel that one is in England so well have these graveyards been built.
Seeing the graves of women and children is a different matter and I must admit that seeing them makes me feel sad.
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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It must have been in 2000 that I found this bonsai tray at Prince Nursery, Mhow. The tray had no holes in its base. And its depth was around 2 inches. Just right for a birdbath.
Since then this birdbath which has been placed in the garden of our house has quenched the thirst of scores, if not hundreds, of birds. Some of the species I remember having seen drinking water from the bath or just splashing around include, doves, red vented bulbuls, koels, crow pheasants, Indian robins, whiteyes, magpie robins and brahminy mynas.
For many years I kept it on the ground just near a guava tree and even in the height of summers I could see earthworms wriggling when I lifted it. The moisture which seeped through the pores kept this small community of earthworms in just the right conditions.
Of late I see this magpie robin which is a very regular visitor. I have clicked a few pictures of this bird and I am uploading two of these for all of you to savour. Do let me know how you like this bird. Have you seen it before?
p.s. This is my third attempt at uploading this blog. I pray I succeed.
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Posted on
Friday, July 16, 2010
4:53:17 PM
Modified on
Friday, July 16, 2010
4:53:53 PM
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From
Proloy Kumar Bagchi
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Posted on
Friday, July 16, 2010
1:10:54 PM
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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Posted on
Friday, July 16, 2010
11:56:39 AM
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From
Proloy Kumar Bagchi
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Posted on
Friday, July 16, 2010
9:31:08 AM
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From
Anurag Shukla
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Posted on
Friday, July 16, 2010
7:23:26 AM
Modified on
Friday, July 16, 2010
9:11:08 AM
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From
Ambreen Zaidi
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Posted on
Thursday, July 15, 2010
10:13:00 PM
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From
Ashfaq Ahmad
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Posted on
Thursday, July 15, 2010
8:41:11 PM
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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Friday, July 2 2010
Mhow, Indore, MP
I was photographing the chikoos on a chikoo tree when I saw a bird hopping around in the inner branches of the tree. Its colour reminded me of a Golden Oriole but it was definitely not one. I managed to click a couple of reasonably okay photographs.
As I was not able to identify the bird I sent an sos to my good friend Priyanka in Mumbai who happens to be an avid birder and nature lover. Her reply was prompt, "It is a Marshall's Lora," she wrote, "You are lucky to be able to see such birds." Well I am also lucky to have friends like her who respond to my distress calls. This may well be the first time I have consciously seen this bird. As I told Priyanka thanks to the camera I make an effort to capture the image of every bird I see in this small town and that forces me to find out its name, in case I do not know it, and other interesting facts about the species.
For the technically inclined the taxonomic name of this bird is Aegithina nigrolutea. Everyone who saw this on my facebook page was struck by the beauty and colour.
Do let me know whether you have seen this bird.
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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On the first of May 2010 Lt. Col (Retd) V G Sowani, SM a senior army veteran passed away in Mhow where he had settled after retirement. At the age of ninety he was the seniormost surviving veteran in Mhow. He was also one of the few surviving veterans who had joined the Army in the pre-independence era. According to a blog of the Corps of Signals these are some details about him:
1. Date of birth: 11 Sep 1920 2. Date of Seniority: 04 Feb 1942
3. Date of retirement: 03 Feb 1970
He had settled in Mhow after retirement. I do not remember seeing him in my childhood though my parents knew the family. I remember him from 1979 onwards when I was in my late teens and we had returned to Mhow for my father's last posting. He and I would often meet on our evening walk. We both would be with a dog. My father had been allotted an official quarter on the Mall which was known as Burmah Shell ka Bungla by the locals of Mhow. And the Sowanis lived diagonally across the road in a house they had purchased after the Colonel had retired from the Army. I also remember him for the side car attached to his Lambretta scooter. And for his impeccable manner of dressing - something very characteristic of officers commissioned in the pre-independence Indian Army. We left the Burmah Shell Bungalow in 1980 when my Dad retired. And as we decided to settle in Mhow we were always in touch with the Sowanis.
There is a feeling of sadness when I think of veterans like Colonel Sowani and my dad who passed away last May. These are soldiers who were born in the nineteen twenties and had served in the Indian Army during historic times.
Mrs Vasundhara Sowani and daughter Abhijeet, who is a medical doctor based in the USA and had flown down on being informed of the sad news, were kind enough to let me have access to the old photographs in the family albums. I am uploading some of them in this post as a tribute to the deceased soldier. I would like to end with the words an ex-signal officer wrote in another blog I had posted as a tribute to Colonel Sowani: Goodbye Old Sparrow.
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Note: 'Sparrow' is the term used to denote the Brigade Signal Officer, i.e., the Signals officer posted in a brigade and who is responsible for the communications running smoothly.
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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The word ‘Sariska’ brings strange emotions within me. The Sariska Sanctuary is in Alwar district of Rajasthan. And it was in this small town that I completed the three years of my middle school from 1972 to 1975. The Bangladesh Liberation War had ended some six months ago and we had shifted from Mhow to Alwar. My father was posted to a newly raised unit of the Corps of Signals of the Indian Army. That was the year we celebrated the 25th anniversary of our Independence and there were functions and speeches galore.
In Alwar we stayed in a newly built cantonment named Itarana. This was a scrub jungle teeming with wild life. Even before we had left for Alwar my father had told us that it was full of peafowl. When we reached Alwar we were not disappointed. As a matter of fact there was much more than we had imagined. The first lesson we learnt was that Rajasthan was not desert everywhere. Alwar was a fairly green town. The jungle at Itarana did not have many trees. If I remember rightly the forests there were full of thorny shrubs. They must have been some type of acacia. I also remember the bushes of ber (berries). The same berries which we used to buy at five paise for a handful were available for free here. All one had to do was step out !!!
The place was teeming with many species of birds. I remember the peafowl, thousands of doves, babblers, Indian Rollers, common Mynahs, Brahminy Mynahs, kites, eagles, vultures. Later I also saw partridges, quail, sand grouse and the rather rare green pigeon or hariyal as it was known. Among animals I saw plenty of hares (we used to call them rabbits of khargosh), neelgai (the Indian antelope) and we also saw a hyena which was killed by a soldier when it strayed near his living quarters at night.
We would often see the grown up sons of some of the officers going on hunts with twelve bore guns or .22 rifles. Some of them would even shoot peafowl. If I remember rightly this was about the time shikar, especially tiger hunting, was banned in India. But it took some time for the ban to get implemented in some measure. Completely stopping shikar in India is virtually impossible. Consider the number of VIPs who have been caught poaching. And these cases are just the tip of the iceberg.
I remember a friend I made when I was in Class VII. He was the student of a leading public school and was studying in Class X. He would come home only on holidays. His father was also posted in Alwar and they were one of those affluent Rajput families with a big collection of guns and having a lifestyle which was diametrically opposite to that lived by most middle class Army officers. Let us call this friend Vijay. Vijay was also fond of hunting and he would often take me or my brother along for company. We would often come back with a hare or a partridge or two. I remember bringing back a pair of sand grouse once. It was Vijay who gave me a copy of the Englishman E P Gee’s Wildlife of India. I became alert to articles on wildlife in the newspapers and The Illustrated Weekly of India – my weekly input for various forms of cerebral masala.
Vijay’s father had once scolded me for killing a small bird with a catapult. I had proudly taken it to his house. “Do not kill if you do not eat it,” his father had said, “If I see you killing such a bird again I will make you eat it.” His sternness had the desired effect, but only for a brief period. I had tasted blood and I wanted more. A few more birds would fall prey to my catapult before we left Alwar.
Today I am an enthusiastic supporter of the demand for a ban on the sale of catapults. They spell an ecological disaster. I must add that Vijay himself never went by what his Dad taught. Once when we were returning empty handed from the jungle he shot an eagle. I do not know why he did it. I still shudder when I remember the sight of that fine bird falling from the branch on which it was perched. And some months later a dead male neelgai was found not far from the Itarana palace. Many of my friends said that they suspected Vijay.
I also remember a trip to the Sariska Sanctuary. A group of school children from Europe was being taken around natural sanctuaries in UP and Rajasthan with tigers in them. If I remember rightly this was some promotional event associated with Project Tiger. When the group reached Alwar six children from our school were chosen as the hosts who would represent our town. I and a friend were the stand by team. Luckily for us two girls dropped out and we could go. It was a memorable day. Though we did not see any tigers we saw some fresh pug marks. And it was great interacting with those students from Europe, we really savoured every moment we spent with them.
I was horrified when, a few years ago, newsreports told us that Sariska was a zero tiger area. But I was not surprised because one had been hearing stories of how the tiger count had been falling. Itarana too, I have heard, is now devoid of many of the species we had seen during the seventies. When I look at Alwar and compare the flora and fauna I had seen there with what is present there today I see the ecological disaster which has taken place all over our country. One does not have to read scholarly books to understand this tragedy – all one has to do is to look around one’s own surroundings.
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Posted on
Friday, April 16, 2010
11:58:55 AM
Modified on
Friday, April 16, 2010
11:59:41 AM
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From
Proloy Kumar Bagchi
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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Hindi cinema tries to portray mental illness in 'Karthik Calling Karthik.' I am sceptical of mainstream Indian cinema trying to take up a serious issue like this. And subjects like mental illness can be used to make films which appeal to the voyeuristic instinct in the audience. I doubt that this film will make a mark among the classes and definitely not among the masses. Farhan Akhtar (the son of Javed Akhtar and the step son of Shabana Azmi), the protagonist in this film, shows that he is a good actor besides being a director with a professional touch. And the dusky Deepika Padukone who plays his girlfriend is lovely but thats all that she was supposed to be in this film. She was meant to portray a modern urban Indian girl who is going through her own heartbreaks as she searches for a 'gentle and caring' man.
Farhan Akhtar's acting is the redeeming feature and I would watch the film again just to see him. The end does became a bit text-bookish what with all the explanations. Nikhat Kazmi gives the film a 3.5 out of 5 in his review in The Times of India. I would give it a 3 (grudgingly).
Click here (http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/moviereview/5615980.cms) to see the review.
The film also exemplifies something which has especially been seen in recent Bollywood films - technical excellence and a certain slickness which was totally absent till the 2000s. Call it a positive fall out of globalisation. Its a level playing field now as far as technology and gizmos are concerned. However most Bollywood films continue to remain of the kind that make one feel like gnashing one's teeth. The difference nowadays is in the number of good films which are being produced. This was impossible in the single-cinema days, the multiplexes today are able to absorb the loss which such films may incur thanks to the 300 plus crore rupees that '3 Idiots' can rake in in three weeks or the 120 crores that 'My Name is Khan' can bring in in a week.
I do not remember any really good mainstream Indian film about mental illness. I do remember a Kannada film I saw during the early nineties which was, if I remember rightly, about a man who got his kicks by making his wife have sex with other men and then hearing her talk about it. Girish Karnad had played the role of the psychiatrist in the same film. There was also Khamoshi, a Hindi film, in which Waheeda Rehman plays a nurse in a mental asylum who gets too close to a patient.
p.s. I realised later that Feb 26, the day I saw the film, was the date it was released all over India. This is another novelty. Couldn't imagine this some years ago. Hundreds, nay thousands of prints, being released in theatres all over the country and downloaded through satellite. The balcony ticket in Dreamland Cinema, Mhow costs Rupees Thirty. And the snacks in the canteen were all within Rupees ten a piece. The ambience of a small town, including the odd mosquito, while watching the latest film. What more does one want? If only I were a fan of Bollywood
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Posted on
Tuesday, March 02, 2010
9:22:27 PM
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From
Nani Manna
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Posted on
Monday, March 01, 2010
3:53:18 PM
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From
Ganesh - R
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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होली एवं वसंतोत्सव की शुभ कामनाएं आप सबको
देखो पति पत्नी का प्यार -
पत्नी: जब तुम देशी पीते हो तो मुझे प्यार से पारो बुलाते हो. जब तुम व्हिस्की पीते हो तब तुम मुझे डार्लिंग बुलाते हो. आज क्या पीकर आये हो?
पति: आज मैं होश मैं हूँ चुड़ैल!!!
सौजन्य: बचपन के एक मित्र का एस एम् एस
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Posted on
Monday, March 01, 2010
9:59:50 AM
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From
Ganesh - R
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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Feb 17 - The first birthday of IIT Indore. Celebrations were held at Hotel Lemon Tree, Indore.
Prof Milind Malshe of the English Literature Department led a team of young singers who sang the Vandana.
The director of IIT Indore, Dr. Pradeep Mathur, spoke about how he would like IIT-I to evolve. He said that the new campus should have at least one building which is iconic. He was also keen that IIT Indore be known for its research programs. He also expressed interest in teaching the students at least one foreign language as that would be an asset to them.
Savita Godbole's students gave a Kathak performance...
There was music too. An event which was managed by Neal Jain who works with British Airways.
All in all a lovely function. What one could sense was the emergence of a giant tree from a tiny seed...
May IIT-I go from strength to strength... When they shift to their permanent site IIT Indore will be in a village named Simrol in Mhow tehsil.
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Posted on
Thursday, February 18, 2010
5:09:57 PM
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From
Ravi Limaye
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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I remember visiting the late Dr R.T. Doshi’s house in January 1999. He lived in Bandra, Mumbai in a house named Jamunotri. I had first read about him in a national newspaper in the late eighties or early nineties. After that I happened to see him on the science program Turning Point which was telecast on Doordarshan. What Dr. Doshi did was very simple. He collected crushed sugarcane (bagasse) from vendors selling sugarcane juice. Using sacks and bagasse and very little soil he was able to grow a mind bewildering range of vegetables and fruits on his rooftop terrace garden. I had read that he had even succeeded in growing strawberries in the humid climate of Mumbai.
When I visited his house on a January morning there were a wide variety of visitors from different walks of life. I was able to walk around his terrace garden and click pictures from my camera. I saw coconuts growing on a not very tall tree in one corner. I saw drums full of crushed sugarcane and kitchen waste from which were growing brinjals, pomegranates, lady fingers, guavas…. The list is endless. And it is difficult to believe that all this was being done using ‘trash’. The experiments using drums with holes in them was called Community Farming. Neighbouring families would send him all their kitchen waste and he would use this to grow vegetables and fruits.
It is interesting to note that very often the stink in garbage is due to rotting organic matter. And every household generates at least half a kilo of such organic material which, for want of a better word, we call trash. “If this organic matter can decompose naturally with plenty of air it wouldn’t stink,” said Dr Doshi to me, “It is the organic matter which decomposes anaerobically in the absence of air that causes the stink. It is all a question of channelising it properly.” His words made a lot of sense even in the economic sense. Let us assume that thirty percent of a vegetable costing, say, Rupees thirty for a kilogram goes waste. That means nine rupees worth of biomass is being thrown away into the garbage bin which if not properly utilized will become a breeding ground for bacteria and agents of illness.
It is not that this is something untried. Localities in Mumbai, Chennai and Bangalore have shown that this can be done by composting or vermin-composting biomass. It is all about having a will and the determination to do it. Salt Lake City on the outskirts of Kolkatta is using organic wastes to grow vegetables in. Since every household generates some green waste every day one can say with certainty that a city with a population of around two million would generate at least a million kilograms of green waste in a day. This is an awful lot and if used properly this biomass can be used to generate more biomass which would automatically reduce garbage, stench and disease.
Dr. R. T. Doshi was associated with the late Professor S.A. Dabholkar of Kolhapur who was the founder of Prayog Parivar – a very unconventional learning institution which would teach any person Dabholkar Natueco way of growing plants using a simple medium like postcards long before the advent of the internet. Prof Dabholkar who was a mathematician insisted on using only natural inputs while growing plants. He specialized in optimizing the producing ability of a plant. In his book ‘Plenty For All’ he has discussed Dr. Doshi’s experiment of growing plants on his terrace farm using bagasse.
According to Prof Dabholkar sugarcane contains nutrients like Nitrogen, Phosphorus, Magnesium, Iron, Manganese, Potassium, Calcium, Sulphur, Copper and Zinc. Most of these nutrients, says Dabholkar, remain after the juice has been removed when crushing takes place. Thus if one keeps recycling the remains of whole plants one keeps increasing the nutrient value of the medium in which the plant grows. It is for this reason that Dr. Doshi could grow two and a half tonnes of sugarcane on a 1200 sq. feet terrace.
I remember reading the words of the Vietnamese Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh. He talks of composting garbage and converting it to flowers and fruits. While using this analogy to teach his disciples how to convert the negative energy of bad thoughts into good thoughts through the act of meditation he says that if there were no garbage there would be no flowers. The wise man, he says, sees garbage in flowers and flowers in garbage. If only a sufficient number of us could also see that there would be much more fragrance in the world.
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One of my earlier blog posts on Dr. Doshi's terrace farm continues to attract visitors from around the world. These include a request from Germany to display the photographs of this blog in an exhibition in Berlin in 2010.
I am giving the url of the post:
http://devkumarsblogs.blogspot.com/2006/12/visiting-dr-r-t-doshis-terrace-farm-in.html
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Posted on
Saturday, February 06, 2010
9:37:34 PM
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From
Nani Manna
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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The Duleep Trophy semi-final played between South and Central Zone at the Usha Raje Stadium, Indore from the 26th to the 29th January was a perfect example of good cricket. Considering the talent on display the level was as good as that of a Test Match. The performances of Mohammed Kaif, Suresh Raina, S Badrinath, R Ashwin and Abhimanyu Mithun, among others was outstanding.
I drove down to Indore and spent a few hours at the stadium on Thursday 28 Jan, the third day of play. I saw some lovely batting by Suresh Raina and some nippy bowling by Abhimanyu Mithun and also some good spin by R Ashwin. During the lunch break we came to know that Abhimanyu Mithun had been selected in the Indian squad for the first Test against South Africa. He did bowl a fiery spell after lunch. He has achieved a lot. He is the highest wicket taker in Ranji Trophy 2009-10. And this in only his first season. Let us hope that he blossoms well and gives India a good fast bowler.
My camera was really busy and I clicked almost two hundred pictures. I have uploaded two pictures of Mithun in action and two of Suresh Raina. Hope all of you like them.
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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In the last week of Dec 2009 I would visit the the ranges of the Infantry School, Mhow where the All India G V Mavlankar Shooting Competition and the National Shooting Championship (Big Bore) were being held. I would click photographs by the dozen. I am busy completing a photo essay on this event. Col Ajay Gupta, the Commanding Officer of the Army Marksmanship Unit (AMU) which conducts these events and also trains Army shooters, is a good friend who also knew my late father.
He understands my passion and had very promptly said yes when I had requested permission to attend these events not as a press person but as a blogger. He was happy on receiving a complimentary copy of Blogger's Park.
During these visits I gave a few complimentary copies of Blogger's Park to select persons. Two of these were Lok Sabha MP from Haryana Shri Naveen Jindal and Shri Anil H Lad, the Rajya Sabha MP from Bellary, Karnataka.
Pictures have been uploaded for fellow bloggers to see and enjoy.
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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I captured this image on my morning walk on Saturday 24 Oct. As I was heading towards the kite on a straight road the sun was on my face. I saw that the kite had caught a prey and was finishing it off. It was, most probably, a small rodent. When I had passed it, I turned towards it and the sunlight was falling on it. And the meal was over!!!
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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Caught these two babblers coochie cooing perched on a power line on an overcast day. Thankfully the camera was with me. Thank God that PDA (Public Display of Affection) among birds is not banned.
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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Question which no Pakistani subaltern will ever ask his chief.
Please explain the meaning of:
(i) The Chickens have come home to roost.
(ii) What goes around must come around.
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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We can see a 'List of Prominent Bloggers' when we enter Blogger's Park. I clicked on the name of one such blogger chosen randomly. Only four blog posts. And none for a long time. How on earth does he qualify to be a prominent blogger I wondered.
Please amend this list. And keep it updated. It should be an honour to feature in this list. And it must be shown that one has to be really good to be listed here.
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Posted on
Friday, October 09, 2009
7:58:21 PM
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From
Ashish Gupta
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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Pakistani battle tanks destroyed by the Indian Army, displayed as war trophies in Mhow. A google search showed me that the Pakistanis have also displayed destroyed Indian battle tanks as war trophies. I wonder how many men died in these two tanks. India and Pakistan fought a bitter war in April - Sept 1965. Both sides lost around 7000 men totally. Both sides claim to have won the war.
Many independent analysts claim that the cease fire saved Pakistan as it did not have enough resources to sustain a long war. It also taught them a lesson that India could not be defeated so easily. Similarly India also learnt that defeating Pakistan was not a cake walk. The stalemate continued till 1971 when India defeated Pakistan and liberated Bangladesh.
I was a pre-schooler in 1965. But I remember my father, who was then posted in the Army HQ at New Delhi, and his colleagues talking about the war. As a matter of fact it was impssible to not know that a war was on considering one lived in a defence colony like Dhaula Kuan. I also remember how our windows were blackened for safety from attacking aircraft at night time. Luckily no enemy aircraft reached Delhi.
In an ideal world there would be no wars - something which is impossible in real life. Like the Jews and the Arabs India and Pakistan will always remain at loggerheads. Their common history has gifted them confrontation. Only, today both have nuclear arms.
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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Sitting amidst the
harmless wire of many steel barbs
man is but a thorn.............
- Haiku by Vasudhamurthy (my blogger friend)
The use of pesticides, the construction of towers for mobile phone communications, the construction of multi-storied buildings as opposed to single or double storied buildings, and an uncaring populace who will throw away food but not feed birds, all have contributed to the vanishing of the sparrows. Luckily Mhow is one place where one does get to see sparrows, though not as many as we used to see till a few years ago. My morning walks are devoted to bird watching. I have seen roughly fifteen species in the one kilometre stretch on which I walk back and forth. And I see sparrows every day. Here are a couple of images I captured early this week.
I have never forgotten these lines by the philosopher Henry David Thoreau:
"I once had a sparrow alight upon my shoulder for a moment, while I was hoeing in a village garden, and I felt that I was more distinguished by that circumstance than I should have been by any epaulet I could have worn."
I wonder whether any of us will ever be honoured in this manner. And if any one of us is ever honoured in this manner then I would say that it would be totally undeserved.
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Common Name: House Sparrow
Taxonomic Name: Passer domesticus
Camera Used: SONY DSC H9
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Posted on
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
6:28:34 AM
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From
Prof. Prem Mohan Lakhotia
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Posted on
Saturday, October 03, 2009
10:31:20 AM
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From
Neeha Saxenaa
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Posted on
Friday, October 02, 2009
10:01:12 PM
Modified on
Friday, October 02, 2009
10:01:54 PM
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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Posted on
Friday, October 02, 2009
4:50:26 PM
Modified on
Friday, October 02, 2009
4:55:34 PM
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From
Proloy Kumar Bagchi
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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Humour keeps us alive. Sample this email which has been doing the rounds for quite some time:
A major research institution has recently announced the discovery of the heaviest element known to science. Its existence was proved during the hurricane, gasoline, war and other issues of the last year or two.
The new element has been named **Governmentium** (Gv)*. It has one neutron, 25 assistant neutrons, 88 deputy neutrons, and 198 assistant deputy neutrons, giving it an atomic mass of 312. These 312 particles are held together by forces called mo-rons, which are surrounded by vast quantities of lepton-like particles called pe-ons. Since Governmentium has no electrons, it is inert. However, it can be
detected, because it impedes every reaction with which it comes into contact. A minute amount of Governmentium can cause a reaction that would normally take less than a second, to take over four days to complete.
Governmentium has a normal half-life of four years. It does not decay, however, but instead undergoes a reorganization in which a portion of the assistant neutrons and deputy neutrons exchange places. In fact, Governmentium's mass will actually increase over time, as each reorganization will cause more mo-rons to become neutrons, forming iso-dopes.
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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मोबाइल फ़ोन एवं एस एम् एस की कृपा
वाह प्रभु क्या अजब तेरी लीला है -
कोकक्रोअच चूहे से डरता है
चूहा बिल्ली से
बिल्ली कुत्ते से
कुत्ता आदमी से
आदमी बीवी से
और बीवी कोक्करोअच से!!!!
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Posted on
Saturday, September 05, 2009
3:23:47 PM
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From
Ashish Gupta
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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Dear Bloggers
If you wish to make blogging here an enjoyable experience I would request all of you to post more comments. It does not take much effort to post a comment. Every comment (barring the abusive below-the-belt ones) is a stimulus, a catalyst for the blogger concerned.
So please shake off the inertia and try to post at least one comment per day. And then see how lively Blogger's Park becomes.
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5
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Posted on
Monday, March 01, 2010
2:05:41 PM
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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Posted on
Monday, March 01, 2010
12:12:15 PM
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From
Nani Manna
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Posted on
Monday, March 01, 2010
10:14:02 AM
Modified on
Monday, March 01, 2010
10:15:37 AM
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From
Ganesh - R
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Posted on
Friday, September 04, 2009
8:38:28 AM
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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Posted on
Monday, August 31, 2009
11:22:30 PM
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From
Dinesh Chandra Jugran
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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A concerned MCP's advise for young women -
"Don't go out late at night ...
Bad men roam the streets
Don't do anything which is in the least adventurous
Who knows what trouble it might land you in
Don't play games
Don't drive vehicles
Don't smile and laugh when you are outdoors
Don't this , Don't that , Don't anything.....
Become invisible, that way you won't invite trouble
Stay at home, let the menfolk look after you...
Get educated and take a 9 to 5 job
Be home latest by 7 p.m.
If something goes wrong
Don't say later that you weren't warned.."
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From
Dev Kumar Vasudevan
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Nothing like humour therapy to beat recession blues. Sample this sms I received some time ago: "Twenty years ago I sold fifty shares of a company and bought a 1988 model Bajaj scooter. Today I sold fifty shares of the same company and again bought a 1988 model Bajaj scooter. The market is stable. I am happy."
And please do sample this one too- Reaction of an investor on Sensex mayhem: "This is worse than a divorce, I have lost half my net worth and I still have a husband!!!"
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