“ Threats of narrow-minded Parochialism”

When we regard Kashmir to Kanyakumari as One India, no one is an interloper for another!
What is an interloper anyways? Anyone who stays at my home still cannot associate with my joys, sorrows, hopes or aspirations; isn’t it? The English remained as intruders despite spending 150 years in India just since they could not be one with the joys and sorrows of the Indians. A Marathi settled in Kannadiga region, UPiite migrated to Maharashtra, a Tamilian dwelling in Delhi or a Punjabi living in Andhra Pradesh – If all these people reside with only their kith and kin (where they think don’t belong) simply out of their vested interests, remaining absolutely disinterested in bonding with the localities or respecting their language, culture, festivals and reverences; posing themselves as the competitors against the localities for business, employment and power; bitterness is bound to soar. A man expresses anger out of a right. It could be an emotional right as well. The feeling that someone is intruding or someone is trace passing is surely annoying. And then this annoyance becomes public. Intemperance of anything is poisonous. It is as preposterous to behave in such selfish manner with local people that they get intense feeling of being imposed on; as it is to breach the principle of democracy against Parochialism; and induce the selfish superiority complex within the localities. What are principles? Nothing but observing appropriate restraints. ‘Regionality’ need not always be a poison or a pest! Our regional languages are extremely rich from the literature point of view. Their treasure cannot be neglected. People who recommend to divide the map of India with straight lines; must be regarding those who live in there as sheer dots - as lifeless as the map itself. Birds of the same feather flock together and this togetherness gives birth to distinct knowledge and arts thus celebrating life. A region is not merely a piece of land created for the convenience of revenue officer. Its a system implemented keeping in mind the holistic development of the folks of our country. The reason why it’s necessary to retain the language based regions is that; a person living in a remote hamlet can interact with his governing authority with confidence. The compulsion to learn the language he has never heard; thus making it difficult for him to “learn” itself; must be ended.
However its of utmost importance for the people migrating from one part of the country to another must obey the principle that they will not attack on the minds, hearts and most importantly the breadwinning hands of the localities out of their selfish motives and provinciality.

Ultimately; the only way for us to live together harmoniously is – we must try to understand the cause behind the other’s loud cry; and if he is hurt by us then we must change our ways. This is the only true principle that will lead to a society living in harmony. Selfish sinners don’t follow it and weaken the society. A character named man; full of paradoxical natures; when has thought about how to reduce resistance and reduced it ; only then he has managed to stay at peace. Lets affirm this fact in our minds that a nation and a region are not against but they are complimentary towards each other. The threats of parochialism and racism are a serious matter of concern and action for both politicians as well as citizens.

[This is an excerpt from a radio speech Mr. Pu. La. Deshpande originally in Marathi.
I translated it since it appealed to me and thought of sharing it with all my Marathi and non-Marathi friends. ]

- Pradnya

“Offbeat”

I’d determined to abandon you from my thoughts

For all misery you’ve installed in the world
For heartfelt prayers you overlook
For each time you fail to protect the noble
For every instance you let the wrong win over the right
For each cry of the innocent
For every tear for the impeccable
For all saints crucified
For all devils enthroned
For undeserved suffering met every now and then
For me and all like me
In You who trusted

Abandoning you did not help
Everyone else vacated my world
Don’t know if it were one of your conspiracies again
But realization dawned the hard way
And I find no one else but only you with me
Your invisible presence is felt around
You don’t justify but take on all indictments
You might not answer but you sure listen
Don’t know from where then
The answers come on their own
And so does the strength to breathe on
Path is lit just about a footstep

In your limited capacities you offer
Stillness of a frozen lake
Vast emptiness of the endless sky
Soothing calmness of the maturing night
Serene coolness of the full moonlight
Freshness of springing blossom
Silence in the dense woods
Your company in loneliness

And then my offbeat life goes on….again!

~Pradnya
15-16 Nov 2010

:)

Okay! So, it all began with my cell phone getting discharged in the night without giving prior notice! Like any typical Twenty someone, I have complete dependency on my cell to get up, remember birthdays, get alerted about important to-do-things, and getting tracked down by family and friends. My SAMSUNG X650 also has been the first solid asset purchased from my own income! Hence no matter how much ever my friends hated it, this little thing had a special place in my life! However that day I forgot to feed electricity to the pale hungry gadget and it must have fainted somewhere in deep morning hours. It was a beckoning Saturday morning after a frenzied work week and I must have been dreaming about Aamir riding majestically on his brown horse with his hands up in the air (ref: RDB trailers!). I had then* reserved the Saturday morning slot for Aamir Khan dreams. My indulgent siesta was interrupted by noisy thumps on the door at 5 AM. It suddenly dawned on me that I was supposed to be up at least an hour back and ready to leave by now!
“Oh Sh*t…!” the words slipped down my mouth instead of my daily good morning greeting to the Gods. (Is it this sacrilege gesture that cursed my day ahead?)
I almost fell from my bed and rushed to answer the door in zombie…
“Damn this lock…” I muttered as I struggled to unlock the door to the He-who-must-not-be-named banging! Enemy at the gate!
[Note: I will not be disclosing the name of the villain of this story for legal reasons, so will be referring to him as He-who-must-not-be-named.
Since he is the villain, its needless to say that I am the hero of this story [;), Also, the name of my friend has been changed!]

“ I have been knocking since like 15 minutes! Where the hell were u and why the hell are you not ready” he was obviously angry!
“Oh Sh*t…!” Again, as I just realized that I was facing him in my night pajamas!
“ I …I dunno..I didn’t get up…I was sleeping…I had set the alarm…but it didn’t ring…God! WHERE’S MY PHONE!!!”
“God knows where is it…me and Ankita have been trying frantically to reach you since an hour but you are unreachable as if already lost in jungle”
“Its discharged...” I found it under my pillow only and dead as a rock. ”…that explains it”…I blabbered meekly.
“Damn that thing now. Our train leaves in 20 minutes from Shivajinagar and you’ve got 5 minutes to get ready and come with me, Lady!“ He commanded!
“…SO u better move…I dunno how people can be so irresponsible…hope you’ve at least packed your sack”…he kept on going!
“Hey! I didn’t ask you to come and pick me up did I?…I could have come on my own alright?” His last taunt hit me and I realized he was there uninvited and had not breached any promise to be ready at 5 AM sharp. So I need not obey his orders!
“Oh I see! First you should learn to get up on your own…anyways I don’t have time to fight with you and spoil my day…just get ready and lets get the hell outta here okay?”
“You know what? I changed my plans! I ain’t coming for the trek. So Goodbye please and a have great day ahead!”
“I see! So you’re not coming! Lovely! And what about Ankita? She sent me all the way here to pick you up and she is waiting for us at the station already” He was right this time! What about her?
“I will talk to her and explain…its none of your business” I snapped back.
“Let me get some things straight here Miss Joshi! I am here after a lot of struggle and I am not leaving without you. So you have eaten up 2 minutes to get ready now so GO!”

Don’t know why but I hurried inside without further arguments. Actually if it were not for Ankita, I would have sure dumped the idea of this trek. She was my best friend and wanted to go for her first trek and needed me with her. I kept all my rage and ego aside and unbelievably got ready in the remaining 3 minutes! We made our auto-rickshaw walla floor it literally fast as an ambulance…

Remember Kareena misses her train in ‘Jab We Met’? You would if you had seen me running for that train at Shivajinagar station…Despite our jack rabbit run, the train off passed us in front of our eyes, with our entire trek gang loaded into it.
Something that was feared had happened! Our train was missed, Ankita was sent with bunch of strangers, the next train was after 2 hours and it was the two of us left on the entire platform. The same two of us who cannot keep quiet for more than two minutes, cannot agree on even a thing and cannot be in each other’s company without fighting tooth and nail!
Awkwardly we stood on the platform for couple of minutes. My heart started pounding anticipating the fury of my fellow co-traveler… I suddenly felt guilty for him and my friend.
“I am sorry… I am sorry … I am sorry…” I murmured genuinely to him as I wanted to put the his anger off before it comes on me. Nothing else works like saying ‘sorry’ in such a situation. Miraculously without further blame-games he asked me if I was okay to try taking the state transport bus route to the village Ambivali(Ouch that name hurts…read further to know why!) we had to reach. Hastily I consented and there began our pilgrimage. I don’t even remember what route we traced. I decided to keep myself out of the decision making to avoid any further conflicts and decided to just follow the commandments!

He inquired at the ST Stand and we boarded the “laal dabba” ST from Shivajinagar. Got off somewhere and got into another one. Then got off somewhere again and traversed the next bumpy stretch in a noisy TamTam. Tamtam dropped us in some sidy village where we felt we were hungry. Gorged down the cold (and perhaps stale) Wada-pav’s with water from the dusty but packed mineral water bottle sold at the only makeshift kiosk nearby. Further to reach to “Ambivali (Ouch again!) we also hired an expensive private auto-rickshaw. Our trekking gang had already reached the base for the Fort Peth, our climbing target, on schedule and waiting for us at the public school there. They were tracking and in touch with us via his cell-phone

During this phase-wise journey myself and “the-he-who-must-not-be-named” chose our words carefully and avoided any typical highly inflammable topics since we both were already frustrated due to all the phenomena since morning. Slowly as time passed, the good weather and the beauty of surroundings perhaps calmed us both down and we could even smile at each other. Truly it was a day perfect for a trek. Not very rainy but moist air. Not sunny but high visibility. Cool breezes carrying fragrances of fresh foliage, all landscapes going green!! Monsoon splendor of Sahyadri’s dissolved our morning turmoil gradually and we both were now all set to join the gang and hit the slope…
I wish it were this simple though! Read further for the kahani mein twist!

Step-by-step and vehicle-after-vehicle we managed to make a victorious entry in the petty village. Locating the only public school wasn’t even a task.
“Here we are!” We told ourselves and pat our backs…My guilt now was melting…Phew!
“We made it…we’re at the public school! Where’re you guys? Why can’t we see you” He asked the lead of the gang over cell
“We’re very much at the public school yaar…waiting for you guys for the last 2 hours…we don’t see you either?”
Initially I thought they’re kidding. However, there were no traces of any trekker in the premises. After 5 minutes of heated discussion, the face of he-who-must-not-be-named turned sore again!
“Uh Oh!...Surprise?” I asked him in a lighter tone.
“Yea…Surprise! And a BIG one damn it ^$%^$&%^&%^”

The fact was that ….we had reached an altogether separate Ambivali village which was far far away from where our friends were parked! It was already 2 PM.
We were on our toes since 5 AM in the morning, had to stand each other since then, trudged a long and painful way hungry, thirsty, frenzied, had spent much more than expected, and… the trek stands missed! Wow!
Don’t even ask about the reaction of the rest of the clan. They enjoyed their hearty laughs ROFL LOL all of them.
‘Ankita must be fuming…I am so so dead’…I thought…

We both didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. In purest form of humiliation, we waited on the main road where some kind hearted bus could stop.
Quiet, tired, sleepy. It was over. Excitement, and anger both! We exchanged empty smiles and headed our way back home. Quite a fruitless effort looks like it, right?
I could be wrong but I think me and the-he-who-must-not-be-named had become friends from foes, and me and Ankita had gotten closer due the pains we took more or less for her! Not too bad!

Laugh at the thing, tease us for that…but that trek is noted distinctly in my diary…especially since it was missed! ;)

~ me

कत्थक ..

In my mind I was obviously carrying a mixed bag of feelings – delight, excitement as well as anxiety while I filled the enrollment form…. I was finally going to start something I have been longing to do for almost a decade now.


I was only in class 7th and 8th during my toddler innings of Kathak. I recollect killing time in school for the thrill of rushing for my dance classes with my friend who stayed in the same building. Hunger otherwise hovering towards the end of school time would vanish God knows where. The fatigue of the entire day’s mugging would also not bother during those 2 hours of dancing on the guided verbal beats counted by my teacher. Learning the various Taals (Sorry! No synonym in English for this!) in forwarded in its patent tempos, practicing typical Mudras (facial expressions) and the most fascinating part was doing the Todaas as a team…all in sync. Same feet slapping on the floor at the same time, hands aligned in the same direction, maintaining the same niche of time while switching in between the Todaas… the resonance of everyone’s Ghungru’s jingling as one…it was like how thousands of sunflowers sway upon the swings of the winds together. Harmony was happening despite all our differences…so effortlessly…so beautifully.

Our good teamwork even invited some interesting stints our way. We performed on stage…before celebrities. For many social, cultural and even commercial events. Too young to be aware that we were gathering good matter to decorate our resumes, we went on dancing. We went on rejoicing. It was only during the performances, that I loathed my short hair and felt jealous of my other friends in my team who had long hair which would go very well with the traditional uniform of Kathak. My teacher had to take extraa pains to make a tomboy (that’was me) to get dressed as a Kathak dancer with Anarkali Salwar, wrist-full of bangles, dangling earrings, twinkling necklaces and loooong plait of hair decked with Gajraas(garlands)! These were also the times where we would get to officially do Make up without Mumma’s denial. I would keep it on and on till I slept( or till Mumma summoned to take it off) on the day of the performance. I hated my regular cloths on such days. Feasts and treats from parents and teacher usually followed the performances and those days were so special…we all felt like Miss India’s then ….

And shortly after the chirpy days were gone and the era of (so called) career building kicked off! My entire world revolved around some numbers flashing on the marksheets. The harmony, innocence and glee got replaced with competition, self-focus and tension. I was soon one of those zillions of people swimming upstream in the tide of struggle to “succeed”. My friend somehow refrained from this academic trap and continued pursuing Kathak. During these leaving years dance was a rare commodity for me and was limited only to socials in college fests and Garbaa in Navratri. However it was not unnoticeable how much I loved dancing. Whenever I got a chance I took quick dips in jive, salsa etc and even thoroughly enjoyed doing the silly “Ganapati dance” (NOM pls!). But whenever I went home and the voice of Ghungru’s came floating unto my ears from my friend’s window, they pinched my heart and reminded me that I was missing on something that was so so close to my heart and soul, upsetting me.

Years have gone by and my stereotypical IT personnel life has traversed its usual path…the Stress way!
I had given myself thousands of excuses why I couldn’t or can’t dance. I keep on doing things out of obligation of people’s opinions about me. Keep on ignoring the voices of my soul. Struggling to rush ahead while carrying my baggage of aborted projects, incomplete journeys and unfinished creation…

I had not realized that Dance was already acting as my sure-shot stress-buster even when I did not need it badly as today. Its only Art which has the supreme healing powers to absorb the stress and evaporate the same. And now as I have arrived at the point of “Enough is enough!” without even thinking about any consequences, I went and got admitted in a Kathak beginner’s program. Today was my first class. My new teacher asked me if I had learnt anything earlier and I simply denied for I wanted to start afresh. Devoid of any pre-conceived notion, any ego of “knowing” a bit of it. I took my first Tatkaar today and an anonymous joy filled my heart as if layers of my frustration fell of with increasing cadence of the Tatkaar.

I am in a batch of young school girls and I could see myself in each one of them. Most importantly, I just peeped in the mirror, and guess what? After long time and to my surprise, I saw myself there, too!!!

-- me!

Never...

Never have I let my head rest
On any stranger's shoulders
Never let my aching soul seek solace
In any unknown arms
Never sold my respect and in return
Begotten sympathy
Never lured any innocent self
Misusing my charms

Never have I hurt a loved one with intent
Never retorted with unwarranted contempt
Never cast a stone in a serene placid lake
In undeserved fortune I've never claimed stake

I have travelled alone with my baggage on my back
No matter how tired, never have I switched my track
But in the surge of walk I have come so very far
On cold sleepless nights all I have is my twinkle star

I have danced all learned steps
But never have I felt the pulse of Jive
I have read and heard all melodious verses
But never has the music come alive

Never has my hand been gently held
Never have my hair been passionately smelled
Never have my heartbeats been closely felt
Never in love my resolves could melt

Yet

Never will I lose my faith in the Good
Never will I choose "want" over "should"
Never can the loneliness take away my Lord
Never can the silence mute my divine chord

I shall keep singing my song to the world
With cruel winds I shall fight like a bird
Gulp down my sorrows Put my smile back on
Never will my nights not await a new dawn

~ me

Awaiting my Monsoon

Its becoming difficult day by day to watch the dark clouds just loiter across the sky and vanish away God knows where. Monsoon is half way through on calendar yet there has not been a single wet day this season. I feel like asking Mr. Varun Raj – the deity of Rain : Dude what’s the matter this time? Are you on bench or something?

I am no farmer who has lost all his crops to the drought and who has ended up in pitiable conditions. Nor am I a gypsy who is not able to find oasis. I live in a city where the water supply has been just “cut down”. I have the syntax tank installed at home and my shower still pours steady lines of water upon me to accompany my bathroom singing. I drink purified water and don’t remember my mouth ever being parched. Draught hasn’t hit me as yet even though it seems lurking right around the corner...

Thinking of the rain my mind takes a reverse gear back to my schooldays. Yea yea yea…the same dancing in the rain, paper boats, puddle jumps, fragrance of new school books , frog catching and all that most of us indulge in. The very act of huddling up in the warmth of the blanket on a cold rainy night, watching the dancing streaks of water upon the window pane and listening to their Taal-Vadya-Kacheri was a soothing exercise. No thoughts racing in the mind, no demands, no complaints, just an observing me. As if I were drinking the rain through my eyes and ears. Flapping my feet in the pool of muddy water trapped in my building was my favorite pass-time. But I am sure cleaning me after that stunt wasn’t mom’s. Thanks to BSES that no-electricity days which I adored, were celebrated only during monsoon. No homework that night. Shadow’s ballet shows on the walls. Candle light dinner at home, post dinner trek on the terrace with dad. I used to get to fiddle with torch only during this time. Those nights I have lived all my fascinations of the medieval castles lit up in the candles. Snakes used to show up sometimes which was a rare feast for a city child like me. I used to boast about my building watchman who had hunt down a water snake once upon a time in late 1970’s (when I wasn’t even born) to my classmates having them them listening with widened eyes and dropped jaws. He sounded like a Hero to us then. I used to suitably assume every stick visibly floating in water was a water snake and I was this brave girl to pave my way through them…like in Harry Potter! Thankfully I never had any genuine encounters with this category of danger, however as I grew up, there were many other hazards…especially for us traveling Mumbaikars!

Trudging through knee deep, dark and filthy sewage water outside the train station unaware of the potholes and ditches carved by Municipality…hell it was risky…it always is! Sitting in college lectures feeling disgusted about your feet, shivering in your wet clothes and urging the monsoon to get the hell out of Mumbai was a yearly ritual. Flooded roads, local trains delayed and cancelled, uncertainty of exams due to excessive rains, epidemics and unaffordable sick leaves amidst study pressures, wet books and thus to be redone assignments…monsoon was no more a friend like it felt during school times. Beyond my understanding was why on earth poets and filmmakers portray it romantic.

It took several more years and phases of life and different versions of monsoon experienced to understand that. Monsoon treks to lush green mountains. The panoramic views of the blessed and contented earth from their summits, roaring waterfalls, thick grass, wild flowers, soil fragrance, moist air, interesting group of friends and the natural “hit on’s” and infatuations in early twenties mostly happened amidst such atmosphere only... This most beautiful face of monsoon was none less than ecstatic. I recollect a very filmy incidence happened with me in the crazy London rain. I was walking past a pavement at Canary Wharf, the windiest place you can imagine. It was raining horizontal and vertical and I was drenched to the fullest with my overcoat dripping. My frail umbrella had turned into a satellite dish upside down and I was being pulled with its force. It was impossible to hold onto it at one point and my hand just gave up. It went drifting along with the winds and hit a handsome young British-man. He looked around and realized that I was the owner or that poor thing and am myself drifting along with force of the wind. Catching the umbrella, he gathered its frills together and gently handed over it to me with a smile on his face. In perfect Scottish accent he said “No use opening it” …I stood there in electrified numbness. Fortunately or unfortunately unlike in the movies we never met again, but that monsoon moment justified to me what a romantic season is all about…

Different types of rains, different times, different places…but it makes you get involved. Not only your body but also your mind soaks in it. Itsn’t it beautiful how every little leaf even on the thorny bushes blossoms after the very entry of monsoon? It’s the season of burgeoning life. No matter how inconvenient, how difficult it is, monsoon assures life…not just water. These days due to the aging effect and the social inhibitions its difficult to get away and play in pouring rain. But I consciously did that during the debut showers of this season, and trust me it did bloom something inside me which was dead...or at least dried out. I don’t know what that is but its alive now. I felt like a peacock flaunting his plummage.

Which is why I am really really waiting for it like that very farmer or a gypsy or a peacock. Yes, water shortage is a hovering peril but its not just about that. I am missing you monsoon…I am missing you bigtime…

Hey you Varun Guy – What are you waiting for? Get out of your bench and send me my monsoon…NOW!

She couldn't fetch me fortune
Nor did she bring me any glory
But she put my heart to solace
By always listening to my story...

My unspoken dreams, my fears
My unhealed wounds, my tears
My expression of joy she broadcasts
Upon tides of time forever it lasts

Forbidden emotions she handles
Fizzled memories she rekindles
Despite all selfish forces
My vanilla soul, she endorses

She's been there from beginning
She'll stand by my till the end
She's none but my dear Poetry...
My forgotten old best friend


Pradnya Joshi
5 Jan 2008

चंद शेर ...

बहुत मुश्किलसे रोक पाए है आंसू
हमें अब रोने को न कहो
मेहनतसे लाइ है होटोंपर हँसी
उसे यूंही खोने को न कहो

जाने क्यूँ मिली है सज़ा
हम तो बेगुनाह है
के इतने अपनोंके बीच भी
हम बेपनाह है

जिन्दगीने कितने सितम किए
हमेशा हमने की वफ़ा है
पर अब जिंदगीसे कहो कोई
के हम भी उससे खफा है

दर्द की नशा काफ़ी है
हमें तो खाली जाम ही मिला है
इस कदर दिल है टूटा
के न बचा कोई गिला है

खूबसूरत सपने सजाए थे हमने
न जाने किसके भरोसे
निवाले भी लुट गए थालिसे
जिन्दगीने थे जो परोसे

- प्रदन्या जोशी