A Rendezvous with Childhood..............

Life gives surprises and yesterday was my turn. Some say, ‘do not count what you have lost. Just see what you have now’. But, I would say that history always strengthens the foundation of present and future. If the past was bad, it gives you the momentum to shape up life and if it was good, it acts as a stimulator to do better. Yes, yesterday I was being traced back to my history.

A colleague of my father had invited us for dinner. We stay at Bolani (Orissa) and he stays at Kiriburu. It is another Iron Ore Mines of SAIL-RMD which is 15 kilometers away from Bolani and falls under Jharkhand. Strange, is not it?

Well, since these places come under Saranda Reserve Forest so, we had to cut our vehicle through deep forest, which will only confine your imagination to Maoists’ attacks. As I was discussing these issues with papa, we entered Kiriburu gate. And we were soon near Bank More, a market place; turning towards left of it was my very first dwelling place, the Type-2 quarters. I was in the place where my ma brought me when I was 10 months old, where I got my second parents, my jethu and jethima and from where, I went to ‘Baby Land’ to learn the first lessons of life.

I was again in the place where I spent my initial 9 years of life.

While I was busy recollecting my childhood, papa showed the road on which he and ma used to fight for the reason as to who would carry me. Actually, the inclination of the road was very steep and I was too plump to be taken on lap. It was really hilarious.

Then, paving our way to HillTop, we went to the Jagannath Mandir, where the famous ‘Rath festival’ of Orissa takes place. Although, papa tried to make me remember that I had come here several times with him but, I could not even get a hazy picture. Still, it was fascinating listening to your own old stories.

Finishing our dinner, we decided to visit a family friend’s flat. We crossed ‘my school- KV’, the Kiriburu market- Bum Bum Pustak Bhandar, the pond where Chhat Puja still goes on and the very Kali Mandir area where we used to stay after leaving Type-2. My childhood came vivid in front of my eyes. Again, adding an emotional touch to it, papa narrated few incidences which insisted me to pray to god that let me take back to those days when life was so simple and beautiful, when ‘happiness’ prevailed over ‘money’, when ‘success’ was confined to securing good marks in school examination, when ‘scoldings’ were ‘learnings’, when ‘ice-spice’ was the favourite game, when evenings were occupied by ‘I dream of Jeannie’ and ‘Dennis the Menace’, when Sundays were meant ‘Sri Krishna’, ‘Rangoli’ and ‘Mahabharat’, when ‘home work’ was the toughest assignment and ‘morality’ actually existed.

Finally, visiting our family friend’s place, we started for Bolani. There are very few moments, when I had heartily thanked someone, but this time, I should thank that uncle because of whom I could go back to ‘life’ and find ‘myself’.

This trip to home was different. Every time I come home, nothing else hovers over my mind except that I will eat my favourite dishes upto the brim. But, this time when I started from Delhi, the state of my mind was in another horizon. I came searching for care, affection, love and above all peace. The busy life of the capital had kept me abstained from all these and I was not able to find ‘myself’. The ‘full of life’ and jovial Sumana (as Prof Basu used to say) was lost somewhere amongst the ‘ambitious’ lots.

I am still searching the definition of ‘being ambitious’ and ‘successful’. If anyone reading this piece knows, kindly let me know.

Well, I am rejuvenated again. Really, yahan ki hawa mein hi jadu hai.

Happiness Lies in Small Things

I want you to come for the meeting at 2:30 p.m, the much-unexpected message poured into my inbox at 12:45 p.m. Since, the meeting was at Noida, so I had to start at that very moment. Packing up my bag and tightening my shoelaces, I paved my way for Gupta Market bus stand. Staring with my myopic vision to every other bus, just to spot NOIDA scribbled in it, I saw some school guys playing with a piece of chalk and giggling. Asking myself, is it a thing to be so happy? I again concentrated on the ‘bus search’.

After waiting for 10-15 mins, a Uttar Pradesh Parivahan Nigam bus arrived and confirming that it would pass through my stoppage, I took it. Although, the bus was jam-packed, but the drive to reach for the meeting on time made me condone that. Just at the instance, when the humid climate and no prospect of getting a seat till Noida was making me irritated, Lal duppate wali tera naam toh bata…, cut through my ear. For the reason that I have a background in Indian Classical music and a strong likeliness for Rabindra Sangeet, Kishore & Lata, it was difficult for me to believe that the song made me smile. Yes, the song made me rejoice the adverse ambience.

I wanted to burst into laughter and dance at the tune of the song but, of course yeh dilli hai bhaiya America nahi...... so, I had to suppress my feeling. As the bus crossed the toll bridge, the radio played Janne jigar jaane mann…, Munni badnaam hui…..and avoiding the gaze of other passengers I again smiled. The numbers were much to the delight of all the passengers I guess, especially to those who were struggling to hold the clutch to stand firm.

I was recalling the moment when during my college (St. Xavier’s College, Ranchi) fest, a day was allotted especially for tribal cultural programmes. We all friends used to tap our feet on all chhota nagpuri songs like iskool ke tame pe aana gori dame pe…...

I had always claimed that my taste for music is different but today, I convinced myself saying, Come on, Sumana, after all you are a normal human being, itna kya dikahana. Moreover, the incident also reminded me the cliché, happiness lies in small things. Be it a song, a movie, a new t-shirt or a hug from a friend, every small thing is special in its own way.

By the time I was alighting at the gol chakkar, I was full of life and the song gave me the strength to jhelofy the one-hour long video conferencing with world’s biggest player in video, voice and tele-presence, Polycom.

The dhaba type ke songs made my day.

A Wake up Call on INDEPENDENCE DAY

When I peeped out of my window on the morning of 15^th August, one of the most herded market place of Delhi, Lajpat Nagar seemed to have gone into an eerie silence. I could not even spot a dog loitering around. As if it was a curfew. The clock was striking 11 am then. While having the same boring cornflakes that has promised to reduce my weight by two and a half kilograms in two weeks, I took up a newspaper. It read Peepli Live is a drama worth watching.

Being an ardent fan of Aamir Khan, keeping aside my all lethargy, I went for the movie. As soon as it started, I could sense the aroma of that typical Indian gaon. Amidst all the beeps (abuses), jokes, and laughter, as the movie went on; the utter reality beneath the lotion-laden media (the reflection of society), India’s booming economy, and development due to MNC etc came forth. The way media treats its ‘subject’, MNC monopolizes the market, government lure people by its false promises, and above all the politics that reaches the zenith during crisis, was all depicted with conviction.

Although there have been movies on social issues earlier, the recent one being Well Done Abba by Shyam Benegal, but Peepli Live without any formula hit the bull’s eye. Being a former journalist, I attest that the filth media actually works in, the pseudo-democratic government, and the anti-farmer MNC’s agenda are true to a great extent.

Hats off to Aamir Khan for making the best use this vehicle called as ‘movie’ to reach out to the mass and address issues like our rigid education system, cutting off a dyslexic child, and the policy driven indebted farmer’s suicides across the nation.

By the time I came out of the movie theatre, I was recollecting Rabindranath Tagore’s “Where the Mind is Without Fear?” and concluded murmuring, ‘Into that heaven of freedom, oh father, let my country awake’.