Tum Itna Jo.....

Never met him in person really, but he was always there to comfort me in my loneliness, heartbreaks and setbacks.

The first impressions that he made during one’s adolescence turned into some sort of pious admiration by adulthood.

He spoke to me on lazy Sunday afternoons, sometimes almost whispering.

Be it four friends getting wasted over alcohol or someone standing in the window and admiring the setting sun over a cup of tea, he always had something to say for every mood.  

He made blues endearing. With him around, it was never a thing of shame to be a hopeless romantic.

With just a harmonium and a tabla, he romanced tears and pain like no one ever will.

Claiming that smiling too much is probably a ploy to hide pain (‘tum itna jo muskura rahe ho…’) – he toyed with human psyche with masterful ease.  

The melody of his baritone could capture your heart in remarkable ways. A simple rendition of some soulful lyrics and you could at once feel both a spell of trance and the spiritual stirrings of Sufi music. Such was the realm of music that he operated in.  

The heavens endowed him with a gift, which he so sincerely and passionately shared with all of us.

We feel blessed being touched by you, dear Jagjit. Thank you very much.

RIP.

INC: Indian National Cancer

By cracking down on Baba Ramdev, Manmohan Singh has proved that he can wield his iron fist. Good for you Mr. Namesake Prime Minister but let me ask you this: what was this iron fist of yours busy with when the Gurjars held the country and its capital to a ransom? The Gurjars took over one of the busiest rail routes towards Delhi for almost two months and Mr. Namesake Prime Minister didn’t so much raise an eyebrow, leave alone bringing out that fist in open! And I am not even debating the merit (or demerit) of the causes for which these two agitations were being held; because if we do choose to debate that, I think there won’t be any shade of doubt in anybody’s mind as to which one was the real blackmail! To my mind the difference between the two was very elementary though a stark one: one was about taking this country back and other was about initiating a way forward for this country and its governance to clean up its act.

This government is not only corrupt; it keeps coming out with policies, each one more divisive than the previous one, with the sole intent of gaining political mileage and to hang on to the seat of power at any cost. Congress, in its umpteen years at the helm of power has made the social fabric of this country more disruptive and backward looking than ever before. Take two recent bills/acts in case: one seeks to include more communities in the list of OBC communities towards reservation in higher education and jobs. Now, I am all for social development and inclusive growth, but what way is this of ensuring that? By yet again increasing this list you are slapping yourself in the face in that you are openly accepting that all those welfare schemes and thousands of crores of taxpayer’s money spent on them, has had no beneficial effect on the marginalized communities. If anything, a progressive government should look to gradually curtail such lists by ensuring that more and more people are coming out of backwardness and poverty.

Second one is the Prevention of Communal Violence Bill. Without going into the details of it, one of the fatal and manipulative implications of it is that a victim of communal violence, according to this bill, can only be from minority community. So a person belonging to a majority community cannot claim any intervention under this act. If this is not divisive, what is??? Congress, for long has built up the bogey of ‘minority persecution’ – especially with the Muslim community- and continues to shamelessly play such divisive politics over it. Let’s put certain things in perspective here: when we talk of minorities, why do we always have to picture Muslims only? What about other communities? Second, in a country where one of the most successful captains of its cricket team was a Muslim (Azharudin); where the leading superstars of its film industry are ‘Khans’; where one of its leading space scientists turned adorable Presidents was a Muslim, where is the question of Muslim persecution? It is just a terrifying legacy of partition which the congress party has kept alive and continues to furtively nurture. In fact, talking in absolute numbers, one cannot help but think that it is a fallacy to categorize a population of about 175 million as a ‘minority’. It’s high time that the Muslims of this country stop playing into the hands of congress, and stake their rightful claim as well as their make their contribution as equal partners in India’s march towards a progressive, developed and just society.   

For the uninitiated, INC stands for Indian National Congress (full name of the Congress party), but it is only apt to call it Indian National Cancer, considering what it has done to this nation. Actually, it is not very apt after all. Cancer has now found a few treatments that can stop from making it life threatening, however I cannot say the same for the INC!

I bring this discussion to end by paying my ‘disregards’ to two biggest ‘agents’ of congress (I am using the word agent here, specifically as an English equivalent of the Hindi word ‘dalla’ or ‘dalal’). One of them openly espouses the divisive policies of INC, by habitually shooting his acidic mouth off; and another does that in a very subtle and covert manner by firing missives from his sweet mouth contained in his handsome face. I am talking about Digvijay Singh and SRK respectively. This is what I have to say to them: “Oh man, you loudmouths, you love doing that, don’t you?”   

It's Not About Anna

No respected Anna Hazareji, it’s not about you

.

And neither is it about India’s favourite Olympian Suresh Kalmadi.

It’s not about Raja-ji and 2G.

 It’s not about ‘Q’ and his kickbacks (let’s give to him, at least the guns fired when needed).

It’s not about the housing scheme run by our government for the really needy.

It’s not about how ‘adarsh’ our politicians are. 

It’s not about a certain gentleman who ate up all the ‘chara’ meant for cattle.

It’s not about ‘a-safe-heaven-to-stash-away-all-the-black-money’ being labeled as ‘bank account’. (I would rather prefer chocolates and a certain tennis player from that country though.)

It’s not about how someone used ‘tel-ghee’ to print stamp-papers instead of official government ink.

It’s also not about the fact that our parliament is no more a place to debate and implement say a primary health care policy, but a place where cash is traded for votes.

It’s about the ‘thug’ lurking in each one of us.

It’s time we stopped heeding to him every time it tries to hoodwink us by saying ‘chalta hai’ and ‘is desh ka kuch nahi ho sakta’.

It’s time we ostracized him.

It’s about the state of the world that we are going to hand over to our children.

It’s not about Anna.

It’s about US.

Strings Attached

The green monsoon gives way to the sweet autumn whiff. Post Diwali, the air unmistakably brings with it a nip which hints of the cold December that would follow. The earth never gives up on its routine of going around the Sun in circles. How dutiful. Think of the day when Sun calls in sick?! Or the mother earth going on a privilege leave?

The receding of monsoon coincides with the onset of a string of festivities in India. Starting from Rakshabandhan in August, it goes on till well past Makarsankranti, coming to a brief lull after the festival of Holi in March. And certain parts of India do more justice to these festivities than other. I am ready to bet my horse (though imaginary, it’s the only creature in this world that gets my jokes) that Ahmedabad is right up there in the list of such places. Be it the unending firecrackers during Diwali or the Croers worth of Jalebi and Fafda that are gastronomically cornered on Dusshera – Ahmedabad knows how to celebrate with abandon. However no mention of Ahmedabad and its festive spirit is even remotely true and justified if it does not include Garba and Uttrayana – the two festivals so distinctively Gujarati. Unique indeed are these festivals to Gujarat and any attempt to either celebrate Garba or fly kites the way Gujarat does, is a pitiable sham at best.   

While movies and other popular media have revealed a thing or two about Garba, Uttrayana still remains a fare that no amount of description would do justice to. It is only to be seen to be believed. Every year on the day of Makarsankranti (better known as Uttrayana in Gujarat), every Gujarati worth his salt indulges in kite flying. He does so with a pomp known only to kings – blaring music playing from huge speakers from every third terrace, cool shades and hats to look the sun (and the beautiful neighbor) into the eye, eating ‘Undhiyu’ (dripping in gallons of oil and spice) by the tones. The average Amdavadi remains on the terrace from dawn to dusk but his appetite for the frolic still remains insatiated, so the kite flying extends well into the night (by flying lighted Tukkals) and the next day (Vansi Uttrayana or Stale Uttrayana) also.   

And that the fingers get cut by the sharp manja while flying kite, means nothing and is unable to dampen the festive spirit. This made me think of the people central to the whole business of kite flying the Amdavadi style – the manja makers. These are the people, nay workers, who take the raw thread and give it a coating of color and glass powder (which gives the manja its sharpness). The whole process of thus coating the raw thread is called ‘Dori rangavi’ or ‘getting the thread colored’.

The story of these manja makers is indeed the story of an industry in itself - excluding the raw thread that is; which usually comes from established players in the textile industry viz. Vardhman, Coats etc. But the process of coating this thread and the people involved in it makes for a fascinating story. These manja makers are a special clan. Every year, just as the soot from Diwali firecrackers settles and the business in cities of Gujarat reopens after a longish break, this tribe of manja makers starts making its way into these cities. They come mostly from the cities of Lucknow, Agra and Barelie in UP or the villages around them. Every year they make cities like Ahmedabad in Gujarat their temporary homes and places of work for about three months. They would stay and work here till 14^th of January, the day of Makarsankranti.

Coating the raw thread – the process which converts thread into a razor sharp kite-string or manja, ready for the battle in the sky – is a specialized skill. The manja makers prepare a special mixture having a dough-like consistency by mixing together specific and customized raw materials viz. a paste of mashed cooked rice, colour, other stickening agents and the most important ingredient of them all – glass powder. The raw thread in the mean time is tied out between two poles separated by a distance roughly equal to or slightly more than the length of a cricket pitch. The manja makers take the special dough in one hand and use the fingers in other hand to carefully segregate and hold the strands individually. Thus using their bare hands, one segregating individual strands and the other holding the glass-powder loaded dough, these manja makers go about converting the innocuous white thread into razor-sharp manja.         

Invariably their fingers are heavily strapped with gauze tape; both to nurse existing cuts as well as to protect them from fresh cuts. But cut they invariably do. Imagine if the manja can easily cut through your finger while just flying the kite, what effect can the dough have which is used to coat the manja in the first place. After a hard day’s work, not being able to eat their dinners properly due to injured fingers is a professional hazard that these manja makers have to live with. And to think that this is a temporary or a seasonal hazard is not true, because for most of these manja makers this is their only profession. Once back to their native places after catering to the seasonal yet more lucrative kite flying scene in Gujarat, most of them continue with this work as this is their permanent vocation and only source of livelihood. Barelie, Agra and Lucknow happen to be the hub of manja making business in India.       

Some of these manja makers have been coming to Gujarat now for two decades or more. Some of them have grown up holding the lethal dough in their hands. Munnibai is one such manja maker. She hails from Lucknow district of UP and has been coming to Ahmedabad every kite-flying season for more than 25 years now. She is a widow and her husband was a manja maker himself. In fact he died (of natural reasons) during one of such seasonal visits to Ahmedabad some 15 years back. Munnibai now comes with her entourage consisting of her sons, son-in-law and a few contracted workers. She herself doesn’t coat the thread, but manages the entire show.

“I have been coming here for more than 25 years now”, says Munnibai. And what has changed over the years? “It has become less profitable proposition now” she claims. “There was a time when we used to come here much before Diwali, there was a lot of work. Besides, the contractual labor has become dearer, while the coating charges have not increased proportionately. The cost of raw material has also gone up.” Munnibai has to look after everyone in her team. She takes a place to stay on rent each year for the period of stay and the rentals have also gone up drastically. That piece of information doesn’t come as a surprise to me; the real estate scene in Ahmedabad has been scorching hot of late. The manja makers cater to two sets of clientele – one is the shopkeepers and traders who give them bulk orders and later sell the ready-coated manja at their shops at much higher rates. The other is individual clients who get the raw thread of their choice and get it coated under their own supervision and customized to their own needs viz. some people ask for more glass-powder in the coating dough to make the manja extra sharp. Since shopkeepers give them bulk orders they also pay them less, while catering to individual clients is more profitable as the charges are higher. “Few years back a bulk of our business used to come by catering to the individual clients. These days people do not have time. They purchase the ready coated manja from shopkeepers instead of coming to us. So now most of our work comes from these traders, while the individual client business picks up only in last 10 days or so.” Besides all this, there are the usual problems of police harassment and other officials. “They (police) take manja from us for free. We have to oblige, how can we say no?”   

All said and done it’s business as usual for Munnibai and a lot like her as his sons and others relentlessly keep streaking the thread with the dough. They start at 7 in the morning and continue till 8 or 9 in the night. And as the d-day approaches (14^th January) and the business gets brisk, the manja making continues well past midnight. They start early again next morning and hardly manage a sleep of 4 or 5 hours.

But the bustling Ahmedabad traffic at Raipur circle fails to take notice of this slogging, except for an indifferent glance when it is made to wait for the lights to turn green. Which makes me ponder - what happens if the manja makers decide to take a break next year and do not turn up? And what happens if our earth skips its mandatory encircling of the sun and the air fails to bring the nip post Diwali next time around? Unlikely, both of them. I can bet my horse!