The city of hills and the sea - IV

How close and personal it is to save one’s own home? And how grossly defeated one would feel if he/she is not able to do the same? Are their actions justified if they revolt such a defeat and go to an extreme? If not, then why not?

I wonder if the American, British and all such people who go around to colonize the world would ever have a sound sleep in night with the realization of murder and uprooting of so many people across the globe for their insatiable greed of possession (Watch movies such as Blessed by Fire and Salt of this Sea and you will know what I mean)! They may celebrate the victory of killing Osama bin Laden today. But then isn’t it a picture half-shown as we all know who created Osama in first place? Back home in India, how do we deal with the issues of Kashmir and Naxalism? Did it not all start with the greed of possession by an external entity of homes (and in some cases, the very right to exist) that belonged to someone else?

I was reading “Don’t Urbanize me - Focus section” of Sunday Hindustan Times (01, May, 2011) and realized that saving one’s home may be extremely close and personal but at times that doesn’t really matter. What matter is where does the power lie.

Not very far from the reaches of the mega city of Mumbai, live a handful of villagers (well yes, villagers in true sense) in Vasai who are poignantly fighting the system against the proposed “development”. What kind of thoughts pop up in your head? Don’t they appear like nuts? They will be offered huge value for their land and a nice flat to live in. And they say they don’t want it!! Such crazy maniacs always create roadblocks in the pace of development, right? Wrong! Coz when you hear what they have to say about development, you will realize, they understand its meaning, in true sense. Development is not about taller buildings, hospitals that may exist only for name sake, schools that may not have adequate resources (human as well as infrastructural) and roads with more potholes than the vehicles on it. And it’s certainly not snatching away someone’s right to choose a profession and a style of life, in the name of it all. Development simply means a stage of growth or advancement, in any area one chooses to do so. And if the people from Vasai have chosen to develop in the area of agriculture, they have every right to this choice. More so, when the land in question is extremely fertile and very good for agricultural advancement. As far as the other development parameters such as Education, Health, etc go, they have it enough. And Happiness, the one parameter that most of us ignore, they have in abundance, in the lifestyle they have chosen for themselves. As Peter Dias, former Sarpanch of Mulgaon Village from the regions puts it, “Help us strengthen our agricultural economy and save our green cover, and we will show you that we want development too.” And when he says this, it makes more sense because he has headed a village which has won the district level competition for its quality agricultural produce in 1995.

The meaning which we attach to development is very relative. We need to understand that we all are different people and we all have different needs. The most ethical way to survive is to respect everyone’s individuality and not to encroach in other’s personal premises without their consent. Here, the people Vasai are in effort to save their villages’ individuality and identity from the encroachment of the political goons, corporations and builder lobbyists. I am not very sure for how long will they be able to survive this tussle, but I pray that they not only survive but win. Because if they don’t, it will be another sign of human moral degradation. And we, the people who are aware of their plight are to support them, coz if we don’t and they lose, we are destined to lose our wars too, sooner or later.

While I move towards the closure of this piece, I realize that saving one’s home is not just a personal fight. We need to support them in their endeavor, coz tomorrow it may be us on the other side and if we choose to remain indifferent today, others may choose the same tomorrow.

(Photographs used in the title image are from Vasai and are taken from - the sage , Harini Calamur, Serenity on Flickr)

To read the previous articles in this series, please visit below links:

The city of hills and the sea VIII: The cities of Bombay and Pune

The city of hills and the sea VII: Sound of the city

The city of hills and the sea VI: Where the mind is without fear...

The city of hills and the sea V: Love Happens!

The city of hills and the sea III: Of Belong and Belongings

The city of hills and the sea II: 16 Jyotsna

The city of hills and the sea I: weaklings?

The city of hills and the sea: Introduction

The last kiss

That was the most painful kiss may be.

Sitting on the verge of their final separation, and as far as they could on the sofa in drawing room, Rajesh and Yamini were feeling pretty awkward after that kiss. He just wanted to say goodbye and move out of the house. But he had gotten up, bent down to reach her cheeks and had planted a gentle kiss. Then, he stayed there, just like that for a while. So did she. In those few seconds, they had travelled beyond the pain of their divorce and unending days and nights of differences and quarrels, to the days they were in love with each other and a kiss just meant a medium to convey that love. In these few seconds, they were hit by the fact that a kiss between them no more conveys the same meaning as it did in those years. Sometimes it doesn’t matter how we start. What remains with us, most of the times, is the way we end it. And these moments of finality of their relationship were going to haunt their lives for longer than they had imagined. In their quest of lost individuality, what they realized had lost was, the beauty of their togetherness. The same togetherness which was, once upon a time, beautified by their individuality.

Sitting silently on the opposite corners of the sofa, they wondered for the most appropriate action, or words, or whatever that could help them get out of the awkwardness of this moment. Finally, she broke the silence, “Do you remember our first kiss,” she paused and then with some hesitation pronounced his name, “… Rajesh.”

He wanted to say ‘yes’. But then he also didn’t wish to lie. Not now at least. But then saying ‘no’ wouldn’t have been very rude? He didn’t wish to insult her emotions. Not now at least. So he just smiled, looking down on his shoes. Then he continued the same smile towards her. They looked into each others’ eyes, or did they try to do so… tried so hard that it appeared as if they really did? Dilemma is not a good thing, not in such moments. He got up and said, “I think I should leave now,” and looked around the house. “Let me know if you need any help. I shall be in the city for some more days. Then I will be moving to…”

“Let it be Rajesh. I would not want to know.” Oh fuck! Why did I say that? It was so bloody rude. How does it matter if I know where will he be going? But I can’t ask him now. Can I? She wondered. He was already at his door by now, with his last batch of baggage.

“Well then. Wish you good luck,” he said.

“Yeah. You too.” She looked up, confidently and impatiently this time. Just before he was about to turn and open the door, she ran up to him, pulled her heels up to reach up to his face, and kissed him on his lips. Hard. Near passionate. And desperate. With certain ferocity, as if she wanted to recreate the magic of their first kiss. But then she realized it was of no use. She pulled her heels down and said, “Goo…” stopped for a second and then continued to finish, “bye, Rajesh.” They tried to respond to each other with a smile but couldn’t stretch their lips much. Probably they were sealed by that last kiss. He stepped out of house and shut the door softly. They never got to know, but both had stayed behind the closed door for a while. He - waiting for her, to open it again and check if he was still there. She - waiting for the bell to ring again so that she could open it without any delay. But neither happened.

The city of hills and the sea - III

After fifteen minutes of “oh, fuck!” wait, I finally halted a rickshaw which had its “For hire” up and jumped inside, “Chembur.”

“Arre… Chembur?”

Before he could say he would not want to go, I almost shouted, “Yes! And don’t say you too won’t go ‘coz your meter was up. And I am already late, thanks to many of your friends. I have to reach there in another 30 minutes so…” I just trailed off as he had pulled the rickshaw forward, half heartedly though. But it didn’t matter to me. I was fumed, first by the extreme heat Bombay is already facing in March (God! What’s gonna happen in May!!!) and then numerous refusals from Rickshaw-wallahs before this guy. So to cool myself a little, I just plugged in my earphones.

We had hardly gone a few meters ahead that we faced a traffic jam. The F-word reappeared in my mind but I just held it back before it could have got itself pronounced as I realized the driver was saying something. I pulled off the earphone from my right ear and asked, “What?”

He was saying something in Marathi, but my questioning in Hindi probably compelled him to translate it in Hindi, “Nothing Bhai. These traffic jams I say. See, in this afternoon also!!” He looked up at me from the rear view mirror.

“Yeah,” I said just to acknowledge the discussion but in a toneless manner to avoid any further chitchat. But it appeared as if he had forgotten my rash behavior exhibited few minutes back. So he continued, “I tell you bhai, half of these people don’t know how to drive. And more so if a Ladies is driving. “See. Why did she have to pull her car in the wrong direction?” he hinted to a lady driver to prove his point.

I nodded and realizing that now this was gonna go on forever till I reach Chembur, I plugged my phone in again but with reduced volume so that I could also hear what this fellow was yapping on. I didn’t want him to feel bad. After all he was the guy who saved me from the roadside frustration.

As soon as we reached Amar Mahal, he said, “Bhai, these people have dug up entire Mumbai. They will make something one year and will break and redo it the next year. It seems they are never satisfied with what they make… You see, they are now making a monorail here. God knows, from where to where will they connect…. I tell you bhai, Mumbai city has something about it…. Anyone who comes here never leaves… It’s not like bhai that they want to... but it’s like they just can’t… there’s something I tell you.”

By now I was all cool and didn’t mind his disconnected viewpoints. I asked him, “Where are you from?”

“Bhai, I am from here only.”

“Here means?”

“Sangali, bhai. In Maharshtra Only.”

“Yeah, I know.” I felt certain discomfort. Probably because I wasn’t expecting him to be from where he was.

“Where are you from, bhai?” My discomfort heightened a bit.

“Well I live here only, in Chembur.”

“No no. I mean where your village is?”

“Well I am from here only,” I looked away. I had lied. And probably he had guessed.

“No no, bhai I mean your parents, where are they from. ‘Coz you see, in Mumbai, everyone comes from somewhere at some point of time.”

“Well yeah, my parents… they are from U.P.”

He smiled in the rearview mirror. I am not sure what did he smiled at. Of an answer he was a little too sure ‘coz I didn’t speak Marathi to him? Of my being so stupid to try faking my place of origin? Of realizing that despite he was serving me, he had sensed a feeling of fear in me, and that gave a sense of pride to him? I don’t know. May be it was just a reasonless response. I don’t know. But I hated his smile in that moment. I looked away. And before he could initiate any further discussion, I took out my phone and dialed a random friend to have a very random discussion. I just ensured I did that in English, as most of the upper class Bombayites do, and it did continue till I reach my destination.

When I walked off the Rickshaw I felt weak and sad.

“Why? Why did I have to do it? Did I feel guilty of belonging to UP?

I tried answering my own questions in a reflection later. Where do I belong to? I don’t belong here, because I am not born here, even though I have kinda spoiled my Hindi, which is so Bombay-ized now that my parents sadly point it out when I talk to them. But I don’t even belong to my place of birth any more, because I don’t speak their language the same way as they do. I feel same alienation there, which at times I feel here, in such situations. Neither do I belong to any of the cities I have spent considerable time of my life throughout my education career. This un-belonged existence at times creates chaos within. And a mind smoked out with such chaos may force you toward deceit, big or small. But then I need to clear this chaos, ones and for all. I need to know… I need to know which place I belong to so that tomorrow I don’t feel awkward in such situations.

But then how do I define my place of belonging? On the merit of it being the place where my mom chose to give birth to me? Or my dad chose me to school at? Or the place I chose to study and work? All these places I have lived have contributed to my being, but do I belong to any of them? In this bedazzlement I realize, we don’t belong to places. Rather, they belong to us.

The concept of belonging would have been more appropriate in times when people spent their entire existence in just one place. Not any more. Today, we don’t travel around; we live around. The places we live around are defined by the way we live there; and not vice versa.

I cannot belong to here, or for that matter, anywhere in the world. The only thing that will belong to this place is my minuscule and unnoticeable contribution in characterizing this city, as what it will be known in days and years to come. I may not live here, tomorrow. But this city will live within me in the form of certain formations and reformations I have underwent in all these years I have spent here. And the only belongings with me from this city and all the cities I will have lived in will be… memories.

To read other posts from The City of Hills and the Sea, click below:

The city of hills and the sea VIII: The cities of Bombay and Pune

The city of hills and the sea VII: Sound of the city

The city of hills and the sea VI: Where the mind is without fear...

The city of hills and the sea V: Love Happens!

The city of hills and the sea IV: My Home, My Way
The city of hills and the sea II: 16 Jyotsna

The city of hills and the sea I: weaklings?

The city of hills and the sea: Introduction

Why Education?

How well do we understand a system that we have been part of, for a good part of our life? And if asked, what is the purpose of this system, how many of us would be able to confidently answer?

Unfortunately many of us would not be able to answer in affirmative. And no one is to blame. It’s the way we have been conditioned in those 15+years. A conditioning that has gone deep into our DNA and have become our thought process. And with such conditioning, if someone says that purpose of education is to become competitive or attain fame, one must not be shocked.

At the outset, let it be known that Education is not same as literacy. It is also not about schooling. Our current education system has been beautifully analogized by Sir Ken Robinson, educationist, in one of his speeches. He says, “We have to go from what is today an industrial model of education, which is based on linearity and conformity... We have to move to model which is based on the principles of agriculture. We have to recognize, that human flourishing is not a mechanical process... it is an organic process. You can not predict the outcome of human development... all you can do is, like a farmer, create the conditions on which they will flourish.”

Elaborating this thought further, we do not expect a tomato seed to become an onion plant; neither have we expected a sugarcane farm to provide us with rice. Rather we provide them with adequate conditions to grow and become what they are. Then why do we become so harsh with our own children that we ignore who they are and start expecting from them to become what we would want them to be? Ponder over.

Human beings are characterized by one or few basic talents, which we can call the core. Rest all is auxiliary. If we focus on the development of the core of a child, we automatically meet up with the auxiliaries, as they are nothing but just a by-product of the successful implementation of the core talent. And that’s what the real purpose of education is – to assist in identification and further develop the natural talent of a child, thus, leading to the enablement of his/her rational, logical and emotional quotient. Education should be such that it enables a child to be able to express his/her idea and apply his/her knowledge. Rest would all be a byproduct of this process; be it the profession a child would choose or the success that shall follow.

So if this makes sense, from where do we begin? Though the idea is cool, achieving it would be a gigantic task, especially when looked from outside the system. So first step would be to enter the system without a boxed mindset, ready to explore and innovate. As Sir Robinson rightly says, “It doesn’t need evolution. It needs revolution.”

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References:
http://sirkenrobinson.com,
http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/eng/sir_ken_robinson_bring_on_the_revolution.html