Mourning

 Why two blogs posted one after another? Is that your question? Well, yesterday I was real tired, what with the lingering fever, refusing to go way cough n cold, reaching my brother's place almost before the day dawned (after years I saw the still sleepy Pune as neither I nor my students have to any longer face the first 7.30 a.m. lecture!), not to forget, the monthly-Date 21-'fast' ( a day managed with two coffees, one tea and two small little cutie-pie bananas) and a journey, was I a little drained! Yet before today technically began, i did complete writing the blog for yesterday, though the uploading may appear as if it is today. Happens!

Yesterday I attended the last rites of my mother's younger brother. He was an Ayurvedic doctor. In his late eighties, he belonged to that by now almost extinct species, the family doctor, the "doctor uncle" on whom three generations, grandpa to grandchild, used to depend.

And, did the Dombivali-kar's rise to the occasion! His patients, most of them themselves in their mid-/late seventies, paid their respects. People stood in a queue at his dispensary. The queue, the relic of our childhood, now fast forgotten in the every which way 'metro'-ized Pune! 

I do not think I am prejudiced, but I am doubtful if any other satellite city of Mumbai would have so risen to the occasion. I am equally uncertain if any doctor of a later generation, given the excessive specialisation and the inescapable 'business' outlook, would 'de-serve' such respect!

And, yet, the usual mourning mentalities managed to amuse me despite the sense of sadness. Well, I do not pretend to be busier than Mr. Modi. So i cannot constantly check my mobile for some mostly re-hashed messages when a corpse, about to face the last rites, lies there awaiting the final farewell from home. I DO switch OFF my mobile even in the classroom, though my lectures, to cut a crass joke, are never dead-ly!

Why, earlier I never used to touch the mobile if there is anybody with me, sitting next to me. Now I have realised that some people do deserve the dose of their own poison. So i do now and then check my mobile in front of such, though it IS mostly switched off.

Awaiting the final moments of the last journey of somebody from your immediate circle cannot be the time spent away in cracking loud jokes, in back-slapping relatives and acquaintances you managed to meet after decades. Can it be an occasion for exchanging pleasantries, invites, addresses, the much desired mobile numbers, and that, too, in a loud voice that can drown the Ramraksha stotra hummed in a gentle way?

None expects everyone to pull a serious face. Why, in their hearts, many might be thanking that the old, with thousand health related issues, are no longer a responsibility, though such honesty  would never match their hypocrisy!

Yet what stops such gossip-mongers from getting up from their place, going to the next room, or the passage way, do the needful (of all sorts, please!) and come back to keep the vigil? Why, nobody is playing musical chairs there, right? Nor are people Fevicol fixed to their seats!

Similarly, I find the senti(n honestly)mental overflow of powerfully exploded feelings quite astonishing. Sure, after death, better to forget the cruelties and the crudities and the conscious craftiness! Better to remember a positive occasion or two, if possible. Otherwise, better to keep the trap (here, too, the over-sharing/showering/shivering mobile screen!) shut!

Here, too, the gang goes in to a overdrive. Persons, about whom they have often shared their real opinions, suddenly are better than saints, gods, or both combined. There emerge all sorts of stories as their memories choose to unroll these tales.

Of course, there is HUGE (read font size seventy-two, bold-ed, italicized)  partiality, groupism, gangsterism even in such remembrances. People the mafiosi do not want to be acknowledged, as they do not belong to their own mafia, or as they never forever back-scratch the mafia, are completely forgotten, ignored, ill-treated, are even laughed at for these very or similar praxis, while their own types are praised sky-high so much so you wonder why YOU never came across this gem! 

Aai used to call such an attitude "smashan vairagy", that is, the rabid response due to the momentary (in all the senses of the term) surge of grief. Please to note, the translation is MINE! Nothing, absolutely  nothing, to do with her! Another caveat, please. These observations, if they bear any similarity to any person, known/unknown, alive/dead, the similarity, it must be noted, is absolutely incidental. No need to find ANY 'Pratima', image or reflection, there(in)!

Pratima@ The quiet genuine grief may often be lost to such exhibitionism which demands that others must see your tears, hear your howls, eh, sobs! Why, the family and friends debate later who cried how much! The reality could actually be the count of all sorts of orders! No wonder, I admire 'absurd' plays of the "Mahanirvan" variety, despite the pomposity of 'those' mafia! Death indeed is an equaliser!

Rains

 Rains have a way of prettifying even the worst case scenario. Why, after the first n sudden summer showers, our urban spaces, often literally swollen in any which way, actually appear clean and cute, like a baby properly bathed by a loving grandma. Honestly, even in the monsoon puddles, with their curious mix of overflowing drains, slush and the leaked petrol/diesel, i manage to see lovely little rainbows! Monsoon, in brief, beautifies!

Given such a truth universally acknowledged, imagine the Express Way (our very own "Autobahn" of which we can reasonably be as proud as Germans are of their own) during the high monsoon. It is wondrous, all shades of green, punctuated by the rivulets of the purest trills of the whitest serene jumping gleefully down the rough and tough terrain! 

Yet, despite all your "Mi Marathi" pride, THE Sahyadri appears quite hillock-y-ish, once the Himalayas have claimed you as theirs! Honestly, such is the grandeur and yet the dreamy allure of the Himalayas that the only possible reaction is falling desparately in love with the Himalayas, as if you are the Kalidasa and Wordsworth combo re-born!

Forget the monsoon, even the sudden summer showers there are unimaginable. Anyways, all along the high terrain, winding, narrow routes, clouds literally play hide-n-seek with you every nano second. The deep ravines, the craggy peaks literally scratching the skies, the dangerous, can-crumble-any-second cliffs, all these threats wear a diaphonous veil of bridal beauty. The sky-shattering thunder and lightening, i suppose, must be the warning of the 'real', the 'Sonam before the police take her away' look the day after, once the costly bridal make-up and re-fine-ry (full of chemicals! so!) are removed!

Silly jokes apart, the Himalayas, with or without the rains, ARE glorious. Yes, I am absolutely aware that I watched all that majesty safely, from behind the panes. Yes, one does know the terrors the cities/towns there face. I suppose though that it is human beings who, too, are to blame. If structures are built in a threatening way, almost within the 'norm'-al way, what else could be Nature's response, right?

In brief, despite all the dangers that could claim your very life every-and-any second, the Himalayan magic "rocks"! Literally! 

Pratima@ Rains!Rains! Blast away/the squalour with which humans betray! / Honest innocence they always besmirch/As comfy respectability they 're-search'!

Consolation

 When an elderly person in her/his mid- or late-eighties, why some people might even draw the line at mid- or late-seventies, passes away, it is almost customary to maintain that 'good, the old tired body did not have to suffer a lot'. It is almost as if long life, quite common these days, gets associated with woes, worries, wounds, and what not.

This common form of consolation, I do agree, may convince the head, the brain, the intellect.  Yet just scratch a little, and underneath lies this heart that very easily bleeds, this mind that more easily is wounded, this soul that never ever easily accepts the absence!What to do with them?

 That room, that corner of the room, the bed, and most importantly, that never ever to be repeated kind touch, loving glance, everything hurts, and continues to hurt. Why, there are days of wild regret for every minor most, but now deeply remembered, mistake, some error of omission by you by sheer oversight.

Mourning continues to keep a vigil in an innermost corner of your being. Nothing, your remembrances of the happy times together, your memories of the very many positivities of the dear departed, some very intense moments that enriched you both, nothing can ever displace that forever tender spot which can get worried open any moment a similar situation arises!

Time flies away, life goes on, routine has to set in. And, yet, the hurt heart refuses to heal. The deep void never ever fills. Honestly, real consolation never ever happens!

Pratima@ Happy masks always hide deep wounds that can wrench open, and easily at that, whether or not the rest of the materialistic world may/not understand the plight.

Oh, 'the tender grace of a day that is dead will never come back to me'! Wrote Tennyson. Accepted, Indeed! Completely, totally, inalienably!

As students, as teachers!

 There are certain professions in which the success rate absolutely depends on the receiver's abilities. Sure, each and every profession is a kind of give and take. Yet certain professions depend absolutely on the excellence of the doer. Let me give you an example. The I/T industry, for instance. Herein your own coding excellence alone matters.

On the contrary, some professions depend more on the receiver.  A few examples may suffice. An artist, for example, performs better if his audience is not of the wafer crunching variety.  The artist performs excellently ALWAYS, yet if the audience is the cognoscenti, the artist's performance excels.

A teacher, on the contrary, is always only as good or as bad as his/her students. Even if the teacher is excellent knowledge wise, brilliant communication wise, if the students are so-so or ordinary, his/her entire teaching capacity goes down the drain! The students' calibre decides the teacher's success rate!

If the teacher is ordinary and/or mediocre, students always have other alternatives to become knowledgeable, such as the apps, the Google sites, the AI 'agents', and so on. In other words, students pass in spite of the extremely poor/mediocre abilities of the teacher. In other words, unlike every other profession, the end result of the teaching profession is independent of the main agent! As many worthy/unworthy students, as the teacher's success rate.

There ARE ugly pressures, moreover, on a teacher. For an imaginary 'success' profile, the institute wants 'everybody' to pass. Even if the teacher may refuse, students at the border line are pushed to the next year by all the authorities concerned.

Parents these days are funny, too. They often over-indulge their ward who is arrogant, rude, ill-behaved, ignorant, and yet has an attitude! Such stupid students want teachers to be clowns who 'entertain' them! 

The teacher, especially if she/he is very good at the subject, has a knack for teaching, but is not 'political' in any senses of the term, is always rendered invisible. Hence the argument, as students, as teachers!

Pratima@The worst authorities are highly political, openly casteist, have a herd mentality, that is,want every one else to be minions in to their group, and are the worst at their subjects. Such people ruin both, the 'discipline' and the institutions.

 

Unity in Diversity

 Very soon would begin the month of Shravana in Maharashtra. Many people observe a number of "vrat" in this month. Often, these rituals mean restrictions on food/eating and drinking. On Ashadhi Amavasya, the last, the no-moon day of the month, people indulge in a splurge of non-veg parties with drinking binges that find them in the drains. The day is hence called "gatari amavsya", the no-moon day of rolling in the drains. 

Once the Shravan begins, there is no non-veg, no liquor. It is supposed to be a month of purification. There are "Satyanarayana puja" in the public sphere and in private spaces, that is, at home/in families. Many people would read a holy text, and so on.

Down south around the same time, though  slightly a little earlier, begins the month of Karkideyam. Throughout this month, in most all homes is read the "Ramayana".  So it is also known as "Ramayana Masam." A wonderful idea indeed to make the common man pious, rooted in his traditions, and by implication, a better player in the public sphere, given the ideal of Prabhu Ram.

In our country bursting at the edges with population, there is an urgent need of such a grounding. Due to such an empty hobby as reel-making  which gives a still more mediocre and hollow reputation (why, there are sites which write your books for you, which publish any empty verbosity as literature, and such people dare to call themselves 'authors'), the societal space has become extremely vacuous, and such corrections are truly the need of the hour!

Pratima@Gone case are the parents who choose to ignore such crass behaviour of their wards which one day is going to land them, the children, in solid trouble. But who cares? So long as people get their cheap high's, any weirdness is okay!

Truths transcending time!

 Do people read the classics? I am not so very sure. Forget the Sanskrit greats such as the plays and poems by Kalidasa, for instance. How about Shakespeare? Do you think people read him these days?

Well, honestly I do not think so. As for the post-graduate English literature students, mostly, they no longer depend on the Google either. It is all the A.l. stuff! As for the other type(s) of readers, this rather famous author in Marathi could be the role model. He has written a book on western literature. Every page therein is a very loud declaration, indubitable proof of the sad but obvious truth that he has not touched even with a barge pole any author, any text mentioned  in his book!

As for Shakespeare, this wonderful person invents a kiss in 'Hamlet' that the prince of Denmark shares with his mother! True, the play does have a latent Oedipal tension. Sure, however, there is no physical intimacy between the mother and her son. 

Forget such horrible anomalies which are botched up summaries. The common man should read the original texts of Shakespeare's plays because they are full of truths transcending time, that is, there is  useful advice, too. "Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none" can be an example. In very simple English, an important truth, " be generous, but trust wisely", is revealed. "Listen to many, speak to a few" is yet another example. And, yet, he makes fun often of such 'wise saws', too! Such a complex vision is the real gift great authors often share!

Pratima@Personally, I am against such a utilitarian attitude to literature which, in my opinion, is a unique aesthetic experience with ethical undertones wherein every word is a gem that shines with beauty and vision.

The Return of the Native

 Yes, sure, the title of our blog is directly borrowed from one of Thomas Hardy's superb  novels, and, undoubtedly, one of my favourite ones. Thomas Hardy IS a great novelist, and his novels can move the cynical most. I should know as I taught "Jude, the Obscure" to successive batches of M.A. students for whom "sub golmaal hai, bhai...", well, less said, the better! Yet the worldiest of them all was shaken to the core, and unaffectedly, that I can sure vouch for, when I related the Jude plight to the immediate Indian context.

Well, that is not our theme today. Let not the word 'native' in the title delude you the typical way either. No, our blog is not going to repeat the favourite rant these days against the "Macaulay putras/putris".

Rather, the title refers to Subhanshu Shukla's safe and sound return to terra firma after a brief stay at the International Space Station. For me, it IS one of those historic moments for us "natives" as we were dubbed by the colonisers. Yet again gets proven the fact that we are as good as our wor(l)d. Remember that cartoon when first we decided to fire satellites in to the space?

This return, precise, on time (unlike the much, much delayed return of the ABCD Sunita Williams from the ISS) proves that it might be a short stay for this astronaut, but it is a huge, giant, long visit of a native, to quote Neil  Armstrong the 'native' way. Hence the title, the re-turn of the native!

Pratima@While the whole nation cheered, tears flooded his mother's, and father's, eyes. Well, I do know this feel as my brother, a Merchant Navy Officer, would go on these looooong assignments. In those days without either satellite phones or the internet enabled communication, every letter posted weeks ago, reaching months later, meant much, a silent heart-felt prayer of thanks, and all the best wishes that no ocean could ever wash out!

Stress skills, too?!?

 However much you may try 'not to be', you have 'to be' on a few inevitable groups. Except for a very few and truly original ones that delight you, most message material is a re-send of re-hash received from other groups, right? 

Yet you do not mind looking it up if it is a video made of clips from an interview of Dr. Hiremath for "Amuk-Tamuk", especially as you may not be watching the 'to do' channel. Yes, interesting is this much re-sent clip. Dr. Hiremath discusses in it his own life which adds to the authenticity as well as sincerity of the stuff.

Dr. Hiremath, the famous cardiologist, narrates herein the story of how his father cured himself after a heart attack at fifty-two. The triune technique that the celebrated heart-specialist son continues to teach others is: proper diet, (right amount of) exercise and most importantly, de-stressing, off-loading/delegating responsibilities.

Though all the three matter much, in my opinion, the last one is the (he)art of heart (for that matter, any organ, why, the entire life itself) care. It is stress that kills. At times, though it might skill, too. 

I should know. Well, when I was absolutely all alone, on my own, in the dicey context (as absolutely anything life threatening can happen any moment there) in the mighty Himalayas, I was perfectly okay. No fever, no cold, no cough, stomach under total control.

Back at home, I fell ill, properly. High fever for the first few days (it took almost a week to subside), cough-n-cold that still continues, slight stomach upset. Yes, I have gulped down all the necessary medicines. Yet, I do think that the real reason why I thus fell ill is because I know subconsciously that help IS nearby. My brothers are just a call away though, of course, I have not bothered them except keeping them in the info loop. 

Stress, in other words, can skill, too. It need not always kill, right? May be, stress, which, possibly, gets self-regulated subconsciously, is a survival technique? Hope I get a chance (of course, not as a patient!) to unravel this mystery with the great cardiologist some day. Yet, right now, multiple self-observations in very many contexts, on very many occasions make me believe that stress can skill, too! 

Pratima@I did wonder though, I must confess, that, this time around, it must be the pure air in the Himalayas that saves one from illness. However much one may care for home, sweet home, Pune pollution leaves a lot to be desired, right?

Ah, yes, I need to read the Dean Penish book, too, that Dr. Hiremath refers to during the discussion.

Flash of a Fiction

 Flash fiction! No, nothing to do with the Texas floods. Rather, a unique narrative it indeed is! Creates a whole world with minimum words! Maximum impact with minimum prompts!

Let us begin with the most repeated/respected example, full of a sense of loss and grief, supposedly by Ernest Hemingway.

 "For Sale: Baby Shoes. Never used." 

Now Yours Truly is going to try her hand at a few examples, and in different genres!

1) The Suspense Thriller cum science fiction

"The only woman in the universe sat all alone in the space station. Suddenly, a 'Space-Ex' careened close, its gravitational pull all amiss."

2) The Terror Tale 

"Deep Trench. The fish feasted on her eyes. She woke up."

3) The Existential "Absurd" Tale

"Thunder and lightening. All was foul. On her fair cheek froze, forever, a tear. Like the South Sea pearl."

4) The Indian Writing in English

"It was the Ganesha Immersion Day. Holding the idol close to her chest, our youngest cried her heart out. At the doorstep, all the elders chuckled."

5) Historical Romance cum tragi-comedy

"Yes, dear, bring me the brightest diamond from India," shouted Mrs.Wicksham as John, her husband, stood at the deck of the departing ship. She wiped her tears with and blew her nose in the 'fairy hanky' he last got her from Africa. Luckily, she had managed to get it from Jack's room the night before."

Pratima@ Ah, yes, you must have noted the allusions, quite ironic though,  right?!!? That is what happens when a student of literature tries her hand at micro fiction. Oh, yes, these could be the beginnings of a proper tale or two, though not always with a moral, okay?

Forts as the Force

 Shivaji Maharaj is considered an ideal leader for very many reasons. It can, however, be argued that his forts, like his famous guerrilla technique, are the real force that strengthened his nascent kingdom.

These forts are built brilliantly in the rugged ranges of the Sahyadri. Not only can they be not seen/accessed from the foot of the high hills, but often they are also not visible/traversed unless one reaches quite near the main gate. As a result, they are extremely well guarded against the  main enemy then, the mighty Mughals spreading their tentacles in the South of India.

How they could have been constructed in those days without any cranes or crushers is itself a wonder. Yet they are perfect examples of both, a powerful military garrison, and a civil center for the families. From water storage to markets, they are brilliant examples of construction excellence.

The other two types of forts, those built on plains and those built to develop the seafaring might of the kingdom, especially against the foreign marauders, are also considered examples of the foresight and fortitude of Maharaj's astuteness as a ruler.

I have not visited either of these two types. I have hiked up a few of the hilly forts though. The sad decline of these marvels due to the ravages of time, the silly comments 'etched' on the ruins, the ugly use of these for vulgar parties by revellers, the resultant mounds of waste, especially of plastic, would hurt the sentiments of any sensitive and sensible person.

 The unmistakable encroachments and the extremely problematic religion-based politicking behind such built-up areas are, moreover, two more worrisome concerns.The ASI rules as well as the indifference of successive governments could be further deterrents behind the deterioration of these wonders. 

It is hence a great news to read that twelve of these forts are now UNESCO heritage sites. Both, the state and the central, governments deserve our heart-felt gratitude for this worldly (in possible senses of this term)  honour as the maintainance of these historic wonders would now be much better. These would now be world wide centers of attraction for both researchers as well as tourists which would be revenue sources as well.

Indeed, it is a truly nice feel that future generations would now meet these wonders not only in the pages of textbooks but also as present realities singing paeans to a great past!

Pratima@ Forts were a force behind the Maratha kingdom. Due to their being declared as UNESCO heritage sites, they would continue as a force in the future as well. Our forts, our pride!

Janiye kaisa tha woh kalakar jisko mila bhar bhar ke dedh sara pyar

 Remember that great song of grief, loss, disappointment seasoned with the disdain for the heartless and feckless world? Yes, from the title of our blog onwards, I am referring to that ultimate anthem of lost love, "jane woh kaise log the /jinke pyar ko.." Why so? Well, our blog today is a tribute to the great genius, Guru Dutt, whose unparalleled film "Pyasa" thus captures the desolation of a poet deserted by the wily world.

In this centenary year of his birth, Guru Dutt, celebrated the world over for his sensitive films such as "Pyasa" and "Kagaz ke Phool" that explore the loneliness of the abandoned-n-distant/distraught artist, deserves such a celebration. Indeed sad is the fact that this director, who gave us the first film noir with a finesse that was absolutely world-class, is not the talk of the town in 2025! Hope Modiji would read my blog, and, may be, a stamp is issued in Guru Dutt's honour!

I am a devout fan of the Guru Dutt oeuvre. Indeed what tremendous variety! He has to his credit the genre, pretty rare in Hindi films, the film noir like "Baazi", for instance. Yet this thoughtful and sensitive soul could direct breezy comedies, intense love triangles, the typical Bollywood types, but with a richness that was absolutely unparalleled. Remember "Aaar-Par", "Jaal", "Mr. and Mrs. 55", "Chaudhavi ka Chand", for instance?

His legacy, much admired abroad as well, is great because of his 'finds', too. It is only an extraordinary artist who recognises and celebrates others' talents. Be it Dev Anand as an actor/director, Abrar Alvi as a script-writer, V.K.Murthy as a cinematographer, Johnny Walker as a comedian-cum- support system of the lone-n-distant protagonist he himself personified, and, of course, Waheeda Rehman, one of our finest and most beautiful and graceful actresses. Oh, yes, ''Kagaz ke Phool" is the first cinemascope film in Bollywood. 

No wonder, the typical Bollywood bonanzas such as song-n-dance sequences come alive in his films that refuse to be the formula types. A trained dancer, this actor/director/author/cinematographer was a power-house of brilliant talent that expressed humane depth as well. So sad that he is not much remembered in his centenary year. He sure would have been hurt deep down though he would have exposed the worldly ruthlessness with yet another "ye duniya agar mil bhi jaye to kya hai?" Rest in peace, Sir, despite such "wakt ka sitam", because there ARE aficionados who may not be chatterati, but are cognescenti enough to admire deeply your superb contribution, the agony of a brilliantly talented but much ignored genius!

Pratima@ I wrote an analytical and detailed piece on "Pyasa" for the celebratory volume by the Hyderabad Film Club. Well, I did feel quite happy that the volume was released by his artist-sister, Lalita Lajmi, who sat next to me throughout the function, followed by a film screening.

 

Botching up with lies!

 Why is it that people lie through their teeth? See, I do not mind it if it is for their self-aggrandising. Sure, it could be to hide some weakness within. Psychologists often argue that those who hate themselves within would always boast a lot in public. It sure is sad. At least, it does not harm someone else, right?

The problem arises when lies are spouted to consciously  harm, displace, malign an innocent person just because that person's very presence is an indirect comment on your existence, right? Suppose, you are a teacher, and you are very poor, at best, are mediocre, at your subject. Moreover, you cannot speak well, that is, neither correctly nor effectively. 

In such a scenario, what should you be doing? Well, if you had an iota of conscience, you would work on your content, your hold over the language, right? Especially because anyways, you get both, a quite hefty salary and a long vacation very often, right? 

If, however, you were born and brought up without conscience, what would you do? Consciously create some ugly plan full of lies that can be easily exposed by even a child? Sad are the people who for their own selfish ends would, and do, help you!

Well, such sick dastards are present in institutions. May be, that is why institutions that once had a great name crumble!?! Much worse, such creeps could be the fulcrums of joint families whom they have in the past so obliged that their dishonourable lies are the word of law for the whole gang!

What should the victim do? For one thing, the victim should realise that subtle and in cahoots are the ways of such people. The nexus they weave is apparent, and yet is not exactly easy to prove. Hence the victim should be clean and innocent, but extremely wary because such mafia are very good at acting in a way whose cause-n-effect chain is obvious, yet difficult to establish.

The victim should, moreover, be wary of the past, present, future motives and endeavours of such hoodlums so that they cannot harm viciously, however much they would try, and in unison, through contacts, nearby and far afar.

Best of all, though, it is to believe in the fact that justice reigns supreme in this universe, and the vicious will be paid in their own coin sooner, and not later!

Pratima@The most important lesson that the victim must learn, however, is never ever to be like these perpetrators of subtly heinous crimes, never ever to botch up innocent realities with vicious lies!

Guru Purnima

 Every Guru Purnima, it is a very happy feel when students, whom one taught more than a decade earlier, too, make it a point to write (an extremely feel-good) message to me. Yes, one does try in one's own way to provide that much needed succour to the young souls, at times at a rather low, nadir point of their  (given the youth) emotional life.

That sense of gratitude is their goodness. From every batch, from each student I  meet, I, too, try to learn something special, something unique. In that sense, I am a firm believer in Dattaguru who could find a guru in everybody and everything.

Despite the kind messages by my students, I, do feel that "guru" is a nobler idea. A guru indeed gives a vision, opens our eyes to truth, right? A guru teaches you humility. At Mana village, for example, Ganesha himself is ready to accept dictation from a great  "Kavi", Guru Vyas. That humility, that grace, that perception are the real gifts of a guru.

Of course, Nature, in its multitudinous forms, too, is a guru.  The best Guru's are our parents, too. On this auspicious day, here is a deep bowing to all of them! 

Pratima@ Gurus, who are merely outwardly gurus, but lie, cheat, double-deal are an insult to the very concept, however much full of piety they pretend to be!

"You and your welfare and safety first"

 Yes, "You and your welfare and safety first". That was the feel of the braveheart, Baji Prabhu Deshpande. Some  three hundred and fifty years ago, in July 1660 to be precise, he fought utmost bravely and intelligently to save the life of Shivaji Maharaj, and in the process, the nascent Maratha kingdom.

In the Pavan Khind (a pass in the Western Ghats, then known as Ghode Khind), with his three hundred soldiers, he managed to finish off the wicked and wily plans of the mighty Moghuls, a troop of at least ten thousand. Why, he himself, even when his head was cut off treacherously, continued to fight off the enemy, and that, too, with two swords in two hands!

He fought the difficult battle most intelligently as well, with the special smart guerrilla technique associated with Shivaji Maharaj and his followers. Initially, hence, Shiva Kashid was sent off in a palaquin to hoodwink the enemies. In the meanwhile, the king was dispatched to the safety of Wishalgad, a fort nearby. Till he could hear the artillery blast indicating the safe arrival of his king at the fort, he, even his dead body, continued to fight and ward off the enemy away from his king.

What huge commitment, both for his king and the concept called "swarajya"! Well, in my opinion, in our lives, too, there is a Baji Prabhu who wards off every trouble in our way, and at the cost of his every, small to big, comfort. SURELY, in my life, there WAS one such superb individual. Yes, you guessed it right. My father!

 I do feel that our fathers are our Baji Prabhu Deshpande's! In fact, I wrote a poem to that effect. Our happiness, our comfort, our achieving our goals is all that matters to that unique individual. He can fight any battle, most heroically and in the most committed fashion so that the final victory is ours! No 'pass' can fail this Baji Prabhu in our individual lives. Every day is hence Fathers' Day in my opinion! 

Pratima@These days, there is an ugly and cheaply casteist reference to "Anajipant". Well, very important it is to remember his contribution, too, and far more necessary it is to never ever forget the very many Baji Prabhu's who adorned the reign of Maharaj!

Animals are the 'love'liest

 Have you watched that cutest and sweetest video from Thailand? Lek Chailert, the lady who initiated the "Save Elephants" movement there, has shared it. It seems that she took shelter under a mushroom shaped arbor as it started drizzling. She was singing along. The entire herd of elephants thronged the place, attracted by the sound. Fa Mai, a cow elephant, felt worried that Lek might get hurt, and kept protecting her with her trunk.

What a lovely, that is, both full of love and beautiful, gesture! What tremendous emotional intelligence and maturity! Most human beings completely and totally lack either of these emotions, eaten up as they are by competitiveness, one-up-man-ship, viciousness, cruelty, self-centered-ness, wickedness; oh, the list is endless! Why waste words on such negativities? Well, the wonder of wonders is that such beasts call poor animals names!

Let me give you another example. My brother has a beagle. As the breed is very cute and smart, everyone likes him a lot. Yet Tashu has a special fund, a great reserve, of love for me. When I go to my brother's place, his joy is unbounded. When I am about to leave, he stares most mournfully. With his nose jutting out of the grill of the balcony, he keeps on looking at me as long-n-far and as much as he can.

Well, for the five or six hours that I am there, he has to play with me. He is all the time hovering around, keeping me constantly in sight. Indeed, like children, animals understand and reciprocate the language of love, and that, too, without any expectations of any return gifts! No wonder, the very memory of that gentle, innocent visage is such a calming balm. Long live the love of animals!

Pratima@At Mana village in the "Devbhoomi", there is "swarg-rohini", the final path to heaven the Pandavas took. There are (rather garish, gaudy and glitzy golden) statues of all the Pandavas and Draupadi about to tread that path, the road of no return. Leading them all is the statue of a dog who, according to the legend, was the only one to accompany Dharmaraj till the end! Sure I remembered Tashu, Jimu, our dogs, and that friend of mine at Yamunotri. 'Dog', read the other way round, is 'god'!

Fare well, Weather

 Does the title of the blog surprise you? Well, 'fare' as a verb means to do, to behave. Let me give you an example. 'How did you fare in the exam?' means 'did you do well in the exam?'. If it is indeed the way the verb fares, the title must surprise you, right?

Well, I read a news item, and it did not fare well with me. It described the extremely bleak weather in the 'devbhoomi', Uttarakhand. Especially were mentioned the districts Chamoli, Rudraprayag, Tehri and Haridwar. It was stated that the rivers are in full spate, and there are landslides galore.

It indeed made my heart bleed. I have recently been there. As luck would have it, neither a drop of rain nor a single boulder from a landslide disturbed my journey. In fact, each one of these districts, despite all the corrosions, both natural and man-made, fared really well throughout my journey. 

Indescribable was their beauty. At every twist and turn that went in to the making of the narrow strip of the road, a newer and lovelier vista would open up. My mind, my vision, my imagination are filled to capacity with those lovely, truly divine visions. My ears can still hear both the gentle murmur and the giant roar of those rivers, tributaries of Bhagirathi/Ganges,  who were at times like a bubbly brook, at times a regular deep stream. Honestly, the mountains and the rivers really felt like friends, long lost but now forever united, eternally together.

It is hence difficult to read that thunderstorms, cloudbursts, boulders due to landslides are destroying that noble beauty full of divine peace. Sure, the climate there IS tough, quite a bully whose rough moods can change any nano second. Human beings, moreover, are adding their own  disturbances. Why, there are houses that are almost built mid-stream!

One knows all the causes. One regretfully accepts, too, that one cannot single-handedly do much to prevent the loss, and yet this mind of mine, this hurt heart, this seared soul of mine refuse to just read the news item, and clean forget it. The only supplication from the bottom of my being is to the Lord who SURELY listens to the fervent prayers, and protects all the wonders one genuinely cares for. Amen!

Pratima@ If such are my worries, imagine the tensions of people surviving there day in and day out. Real bravehearts!

Panduranga

 Panduranga, known as Vithoba in Prakrit Marathi, has been described, praised, venerated most beautifully by Marathi saints. Today let us look at his description by the great Adi Shankaracharya.

At Kedarnath, one of the most beautiful sights, besides the Kedarnath Temple itself and the Bheemshila protecting it beyond all rational explanations, is the Adi Shankaracharya Samadhi sthan. There is a lovely statue of this young monk who literally rejuvenated the moribund Vaidic "sanatana dharma".

Shankaracharya has written a beautiful stotra, a hymn so to say, praising and venerating Vitthala, that is, Panduranga. In his attempt to quail the in-fighting between the two major sects, that is, the Shaivaites and the Vaishnvaites, the arch philosopher of Advaita, calls Panduranga "parabramha lingam", and yet continues to praise him as an avatar of, a manifestation of Vishnu.

Actually, that is the real core of Vithoba's existence. The great Marathi saint, Dnyaneshwar, too, repeatedly presents him thus. The idol, mostly adorned with the Vishnurup, has a crown which has the typical Shiva iconography. Incidentally, in a way, in the Marathi folklore, he absorbs the form of the 'local' deity as well.

The great Shankaracharya praises Panduranga's divine beauty and grace, his captivating smile (which always lingers in his every pic which I get to see every morning as the Headmaster of Aai's school sends it as a token appreciation of the prize instituted in Aai's memory), his Krishna like bluish dark brilliance, his splendour comparable with the autumn moon.

There are lovely references to the jewels that add to the Lord's beauty. Why, the great Acharya refers to the beautiful flute the Lord plays, and whose lyrical melodious sweetness is repeatedly referred to in the Marathi bhakti poetry.  

More than that, Pandurang is "anandkand", that is, the root cause of bliss. The stotra does refer to the Pundarik legend. The core of the stotra, however, is the description of the Lord as "tribhangi", that is, the guide beyond the three doshas, of the three stages of dhyata, dheya, etc. 

Shankaracharya's Pandurang, however, is radically relevant because he explains the idol putting his hands on his waist. The great Acharya argues that this position signifies that the ocean of the world and its multiple ebbs and flows are merely up to the waist, and hence easily vincible. Thus this Lord, the supreme abode of Kaivalya, is the god of gods in this stotra that the Acharya wrote for his ailing mother. 

The lovely lilt of the melodious Sanskrit in the stotra adds to the divine praise in the sholkas which are simply unforgettable. Thus, Pandurang, the elder brother of Lord Venkatash at Tirupati, absolutely comes alive in this symphony of a stotra!

Pratima@In the Pandurang Stotra, we meet the "sagun", that is, the physical form, of the bramhan, that leads us towards the "nirgun", that is, the idea(s), the ideational realities!

Rituals

 Aai was from Pandharpur, while Papa was from Kolhapur. Like my brothers, I, too, am born in Pandharpur. I never ever forget the fact that as a baby, I must have been first put on the feet that were once touched by the great Shankaracharya, and my favourite most saint, Sant Dnyaneshwar. 

Hence watching the Vitthal Mahapuja in the morning wee hours of Ashadhi Ekadashi has been a ritual religiously followed since 2005 when I came to stay with Aai in our Mukund Nagar home. I used to wake up exactly at 2.30 a.m., wake Aai up, and if she wanted, make a cup of tea for her before the transmission of the puja began. 

 She used to watch on the t.v. the warkari procession from day one onwards. Hence watching this early morning maha pooja was a joy for her. I, too, love to watch it. That is what I did until just now.

Watching the poojari decorate the idols of Vithoba and Rukmini is a pleasure. In my opinion, it is a minor art. Look at the Rukmini idol. Making such a beautiful but small little idol wear a nauwari saree is indeed quite some skill. 

During the Navratra, Aai used to watch the entire evening aarti sequence of the Kolhapur Mahalaxmi. Indeed it is an art, this decking up the idol in a rich but holy way. Why, I like the way the priests apply the chandan/sandalwood paste to the idol's forehead, and stick the tulashi patra to the forehead of the idol. The idols literally come alive in a jiffy.

Sure it is anthropomorphism. It hardly matters to me though. I love the love of the devotees for the "sagun/sakar" murti which takes them to the "nirgun, nirakar." Without such touches, may be, theology would be truly  cut-n-dry, and beyond the common man. 

This morning, the Lord in bluish-purple tunic really looked like the "Dark God" Krishna whose manifestation he is. More about him in the blog tomorrow for Ashadhi Ekadashi.

Pratima@i cannot help watching the Kedarnath valley/temple at least for a few minutes every day. Today, the entire valley was diffused in dark clouds, like the Shiva himself, while Mandakini was roaring past, like the Bhagirathi from Shiva's locks.

Luckily July 5, the much predicted doomsday, is past without any destructive tsunami. Let it be so. Let nature's rituals not be harsh this year, or ever. Let the divinity continue to tolerate human frolics, foolishnesses, frivolousness fondly! 

Memories

 Once you have been to the Himalayas, you just cannot let go (of) the journey. The travel/travail continues to tug at your heart strings. Look at me. It is more than seven days that I am back from the Chardham Yatra. Yet every moment is still alive.

Why is it so? In my case, may be, it is due to illness. I am still not exactly okay. I was absolutely fine during those fourteen days. Now though, my body refuses to get back to normalcy. But it is not just the illness. 

Personally my opinion is that the journey continues to hold one in thrall because of the life threatening dangers one escaped due to sheer luck. I had decided that everyday I would spend a few minutes thinking of that travel. Well, I do not even have to look at any videos. The news every day is full of the Chardham Yatra.

Unfortunately, however, the news is always negative. The Yamunotri parents who lost their daughter in a split second to a landslide, the landslides at Janakichatti, at Gaurikund, at Sonprayag, the devotees complaining of the horse-wallahs, the terrible traffic jams sure to last hours on end, only wails and complaints one gets to hear whenever one tries to access the Chardham yatra news.

May be, hence, one cannot thank enough one's lucky stars that saved one from each one of these horrid terrifying horrors. At Yamunotri, there WAS a conscious attempt of the Indore variety. Even when I overcame it, there WERE conscious horse stampedes in the way of my pony. The incident at Kedarnath while waiting for  the special pooja, the Maan village incident, and many more, each time one felt as if people had accepted money for such unfair treatment, though it IS difficult, nay, almost impossible, to provide any proof for such bribing. Well, the company agent, who repeatedly said that 'everything is money game here' openly boasted that he "CAN reserve each and every palakhi in advance" if he so wished!

Just as I wonder at my own naivete in believing people, I cannot thank enough all that is Great, Good, Glorious in this infinite universe for making my journey so safe that storms, landslides, traffic jams, each and every thing that could go wrong, happened ONLY after I was happily and safely out of the venue.

Though such sad memories linger, they immediately vanish the moment one remembers the gorgeous Himalayas. My Himalayan journey was indeed a great, grand and gratifying success so much so that the minute I close my eyes, the beautiful sights/sites I captured moment by moment in my short term and long term memory re-emerge!

Beyond such sheer luck, what must be done to make the yatra memorable for everybody? First and foremost, the obvious corruption must be controlled. Shame on those who can be corrupt in such a scenario! Yet platitudes cannot be a genuine help in the real time world, right? The government must wake up to its duties. There have to be systemic changes.

First and foremost, there MUST be a control on the number of devotees allowed up the dangerous treks whose railings on the ravine sides must be rebuilt any number of times they break due to landslides, given the fragile ecology/geography of the region.

At the foot of, at the entrée point of all these divinities, strict government control must be exercised. Every 'yatri' going up must be identified, whichever mode (s)he chooses. The ghode-wallahs, the palakhi-wallahs, the pittu/kandi-wallahs who take the devotees up must be counted. The Aadhar cards of everybody up there in the mountain ranges must be with the authorities at the time they begin the trek up, and must be returned only when they return to that entry point. I am sure, such strict measures are taken for all the hiking/trekking expeditions, right? Why not here, too?

Thus the revellers who trek up for making reels/videos will be controlled.  People would know that there IS some check on, some observation of their behaviour. The moment the number is thus controlled, the narrow paths would stop being so dangerous. Should there be a very heavy entry fee? May be, yes. Thus, may be, people would stop thinking of "doing Kedar" et al as sheer time-pass!

The Himalayas are very young but very wise. The Divinity must not be tarnished due to irresponsible human behaviour!

Pratima@Unless such strict measures are put in to place, I WILL NOT recommend the Chardham Yatra to anyone 

Why not to eat?

 Just two days away from the Devshayani Aashadh Ekadashi on Sunday, tomorrow happens to be "Kande Navami". Beyond tomorrow, for four months, till Dev Diwali, we would not use either onions, brinjals, or garlic.

Aai was from Pandharpur. She felt rather strongly that the Chaturmas should be followed, and I always respected each of her opinions, every one of her structures/strictures. The tradition continues even now.

Why not to eat these veggies? In my opinion, the religious restrictions often are a way to avoid health hazards, especially according to the Ayurveda. These are the "tamasic" food items that alleviate the passions, it seems. It is believed that the "chaturmas" is health wise so unique that even the Lord goes off to sleep. So the "Devshayani Ekadashi". Hereafter, there is always a pillow behind the idol's nape!

I do not know enough, but onion, brinjal, and garlic increase the "vat" and the "kapha" "tatva" in the body which would be bothersome in the monsoon which, despite the global climate change, still happens to be from June to October.

Personally, I do not need such justifications. If a minor restriction honours the memory of my parents and their simple wishes, I have absolutely no issues following a practice! In a way, it sure adds finer contours to one's character, right?

Pratima@Restrictions are not a handcuff. Wherever we are, in the corporate office or in an academic space, we have to follow certain rules and regulations about our dress code, food patterns, et al. Why not follow them at home to please our elders in a simple way? Why not  not eat onions/garlic/brinjals for just four months, right?

Media Trial!

 I do know that this blog, risque in all senses of the term, may not exactly make me popular. Well, something within me says though, that it MUST be attempted. Yes, I am referring to the Sonam saga!

While it was getting unravelled, I was in the Himalayas. Hence the intensity of the danger,  may be, I can understand absolutely intimately. The treks and trails are so tough-n-dangerous that neither a supari-killer nor a pistol nor a hatchet is required, believe me, if you are keen on finishing off someone!

 Sure, many of the horrendous details of the case I would not know then. One IS quite cut off from such uglinesses, and, yes, one enjoys that grand feel the Himalayas provide in abundance, despite the obvious dangers constantly lurking around you everywhere!

Now, happily and safely back in Pune, with that story constantly being thrown in to one's face ( I am sure the frequency must be much less now!), I have been thinking 'through', rather than 'about', it. Nothing seems to make sense to me. Many, much much too many, doubts cloud my mind.

May be, I am too avid a reader of Sherlock Holmes and Hercule Poirot and Jane Marple and Vyomkesh Bakshi and Narayan Dharap, and types. Somehow though, it confuses me that the so-called double-dealer, the much vilified Sonam is not allowed a single word. It is all the police version, as reported by the media. Forget her legal denying it in the court.

Logically and/or psychologically, if she were indeed such a scheming vamp, would she commit such an obvious crime for which she clearly would be caught? Crime fiction tells us that she would be far more calculating, right? What possibly could be the motive which according to crime narratives drives the characters. NOTHING seems so very attractive about the so-called paramour, Raj, whose mother and sisters were crying their hearts out. They appeared very simple people, not possibly up to much artifice. Neither of the friends of either co-accused ever mentions any 'shadi'  and the 'second mangalsutra', et al 

Sure, I have not gotten in to all the finer details. The very contours of the roughly known narration appear very curious to me. Makes me wonder if "hawala" money or some business deals/interests etc is involved in the murder for which she is being scapegoated 

I find it equally curious that the dead husband is being projected as a saint, if not a god! His mother, unlike the so-called lover's poor mother, always appears on the screen with fancy danglers in her ears, and in good drapes! In the initial videos, she repeatedly says that punishment must be given to whosoever has done it! Indeed, is it business interests of either family that are the real culprits? Otherwise, the Oscar for excellent acting must go to Sonam this year.

Sure, it cannot be a love triangle. In many of the marriage videos, she appears very happy, participating actively in the rituals, too. That Raj fellow appears more an insignificant use-n-throw cog in the wheel, too. There IS something more to this mystery. Of course, I have not bothered to read the details, as I find the entire circus disgusting.

I think, the media are encroaching much too much in to private lives, and unthinkingly. With the tidbits thrown in by baseless gossip and the police, who, may be, want to keep their agenda under wraps, the media have already decided the plot, the culprits, the victim. Roles are too nicely-n-neatly distributed to appear authentic! 

Simple details like the dead body being carried away so far from the scene of crime, and that, too, in such a hilly terrain are difficult to unravel as the place has a proper secure bridge,too. Accountability and/or authenticity, in brief, does not seem to matter much to the media. Incidentally, the victim, too, was video-shot chatting with the perpetrators.

Without any fancy feminist positioning, one constantly gets the gnawing suspicion that there is something much more to this media trial. God alone knows what truths would tumble out during the actual court proceedings. Hope the media would report those aspects of their own current clumsy reporting of  scandal-mongering. They sure would, I suppose, but only if some other screaming headline were not to obsess them then.

Pratima@ Truth will be, and is, out, however much the powerful and the monied might try to push it under the carpet!

Doctors' Day

 July 1! A truly remarkable day indeed. Exactly half a year is already over. Time to hurry up, right? July 1 is important for yet another reason. It is the Doctors' Day. From the childhood period onwards, doctors are the 'bogeymen' of our lives. In every possible sense of the term. In most families, for instance, mothers quieten their unruly small ones with "keep quiet, eat this up, go off to sleep fast, etc, etc; otherwise, Doctor Uncle will give you a bitter medicine or a big injection or keep you in the hospital" etc etc. Despite this, they carry the weight of our health throughout our lives.

Being a doctor IS tough. Just look up the sheer size of 'Gray's Anatomy', and you would know what I mean. Want to do your B.A.M.S.? Get to know your Sanskrit real well in addition, okay? True, every academic discipline is tough. The NET JRF/SRF for English Literature, for example, had a success rate of exactly one per cent. Now, with the MCQ pattern, it is slightly better, that is, tops four per cent!

Yet, I would say that a doctor's life is far, far tougher. Unlike a C.A., who is 'playing' (in all senses of the term, and especially the negative ones) with numbers, a doctor is dealing with human lives. In a way, (s)he is learning and de-learning and re-learning every day, and on the job. Don't you believe me? Remember the COVID days? Much worse, try to forget the Mangeshkar Hospital frenzy circa March/April, 2025!

However much crazy jokes may laugh at doctors, they ARE indispensible in life/death situations. They alone can save us often. After parents, if there is any one who can give life, it is doctors. Sure, teachers/lecturers, too, do so at many, many stages of our lives. Even then, no comparison at all with doctors' absolute yeoman services.

Are not there mal-practices in the medical field? Of course, there are! 'Cuts' of all sizes, real to figurative, exist in this field, too. There are many reasons behind such ugly stories, and none of these is justifiable either. Yet, a sincere, a genuine doctor, like a committed teacher, can alone save you, and in the process, (s)he alone can heal both your mind and body.

May be, hence the regret for the sad decline of that wonderful institution called 'family doctor'. Often, patients literally considered them gods incarnate. Faith, anyways, is a great healer. In today's world of super-specialisations and corporate hospital culture, 'doctor uncle' is almost a fairy tale. Believe me, it existed!

Aai wanted me to be a doctor. Once, as a twelve year old, I had painlessly managed to get out a cockroach that had entered her ear canal, following the flower string she was wearing while asleep. She was confident I would make a very good doctor. Her local doctor, too, always said that I have all the makings of a good doctor. Well, during the last decade of her life, I was her caregiver, a close assistant of all her doctors, and now a full-fledged doctor for myself. She has thus saved me all those huge medical bills. Oh, yes, I WILL be a practising doctor, at least of alternative therapy. For sure. Here is wishing myself all the best!

Pratima@Since precision matters when it comes to being a doctor, please note that it is "Doctors' Day", a generic reference, and NOT "doctor's day", an individual indicator. Happy Doctors' Day yet again!

A sincere C.A., too, can be the doctor of the financial health of a family, whether individual or business. May their tribe grow, as Leigh Hunt said of Abou Ben Adham, a genuine, selfless philanthropist!

Multiple Intelligences

 When one treks a difficult route even in the outer Himalayas whose peaks seem to literally scratch the skies, one knows the importance of spatial intelligence. The unpaved road is very narrow, extremely slippery, what with the heavy rains the day before and the horse dung. One false step, and finding the dead body, too, would be impossible. The ravines are craggy, unbelievably deep, and there are wild animals. 

Forget the devotees who have to manage themselves. Look at the kandi-wallahs and/or pittu-wallahs. They carry heavy luggage,  human beings in a cane basket. It has a thick strap made of rayon and cloth. So they are managing their own, the kandi's and the sawari's weight on such a trek. These Nepali Gorakha guys are mostly uneducated. I met one in Mana village who was a B.Sc., had worked in Dubai, too. That is rare. Given the high rate of unemployment in Nepal, they take up this difficult job, unfortunately one of the best examples of spatial intelligence.

Here, safe in Pune, we might associate it with dance. Either way, spatial intelligence proves that there are very many types of intelligences.  Basically, 'intelligence' etymologically is made of the Greek roots  'inter' and 'legere', and the concept means 'to understand', 'to perceive.'

There are very many ways of this understanding, not merely rational, as is accepted these days. There can be emotional, visual, auditory, tactile intelligences, for example, and these can help in various professions.  Auditory intelligence may help a singer and an artist who plays a musical instrument, be it guitar or santoor. Visual intelligence may help a graphic designer, for instance.

Emotional intelligence, the ability to empathise with others, may help in every field, right? If you are a doctor, for example, your patients would love you as is the case of Dr.Imran Patel of Ahmedabad, a paediatrician, whose youtube videos prove amply and most amiably how to vaccinate babies without making them cry a single tear! Simple sweet and adorable are his videos of the cute vaccination. So would e.q. help a teacher.

May be, developing as many varied intelligences would be the best way to overcome the threat posed by the AI! What say?

Pratima@ The shrewd and the manipulative may use emotional sharpness, like they can the body language, too, to beguile others. One must hence learn all such techniques to guard oneself against subtle harassment, right? 

Reg the weird call

 I tried reporting the weird call by the so-called, obviously fake, TRAI to 1930 as it was clear it was a hoax call. 

The response was very patronising. So I have reported the matter to higher authorities, with a willingness to share the recording of the hoax call. 

I am trying to report it to the gov.in@ chakshu.

Better to take immediate action so that the mobile number 91-8292589607 does not bother others, right?

Weird call

 Just now I got a weird call which I immediately recorded (the person was confused when I told her that I am recording it) that there are illegal activities from my phone call (now on the Kesari yatra, God alone knows who would have shared my number, right?) , and within two hours, my phone would be switched off. 

Well, is it due to my status today? It must have rattled some?!? Oh, yes, I kept the door closed till 10.30 a m. because it was cold. There were voices worrying if I was awake/what! Poor souls! 

She was asking me my name which would be obvious to TRAI, right? I am immediately forwarding the recording to the Departments concerned. 

So, you all know what to expect if my phone closed within two hours! 

Well, actually, there is an online seminar from a well-known platform this evening. I AM trying to get back to the pre-Yatra life ASAP! Well, the two hours threat!🤣

Oh, yes, in that weird call, both by the TRAI and to the 1930, I could hear "bhaji" of a street vendor who frequents our lane! Cheap characters! Is the TRAI made of such good-for-nothing cheapi's!!! Poor Modiji and his constant attempt to improve India! Such creeps call themselves citizens! Should be heavily penalized! Have no right to live, surely as independent indians as they unnecessarily bother others!

Pratima@Threats cannot terrorise the clean and the innocent. The crooked should know!

Stampedes

 The road to Kedarnath at Gaurikund, before the actual trek begins, is unbelievably narrow.  Three people cannot really walk side by side. On both the sides are small to big shops and hotels.  The horse-wallahs, one per horse, the doli-wallhs,  four per doli, the pittu-wallas, one per pittu are pushing/squashing their respective clientele on to and/or in to the concerned vehicle. As the clients are mostly unused to such vehicles, their awkwardness adds to the chaos. 

All along a stream of devotees is walking, their backpacks, et al, adding to the congestion! On the way up to Kedarnath, the lead doli-wallah, a young man in his very early twenties told me that this was NOTHING. When the "kapat" opened, he said, the crowd was such that everybody's feet was literally interlocked with someone else's.  Wonder of wonders, stampedes have not so far ruined the dignity of the place. 

When it comes to the 'VIP' Pooja at either Kedarnath or Badrinath, there is terrible pull-n-push by the poojari who are simultaneously invoking the Lord through shlokas and his devotees through angry commands to move on. Some of them refuse to, then literally the army men pull them away by the scruff! Imagine what the scenario must be when it comes to the non-VIP darshan.

The scenario is no different in the Pandharpur Vitthal Gabhara or the entry in to the Tirupati temple in the sanctum sanctorum. There is terrible spatial congestion, each devotee wishing to spend at least a minute there, the administration cruelly pushing them past. Fights, falls, full blast (in)human drama!

Why are there always stampede tragedies? Who is to blame? The excited but unruly hoards and hoards of devotees? The poojari's? The temple administration? The fame and name of a place? The last one I would not agree with because every local Mahadev temple, for example, follows the same pattern of near-stampede on every Shravan Somwar.  

I think, we MUST teach ourselves discipline and civic sense. There should be a proper row, no VIP darshan, one person at a time for a second, all that is to be offered to the Lord directly either at the platform by the administration or in the hands of the poojari, both of whom do the needful in the most disciplined way, and then hopefully the near-stampede possibility would be avoided.

Our temples are great. We Must avoid unruly and unclean behaviour. Neither stampedes nor dirty filth, absolutely the human contribution, and clearly the sore spots in a pilgrimage, can ruin their grandeur or holiness!

Pratima@Civic sense, discipline, cleanliness are the plinth of piety.

How to understand?

 Why do people behave the weird way they do? However much, and quite in depth,  psychology/philosophy/sociology you may study, however many great literary texts one may analyse, it is impossible to understand the crooked mindset of weird people.

No, no, I am not talking of Sonam (about the entire case, I have my own doubts though) or Poonam, hellbent on killing husbands for an absolute third-rate "lover" and/or "boy", though these days, it APPEARS absolutely difficult to decide in whom one such character is hiding! 

I mean the "malignancy" of the Iago-like viciousness of the equally straightfaced people. Let me give you a few concrete examples.

When Aai was really ill, literally in the throes of her last days (I remember it was a Mahashivratri, a holiday, so it has to be mid-March. She passed away on March 26.) two of Aai's relatives came to 'see' her. For whatever was the reason which I do not remember, Aai's Mavashi did not choose to come on that day. I had completed all of Aai's bodily cleaning up, etc. Those days, she had to be tube-fed. Thrice I had managed that as well.

Our comparatively small little living room had to be completely re-organised those days so that the 'typical patient bed' can be adjusted. Accordingly, the furniture was re-organised. In addition to the inexplicably 'joke-y' behaviour, the ladies were insistent, almost pushing me aside in a c(h)atty way, so that they could go to our kitchen. 

Well, I do keep my house in order. Even if, let us imagine, I do not, that surely was not the time to check up on my housekeeping skills, right? I have never ever done so for either of them, or anybody for that matter. I found the subtle crassness of that despicable insistence inexplicable! Incidentally, did they even once, at least offer to, forget actually, help me in any small/big way? Nope! Never ever at all, not even once!

I have another so-called close (the behaviour is always to make me feel as distant as is possible!) relative. Though i cannot even dare to think of going to their house, expect for a few hours, that, too, on designated occasions, SHE ALWAYS comes unannounced as if to tap/trap something. I always lock the main gate from inside, and keep the key at times in the kitchen. This lady would walk in, and directly go to the back door! One wondered what she would be checking/inspecting on. At times, one feels like telling such people not to judge other innocent people according to their own dishy/dicey behaviour patterns!

 Once I was returning from college. As I travel on buses, I always keep the mobile in the inner pocket of my purse. So I had no way of knowing that she was at the gate. She stays some twelve kilometres away from our place. But, it seems, she always (till that day I did not even know it!) buys her grocery from a Marwari shop near our place.

 She snapped at me that twice she came to the gate which was locked. She knew my college timings. She could have come later, right, to buy her groceries from that very particular shop? Or if she had informed me at least once in the morning, I would have come home in an auto!

When the Dandekar Bridge deluge happened, this curious person repeatedly phoned (in detail) the Mavashi (Mavashi herself told me so repeatedly! I refused to respond!) all the washing away of houses there, knowing fully well that the Mavashi stays in that area. Not even once was there a call or message to me! Luckily for me, that Mavashi's house was nowhere in the vicinity. So she did not choose to go back. I got to know at about 2.30 p.m. I rushed back in an auto. So Aai was luckily not left all alone. I have never understood the weird behaviour though.

Countless, literally countless, examples of such ridiculous meanness, but with a poker face, can be narrated. Each time, one tries to justify it according to some higher principle, though in one's soul, one knows very well the ugliness of it all. Once I cut my finger, and there was some blood. While chit-chatting on the phone, Aai told this lady so. She was expecting, God alone knows what. When she rushed in an auto, quivering with expectations, I was quietly cleaning flower beds in our small garden. I can never forget her fallen face. 

What could be the problem of such people? Why do they behave so? I always choose to keep quiet because any other alternative behaviour is not worth it. But sure does it bother a little! Anyways, I always wapp-message both my brothers about every activity, movement, departure/return of mine (even in the city if it is beyond 7 p.m.) in detail, and in advance. Moreover, wherever I go, there are always many, many people, and much worse for such cheapies, countless cameras.

Indeed why do these strange people behave in such ugly ways? For one thing, they must think that everybody else is like them, duplicitous, dicey. It would not hence occur to them that there can be clean, straightforward people who, having once known/recognised/understood them, would rather maintain a distance so as not to descend down to their level!  

But, at times, one does wonder if such horrendous, especially because subtle, but crass, loud and rude meanness is to harass you consciously/knowingly, to spread ugly rumours through half truths, to crush you so that such characters alone appear great! Well, who stands in their way? Surely not me! My path is never so narrow nor vicious!

Pratima@So disturbed I feel that I cannot even eat a morsel. I do not think God should be invoked for such people. But if he exists at all, he, too, sure would find such knowing cruelties, well, un-godly. Oh, yes, why give a bad name to the poor Devil, right?

P.S. When a patient can not hear well nor read often, the caretaker is in tough trouble about how to communicate. Curious Peeping Toms of all genders are, of course, free to imagine whatever their weird, ugly, cheap imaginations fancy!

On the "trip", there were two ladies who were so badly screaming, screeching, shouting, mockingly, ill-treating their very old, ill parents! Some blessings indeed! 

Ignoring crookedness completely is the best solution in my opinion. But for how long? Does one's tolerance get interpreted as stupid submissiveness by the shrewd and the manipulative?

In our lane, there are always these goonda types making loud comments about what God alone knows, because who cares to listen to such creeps? They do, however, appear to be paid to create that ruckus day in and day out. How one wishes one knew some really top brass in the police to round up such disturbing riff-raff.

Ill

 Why does one always fall ill after every major event? Well, look at me. I was absolutely okay during that arduous journey. Now, back in Pune, with brothers within a "call" distance, why am I down? 

Yes, I have got a slight fever, a rather bad cough-n-cold, and the tummy is growling a bit, too. Was I up to any excesses during the yatra? None, whatsoever. Unlike others who were literally wolfing down stuff, I ate minimally which anyways I always do. 

May be, it is the very cold wind on the banks of Alaknanda during the  "tarpan vidhi" at Badrinath.  After a head bath with boiling hot waters from the hot springs followed by the splashing of the gushing Alaknanda in full swing, may be, all the phlegm hiding in every possible alveoli chooses to come out, I suppose.

Well, that is the logical, the rational explanation.  Personally I think/feel that the phenomenon is more psychological. Let me see if I can explain myself. Well, for one thing, while busy with the 'act', be it a difficult travel, a ceremony at home, a prep for a decisive exam, one is on the alert mode. Everything is ordered, structured, in THE perfect mode. Post completion, there is chaos as the need for that perfect control is temporarily suspended. Right now, around me, for example, is a clutter of clothes, knick-knacks taken out of the travel bag, and yet to reach their usual destined place. May be, that lull after all that commotion is the switch on for all the tensions, hidden even from one's own self, reflected the (psycho)somatic way.

Yet another possible reason could be that the completion creates a vaccum. Till that point, one was preoccupied with the minutest detail, and in an almost obsessive way so that nothing should, as far as is possible, go wrong. Now, suddenly, there is NOTHING to care for, to worry over/about. Hence the illness? Remember, the day the exam got over, what with a week of the last minute check-up for writing two papers per day, one just could not sleep a wink, though throughout the week, you had been telling yourself that you would sleep endlessly after the exam?

I think, the body, the mind, the soul need a much deserved rest after the hectic activity. Rather like the restful death after life's long  journey is done!

So, bye for the time being! I think, I shall rest awhile.

Pratima@Every end is a new beginning.

The First Day

 Yes, it is the first day, finally back at home! After a rather tiring journey during which every possibility of each danger lurks at every corner, and surely at the back of your mind. In a way, everything that can possibly go wrong happened during the 'yatra'. Thankfully though, all that is good in this universe made it happen just a little later. 

My 'eventful' Yamunotri trek ended, and it started to start rain very, very, truly heavily. I felt immense pity for all the families with kids whom I had seen going up while I was trekking down. Well, the Himalayan rains are unbelievably heavy, much worse than the cloudburst that happened in Pune in the evening of June 12. Luckily, that day, too, the taps in the sky chose to stop/close at 11 p.m.ish. 

I had hence no trouble reaching the airport where I had to wait which was okay. Yet again was I saved from the terrific rain. After trekking down from Kedarnath, I reached the hotel, and the rains began. The thunderstorm was so bad that the next morning there were reports about a huge landslide at Gaurikund, the very first gateway to the Kedarnath temple. 

Well, the authorities would have managed to clear it up, but it must have been difficult for the next batch ready to leave the hotel. Similarly, the only traffic jam, not a very bad one either, too, happened while returning from Badrinath. 

All this luck, I believe, is proof that one is saved, supported, succoured by all that is good, just, noble in this universe if one is absolutely pure, clean, innocent in every which way.

With that faith and the lovely memories of the grand Himalayas, life begins anew!

Pratima@Given the first day of the Ashadh, inevitable is the remembrance of the great poet and dramatist, Kalidasa, whose works, too, have lovely descriptions of the "Nagadhiraj", that is, the "emperor of mountains", the Himalaya.

Yatra, ahoy!

 What do you expect when you want to trek all the way up to Kedarnath? Be it, for that matter, Kedarnath, Yamunotri, extremely tough treks, though Gangotri and Badrinath are slightly less arduous? I do not believe in religiosity at all. Yet I would say that this journey has to have a certain gravitas. Surely, it cannot be a picnic where you 'enjoy', satiate all your senses, right?

Right now, however, everyone has made the whole of it in to a 'trip', a picnic,  though they will not admit it even to themselves. At the four sites themselves, there is utter chaos as most "devotees" are busy filming themselves, that is to say, they are making reels, they are video-shooting, they are taking selfies, rather than experiencing the unique feel, the special moment.  

I would not know what others would think, but, for sure, personally I would not require plush hotels with plum rooms, and dozens of items for breakfast to dinner, not to mention the constant eats all along. I would look for a safe, secure place with minimum basic necessities, right? Nor would I be in to constant joking, talking and yaking and yaking, shrieking as shrilly as possible to prove how one is unique and special, bragging all the time about the places one has managed to visit all over the world, okay? If a 'yatra', a pilgrimage, cannot make you either humble or serious, it is a sheer waste of money, right?

How should be the tour leader? I was truly grateful to mine when he hand-held me for some fifteen extremely difficult steps at Rishikesh. I personally told him so, too. Equally did I thank anybody and everybody who helped me even in the smallest way because I genuinely believe that a holy trek has to be genuine in both, the purpose behind it, and the actual execution of it. 

Well, at the Yamunotri, just because I thought I would rather use a horse (as I was very uncomfortable with the notion of using human labour, a 'doli' or a 'pittu', a notion I had to negotiate as I realised that the labourers were ready to work hard to earn their livelihood, instead of begging! Luckily, moreover, I am not terribly heavy. I was ready to walk along in difficult patches even when they are literally fleet-footed), I was literally singled out in a terrible way. I was made to ride all alone, on a mobike with a stranger, supposedly the horse-wallah, who then suddenly put me in to a pittu, and simply did the vanishing trick!!! 

Absolutely all alone at an unknown place, I was at a loss for a few minutes. Then I approached an officer who initially tried to throw his weight about. Soon he arranged a horse for me which was a pony with a young lad in his late teens as the person guiding the horse. I managed a rapport with both,  the horse and his owner. Incidentally, he was a Hindu lad, while the original guy whose credentials were extremely unknown (those riding a doli were given an I-card, while I had none!) was a Muslim. 

Without any religious prejudices, which I honestly do not believe in at all, I felt as if I was at the receiving end of an Indore treatment! Why, how, I am at a loss to know at all. Again and again throughout the ride to and fro the shrine, horses were made to stampede in the route of my pony. One felt as if there WAS almost a plan to make me fall! Two who fell in the deep ravines the very next day are still missing!

What I felt funny about was a lady on the same 'trip' laughing it off, amusedly hiding behind her meagre chunni, near the Yamunotri temple. There was not any credi(ta)ble explanation forthcoming, while others sniggered, of course, behind his back, that when  I insisted on the horse in an innocent way, I was unknowingly reducing the amount of  his "cut" with the doli-wallahs. I would rather like to disbelieve such an ugly suggestion! But then I am always bad at guessing/interpreting the ways of the world, however brilliantly I might analyse Congreve's play!

His utterly fallen face could be his sense of regret. May be! Yet another instance was my fast on June 21, in memory of Papa. I had informed months in advance. I also insisted that I carried the potato savouries, dry fruits from home itself. Yet some tasteless potato chips were served, and I was told not to eat up everything!!! Crazy if such awful responses are supposed to be 'fun'. Nobody has any business to mock at another's remembrances, right?

Yet again, at Kedarnath, there was this special pooja after 10 p.m. I had specifically asked the tour leader where I should wait it out. I followed his instructions to the t, even when the guruji he had hired asked me to wait somewhere else, actually near the hotel which he owned, too. I informed the tour leader yet again that I use the Idea network which does not work there! Sure I did not know this stuff earlier. Otherwise  I would have gotten myself a temporary Jio membership! I waited in that horribly crowded area for minutes on end, checked everywhere, could not find him. Finally I requested a stranger to call him up. He would not even pick up the call. At last, somehow I was located, and the whole adventure was treated as "okay!" stuff with a shrug!

Really unexplainable, truly inexplicable was the behaviour at Mana village. I had to negotiate the pittu rates myself. Of course, others did suggest that the bother was not taken seriously as he could not get a cut. Well, I cannot be so cynical!

But he, the cleaner, the driver, the trio suddenly decided to park the vehicle somewhere else. All the three, otherwise calling themselves "mushtanday" (ageism was terribly rampant on this 'trip'! Equally conveniently it was forgotten that I was charged more for a single room!) were enjoying themselves. I called up thrice, plus once more from.a stranger's mobile). No specific location was indicated. The bus was actually parked somewhere else. I waited near the spot where we were initially dropped. When a couple from the 'tour', who, too, was not able to locate the bus, came along at the spot, I joined them. Extremely insensitive and arrogant was the response! This time I decided to speak up my mind. I was told not to disturb the mood of the 'tour'!

I think, the ultimate power that controls this big ( and bad) business called the big (but bad) world had an extremely bénéficient attitude towards me. So I must, and sure would, make genuine, deep and creatively worthy contributions literally every minute every which way!

Pratima@Not even a drop of the terrible Himalayan rains, neither the falling avalanches would destroy my  yatra. All these horrible calamities happened immediately after my pilgrimage of the place was completed truly  in a divine way. Only once was there a small little traffic jam, compared to the horrible ones lasting hours on end. The traffic jam, too, happened after returning from Badrinath. 

 I am back home, safe and sound, and in one piece. Cannot thank enough my parents whose memory was my eternal protection! Jay Chardham!

Of Rivers

 Rivers in a way are the real mothers of civilization. This truth, universally acknowledged, appears absolutely validated, while sitting on the banks of the great Ganges, awaiting all along  the famed "aarti".

Actually, the Ganges, beginning as Bhagirathi, is always with you when you promise yourself the Chardham yatra. At Gangotri, she is so ferocious that you completely believe the myth of the Shankara's head/his "three jata" being necessary to control her.

All along the way, she is with us, through different confluences with very many of her tributaries. Many natural waterfalls join her along the way. She is constantly jumping downwards, what with the force of gravity. All along, she is cutting the Himalayan rocks in to different sizes, at times jumping over them, at times brushing forcefully against them, at times, carrying them with her.

Till she reaches with you to Rishikesh, she is bouncy, rapidly jumping with glee, absolutely without much depth, tops five or six feet, making a huge noise proving the adage, "shallow waters make the most noise". 

Sure, unlike stupid human beings with an agenda and hence constantly shrieking like mad, her bounce has a sweet music of her own. Her tributaries add a lilt and a colour of their own. 

The problem starts with human beings beginning to intervene. The dams on the way, whether huge or just small turbines, do all sorts of things to the flow of hers/her tributaries. She slows down, much worse, she begins to get absolutely dirty.  All along her banks, till the utmost edge of the embankment, there are human structures. Naturally, plastic  water bottles to residues of all sorts add dirt to her, not to mention the refuse of all sorts.

A look at her at Haridwar, especially as you await the spectacle of the evening Aarti, she is sheer filth. At Rishikesh, at least there is depth to her. May be, not the eighty feet you are told she has so as to avoid the promised boat ride! But, yes, the depth keeps her cleaner.

But at Haridwar, her rich resources as a water body that could greatly provide riparian farm produces are made in to a motor stand! It is filled with filth, and the worst of human refuge. The road to the aarti stand shows how the holiness and purity of the Ganges are completely destroyed by the human beings who use her for sustenance in ways that are genuinely ugly, dirty and filthy. On both the sides of the narrow clock tower bridge, there is just sheer dirtiness of the worst variety. 

During the aarti, the ghats are full of plastic sheets people use so that their clothes do not get wet. Nobody bothers to put them in to the garbage bag. Noteworthy by absence are the employees, making earlier a great show of pushing the dirtiest bank water in to the flow so that they can get their tips! 

People are swimming in that very water, making it dirtier still. The beggars make the entire scenario as filthy as possible. There are the "bum bhole" drunkards and/or those 'high' on all sorts! All sorts of shops dot the banks. They might create some wealth for the small time shopkeepers! Who would care in such a scenario for small boys standing in the freezing water, making marks/tilaks on the foreheads of devotees who wait for the spectacle, while haggling over the marginal profit these kids might be making. The Ganges continues to flow!

Pratima@Everybody must respect the Ganges and not make the water turbid in any way. The government, too, should keep strict vigilance!

God(')s Reside(nce)

 Where is God's residence? Where indeed do gods reside? In temples? These structures are man-made though. Extremely beautiful, with rich patterns that convey superb significations symbolically, most temples are a tribute more to the glory of human artifice, ah, yes, to creativity which sure is infinite.

Do gods reside in rituals? Well, yes and no! These rituals have been performed by millions before us, and will continue to be performed by zillions after us. Most often, moreover, they are a show-off of one's wealth, oftener ill-gotten. Much much more worse, the rituals are an exhibition of piety! Disgusting it is to watch the race to prove how much more religious one is! Pathetic are such shows.  Gods possibly cannot reside in religiosity, right?

Where indeed do gods reside? For sure in the magnificence of nature! The grandeur makes you wonder about the primal cause that crafted and continues to care for this infinite universe with its uncountable varieties. Whatever is this power, that holds a Jyotirmath together despite dastardly human interventions, it continues to care for a birdie that nestles in a frost bitten tree!

Who initiated this infinite universe? One knows all the answers, the counters to it, provided by Physics, by astronomy.  Yet the refrain continues to be "neti, neti". No, this is not it. 

Indeed where do gods reside? In the human heart? But how can there be any godliness in people who cheat, lie every minute through the teeth, are unnecessarily  mean and nasty and full of duplicities, ill-treat others unfortunate enough to be relatives due to the unfortunate fact of birth, cannot stand up to truth, are crazed due to ephemeral things such as wealth, whichever way gotten!!!

Can gods reside in charity? Well, yet again, yes and no! Remember the poem "Abou ben Adhem" whose tribe the poet, Leigh Hunt, wanted to increase? Sure, charity is go(o)d. Often though, it is downright self-indulgent sympathy, rather than genuine empathy. Those who receive charity, moreover, are greedy and deceptive, while those who indulge in it are white-washing their ill deeds, and gaining, moreover, power through it!

Where do gods reside indeed, if beyond  these age-old, traditional negativities? May be, in being wiser, and not merely knowledgeable, by the day? In self-reflexivity? In constantly re-fine-ing oneself? May be, only then can the philosophies of "tat tvam asi" and "ahm bramha asmi" would mean much!

Pratima@ I suppose, go(o)dliness may consist of living the life one has to face with grace, dignity and courage, in finding wise answers to impossible questions. The Himalayas sure tell you this moral of the tale!

 

Mountains are magic!

 Nature itself is a sorcerer. Any, literally any form, every mode of, nature is unique. It is sheer magic. It is hence but natural that not only the butterfly but even a worm, too, is unique, special, and, oh, yes, has a beautiful pattern.

No wonder, mountains, one of the mightiest forms of nature are not merely majestic; they are magical, too. Like the sea. Both are magnificent. Both have varied forms. Hillocks that dot the skyline of a city to a high-rise, sky-scrapping peak, mountains meet in multiple varieties.

Each one is unique. Every one is special. A Puneite, who stays near Swargate, swears by Parvati, while the witchery of the Vetal Tekdi allures the trendy Poona-wallah's of the Prabhat Road, S.B. Road types. 

Yet nothing, no personal priorities, no individual preferences, no private partialities can blind anyone when it comes to the majesty of the Himalayas.  Every nook, each corner of the narrow road opens up vistas that are 'visions' in every sense of the term. 

Here you wander lonely with the wispy clouds. These clouds are with you, around you, above you, below you, behind you, in front of you! Use any adverb of place, in brief. They would not fail you. Their misty presence adds a unique charm to the mountains.  At times, the diaphanous clouds hide the roughness of the craggy edges, softening them in to magical beauties. Like Cindrella's magic glass slippers! In this fairy tale though, there is no vicious midnight alarm. Instead, these princely patterns allow the peeping sun to add a unique golden glaze to each edge, every slope.

Be it the magical mist or be it the bubbling streams, nothing about these huge presences is threatening or frightening. Forever inviting, theirs  is a very protective presence. Their very Rishi like presence is meditative. They invite you to be free, to be imaginative, to be poetic. Moutains are beyond  boundaries. Not to be contained in any way. Mountains are magic!

Pratima@ Am traversing through the Chamoli region where every curve of  the narrow road brings you face to face with a dream(y) view! Wish that human interventions, interferences, impositions will not destruct these eternal  abodes of beauty, peace, and PRESENCE!

The Unique Day

 June 21 is indeed special. Both in the public sphere and in the private space. Let me explain why-n-how.

First and foremost, June 21 is the summer solstice day. What does that mean? It means that the Northern hemisphere of the earth is tilted towards the sun. Hence it is the longest day and the shortest night of the year.

On this summer solstice day is celebrated the Yoga day in various ways. At least on the wapp group, that is, while watching reels, if not in real life, everybody turns in to a Yoga fan. I suppose, it is absolutely necesary to remind ourselves that Yoga is not merely physical exercise. It is a mental mode. It is a way of life actually. Given the consumerism that envelops existence today, it is but natural that "yoga", too, is a saleable item, and world wide.

June 21 is the world music day, too. Music is the fulcrum of our life. Why, our hearts beat to a proper particular rhythm. No wonder, from the childhood lullaby to any and every form of music enjoyed during the adult life,  music makes magic. Why, even rap, the form that appears the easiest to any and every street smartie, has a unique beat that sure has a calming effect on those individuals. No wonder, music is medicine; music is meditation; music is magnetic. Music, folk to formal/classical, is magic!

Now, the private space. June 21 is Papa's death anniversary. He loved music. He enjoyed the sincere discipline and meditation that underlie yoga. He made meaningful use of every minute. So every day was in a way, the summer solstice day for him. Here is a sincere tribute to his memory! 

Pratima@Each day matters; but some days mean much more!

What goes wrong?

 Actually, the completion of the Kedarnath trek is indeed by God's grace. Anything and everything could go wrong. Sure, the Yamunotri trek is tougher still, steep climb as it is. The road winds and winds to eternity. Each turn leads to another still steeper, still more difficult. It is hardly twelve kilometres both ways, but it appears literally hundreds.

As for Kedarnath, practically everything could  go wrong. First and foremost, it is the climate, the weather. It is absolutely ephemeral. Can change faster than even the moods of the cranky and the crafty. Luckily, my pilgrimage was blessed with wonderful climate. In fact, it was sunny throughout.

The other problem is acclimatisation to the climate. It is cold, with C bolded and on font size seventy two! Sure, one  catches up with it, and fast. Yet another problem is the roads. Sure the roads are not paved with tar, the way they are at the Vaishno Devi at Katra. They are hence both natural but arduous. 

Yet another issue is the mode to trek. One would climb it up. For sure, one could trek it down, what with the Himalayas and the gravity working in your favour, not withstanding the not so gentle murmur, eh, creaking of the knees. But for that one would need lots of time on hand!

But the worst that goes wrong is the attitude of the locals. Sure, tourism often is their  only source of livelihood. Agri business would be minimal as fruits are not forever, only seasonal. Rice, wheat, potatoes could not be beyond mere sustenance. Yep, mining, sure to ruin the region very soon, could be another source of livelihood. Right now it is tourism.

And are the tourists the milch cow! Sure hiking up every ounce of material with the help of the horses and mules, treated the worst way ever possible, is unbelievably costly. Yet tourists' money is hard-earned, too, right? Difficulty cannot be the close relative of manipulation, right?

Luckily for me, the doli/palakhi-wallahs up the hike and the pittu wallah down the trek were simply Good. They were all young boys in their early twenties. I treated them with utmost kindness, fed them sumptuously, chatted with them. I did feel bad to use such human services, no alternative  though. I was told that they had no other way of livelihood, and hiring them was helping them! Anyways, they told me I reminded them of their mother, a great compliment I would say.  Yet even these unfortunate Nepali boys (their wails about their life were tough to bear!) would be advised to fleece me! Luckily they did not! 

The pittu wallah from Gauri Kund to the hotel charged me one thousand for two kilometres. I had decided to pay a little extra to the elderly person. But each time he felt like resting, he would keep the pittu atop a small square pillar of a bridge overlooking a deep trench of some sixty metres, a valley with waters gushing! And he would order me not to move.

He was not answerable to anyone.  Just like the very many ghode wallah's (horse rides, difficult to decide whom they are crueller to, the animals or the tourists!), the pittu wallah's or the palakhi wallah's. Actually, they are given permits which MUST be checked. Safety, otherwise, would be an imminent danger as every one is at their mercy even when walking it up/down as they push past everyone on a road slippery with slush and dung.

For the hoteliers, every drop of water is to be calculated. Of course, many tourists, too, demand impossible advantages they would not even dream of at home! Tough is the money game, In brief, for priests as well as  people, money is honey!

Pratima@Pilgrimages need not produce piety!

N.B.: Oh, yes, the police! Could they be less indifferent and more polite!?! In the Devbhoomi come pilgrims and tourists from all over the world. Literally! Why misrepresent one's own state to the big-n-bad world!

N.B. 2: Sand mining has to be big business here. The rivers, singly and/or as confluence, prove it. Hope there is not any Santosh Deshmukh though!

At Kedarnath

 At Kedarnath! Every breath is a whiff. One remembers the childhood game of *smoke, smoke* so beautifully used in "Sadma", a film I immensely love. It is cold. One does not mind the pleasant dip in the temperature. Eager as one is to go, meet Kedareshwar!

The mandir itself is unique. In the forefront, that is, in the foreground part of the temple, you have the Pandava panchayatan, with their eternal Guru every which way, Shri Krishna. Here rubbing the idols with ghee is the practice. Very soon I shall tell you why. 

The common "janata" is rushed past this "gabhara".  In the "garbhgriha" is THE idol, unique in its shape, given the Mahabharata myth. As Bheema tried to catch the Lord in the form of the "mahisha", the "Nandi", his nail marks scratched the Lord. Hence here it always is the ghee as the material for abhishekam so as to heal the scratch marks.

I could manage the entry in to the "garbhgriha" and the special 'jal' and the 'ghee' abhishek. Sure felt fulfilled. Happy for my entire family whom I merely represent, right?

Equally great was the visit to the "bheemshila" which miraculously protected the temple from the 2013 deluge. It is a wonder  indeed. The devout would consider it as the protection by the Pandavas, or some such mini god as the Bhairava. It could be a coincidence, and natural at that. I look at the phenomenon differently. In my opinion, it is indubitable proof that the entire universe chooses to stand behind the good. Every which way.

The Adi Shankaracharya Samadhi is a great site, too. Its architectural design is simply elegant, and deeply meaningful. I feel eternally grateful to this unique individual whose genuine contribution to Hinduism can never be re-paid. Like Sant Dnyaneshwar, who expired in his very early twenties, having fulfilled the work of  at least ten life times, the great Adi Shankaracharya, who, too, left for the eternal abode at the tender ripe age of thirty-one, too, can never be thanked enough. His statue, so young and yet so eternal, truly signifies all that the Kedarnath clearly means!

Pratima@ I wanted to, but was not exactly allowed to, visit the Bhairaw temple as it is much higher, and dangerous, given the height, and lack of oxygen. Better to listen to local wisdom, right? I built hence the small little home, as per the custom, near the samadhi of the great saint.