WHY HOPE?

There is the story of a doctor having told a patient that he had tried everything to save the patient and had finally come to the conclusion that nothing would work at that hopeless stage. “Is there anything that you would want to do before you die?” the doctor asked. Even though the patient was feeble and despondent, his response was prompt, “Yes, I would like to see another doctor.” Truly, life exists for us as long as hope exists. Robert Browning, the great poet of hope and optimism, in his poignant poem titled ‘Evelyn Hope’, had this to say at her death:

“So hush, I’ll give you this leaf to keep,
See, I put it in the cold white hand.
Now there is our secret that goes to sleep;
You will wake up and remember and understand!”

We may not be aware but a considerable part of our day is taken up with hopes. These are routine hopes. Small or big but they keep us going. Here are a few examples:

• We hope that the number that we have dialed, especially if it is that of Railway or Airport Enquiry would not be engaged.
• We hope that the milkman or the maidservant won’t be sick the next morning.
• We hope that Indian and especially Mumbai roads would improve.
• We hope that there won’t be a wedding party in the club next door so that children could study.
• We hope that finally after finishing the work around the house when we step into the bathroom the water won’t play truant.
• We hope that no one would ring the doorbell when we watch our favourite TV programme.
  We hope that the boss in office won’t think of another new and bright idea.
• We hope that when finally we get our turn, the doctor won’t be called for “something important”.
• We hope that sanity would somehow return to Pakistan.
• We hope that finally we would be able to repay the house loan so that we can start calling it ‘Apna Ghar’.
• We hope that the next Hindi movie that we watch would have a different story.
• We hope that one day the duration of TV programmes would be more than that of the advertisements.
• We hope that our politicians, bureaucrats, and police personnel would understand the true meaning of the term 'public servant'.
• We hope that the noise during the forthcoming festival season would be restricted and public places such as roads would be free for the use for which they are made.

There is no end to it. We hope and hope and hope. Sometimes, some of our hopes come true directly or indirectly and make us happy. However, always it is worth hoping for. Our son, for example, is a die-hard Indian cricket team fan. They can be 143 for 6, requiring another two hundred runs to win but he still hopes that they would win. Once he was proved right, the night when even Kaif’s parents went to see ‘Devdas’ rather than be witness to sure ignominy. Since then, it is not he but we who hope. We hope that there won’t be another ODI during the exams!

Hope is like sunshine through the clouds. It is like raindrops on parched land. Hope is a lighthouse by which we steer our ship in troubled waters. However, hopes transcend the boundaries of mere wants and desires when we do so selflessly. Supposing all people on earth would hope that poverty, hunger and violence would be wiped out forever; do you think they would stay? Supposing some of us would hope to see the smile on the face of a child who lost his parents in bomb blasts, do you think it would never come back? How wonderful the world would be if each of us would hope for something for others at least once in a month!

The other day I was reading about Mata Amritanandamayyi. Why would everyone, from famous to rich, from poor to hungry, from strong to helpless come to see her or be hugged by her? She hopes for others and provides them with a ray of hope.

Yes, it is alright to hope for promotion, for a better house, for a gift or reward, for a holiday and more pay. It is even okay to hope for “zara si lift kara de.” However, once in a while one must hope something for others.

"Lead kindly light,
Keep thou my feet.
I don’t want to see
The distant scene;
One step enough for me."

In a small village called Ayikuddy near Tirunelvelli, my wife and I went to see a polio rehabilitation centre called ‘Amar Seva Sangam’ and discovered the very embodiment of Hope. The President and all staff of the centre are invalid. The President, Mr Ramakrishnan, is so paralytic that he requires help to even turn in bed. His condition became so when he had an accident many years ago at the time when he was about to join the Navy as a commissioned officer. Yet when we saw him he had the most beatific smile on his face. He runs a centre that provides succour to other polio stricken children. In his hopeless situation he provides hope to hundreds of young boys and girls! After that whenever our own situation is unfavourable, our faces light up when we think of him.

Hope never dies. Next only to Life, it is the second greatest gift of God to us. Why hope? Hope, so as to live better and make others live better. Some four letter words are not bad at all!

TRIP TO SHAHDOL AND JABALPUR IN MADHYA PRADESH

Photo essay of my visit to Shahdol (Suhagpur) and Jabalpur in Madhya Pradesh where my company, Reliance, has Coal Bed Methane gas-wells over an area of 1000 sq km. Hence, I had to visit remote villages, forests and fields.

Two boys washing their bicycle in a pond. Easy availability of water during the monsoons has led to greenery everywhere (Photo taken from train near Annupur, 30 mins short of Shadol

A view of National Highway 78. It must look good on the map! This was a good stretch; you should see the bad stretches. PM Rajiv Gandhi once said only 23 paise out of one rupee actually reaches the roads; rest gets pocketed. The present estimate is less than 23 paise.

As compared to Punjab, Haryana, HP, wayside dhabas are rare. Indeed, from Shahdol to Jabalpur there are hardly any eating joints.

Large tracts of fertile land with no cultivation. The cattle feed on wild grass and bushes

Wilderness!


We actually drove through this pond!


A security post in the middle of nowhere!


Most villages we saw had water, electricity, SBI and BSNL connection


A Mahua Tree. Its fruit is intoxicating and is used for making local brew by the same name. The left dry side of the tree is where lightening fell just a day prior to my visit killing four cows on the spot.

Closer look at the verdant Mahua tree.


We went through some really thick vegetation. It was scary due to palpable fear of Naxalites but the DC and SP of the area told me later that the area is "relatively safe"


Ballu Yadav, my driver, all of twenty, started driving at the age of 17 years. He could handle this Bolero with skill even in the tough terrain and I felt totally safe with him.


Sone river in full spate because of incessant rains. This part of MP has plenty of water.



With all the progress it is still bare minimum amenities in the villages. Ballu told me that a girl child gets a lot of incentives through 'Laadli Lakshmi' scheme and even the Adivasis get monetary remuneration on filing complaints against harrassment.

Highway? No place for another vehicle to cross. It must look good as a thick line on a map! Anyway, this is the heart of coal mines, illegal smuggling of coal etc. I met one such Don who was attired as a Swami but rolls in money and power due to coal smuggling.


Are we not lucky we have highways (!) running through the length and breadth of our country?

At some places in East Suhagpur the highway was in good state.



Pradhan Mantri Grameen Sadak Yojna also seems to have made huge difference.


At many places under the Yojana concretisation of roads has been done.

Viraat temple in Shahdol; built in the year 1759. A few years later, due to earthquake one portion of the temple sank into the earth. What stands now is leaning like the tower in Pisa. It is a Shiva temple; people refer to it as Teda Mandir

A view of the Bhedaghat waterfall near Jabalpur. The Narmada river falls with such velocity that it makes water vapour to rise. Hence, it is named Dhuandaar at this stage

A breathtaking view of the Dhuandaar.

A cable car is a great attraction for the tourists and goes over the falls.

The river is lined by marble rocks on both sides. These are looking dirty due to the rains, but, at other times I am told that the marble is so white that it shines enchantingly in moonlight

Downstream, the river settles into a more placid one allowing boating to take place except during monsoons.

f For Freedom

She was a model
A model of haute couture.
So high that it was designed directly by God.
Pot-bellied men and voluptuous women
Sat awaiting the next item.
And then, she walked along the catwalk
Not flaunting but apologetic
Of her near nudity.
Tattered clothes barely covering her.
A young body, all of fifteeen years.
A small child
In the crook of her left arm,
Held as a prize, a memento for
The depravity and avarice of men
A wonderful fashion statement!

She looked straight ahead
At the pole bearing the tri-colour,
A remarkable symbol of
Sixty-three years of independence.
A sign of our freedom.
Freedom from what?
Well, never mind, freedom,
F-R-E-E-D-O-M and Independence.

She walked right up to the tiranga
And tugged at the rope
And brought down the flag
And wrapped it around her and the child.

And then for the final denouement
She brought out a bowl
And held it out
From beneath the Ashoka Chakra
To the guardians of fashion;
"f”, she said, “Always stood for food”.

footnote: Lets not forget it when we celebrate our Independence Day yet again.

URDU – A LANGUAGE OF THE HEART

Ours was a Punjabi family but I spent all my childhood in Himachal because my father was posted there in the horticulture department. My schooling was entirely in Himachal and after the schooling I was amongst the first batch of students to have got a Pre-Engineering degree from the newly established Himachal University in 1970-71.

The second language in our school was Urdu. In the Government School, Chamba, our Urdu teacher was a very hard taskmaster and looked for any opportunity to cane us on our hands. We used to cringe more because of receiving this chastisement in front of girl students than with the physical torture. Indeed, we had made various jokes and couplets about what we would do to Urdu, the teacher and the school, if given a chance. Our favourite was, “Ain gan (Urdu alphabets) school dhale tanh mundya nu chan” (Ain gan, if the school would collapse, boys would be relieved).


Little did I know at that time that I would be in love with the language. I was just stepping into boyhood and the language seemed to me the answer to my emotional needs and curiosity. I discovered that Urdu had a way of expressing feelings that no other language can match. Many other languages are direct, in-your-face, but, Urdu's lehza (style) is to always express things indirectly. We had a joke about the effrontery of Punjabi or Hindi or even English in something as routine as introducing one self in comparison to an Urdu person who would say, "Khak dar khak, khuda-e-pak, khuda ke bande ko Akhtar miyan ke naam se pukarte hain". An Urdu person won't directly claim to be Akhtar but that he, the insignificant being, is called by that name.


No one can beat the humility of an Urdu person. He is a ghulam (slave) and his abode, however ostentatious it might be, is always the gharib-khana (the poor house).


However, the aspect in which Urdu really excels is in expressing matters of the heart. For example, "Mujhe tumse mohabbat hai magar main keh nahin sakta" (I am in love with you but I cannot say it!)


Literal meanings of words are never necessary when you use the language of the heart. One would say 'Silence' and 'Khamoshi' have the same meaning until you hear:


"Rafta rafta bujha jaata hai chirag-e-aarzoo,
Pehle dil khamosh tha, ab zindagi khamosh hai"
(Gradually the lamp of my desires extinguishes; first my heart became khamosh, now my life has)


You can say things in Urdu that would sound so rude in other languages. Take this from Ghulam Ali's ghazal:


"Shaam ko subhe chaman yaad aa'ii;
Kiski khushboo-e badan yaad aa'ii"

Translated (and I am not even attempting to do it) it would evoke the tease that perhaps she should start using better deodrant.


Being a language of the heart, Urdu writers and poets normally plunge deeper than in other languages. Taste this of Mehdi Hassan:


"Ik zara sa gham-e-dauran ka bhi haq hai jis par,
Maine woh saans bhi tere liye rakh chhodi hai.
Tujhpe ho jaaoonga qurbaan tujhe chahoonga,
Main to mar ke bhi meri jaan tujhe chahoonga;
Zindagi mein to sabhi pyaar kiya karte hain"


(Rather than giving full meaning, suffice it to say that the poet conveys that many people love in their lives but I shall love you even after I die. In the last breath people normally remember their Maker, but even that breath I have saved for you)


Here is my own (infantile) attempt:


Khud ko mujhse itna bhi na tu door samajh,
Apne parwaane ko itna bhi na majboor samajh.
Main agar chahoon to itni bhi hai taqat mujh mein,
Yaad ko teri main ik tu hi bana sakta hoon.
Ik to tu hai meri har baat ko samjhe vehshat,
Apni us tu ko main har ik baat suna sakta hoon.
Gham nahin gar tu lakh bhi roothe mujhse,
Apni us tu ko main jab chahe mana sakta hoon.


(Once again no full translation but the thought that: 'My love, do not think you are that far from me or that I am totally helpless. I have the power to turn your memory into you! This 'you' will always be mine')


All those who are ruled by the heart find a natural bonding with Urdu.

Remember Mirza Ghalib? Here goes:


"Dil-e naadan tujhe hua kya hai,
Aakhir is marz ki dawa kya hai?"


There is no cure; but who the hell wants to be cured?
Urdu is for those whose hearts beat in love even after life.

CAMARADERIE OR CRONYISM?

A few years back, a retiring C-in-C of the Western Naval Command openly bemoaned, in his farewell speech, the scourge of "cronyism" that had started to plague the Indian Navy. One could do nothing right unless one was in the good books of some flag officer or the other; conversely, if one happened to be the favourite of a senior officer, one could never do anything wrong. It reminded me of an industrialist facilitating a young employee in a public function, "Today, we have gathered here to facilitate young Rajkumar on his achievements in the company. Two years back he joined our company as an Assistant Manager. A few months later because of his hardwork he was promoted to become Deputy Manager. His dedication soon saw him become a Manager. He continued to do well and within a year of his joining the company, he became a General Manager. Today, ladies and gentlemen, with his sterling qualities, Rajkumar has become a Vice President. Now what do you have to say, young man?" Rajkumar takes the mike and simply says, "Thank you, papa".

In the Indian Navy, the phenomenon is not just to do with promotions; it is also to do with appointments including ships to command and foreign deputations, one's pecking order in social functions, success of one's ventures such as refits or exercises, command tenure, perks and dealing with support organisations. There was a time when individuals ran the Navy; now, it is similar to any organisation with parochial pulls and pushes, say, Hockey India or BCCI. In such a setup, should you want to stand as an individual you cannot succeed. You would be declared a pariah. You cannot get anything done against the general flow; no one would hold your hand. You are most likely to be labelled as the person who is "negative" and cannot get along well with anyone.

Sadly, this has come about at a time when the Navy went through the Transformation process. Two of its goals were to empower people at various levels and promote out-of-box thinking. Both traits are those of upright individuals and not of brown nosing men with a desire to belong to one camp or the other. I am not suggesting that every individual has to be maverick; but, at this juncture the cloning of people is so complete that it is frightening. I am sure a few years later the Navy will certainly realise that it permitted cronyism to become a scourge and that did more damage to the Navy than any other evil. But, until then, parichialism in one form or the other remains alive and kicking.

Cronyism is not to be confused with the healthy trait of camaraderie, which is dying down. I have seen senior officers who were great friends and swore by each other fall apart the moment they are to be considered for promotion and only some of them would make it. I have seen people retiring after decades of service and they are forgotten the moment they leave. I retired after thirty-seven years of service including training time and there was not a single officer who called us for a farewell dinner or get-together. I must be a bad example because of my stress on individality; but, I came across, in a social gathering, a couple who were very popular when in service. However, during that gathering since they had retired they sat alone. In the Navy, your goodwill ceases as soon as your perceived 'power' and 'influence' goes. That's the way it must be elsewhere too, say, on the civvie street; but, a uniformed service should be proudly promoting camaraderie and esprit-de-corps. Alas, both are victims of what is described as "cut-throat competition" and the flaming desire to somehow get ahead of others.

As India takes rapid strides to become a major global player there is greater awareness of maritime challenges and opportunities than ever before. Indian Navy would be the enabling force to squarely meet these. It is a fine service but for sometime it has allowed personnel policies to deteriorate and start resembling personal policies. Ascendancy of cronyism and decline of camaraderie have been the fallouts. We need to bring the ship on even keel before we sail ahead with confidence.