THE CONUNDRUM OF CORRUPTION

I spent most of last month in a recruitment process for the department .Before the recruitment process began in the capital city, I was wary of the month long arduous task ahead and the accompanying drudgery; at the same time, I was curious to see the levels at which the young men and women, the very light of our country- the youth would compete with each other for the handful of government jobs at our behest. They came, they competed and they left me brimming with pessimism. Most wanted to cheat in the physical efficiency tests and did not even shy away from manipulating something as impossible as height. The most enduring trait common to the ten thousand candidates who appeared in the sundry tests was the overpowering hungry to cheat, lie and adopt all the unfair means possible to get that elusive government job. Which translated to tiptoeing during height measurements, trying to piggyback during swimming, slobbering for that ‘another last chance’ after failing to clear an event not to forget the countless calls made through the high, mighty and powerful of the society to extend specific candidates an extra helpful  ‘nudge’ to clear the exam. The justification for this entire charade would be on similar lines- the candidate specific was a destitute with the weight of a poverty stricken family/relatives on his head which apparently gave him the right to flout all norms to get employed and thus, earn a ticket to the genteel world.

 I agree and empathize with the urge to find a job and place under the sun-I had been slogging for the same half a dozen years ago and the memories of those days and nights of toil are still mint fresh in my memory. What I do not agree with at all is this justification of dishonesty in the name of poverty. Should honesty and transparency only be the shroud of the haves and be dispensed with in the case of have nots? It is actually difficult to swallow that the youth who spearheaded the anti-corruption campaign a few springs ago do not bat an eyelid when it comes to their own cases. I believe that the issue of corruption has been done to death in the public sphere and it has been quite an eye opener to see the country en masse ganging up against dishonesty, greed, unfairness, cheating and corruption. But, a good brush with field reality makes one wonder whether we are socially, ethics spouting saints, and individually, as vile and as much of a cheat as the other.

All of this made me think that there is something awry with our education system. We have not been able to modulate our pedagogy in a way to nurture healthy, upright young minds who are fired by the desire to conquer the world with their zeal, enthusiasm, sincerity and by the dint of their hard, honest efforts. Instead, we have reared armies of self defeated, crippled minds whose only wish is to manipulate and find that shortcut to success. The shame of the picture of parents/ relatives aiding their wards to cheat in school exams in Bihar should be an apt reminder for us to revisit our curriculum and pedagogy. There was a time when it was an uphill task to get children to schools and thereby, the mid-day meal scheme was introduced to lure children to schools and feed them well..so that they keep coming back. That was a welcome step in those days but we have not moved forward. I believe the next step should be taken with urgency- a step to ensure that the students are not only well fed but well schooled as well. Eggs in lunch will and cannot suffice to prepare them for the rigours of life ahead. Also, primary education needs to be sound and strong to prepare a  bedrock of good values, morals as well as sound knowledge for each and every child. And that is precisely what we are missing today. We have a huge young mass to take up striking, sloganeering and everything else to fight against corruption but who lack the zest and endeavour to make that effort to be honest and upright themselves.

 

This is not to chastise others; somewhere, as an administrator, I feel it is a personal failure when I see young boys and girls coming for a written examination with fistfuls of ‘cheat chits’ stuffed in all corners of their bodies and clothes. Somewhere, I feel I have failed to inspire and have failed to lead from the front. Its easy to put the blame on other systems…but yes, my recurring feeling is one of pessimism and abject failure. In the 21^st century, we should have a lesser degree of formal policing and more of self policing. But, what probably debunks all our claims of a young energetic nation is our excessive need for policing because somewhere, we feel that we are not equipped to look after ourselves..to be honest and sincere ourselves..we need an external enforcer. And that is where the agony begins and defeat sets in. 

SO MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING..REALLY!

The election fever and fervor are reaching a fast climax and the entire nation is waiting for the campaigns to end, polls to begin and finally, the results to be declared leading to a change of guard at the Centre and in many states. Predictably, one of the major issues looming large over the poll arena is corruption and its corollary, a clean, efficient government. The big question with a big Q is- will the country, with a bourgeoning youth population vote for non-corrupt, “cleaner than washed in Surf Excel and whiter than dipped in Ujala” politicians? Of course, we all have cried ourselves hoarse on corruption in the media, at extended family picnics, over working lunches, at kitty parties, pub sessions, long drives, at the family dining table and in bed. Yes, it has been done to death and more. Which gives rise to the strong conviction that this time around, we all will vote to throw away those slime balls who have sucked away our hard earned money from the government coffers and bring in the talented, sincere, raring to work and wary to steal kinds into the political set up. A sanguine conviction..but will it really work out in the end?

During the urban local body elections in the state a while ago and more recently, the upcoming general and assembly elections, there have been rampant talks of the voters being gained over by the contestants not by flexing muscles and sinews, but by money. The aspirants reportedly spend crores of rupees in arranging gala feasts for entire localities, distributing fancy cell phones en masse; even distributing cash etc. and all these are not always slanderous gossips or hearsay. There have been numerous instances of candidates being caught or their supporters’ vehicles being seized carrying obscene amounts of unaccounted for money. But then, that is just the minute tip of the giant iceberg.

In my opinion, the reality is that money, freebies etc are being generously distributed by candidates, who themselves, have no ethics or ideology to speak of. One look at the drama that unfolded just before campaigns kick started clearly indicates that a politician, wannabe or seasoned, only understands the language of power. He or she believes in the ideology of that party which is willing to give him/her the ticket to try out luck in the elections. That is all that matters. Since the ideologies, beliefs and ethics of our politicians have become so fluid so as to fit into any party vessel, it is anybody’s guess how staunchly they must be guarding moral values and once elected, how scrupulously; they would be putting the national interests above their own. Forget the lascivious chair and power hungry politicos, the aam junta- the common people are no less. Yes, the election commission has dutifully appointed observers to monitor the entire process of electioneering and special ones, as well, to ensure that the pure, gullible minds of the holier-than-thou voters is not sullied by those who will pull all strings and exhaust many foreign bank accounts to get the votes. Ah! But are the common and not so common people really so wide eyed, innocent, straightforward and honest? Even if we wish to believe this premise, where is all the money being pumped into the elections going? If some candidates are giving, it is because many, nay; most of us are willing to grab fistfuls of free cash and free giveaways willingly. And, there is competition in this as well. A whole lot of freeloaders are jumping around, changing allegiances at the drop of a freebie because the anthem is ‘ He/she who gives the most takes the most’. Development issues, the larger cause of honesty and transparency are put in the garbage bin to bring out once the election shenanigans are over. This, when the campaigning, the groundwork etc are being done not by the so called old, corrupt have-beens, but the new X,Y and Z laptop-tablet-Bluetooth-facebook-twitter generation who otherwise need a fancy cola to satiate themselves after mouthing reams of platitudes on the acute need of a honest, corruption free government as the panacea for all the ills plaguing the country.

There are, of course, a few men and women, with integrity and strength of character, who are in the fray and who promise to show the light in the next five years. The light to a better, well functioning and efficient democracy, the light to a more responsive and responsible government. Meanwhile, one can just feel that as regards, corruption, it is actually much ado about nothing and may the best person(s) win! Amen.

THE AGONY OF STEREOTYPES.

I have been transferred to my hometown and am presently, putting up with my parents. Quite relieving indeed, to have a home and hearth since transfers always mean a dislocation, the pain of getting all your stuff in one piece to the new place and of course, the deep fear of unknown in the professional sphere. Home town means the comfort of being surrounded by members of extended family, relatives and bevy of familiar faces. Hometown also means frequent visits of relatives and old friends to check out how one has been faring in life and also to offer suggestions as to how to improve one's state of being. Not an issue at all..except that I happen to be working in the police. The media blitzkrieg has ensured that even though the police force is reviled for its perpetual ineptness, there is a growing sense of awareness and empathy for the problems afflicting the police force. Foremost happens to be the psychological health and emotional well being of the police personnel on job. Psychologists, Sociologists, Public administrators, Medicos, NGOs, universities in India and abroad et al  seem to have had a field day in conducting extensive researches and concluding that a majority of our police persons go through immense stress, depression,anxiety attacks and a plethora of other psychosomatic disorders due to the demanding nature of their jobs. Which is, in fact, a reality.

However, all realities and facts of life are not so sweet. It is a wonderful feeling and quite satisfying too, enlightening one's relatives, friends and acquaintances of the rigors of one's service and subsequently, receiving hosannas and kudos from them for all the thankless jobs one engages in on a daily basis. But, it is another story altogether when this strategy backfires. Recently, a family friend of nearly 3 decades visited us. After the routine recriminations about losing one's pinky glow and not being able to keep in touch due to the demands of the job, the favourite topic of police brutality and apathy unfolded. Being a part of the police and finding it a little tough to swallow the seemingly unwarranted criticism, I thought it to be a good idea to enlighten the gentleman about the serious problems facing the police..resource crunch, staff crunch, poor infrastructure..the works. Not to lose out, he gave a quick repartee that being in the police( and thereby having lost all charm, beauty and appreciation of finer things of life), I must be in a state of chronic depression given the issues and challenges we face on a daily basis. Not expecting a personal remark, I could only mutter that the general problems might not  always be person specific. Not to be deterred, the doctor in our family friend rose to the occasion and dutifully lectured me on how tough the job is, how the stressful situations have managed to sink me into a state of despair and how it is so evident on my poor face. All presumptions...and I was about to refute when the grand suggestion arrived that I must meditate and practice yoga religiously since the latter is a panacea to all such problems. And, to top it all, extensive researches, monographs and studies have attested that yoga is indeed the alchemist's stone-the one stop solution to bring about physical and mental well being.

i have nothing against yoga or any other commonly accepted mode of relieving tensions and stress. However, there cannot be a stereotypical solution to any problem. All police persons or for that matter, all human beings may not attain moksha through one widely feted practice. I, for one, draw immense relief from the drudgery of the day by chatting away with a loved one or by talking about some hilarious vignettes of life with a close friend.For me, a human interaction spiced with emotional connection is much more a stress buster and energy booster than meditating, which frankly induces me to sleep. I tried to convey the same to the seasoned doctor, who, by then, had the expression on his face, which, I am sure, he reserves for the relatives of his patients who are on their death beds. An extremely sorry face indicating that there is no hope for me given this attitude towards holier-than-holy yoga which comes with certificates from sages of the hoary past to the ablest researchers of the present. A look of pity that given my job, there is actually no hope for me and I am on my way to an asylum sometime pretty soon. Which, i think, is far from reality!


 I strongly feel that it is true that our lives have indeed become stressful, tightly wired and challenging on a day to day basis. We all need to beat the heat and it is up to us to devise ways and means to do so. There cannot be stereotypical solutions to our individual concerns. The road map to our little joys cannot be dictated by some sham-glam research. That which gives a spring to our steps, lights up our faces and kills all the dark monsters has to be identified by us and pursued by us. Thinking of all this, i shake myself up from the reverie to find our family friend still lecturing me on the benefits of withdrawing from the world to mental solitude in order to achieve peace inner joy. I smile, for I strongly believe that the real joy is in engaging with the world, sparring with life and drawing strength from it. And then, I pick up the phone to talk to a dear friend. to relieve the agony of this hackneyed conversation.

SKILL CRUNCH- THE REALITY OF THE PRESENT?

With the general elections round the corner, quite a lot of pending work has to be hastened up before the model code of conduct gets implemented. One of them is appointment to the department at the district level. Last week, the process to induct a few skilled workers to the district police voluntary force started. A staggering  number of twelve hundred people had applied for  around thirty posts and had attached degrees attesting their qualifications which were much more than our modest requirements. We, at the recruitment cell, were bracing for a tough week handling over qualified candidates, numerous recommendations, sob stories et al.

But, what started with a resounding bang ended with not even a meek whimper. Candidates boasting to be computer software engineers( and surprisingly, competing for a contractual job paying a paltry salary) could not type a simple document on the computer, supposedly qualified plumbers could not fix up leaking taps, electricians had troubles fixing up tube lights properly and nobody really wanted to work as a sweeper. This, in other words, meant a huge problem was at hand. We had to meet deadlines, fill up posts, and we badly needed skilled people. On the top of it, the state police was taking up an ambitious computerization project and we badly needed staff with a decent hand in computers. Seems such a simple ask was actually asking for the Godot in one of the most literate and developed districts of the state. For, the degrees existed only in paper; the skills were certified in black and white but not in practice. What  began as a feeling that I could be a fussy child picking my way through the choicest gifts turned into a veritable nightmare. My cup of woes was full because I could not find a remotely employable person with some specialized skills. To top it and add to the exasperation, my colleagues quite timidly put forth that the candidates may be lacking in talent, skills but what they didn't lack in was moolah to bribe the recruiters and buy jobs for themselves. Already beleaguered by all sorts of people calling, pleading and begging for their protégés, I was really, really angry. Angry about being surrounded by people who claim to be worshippers of a Arvind Kejriwal or a Anna Hazare but have no scruples themselves. Angry at youngsters for not willing to learn, not willing to be sincere at their vocations but just taking shortcuts. Angry at so many others for recommending useless chaffs for jobs they hardly deserved. Yes, poverty is always invoked to make us sentimental enough and dole out jobs. But, my perennial issue is as to why this tearful song of poverty is always used to goad and emotionally cripple a recruiter to give away a job but is never played to goad these youngsters to work hard and resolutely to polish their skills and make themselves worthy. Yes, I was and am angry and disturbed that we are slowly becoming a skill starved society with loads of bunkum talk but nothing to show by way of actions. All we want are backdoor entries to everywhere. Not our style to work hard and prove ourselves. Not the life of a proud lion, but the life of a slinking hyena.

Maybe, it was a frustrating exercise and the very thought of starting a hunt again within a short span is mentally exhausting, but the nagging fear which persists is that whether a severe skill crunch is the reality of the present and would be a legacy of the future. No doubt, we are proud to be the country of some of the most talented people of the world but some bright brains can never compensate for a mediocre, trudging majority. Our pedagogy and a whole lot of ancillary factors are responsible for this. But my anger remains- why do we denounce corruption so much when as individuals, we are salivating to corrupt or be corrupted at the slightest opportunity? This is an issue which requires a special reflection. Which I should put off immediately for another day to concentrate on my undone job of recruiting a few averagely talented blokes for some very simple jobs.

                                      

HOMECOMING

My current read is a book by a friend on the struggle of the Tibetans for their homeland, their feeling of being uprooted, their terrible longing for their hearth and ‘home’. This urge ‘to belong’ is so predominant in human beings- the urge to belong to a place, the urge to be rooted emotionally to some physical space. Being the child of a government servant, I have never had the leisure to develop a sense of belonging to a particular place. Regular transfers, change of government quarters and rented residences have ensured that there is hardly any place I could call my own. I cannot return back to the lawn I had my first fall, cannot return back to the room where I went through the sweet agony of my first crush, cannot go back to the living room where we celebrated the little joys of life. Such has been my loss..there is just no physical space to identify with oneself..No favourite corner of the house to rush to in moments of glee or sadness..no place which still retains the fragrance of your past. Eventually, I moved to a university in the country’s capital which was a beautiful home away from home for six odd years. After leading a life of a Bedouin for so long, it was immensely gratifying to stay put at one place, develop roots, make friends and identify with the surroundings. It has been nearly eight years that I have been out of the university, but still, the very memory of it, brings a lot of comfort and a queer sense of solace.

Personal issues and conflicts in profession had taken a heavy toll on me, of late, and I was craving for a break to sort myself out. And, I realized that other than my alma mater , I had no place to slink to, to lick my wounds, to retrospect and to enjoy a few stolen moments of quietude. I did go, with loads of trepidation for I had not been back at the campus since long. I don’t know what I expected when I drove down there; I no longer knew a soul at the campus and I had heard from friends and erstwhile classmates about the massive changes in the university and how it wore a new look. Yes, at first glance, I must say it had changed, renovations and cosmetic makeover had taken care of the pajama casualness of the campus but, something about the air was still so much the same. I sat outside my erstwhile hostel nursing a small snack watching life drift by. Students going to and fro to the library, the mangy mongrel trying to catch the warmth of the wintry sun, the eccentric dhobi mumbling away., the protracted chai sessions in the nearby benches..everything was still like it had always been. the situations were all frozen in a frame, the characters different,though. After an old hostel mess worker recognized me and started making fond enquiries, I picked up courage to venture into the hostel where I had stayed for half a dozen years. The place where I had made friends, nurtured grandiose dreams, had had loads of fun, had gone through bittersweet moments of stress…it all stood before me. Wandering through the corridors brought back a bouquet of happy memories, memories of love, affection shared with precious people I had come to know and cherish. The days gone by fleeted past like a vivid movie with all emotions intact. At last, it was time to leave. I walked up to the gate and lurched suddenly. I had lurched at this gate every single day of the six years spent and all my friends used to have a hearty laugh whenever it happened. The same, unexpected motion and subsequent reverberation of the same laughter and teasing in my ears unlocked a tsunami of emotions. And..the tears came on!

A homecoming it was, to relive the past, to draw strength from the carefree, happy days of the past in order to build up the strength and fortitude to face the stress of the mundane of the present and future.

RULES-NOT FOR ME.

Yesterday, I got  the third call from boss during peak working hours.  I had just finished a rather frustrating discussion with a self styled messiah of the downtrodden and the ringing desk phone left me pretty frazzled. Boss was deeply concerned about the sad traffic situation in the town and was rightly concerned about the take of the police on the same. I took a deep breath to explain certain things and in my mind’s eye, unfolded the events of not so long ago.

The fact is, the traffic situation in the town was nothing to write much about. We made certain half-baked attempts which, obviously, didn’t work out. And then….IT happened. In quick succession, two adolescents lost their lives to rash driving right in the heart of the town. Unfortunate incidents, which catapulted to an uncontrollable law and order situation. Students, egged on by mischief mongers, went on a rampage  setting fire to shops, ransacking public property, burning tyres and pelting stones at one and sundry. The normal life of the town came to a halt and the police had to tread carefully since students were involved in this carnage. The situation was somehow controlled but it did leave me pretty disturbed. In a week’s time, we called numerous meetings of different sections of the society to elicit their help and support to put a proper and responsive traffic policing system in place. This, knowing very well, that we had no traffic police station, no designated staff and the massive demands of the district were anyways eating into our existing meager resources. However, the idea was that if people were so aggrieved about a crumbling public service, we must exert ourselves to the optimum to provide for the same and also that we would get immense public support and participation for the same. People came in hordes, spoke enthusiastically, their speeches brimming with ideas and promised us the moon. We, of course, were over the moon. I was, in short, really very happy and was never as motivated before as I was then. In a week’s time, we began awareness campaigns around the town sensitizing the masses about traffic rules and regulations. Then came announcements about the traffic rules and restrictions that were to be followed. After a buffer of 15 days, a well thought out and intensively discussed, debated and popularly welcomed traffic system was put into place. The town looked pretty much changed overnight. It was no longer higgledy piggledy madness on the roads; there was an order and a system and we all felt pretty proud to be a part of this exercise.

How I wish we had waited a little longer before backslapping ourselves! 15 days into the exercise and complaints started streaming in. First, came in the parents of under age children objecting to their pre-pubescent wards not being allowed to ride two wheelers on the roads without a license. One parent even threatened that only heavens help us if his child does not get through to a top notch engineering college just because he really can’t go for tuitions in a bicycle! Then, came in truck and bus associations opposing various restrictions on their movements on the main roads in the peak hours. Their grievance was that their business was getting hampered and we didn’t really need to be so strict. Yes, some serious accidents had occurred, but don’t they occur everywhere. Does it mean that we get so badly psyched out? In quick succession came tractors association, senior citizens’ associations, journalists and any group..you name it and they were there. Opposing the rule of wearing helmets, opposing fines on traffic violations, opposing frequent checks by police, opposing stop boards and barricades at crucial junctures, opposing removal of encroachments, opposing removal of stray cattle from roads..in short..Opposing everything. We were bewildered. Were not these the same people called for our collective idea churning sessions and weren’t these the same people who had so vociferously criticized the lack of order and had recommended a ‘strict’ enforcement of ‘traffic rules’?  What  had gone so terribly wrong? Was our staff being inconsiderate, lax or just too unconcerned? I frantically asked for this was our collective dream project which we just could not throw away.

A number of discussions ensued and what appeared was that everybody wanted a public enforcement of rules in general. But the clinch was that the exercise must cause no personal inconvenience. The other must be checked, bossed over, made to bend. But..not me.. I should be allowed to do as I feel like and as I have done before. That was the whole idea. I believe ‘walk the talk’ concept was definitely moribund here. And this was definitely not how a society which prides its fundamental rights and values democracy should function. However harsh it might sound, the hypocrisy was all there to see. In a nutshell, it appeared that the civil society was not in the least happy with the implementation of rules meant for the greater good and to secure lives and safeguard public property.  Because it curtailed personal carpe diem.

All this was pretty disillusioning..the same people who had criticized us for being lax were coming down on our heads like a ton of bricks for trying to do something good. In no time, all talk had vanished faster than the cheapest perfume and we were not even left with a pleasant scent. I tried to do a lot of reflections wondering that maybe we had gone wrong somewhere. Maybe awareness campaigns needed to be more long drawn, maybe we were admitting failure too soon. Despite protests, till date, we continue with the enforcement of basic traffic rules though we have been forced to relax a number of them. However, the bitter chocolate still bothers. Many a times, our staff is heckled on roads for fining a student racing on crammed roads, detaining women for not wearing helmets, questioning men for not carrying their driving licenses etc. A lady constable was recently manhandled by a journalist of a leading media office for stopping the latter’s vehicle for a regular night checking. However, we soldier on.

I must say that in all fairness, I am not disillusioned really. But I am nonetheless wiser. When that super smart journalist screams on TV that India wants to know why  corruption is not being dealt with firmly and similar self righteous verbose, I look the other way. Maybe India does want to know, does indeed talk a lot, but India does precious little. India refuses to look beyond the self-a looking beyond that is such an essential element of a sensitive, sensible, modern society. I agree that one experience is too miniscule to debunk the beautiful concept of public-private partnership and that one has to weather a number of pitfalls before one succeeds in a purpose. But that does not stop one from wondering that if India was actually so desperate for a change for the better, would the response be like this? I again come back to a question mark as I explain all this to Boss and hope that this is his last and final call of the day.

RETIREMENT BLUES

A few days back, I was privy to an informal chat between retired and soon to be retired administrators from bureaucracy and judiciary. I understand that retirement is always a bitter sweet moment- finally, you  have reached that stage in your life where you have achieved all that you could professionally and now you can simply retreat into your cocoon of simple pleasures; also, it is a moment of letting go of a number of privileges you have always held dear for the time has come to move away from the public arena. The Hindu scriptures christened this stage as vanaprastha- the period of life when one retreats into the forests. In modern terminology, its all about going into the wilderness, getting away from the humdrum of daily existence and soothing one’s nerves that have been frayed by the daily pressures of living and life. Of course, one never goes into the forests these days( there are none anyways and if you really have to go, you need to book into a resort) to spend the days of retirement because one just does not retire. Many retired persons find exciting avenues of engaging themselves and actually manage to have a blast in the post retirement phase. Many more prefer a life of quietude in the midst of family and friends. To each his own, basically.

Therefore, I was curious as to what some senior administrators had in mind regarding retirement. My last engagement with a retired person was with my father who had caustically flung away all our worries regarding his post retirement life and our suggestions to engage in some ‘meaningful’ work with the retort that he was retired, not dead and that he would not be bossed over by anybody now, he was a free spirit and he would enjoy life the way he always wanted to but couldn't in all these years. Coming back to that discussion, in a nutshell, I found that the  seniors were haranguing about not getting deluxe rooms in state guest houses or that due courtesies were not extended to them in the public for a post retirement. The best judicial officers and administrators of the time were actually pitching in their brains to devise ways and means to wring  a whole lot of post retirement sops from the government. The idea was that they had given their lives to their respective jobs in the government; now it was payback time.

As I said, to each his own. But still, that doesn't stop me from thinking that this constant clamour for attention, for privileges, more so, when one is retired and comfortably pensioned off, is a tad vulgar. I understand and do agree that we, government servants, give a lot to our jobs sacrificing little pleasures of life. But that is a choice we made early on and we didn't choose to change our choices for reasons best known to us. Though not completely or in full measure, but  still in a big way, the government provides for us to make our lives comfortable. We, the officers in senior ranks, enjoy privileges of housing, vehicles, provident funds etc  all of which are objects of envy of our counterparts in the private sector. I am not comparing the two and not even trying to point out that everything is hunky dory with our job structures and compensation policies. Having said that, I do feel that we are reasonably well taken care of for all the personal sacrifices and efforts we make in our professional spheres to keep the government machinery rolling. And maybe, that is precisely the reason why retired persons screeching for the same perks they enjoyed while being in the service seems to be in a bad taste. As one of my seniors put it beautifully, we need to learn to let go. Yes, we need to learn to let go, to wave that final goodbye and gracefully retire without stirring up a huge fuss.I am sure life is much more beautiful than wasting it pestering over silly privileges of a government vehicle or accommodation in some dak bungalow. What bugged me during that chat was that just nobody was talking about how they wished to utilize their years of experience in the service for some greater or social good. For our retired personnel can be veritable think tanks and their knowledge honed by age and experience can be invaluable in a lot of spheres. It would be a wonderful   if such pettifogging could be dispensed with for we, the youngsters, are keenly watching these super seniors for direction and purpose. They may fade away from the professional arena, but the light left behind lingers. And, they nor we would want a gust of petty, silly wind to blow it all away.

FAMILY-SHALL IT SHINE ON OR BURN OUT?

The banana muffins are baking in the oven and a delicious aroma wafts from the kitchen. And it calms my frayed nerves a little. The past few days have been trying professionally. Amongst other things, I have been really bothered and concerned dealing with the woes of women. This is not the most original thought but nevertheless one can’t help feeling that these days, a woman is most insecure/unsafe within the family or with a loved and trusted one. Day in and day out, one personally hears or gets informed from the media about women being tortured, abused and violated. Domestic violence is on a steep rise and so is crime against women. Rape, murder, kidnapping have become more common than the house sparrow. It galls, frustrates and lets one to think that somewhere, our social institutions are failing miserably. The socio-cultural lag has persisted for too long to be taken as just another process in the entire scheme of social transition. The sight of young women displaying sindoor, red bangles et al- all the possible symbols of marriage with a child held at the hip and springs of tears welling out of eyes narrating the horror tales of their in-laws home makes me nauseous now. And when the gory tale of misery unfolds for the nth time, I curse the institutions of marriage and family for failing yet again to measure up to the expectations and emotional demands of people. Being a student of social sciences notwithstanding, my short stint in this service has been gradually making me a non-believer of sorts in the very social institutions which sanctify a person’s existence in the society. A beloved betrayed, a wife deserted, a child uncared for and unattended to: incidents such as these occurring with alarming regularity don’t inspire one to have much faith in the existing social fabric. And when the mind is animated with cynicism and frustration, alternative models of live-in relationships, open marriages etc seem attractive.


In the last fortnight, I somehow go to watch a few superhero movies..Indian as well as English. Blessed with powers extraordinaire, the so- called super humans try to maintain the world order and check the anarchist and destructive intentions of the evil powers. Funnily enough, all of these movies have a similar theme. Evil is evil because it has been deprived of tender human emotions which are born and nurtured in a family; be it Voldemort, The green goblin or Skeletor. And our specially endowed superheroes are unfailingly good and kind and courageous for they have been cradled in love and affection. And that is what has made them different, made them special, given them stupendous powers. For the Harry Potters and Spidermen have been loved, have loved back and have lost their loved ones, they realize the value of emotional bonds and risk their very entities to ensure that the same are maintained. And when our superheroes are in mortal danger, it is always the unconditional love of the family/parents which helps them scrape through. Even our homegrown superman Krrish gets a new lease of life out of filial love in the recent edition of the movie series. Of course, all these movies are so much about stunts, technical imagery and mind blowing animations that we rarely notice the finer nuances crafted into them. However, it is a telling point that whatever be the era or the age or circumstance, family and the love that envelopes it can never really go out of fashion.

As students, we read numerous research papers, articles and even entire books committed to the institution of marriage and its natural corollary, family. Of course, there have been numerous debates and contentions, but everyone grudgingly agrees that we may manage without conventional marriages but we just cannot do away with the family. Therefore, it is particularly heart wrenching and distressing to note that now, families have become virtual hot spots of violence. Spouses sparring and warring with each other, children warring amongst themselves or with their parents to the extent of causing mortal harm have become routine. The love of the family which is supposed to light up the sky is actually just not there. All the fermented hate is threatening to burn the social and moral fibre. The sad part is that this sort of anomie, as depicted in all these superhero movies, will only spawn evil. For good to breed and blossom, we need our parents to teach themselves and their children what loving, caring and sharing is all about. Imperfections exist, problems do arise but then, it is only by engineering our way through these problems that we learn to persevere and sacrifice for the family and therefore, live together as a unit.

Though getting enmeshed in such emotional brouhaha is easy, it is definitely not the solution. As I see it, incidents of domestic violence and crime against women are increasing rapidly because somewhere we have ceased being responsible. As women, we aren’t responsible enough to handle our rights, as parents, we aren’t responsible enough about the welfare of our children and as children, and we are just not responsible to the needs and requirements of our parents and/or siblings. Various social, political, economic and legal forces are at play in bringing about such a deplorable state of affairs. The problem being so complicated, solution also cannot be arrived at a jiffy. But if there is to be a beginning, it has to happen through our agencies imparting informal and formal education. Before the heat and the hate generated in families blows us away, we better learn that hate has never really won. Not even in the most ambitious and fantastic of movies.

SO NEAR AND YET SO FAR

Our town municipality went to polls a few days back after some hectic campaigning, rabble rousing et al which have now come to characterize elections in any part of the country.  Amongst other notables,  the lady chairperson won again by a thumping margin-a wonderful example of woman empowerment. However, there is a chink, a huge one. Since the time I joined in this district which is roughly a year ago, I have been witness to mass cribbing over the state of the district headquarters.Young and old,                                     students, intelligentsia, women and even politicians have bemoaned that the Municipality and its chairperson are simply defunct and it is for all to see. Roads exist just in name, mostly, they are small arteries joining potholes the size of Vesuvian craters; garbage dumps create an unsightly view and raise a huge stink at all places, drains don’t exist and wherever they do they have been clogged since a long time, street lighting is poor and no public amenity seems to be properly maintained. This in a town known to be the home to some of the prominent freedom fighters, writers, educationists, politicians and visionaries of the state. A town which has a prominent place in the tourist map of the country and is also the home to a missile test range which gets frequented by scientists of national and international renown, all through the year. Yes, the living conditions in the town have been appalling and I always thought that there was a huge merit in all the virulent complaints against the elected members constituting the Municipality. Therefore, when the elections were announced, I could understand all the feverish political activity and the fervor surrounding the entire process. Maybe, the people wanted change and I felt they truly deserved it. However, all my optimism was pretty short-lived. Once campaigning begun, it appeared as if there was a mad rush among candidates to appease the voters. Not through emotional speeches or vacuous promises which would have put any lovelorn suitor to shame but through rampant cash mongering. It appeared to be a test of who could muster the wherewithal to make the highest bid for the voter. Of course, with the administrative machinery exercising maximum vigilance to deal with unethical practices, the cash and freebie peddling was not a blatant road show. As it is like with all things in this country, the important deals happen behind curtains and under covers. Our people might scream their voices out and go teary eyed regarding corruption and all other evils afflicting our society, but when it comes to making a little personal contribution to the cause, we come to a naught. We would rather grab that Smartphone or that bicycle or those caches of liquor bottles being offered by a candidate to ensure our electoral support rather make an informed, just and fair choice. All this  seems an ode to hypocrisy, especially in a country where Anna Hazare and Arvind Kejriwal were being hailed as the new, modern icons in a corruption beleaguered nation a few summers ago.   Somebody put forth an argument that poor people cannot really be blamed for getting lured into this ugly web. Really? Is poverty the single big qualification which can be taken as an excuse for all the wrongs? Somehow, are not we poor because we are so corrupt in our individual thoughts and practices? It is just not that we are poor financially; we seem to wallow in social and ethical poverty as well.

I ruminated for a long while as to what my angst was really all about. I was surely not a stranger to the practices and intentions of our people. This perfidy in the name of democracy has been in existence for some time now. Was it the direct confrontations with such double speak which was creating such a bother? Partially, yes. The realization that all the anti-corruption self-righteous movements led by the bright, young people of our country are only but storms in a teacup brings in a tsunami of pessimism. However, the real angst is about the fact that the people of this town (which incidentally boasts of a very high percentage of literacy) have again lost the chance to make a choice which might have given them an opportunity to be able to enjoy the benefits of an urban life. For the next 5 years, the Municipality shall be graced by the same nincompoops of the previous term who filled in their personal coffers at the cost of larger good. Why? So that they could afford to dole out expensive bribes or throw mutton feasts right before the elections and get the next term assured. Who really bothers about ramshackle living conditions? My worry is not about the elected but those who elected. The feasts would be forgotten in a week’s time, the few thousand rupees would be spent in a month, the free saree/dhoti might just tear off after six months and the phone would conk out in a year. What would remain are the same potholed, bumpy roads, badly lit environs, tricky public amenities and a general grumble regarding the sorry state of affairs reminiscent of medieval times. What would also remain are incidents of women getting molested in dark streets, people suffering accidents on bad roads and children suffering from dengue/malaria because nobody really bothered to clear the massive garbage dumps.

As for myself, I pity my spine and back for the nth time as my vehicle bumps and swerves through the roads of the town. And then, I look up, catch the sight of the lovely near full moon giving a teasing look through the branches of an old tree..and then, all rancour is temporarily forgotten. The milky orb seems to beckon to forget all man-made follies and rejoice in its heavenly beauty. And, I dreamily submit.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              

THE YEAR GONE BY

I turned a year old today and just realized that this blog also turns three this month. Though I had been largely inactive in blogosphere, I guess I am back for good. It does feel nice to get back to putting down one’s thoughts and opinions in black and white. That ways, last year has indeed been a year of ‘getting back’ to lots of things I had forgotten or neglected in a wave of melancholy. Why the melancholy is altogether a different matter. As I sit back and think about it, it does gall that I did lose some very precious years wallowing in an ocean of self doubt. Not that I am finally out of it; there are slips and relapses but what makes me really happy is that now I at least know how to deal with such situations. My last birthday had brought with it a new posting, a new phase of life which, at that time, had seemed so daunting. Demanding it has been and also a strain on all the reserves of my physical, mental and emotional strength but, at the same time, it feels nice to realize that I have come out of it pretty unscathed. And in the journey of this past year, with all its personal and professional challenges, I did manage to do certain things I have wanted to do since a long while. I am quite excited that finally I learnt free style swimming. Not that this was the first opportunity. But on all earlier occasions, I couldn't really learn because of paucity of time or some injury or the other. Finally, I did manage to ‘bell the cat’ this summer. It was nothing less than a personal victory. And, I have relished the moments in water under a dazzling, blue summer sky. Trees swaying in sync with the evening breeze, chirping birds and a general quietude at the pool complex did a lot to calm my nerves which invariably get frayed after office hours.

I admit my profession has taken away a lot of my personal space and life has been pretty much hectic and exhausting. But still, it has been a lovely feeling to get back to certain quirks I used to have long back. One of them was listening to music which I had just given up a few years ago. The only gyan on music came from random TV surfing. A few months back, I bought a whole collection of music CDs after a long, long time..and finally resurrected my music system. And as the strains of lovely, soulful music fill up the air these days, I always wonder how I did manage to do without it in the first place.

Of other things, I taught myself to bake breads, to devise new ways of spending quality time with my baby, to leash my temper, to talk nasty with an even tone, and got back to giggling unabashedly and not necessarily in that order.

Basically, it has been quite a journey, a decidedly choppy but one of those where you are glad that all is well that ends well. And I make a birthday wish for myself that the ‘wellness’ factor continues to persist in my journey to attain peace with myself and with surroundings. So, it’s another year to look forward to, to wish myself that all those lovely people who faithfully stand by, through smiles and tears, cheer on!                         

IS SELF-EMPOWERMENT A FAR CRY?

This Monday, a poor but respectable looking Muslim lady came on grievance at the Block Headquarters of the district. Genteel  and with a look that she has seen better days, she  put forth that she  has been widowed for some years and had no means of leading a respectable life with her children. On grounds of absolute poverty and destitution, she was requesting for some litres of kerosene from the Public Distribution System. Though her problems had nothing to do with me, my curiosity was aroused. I asked her a few details about her family and then I asked her that vital question which was bothering me throughout her piteous narration. Being a single parent is never an easy task and no child/children can be reared in modern times on a few litres of kerosene bequeathed by the Government.  Was she employed and if not, why was she not looking for some avenue of employment to fend for herself and her family? To me, the very idea that a meagre supply of kerosene would provide for her subsistence seemed atrocious.  Initially, the lady was taken aback by this volley of questions. She thought it over and replied that she was semi-literate and therefore, getting a job would be difficult. I further prodded and found that she had some basic skills in stitching.  I volunteered to find her some apprenticeship at a local tailoring shop which she flatly refused.    Again, offers to liaison her with some NGO so that they could help her start some stitching business from home were also dismissed.  My dogged persistence for over another hour to find her some way of earning a respectable earning sadly met with failure. I may be wrong but I conjectured that the lady was not really interested in helping her own lot. Not for her, the sweat and toil and sincere efforts to make use of all her talents and provide well for her family. It all boiled down to bottles of kerosene.

I did feel sad for the lady but even sadder about the fact that after all that we are talking and claiming to do, self-empowerment in the little pockets of India doesn't even exist as an idea. It is not fair to generalize on the basis of one case, but for over a year now, I have been a witness   to scores of able bodied men and women clamouring for government funds to make a hut, get an umbrella and most importantly, to get their hands on  that  alchemist’s stone-BPL card ; which is seen as the solution to al financial issues.  I agree that there is nothing wrong in demanding what is our right but then, from another perspective, would not it be so beautiful if the young and the young at heart people of our country could make use of their hands, feet and those singularly gifted brains to generate their own incomes and make themselves self-reliant rather than wasting their time in waiting for government sops. When we talk of a shining India, maybe we are talking of this kind of scenario only.  What is disturbing is that this scenario seems too far off. Our people simply do not want to put in their hard work and efforts in a meaningful manner. In some instances, there is a lack of sincerity, at many others, a lack of able guidance. They seem to still believe in Karma, cry about their misery and wait for the other to do something for their cause.and nobody seems to tell them that the only person who can better their cause is they, themselves.I believe, in a lighter vein, that the stories of Eklavya or Chandragupta Maurya or even Shankaracharya need to be retold to our children; stories of how brilliant young   minds with no pedigree backing them blazed the trail by virtue of sheer will, dedication and hard work.  

As a part of the administrative system of the country, I do feel concerned about the perpetuation of this ’culture of poverty’. A laptop here and a few hundred rupees allowance there cannot and have not been  able to deal a blow to the endemic poverty afflicting our country. And the persistence of this culture is the reason for a number of socio-economic and financial problems bothering us, not to speak of exponential growth of crime, criminals, anti-socials and the ensuing law and order issues. we are slowly becoming a nation of squatters and shortcut Romeos. What we require and need to cultivate are men and women who are replete with confidence and self-belief  and who are willing and able to rise above their miseries by their own undaunted efforts. Not for them the wasting away of man hours standing in queues begging for some paltry grant. I  believe we all will have a reason to smile and cheer when our folks sweat it out and also enjoy their fruits of hard labour. Till then, gloom prevails.                                                                                                                                       

                                                                                                                                       

ONLY IF WISHES COULD BE HORSES...

   With the number of files and pending work in my office assuming terrifying proportions, of late, I have been besieged by the urge to run away from this madness. I guess it happens to every person once in a while. The hitch is that it has been happening to me pretty often in the last couple of months…I seem to be in a state of flight even in my dreams! Psychologists may dub it a state of escapism…from the realities of the world. Whatever said and done, I must confess that there is actually a burning desire to go away and do all the little things which makes one’s spirits twirl around merrily. In  such a frame of mind, this poem came into being.

                                                                    DESIRE

Desire burns in my heart..every day,

To soar high up to the fluffy clouds

And envelop myself in those snowy blankets.

To dive down that mysterious azure sea

And gaze at mermaids and playfully tweak the huge octopus.

To sit lazily on a rosebud waiting all night

And drink the dew as it mixes with the nectar on that pale red petal.

To be that happy season of spring

And make the trees flower and blossoms break into a jig.

To caress the glowing cheek of the infant

And bask in its dimpled smiles and delighted gurgles.

To travel in a quaint caravan through the sun-painted dunes

And hope to meet a pharaoh looking for his lost treasures.

To trek up those lofty Himalayan peaks

And listen to life’s philosophy at the foot of the mystic whose wisdom the world seeks.

Set me free for I am restless,

The unknown beckons and I must say

I leave now for I wish to explore the world that lay

Beyond these walls….

A world that is exciting and gay.

WHILE THE COUNTRY REJOICES…

The monsoon is increasingly on the wane even though cyclonic depressions persist off and on in my part of the world. As the sky turns grey and gloomy , friends and relatives scattered around are making enthused calls to discuss their plans for the soon-to-arrive festive season. Early birds are booking tickets for travel; enthusiastic shoppers are making the most of the sale season and shopping till they drop- all in preparation to make the most of the holidays in the coming months. And few like me, are looking at the red marked days of the calendar with a fair amount of dread.

It is surprising and even unfortunate that when the entire country is gearing up to celebrate a dozen pujas and festivals which dot the calendar in the coming months, we, the people in uniform, are gearing up for nothing less than a battle. For, in the present context, festivals assume sinister proportions when it comes to the issues of maintaining law, order and peace in the society. In my stints in different parts of the state, I have been regularly observing, much to my discomfiture, that festive season is the opportunity when our people think it is the ripe time to dig out old wounds, flare up tensions and generally disturb a tenuous social fabric. Come the festival season and our police stations are besieged by groups  nursing wounds against their own group or some hostile one, arising out of some inconsequential matter. Yes, we are there to help out but what appears particularly disconcerting is that absolutely regular and otherwise sane people become totally rigid, are unwilling to see reason and sort out the issue amicably. Very often I have wondered as to why these people want to waste their time and act like killjoys. Across caste, creed, religion and race, haven’t we all been taught that festivals are the time to forget all grief and grievances and to rejoice in caring, sharing and giving. Sadly, it is not to be.

Come festivals, and people in the nooks of the country suddenly turn violent, irrational, sectarian and chauvinistic. They are on the lookout for opportunities to settle old scores and even out personal or group grudges. It seems as if the feeling runs strong that the administration is bound to deal with such nuisance with soft hands since it is festival time and so the license to all mischief mongers to run amok. Therefore, what should ideally be a time to make merry actually turns murky. I have often noticed  that  particularly, processions involving idol immersions are actually  open air discotheques for all the drunken hooligans of the area who are also drunk with the confidence that they outnumber the police personnel and the latter would turn a blind eye to most of their wrong doings considering the sensitivity of the situation. Being held at ransom on these occasions leaves a bitter taste in the mouth. One is helpless. Yes, we do take a whole lot of preventive measures but nothing is enough to meet an entire mass bent upon creating and perpetrating mischief.

Having ruminated and deliberated over this issue many times, I feel that our social character and conduct leaves a lot to be desired. As a society, we are increasingly portraying ourselves as an intolerant, impatient mass given to lawlessness at the drop of a hat. Not an image to be proud of. Especially, in an era where the level of progress and sophistication attained by a society is measured in terms of the willingness and eagerness of the people to abide by the law of the land. We blame a whole lot of factors for the present state of affairs but I believe that primarily, as individuals and as members of some group or the other, we are failing to evaluate ourselves. We are failing to introspect, failing to understand that such base conduct does not contribute to our self respect or win the respect of significant others in the long run.

As , we get ready for another festive season, another season where groups of people will be ready to slug it out over some flimsy issues, I go green with envy thinking of my friends and relatives enjoying themselves to the hilt. As they bring out their festive fineries , special recipes and holiday brochures, I try to think of some ingenious solutions to make peace between warring parties so that the coming season is relatively peaceful. So much for our bubbling religious fervor!

ON DOING NOTHING

Every evening, I need to cross a railway check gate in the outskirts of the town to go to the swimming pool. And invariably, the gate is always closed around that time to allow some train or the other to pass through. On all these occasions, it is always a delight to sit inside the vehicle and observe how people around take to this sudden halt to their daily business. Most often than not, I find people fretting, grumbling and complaining about this forced wait. They, after all, have important things to attend to and a wait of 15 minutes is such a criminal waste. Is it?

I habitually find that the betel and tea shops of my small town become abuzz with activity around dusk. Menfolk, irrespective of age, gather around these shops and while away hours altogether. I have nothing to complain regarding this mode of leisure. But yes, I do wonder that as a society, as a country, why do we stir up a fuss of being always so busy, always in a hurry and always so very impatient? Many a times, I have had the strong urge to roll down the windows of my vehicle and tell people at the railway crossing that the skies wont collapse on their heads if they stood still for a few minutes, enjoyed the breeze around and didn’t take pains to dodge below that gate, negotiate themselves and their vehicle through the tracks just to save a few minutes. Sadly, for all the efforts we make to be so fastidious about saving time, we are not exactly known as a nation of time-keepers. We are generally late in keeping appointments, meeting deadlines and are also known to be pretty casual about the sense of time. Then why this artificial hurry..this rushing around like headless chickens. It hardly serves any purpose.

In a similar vein, I find that there is huge peer pressure in my service to profess to be busy and be occupied all the time. So much busy that some colleagues openly flaunt their leave accounts like score cards: they have not taken a leave or gone on a holiday since ages as they are so devoted to their jobs on hand. In the midst of such seemingly career devoted workaholics and time conscious citizens, I get reminded of a beautiful essay I read in college. It was called “On doing nothing”. Herein the author had sung paeans on the pleasure of just lying down on the grass, looking up at the blue sky and just doing nothing. I believe such blissful moments of doing nothing are such an essential part of our existence. For they relax our minds, bodies and spirits and prepare us for the next challenge. I recall my French tutor recounting stories of massive traffic jams in Paris on Friday evenings for everybody wants to holiday over the weekend so that Monday can be looked into the eye with utmost courage. Compare this with our dispensation where an application for leave is met with utmost scorn and the applicant must explain his/her distress in most piteous terms to get the leave sanctioned. And heavens shall fall on the one who dares to take a leave to do just nothing..nothing at all. Yes, the idea seems preposterous to many. But for all this seriousness and dedication, our work productivity is pretty marginal. I am no theorist but I gauge that one of the reasons could be that we are perennially tired and bored. We don’t own it up but the truth is many lose interest in the work at hand. It is the drudgery and the lack of fortitude to own it up which makes us grumpy persons and professionals.

How I wish I could land a copy of that great essay and exhort people to take a break,....do nothing. It wouldn’t turn around our lives around, for sure. But maybe, it would make us a little happier, contended and give us the effervescence to smile during the next closed railway gate or merrily hum around in our offices on a Monday.

  

ON HISTORY

History- the very word reminds me of the troubled evenings and sleepless nights spent in memorizing innumerable dates and scrambling to differentiate between a Chola and Pandyan king. Or for that matter, labours made to cram all the vital details of the dancing girl of the Indus valley civilization or the height of the tallest temple at Khajuraho. History always seemed such a troublesome subject and I, like many others of my age, could never fathom why we need to know about all that is dead and gone. Not only know, but also remember and then give exams on the knowledge so painfully incurred. It never helped my cause that my father was a professor of history; all my loud lamentations against the existence of the subject were always met with disdain and vehement disapproval.


But, I figure, surroundings and atmosphere do have an impact on you. Surrounded by innumerable books on history of India and those of different parts of the world, I figured out on one particularly sweltering summer afternoon that history is much more than a jungle of dates and figures. What began as a way to while away summer holidays, soon became an area of great interest. I remember having spent weeks on end rummaging my father’s library and reading up on all the books on history just the way I would read a story book. Indeed, it was a fascinating journey through the glories, trials and tribulations of peoples and races all through the world across centuries. Not to say that thereafter, history, as a subject in school, appeared any less formidable, but yes, it was no longer a nightmare.

It was much later that I realized the importance of learning our personal as well as our social histories. Because it is this knowledge which actually tells us where we came from,who we are and where we are headed. As children and teenagers, the idea is totally lost on us. We really don’t care two hoots, coming from sheltered well-provided for families. I have always wondered as to why we sympathize with orphans? Just because they don’t have a family? Not the whole story. Our hearts go out to them for they have no idea who they really are, where they have come from and what defines their being. They are deprived of a sense of personal history, in other words, they are deprived of roots. And that probably, is heart-wrenching and cruel. If we look back, we find that during all conquests, the invaders would always attack the symbols of history of the group facing the siege. Amongst other reasons, the prime motive has always been to deprive the race under attack of the wonderful memories of its past; to deal them the most savage blow ever. For a group which has no memories of its past will lose its moorings and will not be able to sustain itself in the struggle for survival. It will not only lose a war, it also will lose out in a race of life.

As a matter of opinion, I believe that the pedagogy in our country should concentrate on teaching history to our children in a creative manner. They should be told right at the outset that it is nothing but a web of beautiful stories left behind for us by our preceding generations so that we can take pride in their achievements and learn lessons from their mistakes. History also is prone to interpretations, re-interpretations and on various unfortunate occasions, distortions. Now, the latter is a tendency which poses a huge challenge to the social fabric today and the onus is upon well-meaning historians and academicians to contain it. While reading a number of novels with plots situated in Europe or America, I have often noticed that in these places, even the smallest of towns boasts of a museum which chronicles and portrays the local history and is a major attraction for school children and college/university goers. Maybe, we should take a leaf from their book and think of introducing our children to the exciting world of our past by ensuring periodic and regular visits to local museums. Yes, we don’t have many, but it would be a nice idea if we could just use the available resources. We generally never think that visiting museums is a great idea to engage a day but now, we can give it another thought.

My dalliance with history is now limited to getting obsessed with historical novels or dreaming of a long pending visit to Egypt-the land of the oldest civilization or for that matter, occasionally trying to reconstruct the history of my forefathers. However what set my thoughts on history in motion was a random quote that the bird which seeks to soar high should forget the trees it nested upon. I could not disagree more. I believe that the bird should always remember the trees, the love with which they gave it shelter, allowed it to nest and took great care. This memory will give it the zeal and verve to soar higher and higher. And whenever, the bird is desolate, it will remember where it can go back for solace. History is precisely those trees..and we are the birds. We would do well to understand and remember the writings on the sands of Time for us to have the forbearance to strive to greater heights of success, as an individual, as a society.