Rocket Attack on AJ

This young man I know did his Diwali CSR or good deed or whatever one would like to call it by going to an old-age home and join them for a fireworks show. All very good, except that this boy is more-than-normal scared of fireworks. To his credit, he braved the fear and went to the show. He sat quietly, and watched others do the cracker job. Without much warning a "rocket cracker" (0r what was called whistlers in our times) shot across the ground and found a neat target ....... our dear protagonist's toes. The toes were singed, the young man bawled, a doctor was got..... etc. etc. etc.

The moral of the story :
1. At Diwali shows always wear shoes and socks, always wear full sleeved shirt and trousers.

2. It pays to study 'Rocket Science' perhaps ?????? Did the guy who lit the whistler read the science??? At the USA?????

I do not know whether to laugh or to condole, but it re-affirms by belief in 'armoured Diwali garments'.

of parents

Sometimes I miss my parents. A large part of my growing up years was spent with them, and much of what I am today is because I was the world to them, and in turn, they were important in my life. Ma was the first to know of any failure of mine. And Dad was the first to know about any new mountain that I had climbed.

They taught me Freedom. With a capital F and that meant Freedom of the Mind and of the Spirit. They also taught me Responsibility, that may arise out of Freedom ...... or the misuse of it.

Parents tend to fade away into the background over time.
That I guess, is the nature of life.
And children sometimes permit that to happen.

Make your parents relevant to your life.

Relevance. Significance. That is all they need.

All I have is yours to have.

I have been meeting a whole lot of young people lately. I meet and interact with the age 20+ and the age 30+ youngsters as a matter of routine .... as part of my job. Interesting young people, intelligent and bright. They, nearly all, seem to have clear and ambitious schemes ahead of them, and the pursuit of success and status take on a high priority. Clearly ambition and achievement are qualities held in special regard. Objects of material affluence are important to them.
That is the way society works ............
a) Success
b) Money
What the world measures you by.

I treat success with disdain. I smirk at its smugness. A recent mandatory appraisal at my place of work asked me if I was a success at my job. I have never asked myself the question.
Do I measure my success as a professor judging from the few dozen of CEOs and academicians I have tutored?
Or do I judge my success on the fact that hundreds of old students come back every year with girl-friends/boy-friends/wives/husbands/children/a dog, in tow to meet
"My Ma'am. Pronam koro."
To me the latter seems to be more important. Yet, when a publishing house of huge repute recently announced the top five young social scientists of India, three of the five were my students. I walked rather tall that day!
Actually there is only one form of success, and that is how successful you are in your relationships.How do you sculpt a long term relationship?

Of money, the least said the better. Money is so very non-contextual to me. I know that is not what I judge myself by. Neither do I judge others by it. I work hard and earn the money I think I deserve. I never have made money that I did not rightly deserve. I do not spend my earnings ostentatiously. I have all the material things I need, and what I do not have, I do not obviously need. I have earned other riches in life, I have got other wealth. Things money can't buy.

To the bright-eyed youth of today ..... Make money, make it honestly, but never for yourself. Always for someone else. Bring on a smile on someone's face. Let not "I want" or "I want to...." be a catch-word in your life.

I don't own any thing. All I have is yours to have.

Of Khokababus

When I got married I got introduced to a new set of men... male members of my new family.They were different from the males in our family. All at once I realised that I came from a family where the women were educated, broad minded, strong, vocal and definitely had an opinion. The men in our family, who were nearly all professors and lawyers by profession, were uber-educated, tolerant and peace-loving and that is why we children - girls and boys alike - grew up with a lot of freedom and space. The household (households, if you consider the extended family) was run in a fair and democratic way.

In my in-laws household, the males seemed to be domineering and very feudal in their ways. While we (in our childhood) were taught that it was uncouth to show arrogance, this new family of mine revelled in arrogance. This show of false attitude irked me for a long while. After a while I learned to respect the relationships (too late to cut loose), if not the men themselves.

This post is all about Khokababu - my new acquaintance. I have never ever known another person like Khokababu, and it makes me wonder about the male of the human species. This man is a stuffy pompous ass. He has an ego as inflated as a hot-air balloon ....and we all know how empty balloons are.This man (I cannot call him a gentleman) comes from a baniya Bengali family ( a very bad combination. Baniya Gujjus and baniya Marwaris are better people). The Khokababu was educated at an ordinary school (I have great respect for the term 'middle class' , and therefore will not use it here), and then at an upmarket College . What he does for a living is inconsequential, but his inter-personal skills are very, very poor indeed. The 'feudal bangali' attitude remains in him to the hilt. And the upbringing has obviously been poor because his unrefined ways shows in oh so many ways.

However, how he chooses to live his life is no concern of mine. Except that it left me thinking about such 'alpha-male' people that all of us have to encounter at some point of time. Why do these 'Khokababus" of society force themselves on others?

Why do others take these so called men lying down, and give in to their whims? A big pity that these sort of of egoistic, empty, arrogant, pompous people exist. Could their parents not teach them basic human qualities like tolerance, sympathy, compassion? Why is 'I' so BIG in their world? Followed almost immediately by 'MY'. .... .'MY IDEA'......'I DO NOT APPRECIATE' ...... 'IN MY OPINION'.........

MY dear man, does it strike you that your opinion, your appreciation, is not the end all and be all of everything. The sun doesn't exactly shine out of.........

The term Khokababu is used to denote these not-very-mature 'big boys' who behave like six year olds. Throw a tantrum when they are put in a situation of conflict. Pull on the 'I' act when their so called 'entity' is threatened and definitely behave in an all round uncouth fashion without any respect for age, gender, chair and most important....insaan.

From one insaan to another......can we not expect a little more refined behaviour from the Khokababus of this world? Can these pompous people grow up? And not be little boys. Could they face reality with some straightforward, old fashioned courage, and not hide away.(not that we want to see too much of them......)

Most often these people are not too above board and their skewed thought process would delight a psycho-analyst.

I have to admit that most men I have dealt with are fair and just. They have their quirky ways, but on the whole they are tolerant and gentle.Quite good company some of them......not so good the others.

The object of this post is to ask my readers.......do you know of such people? How many? How often do you meet this kind of Khokababus?Are they easy to deal with? I hope the Khokababus of the world are an abberation. I am sure they are.

Responses please.

R.I.P. the 'chowanni'

It was sad to read about the death of the 'chowanni'. At one time, many, many moons ago it was a much coveted item ...... came to us only on Saturday mornings. The 'chowanni' in the sixties bought me a bottle of Coca Cola (the 'asli' American stuff) and perhaps a toffee too. The Coke at that time was probably the most costly item on the 'chowanni' list. The indigenous "Jusla" or "Nimbula" cost 20 paise. Even in the '70s a 'banta' (in Delhi) would cost att anni .

A 'chowanni' got us a wooden top with a latti....... a great toy to show off ones skill in lattu khela.

In the rainy season with the gusty winds tugging at my wild unkempt hair, a 'chowanni' could fetch a few paper kites with some manja string. The joy of flying a kite from our roof top, with the wind tugging the kite high, high, high up in the sky was something nearly sublime. Hemant Jalan had once offered to do my school homework for the princely sum of a 'chowanni'. Unfortunately Dad got the wind of it, and the plan died a sudden death. When I was very, very young (in the Keyatala house), a copper paise with a hole in the centre got two gujias at the local mishtir dokan.

A few years later a 'chowanni' would take me to the school tuck-shop where a small bar of Cadbury's (white wrapper with purple logo) would cost 2 annas. That was the most expensive chocolate in our tuck-shop. Jujubes came for one anna for 10, and a biggish stick of barley sugar would cost the same. Lacto Bonbons and Morton's toffees would cost 5 paise for 10. The old man in front of the Rink cinema at Darjeeling would sell second hand Archie comics at 'chowanni' ........ this was the height of "contraband" in our school life.

Even as late as 1975, a soda-nimbu at North Campus would cost a 'chowanni' and 'char annar size' rosogolla was common in all mishtir dokan in Calcutta. In Etawa station a 'chowanni' could get us pua tak rabri. Plus the thrill of running after the Deluxe Mail with the rabri dripping from an indigenous leaf-plate. The sheer defiance of having a malai lassi in Banaras ( even after Ma had read the Riot Act on the consumption of street food) came at 'chowanni'. Just as much a 'chowanni' bought me strength and comfort in the cold December nights in Delhi in the form of samose aur malai chai.

The 'chowanni' could actually pay for a two-way bus fare from College in 1972 with 5 paise to spare, and when the bus fares went upto 15 paise, there were widespread protests in Calcutta. A 'chowanni' worth bus ride took me from Bhawanipur to Paikpara on the top deck of a No 33 bus, and brought me safely home with a return ticket. Those were great days!

It is a pity that the 'chowanni' died away in the great path of economic advancement. With it died a large part of my childhood.

A Legacy

My parents may not have left a whole lot of material things for their four grandchildren, but both the grandparents left a deep sense of music in all their grandchildren. My sister at one time could sing very well, she still can I guess, but I don't hear her sing very often. I cannot sing, but my love for music makes me go forward in my life.

The grandchildren were more lucky. The youngest (a violinist) has made music his profession, and from what I understand he is doing very well. The next eldest was perhaps the most gifted musically. An excellent pianist and a superb singer. He had got the pitch perfect voice from my mother. And his intense love of music from my father. In addition his ability to play nearly all musical instruments was probably God gifted, or gifted to him from my Bheblu-Mama. The only grand daughter got my mothers' voice. Almost the exact tonal quality and the empathy she lends to her singing. From my father she got the love for music, specially his intense love for western classical got carried over to her and she still plays the same on the piano. The eldest grandchild too loves music, plays the piano a bit. However, he has not got my mothers voice.

People leave behind wealth and riches. Oh, how fortunate are you four children to receive such priceless legacy. Count your blessings, children.

P. S. My parents left behind a love of reading books, and writing. More about it later.

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Let there be a seat for you

At the end of the road.

A seat for you to sit

And rest your weary limbs.

Let there be a golden sunset

To help you cross the way.

A sunset full of tenderness

To welcome the new day across.

Let there be a clarity

A vision which you leave behind.

No last thoughts, not a good-bye

But you leave with your head held high.

Let there be memories

Which we treasure.

But also let there be

A new world full of peace for you.