Giani Zail Singh - Limitlessness of Art and Craft of Politics

Reminiscences on his Birth Day

I can vividly recollect that it was around 21st of February; 1957.We had finished the sixth and the last paper of Middle Standard Examination in Govt. High School, Malerkotla. This Special examination, meant for the Govt. Middle Schools, was not mandatory for High Schools but we - the select three students - were sponsored by our school to appear for the scholarships awarded to those scoring high marks in this examination. I do remember that it was the time of the Second General Assembles of the States and the Lok Sabha Elections in India and the high-pitched propaganda by loud speakers was indeed in full swing. We could hear it loud and clear in the examination room, even though engrossed in solving our question papers.

The announcement on the loud speakers on that day informed that Shri Dhebar, President of the Indian National Congress, would address a public meeting in the evening in the ground of the Grain Market of the city. I got quite excited to have a glimpse of a leader who was the chief of the party of Gandhi and Nehru - the Party that had won freedom for the country. At the big public rally, I - then a child of 13 - was, however, impressed much more by the oratory in Punjabi and personality of a Sardar, immaculately dressed in the black Sherwani and churidars - and a well adorned white turban distinguishing him apart among the many crowding at the stage. He was soon holding the mike to introduce the frail looking Gandhian, announcing his full name - Uchharangray Navalshankar Dhebar Ji - and made a moving speech eulogizing the sacrifices of the Congress Party in the struggle for freedom. The name of this person, in his youthful early forties, was Giani Zail Singh, who was then Vice President of the Punjab Pradesh Congress Committee. I came to know that he had himself been imprisoned and tortured in the notorious Princely state of Faridkot. It was confirmed in the later years that he was a faithful friend of the freedom fighters in my town, Ahmedgarh, including my school teacher Giani Sucha Singh ‘Dardi’ and other popular patriots in the area like Sardar Ganda Singh Kup Kalan, S / Shri Babu Ram Sood, Amar Nath Jain, Ram Sarup, Hukam Chand etc –all Advocates and Praja Mandalites (activists against native rulers) - in the neighboring state of Nawab of Malerkotla.

After serving for one year as a lecturer in English in the DAV College, Jalandhar, I was selected for Punjab Govt. Service and served in Govt. College, Bathinda from Sept. 1967 to June 1969. My soul mate friend, Prof Sat Prakash Garg, was quite intimate with many political animals of the area including the several working closely with Giani Ji. I remember meeting one Zora Singh Brar. There were tons of stories floating about his deep concerns for the marginalized masses of the formerly PEPSU area under the oppressive feudal lords; his being a rare amalgam of being a devout Sikh and a truly secular nationalist; his abundant humanity and humility as a politician and above all his fabled generosity towards old friends of the era of freedom struggle, not to speak of his magnetic charm to win new friends.

Giani Zail Singh, on the right, after release from the
Raja of Faridkot's prison, with his elder brother and father.

The politics in the state had undergone a quick sea change in the wake of the reorganization of Punjab in Nov. 1966 after the formation of the new Punjabi speaking state. The next five years witnessed a game of musical chairs with six chief ministers warming the chair and the situation of instability resulting in grievous set back to the progress of the state. The limited factional agendas and divisive communal politics of the Akali Dal and the then Jan Sangh sowed seeds of many avoidable problems in the newly born truncated state. The turning point was observed in the horizon in Dec. 1970 when Giani Zail Singh emerged victorious in a by election in Anandpur Sahib. On the trail of this victory, I became an authentic witness to a rare comic-politico event in my home town, Ahmedgarh. Shri Kishori Lal, who claimed to be Giani Ji’s comrade during the struggle of the Praja Mandal epoch, in moments of tall talking in the company of fun loving friends in the Gandhi Chowk-the Hyde Park of my town, got tricked into a bet that he could get Giani Zail Singh to come to speak to the people in the Chowk within 24 hours. And, lo, behold, the waiting crowds getting bigger and bigger-around 10pm, Giani Ji was seen alighting from the old Fiat car, smiling and holding proudly the hand of Kishori Lal. Though looking exhausted, he climbed the make-shift stage and exclaimed in a deeply hoarse voice, "when old friends call me, come what may, I have to come to reciprocate their affection and good faith-I would continue doing so even when I am not in this world!." He, of course, cautioned Kishori Lal to be more prudent in future in staking their friendship over trifles. Giani Ji had surely conquered the hearts of all the people gathered there - I being one of them, now a few months away to join the Indian Foreign Service. I had the privilege to call on Giani Ji in Oct. 1972 in his office as Chief Minister of Punjab, along with three other IFS colleagues, after we finished our District Training Program in Punjab. My career in the Foreign Service resulted in my lying abroad for the most of the years of Giani Ji’s active political career till his last. It was, however, always so instructive - at times deeply disappointing and disturbing too - to discuss with good old friends the complex forces at work during the long dark period of extremist violence in the Punjab. Some of them opined that the return of Mrs. Indira Gandhi to power in 1980 with a massive mandate against Janta Party’s sickening internal feuds and gross misrule had the seeds of degeneration and decay of political proprieties in her party. The naked parade of dynastic rule; the rag tag of Sanjay’s followers; the principle of ‘poodle loyalty’ above all; ministers turning money - spinners and ‘masterly mishandling’ of situation in the Punjab consumed not only the last four years of great Indira Gandhi but also singed a promising career of youthful Rajiv Gandhi. Giani Ji was destined to play –or some times denied to play-the most crucial role in the events pregnant with most tragic consequences for his beloved Punjab. What an irony of history: the most valiant and most patriotic Sikhs had been at helm of affairs in every walk of national life of India since Independence till a devout Sikh was elevated to the highest constitutional post of the land.

With Indian Cricket Captain, Kapil Dev
and the Cricket World cup in 1983

The memories, anecdotes, jokes, gossips - good, bad and ugly - of the colourfully simple life of Giani Zail Singh (May 5, 1916 - December 25, 1994), continue ‘Google-searching’ in the ocean of my consciousness - some one who never knew him personally. The well wishers of Giani Ji - and also those not well disposed towards him - it is some satisfaction that the book, in the first person, titled, 'Memoirs of Giani Zail Singh, The Seventh President of India' compiled by S. Manohar Singh Batra, who in the words of Giani Ji, "is a highly competent official, a retired Deputy Director General of All India Radio … my Officer on Special Duty since early 1986", was published in 1997. The 50 chapters of the book, Pages 317, Har Anand Publications make an engrossing reading for all those interested in a turbulent period of India’s recent history. The politicians of Punjab have preferred not to pen their memoirs. Giani Ji too willed the book to be published after his death. The Indian politicians, perhaps, are extra cautious to keep all options open till the last breath - the political truth could be conveniently modified according to the attendant and evolving individual ambitions. Giani Ji could muster limited belated courage, of putting on record - in words of English - his thoughts and perceptions on some of the fiercest political battles of complex national challenges in which he was caught- some time firing political salvos, sometime in the cross fire.

Born in a humble home of a peasant - carpenter family in the most backward part of Malwa region of Punjab and brought up under conditions of acute physical hardships and missing formal education, Giani Ji had indeed continued confounding his admirers and detractors by his consummate political skills in the ever turbulent political waters of not only Punjab but also at the Byzantine Delhi Durbar. As a popular mass leader, he reflected the quintessential ethos and aura of the sufferings and sacrifices during the freedom struggle of India. He had few peers as a forceful and mesmerizing orator in Punjabi and Hindustani. He had an elephantine memory of old comrades and even faceless congress workers in the country and believed in helping them without their asking for the favor.

The admirers of Giani Ji ruefully remember how his caste conscious opponents in his home state of Punjab derisively called him ‘Gulli Gharh’ - the wood worker. Punjab has been waiting since long the change in the caste of the chair of Chief Minister. The quintessential son of the soil and ever a hard realist and nationalist to the core, Giani Ji wisely chose to be cremated in Delhi, in the vicinity of memorials of the Father of the Nation and the First Family of the country. How the nation will plan to remember him in 2016 - the year of the centenary of his birth - will is quite instructive to watch.

What is my Religious Identity?

For a liberal mind - perhaps, better to say, ‘liberated mind’ or ‘secular mind’ - in independent India, the word ‘religion’ - Dharma, according to the Hindu scriptures and Deen/Mazhab in the context of Islamic theology - would seem to evoke, on the one hand, the whole lot of the paraphernalia of the most inhuman ‘caste system’ which historically polluted even the other egalitarian foreign faiths landing in India and, on the other hand, the never ending bloody antagonism between ‘the But Prassat’ - the Idol Worshippers Hindus and ‘the Buut Shikan’ - the Idol Breakers Musalmans.

For a ‘secular’ - the word still remains ill defined and hotly debated - Indian, the troubles for humanity must have started multiplying with the invention of ‘My God versus Your God’. The races and tribes in different lands must have sought to sanctify their earthly greed and gains by invoking the supernatural authorities. The strictly selfish motivations of later day rulers often made God to be a stake holder in their nefarious ventures undertaken with their bigger battalions and deadlier weapons. The evolution of self perpetuating priestly classes must have soon become a formidable partner in the social dispensations as well as in times of peace and war. The mercenary invasions and conquests, edified as crusades and jihads, were followed by colonialism and political subjugation by resorting to horrible and despicable deeds in the game of one human group preying upon another.

In the sacred land of Bharatvarsha boasting the flourishing of ancient civilizations of Harappa and Mohenjo-daro, the soul stirring Bhajans and Dohas - the hymns and couplets - of Bhagats - the wandering saint singers - and the Qabbalis and Qaafis Sufi Faqirs - the integrating poets - proved indeed lasting but limited in their influence against the power driven engines of the state. To mention a few like Fareed, Nanak, Kabir, Ravidas, Ghalib, Sahir - representing the long lineage of inspired bards singing praise of One and Omniscient Divinity - even rebuking Him for tolerating injustice in the world supposedly sustained by Him - have all indeed endeavored hard incessantly to transform the ‘evil in mankind’ into ‘nobility in humankind’.

In a mysterious and fascinating process of spiritual awakening, every individual is undergoes a unique religious upbringing in the family, an illuminating experience in a multicultural environment of India. While one could afford to feel relaxed about the inherited religion depending upon the family traditions, it is the caste identity which has continued to play havoc with the young impressionable minds in the land whose length and breadth is often quoted using a withered phrase, “Kashmir to Kanya Kumari and Arabian Sea to Bay of Bengal”. The social-tsunami of ‘Mandalisation’ triggering ‘Kamandalisation’ has tragic-comically reinforced the socio-religious identities of the nation with a constitution clearly codifying elimination of all distinctions based on creed, caste, color, gender…etc. There is hardly a single day in the life of the nation without reports of serious clashes ignited by sectarian or caste issues. The shrieking lines of poem Sahir Ludhianvi sung soulfully by Mohammad Rafi, heard in childhood, continue ringing in my ears - “Jinhen naaz hai Hind par, voh kahan hai” - “Where are those proclaiming pride in the heritage of India!”

The 12th of February this year: a young school teacher turned enumerator for National Census - 2011 revisited our residence to record the second category of information on the socio-economic profile of the family including the ‘philosophically challenging’ question of ‘religion’ and the most explosively and divisively debated column of ‘caste’.

The response to ‘religion’ made me travel into the totality of the experience of how ‘religiosity’ has been assuming various contours in my consciousness. The earliest is a misty image of pilgrimage as a toddler with mother and her family to Amritsar. I remember being told that I had behaved with a seriousness and discipline far beyond my age while taken around the sacred surroundings of Harmandir Sahib, refusing to urinate or relieve myself till the holy site was out of sight! My tall and well built maternal uncle had been carrying me on his broad shoulders. He lifted me up to sway and ring the big bell hanging from the ceiling of Gurdwara Baba Atal Rai - in the process; I got hit in the face with some blood flowing from nose!

The childhood experiences of the religious kind, perhaps, personify the essence of spirituality - to quote Nida Fazli, “Baccha bola dekh kar, Masjid aalishan / Ek akele Khuda ko, itna barha makan!” - “Looking at the majestic mosque, the child asked - why such a huge house for God who is solitary and single!” The ceremonies of Mundan - the first religious shaving of the head; the Sunnat - the circumcision of Semitic faiths; the Janeoo - sacred thread, unshorn hair of a Sikh, etc, leave lasting impressions of religious differentiation. My upbringing was a subtle mix of liberal Sikhism and broader Hinduism - the unshorn hair but a non-Sikh name as per established family tradition adopted for a few generations in our own sect of Deewana Sadhus - the free mendicants. By the time I completed my two classes of school from the neighboring village, my grandfather had made me learn by heart, with intense affection, Hanuman Chalisa along with many Dohas and poems relating to Ramayana while grandmother made me recite Japu Ji and Rahiras - morning and evening Sikh prayers.

The deaths in quicker succession of mother when I was less than three year old followed by deaths of two beloved great grandfathers, maternal grandfather would seem to have struck strange awe and void in me. I recall that there was also the tradition of the family Guru - a Sodhi, supposedly a direct descendant of Sikh Gurus. When I was in the fifth class, the family Sodhi Sikh Guru, Baba Bhola Singh, a dignified person with well tied white beard and well dressed in ‘churidar-bandgala’ - a tight white trouser with closed neck brown jacket - said to my father that I was now grown to be ceremonially baptized as his disciple. I marvel at my father’s quick but thoughtful reply, ”Look, Guru Ji, things in every sphere including religious practices are changing so fast in free India; we don’t know what this child is going to be … let us not burden him with anything which belonged to a past tradition of our time.”

The atmosphere of my High School in the grain market town of Ahmedgarh during 1951-58, with its Gandhian and nationalist ethos and thanks to scholarly-secular teachers opened up, the gates leading to respect for all religions but malice towards none. The two years of graduation in the DAV College, Jalandhar made me conscious that communalism could go around camouflaged in subtle hues. I felt that Punjab, the land of the mighty minds and brave warriors, was cursed many times over to suffer grievously due to the narrow minded interpretations of the most universal of faiths born of its spiritually fertile soil.

I was destined to around the globe for my livelihood. The greatest satisfaction - I may say salvation - in my means of livelihood indeed was derived most loving cross-cultural and multi-religious experiences. The duties of lying abroad in the various lands including those of glories of ancient Persia of Zoroaster (628-551BC); the magnificence of Cordoba/Granada in Moorish Spain; the sands of liquid gold of the sacred birthplace of Islam; Armenia of Noah’s Ark in the mythological Koh-e-Kaff, not to speak of once-our-own Taxila – have made me belong to all the faiths of humanity but slave to no one.

The enumerator of Census of India quoted the rule book to tell me, “You have the choice to record in the column, ‘No religion’ but not to say, ‘Secular’. The word, ‘secular’ is yet to mature to be entitled an entry in the National Census of India - 2011. As for the conundrum of caste, the less said the better about, “We the People of India”.

I, as one of the most law abiding senior citizen of Independent India, would like to know - for how many more generations the people of India are doomed to carry the cross of unbearable divisions - in the names of murderous religions and killing castes!

As for my own ‘religious identity’ I may quote from ‘Prayer’ by Faiz Ahmed Faiz:

Aayiye haath uthaen ham bhi/ Ham jinhen rasmen dua yaad nahin
Ham jinhen soz-e-Mohabbat ke siva / Koee buut, koee Khuda yaad nahin.

Come, let us also raise our hands / We who do not remember the way to pray.
We, who except for burning flame of love / Remember not any idol, any God

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Faiz A. Faiz - Romancing the Revolution

Since my return to Delhi in retirement in 2004 after crisscrossing the continents for consecutive 21 years-including 777 days in Pakistan during 1992-94 - my 1st day of the new year has been invariably celebrated attending the day-night cultural function dedicated to the memory of Safdar Hashmi. Safdar was a political street-theatre activist in mid–thirties of his life when he was martyred on this day in 1989 by goons of a Party never tired of invoking the name of Mahatma Gandhi. This multidimensional event showcasing music, drama, poetry, painting, book-sale/souvenirs, etc - all embracing revolutionary, secular, progressive causes - has come to personify the touching simplicity and dignity of nostalgic grandeur of all that the Marxist and progressive ideology has stood for. The themes of 150 years of 1857 / Birth Centenary of martyr Bhagat Singh; threats to freedom of expression of artists and tribute to Chhatisgarh - theatre fame Habib Tanvir have been the focus of special celebration in the recent years. I have been expectantly looking forward to what signature tune - and tone - of the national cultural consciousness would be ushered in for the new year in the lawns of Vithal Bhai Patel House, boasting an all-weather-withered grass!

It was indeed immensely impressive and appropriate to find that it was ‘Faiz Hi Faiz’ as the theme of the year 2011 to herald the year long activities in India, Pakistan and all over the world - where ever a few ‘Deewanas - aficionados’ of Ghalib and Gorakhpuri’s medium of poetic expression happen to lie! As on 13th February, the 100th birth day of Faiz (1911 - Nov.20, 1984), more than 60 countries have already announced various kinds of functions dedicated to the memory of the poet with a global vision of the relentless struggle for the freedom, justice and dignity for the oppressed and exploited humanity. The internet has surely become the most potent instrument of revolutionary upsurges in ‘globally-wired-connected community’ - including the celebration of centenary of Faiz. The poet of people would have certainly penned his most lyrically eloquent poem in praise of ‘internet’ which has united the largest ever number of people in history!

The Safdar Hashmi Memorial Trust (Sahmat) function was indeed a very generous (the word, ‘Faiz’, interestingly means generosity, bounty, beneficence) and imaginative treat for the indulgent and ‘well-versed’ audience which included Minister Jai Ram Ramesh (not the slightest protocol fuss) and controversially dazzling Arundhati Roy not to speak of so many stalwarts of the progressive platforms led by historian Prof Bipin Chandra and jeans-shawls adorned youthful Tulba-university students. The Shamiana venue was tastefully decorated with the calligraphic posters of proverbially quoted shae’rs - poetic couplets - of Faiz. The popular lyrics - Ghazals - of Faiz were soulfully sung by Rekha Raaz while recitation of select Nazms - longer compositions - by film-maker activist Sohail Hashmi and scholarly Syeda Saiyidana Hameed were a rare delight to listen - in their impeccable Tallafuz-accent of Urdu which Faiz himself might have envied!

The solid and the most significant content of Sahmat function was, of course, the release of the ‘Faiz Centenary Special’ commemorative issue of quarterly in Hindi, ‘Naya Path - New Path’, Vol. 24, Issue 4, Oct.-Dec. 2010, Price Rs 100. The journal is an organ of Janvadi Lekhak Sangh - Peoples’ Writers Union. The impressive publication of 432 pages, with four portraits of the poet by eminent artists is indeed a collectors’ item for Faiz aficionados. The editorial under title, 'Yun hi uljhati rahi hai zulum se khalaq - the people have, for ever, risen against tyranny’ underlines that celebration of Faiz’s birth centenary is becoming a part of the incessant struggle of the oppressed against the oppressors. Faiz was a firm supporter of friendship between India and Pakistan and considered it to be vitally important for peace and prosperity in the region and beyond. He remained in the forefront in the movement for restoration of liberal democracy in Pakistan and his ideas expressed in exquisite poetry were indeed a source of strength, inspiration and solace for the terrorized masses. It is particularly pointed out that the publication has brought forth for the first time the views of younger poets of Hindi explaining how they are indebted to Faiz for their creative energy and inspiration. The special number has four parts - titled respectively, the Mirrors of Memories; Conversations via Letters; Faiz’s Select Poetry/ Essays and In the Eyes Literary Critics. The publication has even endeavored to bridge the Urdu-Hindi divide by explaining meanings of less familiar words in the select poetry in it.

The Faiz Centenary Calendar, 2011 released by SAHMAT has 6 evocative paintings by M F Hussain - 'Faiz - A Portrait'; 5 paintings with quotations of Faiz poetry - Aaj ke naam aur aaj ke gham ke naam… to the present and sorrows of present…; Zuban pe mohar lagi hai to kya… It matters not that the lips are sealed …; Mere Qatil, mere dildaar mere paas raho… my tormentor, my love, be near me…; Nisar mein teri galion pe ae vatan… I abandon myself defenseless to your streets ,my country…; hamne jo tarz e fughan ki thi qafas mein iizaad… lamentations which we had created in cage…. Mazrooh Sultanpuri is quoted proclaiming Faiz as the Meer Taqi 'Meer' of progressive poetry while Raghupati Sahai 'Firaq' Gorakhpuri observes that, "enlightened wisdom, sensitivity and artistic finess with which Faiz combined affairs of the heart with other social concerns was something novel and unique in Urdu poetry."

For me at a deeper person level, introduction to the poetic magic of Faiz was made some time in May 1956 during a local conference of the Communist Party affiliated Primary School Teachers Federation in my small town, near Ludhiana. I, freshly promoted to Sixth class, was hanging around the venue of the conference because my uncle, a teacher, was closely involved in organizing it. I can distinctly recall how the lines of Faiz’s celebrated 10 line poem titled, 'Tarana - Chorus Song’ recited by teacher Bahadur Singh had, as if, pierced into my soul. Later, I was to know more about this poem of Faiz but must quote first the memorable lines:

Ai Khaqnashinon, utth baitho,veh vaqat qarib aa pahuncha hai

Jab takhat giraye jayenge, jab taaj uchhale jayene….

Katate bhi chalo,barhte bhi chalo,bajoo bhi bahut hain,sar bhi bahut

Chalte bhi chalo ke: ab dere Manzil pe hi dale jayenge….

O, the oppressed, Rise up: Time has indeed arrived

When thrones will be pulled out, crowns will be tossed around

March ahead, even with limbs severed: arms are many, heads many more,

Press on, move forward; we would stop only at point of destination

The free translation by me cannot do justice to the ringing rhythm of the original. How fascinatingly strange that these very lines were echoing in my ears thirty two years later in the winter of 1978 in Tehran when I was a witness to surging street protests against the Shah of Iran!

I was further privileged in Tehran to enjoy the most instructive company of great poet and critic Ali Jawad Zaidi (1916-2005) who had himself been a leading light of progressive movement. Zaidi observes in his celebrated classic, 'History of Urdu Literature', "Faiz raised his voice in support of freedom of expression… He has created new symbols or imbued old ones with new meaning and has a knack for conveying … the most fiery sentiments in a misty tone which cast a spell on the reader … His real greatness lies in utilizing the traditional erotic imagery to express the patently social aspirations and conflicts without being obviously didactic about a theme which invites a semi-philosophical approach. He absorbs the agony of the wounds time has inflicted on his poetic being to recreate his experiences into a moving symphony of words."

When I landed in Lahore in the evening of 6th of September 1992, it was the lines of Faiz haunting my thoughts - "Ae roshnion ke shahar - O, city of Lights…" So many kind friends in Pakistan including Faiz’s poetic inheritor Ahmed Faraz narrated to me tons of anecdotes to bring out how Faiz was a (Sufi) saintly soul, a rare gentleman and a friend-philosopher to a generation of struggling creative individuals in Pakistan and India. The current state of affairs in Pakistan, particularly the atmosphere bloodily surcharged by the religious extremism in the wake of broad day killing on 4th Jan. of Faiz’s nephew, Governor of Punjab, Salman Taseer made Faiz’s daughter Salima to recall her father’s verse:

Jis dhaj se koi maktal mein gaya, baat yehi rah jaani hai.

Yeh jaan tou aani jaani hai, iss jaan ka rona kya kije.

The tale how proudly he walked to slaughter house, will endure forever

This life comes and goes anyway, what use is there to mourn its loss!

A statement made by Progressive Writers Association ( PWA) of Pakistan on Faiz centenary has emphasized, "…when identity of Pakistani people has been severely tarnished by self - appointed protagonists of Islam who are engaged in heinous crimes against humanity, there is no one better than Faiz to project the real self of the nation…". The PWA, Pakistan has invited all to protect and project all the ideals and central concerns of Faiz’s poetic vision. In Pakistan, the Association has called upon to promote peace and harmony amongst people of all races and nationalities, transcending religious, ethnic and linguistic differences and, globally, to represent Faiz as the ambassador of the soul and feelings of people of Pakistan, with the theme of Faiz centenary:

Aaiye hath uththaein ham bhi

Baraey aman-e alam aur insaani khushahali

Come, let us all raise our hands in prayer

For peace in world, and prosperity of all people

The two most esteemed souls I had the unique privilege to know and who knew Faiz so well - AJ Zaidi and Ahmed Faraz - would have surely more to add to the statement by PWA, Pakistan.

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The 9th Pravasi Divas - Signs of Diminishing Shine

The following article appeared in the online publication South Asia Post, Issue 127 Vol VI, January 15, 2011

THE Bharat Pravasi Divas(PBD) - the annual Kumbh Mela of Mother India’s children scattered all over the globe - was conceived and designed by the AB Vajpayee led NDA government to cater to the aspirations of India’s Diaspora Community for a renewal of cultural ties and playing roles in the feasible areas of mutual benefits. A lot of enthusiasm was generated during the two meets in 2003 & 2004.

Then the BJP faced an unexpected electoral reversal when people of India refused to be convinced of the slogan of 'shining India'. The UPA-1 Government was quick to create a Ministry of NRI Affairs - not a very thoughtful nomenclature which had to changed soon to Ministry of Overseas Indians Affairs (MOIA). The choice of Shri Jagdish Tytler as the first Minister was also to prove controversial and he was replaced by Shri Vaylar Ravi with the rank of a cabinet Minister. The experienced hands of Ministry of External Affairs (MEA) strongly feel that the new MOIA, grossly handicapped as it is in terms of both resources and expertise, is not an ideal arrangement - and that the MEA with an Overseas Indians Department can handle the matters of the Indians living abroad in a more competent and holistic manner.

The 9th Pravasi Divas held in Delhi from the 7th to 9th of January had all the standard ingredients of the previously set patterns. The events in India preceding immediately before the meet do cast a light or shadow over the deliberations during the conference. If the terrorist attack on Mumbai had its impact in 2009; return to power by the UPA-2 had defined the atmosphere in 2010. It might have been the whispers of recent spate of scandals of corruption filling the corridors of the PBD conference this time. The ‘feel good’ for Pravasis-Pardesis - could be as good or as bad as the Desis feel! The region of North East of the country had been show cased as the theme of the 9th edition of Pravasi Mela.

Before the formal inauguration of the meet the next day, there were series of seminars on 7th Jan for sectors of Education, health, Diaspora role models for the North East of India, initiatives by the Indian Council for Cultural Relations (ICCR). Minster Kapil Sibal said that the gross enrollment ratio of children joining colleges has been set to increase from 12 to 30 by 2020 and that it would require 1,000 more universities and 4,500 more colleges involving an investment of $150 billion. He further informed that the Foreign Universities Bill would be passed very soon. The MP from Canada Ruby Dhalla talked of opportunities to be made available for adoption of schools and classrooms by overseas Indians. The Pravasi participants sought more slots/scholarships for their children. The super technocrat and PM’s advisor on Education & innovation, Shri Sam Pitroda, addressing participants in discussions on, ’Engaging Young Overseas’ asked, citing example his own daughter, them ,’to discover opportunities and meet challenges of a complex and chaotic land’.

The seminar on engaging diaspora in public-private partnership in the sector of health was addressed by the Representative of World Health Organisation in India who pointed out that India, with 17% of world population, carried 21% of burden of diseases, many avoidable, causing an annual loss of $54 billion. Dr Ramesh Mehra, secretary general of the Global Association of Physicians of Indian Origin (GAPIO) informed that there are around 300,000 doctors of Indian origin working abroad and that they are keen to work in a variety of ways in India, including voluntary work, support in collaborative research and medical education. He further mentioned that 40.000 doctors of Indian origin work for National Health Service in the UK. A further 10,000 are retired and 15,000 are under training and that many look for opportunities in India - a scenario of reversal of brain drain. He also referred to the scope of research for cheap drugs but cited ‘bureaucratic obstacles...even in simple things.’ He drew attention to the issue of recognition of foreign medical qualifications. The discussions on Diaspora Philanthropy brought out interesting points. It was observed that while ‘charity’ was a gift of heart, ’philanthropy’ was ‘an act of head’ to make a sustainable change in the minds of people. Sh Sanjay Sinha ,President American-Indian Foundation, referred to its setting up of American-Indians Foundation in the wake of earthquake in Gujarat for people to people cooperation and that it has made investment in projects worth $65 million.

The discussions on investments by the PIOs/NRIs became livelier when the soft spoken Deputy Chairman of Planning Commission Montek Singh observed that India was not after their money if it was not profitable for them to invest here. It was mentioned that the figure for the FDI by Indians abroad was a meagre $26 million out of $ 27.2 billion. The remittances for 2009-10 remained impressive at $55.12 billion. The raising of references to Havala/black money caused raising of many an eyebrows!

The discussions pertaining to areas of Information, Communications and Entertainment(ICE) highlighted the range of enormous possibilities of building new bridges between India and her diaspora. It was noted that the emergence of digital connectivity has been a revolutionary factor in fostering power of social media. It has to be recognised that as the communication landscape gets denser, more complex, the networked population is gaining greater access to information, public discourse and coordinated action. The relevant organs of the Ministry of External Affairs, Indian Council of Cultural Relations (ICCR) and other agencies have to upgrade their digital interaction with the diaspora.

Prime Minister Manmohan Singh and President Pritabha Devi Singh Patil said what they were expected to say. PM’s announcement about the Right to vote by the Indians abroad, according to to perceptive insiders, is more of a tokenism involving a long process. The much mentioned ‘dual citizenship’ has been caught in a complicated debate over legal/security implications. Minister Ravi has rightly diluted it to the new Overseas Citizen of India(OCI) card. The plight of workers in the Gulf countries has been put into focus in the wake of several high profile criminal cases including those of death sentences.

The Chief Guest of the 9th Pravasi Divas Sir Anand Satyanand, Governor General of of New Zealand eminently deserved the honour bestowed upon him, being the only example so far of a person of descent of India rising to such a position in a predominantly white country. He narrated how his ancestors had departed from India four generations ago as indentured labour to Fiji from Uttar Pradesh and Andhra Pradesh respectively and how pursuit of education changed the destiny of his family. I had the privilege of a closer interaction with him as High Commissioner during 2001-03 when he was Ombudsman of New Zealand. There were a dozen more of Pravasis conferred ‘Samman’ for their for their contribution in community work and professional excellence.

Apart from the CMs of the North-Eastern States and CM of Haryana, Deputy CMs of Bihar and Punjab actively interacted with the diaspora and the media. Sukhbir Badal underlined the need for for an agreement with Canada to bring to book ‘the exploiters of NRI girls for marriages’ and cited a figure of 25,000 such cases. He also referred to the complaints of NRI’s ‘treating their parents like servants’. He announced that Punjab will set up a Commission for the NRIs-the first state to do so. The social engagements of the visiting high profile Punjabi NRIs made interesting page 3 reports.

The Pravasi Divas has, perhaps, over the years been evolving to assume the character of an annual Lohri Mela or even a fashion show for ‘pushy-high-heeled Indians lying abroad for their own gainful choice’. Time would seem have come to consider whether ‘annual hardy event’ should be made a biennial if not triennial exercise to be a more looked forward event reflecting a more rigorous and focused agenda. An old film song seems appropriate:

Ghar Aaya mera Pardesi, pyas bujhi meri akhiyan ki!
Darling one from distance, has come home
Thirst of awaiting eyes, has been quenched!

A Poet - Therapist of Pains of Punjab

Here is my article on eminent Punjabi poet Surjit Patar, who was recently awarded the prestigious award of Saraswati Samman.

During the long spell of my 'lying abroad' - 1975-'80 and then 21 consecutive years from 1982-2003 - it was my soul mate pen-pal Prof Sat Parkash Garg (1937-'96) of Bathinda who kept me posted till his last about the affairs of the beloved Punjab, particularly the developments on the socio-cultural and literary scene. It was he who had quoted (as advice!) Surjit Patar to me in one of his letters, "enna sacch na bol, ke kalla reh javen / Chaar ku Bande Chhad lai, Modha den laee - Do not tell truth to an extent to be left alone / Do spare four people to be pall-bearers." With the spreading of Patar's reputation for 'looting' all the Kavi Sammelans - Poetical Festivals - with his mesmerizingly melodious voice, I imagined him to be an inheritor of the mantle of inimitable lyricist Shiv Kumar whom I had listened and studied since student days.

The two recent functions in Delhi – one in Sahitya Academy and another to Award him prestigious Saraswati Samman on 17th September - established my literary introduction with Patar as a poetic-prophetic voice of my generation, in my mother tongue. I could recently finish reading all his poetical works in quick succession: I felt that his poetry has some thing about it comparable to the notes of agony and ecstasy in Bismillah Khan's Shehnai!

As an extra inquisitive student of the recent history of Punjab - the proverbial 'Land of Five Rivers', not to speak of 'Sapat Sindhu' of folk antiquity - I have been tempted to ask, "When was it that this land mass indeed enjoyed a period of a single generation of relative peace and progress since the celebrated poetic name figured formally in the official records during the reign of Emperor Akbar?" The popular war poem - Jang Hind - Punjab - by Shah Mohammad leaves me with a disgusting feeling that the destiny of the children of the Lion of the Punjab and the Khalsa Fauj was indeed fully deserved. One is grudgingly forced to seek some answer, with a substantive data, in the eight decades between 1880-1940 of the British rule when Lahore indeed emerged as a vibrant capital of commerce & culture and the province developed dream canal colonies. The revolution of rail / road transport had quietly knit colonial India together, never mind the 666 plus native kingdoms also flying their own flags.

Then, in the wake of freedom for the nation of Ashok and Akbar, befell the worst calamity of the Partition of the Five Waters. The arbitrary lines, drawn in a tearing hurry on the palm of Punjab by the white Sahib Radcliff, would transform for ever the Destiny of Punjabis - the Sikh in particular. The rulers in their new 'avatar' of politicians, representing characters in Mahabharata to the warring children of maker of Taj Mahal had their own selfish scores to settle causing 'collateral' massacres, genocides, mass rapes... It was left to the genius of Sadat Hasan Manto to tell the bitterest truths of the tragedies of the most madly partitioning of the legendary land of Buddha, Farid, Nanak... - but who cares to remember a Manto!

The poets have been becoming martyrs in the service of history by challenging the tyrants. During modern age of the M.A.D. - Mutually Assured Destruction - with the stock piles of nuclear weapons more than sufficient for decimating the planet many time over and the recent decades of mindless global terrorism, many of the soldiers of pen have dared to be warriors of peace in providing the healing touch and moral spine for the innocent masses who are victims of the oppression by both the instruments of state and those resorting to arms against perceived wrongs by the state.

Surjit Patar (Born Jan.14, 1945) has been acknowledged as the lyrically captivating and profoundly authentic voice in Punjabi poetry of the besieged Punjabis. He has been penning the most polished poetry without 'shying away' from the 'explosive' issues raging during the troubled times of terrorism in Punjab. A bright student in a village school near Kapurthala, he had shown an early promise in poetry and music which found a fuller expression during his studies in college. After completion of Post Graduation in Punjabi from Patiala where he met many kindred literary souls and later earned a Doctorate, Patar (pen name denoting softer version of the name of his village), joined the Dept. of Journalism, Languages and Culture in the Punjab Agricultural University, Ludhiana in 1971.

The city of Sahir - Wizard (of words) - surely provided Patar a stimulating atmosphere to grow pretty wings of poesy while working under Mohan Singh, the veteran poet of, 'Saaven Pattar' (Published in 1936). This was the period when the Naxalite movement involving many literary activists had been brutally crushed by the state and the ideological space was being contested, among others, by the Sikh religious revivalists. Surjit Patar got formally launched in 1973 when the ten of his poems were published in an anthology titled, 'Collage'. The poems including, 'Pachhon te Purvaiyya' - Eastern and Western Breeze'; 'Gharar, Gharar - Incoherent Word'; 'Budhi Jadoogarni - The Old Witch' and, 'Chaunk Shahidan - The Square of Martyrs' attracted critical acclaim for Patar's effective and subtle mix of the declamatory and dramatic elements in expressing challenging themes:

Mere Punjab ne taan bahut chir hoeya, Khud Kashi Kar layee si…
Te meri maut da maatm karan da haqq hai kewal havavan nuun…

My beloved Punjab committed suicide long ago…
Only Breezes (East-West) are entitled to mourn for me…

The excesses under the rule of Emergency and its democratically dramatic overthrow by the people of India and the Great Shia Islamic Revolution in Iran could be considered for Punjab the two defining events of the seventies. Meanwhile in 1979, Patar brought out a comprehensive collection of 51 Ghazals - the celebrated Perso-Urdu poetic form comparable to Sonnet - with the title, 'Hava vich Likhe Harf' - Words Etched in Air. Patar proclaimed, "the Ghazals have kept me attuned with my deeper attachment with music … they are written in conjunction with the totality of my poetic creativity … they don't denote some sudden impulse or toeing the tradition" - the couplets below would indeed attest his assertion:

Asan tan du-bb ke khoon vich likhi eiy Ghazal
Oh hor hovange, likhde ne jihre behir andar

I composed Ghazal delving deep into my blood
Others may compose it sub-merged under rhyme

Kadi bandian de vaang saanoo milia vi kar
Aiven langh jaanai, paani hava di tarah

Meet some time, like a person of flesh and blood
Don't pass by, sometime like water, then like wind

In the eighties, Punjab had started slipping deeper into a complex tragic abyss with continuous killings of the innocent blamed on the Sikh militants. The Operation Blue Star, the assassination of PM Indira Gandhi and the triggering of mass killings of Sikhs all over India created the worst imaginable situation in Punjab. The real culprits of letting loose the engines of evil, as it happens in such colossal tragedies, will never be clearly identified - one may be tempted to pick up a piece of truth one likes. Surjit Patar dared to take on the monster of hatred and meaningless violence with his piercing poetic utterances. To the immense delight and satisfaction of Patar's discerning readership, the two anthologies of his poetry were published in 1992, titled respectively ,'Birkh Arz Kare - A Tree Implores' and, 'Hanere vich Sulghadi Varanmala - An Alphabet Simmering in the Dark.'. Patar shared with the readers:

Meri Kavita mere har mausam di vithia hai
Bahuta mera, thora thorha samian da itihaas vi hai

My poetry describes various seasons of my own tale
Mostly it is personal, here and there bits of history of my times

The poem 'Dhukhda Jangal - The Smoking Forest' is an extended metaphorical narrative of Patar's poetic perceptions of the crippling pains of the body and the soul of the present 'One-Fifth' of the original (British) Punjab - attributed by perspicacious Marxist critic Tejwant Singh Gill to political paranoia as well schizophrenia. The Varanmala has a number of poems which have indeed acquired the status of classic commentary on the crisis of Punjab.

Lafzan di Darghah

It is, however, my literary appreciation of the recently awarded, 'Lafzan di Darghah - The Ultimate Court (Kartar di Katcheri) of Words' published in 1999 - the Tercentenary year of founding of the Sikh faith - which I had set out to share with the readers in this column. Patar introduces the book saying, 'To mould my anguish into a song / is my way of salvation / if the other doors are shut / here is the door of a court of words.' He is at gentle satirical best in poems like, "My Poem - My mother could not make any sense of my poem, though it was written in my mother-tongue"; "Here Came Nand Kishore … How intimate is the relationship / between language and livelihood" and, "Meri Jaat - And stating my caste, I felt tongue tied."

Enjoy reading and reflecting over this anthology of 73 gems of vintage Patar - poetry.
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Video of Surjit Patar with his collection Udas Dosto - Melancholic Friends

A Vintage Voice in Punjabi Poetry

The following article appeared in the online publication South Asia Post, Issue 121 Vol VI, October 15, 2010

THE kindergarten teachers know that poetry precedes in the mysteriously unique process of learning language by the tiny tots. The learned linguists attest that this beautiful phenomena is applicable to the over all evolution of languages of humanity too. To take liberty with William Blake's often quoted lines - "Breathes there a person with soul so dead: Who to himself a line of poetry never said"! The people have zealously kept alive the rhythmical words of poets, the mighty conquerors of human hearts: the great warriors and conquerors who built vast empires remain consigned to the dustbins of history! One should observe the grace and dignity with which people throng around the tiny – make shift - grave of Armenia-born Sufi martyr poet, Sarmad, in the middle of stairs of the massive Jama Masjid, facing the historic Red Fort.

The introduction to poetry, as if, dawned upon me - thanks to my doting and poetry loving two great grandfathers and the First World War soldier grand father - before I could make a sense of or speak a simple sentence! It was, however, in the last week of February 1952 when at the age of eight plus, I was witness to the crafting of a poem, in the early morning hours, titled Shubh Kaamna Suman Mala - A garland of Flowers of Good Wishes - by a Hindi/Sanskrit scholar friend of my father, to be read at the marriage of my paternal aunt - Bhua ji - on 2nd of March. I am glad to say that this composition, embroidered with classical imagery of celebration of spirit of Vasant - Spring - impresses me even today.

Enters Krishan Kumar - a poetically inclined, shy, smiling friend of my literary minded uncle - Chacha - who was more than eight years my senior. I vividly recall how Krishan had attempted the first draft of the Sehra - a traditional wedding poem from the groom's side - for the second marriage of my widower father, solemnized in a village near Rajpura on March 9, 1953. To my amazement, Krishan still remembers couplets from this Sehra! Krishan Kumar – I think that he had added Thakhallus - pen name - 'Ashant' - 'the Restless' - before he passed Matriculation in 1954 in the First Division, completing ninth & tenth classes in one year. He had side stepped sincere advice of his favourite teachers in M.G.M.N. High School, Ahmedgarh that he should not be in a hurry and that he should aspire to win a university scholarship. Krishan Ashant is understood to have convinced his teachers that saving of one year of life was more precious than the amount of scholarship! The philosophical and intellectual fascination with Time - the ever elusive, eternal and omnipresent, Kaal - in its myriad dimensions, had possessed our poet and futurologist much earlier in life!

It, therefore, came as no surprise when Krishan Ashant, as an under graduate student in Ranbir College, Sangrur, became a popular figure - with his fulsome poetic beard and a healthy frame of a college boxer - at Kavi Darbars / Mushai'ras that were regularly organized in the pulsating Punjab of fifties by Sahit Sabhas / Literary Circles fired with a genuine zeal for progressive ideology. Ashant's first anthology ,Taare te Kinke - The Stars and Specks of Dust - was quick to follow in December 1957, published by Lahore Book Shop, Ludhiana,; 1,100 copies; 128 pages; Price - Two Rupees! I think that several poems by this college-student-poet had fired the imagination of young readers and also attracted attention of encouraging senior writers. Master Ashni Kumar, one of Krishan's admirers among his school teachers, asked me - then in my eighth class- to write a letter of felicitations to the First Poet of our school, founded forty years ago. Ashant retains a distinctly sweet memory of that letter and flatters me for my neatly calligraphic handwriting in Gurmukhi! The following lines of the opening poem had become popular quotes for declamation contests in schools / colleges in Punjab, of the times when its boundaries embraced Delhi and Lahaul-Spiti:

Hasat rekhawan di chinta na karo/ Hatth sirjanhaar ne taqdeer de.
Ikk saya hai Khuda insaan da/ Rabb, banda rukkh ikk tasveer de.

Lament not over lines (in palm) of your Hand/ Hands shape your Destiny.
God is but a reflection of Man/ God and Man are cast in same Image.

Ashant did MA in Philosophy from Mohindra College Patiala where he shared roof in 'Bhootwara' - Ghost House - a rented accommodation fondly nicknamed and remembered as the legendary abode of extraordinarily talented students of literature like Gurbhagat, Navtej (Bharati), Harinder (Mahboob), Lalli, Gubux (Soch), etc. It was lovingly 'supervised' by an inspiring team of teachers led by the stern scholar, Prof Pritam Singh. Ashant, unlike his many friends who chose to be academicians in Punjab, decided to plunge into the 'big-bad' world of Delhi. The anchor was provided by his love marriage to a class fellow who became a teacher in the capital and allowed him luxury of shuffling jobs involving travels to distant and charmingly different destinations. The fields of his work in fast developing discipline of mass media brought him in intimate interaction with people braving acute urban rigors of shelter-less / jobless existence; the deprivations of the Tribal people ; dreams dying young all around; insensitivity of society at large…

All this resulted in, Shilalekh - Inscription in Stone - dedicated to his beloved wife, Kamal - brought out in 1978 by Aarsi Publishers, with a cover design by Imroz and sketches by Nikhil Biswas/ Dev, Price: Rs 10. In the 'Last Word' of the book, Ashant has confessed that for almost two decades, he could not write anything worth while because of an 'inner turmoil' about bedeviling realities all around Interestingly - and paradoxically - he turned to poetry to seek solace, "like crying bitterly over the dead body of a loved one and sigh as deeply as one can!" There are many subtle, memorably satirical, poems in this anthology. Janardan - Common Man - a poem of more than 500 lines - stands apart and is indeed of epic proportions in capturing an entire gamut of endless challenges of modern life. Meanwhile, Ashant had increasingly turned towards serious studies of Astrology and soon adopted it as a full time profession. He authored in 1994 - in Punjabi /Hindi - 'A Tale of 3 Evil (astrological) Houses', a product of lengthy conversations with Amrita Pritam and followed it with highly exclaimed texts titled, Lagan Darshan and Laal Kitab Jyotish.

Beete Nuun Awaazaan,
by Krishan Ashant

Since my return to Delhi after spending 21 summers abroad, I had been pleading - and prodding - gently and respectfully - with Ashant Sahib to share with his large circle of admirers all those poems which might have been lying in custody. It is, therefore, certainly a cause for celebration for all serious readers of poetry in Punjabi that, Beete Nuun Awaazaan' - Summoning the Past' - 49 poems and 12 Ghazals (Sonnets) saw the light of the day in August - thanks to Shilalekh Publishers. Here, we meet a poet of a mature vintage and a rare detachment who is reflecting deeply over eternal issues of human existence. The imagery, similes and extended metaphors are so profoundly rich in questioning both the day to day and the ultimate dilemmas of humanity. Ashant, poet-philosopher-futurologist rolled into one, is capable of enlarging the range and horizon of Panjabi poetry in this period of globalization - one should listen to the voice of 'Buddha Jand':

Ikk bande da khudi nun chhadd ke / Khud hi Khuda hona;
Alaamat hai ishak di…Mai tan Buddha Jand Han rohi da:
Evein jee rihan/ Aas hai ke ikk din aashak koee
Meri thandi chhan vich baithega aake!

When one transcends one's ego/ one merges into Him,
And that is a sign surely of True love.
I'm but an old Jand tree in the wilderness
Alive in aimlessness
But hoping that some lover might pass by this way
And take rest under my shade!

Ashant is firmly rooted in major Indian languages, scriptural mythologies, and has a full command over prosody and classical poetic devices which are amply reflected even in his Ghazals:

Tun Khuda si,tainu sharminda vee je karde asin;
Ess laee har kahar nun -kehnde rahe teri mehr
Main te jad jeevan da saghar rirkia,vish hi mili
Jhooth lagda kanth vich rakhi-Shivan saari Zehar

God, how we could make you feel ashamed!
So, we termed your tyranny too, as your kindness
Whenever I churned sea of life, I tasted only poison,
Seems false, Shiva has stored all poison in his throat!

Beete nuun Aawaazaan provides us the privileged to listen to a vintage voice of an immensely accomplished poet who traverses vast realms of heritage of Punjab echoing profundities – of past, present and future - having universal appeal. Poets are known for playing games with their real or poetic names - Ashant had also once toyed with Seetal Saroj - The Cool Lotus - as nom de plume: I hope that in the 75th year of his life, Ashant has attained 'the inner quietude' in its fullest poetic connotation!

Reflections on ‘PEPSU’ versus Punjab

The following article appeared in the online publication South Asia Post, Issue 119 Vol V, September 15, 2010

Nawab of Malerkotla, Iftikhar Ali Khan

THE title of this column might indeed bamboozle many readers except the senior citizens - more particularly, the pensioners of the government of Punjab. To decode the puzzle, PEPSU was the abbreviation of the newly carved out state - Patiala and the East Punjab States Union - in the wake of the independence of India. The ‘native’ - Princely - states which merged into the Pepsu included the four ruled by (Jatt) Sikh Rajas - Patiala, Nabha, Jind, Faridkot - while the rulers of Kapurthala were the descendants of the formidable warrior, Jassa Singh Ahluwalia (1718-1783). The Malerkotla Nawabs, Sherwani Afghans, traced their descent to Sheikh Sadruddin (1449-1508) who had received a gift of 68 villages to the south of the fast developing commercial and strategic city of Ludhiana, from Bahlol Lodhi, ruler of Delhi. Kapurthala State (with majority of population being Muslims) had two enclaves in Jalandhar district. The outlying districts of Narnaul, Dadri and Bawal lay in southern districts of East Punjab. There were islands of Patiala in the present Himachal Pradesh. The two non-salute States, Kalsia and Nalagarh, administratively affiliated with Patiala, were also incorporated into the new Union. The covenant of merger was signed on May 5, 1948 by rulers of all the eight states.

The PEPSU was formally inaugurated on July 15, 1948 by swearing in only the Rajparmukh, Maharaja Yadavendra Singh of Patiala, because the two newly emerged political groupings, Prajamandal turned Congress and the Akali Dal had failed to form a ministry. The confusion and disorder caused by terrible communal riots leading to departure / influx of Muslims/Hindus reigned supreme. The administrative culture of newly born state of Pepsu - with an area of 10,099 sq miles / 26,146 sq Km, population of 34,24,060 and annual revenue of 5 crores - was historically steeped in repressive feudal traditions. The people had been suffering from the ‘double slavery’, under idiosyncratic and pervert rulers who were themselves under the slavish subservience of the British. The caretaker government with Sardar Gyan Singh Rarewala, a high official of Patiala State and close relation of the Maharaja, as the Premier was installed under a stop-gap arrangement in August 1948. I have a vague but disturbing memory of bloody popular upsurge in Malerkotla against police repression in the wake of murder by angry mob on June 14, 1948 of Thanedar Kuldip Singh who had raped a girl when she was in his custody. This wave of lawlessness and dacoities led to the dismissal of Rarewala ministry and imposition of President’s rule.

The sharply communal overtones became pronounced rather early in the politics of Pepsu with the Akali Dal encouraged to entertain the notion that the Pepsu was the promised niche in India with the Sikh majority which must reflect their aspirations. The Congress, comprising of old Prajamandalites, did not have Sikh leaders of stature in its ranks. The Congress won 26 seats in the Assembly of 60 in the General Elections in January 1952 and Rarewala maneuvered to be CM again in April with the support of independents. The Rarewala Ministry was dismissed in March 1953 invoking for the first time provision of the failure of the Constitutional Machinery. The mid-term poll returned Congress with Majority with Col. Raghbir Singh forming ministry in March 1954. He died in Jan,’55 and was succeeded by Brish Bhan who remained in office till the reorganization of states when Pepsu was consigned to history with its merger into the new Punjab created on November 1,1956.

Having spent my early life, first in a small village at 6km from Malerkotla and then the family shifting to nearby town of Ahmedgarh, I have the most vivid memories of the regime of Pepsu - the five letters, as if, got engraved into my consciousness long before I learnt the English alphabet! The family records now confirm that my father, then 27, a scholar of classical Vedantic studies and rigorously trained to be an Ayurved practitioner - Vaidya - had embraced the order of Khalsa on July 26, 1947 with the Amritpaan ceremony costing Rs 7 and four annas.

His words, quoting Maharaja Patiala’s speech in Hindustani during public meeting in Ahmedgarh soon after, still ring in my ears - translated loosely in English, Maharaja had said, "Now India and Pakistan have become two different and independent countries … those Muslims who would opt to live in India would be provided full security of life and property … Nawab Sahib and his forefathers have enjoyed fraternal relations with us … due arrangements will be made for those who want to migrate to Pakistan … ". The Maharaja, however, warned that the Muslims staying back in India must be completely loyal to India without any secret love for Pakistan. He also criticized the Sikh leaders who raised the alarm of, ’Panth in danger’ saying, ’danger could only be to their pockets – to make fast bucks’ adding that Guru’s Panth would always march forward.

The question of my elementary school came up in 1949. I was going to be the first ever child to be sent for formal schooling in the long line of family of traditional scholars who were all taught at home. The District Board (soon to be called Goverment) Primary School in village Sohian, at a distance of about four km, but falling in the Angrezi Ilaqa was preferred over the lower middle school, Bhogiwal, about three kilometres away, located closer to Malerkotla. The widely prevailing impression was that the teaching was more systematic and effective in the schools of British territory in comparison to the Riyasati - princely state - schools. The school had two Kutcha rooms with a mud boundary wall but the classes were mostly held under the near by trees.

Pandit Lachhman Dass of nearby village Ram Pur, the senior of the two teachers, had been posted there for more than 17 years and was well known in the neighboring villages. The name of other teacher was Partap Singh, a Sikh with white beard, who also belonged to close by village, Rorian (near Malaud) - how did we children come to know that he was of Naee-barber- caste? The caste enumerators in 2011 can draw some conclusions for our Mahan Bharat! A palatial white building with tall trees around was visible from the school. We came to know that it belonged the Sardar –feudal landlord-of Sohian, called Kaka Ji who had been inducted as DSP in the Punjab Police; knew years later that his full name was Narinder Singh Phulka. On way to school amidst the fields, I remember how flocks of colorful deer and beautiful cows, called ‘Ram Gaooan’ used to roam about freely-those were the days!

It was 7th of May 1951. Leaving village in the morning, my grandfather and I waited for hours at Kup Bus stand to catch a bus for Ahmedgarh; a few buses that passed by did not stop, being too full. So we decided to walk under the hot sun to the Kup railway station at a distance of 3km.It was my first railway journey that I remember. Within a week, I joined the MGMN High School in the third class and Pepsu, Punjab, Bharat; Sansar started getting unfolded before me in my studies. My first visit to Malerkotla was as late as in Feb 1957 when I had to appear in a special middle school scholarship examination. After the last paper, I stayed back to listen to Congress President UN Dhebar. Giyani Zail Singh, dressed in black Sherwani, introduced in his eloquently impressive Punjabi the frail looking Gandhian leader, Uchhang Rao Navalshanka Dhebhar!

Ahmedgarh, though comparatively closer to Ludhiana and linked more to it for trade and other activities, has remained tied to the district of Sangrur and inter alia with the old Pepsu, I have strongly mixed emotions of love and hate with my Pepsu identity. The two years of studies, during ’59-61, in Government College, Malerkotla and the two years as a college lecturer in Bathinda in ’67-69 provided me with a wealth of contrasting experiences with my studies in DAV College, Jalandhar for graduation and Post Graduation in Government College, Ludhiana. To me, Pepsu seemed personification of feudal depravities and, rampant corruption, in its myriad hues. The peon of the Principal and the clerks in Malerkotla college; the clerical staff and even lecturers and Principals in Bathinda, I am very sorry to say, remind me of the most viciously corrupt and intriguing persons in contrast to many inspiring and most helpful functionaries I came across as student/lecturer in Jalandhar and Ludhiana.

When the Pepsu was merged into the Punjab, many like me, had hoped and prayed that values and work culture of Punjab will have a salutary influence on the Riyasati - Pepsu people. But, alas! the wheel seems to have turned the other way round: The ‘Pepsu–ization’ of Punjab seems to be full and complete; the theory of economics, ’bad money drives out good money’ rings loudly true in my beloved present Punjab. The ‘cash and carry job Super Bazaar’ going by in the name of Public Service Commission, Patiala run by some Super Sidhu should make an easy entry into the Guinness Book!

For many years, I had a mysteriously eerie feeling of journeying into ‘darkness’ when travelling towards Malerkotla and going towards ‘light’ when heading towards Ludhiana! It is now more a disturbingly depressing sense in undertaking journey in both directions - signs of slipping towards senility, sagacity or mere nostalgic non-sense … other should know better!!

A Mirthful Monk - Philosopher of Modern Epoch

The following article appeared in the online publication South Asia Post, Issue 115 Vol V, July 15, 2010

THE last week of May 2002: It had been less than a week since I presented my credentials as High Commissioner of India to New Zealand to Governor General Dame Silvia Cartwright. I was still getting accustomed to feasting my eyes on the breathtakingly beautiful view of the Pacific Ocean from my office, located on the tenth floor of the 14 storey building, 182 Molesworth Street, Wellington. At that moment on that particular day, I was, perhaps, a bit lost in thinking that I should send a message of felicitations to Sir Edmund Hillary on the 49th anniversary of the First Ascent of Everest, falling the next day, 29th of May.

I was suddenly informed by my Private Secretary, Gopal Wadhwa, that His Holiness Dalai Lama's Secretary had just telephoned from James Cook Hotel to inform that His Holiness had arrived in Wellington from Sydney and that he would be pleased to receive me. I felt as if a dream had become a reality from nowhere. A career diplomat, I had experienced the privileged duty of meeting many a high dignitaries of the home and foreign governments. Dalai Lama, the quintessential spiritualist yet steeped in all the high 'treason' of politics since the age of two when he was identified as the reincarnation of the Thirteenth Dalai, belonged to a category of his own. My own childhood images Dalai Lama and Panchen Lama in the news papers were the two of them looking dressed up in a sort of child entertainers, flashed before my eyes. I wondered that the Destiny had taken me also along an unimagined path since birth in an obscure village!

I, accompanied by my wife, was extra punctual in reaching the hotel to have 'Darshan'-holy sight- of the Spiritualist who, unlike many other spiritual personalities, has been known to be at ease in receiving female visitors and devotees. After an initial exchange of greetings and courtesies, Dalai Lama, in his famously familiar informality, surprised by us saying that he had been experiencing some pain in the stomach caused by, perhaps, an apple eaten during the flight from Sydney to Wellington. He asked us about our previous postings, saying that he liked our names - Anand and Aradhana, and even asked the names of our children. He observed that we had been posted to interesting countries adding that among those countries, he had been only to Spain (our other postings being to Iran, Maldives, Romania, Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, Panama ,Armenia). He wished us well during our stay in New Zealand,' a beautiful country with wonderful people.'

He presented both of us with traditional Tibetan scarf-Katag, putting them around our necks said laughingly that we could feel welcome into Buddhism, the faith given by India to the world! While we were taking leave of him, His Holiness again mentioned about the troubling pain in his stomach, blaming it on the apple which looked so beautiful. I was simply overwhelmed by 'abundant humanness' and 'simplicity of soul' of this 'spiritual giant' of our epoch. I was left wondering and reflecting all over again about the deeper symbolism of 'Physical Pain' and 'Beautiful Appearance' in the wider world around us!

The Dalai Lama the 14th in the line of the succession of incarnations of the Chenrezig or Bodhisattva of compassion of Tibet , has loomed large on the spiritual - and political - horizons of the world since his dramatic escape from the 'roof of the world' in March 17-31 ,1959 in the wake of the rebellion against Communist Chinese forces. During more than five decades of his life as a 'refugee extraordinaire', he has been assiduously leading pacifist resistance of his people against 'usurping Chinese Communist Imperialists' With the protocol privileges and courtesies extended by the government of India to him as 'Head of the Government–in-Exile' of Tibet', with its Headquarter in Dharamshala-literally the abode of religion- Dalai Lama has blossomed into an indefatigable scholar and rationalist interpretor of Tibetan Mahayana Buddhism. He is a tireless traveler as a spokesman for the 'genuine autonomy of Tibetan people in their home land.' He was awarded the Nobel Prize for Peace in 1989. The honorary doctorates and other distinctions have been conferred on him in dozens by the prestigious institutions of the West /USA. The government of China has been working overtime, in scuttling his activities by brandishing trade and economic muscle at his host countries.

The 75th birth day of Dalai Lama on 6th of July occasioned many high profile events including live media interviews with frank and uncomfortable Q's and his equally honest and forth right A's. The harshest reality would seem to pertain to his own life-he is not getting any younger and the Chinese are reputed to be the most patient in playing the game of Time! Many perspicacious Sinologists have drawn vivid scenarios of Chinese game plans when the 14th Dalai Lama would cease to be. Dalai Lama, however, assured his viewers on the NDTV interview on his birth day that reliable 'Tibetan Futurologist' have predicted a longer life for him-113 years to be precise! He observed that since the 'Tianamen Square', there has been a growing understanding and support among the Chinese people for the unique nature of Tibetan culture'. He is optimistic that,'perhaps a new generation of leaders will give the Tibetans the autonomy they want'. He steadfastly refused to play any blame game when asked about President Obama's initial refusal to receive him. He admitted that some sections of Tibetans are getting impatient and angry. To many a hard Q's, his impulsive laughter, as if, being half the answer!

I feel convinced that Dalai Lama has assured himself a place in the history of humanity. He has been never tired of being at pains to explain that, 'he, after all, is an ordinary, simple, just like all of us – a human being.' It is amazing that even his sworn political adversaries have not attributed any worldly scandal to him. He has been daringly candid to proclaim, "My views on morality differ from Buddhist religious practice ... morality and ethics must be secular and universal ... Buddhism is against homosexuality but I am not ... if there is love, compassion and consent, then it is alright ... He (Osama Bin Laden) is opposed to Saudi Royal family which is backed by the US. So his anti-Americanism is not based on religion but on political considerations..."

The observers of India-Sino-Tibetan relations had their antennas up last week when Foreign Secretary Nirupama Rao flew to Dharamshala on 10th July for, "closed door talks for 90 minutes with the Dalai Lama, in which high ranking official's government-in-exile including Prime Minister Samdhong Rinpoche participated." They speculated on the timing of the meeting – within days of National Security Advisor SS Menon's visiting China. Is this a part of some diplomatic shadow boxing ... way of some signaling to Beijing? China has indeed arrived, inspiring awe with biggest economic boom; the world also seems to await China's arrival in the range of freedom and democracy for her people - and the resultant moderation and responsibility in the conduct her international relations.

Addressing various forums in India, Dalai Lama has been fond of describing Indo-Tibetan spiritual relations with metaphor of Guru-Chela i.e. the Master and the Disciple. Replying to my question, during a recent lecture function at the Viveka Nand Centre for Strategic Studies, on the curse of caste system continuing to blight the destiny of India, he said that so many Shankracharyas and Gurus must come forward earnestly against the deep rooted evil.

Happy Birth Day to You, the 14th Reincarnated One! The world is keenly watching your Global Journey - with the hope that you will have the last laugh!!

Ocean of caste consciousness

The following article appeared in the online publication South Asia Post, Issue 114 Vol IV, June 30, 2010

India - Demographic Map

THE titanic decennial task of compiling the national census of India, the 15th since the first in 1872 and the 7th since Independence, has been billed as the largest ever such endeavour in human history. The exercise this time indeed involves much more than head-counting of her 1.2 billion people spread over six hundred thousand villages, 7,742 towns and cities of the 640 districts. Over 2 million of the census staff, while documenting persons in the families in terms of gender, age, education/employment will also enumerate the availability of toilet facilities, drinking water, electricity, the cooking medium, type of housing, etc, under some 36 plus 14 more headings in the census sheet. The millions of homeless sleeping under bridges, railway platforms, footpaths and other public places are also to be covered.

The census enumerators have been further mandated for the first time to record biometric data in terms of taking finger prints of each person above the age of 15 and also collect information on the usage of Internet, phones, bank account, etc. The data on finger prints, photographs - even of iris - will be linked with the project of National Population Register (NPR) assigning unique identity number to every Indian a card with 16 digits. The census operations will take 11 months, consume 11.63 million tons of paper and cost $1.9 billion. The USA is also conducting this year her 23rd census since 1791 and the exercise, apart from affecting the seats of each state in the House of Representatives and votes in the Electoral College, will also record the same sex marriages. The cost of the census would be US $11 billion.

While the Government of India (GOI) had grandly got all set to conduct the 15th national census, the argumentative Indian political players toying with 'the largest democracy of the world' suddenly got themselves entanged in a uniquely Indian epic combat of wits. To put the epic issue at stake in Hamlet's celebrated lines: "to count or not to count the 'Other Backward Classes', is a question; whether 'tis nobler not to ask the caste/or to put on paper an ancient painful truth ..." The splendidly intricate structure of walls within walls of the once upon a time scripturally structured mighty pyramid of castes of people of Bharat would indeed seem to require a contingent led by Lord Ganesha, the legendary scribe of Mahabharata. Lord Ganesha might further require a team of select staff on deputation from the office of Chitragupta, the Accountant-General of Hindu-Heaven to unfold and enumerate the details of the societal structural engineering attributed to Manavdharmasastra or Manusmriti and 'the 'second portion of Purusha-sakta hymn of Rig Veda', according to,bureaucrat-turned Acharya, Jagmohan Ji!

As for the identifiable protagonists for the 'caste counts', in the forefront are the Yadava-Trio supposedly speaking for the lower-middle-rung of the Hindu caste hierarchy. They insist that that the information so collated would be vitally valuable in framing more realistic policies for amelioration of condition of such segments of society as have been long pushed to the margins of the socio-economic development. Those who vehemently oppose the inclusion of 'Other Backward Castes' in the census 2011 sternly warn that the exercise is fraught with serious repercussions for 'the cherished ideal of nation building' and that the web of caste ratings is too messy to be logically separated and enumerated across the length and breadth of India. They point out that the inexperienced lower grade government officials-mainly school teachers-entrusted this task are the least competent to accomplish such a delicate task and that, in the given surcharged atmosphere, there is every possibility among many Indians to join 'a race to run backward!'

There is no need to labour hard to conclude that the most dehumanising institution of caste system of Hinduism - linking a person's worth to his birth - invented by ancient social-spiritual law givers has determined the tragic and turbulent course of history of India over the millenia. The Buddhism, Bhakt / Sufi movements, the new external and native faiths, modern reformers including Swami Dayanand and Mahatama Gandhi strongly challenged the system according to the circumstances of their time. The abiding bitter truth, however, remains writ large on the face and in the mind of India, "Jaati hai, ke jaati hi nahi-Caste has stubbornly refused, to be cast aside!" The founding fathers of the noble Constitution of India-including its chief-architect, Dr. BR Ambedkar - had a firm faith that the forces of democracy and freedom would soon bury the ancient caste divides replacing them with healthy politico-economic groupings. The nation would seem to have got reconciled in good faith to the various measure of affirmative action for those sections of society categorised as Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes who had been systematically subjected for centuries to the oppression of untouchabilty and total exclusion in education and worth while economic activities. As for the other categories of Socially and Economically Backward Classes, the state governments were considered to be in better position to take all necessary remedial actions.

The decline of Indian National Congress as a mainstream nation wide political party since 1967 general elections released the regional and caste dominant outfits. The process culminated under Janta Party in the Second Backward Classes Commission headed by Bihar Politician BP Mandal Government headed by PM MR Desai. The Report was implemented by PM VP Singh during the turbulent politically-divisive phase in 1990 and thus started India's new tryst with 'Caste-crazy' polity, which has found a resounding political echo for the counting of 'Other', what was earlier called, 'Socially and Economically Backward Classes' in the national census to be completed by middle of next year. It is indeed baffling to observe that so strong is the spell of, 'Caste Mantra' that almost no political party has escaped being 'caste-rated'. The Cabinet of Manmohan Singh displayed a 'split wide-open' and the embarrassment required a gag order. The discipline-conscious Sangh Parivar had to adopt a subtle 'scriptural' double speak but it was clear that the RSS considered caste count a conspiracy against Hinduism but Gopinth Munde openly supported the move. The issue seemed to pose a challenging the dilemma for the Dalit spokespersons - alas, they have no national leaders - while Boota Singh has supported the Caste counting. The Dalit ideologues, however, do privately point out that the resurgence of OBC's had a negative fall out for the untouchable castes in as much as several OBC castes are their oppressors in the rural India. The Left who now seem to ideologically occupying 'ground zero' were left to drift along the forces of caste count.

The large tribe of socio-political activists, arm-chair analysts, moribund politicians - particularly in the country's capital - have found a 'great cause' to espouse or oppose in the caste count. The Hindi journalist-activist Dr Ved Pratap Vedic has launched a forum, 'Meri Jaati Hindustani' and has succeeded in invoving several eminent personalities of the past in joining the campaign. The Manmohan Mantra of G.O.P, i.e. Group of Ministers, would prefer sitting over the issue as long as possible and then might plead lack of logistics for the cast count along with national census - may promise the count by other agencies till the political sea storm blows over. The shaming and dishonoring of India on the altar of caste, however, relentlessly goes on in the heart of Hindustan with brothers killing sisters and parents killing daughters for their fault of falling in love with someone whose caste ranking did not match with hers - forget what caste was the matriarch Satyavati and how her ascetic son Ved Vyas had to be summoned to carry forward the genealogical line of the heroes and villains of epic Mahabhrata! The Indians who seek to purge the Indian Social Ocean of the most devastating poison of caste should look within the ocean of their mind to rediscover the unfathomable beauty of uniqueness and sameness of humanity at large on our little planet of earth! By the way, the census report of 1931 had estimated the number of 'depressed classes' at 50,192,000 in the whole of (undivided) India; in the United Province ,they constituted 23 percent of the total population.

The sound, fury and music of new age journalism

The following article appeared in the online publication South Asia Post,
Issue 112 Vol IV, May 31, 2010

EVER since the 19 month long dark epoch of Emergency in June 1975 - January 1977 - infamous for the curbs on freedom of press - the media in India has been in a heady spin evolving itself in embracing new challenges in the professional and technological domains of globalization. The last two decades of India's tryst with liberalisation and economic reforms have witnessed the fastest growth of institutions of mass communications and journalism. A large corps of well groomed and 'brave hearted' journalists have been scripting their own concerns and core issues perceived to be affecting the lives of a billion plus people of India, a vast majority in their own age group. It is precisely with these thoughts that I chose to write about Annie Zaidi's maiden book, titled in the youth lingo, 'Known Turf'.

It was a timely phone call from Hyderabad that enabled me to attend the function of the release of the book on 23rd of April by Shri Mani Shankar Aiyar, the freshly nominated member of Rajya Sabha, with a well deserved reputation for his incisive and hit-it-hard views on issue of socio-economic development and secular polity. The venue, a classroom size conference hall in the Annexe of India International Centre, mostly frequented by the retired 'Big Babus', was, for a refreshing change, overflowing with young people attired in all their carefree variety. Sh. MS Aiyar, dressed in trade mark kurta-payjama, graciously apologised for being twenty minutes late, making a reference to the mention in the book (at Page 267) how the long waiting ladies had admonished him in political rally in Dehradun. He told the audience how he had to agree to meet the persistent author of the book on the suggestion of Mr. P Sainath, the well known columnist on the rural scene in India. He further said that his long conversation with the author about the brave new themes and then the reading of the book convinced him to release the book. He read a couple of passages and the engaged in conversation with the author to the immense delight of the audience. The deep sensitivity and sparkling sincerity of the author towards the people and their issues dealt in the book enlivened the evening filled more with literary than hard core journalistic air about it.

Coming to the book, subtitled 'Bantering with Bandits and Other True Tales', published by Tranquebar Press, 280 page, paperback, is, according to the author, "a collection of essays, drawing upon research, travel and personal history." The book indeed opens with the 32 page chapter about author's trip to 'daaku land' -the Chambal Valey - when travelling by Shtabadi to Gwalior in Oct 2004 in the wake of massacre by the Gadariya gang, she discovers that Phoolan Devi - the legendary ex-bandit 'queen' turned member of Parliament was also travelling by the same train. There are sensitive portrayals of the people of the bad land, invoking parallels with the Bollywood films and references to historical records. To quote the author,

"Finally, I think in our national imagination, the life of Chambal daaku may be forfeit, but it is life that serves as a testament to the oppression people once suffered, before somebody stood up and said, enough!"

The net section with two chapters describes demanding dimensions of travelling and staying for a female reporter in the 'rural heart-land' of India,

"I had not eaten all day and dared not get down at the station to buy food ... it was the first time in my life that I could not sleep because of hunger."

The third section with seven chapters contains respectively the touching accounts of malnutrition among children in Madhya Pradesh,

"I usually do not touch babies...I should not have picked her up. It is hard to forget the sight of baby eyes that don't look into your own .. I should not have held her, for I remember now that she weighed less than my hand bag ... Quickly, I handed her over to her mother and fled. Fled, from the baby who weighed less than my handbag."

Then the author navigates the reader into issues of death due to starvation, displacement of people in the wake of big dams. The picture of dying weavers of silk saris in Benaras tells it all,

"The Benaras trip was a difficult one ... it was here that I discovered one of the most awful things about being a reporter: watching grown men and women break down."

The deeper motivation for my sharing this book for the readers of South Asia Post pertains to Sections IV and V - from pages 91 to 161, which touch upon fractured body and tortured soul of Punjab as viewed and examined by an open minded journalist who makes an enigmatic understatement,

"There is a bit of Punjab in my blood, although I don't speak the language ... dancing to a series of Bhangra and Gidda numbers in school ... from movies, from songs and legend...Sikhism...Excitable tempers. Money. Rivers of milk. Lassi...voice came out garbled and, until work forced me to, I hadn't felt any desire to try and decipher it."

Then follows the true tale of Bant Singh ,"who was in hospital (PGI, Chandigarh) minus three limbs because he wanted his daughter's rapists to go to jail." The author met him in the trauma ward of the PGI and noted,

"At the end of the day, having filed my story and putting my notes aside, I had written a diary entry ... 'How does one react...look at the bandages ... Or do you look away, into his eyes? ... talk of the incident in detail ... leave as soon as you have the information you need because ...because what can one say any way?... And what do you do when a man minus three limbs in a government hospital's trauma ward begins to sing?"

The author is told by Dr Promod Kumar, director of Institute of Development and Communication that, "Bant singh case was actually part of a longer, more subtle resurgence of Dalits.' The author quotes social scientists,

"Punjab had class and religious conflict.The next big thing was pipped to be caste conflict..the state has one of the highest proportions of Dalit population: about 28.3 per cent (but own less than 2.3 per cent of land) ... in 1991,the scheduled castes accounted for 52% of the state's poverty statstics, more than a decade later, this had gone up to 62 percent (page 99) ..."

The essay titled, 'I'm Getting Out' is an anecdotal account of the youth of Punjab for their 'foreign land' craze. They don't mind adopting any method in pursuit of their 'dream', never mind cheating by agents. The young women are not behind - they become victims, in words of author, of 'marriage method.' BS Ramuwalia is quoted, "It is big business...racket is worth at least Rs 10,000 crores." The chapter titled, 'Prone to Bonding' narrates tales of bonded labourers in the neighborhood of Ludhiana kept by the landlords for petty loans. According to Dr Manjit Singh, a Sociologist, 58% of Dalit households were caught in debt traps, 'families had worked without any wages for as long as twenty years.' In contrast is narrated the tale of blatant loot of Rs 286 crore (Page 115) by Panjab's 'political who is who' invoking waiver of loans of the Panjab State Industrial Development Corporation (PSIDC),

"Here were people who went about in fancy cars ... It wasn't that they could not repay their debts. They just wouldn't. Yet, their houses weren't locked up and they did not have to go looking for community land so they could relieve themseves."

The realm of faith and religion is analysed with a rare detachment and depth in the three chapters of the section V of the book. The author explains how,

"Sufism caught at my soul the way no mainstream religion ever had ... essence of Sufism was an open door policy and a witty, defiant attitude to people who try to gain monopolies on redemtion and divinity ... The first serenade was poetic. Kabir ... Mira Bai ... Bulle Shah ... Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan's voice ... Rabbi's, 'Bulla ki jaana main kaun? - I do not know who I am ..."

The growing popularity of Sufi tradition, particularly among the Dalits has been substantiated with reference to the author's discussions with a variety of sources including veteran revolutionary Baba Bhagat Singh Bilga. The chapter 'The Influential Truth' provides an informative account of Dera Saha Sauda in Sirsa,

"Watching Gurmit Ram Rahim Singh in action on the day of the jaam-e-insaan ceremony, I had thought this was as close to conversion as one could get, if you didn't want to formally renounce the religion your parents were born into."

The author points out that,

"Personally, I think that people have the right change religion like they change houses..."

The author further observes, quoting Prof. Sewa Singh of Kapurthala,

"The (Sikh) clergy is not worried about small Sufi deras ... The real threat comes from these new deras headed by either Hindus or Sikhs. Their followers are often from oppressed castes and are mostly poor ... orthodox clergy is so worried about appropriation of the symbols of their own identity ... Sacha Sauda chief's name ... Baba Ashutosh's beard! .. Piara Singh Bhaniarawala's Bhavsagar Granth ..."

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The two essays in VI section with headings 'What Do You Fear?' and 'Something that Passes for Honest' contain the author's soul searching reflections on the tradition of 'devotion and openness' in the family of her mother. She expresses her deeply touching perceptions of shrinking spaces of values of accommodation, compassion and decency in the paradox of 'divisions' and 'consumerism' driven emerging society of India, asking, "question of 'what' in religious or caste terms." She makes a poignant confession,

"A lot of it has to do with being a Muslim, of course. I doubt I'd have resented the question so much if I hadn't felt defensive, if it hadn't made apparent to me that being a Muslim was not such good thing..."

The author describes, in touching poetic details, how her maternal grandfather passed away on 6 December 2004, the day of "the demolition of the Babri Mosque," eighteen years ago. One of the last literary tasks Padam Shri Ali Jawad Zaidi was engaged in, in spite of having lost his eye sight in later years, was the painstaking editing of the various original editions of Ramayana in Urdu, by Muslim and Hindu writers! The picture of maternal grandmother, a pious Syed Muslim and professed vegetarian too, also comes vividly alive. In the wake of Gujarat riots, the author posed herself the heartbreaking question, 'whether I belonged here, in this country.' The answer was provided by her weather wisened woman friend who calmly pointed out that,

"perhaps I should think about where else I could belong ... I thought about it and came to the conclusion that there was nowhere else ... A motherland ... like your own mother ... cannot backtrack on the option of being your mother..."

The last section of the book takes the reader back to plight of Bant Singh and his raped daughter, Baljit Kaur and enlarges the issue as a nation wide curse where, "as a woman, it is easy to become a victim." The gruesome tales of female foeticide are even sought to be explained by a well-to-do gentleman from Haryana as, "People have a right to make a choice." The author digs deeper into the cultural notion that

"you must give up a daughter completely, retain no claim upon her, economically or emotionally ... the boy brings home the bread ... a bride who will provide other services ... The girl is a drain on resources ... And people in India will go on saying that investing in the girl is like watering the neighbour's garden"

The author further points out that,

"there is more behind foeticide than women not being around for their parents. And much of that is rooted in 'culture'...So,though parents resent having to bring up a child only to lose her, they are also anxious to let their girls go..."

The chapter 'The Top One Per cent' analyses complex issues of the marital and family kind for the well educated, professional and independent minded women of the 21st century India. The essay 'Real Power' puts forward interesting explanations why women don't receive the just remunerations for their work and how the example of the ban in Maharashtra on dancing in bars, "did not recognise their right to use their bodies and their skills to their own advantage." The chapter 'Too Much Interest' strikes a few hopeful notes in women empowerment citing instances in Uttarakhand. The last essay 'And So It Goes On' conducts, as if an open heart surgery operation of the victims, with the author putting herself on the operation table for surgeon-readers. The most shameful affliction of Indian male, is euphemistically called 'eve teasing'. She makes a sad confession,

"over the years, I learnt that that harassment on the streets is inevitable ... Each time I left the house, an invisible snake of suspicion came winding down from shoulder to back and I stiffened with apprehension."

She concludes saying,

"Now, I find myself forced to acknowledge that it might remain a way of life; that I will never be able to relax in a bus or train or street or park ... I also saw what I had to do ... Keep confronting ... Don't let the fear take over."

I can say that going through Known Turf has been a very revealingly enlightening experience for me in terms of 'a dialogue of generations.' I was indeed so uniquely privileged to have discourses on the eternal and currently passing problems of humanity with the author's poet-prophet grandfather in Iran on the eve of Islamic Revolution. The author, with her maiden book and still shy look, has invited comparison among others with Arundhati Roy - I would like her to be linked to the lineage of Qurratulan Haidar also, the narrator of epic tales spanning civilizations, combining her professionalism of a 21st century journalist and a proud hertage of visionary poets from the sacred soil of her ancestors from Azamgarh and Allahabad. How strange that during her travels in Panjab, "Saadi Annie ...intelligent kurhi (Page87)" mostly interacted with the persons whom I had also 'discovered' around the same time after my return from duties across the globe for more than three decades!