Friday, 9 October 2020
Wednesday, 24 July 2019
Life
goes on
It was January 26th, 2004.
On the previous night I had got back from a voyage cum holy dip at the ‘’Kumbh”
in Allahabad and was narrating my experiences to the family at home in Haryana.
Suddenly we notice that the ceiling fan starts moving and in no time the movement
became vigorous. All of us reached out in the open for it was an Earthquake.
The radio confirmed in the next few minutes and the news of its intensity and
related destruction started pouring in with the death toll from two digits to
three digits and more. By the evening, the TV was showing pictures of
devastation in Kutch, Gujarat.
My town in Haryana is inhabited by
people that are sensitive to the need of the hour and take no time to
contribute in terms of money, goods and service. By the evening a Committee of
well-meaning Samaritans got formed and a call for contribution swelled the
donation boxes as also the collection centres for essentials and medicines etc.
In a couple of days there were six Truck Trawlers arranged free of charge by a local
Transport Company to carry the material to Bhuj in Kutch along with a team of
doctors, paramedical staff and volunteers consisting of 36 people.
Two days of continuous driving with a
night halt made us reach Bhuj sometime in the evening. The devastation that we
saw on the way was horrifying. Multistoried structures had caved into the
Earth. The stories of death and loss were on everyone’s tongue. People had
moved out of homes to live on roadside in the open and were horrified to think
of venturing respective homes. Having reached Bhuj, we looked for an open space
where the trucks could be parked, material unloaded for safe distribution and
we could pitch tents. Eventually we pitched tents, cooked Khichdi for a meal
and retired by midnight.
Despite the long treacherous drive
during the day and late-night retirement, all the volunteers were awake, ready
to work after the breakfast of Poha and tea. Teams of volunteers were directed
to go to different localities and villages for distribution of essentials and
medicines while the Doctors set up a camp to attend to the patients. Men, women
and children thronged the place and some local people were engaged as
translators to communicate for Hindi speaking doctors to Gujarati speaking
patients.
The people from neighbouring colonies
looked up at us as saviors and with much respect for having come all the way
from North to the bordering district of Bhuj in Gujarat.
Our group leader, a senior
well-respected person under whose directions and guidance the collections were
made was called ‘’Pandit jee’’ by the associates. He would stay at the main
store wherefrom the goods would be sent for distribution.
Some local ladies offered to help us
with cooking the rations that we had got for ourselves. There was this muslim
lady Zahira that was quite touched by the service of the volunteers and would
spend her time doing anything for them.
Zahira lived close to the Mandir
campus where we had pitched our tents and stationed ourselves for the volunteer
work. There were small two room apartments that were occupied by low
middle-class families. Zahira with the family of four children and husband
occupied one while she had Gloria, a Christian lady with her north Indian
Bansal husband staying in the next one room tenement. Bansal had been a
casualty of Earthquake while his full-term pregnant wife Gloria with apparent
minor injuries was admitted by neighbours to the Government hospital. Gloria
gave birth to a baby boy on the 28th, two days after the quake with
a premonition that she would not live. She knew that Bansal had been shunted
out with all relations snapped by the family in the North. The only loving
relationship that she had was with this Muslim neighbor who would give
emotional security to the child. She sought her word that she would bring up
the child as her fifth. Zahira in an emotional mood gave Gloria this assurance
giving scant regard to the financial difficulty that she and her Mumbai based
taxi driver husband faced in running a house with family of four children.
Gloria’s premonition turned true. She
died of no serious medical issue. The neighbourhood community with the
Government help buried her in a simple manner. The child was simply handed over
to Zahira by the hospital without raising issues of custody, parenthood etc. So
much death and destruction had been seen by everyone that they had become
humane and not too strict with the legal formalities.
It had been a fortnight since the day
we came to Bhuj, Kutch. The aid was evenly distributed and we were not left
with enough material to keep us purposefully occupied for more than two days.
It was then that at evening meal time Zahira shared information about the child
as also about the financial limitations that she and her would face rearing him
up. It was just two days back that she had got the child from the hospital and
a long life ahead realized her of the associate problems. A subtle hint if
someone would be interested in having the child made Pandit jee call a
childless couple in Haryana. The couple sounded very keen and offered to start
immediately for Bhuj.
All this while Zahira had got to know
that Pandit jee and team were well meaning people and her intuition told her
that the child would be safe and secure for life. She confirmed and in the next
48 hours catching buses and multiple mode of transport the young couple from
Haryana arrived. We were all packed to leave when the couple entered the campus
of the Mandir. A small ‘Puja’ was performed hen the Muslim neighbor on behalf
of a Christian mother handed over the child for adoption to a thousand miles
distant Hindu couple. Pandit jee named the child ‘Sanjog’ meaning coalition.
Today this 15-year-old is a young forward-looking
lad knowing least about the Earthquake that moved him to different longitude
and latitude.
Have
fun and don’t be naughty Varun
They say that the generations change
in every thirty years. Its true. But what about the cultural change? It is much
faster and ahs changed the lifestyle and life.
This is about this nineteen-year-old
young man that moved from a small Punjab town to neighbouring Delhi for
postgraduate studies. In small towns of Punjab in mid 1970s, the girls still
wore Salwar Kameez, more popularly called the Salwar Suit with Dupatta. The
fashion revolved around this outfit. Kameez would become long or not-so-long
and Salwar would change from Gherwaali to Pathan type or the straight simple
type. That was all fashion about.
The girls still grouped together
without any substantial conversation with the boys in a coeducational college.
That did not however stop the sexes to stealthily look and admire each other.
Delhi was modern in dress, outlook
and attitude. In the Delhi colleges young girls from the so-called elitist
background would wear Jeans and Pants with T-shirts or sleeveless blouses. It
was shocking for a Punjabi small-town boy. But Punjabis are known for their
flamboyance and adopting anything western.
The Punjabi boy that stayed in the
Delhi University hostel did not need a Mobike for the college was walking
distance in the campus. But having a Mobike was an in thing then and
facilitated to have a girl as a friend.
Varun, the boy from Punjab excelled
in studies as he did in sports. The independence and anonymity of a big city
made him sporting enough to befriend girl students. With enrolment in all the
social and cultural clubs of college and hard pursuit towards the goal, he
acquainted with this ‘damsel’ by Punjabi standards. The acquaintance developed
into a friendship and Varun was surprised to have got casual invitations from
her to visit home.
Varun had never spent any time other
than that in the college with her. She would come and go by the University
Special DTC buses that plied only for the University bound students from
different destinations to Delhi University and back. One day he proposed that
he was going to UPSC at Shahjahan Road that was not far from the Government
apartments and could drop her home. This was a chance that he was seeking and
lo it worked. He dropped her home on one summer afternoon, met the girl’s
mother and spent as much time as to finish the cold drink that was offered to
him.
He was very happy that he could make
a breakthrough, for it was an effort that he had been planning on since long.
Came winters and film festival was held in Delhi when shows of English and
foreign movies were held in different South Delhi cinemas. Varun stood hours in
a queue to buy two tickets for an evening show. He had never been to a cinema
with a girl and could not muster courage to ask his friend out. It was decent
to ask and seek permission from the friend’s mother to take the daughter out.
What if she felt offended and said No with a growl? He practiced several times
before asking the mother, “Auntie, Can I please take Ria to the movie show?”
“Oh yes. Have fun and don’t be naughty Varun.”
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