India Is Global Photo Challenge 2012

India is wonderful...
India is unforgettable ... it stays with you
India is wherever you are

Yes. Ofcourse. So here is the India is Global Photo Challenge 2012 on the above three themes. Deadline expires on November 30, 2012. Details Here.

Will it be difficult? Yes and No. Both for the same reasons. India is, you see, also very photogenic!

Rath Yatra 2012

Today is Rath Yatra. And getting back home would be a problem. But Kolkata Police seem to have gotten better at crowd management. We did not get stuck anywhere ... but that is perhaps because the Raths were going the other way! What with the metro construction on full swing on Diamond Harbour Road, all we could hear was the noise, clang of cymbals ... But just as we were going down Majerhaat Bridge, a smallish rath and procession passed us by. Oddly beautiful in the twilight.

"Hariye Jaowa Din", Reminiscences of Bina Dey

A hand-painted greetings card by Bina Dey, October 4, 1933

Photo courtesy: Mukul Dey Archives

It's that time of the year again: The International Kolkata Book Fair which begins on the 25th and ends on the 5th of february. And for me and art lovers, here is a treat to look forward to:

"HARIYE JAOWA DIN", REMINISCENCES OF BINA DEY

At the fag end of her days Bina Dey[1906 - 1999], Mukul Dey's wife, recounted the story of her life and experiences to Ms. Anjali Bandopadhyay of Kolkata. Since 1996-97 Anjali took a number of audio interviews of Bina, extended over a period of about two years. "Hariye Jaowa Din" will be a compilation of Bina's interviews by Anjali, which is scheduled to be published in early 2012 by Papyrus, Kolkata.

Bina's reminiscence recounts in great detail her first marital home at the village of Moluti at the Birbhum - Jharkhand border, when she was the bride of Sharadindu Chattopadhyay, a well known Congress worker of Birbhum.

Bina's book will have rich illustrations by Mukul Dey and others, along with an interesting collection of rare photographs.

My earliers posts on Book Fairs past:

Miles to go before we sleep

Kolkata Book Fair 2009

Elephantine Task

Two stories made it to the headlines today. One is an elephantine saga that has pretty much played out in public space, consuming public money, not to mention time. Shame that it does. The other has been going on for as long as one can remember. A long time. However, it does not take up much of public / media time and space. Only once in a while when a report is published. Shame that it doesn't. Yet, neither has any effect on anyone whatsoever.

208 elephant statues, 2 statues of Mayawati, several elephant door handles, elephant fountains, Mayawati pillars and chakras have to be covered before the UP polls. So they are being draped with pink polythene (neutral colour) since elephant happens to be BSP's symbol. 1.6km of pink polythene. And at a cost of Rs. 1 crore. And this elephantine task has to be completed by 5pm of January 11, 2012 to meet the Election Commission's deadline.

Well that was the first story. The other one is that 42% of India's children are malnourished and stunted. That is around 61 million. That is one in three malnourished child on the planet is an Indian according to the HUNGaMa (Hunger and Malnutrition) report. But here, alas, there is no deadline at all.

Full text of the Prime Minister's Speech on the HUNGaMa Report.

The HUNGaMa Report itself.

The World Beyond: Review

Another raj story; english girl meets her prince charming. And he is tall, dark, handsome and a prince to boot. A nawab. The inevitable happens. But does love triumph in the end? Well, you have to read Sangeeta Bhargava's The World Beyond to find out.

For me, what works and really well is Lucknow on the eve of and build up to the momentous uprising of 1857 soon to follow. She is the real heroine of the story. About those who love her and those who covet her, her rise and her fall. Some of the parts were so well written that I could see the story playout as if in a movie. Hmm. An idea that?

The beautiful cover - shades of blue, pink, red and gold is perfectly captures the essence of the world in which this story is paced. But one jarring note - the heroine is shown wearing a sari - how we wear it now. I think this was not in vogue during then. However a minor error...I need not be so nitpicking.

Blissful in Puri

This time in Puri a miracle happened! My meetings (usually endless & draining) actually ended at 5pm. The weather was on the verge of cool. Winter gone, summer approaching and so perfect for a stroll down the really wide Grand Road upto the Puri temple ... something I haven't been bothered to do or find time for, in earlier visits.

After a certain point on Grand road cars are not allowed. This is more than made up for by million cycles, motorbikes and scooters who drive around to some pre-programmed manic circuit. Cows lolled in the middle of the road, oblivious, chewing cud while the bulls stood immobile, impassive, as if they owned the world, which they quite possibly did. Those mad cyclists and bikers might run over an unsuspecting passer by, but never a cow or bull!

I savoured the cool air stopping occasionally at a road side stalls, often no more than wares spread on a plastic sheet selling local knick knacks or religious parapharnelia, to look at the wares

women rolling out endless cotton wicks for votive diyas at the temple

or take a photo, or admire an old building which suddenly would appear from among the usual ugly decrepit ones...

or asking a policeman to shoo away a calf trying to eat the leather seat of parked bike or help out a gujrati to explain that batata was aloo and sweet potato was Kandamul in Oriya (With the help of my Oriya colleague ofcourse)!

the famed chena pora of Puri

The man in bright orange reading (ramayan I imagine) adjusted his specs to pose for my photo

Mandirar Prasado, said the man pulling a van laden with earthern pots of khichdi, steaming rice and their aroma wafting...

I would often stop, savour the scenn around me....and don't quite know why, feel very happy. There I was among a million - none of whom I knew, but I felt not lonely at all! As the day faded into dusk and then into night, the wide Grant Road became, if possible, even more magical.

The crowds swelled all along the road right upto the the Singhadooar where the crowd at any time is impossible. Impossibly crowded that is.

Puri Temple Front

People from all over India and abroad .... all milling around with vendors, a few locals, police men.

We chatted with our usual chai wallah who told us about another owner who was making Rs. 10,000 per day and had three houses and yet lived in a rented accomodation of 500/-!!

As the night set in marriage parties joined in. We counted 4 of them. The procession of two parties had a brief clash - both sets of brass bands playing loudly made unique cacophony and the women (yes all of them) carrying the obligatory ornate lamps alongside the groom's bedecked car, got their wires entangled (which are wired to a generator on usually the last van in the procession) - after which, one got the right of way while the other patiently waited. Soon two more queued up with entire regalia behind this one. Sundry people stopped to watch the marriage parties file past. As I stopped to take a photo (at the absurdity) a groom obligingly popped his head out of the car - the photo alas was too dark.

Here was Lord Jagannath's lila in full swing. Pilgrims from all parts of India and infact the world, vendors, policemen, bikers and cyclist, cows and bulls, marriage party and police station ... every one on their own trip but somehow all united in some cosmic dance to an unheard beat. All swirling around the looming Puri temple of Lord Jagganath infusing everything and everyone with this otherworldly bliss.

Falling ill, in Chhindwara

Imagine. You are visiting a series of small towns in interiors of districts in a state you are not familiar with. You are far away from home, away from your comfort zone, away from all that is familiar to you. You are staying in perhaps the best place in town, which happens to be a lodge. And then you fall ill. Not cold or cough or fever. Malaria. Panic?

With 3 days left in my rather longish and wearisome trip, I woke up in my room at the lodge (the town’s best – but that does not mean much) with a mild temperature which by evening had turned to full quakes, chills and aches. When Clad in salwar, kameez, jumper, socks, one bedsheet, 2 blankets, I asked V (my young colleague) for another blanket, she panicked and rushed to the lobby for a doctor. Within minutes a doctor arrived who took one look at me and pronounced malaria. He prescribed the medication and then departed, refusing any fees. He was, he said, a friend of the lodge owner. The medicines arrived within a few more minutes.

Over the next one and a half days, till my departure, there was a steady stream of visitors. The lodge owner, the waiters, the house keeping staff, the sweepers, the security guard and even the driver of the lodge's own jeep. None for a gawk. All genuninely concerned.

And Vikas's Chhindwara narangi's were languishing in front me. V asked some one if they could squeeze out the juice for the patient. Sorry, juicer is not working. However a staff did turn up saying, shall I buy one of those manual ones? Only 20/-.Yes, please do, I croaked from beneath the blankets.He returned with a glass full of sparkling orange juice, a sight for my parched lips and throat. And plastic juicer, now washed.

Right upto the time when my car arrived for my trip back to Nagpur (for my flight to Kolkata), everyone kept fussing and clucking over me. And Ingleji, owner of the car rental came up to meet me. Usually, he sends the car over with the driver. "Suna tha ki aap ki tabiyat thik nahin hai. Taab toh aap ko dekhna hi tha"! [heard you were unwell. (so) I had to meet you]

And another 24 hours, I was back in dear old Kolkata and Chez parents, safe and sound and none the worse for my ordeal. Any panicking that was, was entirely by friends and family.

Small towns, I am glad to say, have very big hearts! Thankyou Chhindwara.

And did I mention, V (also a small town girl) kept calling me up at the right times to tell me when to take my next medication.

Gifted

I was in Betul and Chhindwara (both districts in MP) for a series of meeting with parents of deaf children residing in villages there.

At the end of day 1's session, Rambhaktji asked me hesitantly, "Will you like some?,

"What? I ask".

He put his hand inside the jhola he had on his shoulder and pulled out a handful of berries and tiny peas. "Hamare khet say". And then again and again, there I was, with my palms overflowing with ber and peas.

Next day, our last day in Betul, Harvinderji thrust a small plastic packet at me - gur, he said shyly.

And then there was Vikas in Chhindwara, sort of shuffling his foot behind my chair, waiting for the others to leave so that I was alone. "Narangi aapke liye, chhindwara say".

Three days, three gifts. A handful of berries, peas, oranges and a lump of jaggery? But what do you know, made me feel the most treasued person on earth, for some time!

The most expensive, unique, rare, difficult to find gifts are not necessarily expressive of the amount of love!

Miles to go before we sleep...

The International Kolkata Book Fair 2011 is here! I have already visited it thrice and feel like going over again, as are millions and millions. Did you notice the ramp at the Food Court? Did you notice the Food court? Did you notice how the road in most parts have been smoothened and flattened, easier to walk on? Well, its to a large part due to advocacy and lobbying by the West Bengal Disability Activist Forum (DAF), a state level forum of NGOs, Persons with Disabilities and individuals.

DAF has been lobbying with the Book Sellers and Publisher's Guild for quite sometime now on the issue of accessibility at the Book Fair. Apart from cordial meetings, nothing much came out of it, except in October. When the BS&PG "promised" to make the Fair accessible by issuing notices to stall owners to add ramps to each stalls and this was reported in the media too. So, DAF was understandably happy.

However, the single most important thing asked for and promised - the ramps to the stalls which were more in number compared to the Halls (which did have ramps) were missing.

DAF organised a meeting at the ampitheatre in the Milon Mela grounds and then all the participants, Children and Persons with Disabilities, parents, NGO staff walked through the fair and to the Publishers Guild were they demanded an explanation.

I guess the BS&PG were caught napping since surrounded by some 100 irate people and the media (who had sniffed a possible "breaking news"), they could only come up with silliest of statements and excuses: Not our responsibility / Why do they need to come to the book fair? / Why do they need to go to all the stalls (go only to those with ramps) / It is not possible etc / This is just a publicity gimmick etc.

The rally making its way to the Guild House

Surrounding the Guild house

Very few passers by (and there were many) stopped to find out what was happening. Most were curious or angry at their path blocked or aired summary statements - Jekhanei mohila sekhanei jhamle (there will be trouble when women are around) / They are angry since they haven't been given stalls etc.

This is not an issue in any developed nation since ramps have been made compulsory a very long time ago. Handrails, patterned floor tiles (for the visually impaired), ramps, wide doorways to accomodate wheel chairs, flat steps (for those using callipers and crutch) are inbuilt in to the system and never have to be mentioned.

Remember, India did sign the UNCRPD and with a flourish ... one of the first countries to do so. And yet, "eder ekhane ashar ki dorkar?" is the reality. All DAF asked for was a simple wooden ramp instead of steps at the entrance of each stall. Like Oliver, they dared to ask for more?!


But we live in hope. Six ramps (one at the food court, and 5 at the entrance of the 5 halls) is a begining. Our small rally might have started something good. But we have miles to go before we sleep ... to remind all of us ... that we (as a nation) have promises to keep.

Not going Swimmingly well....

Jharkhand is hosting the 34th National Games which begins in less than one month. So, a swimming camp has been organised for the 40 member contingent in Ranchi. Actually inside an appartment in Ranchi. Truly, if the report in the Statesman, 26th January 2011, is to be believed.

Apparently, they lie down on the floor and thrash their arms and legs about. Simulating swimming. The report also adds that nearly half of this contingent have never seen a pool having practiced in ponds and lakes.

I had to reread the item to make sure it was not a joke. Ofcourse, I almost missed this article tucked on Page 15, amid various articles on cricket.

So what? Nothing I guess. India's pride has already been salvaged, hasn't it? The rooms and facilities at GWG 2010 were found to be acceptable to all foreign visitors weren't they? GW games were for International teams, afterall, so the swimming pools for training would have been pools with water.

The Jharkhand swimming team, is like Oliver, asking for more. How dare they?

[Ps - I dont think they asked for a pool. The report stated that they felt demoralized. What an understatement that].

Why is Dr. Binayak Sen being Jailed?

Here is Why Dr. Binayak Sen is being Jailed?

Please watch this 11 minutes video, help spread the message. There are a lot of events, meets happening details available at Free Binayak Sen Campaign - join wherever you can or even if you can't, help spread the word. If nothing else, the very very least that we all can do is keep updated about the Free Binayak Sen Campaign instead of ocassionally hearing about him on the TV channels in between the film awards, reality shows and life styles of the rich and famous.

An evening of Pandavani

We was thrilled to get tickets for Pandavani performance and by no less an artiste than Teejan Bai. This was a part of the Lokaranga (a folk theatre festival) organised by Kasba Argha.

Somehow, all 6 of us managed to beat the crazy traffic and reach Madhusudhan Mancha on time. The enormous hall was fully packed with quite a few known faces - actors - film and theatre.

First, Sima Ghosh, disciple of Teejan Bai presented the Abhimanyu Chakravyuhu episode. The acoustics were not too great and the music and chorus drowned out Sima in parts. However, it was not difficult to follow her at all and everyone was rapt.

The Kurukshetra battle field came alive in front of my eyes and a young Abhimanyu, wounded, all weapons destroyed, weilding a chariot wheel as the last resort, fatally trapped inside the Chakravyuha (like I and a million others read in Amar Chitra Kathas of our childhood). When Sima Ghosh heralded his death with a long drawn out Abhimanyu, I was jolted back from Kurukshetra to find Sima on the stage and her percussionists and accompanists seated on a dias.

There was a brief interval, during which we were requested not to step outside because there were others who had not got tickets outside who were a bit upset.

Teejan Bai presented Karan - Arjun Samvad and right from her entry to the tragic end of Karnadani, she was arresting. Dressed in a red sari, black choli, silver amulets, armbands, anklets, her jet black hair in a long plait belied her age (she claimed she was aged). But given her tumultous life, 50 plus would be like a very long life time. As she unravelled the tragic tale of Karna-dani fighting his last battle against Arjun and his charioteer Sri Krishna, we held our collective breath. As she finished, the applause was not as thunderous as should have been given the packed audience. But that I realised was more because we were stunned.

The organisers asked the 'vishist atithi' Aparna Sen (who had come to see the performance) to come up on stage and present a bouquet to Teejan Bai. Some one from the audience called out that she has gone. 'Chole geche'. The organiser then requested Purna Das Baul to do the honours. Which he did. This was the only discordant note in the entire evening. No disrespect meant to Ms. Sen, but one legendary folk singer to another, Purna Das Baul should have been the first and obvious choice.

Teejan Bai waited patiently, through it all. But then poray bhebay dekhlam all this disorganised ness is the hallmark of all things Indian and not take into account. The audience appreciated the performance who in turn appreciated the audience's enjoyment, and all other irritants, were swept away.

A sporting chance

All the brouhaha about the CGW Delhi 2010. The paw prints on the bed, the leaky roofs, the Rs. 6000 toilet rolls. Would it ever get finished on time? Will it meet "international" standards? Will the international athletes approve? Will we as a nation, be able to rise to the ocassion?

Well the answers to all of the above was a resounding yes.

However, it struck me as terribly terribly sad. I was not angry or upset at the rest of the world questioning India's ability to organise such an event. Every question just made me sadder.

Look at all our Indian athletes and sportspersons. Does anyone in India ever think of them? Has the government shown an iota of concern for them? Why should Indian athletes have to wait for CWG for world class stadias and facilities?

We should have been disqualified at the very outset. We are one of the most unsporting nations in the world. Except cricket. No, I am not talking about the sportsmen or athletes. Look at the pitiable state of affairs in regional or even national sports. Look at the outlays, the facilities, the total apathy. Ours sportspersons are handicapped even before they can begin.

And despite it all, they performed and how; making us proud all the while when we were humiliating them by raising a hue and cry for facilities for international athletes. I apologise to all of you - you are the real sports, all of you.

Seeing the medal haul, there I was thinking that perhaps things will look up for the non cricket sports and sports persons in India.

However, just days after the closing ceremony, we find a buzz about the boxing arena in the Talkatora stadium being removed to make way for the AICC meet. The boxers for the Asian Games can well box else where. Afterall, they are not really used to such "international" facilities are they? And these were not really for them, were they?

An inequitable world

Back this morning from bhubaneswar where we visited several schools for the deaf.

The above photo is a classroom for very young deaf children. It also doubles as their dormitory. Those boxes (of those who can afford) and the bundles (of those who can't) contain each students belongings.

If you look very carefully, there are actually two classes in full swing here. Students seat facing opposite ends. The fact that all of them are deaf, helps. There is not much noise. Infact very little.

Again, another classroom cum dormitory.

All of the photos are of two deaf schools in Bhubaneswar. The 2nd and 3rd photo is one of the oldest schools in Orissa and perhaps in the country. 187 students cramped in to tiny classroom cum dorms. Teachers and staff struggling against all odds. Little or no government aid and delayed if at all. Hapless parents relieved to dump their deaf children in the school and come only reluctantly twice a year before the school holidays to take the children home.

These are the lucky few. Others have to make do with local schools where according to Sarva Siksha Abhiyan, all children (including disabled) are to receive free education. No matter that there are no trained teachers (or atlteast properly trained and coming regularly) at these schools. Did I say these children were lucky. Yes, well only upto Class X or XII. After that what? No jobs. Outdated, outmoded training programmes and no placement anywhere private or government (despite 3% reservation in government jobs).

And Bhubaneswar is only an example. It is more or less similar a scenario everywhere. India is shining, apparently. I'd like to know where?

Holi, Happily!

Bengal celebrated holi on Sunday, a day before rest of India. Holi for me, meant colours - creeping up on friends and family, pichkiri, abir & other hard to remove colours, resorting to buckets of water when stocks ran out, post holi bath with the painful scrubbing off, the most resistant bits - a triumphant souvenir to be proudly shown off the day after!

Once a manic fan of "dol khela"...this year, I welcomed holi as a day spent at home. (In February, I have spent a total of 24 days touring and was not only weary, but dis-oriented as well).

The lazing in bed as the cool morning breeze wafted in...
The strangely empty noiseless kolkata roads...
The lazy cawing of the crow...
The obligatory mangher jhol and bhat for lunch ...
and in the afternoon air redolent with the almost sweet, heavy lazy fragrance of the mango blossoms ... the best of all - a magnificent post mangsher jhol siesta!

Happy Holi, belatedly!

Time Travel - BP to AD: Bhimbetka

The maddening tour continues. Back from Bhopal last night and going to Bhubaneswar tonight. Which means this month, I spend 4 entire days at home. Imagine! On our first day in Bhopal, a sunday, we were able to wrap up things early and visit Bhimbetka.

One hour drive from Bhopal, a right turn and then a narrow, surprisingly well maintained road snaked its way up leaving everyone and everything behind and suddenly...we zoomed back to...well pre-history.

Was it the gigantic odd shaped prehistoric crags (dated BP - "before present"), the strange red, white and blue striations on the rock surface - believed to be under water before the north and south gondowana land collided to give rise to the world structure as we know nos throwing up many mountains ranges, including these rocky crags part of the Vindhyas.

And the cave paintings. Our guide dated these to be from 12,000 years ago - those in white; the ones in red being more recent merely 2000-3000 years ago and ofcourse somewhere in between the legend of the lot later Pandavas, bhim in particular - bhim baithika.

As the guide led us from one rock shelter to another pointing out the paintings - white, red, pale yellow and green....we were lost, transported far far away. Suddenly, the tour had ended and we were right in the front whence we had begun.

And only half an hour had passed and yet we had travelled 12,000 years. And back.

There is so much on Bhimbetka on the net. Archaeological Survey of India & Unesco World heritage site among others. But these pictures don't half capture the magic.

"See madam, the colours are all original, surviving all these years. And yet the C/5 marking that the ASI had inscribed to denote the rock shelter no. 5 has to be renewed ever so often".

Civilisation then, need not mean progress?

PS - Again, a digicam with a chip capable of storing only 3-4 snaps (argh! Dont ask ... long boring story).

Puri Fog

Hasn't got the same zing as London Fog. But it was as deadly (I am sure).

I was looking forward to Puri and the warm climes . And it was. Not hot but comfortably warm. Day 1 Puri, Day 2 Berhampore boarding train to Kolkata on the same day. Work at Puri went well. Left sharp at 5.30 for Berhampore. And straight into a thick fog. The four hour drive between Puri and Ganjam took 6. Often the white stripe of the divider was the only clue forward. Fog in Puri? (Maybe).

Given my punishing schedule, I was looking forward to a delayed arrival in Kolkata due to fog. I sleep rather well in trains. Rang ma to tell her so and expect me around 7 am-ish. Boarded the Chennai Howrah Mail and post dinner was fast asleep. And within minutes or so it seems, there was the chap in charge of beddings waking us up, shouting Howrah, Howrah at the top of his voice. I looked around. No one budged. Some simply turned sideways and snuggled deeper into the berth!

What a bore. We arrive bang on time - at 4am. No fog? Haven't the fogiest idea.

Time unravels all - Sanchi, Vidisha & Udaigiri

I had half a day off in Bhopal and debated - Sanchi or Bhimbetka? Sanchi won. Bhimbetka is for another trip, MP being a project state, I have to visit Bhopal frequently. And so Surendra, the driver from MP tourism and I went to Sanchi-Vidisha-Udaigiri.

First stop Sanchi. Chilly but not freezing. Green and beautiful. I made it. Afterall! The great Stupa, the four gateways. Ashoka the Great. 3rd century BC. Devi, Anuradha, Mahendra; Sungas; Here was an Ashoka Pillar with bits of the original smooth chunar sandstone still intact still carrying the famous edict of Ashoka warning against schism in the Buddhist community. (I can't ofcourse read it). The shaft of the pillar intact. The middle broken into two lying under a covered dias and the four lion heads in the archeological musuem, next door. Thanks to a blogger - I forget who - since I had read up so many before the trip - said not to miss the archeological survey of India Museum. Beautifully and painstakingly restored - a photographic record of the restoration is in the museum, Sanchi is a pleasant visit. And ofcourse the curious serenity I find around Buddhist places of worship or temples is here as well.

Outside in the parking were bored drivers, guides jostling each other to grab a foreign tourist party, vendors - wondering no doubt, what could be of so much interest that one thinks nothing of spending huge amounts to travel to Sanchi from great distances, on taxis, on guidebooks, on cameras, on guides and yet haggle about parking fees (I did), shoo away beggars.

Bija Mandal jayengi? Surendra sounded incredibly bored. Aapko pata hai naa, I ask? Haan, Vidisha main, he says. So, onto Vidisha which was once a super prosperous town, mentioned in Kalidasa's Meghdoot. Home town of Devi, Ashoka the great's wife. Really? Impossibly narrow, dirty crowded little town, could be anywhere in India. Garbage demarcating lanes, cross roads. Cows, pigs, dogs. And the seemingly random use of colours - green door here, yellow window there, a woman in a bright pink sari - colours foreigners would find eye catching and dutifully photograph. We went round and round while the roads became narrower and crowded. Finally, even my enthusiasm palled. Chalo. Surendra's relief was short lived. To Heliodorus' pillar, I said.

The pillar, standing sentinel from so long ago, now, in the middle of absolutely no where. No one around. A stray dog and me (embarrassingly touristy in jeans, windcheater, camera, mineral water bottle now containing local tap water filled at my hotel in Bhopal and guide book). The pillar stands in a fenced area with trees. There is a board of the archeological society of India. Surendra must have wondered at my choice of place. And might he be right? A pillar. Except that there is a thrill to think what it might have been around 110 BCE when a Greek ambassador of the Indo-Greek king Antialcidas to the court of the Sunga king Bhagabhadra had it erected. According to some records, he had converted to hinduism (?) since it was dedicated to Vishnu. Having seen the pillars which took about 2-3 minutes, there was well, nothing much to do. And yet, having come here all the way, I could hardly make a hasty exit, could I? So I loitered around for another 5 minutes or so, frequently consulting the MP Tourism brochure before leaving for the last stop (while Surendra kept in turns looking at the pillar and at me, in puzzled amazement).

Udaigiri. Ancient rock cut temples on a dark hill from the Gupta period. The lone caretaker was quite happy to see me, the lone tourist and showed me around. No signs / tablets or whatever they are called - detailing history and information would have been helpful. The climb was painful. The descent excruciating. Thankgod for Surendra. He helped me down, step by painful and vertigo inducing step. Did he wonder what the hell was I doing there? He must have.

There were the obligatory "Sonu loves Pinky" graffitti in hard to reach places. God. Why do people deface these places so? And how do they reach those places and carve out these messages?Panting, gasping (me) and relieved Surendra left Udaigiri for our return back to Bhopal. Just a while back, in Sanchi, what a thrill it was to see slabs inscribed in pali / parakrit? Or was it just plain graffitti? Should I then be so upset with "Sonu love Pinky" modern variety. Who knows? A couple of millenia later, will a future archeological society be constructing guard rails and guided tours on "Sonu Loves Pinky"?! Maybe?!

As I made my way back to Bhopal, I think I got my answer as to who won. Not Sanchi, nor Bhimbetka. But Time - that mighty leveller. Man might make short term gains like in Sanchi but sooner or later, will have to bow done to time!

I found neat info on Sanchi here.

PS - The cam I took from my colleague was out of memory and I couldn't figure out how to erase all the old pictures. I could take only 4. Can you imagine my angst at deciding which 4 to take? And anyhow, am still waiting for my colleague to mail me those pix. In the meanwile, some neat Sanchi pix at Aaravind GJ's.

To have eyes and not to see...

SK, a visually impaired colleague recently had to go to Delhi for a workshop organised by the National Trust and would be returning alone. I had left instructions at both Delhi and Kolkata Airport for assistance to complete all the formalities. He sailed through Delhi Airport. When the flight landed at Kolkata, the Airlines ground staff met him with a wheelchair and insisted that he sit in it.

“Main admi hoon ya saaman”? SK said. “Kya Sir, bathiye…hum aapko aaram say le jayenge”, they said. He protested vehemently saying he was perfectly capable of walking. The staff very good humouredly ignored all his protests and wheeled him to the terminal and through all the procedures and outside to where his brother was waiting.

A funny story? Maybe to us, the so called “non-disabled.” Not, to SK and million others who face similar situations daily. Buses don’t stop for them, an occasional airlines have offloaded them, people don’t have the patience to stop and listen to them, don’t see them, don’t want to see them, pity them and dismiss them with at best, a “poor thing”. Them being Persons with Disabilities (PWDs). So many such discriminatory incidents from the highly offensive and insensitive to the downright ridiculous.

The ground staff just took it for granted that being disabled, he wasn’t capable. Of anything, at all. He felt very humiliated at being forcefully made to feel “incapable”.

For the vast majority of the non disabled, who normally don’t face PWDs very often, don’t know what to do or how to behave when they meet one. Either they leave it at “Poor thing” or lend a “helping hand” – one which is more disabling than enabling.

It’s Ok if one feels awkward with some one’s disability, if faced with it for the first time. What is not OK is the disregard or unawareness of the fact that a PWD is a person first – who can do some things and can’t do others, just like all of us. SK manages our NGO’s Braille printing unit along with working with visually impaired children in the villages of South 24 Parganas. He is perfectly capable of walking and negotiating his way through the crowded streets of Kolkata, using public transport and goes on frequent out station trips. He can speak, walk, talk, feel, hear and has emotions like all of us. And like all of us, he has a list of cannots. He also can't see.

While it is true that the ground staff meant no disrespect, and out of ignorance, equated disability with a wheelchair, which was of course taking things to ridiculous heights, this behaviour is indicative of the general apathy regarding PWDs and their dignity, their rights who are aftarall like us, citizens of an Independent Democratic Nation.

A Roof with a View: July 22 Solar Eclipse

The longest solar eclipse of this century – more than 6 minutes. Once in a life time not be missed event. Next one will occur on June 13, 2132.

I looked up the path, duration, timings et al of the July 22nd eclipse. Tried (half heartedly) to look up science clubs, astronomy clubs and planetarium’s in Kolkata. And while the count down built up worldwide, with suitable frenzy, my plans fizzled out.

Aggotta, plan B: Rooftop.

Ma and I went upstairs at 5.30am and although the skies were cloudy…it was very nicely striated – clouds grey and ash, blue sky in between and a bright sun too dazzling to behold. And then from nowhere a wisp of cloud looking very much like a grey chiffon duppata blew in and obliterated the sunlight and there it was…the solar eclipse. And then the cloud moved away and we couldn’t see anything and had to wait for the next wisp of cloud. And so on went this hide and seek. Partial or not…it was beautiful.

In between, we checked out neighbouring roof tops. Not a soul in sight. Were is everyone? Ma kept asking. Sleeping or catching the eclipse from Surat to China and beyond on TV. Every channel had an expert – from ISRO, astrologers and what not. But the thrill was seeing it first hand.

Look, people are blowing conch shell…to ward off evil. Ma, please. That’s a bus honking.

We went downstairs at 7am and then watched the telecast on TV from different places. Photos of the eclipse by the Taj was rather poetically beautiful. Didn’t make it to any of the places which would see total eclipse – Surat, Vadodara, Bhopal, Varanasi, Patna, Gaya, Dinajpur, Siliguri, Tawang or Targana in Bihar which was supposed to be the BEST place to view the event. [The clouds played spoil sport at Targana and I believe they couldn’t see anything at all. Poor Bihar CM who was himself present, mike, dais et al]. Didn’t even make it to the Birla planetarium.

However, our rooftop more than made up for it. Just Ma, me, assorted crows (the ones ma feeds every evening) and our sunglasses. Ma looking rather hip in my antiquated Ray Bans.

Almost made up for my regret in missing another once in a lifetime event in 1986– Halley Comet.