A school in Gola

 This beautiful mud house with the bright blue door is a village school. But where are the children? Not quite sure. It was locked at noon when I visited the hamlet in Gola Block of Ramgarh District on a tuesday.

Hope he children are learning. Barely legible scrawl on the walls spells out that this is a village school. The teacher's name is Geeta. This is followed by messages on organic farming! Go figure.

Nevertheless, as I walked into the near empty roads of the village that afternoon, the white and blue school looked very beautiful.

The Perfect Lunch

Perfect weather, beautiful place, striking people and then just the lunch waiting for us in quiet Rupkona village. The menu - rice, dal, sag, kundru's sabzi, tomato relish. Perfect.

 Luunch at Rupkona village, Rayagada district, Odisha

Just another tea stall

It was the usual roadside cha stall, tiny plastic cups, rickety bench, cheerful biddy complete with a woolen scarf, on this decidedly warm winter evening.

Just beyond Ajanta cinema, towards the Taratolla flyover, just half way my daily commute home from work, I change here. Wrapped as it was in bits and pieces of tarps, the entry being an illegal gap in the fence bordering that bit of the Diamond Harbour Road, I never once saw it before.

But never once in 4 years? Really? Both of us - me and the scarfed biddy were surprised.

The hills were alive...

...not with the sound of music. More like our wails, our prayers - silent and loud throughout our journey through the Khasi and Jaintia hills. Thank God the bus didn't go via the Garo hills, on our 17 hour road trip from Silchar to Guwahati. Only a day before we had slept comfortably on the night bus and woke up on reaching Silchar early in the morning.

We began our return at 7am from Silchar and made good progress till we reached Ladrymbai. And there we were for another 4 hours, inching through a narrow high road with steep drops on either side. That thin narrow road was now a 4 laner. The lane on the extreme left had coal filled trucks lined up for miles. And the other three were free for all with huge Volvo buses, vans, vannettes, cars of all shapes and sizes, bikes, cycles and what have you. Ever so often, our bus would pull to the extreme right, swerve off the road and onto a miniscule track on the edge (of the aforementioned steep drop downhill) and we'd go tossing in our seats, with bottles and various bags skittering from left to right inside the bus. And after a while another heave ho and we all tilt to the right. And it went on and on and on.

I am NOT making this up. Normally, giving the narrowness of the road and the height and the nonstop winding, even two large trucks or buses crossing each other is perilous. This was nothing short of a death wish.

But we survived. After a four hour delay, the 12 hour ride should have taken 18 hours, but the super man at the wheel sliced off one hour! We landed at Khanapara in Guwahati in 17 hours and headed straight to The Naga Kitchen and tucked into two Naga thalis to quell our quakes and shivers.

We had gone to Silchar for a field visit, to plan out some training for parents of deaf children. My colleague said, "Let's get the trainer by night bus and send her back by night bus". Absolutely. Nothing to see, nothing to fear. True.

All you adrenalin junkies - the bungee jumpers, the sky divers, the tight rope walkers - now try this. I dare you to.

Colours of Orissa

A beautiful, traditional mural in a village in Ganjam district of Orissa.

A tree grows...

...in the narrow strip of a garden on one side of our NGO. A lone mango tree which every mango season gives ... mangoes!

But it has not been that easy. Our man Friday Hemantada, the self professed mango expert, insists that the tree groaning under the weight of mangoes, are not ready for plucking . All the while, the lucious fruits distract us to madness (and greed).

We do try to sneak at them. However, the wasp's hive on the upper branches, scared us off successfully; Two intrepid staff (young boys both) climbed the tree and did pick a few…[while I panicked on terra firma, should they slip and end up with a fracture or worse, concussion].

Upset with our (mostly mine) constant nagging, he did pick them and kept them in a rather public place for ripening. And in came a bunch of visitors in several cars and their drivers had a merry time helping themselves.

To do away with all that, this year, hemantada quietly plucked away all the mangoes and stashed them away somewhere secret. And what with the endless touring (which has been merciless this few months) and then the rains and the fishes and the khichuri, we forgot about the mangoes.

And then this morning we saw Hemantada coming downstairs with a box...

Rainy day Magic

Rainy day. Somehow, for me, the term is synoymous with a near empty school. The students who braved the elements and turned up would be at the receiving end of a tongue lashing from teacher. But there would be a chapa excitement...a sort of infectitious holiday mood and after a while, a rainy day would be declared and school would close early.

And even now, rainy day ... when it just doesnt rain, but so much so that office is near empty, feels cosy and fun. I can't explain why. It just does. Skies still grey and over cast. Only 15 of us turned up (which is less than half). And no sooner had I mentioned Khichuri, everyone swung into action...

Drawing up a shopping list, buying the ingredients, chopping, peeling, grating, roasting ....

And while the khichuri was being cooked, we ate our lunches - the ones we brought from home!

And then we all sat down to what was undoubtedly one of the best lunches in a while ... khichuri and begun bhaja.

Its the magic of rainy day at work, at work!

Shopping list - "phordo"

And finally!

Rainy day

Its been raining non-stop since noon yesterday. I for once am not complaining. This is infinitely more comfortable than the humid sogginess. Minor discomforts like getting drenched on the way to work and back home are ok. I am even prepared to over look the narrow strip right in front of my office where the drain overflows lovingly onto the road and we have to walk through it (ugh)!

Buses were few today. I got up on one this morning where I was possibly the only passenger (bad for business). The others were helpers and conductors. After much hemming and hawing and deciphering of the owners phone numbers which was scribbled on to the board above the drivers seat, the driver rang the owner and told him that the water was thigh high on the road. It wasn’t! However his appeal did not work. The owner asked him to continue.

The minor discomfort of wading through the drain water (I and all my collagues simply have a good foot bath on reaching work), we settled down to another day. However, there was some excitement. There are many ponds in and around the area which overflow into the drains and there were koi carp swimming just behind our office. Two field staff had, well, a field day catching them with an umbrella.

The koi which swam up the pond and ended in the drain...

Koi is now Rs. 400 a kilo in the market. So great!

Another 24 hours of rains predicted.

And no, I am not taking the drain kois home.

Something new, in Bhopal

I did something entirely new this time, in Bhopal. Something entirely new since I started visiting Bhopal (way back in April 2009). That is a period of 802 days. Once a month visit makes it 30 visits or so in which the pattern never changed. Never wavered even. Airport / station / hotel / meetings / reports / visits ad nauseum (except two half days for a quick and incredibly guilt inducing trips to Sanchi and Bhimbetka).

So what was it? Can you imagine I spent it in company of friends?! And not the squeezing in of one more report, some more planning and yet more telephonic barking at my state teams (after office hours), or vegetating in my room (the faulty TV remote usually means I am stuck watching a crappy channel and too drained to manually change the channels).

Old friends first. My dad's colleague from so very long ago, who have known me since birth. here I was meeting them after a gap of two decades or so...and enjoying their pleasure in meeting me and recounting tales of yore!

New friends next - some one I met only 3 days ago in Kolkata at another friends place. The first thing she said to me was please tell me why are you coming to Bhopal? I mean, this is not the best time to sight see. On work. Oh! Well come visit us. And so I did.

And I was pleasantly surprised to find that it was, well, very pleasant and refreshing! Out out damn guilt.

And as if to share in my happiness, the weather too unwinded dutifully each evening after a hot draining day, by pouring....

Nicely Done, Nagpur

As soon I boarded the night train from Bhopal to Nagpur, I began itching all over. I thought it might be bed bugs (in a train??) and realised that I was having an allergy attack and I spent the 7 hours sitting on the edge of a lower berth in the dark ... thankful it was night and everyone was too busy sleeping instead of watching me in my plight.

Nagpur arrived at 4am and dark, the streets deserted. I got into an auto and asked the driver to take me to an all night pharmacy. Which he did promptly. The two attendants had to be woken up and bleary eyed gave me some medicines. As I paid, the auto driver told me, "I will take you to a government hostpital. The emergency will be open." Dont risk taking medication without asking a doctor. OK, I said. And he did. I wondered if I'd have to leave my suitcase and laptop behind in the auto...The driver solved the problem. He took my suitcase and laptop and shepparded me to a window; "yahan say 5 rupay ka ek slip lijiye". I did. Then he took me to another room where there was an attendant who took my slip and called a young lady who looked like she had just woken up. She gave me an anti-allergen shot and asked the driver if I was going somewhere close by. haan. Dus minute main hotel pahuncha doonga. Ok. And that was indeed that. In 10 minutes I was at the hotel and another 15, snug in my bed, all itches gone and all nicely drowsy by the shot. And did you know, the driver didnot even ask me for more fare for this detour. I very happily paid him more than double of what he had asked, knowing even then, it was a very small way to say thankyou.

Nagpur has been a transit point for the nearly 2 and a half years I have been to-ing and fro-ing Bhopal. All I see is the airport, the station, the cabbie, the auto driver and one hotel where I sometimes spend a night. I dont know anyone. And yet...these extremely brief encounters have been pleasant ones. And after that fateful night...I am overwhelmed. Nagpur & Nagpurians...Nicely Done.

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!

Colours of Assam

Colours: Bezera, Assam

Lo behold

Photo courtesy Nadeem Ahmed

Such a beautiful fruit. And not just visually. And the single tree outside our office window reminds us of those couple of months when the tree will be full of white jamrul, which Hemantada our office peon will pluck and distribute. I don’t think I exaggerate when I say I don’t think I have ever tasted such wonderfully sweet jamruls (aka Jamun). Even after the brief fruit season is over, the tree looms reminding us about the next season and harvest.

Hemanta apart from his sundry other activities, is also in charge of pruning the trees. But he forgets to, sometimes. The Jamrul tree has grown and grown till the branches reached the window just behind my work place.

So far so good. Till, an enormous bunch of caterpillars made the tree their home and crawled up onto the ledge and inside our room. Ugh. The window is now firmly shut. Hemantada has firmly hacked the tree down to its size, but we are still not taking any chances.

A senior consultant was sitting with me when I spied 10-12 of them crawling all around my desk and understandably let out a shriek. He very gallantly removed the bunch, but not before giving me an earful on right to life.

Right to life is alright. But somehow in this context, I am certain, might is definitely right.

All things bright and beautiful

This little poppet accompanied her mother to a workshop

for parents of the deaf in Betul district, Madhya Pradesh.

Women at work

"Look -- a lady traffic police", I said, quite amazed.

"Bhubaneswar is full of women traffic police", said my young colleague J (leaving "what - you have never seen one in big bad kolkata", unsaid).

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?

To live another day

I spend so much time on mini buses commuting to and fro from work that I have time to observe the close working relationship among bus drivers, conductors and helper. They have amazing coordination as they navigate through crowded Kolkata roads. And slowly over the days and months, I have learnt that there lies an extremely finetuned method to their reckless madness. Their intricate system of shouts, thumping and tapping the side of the bus signal a variety of directions - left, right, slow, stop, half stop (which means slow down for an unscheduled stop for a favoured commuter), speed up etc.

Often close to the terminus, the driver and conductor exchange seats. By this time, the bus is almost empty and so are the roads. The bus driver leaves and the conductor drives the last few stops upto the terminus (incidentally where I too get off). He shouts instructions to the conductor, "foot on break, steady, etc". I actually know one such conductor who has now graduated to a driver! He smiled at me (now a familiar face on that route) with so much pride, seated behind the wheels instead of collecting fares. I live and learn something new everyday!!

This morning on my way to work, the switch happened a bit earlier, around the Behala Blind School with peak office time rush on the road. The driver didnot leave the bus. He came and sat with the three other passengers. The conductor took up position on the foot board while the helper took the wheels. And then came possibly the scariest twenty minutes of my life.

The helper drove like a man possessed. As if he was on a mission impossible to avert world destruction. The driver shouted instructions while the conductor beat a manic tattoo of thumps and taps guiding the helper, in between shouting at the top of his lungs - Ay aauto, laxary (private long distance buses with odd names like Debkanya) at passing vehicles, suicidal pedestrians, dogs, thelas and trams. Our pathetic screams went unheard partly due to the general ruckus (or death rattle) of the tin bus at hypersonic speed, mostly because the driver and the conductor were totally focussed on the dodge-em-car training at 200km hour in peak traffic - essential requirement of a mini bus driver.

I seriously contemplated getting off (if my weakened knees would allow) and taking an auto. On second thoughts, after my auto tumble, walking would be better. But what if another driver in training crept up behind me. Tram? No way. At places, the mad man at the wheels drove up the tram track and down while the bus lurched ominously on three wheels....

"Ladeeeeeeeeeeees", yelled the conductor which jolted me out of my daytime nightmare and I lurched to the door and ran off at olympic speed.

Did I say I live and learn? If. We. Live. that is.

PS - Now the name debkanya (daughter of god ... for those who don't know bengali), doesn't sound all that odd.

Wedding season

N and I left nearly at 9 (that is pm) from work and took a cab for the long ride home. And ofcourse our conversation was on trying to find that elusive work life balance. Slowing down at Kalighat (it is on the road to my home and I haven't suddenly turned into a fervent devotee), we saw something amazing. Amazingly cute. A woman shepherding a young groom and bride. Complete in dhoti-topor and biyer lal benarasi and alpana and red cheli and biyer malar across the road as our cab waited at the signal. Kalighat wedding. Hmm. Made our long hours almost worth it.

In Flight demo

Another trip to Bhopal. Which means flying to Nagpur from Kolkata, a cab to Nagpur station, a train to Bhopal and an auto to my hotel in Bhopal. I can now do it blindfolded.

And I thought I had learnt all the tricks and shortcuts and had seen it all. Not quite, as I found out.

I got a seat right in front of the plane on the Kolkata Nagpur flight. As I took my seat, I found the plane abuzz with mosquitoes. More were entering through the open door as other passengers were still boarding. A lady swatted angrily and complained to the airhostess about them. “It happens only in Kolkata,” said the air hostess, catching my eyes and smiling sympathetically. I looked stonily ahead my hackles raised (cant help this bongness). But only momentarily. Indeed there was a thick cloud of mosquitoes. Maybe not a cloud, but definitely a swarm which, heh heh avoided me sensing my solidarity and attacked others.

As the flight took off, and the plane went upwards (to stratospheric heights), the mosquitoes settled and then vanished. But not before a final show. I have never paid much attention to the security drill / demo by the cabin crew (atleast not as much as men do…but that I think has more to do with air hostesses in short skirts) but this time, I did. And what a demo it was. The airhostess slapped (her arms), swatted (her face and neck), stamped her feet all the while demonstrating the usual seat belts, oxygen masks, exits demo!! It was funny. But full points to the lovely lady for not missing a beat even with all the stamping, stomping, slapping and swatting!

The bright idea

On our arrival at Nagpur airport, we took a cab to the staion for our train to Bhopal. Trains have been running late due to fog, our MP NGO partners had informed us. And so they would be taking a bus instead.

We had more than an hour to spare before the train arrived. I looked up the reservation charts to find I was still WL1 which in effect meant, I had to no ticket and no right to board the train. My boss however had a confirmed berth. And she said we'd share. Half a berth is better than no berth for an overnight journey. Yes. Only we were travelling by 3rd A/C and my boss had a confirmed upper birth. That close to the ceiling and both of us sharing? We'll ask some one on a lower berth to change places, she said.

The train arrived only an hour and half late. I boarded the train on a general ticket. Our coupe was all men and one mother with an infant. We asked if one good soul would change place with us. No one refused outright. Its just that they didnot look at us or reply distinctly. Mumbled and looked away. The TT said I could pay the difference and share the upper berth but he couldnt give me another berth simply because there was not a single empty one on the entire train. Ogotta, upper berth.

I stood around glaring at everyone, gnashing my teeth while my super efficient, super energetic boss swung into action. She went up first and spread the beddings. Next she asked me to hand her the laptop, LCD, our biggish handbags, assorted shawls and sweaters etc and as I watched astonished, she made space and sort of curved into a comma and asked to climb up. Which I did. The alternative was to stand in the dark coach for 8 hours.

We were just striking enormously acrobatic poses on the narrow berth one feet from the ceiling when the chappie on the lower berth (the other LB was occupied by the mother and baby) got up and said, "Aap kaisey aisey jayenge?" At this the others too stirred. "Aap please niche aa jaiye aur main UB le loonga".

The others arose and helped us bring down all our stuff one by one. Their collective guilt now had a reprieve thanks to this guy. We repeated the entire process on the LB and it did take us some amount of arranging and re-arranging before we could settle down and eventually fall asleep.

We reached Bhopal relatively refreshed thanks to the chap and I know I should have been more grateful. He was fast asleep as we left and I hadn't thanked him when I had a chance to. Instead I had said, "if only you had the bright idea of changing places 15 minutes earlier"...