Brigade Chalo!

As a visitor, I'd seen this phrase 'Brigade Chalo' scrawled on every available space on every wall of the city. I soon learnt what it meant - that the 'Brigade' was the parade ground or the maidan. This maidan is a fabulous place - originally created by the Brits as a buffer zone to protect Fort William. The maidan is known as Calcutta's lungs! Now it has become a recreational area for the people of Calcutta. There are many sports clubs, mainly football clubs, but you can also see a lot of cricket being played by all age groups. During the kite season, this is a wonderful place to fly your kite. Colorful sheep graze, and you are likely to see a donkey or two as well, lazily moving around. The maidan is used for walks, and for lounging under the beautiful shady trees. Children can have pony rides, and there are also country-made merry-go-rounds for the little ones. The ubiquitous phuchka-wallahs have their baskets and trays all along the road, along with the ice-lolly stands and other utterly dubious but utterly delicious and totally charming street food stalls. (Oh how I love Cal!). Anyway, this maidan, or Brigade ground is also the place where wonderfully colorful political rallies are held. The photographs show people from the villages coming in and on buses. There is an assortment of transport that brings people of all age groups - from the old to little babies, all decked up in their finery for a day in the city. The buses are decked with flags and banners, and it is all very festive! It is another matter to ask what the government has done for these people. It is a rally day, and a day off from the regular everyday chores in the BIG city! Check out the man in the black tee on top of the bus in the second picture. I was fascinated to see that he is wearing a cross on a chain around his neck! I guess that is the spirit of Bengal, and which I hope will never die -

Serena Williams' comment

I thought Serena Williams' comment, which NDTV aired, was very, very true. She said that she did not like to play in India, because as she said: you live in this fabulous 5-star hotel, but as you drive out of the gates, you come face-to-face with so much poverty. This was something that had upset her sensibilities greatly. And, how true. We, in India, have gotten so used to these contrasts that sometimes it doesn't even register. Okay, so it is our reality. But, what we can do is to contribute our mite to reducing this terrible difference. We can start at home by being polite and decent with those who serve us. We can do something for their children. We can also associate ourselves with organizations that work with the destitute and deprived. What we have to guard against is the thought that --oh it's only us, and how much can we do when there is such a sea of poverty. Fact is, every little bit counts, every tiny little bit. One thing we simply HAVE to understand is that man's dignity is what he prizes the most (and by man i mean man, woman and child). No matter how downtrodden or how wretched poverty may have made him. What he needs more than anything else is that his human-ness be acknowledged, and that he be treated in a manner that does not destroy his dignity. Instead of using 'ayeii', 'tum' and 'tu', why can we not use 'aap', and 'bhaiya'? for in God's eyes we are all brothers. If we give of ourselves and of what we have, if we treat them well, the positive energies that are released will resonate in the world, and some good WILL come of it.

What 'Calcutta's spirit' means....

I've often wondered what people mean when they say 'spirit of Calcutta'. This picture made it all clear....

My husband took this picture while on his way to work in Howrah. The time -7.30 in the morning. Along the way, he passes numerous abandoned factories that stand as a mute testimony to Calcutta's once-industrial might. People say that there is still some activity going on in these forsaken places. Small scale industries have set up base in them...(nothing, not even a building is wasted in India - they all get recycled). The setting of this picture is the gateway of one such abandoned factory. The man is a barber, and you can see how carefully he has set up his work station. Using the factory boundary wall as his inner wall, he has carefully tied a tarpaulin to the parts of the wall that jut out. (Could this have been a sentry box once?). He has the tools of his trade in the blue box that you see in the corner. After taking out his instruments, he probably uses this box as his stool. There is a shell of a battery with a small pattiya on top, which he uses as a chair for his customers. On the wall behind him is probably a mirror large enough for the customer to see if his hair has been cut properly, or he has been given a clean shave, or his moustache and beard have been trimmed the way he wants. With a small stick broom, the barber is sweeping his salon, for to him it is a salon. (There is a small place in the wall where he keeps this broom). Obviously he is proud of it, or else why would he take the trouble to sweep the earth and keep it clean. He also obviously respects the fact that his customers need to be comfortable when he is attending to them, hence the tarpaulin, for it affords shade. Look at the barber himself. He is neatly groomed from his hair to his sandals. He wears a watch. This is a clear indication that he respects himself. To surmise: he probably has a family; wife, kids, maybe old parents and maybe even a sister or brother. He has huge commitments which he tries to fulfill in the best way he can. He is neither begging nor stealing. He is earning his livelihood in an honest and dignified way. This gentleman, no matter how difficult his job, ensures that there is food at home, that his family has clothes to wear, and that the children go to school. He is not letting the conditions in which he is carrying out his trade affect him negatively; he is not allowing himself to be depressed. He is carrying on with his life, and seeing to it that his family is also carrying on with their lives. No matter that housing is a problem, running water a luxury, the price of basic food far too high, and that everything but everything costs a lot of money. There are huge demands on energy, both physical, and mental - physical strength just to exist and mental strength to remain reasonably psychologically stable. Yet one sees to it that there is the occasional outing to the city, maybe catch a movie, maybe have some of the tasty street food available everywhere. However it is that he feels life should be led, he is helping his family live. He is not allowing any of the numerous hurdles, that living in the way he is forced to live, affect him. He and his family too have their place under the Indian sun. There is a task to be done, there is a family to care for, and there is a life to be lived. There are responsibilities to be shouldered, but there is also fun to be had. There are the numerous festivals that lighten the spirit and bring an element of fun. There is Indi-Pop and Bangla-Pop that add zest. There is the circus of politics to debate and opiniate about. There are the Shah Rukhs and Aamirs that make life really enjoyable and worth living, and give us the dialogues 'we shall overcome' to face life boldly, and assure us that at the end of it all 'aall izz welllllllll!' And, there you have it--the spirit of Calcutta.

Existential issues

There are three issues that have been on my mind, but I wanted to be a little removed from them, emotionally, before writing about them.

The first is about this couple that sits on the lane near our home. The lane ends in a cul-de-sac, so there is very little traffic here. They are ragpickers - they come to their spot at 4 in the morning, every morning. When I go out for my walk at 5.30, I see them sitting huddled over a small fire near the pile of discarded stuff and garbage, they had left here the day before. Sometimes, they sip tea from the little tea stall that some other displaced persons have set up at the end of the lane where it meets the main road. Often they chat in low tones with each other, but sometimes, they sit in companionable silence. There are only gentle, positive vibes that they emanate. No one touches their bags. Then, the wife settles her husband who is bent and old near the huge bundles, and taking an empty one, she sets off, while the husband sorts out the stuff in the other bags. Very methodically he sorts out the papers, bottles, and all the other stuff that people have discarded. Periodically, the lady comes back with her full bag, leaves it, and sets off with another one. This goes on till the afternoon. By which time the old gentleman has sorted out all the bags, and cleaned up the place so that there is not even a single scrap of paper around. Then, in the afternoon, when the lady brings in her last bag, they sit together and chat and sort... sometimes, she tells him things that make him laugh. One can make out that she is telling him all that she has seen and heard during the course of her roaming around looking for stuff to bring back. While we so carelessly chuck things away, these people, and there are many like them, collect and sort everything. Sometimes, a deaf and dumb lad, comes around and helps them. At these times, he too sits down with them in the afternoon, and while the lady talks away, the two men sit and look at her, one listens, and one feels...The young man has a wheelbarrow and when there is enough recycled stuff, he puts it into the wheelbarrow, and takes it away. Sometimes, there is so much stuff that he gets a cart and takes it all away. To say these people are destitute is to say less, but when you see the way they care for each other and the companionship that exists, there are only tears in your eyes....

The second one is about a group of women who were brought to the road where I walk, by a man who was giving instructions as he walked with them. He left them at a crossroads. The women were clearly new to what they had set out to do. I wondered what it was that they had to do. And then I saw it. There was a huge pile of pipes in one of the lanes leading off the road. Their job was to steal the pipes, break them into pieces and take them in the bags they carried. The women could hardly lift the pipes. But they toiled, pipe after pipe. As soon as it got light, they disappeared. They came again, and again, and the pile of pipes diminished slowly. One morning, an elderly walker saw this and kicked up a huge cry, calling them thieves and chased them away. Frightened out of their wits, the women fled. However, about 2 weeks later, they were back. It was obvious that they had been told to get the pipes or else....They stood huddled together and whispered, and from their tone of voice and body language, you could make out that they were scared, but were planning what to do. Anyway, off they went and a couple of pipes were broken and put into their bags. However, as luck would have it, as they were going away, the para dadas stopped them and asked them to empty their bags. Para dadas are the big dads of the area. Their word is the last word. They defend their territories, and are very helpful to those who live in their para. They kind of keep an eye out for their para people. Now, the women started crying and pleading with the dadas - to no avail. After much shouting on the part of the dadas and pleading on the part of the women, the women emptied their bags. They said if they were not allowed to take these to wherever it was they were supposed to sell them, their families, their little children would starve, They begged to be given a last chance and that they would never ever come to this area again - on and on it went....finally, I don't know what happened, but I do hope they were allowed to take those pipe bits....

The third is about the tea stall at the end of the lane. It is amazing the way this displaced couple has created this space for themselves. Their cycle cart has been set against the boundary wall of a housing complex, and the cycle has been propped up with bricks, so that the cart forms a table of sorts. The good lady keeps her cups and various cans on this. Next to this, they have erected a mud platform which has an inbuilt chulha, and a small area, where while one kettle is on the chulha, the other is kept close by so that the water in it remains warm. A part of the platform has a shelf propped up on it which has jars of the local biscuits. Another part of the platform is not as high as the chulha platform, but there is a seat made for the lady to sit or curl up on. The lady lights her chulha way around 5 in the morning. Opposite this 'stall', the couple has made 2 seating arrangements for people to relax. There is a long board fixed in the ground on which the daily communist newspaper is pasted. Above this is another board which features some political person or the other. So, while having tea, you can read the paper, and engage in the ongoing discussion. The whole place is kept spotlessly clean. That small bit of the road is their cafe...When I go for my walk at 5.30, the taxiwallahs and some security guards are having their first cuppa. In the cold of the winter mornings, someone would collect dry leaves and paper and bits of wood, and light a fire around which everyone would stand and discuss the chat in low tones. Companionable silence and talk over an early morning cup of tea! Sometimes, a lorry would stop by, or a car, and the drivers add to the group standing around. Everyone is welcome. There is a kind of peacefulness that pervades the area. Throughout the day people stop by for tea - small cup, half glass, full glass and special chai, with the inevitable bishkut! Around breakfast time, the good lady kneads dough. I'm not sure whether it is besan for sattu, or atta for rotis. But she makes these, and this forms the breakfast of many a worker. What is fascinating is that there are 2 small children who come sometimes in their clean, neatly-ironed school uniforms and bags for their morning milk and bishkut. They belong to the family, and are treated with great affection by all who are there. Today is Republic Day and you should see the little cafe. There are streamers of the National Flag decorating the crossroads, and there is even a decorated flagpole in front of the newspaper board. At 9 I could hear the crowd of taxiwallahs, security guards, ironing-wallahs, cleaners, redi-wallahs, Bihari, and Bengali, poor, poorer and poorest, and all those who society has marginalized, singing the National Anthem and shouting Jai Hind. The Government, mind you, has done nothing for these people, and yet, what is it that makes them sing Jana Gana Mana so proudly, and lustily? The emotional pull of the eternal motherland, I suppose...

What strikes me every day, is the caring that exists between these people, the dispossessed, the displaced and the destitute. They have their own code of conduct, and their own understanding of fair play and justice. Their only condition for living is that they are treated well by those who happen to be more fortunate. And why not? They too have a place under the sun, as much as anyone else.

This is our reality, much as we would like to not see it or recognize it...

Something to think about from Pico Iyer’s “The Open Road”…

In the world of today where strife and violence are the norm, people are searching for something and possibly someone they can pin their hopes and thoughts on; someone who will rescue them from the all-pervasive negativeness. There is so much movement and relocation in the world, mainly out of necessity, that people are searching for an identity; something to act as a compass and an anchor. Explosion of knowledge is not allowing for blind and accepting faith; questions are being asked about the relevance of ritualistic religion; hypocrisy is making people uncomfortable, and at the same time there is so much confusion about religion, spirituality.

Consider now the Dalai Lama’s teachings. How relevant and valid what the Dalai Lama says is. He stresses on spirituality and his definition of spirituality is the only thing that makes absolute sense. According to him:

Spirituality I take to be concerned with those qualities of the human spirit--such as love and compassion, patience, tolerance, forgiveness, contentment, a sense of responsibility, a sense of harmony, which bring happiness to both self and others.

Going on, the Dalai Lama in his wisdom tells people to create their world within themselves; build their temples within themselves; create their homes within themselves. This is the only place where their world, temples and homes will be indestructible, and from where no one can take it away. His Holiness teaches that freedom means freedom from fear; wealth means inner resources; power means self-sovereignty. If we can strive to achieve this, we should be able to live lives of great equanimity, and inner peace and calm strength.

Another powerful thought is that we need to believe in and lay emphasis on the inner teachings of all cultures and not on the outer trappings. Instead of teaching our children to preserve the outer forms of culture, we need to teach them to be compassionate, thoughtful, serving, tolerant, just, and kind people; we need to be aware of and responsible for our environment. We need to believe in and teach our children to believe in the theory and practice of cause and effect. Instead of looking at the superficialities of nations, we need to speak to the heart of all men, because all men are striving for the same human goals. The only principles we need to live by are selflessness, and compassion and the only thing we need to practice, is humanity. We are all different, and need to celebrate these differences of colour, and creed, but in the essence of spirituality, there is no difference. There we are all the same. We have the same shared human hopes and human aspirations. As Pico Iyer so succinctly puts it, ‘the nature of globalism, as of anything, is to be a reflection of human longing, in all its many forms.’ We go on and on about globalism and global villages etc not having stopped to think what the term really means. This is it – it is a human longing to be interconnected. We share our knowledge, and we share our thoughts; we can access the whole world from our keyboard and because of this, we are all in one way or another interdependent, and therefore responsible for the human-ness of each other.

(Pico Iyer’s style is so fluid and simple, it brings the Dalai Lama to us, ordinary beings, as never before).