Time Marches On...

Time Marches On...


It’s been on my mind for a while, but I was procrastinating writing them down!
This morning, a usual Sunday morning, I sat listening to one of my favourite- Tracy Lawrence. In all his numbers, what caught my attention was the track “Time marches on…”. And there it was!A smile across my face, like a flash right in front were the years that have gone by and memories sweet & sour. Time really had marched on! Memories of us all in school uniform, Khaki bags- the old military bags, kept in a long winding line. From far it would look like a long brown Python enjoying the morning sun!

The boys played and we girls stood aside making small talks – topics? Well, difficult to recollect. We would wait for the school bus. The rush & the push began at the sight of the chocolate cream coloured outline at a distance.
“ Bus aa rehee hai…”( The bus is arriving!) would be a shout from someone who first spotted the bus. At the door of the bus would be Gopalji one of the many assistants – we called him “Conductor ji”. He was famous as he would say “Bus Chho baaje aayegee.” ( Bus would arrive at 6 o clock). There used to be an unnecessary emphasis on the “Chho” !

As I moved backwards in time, I recollect having a routine and busy evening, after school. Unlike most children today, who spend time in front of the TV or young girls who hang around chatting, we were a rather active bunch! Back from school at 4 p.m., barely had the time to kick off our shoes, a quick wash & grab some food, we were out of our houses to play for a clear two hours. No one wanted to get home before the street lights came on! That meant it was 6pm & time to go home, Buddy.

The games we played? Oh! there were so many, the simple Hopskotch with its mutations – the 8, 6 or 9 blocks! All had different rules! Then the boys joined in to play, the games changed to a Football, a Hide & Seek, a “Gulli Danda” or a “Pitto” - a game with seven stones & a tennis ball. How it hurt when someone hit you with the ball! OOuch!

The streets, rather lanes, would resound with the screams of Victory! And sometimes the boys would get into fist fights! I used to be very scared of that! All of this formed the DNA of our childhood & am sure it was more or less the same for us all across India!

Often wondered, 'where are these friends, ones from the school, then college and some friends I made during my career journey?' There were so many names that would come back & forth and so many an incident that would bring a smile on my face. And when my brother & I sat down talking, we would exchange notes on some stories we could recollect. Each time wondered where were these people!

As if like a magic, technology answered our questions. The networking sites- an Orkut,a Ryze probably some of the first of its kind. Heard of it but did not log in. Then came Facebook. O My God! Here they were! All those lost friends of mine – year on year, almost all of them were right in here! The world suddenly became so small, distances reduced, I feel as if I can hear them talk! In some cases – it was just a call away!


And even as Time Marches , we remain connected! Thanks to technology once again - Its now a truly small world!

Those were the days my friend… ‘The Telephone’

It was one of our chatting sessions that we landed into discussion on how depended we have become on the mobile & the transformation that has happened over the years on the once existing simple telephone!

Today one gets to hear about so many forms  & the youngsters are in competition to own the latest gadgette.

I recollect, when we were children, if one had a phone at home, it was a matter of pride! The heavy, black, frog like instrument – the P&T phone! 

Like all other ‘precious things at home – the radio from Murphy, the Gramophone from HMV; this too found itself decorated by a carefully woven ‘crochet’ cover. Usually of the white thread, although some homes had fancy designs on it.

The features- the look of the phone – Black, heavy, huge for our small hands those days, small circles cut out which displayed the numbers.  Not to forget that one could also lock the dial!  My uncle, a doctor, would lock his phone to stop us playing pranks! It would require a lot of strength in our little fingers to turn the dial & get it to swing back in its place… It sure was fun!

The cords too were different, they were made from a cloth like material wrapped around the wire. In some, due to high wear & tear, one could see the cord with a crumple cover waiting to break free!

The telephone generated avenues for income too.  Apart from the so obvious revenue earned by the P&T,  cleaning the instrument to keep it black & shinny; a young lady would visit us once in 15 days… or was it once a month, I quite don’t recollect. She would clean & stuff a small piece of cotton with a nice smelling liquid into the receiver! What an experience it used to be, to use a freshly cleaned, aromatic telephone!

We also recollected the occasions of making a ‘trunk call’. One had to book a call through an operator if you wished to speak to folks in other cities! The operator with an emotionless voice would tell you that it was 2 to 3 minutes and would connect you through. I would always wonder that she has heard the entire conversation – oh no! and she would keep butting in stating ‘your time booked for the call is getting over. Do you wish to extend?’ What a hurry it used to be for the series of speakers who wished to connect. Am sure it used to be the same on the other end too! The loud ‘Hello’ could be heard almost down the lane – I used to wonder why we speak so loud, almost scream I should say! High pitch, hurried movement were symptoms of trunk calls! And all the calls were book after 10 pm. Lower rates – the benefit of speaking to all the members for a few minutes more! In some families the order of the speakers would be formed – 1^st the eldest, then the next and then the next and so on so forth. So by the time the young ones got to speak to their favourite aunt or uncle – the time was up! Crying at this unfair deal, the child would sob to sleep.

Ah!  not to forget the ‘PP’ concept which came in a few years later. You were one of the fortunate to have a phone at home & one could connect directly from home. Then came the progressive times when the operator was done away with & one could dial the number directly! Here the neighbour – the less fortunate ones;  gave your number to their relatives to connect when required. You had the responsibility to call them when a call came for them. The calls would come while the family was on the dinner table and lo behold the whole neighbours family were in your sitting room answering the call ! You would sit & wonder how long would these conversations last! For the neighbour, I always got a feeling that it was more like an outing – pre or post dinner, depending on what was their dinner time.

Almost at the same time was the mushrooming of the STD booth at every nook & corner of streets. These were also  another opportunity to earn. I recollect in Kolkata, many young boys and old ‘dadus’ ( Grandpa’s) sat at the STD booths.  What I also recollect were the long winding lines outside the booths. One would need a lot of patience to keep standing, waiting for your turn. And just in case the person inside took a long time, laughed & joked to the other side, the climatic conditions outside would see the movement from an amber to a red! The rumbling, mumbling would slowly start – “How long will he talk? , We are also waiting?’ etc. In Kolkata the lines would be in Bengali of course!

The progress in connectivity was so fast in the last decade, the advent of the Mobile phone completely changed the country! To add to this difference, we saw the same service providers bring in broadbands which also brought in the change in the landlines. Telephone installed in 24hrs ! This was an unbelievable in the past! Not to forget the cosmetics of the phone, Sleek, colourful, with CI flashing and so many other features getting plugged in!

Every individual, is connected! This is only one aspect of change that has swept the life of an average Indian. A mobile is no more a matter of luxury! This generation is born with an iPhone and the dexterity to use any gadget at their disposal! I learn from these kids the functioning of these devices – Would love to call it reverse coaching! 

Raindrops & Memories

Raindrops & memories

Month of May ! Summer has set in and Bangalore has never been so warm, even a few years back! The mornings are pleasant but as the day grows... Weather is changing! 

There is something nice about summers- the 4o'clock rains! So typical in a tropical country and of course in most equatorial parts! The dark rain clouds ; Cumulonimbus; cover the blue sky which looked so dry till about a few minutes ago...and the downpour begins!

Big drops of rain, the skies burst open with lightening, the roaring sound follows! The sound of thunder echos across the cloud laden skies and the lightening flash their ugly streaks cutting across the dark clouds.. Sometime they are red! one could weave a story to keep a child quiet!

Swaying tree tops, chattering sound on the tilled roofs and the skylights- the music goes on!

A little away from our apartment is a lake that has a stretch of swampy land.The white Pond Herons share their experiences sitting in the rains! We call this species 'Bok' in Bengali. Rabindranath Tagore has written a song that comes to my mind - ' Megher Kole Kole jai jey choley Boker paati...' ; against the dark clouds flies across a team of Herons! 

I am reminded of my childhood in Jamshedpur - Summer vacations, no school, only  a few pages of homework to be done - mom's rules... but parents usually didn't mind if we missed doing these till we hit the senior school! We had a big garden and lots of big fruit trees - Mangoes, 'Cheeku' and of course Guava trees... Below each tree would be line of circular brick forms to ensure water stays! Little Sparrows and Mynas would often take a bath in there during these summer afternoons! 

My brother & I would put on a central tree - a rudimentary bird feeder - A coconut shell with grains for them.... ! We would watch from our window the series of events and try and figure out if ' this bird was here yesterday... or was it the other ....'

Then as the 4 o'clock rains started... and the hailstones fell, we would be excited and run to get our colorful umbrellas- run to collect the hailstones form our big lawn ! Ah and also a few small green Mangoes that would come off the branch  as it swayed in the rains!

I also recollect playing , being the Frog!.. What fun it used to be... Each house had those big black umbrellas, they were the only ones that could stand such heavy rains! The fancy ones were still not in...  We had 3 big Umbrellas - the biggest was one that could contain my brother & I ... I used to call it 'Dadur Chata' - 'Grandpas Umbrella'. We would sit under it outside in the rains and pretend we were frogs! Big drops of rain, the big protective umbrella and our smiles!

So many simple things that brought us such joy - the sound of rains, the paper boats that we raced in the narrow garden drain around our house, the biting into the green mangoes and making my brother run into the house to get some salt...Life was so simple and our wants to few !

( Picture - Herons in the Rain near the lake in our locality)

As I watch the rains drenching & quenching the thirsty mother earth, memories flood in and I sit sipping a hot cup of tea....

Circus!

( Pictures from Gemini & Jumbo circus)

It was our usual Sunday connect to the US. My 6 yr old nephew Aayush, was narrating his experience at the Circus that he had been to over the weekend. His voice had the excitement of what he saw!
My brother then piped in,“ its not like what it used to be in our days, you know.”
My thoughts raced, as if on a F1 track, but the difference was, I just went backwards! Probably could have given Michael Schumacher a run for his money!
How exciting it would be, when Dad told us that if we were good for the week and did all our homework and listened to Ma, then he would take us all to the Circus. The Names that come to my mind are – Gemini Circus, Imperial Circus, Jumbo Circus, Empire Circus and I also recollect there was a Russian Circus that had come to perform at Jamshedpur. Each year there would be a different one!
It used to be a matter of prestige if we hadn’t seen the Circus and would be like an outcast in the friends circuit. “Tumneh abhi bhi Circus nahi dekha? Main ney to dekh liya!” (“You haven’t yet seen the circus ? I have already seen it), was the dialog from the changing group leaders- sometimes it used to be Bablu – now in the Army and sometimes my best friend Dollu.
The Circus was always very exciting! Sometime Dad would get the tickets in advance and sometime we would wait in the long line to the ticket counter. These were made of tin sheds- temporary structures, on the big “maidan” (grounds) – Golmuri Maidan. This was one of our bigger grounds in Jamshedpur.
As we got nearer to the Maidan, the smell of animals would make our nose twitch and a small smile would appear on our faces. “Bagher Gondho” (Smell of the Tiger!) would be my brother’s little voice, as we held each other’s hand in a tight clasp. My brother & I would exchange glances – eyes bright & slowly the smile spreading to the eyes!
Inside the tent, the chairs were made of tin, the folded ones and were arranged in circular fashion row by row, elevated by wooden plank to give a feel of an amphitheatre. We were really not bothered about all these fineries! Our eyes wide open, were focused on the round stage and we looked around for any sign of a Tiger, Lion or even a Parrot! All other children around us were equally excited and we could hear squeals and the hushes as the live band played to announce the start of the show. Oh yes, there were show timings! The tickets probably cost us Rs15 – Rs20 per person those days! I don’t quite recollect and honestly not that we were really bothered about the cost… Dad was there to take care of all that!
Everything was so colourful, the Joker came along with almost every trick that was shown. Yes, there used to be two of them, One, the tall chap and the other who was a Dwarf! They beat each other up once in a while; the shorter fellow would climb on to a stilt and tease the tall fellow. I recollect the crowd going into splits of laughter!
As the band played, the pretty girls came on to the stage riding bicycles or sometime with a Bear; to perform their tricks! I always wondered whether the animal could really understand her language! I would later try these with a stray dog I had picked up to keep as pet. His name was “Bumpy”. I had fought with my Gandmom to keep him at home! I remember we had a major negotiation – I could keep him provided he was kept in the Verandah outside the main house! Finally peace was declared!
Animal rights were not to strong those days and there would be lots of tricks using Elephants, Tigers and Lions. The Ring Master would be inside the Cage, snapping his whip and shouting at the Lion to jump into the ring of fire! You could hear the roar – a reluctant big cat would then jump through the burning ring!
The big Cats roared and I still recollect having a terrified feeling – “what if the Lion jumps out of the cage?” A question I had asked my Dad quietly during one such occasion. I remember him holding me close and saying – “Na, they have been given ‘Afeem’ ( a medicine- as understood by me then) and they won’t be able to come this side.” I remember sitting very close to him throughout the Tiger, Lion show! What a reassurance of safety we have with parents around! Amazing trust!
The Trapeze act would always be amazing! How people would swing across and the co-ordination! Girls and Boys both would be so accurate- of course the Joker would try his hand too and the obvious would be – his great fall and landing on the net stretched below!
We used to feel bad when the Trapeze started off – as it would be the last game of the show. The insatiable appetite to see and want more fun was, I guess, every child’s dream ! We were no different!
Weeks together would go discussing with friends and the numerous questions to my parents – all the how’s & why’s would need to be answered. My brother had a collection of cars and once we were back home; for some days he would make his cars do the tricks that the Motorcycle rider would do in the round big Ball of Net! Making the zooming noise, he would be at it and then the games would change till the memories came back after our next visit to the Circus- that of course would be only the next year!

The Liberation War -1971

(Picture taken from Google - News clips during the 1971 war)

As I read “Songs of Blood and Sword” written by Fatima Bhutto, I seem to travel back, along the dust filled memory lanes of my childhood. Memories that are not distinct; but still exist. Some sounds, some voices and some experiences that leave behind a funny feeling in the stomach – a feeling of emptiness!
1971, the year that India participated in the war, to get freedom for the people of then East Pakistan - today’s Bangladesh. We were at Jamshedpur – the Steel city. I was very young and my brother – a toddler. I recollect that the factory area was covered with air balloons or were they gas balloons; I’m not too sure. Reason ? the factory was an easy enemy target – especially during Air raids.
I remember Dad, we called him Baba, going to the Steel plant on his scooter, a Vespa. The headlights were half blackened! All vehicles met with the same fate. The air was tense and I had too many questions racing in my mind, creating images of all kinds.
What I distinctly remember was the Bengali radio channel –“Aakash Baani Kolkata” – played a particular song from Rabindranath Tagore’s collection – “ Aamar Sonar Bangla, Aami tomay bhalobashi…” ( O My golden Bengal, I love you), another ‘Bangladesh aamar Bangladesh’ ( My Bangladesh) and a voice that delivered fiery speeches. I don’t remember what he said but recollect being told that it was the voice of Sheikh Mujibur Rehman, the freedom fighter in East Pakistan. Not that these made any sense to me but there definitely had some meaning. I also recollect my Grandmother very seriously reading the Bengali newspaper “Jugantor” and sharing some serious conversations with my parents. I really can’t recollect the content of discussion, but the sounds told me that it must have been about the war!
Ah! What is most vivid is the sound of the screaming Sirens- an experience I don’t think I will ever forget! The moment we heard the screams, we were supposed to switch off all lights and all the houses in the locality, must the city too, would plunge into complete darkness, till the next screaming siren! It was a regular drill that we were put through almost every evening. I don’t recollect the timings, but even today the very thought brings a feeling of emptiness in my stomach. I hate darkness and would be very restless till the lights were switched on. And probably to divert my own attention, I would request my Ma to accompany me in the dark as I wanted to answer the Nature’s call! My Grandmom’s irritated voice would ring through the darkness – “Can’t you wait for a few more minutes?” “No”, would be the indignant reply, as I would stomp across the room towards my destination making the maximum amount of noise possible!
Along with all this is the memory of a Chakravorty family – Mr. Chakravorty worked in the Steel Plant. Baba was his senior colleague and Mr. Chakravorty loved & respected ‘Mukherjee da’- my Dad. Uncle along with his better half ; in the true sense; as she would am sure weigh many more ‘Kgs’ than Uncle; were regular visitors for us. Being mischievous as I was, almost always got my share of reprimand as I recollect telling Ma – “ Guess Kakima( aunty) eats up everything at home and poor Kaku ( Uncle) only smells the plate”. I remember Ma's stern look and voice forbidding me to say 'such' things. And their next visit would make me chuckle at the same though! Incorrigible child!
It was during these times of the ’71 war period that Chakravorty Kaku would remain very worried about his mother & sister who lived in East Pakistan. There were so many stories that we got to hear and I am sure they would reach him too. There were no Mobiles those days and the Telecom was not developed at all. Hence there was the radio and the newspapers that probably gave us all the news. They were the media for the “Aam Janta”
Many years later, I remember Baba sharing that those were tough times and tougher still were the number of questions that I would put forth for him to answer!
An incident that I will never forget is about meeting two unknown ladies in our own Verandah. As I came back from the playground, I recollect seeing these two ladies with the Chakravorty couple. My parents, my Grand mom and the Chakravortys were all seated as if in a round table conference with the “Cha-Nashta” ( Tea with snacks), discussing the ‘Escape’ that these two ladies had from the war-stricken zone. The Ladies were Kaku’s Mom and sister.
Later Ma and my Grand mom had shared how these brave ladies had been. Since they were ‘minorities’ the atrocities were unimaginable. They were able to carry in small bundles only some of the valuable they had and had to leave their home in the cover of darkness! These ladies swam the river Padma, which is Ganga on our side of the country and as it got into Bangladesh is know as Padma. How is this possible! They had reached a refugee camp on the other bank of the mighty river. It is from there that the Indian Army helped them to reach Kolkata safely. Chakravorty Kaku had then brought them to Jamshedpur!
I as write these lines, I don’t know if there were many such families who went through these tormenting times. I recollect hearing the sobs of the younger lady and one can surely say, that it must have been really scary for them both.
I salute the two ladies who had the will power to overcome the difficulties and to survive with honour! Guess these are examples of valour that we, the common people, have displayed time and again.

Questions keep bouncing back – have the situations changed since then? Are we more at peace or are we now living in a world where our eyes, hears have got so used to such incidents, that it does not really matter to us! Is peace going to be just a word in our dictionaries?