Diary from My Unknown Hometown… Rohtak – Part 3

When I think about Rohtak these days, I miss my childhood home more than anything else. My home, my room, the balcony, and the stray monkeys on the ledge in the balcony, I miss them all. The voices around my home, the smells of a thousand kinds, and the floating music from sources unknown and unaccounted for, still haunt me as I open my eyes to another morning, years later, in a different city, and a different home, and a different room.

I would like to believe that my home was somewhere on hills, with music of nature, cooing birds, and fragrance of flowers. I made it sound like that, no? Wishful thinking, but it does not mean in any way that I would have preferred my home to be at any other place than it was. Well, my home was at a place that was the business, political, religious, and (then) geographical center of the city. The place was and is still called ‘Bhiwani Stand’ which strikes as odd because Bhiwani is another neighboring town. So why was a place named after another city in Rohtak? It was pretty simple. Much before I was born, the starting point for buses to Bhiwani was this place, thus, the name, Bhiwani Stand. In the 21 years that I spent in that home, the name was changed to reflect one or the other politician’s greatness but the only name people remembered for use was Bhiwani Stand.

This place was not a colony, neither a lane, nor a market. For me it would always be a place that led that to other places and not a place in itself. A circular fountain at the head of a road divider gave it the shape of a lollypop. The most amazing thing about Bhiwani Stand was the roads on the two sides of the road divider. I know that sounds stupid. It’s a road divider because it has roads on the two sides that it can divide. Right? Yes, but what made it amazing were the roads that these two roads led to. These two roads led to eight other, most important roads and areas of the city. At one corner of the fountain was the Railway Road that led to the city railway station, the old-style havelis of the business communities, and numerous other important markets such as the one for Wood, furniture, and the one for grains. At the other corner of the fountain were three roads with a single opening point from the fountain. The first of these roads led to the oldest areas of Rohtak such as Babra Mohalla and Chameli market. The second of these roads led to Quilla Road. At that point of time, Quilla Road was the hub of utility as well as lifestyle shopping for Rohtak. It wasn’t a fashion rage if it wasn’t sold on Quilla Road. The third road, the Civil Road led to the rest of the city, the Medical College, schools, colleges, major residential colonies. All these three roads were really important for me. The first one had one of my best friends’ home and my favorite Chaat walla. The second one was the place to hang-out. The third was the road that led to the park and my school, and then later on my college.

On the left of the lollypop, exactly where the fountain ended and the divider began, was a turn to Shourie Market, Asia’s biggest cloth trading market. The place is named after Mr. H D Shourie, father of the famous writer and journalist, Arun Shourie. Mr. H D Shourie was Deputy Commissioner of Rohtak in the end of the 50s. Much of the development in the city is attributed to him. On the left again, exactly where the lollypop ended, was a turn to the Dairy Market. Dairies account for a huge business for Rohtak. The end of the lollypop led to a road which never had a name as far as I remember. I only knew that it led to the City Bus Stand, called as Bus Adda. The last road, on the right, at the end of the lollypop was a road that connected to the first road to my favorite Chaat walla’s shop. This was a shortcut from my home but there were a few stray bulls and cows on this road, making it scary for me to use it.

The head of the fountain had Lal Majid, a mosque, the end of the divider had Durga Bhawan Mandir, a Hindu temple. A little ahead on the road to City bus Stand was a Gurudwara, a Sikh temple. No, we were not an apt example of National Integration and Religious harmony. We were more of a demonstration of the noise that all religions blare from loudspeakers in the name of worship. We were a witness to the processions celebrating Hindu and Sikh festivals all year round. We were also a witness to the sparse Muslim population that stood out of the crowd, only on Friday afternoons.

Bhiwani Stand was a makeshift auditorium for all kinds of political functions, religious processions, and even weddings. My Dad and Granddad were fond of listening to some of the political leaders and I was fond of watching religious processions. We never really had to go anywhere except our own balcony and we would still be in the helm of things. We were the only motionless pieces of humanity in the midst of noises that journeyed across Bhiwani Stand to drive into one road or the other, to walk to destinations of savory sweets, destinations of shining sarees, destinations of religious faith, and destinations that I never could imagine.

If destinations defined people then I was the one without a definition. I was the unnoticed, silent witness, an observer and a listener, not by choice but by design. As I would stand in the balcony every evening, acutely aware that a stray monkey might jump over me, I would beat an old tin lid of a broken jar to play music to the blaring patriotic songs during Elections. I would tap my feet on floor every time a marriage procession passed. And I would lean on my elbows and clap for people dancing with religious processions. I was an observer who flowed with the flow of journeys that other people made. My journey lay in changing moods of the journeys often, not in reaching anywhere…

There are so many stories I can recount from the days of observations and pondering. I will be posting them in subsequent posts.

Quick Update to Being ‘The’ Ramalinga Raju Post

There were a few thoughts that were not continued in the previous post. Those thoughts came from the same guy who made me think about the whole issue from a different perspective. Thanks buddy. For a change I will agree with you today.

Here is reiterating some thoughts that he expressed but I missed out on in the previous post.
Raju…for all the scam he might have done was responsible for providing for the families of half a lac people for years who might have gone hungry if it were not for him. He was an entrepreneur, in every sense of the word. Would the people raising fingers at him today have provided for all these families? Did these families themselves think twice before they went to US, UK and enjoyed at satyam’s expense on onsite projects? How many in-laws would have proudly declared..my son is in satyam so we want a car and 2 lac rupees so we can invite your daughter into our homes. So …fuck all this holier than thou attitude. Raju was a businessman. He took a risk. He got caught and he’s willing to stand trial for it. Now the bigger question is - is the state intelligent enough to make those charges stick? Or as always, can Raju still prove the point that in india you can get away lightly by greasing palms. I bet on the latter. So, in a way, I respect Raju. I bet he is not a villain. He just did what made the most business sense to him but unfortunately, he didn’t take private coaching from the Ambanis that was his downfall.

Being 'The' Ramalinga Raju

The financial year is ending and I have been to lesser Doctors, bought lesser medicines than my company is willing to pay for. So, I take great pains to find a chemist who will create fake medical bills for me. He earns some extra money and I earn even more out of it.

I am not the only IT sector employee and medical bills are not the only way. Conveyance bills, food bills, per diem for business travels, we are used to find ways to grab the maximum we can grab out of the money that is meant to serve the business interests, that is paid to us as a business cost since we are representatives of the business, contributors to that business.

But I cannot look good till the time I point fingers at Ramalinga Raju for 7100 Crore of fraud and for putting the lives of 53000 employees at stake. I cannot look good till the time I praise people like Narayan Murthy and abuse Ramalinga Raju.

Don't worry, I am not attempting to make you feel guilty. Neither am I feeling guilty for all these years. This year I have already spent 500 bucks for the commission on Medical Bills. But today I feel strong enough to take that loss of 500 bucks and not claim that money. Especially in the case of my company that pays for our medical bills outside of the CTC. It's not a part of my CTC but a facility that's provided to all employees irrespective of the level or nature of job. A bigger reason for me to take that loss.

Thanks to an old buddy, I saw how we are all Ramalinga Rajus in our own small ways. His thoughts provoked me to think longer and write this blog today. But I hope he pays me 500 bucks to cover my financial loss:-)

I don't get it!

It was sometime in 2002 that I scribbled a poem spontaneously after coming back from office one day. It is what i call as my first serious effort at writing poetry…

A piece of sky in center of earth,
A dark shade of illumination,
A subtle passion burning loose on the edges,
A wave of sand cutting through the rocks,
A mind fusing life into matter,
A cold fire flowing in my veins,
And the soul of you in me, O God.

Today morning I woke up reciting this poem. I haven’t remembered this poem ever after writing it. A little while later, I was thinking how peaceful have I become after realizing my spiritual and personal growth direction and my vision of creating co-existence between what the world perceives as distinct, disparate extremes. Be it love and freedom, be it social morality and free will, or the simple everyday rules of good and bad, I seek a balance, a coexistence, a companionship of everything.

Now as I write this, I find truth in the old adage that the unconscious is a step ahead of the conscious mind, the heart knows even when I don’t know it as a worded reality…

Diary From My Unknown Hometown... Rohtak - Part 2

Rohtak city’s businesses usually run on the mercy of crops of the season from Rohtak villages. If villages make money, so does the city. The retail sector, from small shops to branded shops, from cloth markets to liquor shops, everyone depends on the sale they make with villagers. My earliest pictures of these village folks on shopping trips are of women wearing a small white shirt and the haryanvi multi-layered skirt weighing a few kilos. Their heads and faces were covered with a veil they made with their stole/dupatta and I could only see their eyes. Their jewelry was quite interesting. They would wear white or black silver bracelets and anklets, usually two to three inches thick. Black or cherry colored, pointed from front, flat in heels, unlaced jutis adorned their dark, hard skinned feet.

For all the modesty of the veil, these women would pee on the roadside, showing their bare asses to the rest of the world. That symbolizes other two extremes of Rohtak for me. The veil of shame with a bare ass is akin to a cultural value of respecting elders and respecting the joint family system but using an aggressive language full of abusive words that it’s hard to find if someone is expressing love or hatred for you. Well, I guess I maybe wrong. As the romantics would say, the heart would know. But the rules of romance don’t apply to this land.

It’s not just the language that’s aggressive. It’s the whole body language. You touch the feet of an elder but you don’t let your shoulders loose. They are tight and taut. I was around 8 years old and on one morning accompanied my Granddad on his morning walk. One of his patients, a native Jat lady, met us on the way home. She said, ‘Namaste Doctor Sahib.’ While doing that, she raised her arms above her head, and while joining her palms, she let all her aggression loose. I can still hear the harsh clap of her palms banging against each other. My Granddad, in his usual well-humored and gentle demeanor, with folded palms and a bowed down neck, said, ‘Don’t scare the kid, please.’ They both burst out laughing and I got a huge spine-shaking pat and hug from that lady. It was then that I realized that they were not going to fight. They accepted each other’s way of greeting with perfect ease while I got over the pain in my shoulder.

Years later, when I had finished my college, we shifted home and our new neighbors were not even city Jats. They had agricultural land in their village and they had delegated the farming to laborers. They could easily afford to enjoy all the city comforts. The lady of the house, Auntie, and Mom grew close and Bhabi and me followed her footsteps. It wasn’t uncommon for us to go there and eat whatever was being cooked. It wasn’t uncommon for her and her sons to joke with us about anything and everything. Apart from land, her husband had some business on which he kept traveling.

I remember when my nephew was born. When Bhabi was about to complete 9 months, Auntie’s son, just 20 years old, kept his car oiled and ready at all times, stayed at home at all times, waiting for the labor pains to begin, so that he could drive Bhabi to the Hospital! Auntie tried to send him to get Onions from the market and he replied, ‘Tere pyaaz ka kya karun? Ye machod dard mere peeche se ho gaya toh?’ (What if the mother fucking pain happens when I am out to buy onions?). Now I know, how that lady and my Granddad could share a joke while I hated her for shaking my bones!

Sequel to Blankety Blankets!

I finally received my 1st Jaipuri Rajai yesterday. It's made of soft cotton, has an orange base, with yellow flowers. like my brother had told me, it's young, bright, and peppy. And since yesterday, I have been carrying it everywhere I choose to sit in my home. On my writing pad, in the hall while meditating, and on my bed while reading.

Thanks Bhai. All said and done, with our fights and growing to be two very very different people, you give me a lot of stuff that I absolutely love and that includes my new sunglasses that you gave me for my birthday:-)

Diary From My Unknown Hometown… Rohtak - Part 1

Rohtak, the place where I was born, the place where I grew up, attained all my formal educational and professional degrees, and the place where my folks proudly live today is a cause of friendly, funny banter I get from colleagues, ex-colleagues, and friends. No, no, I enjoy their banter too much to complain. If they would stop it, I would hate myself for writing this here. But I came back from a visit to home two days back and I was thinking, how little, people who are close to me in my chosen home, Bangalore, know about this inconsequential town in Haryana.

So, here is a little enlightenment from wikipedia, ‘It is a big city but does not have malls and multiplexes’. Correction: It has one 4-screen multiplex now and another one is under construction. And I would not prefer having malls in my hometown. It would increase the rates of paani-puri and papdi chaat and deteriorate the taste and quality. The curd in papdi chaat there still is curd, not thin white colored water! The multiplexes have already increased the movie ticket rates from 50 bucks to 130!

Anyways, here are the links to info on Rohtak on wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rohtak

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rohtak_District

But these are links that will not tell you the most important thing about Rohtak. It is a city without any huge industrial resources, but a city of huge aspirations nonetheless. It does not have a burgeoning Automotive/IT/Services Industry such as Faridabad or Gurgaon. It does not have a Textile base like Hisar. It does not have an established rich and peaceful existence like Karnal, neither does it have an army base like Ambala. (For those who don’t know, these are the rest of Haryana districts).

If you talk of willingness to move out of comfort zones to achieve ambitions, Rohtak would run ahead of all the places I know about. Rohtak can boast of educational facilities of all kinds with in a diameter of 5-8 kms but no industry or population to absorb those skills or talent. It’s not surprising that almost everyone from my brother’s and my senior school batch is not in town anymore. You may still find the girls without professional education married within the city or in Delhi, which is nearest big city. But most of the guys who studied there in the last decade just moved on. The usual Indian mindset of finding a job in your own city just does not apply to the young Rohtakis. The village kids move to Rohtak, Rohtak kids move to Delhi and beyond.

It’s also a city of PYTs. Unlike Haryana and Punjab interiors, girls here are far more free to experiment with clothing. No one would believe it, but my college seniors did wear skirts that barely touched their knees:-) Many of them smoked, dated, moved on to bright places in their careers later. These are things that people do not expect of small town stereotypes. It would be unfair if I don’t share the flipside to this kind of group. In my college, a large section came from villages. These girls wore crisp salwar-kurtas while for us jeans, unwashed and torn, was the mantra. We didn’t really interact with them. But they made almost 50 percent of our college. Now when I go back, I feel either Bangalore is still primitive or Rohtak has grown by light years in the last three years. The jeans have grown tighter, the tops have grown shorter, sexier, and bolder.

The place I knew as a kid was a city of two extremes - Education and Agriculture. More on that and some more of my memories in my subsequent posts…