33

Dear Readers,

                     Today is a day when we should feel ashamed of ourselves. 

             . 

32

Dear Readers,

                    The God of Cricket Shri Sachin R. Tendulkar decides to hang up his boots in the ODI format of the game. It is needless to recount his staggering figures and records. Our generation began associating itself with the game of cricket at a time when this hero had just stepped into the arena and was impressing everyone around the globe with his unprecedented style and skills. So, we guys have literally grown up watching the meastro spread his wings.  

                     The sudden realisation that we would not get to see the 10 number blue jersey on green fields from now on is a thought which would take a lot of time to sink in. For the crores of Indians who venerate him, this would certainly evoke a strong emotional reaction. Even during the brief spells when Sachin would absent himself from ODI matches due to injuries, rest-requirements or other reasons, the masses would grow very uneasy. I remember watching a match in Jodhpur when I was in school, where hundreds of people left the stadium after Sachin got out.  Didn't many of our family members, who knew not a thing about cricket, use to leave the living room after his dismissal? This is Sachin's charm....For many, there is no cricket if there is no Sachin!

                       

                      

                     

                      

                      

31

Dear Readers,

                     Another incident of crime against women and as if I care more! The rancorous emotional outrage  would die and die it will in a matter of some time. However, this incident is a little different from others. It reminds me of a beautiful night of my life. 

                          It was a chilly night in the month of December 2006. I was a young MA scholar of JNU and used to frolic around Delhi in the warm company of my new found love. That night we were returning from a theater show at NSD (National School of Drama) and by Joe! the play sent us into raptures. It was a Shakespearean parody performed by a wild Thespian group from the UK. 

                            On my way, I was reciting few lines and enacting scenes from the play( in those days I used to think highly of myself as an actor as I had just passed out from College) to make my lady giggle, smile and laugh. She laughed with her mouth clasped with her hands. By the time we reached Khan Market, she was shrieking out of thrill and begging me to stop. I didn't listen and in a careless youthful exuberance offered her an  Ice-cream. She held my arm and said, "You are fun!". 

                     We had missed the 615(Bus Route No.) and boarded a 621 instead. We got down at Munirka around 9: 45 pm because we knew we could fetch our 615 again. We did so and within minutes reached the cozy confines of our campus. 

                          It is bone-chilling to think that my evening must have been somewhat similar to the one spent by the couple which fell into the hands of those butchers, the only difference being that we got on to a greenish yellow bus and not a white one........

30

Dear Readers, 

                    Here comes winters in Rajasthan and here comes the session of the Rajasthan History Congress. Winters are the season when it is gorgeous to drive from any city to another town in this huge state. One can see colorful mustard fields along the roadside. The other day, on my way from Jodhpur to Bikaner, I saw similar views and could not help but roll down the side window panes in order to breathe the air carrying the smell of mustard seeds. 

                         This time the venue of the session is Rajasthan Uni, Jaipur, an institution which is so adorable to me and a city that I love. I am anticipating intellectually stimulating discussions over a cup of hot coffee amidst the promises and surprises of gulabi thand of the pink city. Equally refreshing would be the drive from Bikaner to Jaipur. I find it fascinating to observe changing topography from a sandy desert to a greener landscape Sikar onwards. 

                            Last year, the session was held at Government Collge, Ajmer. A city steeped in the changes of time and an institution that is reminiscent of a flourishing colonial system. Balmy rays of the Sun shooting at our faces from over the gigantic Aravalli peaks in the courtyard of GCA was such a warm and delightful experience that one could not but thank for the true 'heart of Rajputana' experience. With these fresh memories, I set out for Jaipur tomorrow and hope to experience some new, hidden and surreptitious marvels ....... 

29

Dear Readers,

                      Like many of you, I come across the "Glocal" word quite often these days. However, untill recently, I hardly had any idea of what it actually meant. Recently, two developments gave me a clearer picture of the meaning that this creatively coined word connotes. 

                       Jodhpur is on its way to becoming a developed city with fresh Himalyan water gushing into it through IGNP pipelines and due to an enhanced strategic leverage that it now enjoys after the discovery of huge oil reserves in Barmer. In spite of knowing all this, the real experience of the "Glocal" effect arose when I chanced upon two excellent venues. 

                      Firstly, I happened to visit National Law University, Jodhpur( I went there to pick up my mom who is a visiting Professor). While I was instructed to wait for her in the lobby, I casually strolled around and stopped next to the notice-board. I gaped at the board with my mouth wide open to learn that NLU was hosting an international conference on "Environmental Governance in The Context of Sustainable Development in India: The Case of Desert Ecosystem" sponsored by TERI, New Delhi( The Energy and Resource Institution) and KAS, New Delhi( the Konrad Adenauer Stiftung, a well-reputed global political foundation). The sessions were enthralling and highly captivating.

                        Secondly, I visited the JBF ( Jal Bhagirathi Foundation, a dynamic NGO working towards water management in the desert landscape). I was highly impressed to understand its functioning and all the immense work that it has carried out in partnership with UNDP, EU, Cooperazione Italiana etc ensuring safe drinking water to the inhabitants of remote villages of the Thar. There and then, I offered to serve this noble cause in the hope that I will get to travel, meet people and work for their amelioration in Marwar, our homeland......

       

28

Dear Readers, 

                     Long time back I read a piece in one of the newspapers( I beleieve The Indian Express) written by a lady reporter who very aptly remarked that leave alone projecting an 'incredible India' image we should focus on developing a 'clean India' image before world tourists. All that and the hopes of a neat and clean India seems to be a far cry and I would dislike using my blogspace for presenting a jargon filled discussion on urban infrastructure, town planning, waste management etc. etc. 

                       The point that I want to make is that of first things first, we should acknowledge the fact that we are dirty and unclean. There is filth and squalor everywhere around us, in our cities, towns, villages, bazaars, everywhere. Our railway stations, hospitals and public gardens stink. Most of the houses in residential colonies mill hard to keep the interiors hygienic but dump their wastes in the most unhygienic ways possible. We have become too accustomed of living in dirt and of turning a blind eye to muck surrounding us. Where on one hand we consider it impolite to use the four letter word in our slangs, we do nothing to save our nation from looking like a pot-hole. The same nation which boasts of breath taking beautiful landscapes and ecological diversity.

                        The remedy lies in holding  mirror to ourselves. One good and reassuring trend is offered by our beloved muse, the Bollywood. If you notice, the off age cinema of the new millennium at times sprouts into a few masterpieces which show us exactly what we are and how we look. Another commendable fact is that such art work is appreciated as is proved by the box office collections of movies like Slumdog Millionaire, Dabangg, Chandni Bar etc. Masses of India are more sensible than the bunch of goons( psephologists, policy makers, industrialists and bureaucrats)  who profess that they are nothing but vast multitudes of wisdom less coolies. The challenge is to spread awareness and inspire ourselves to wash away our sins....  

27

Dear Jodhpur,

                     It seems that my recent public announcements openly advertising my love for Delhi has pushed you towards taking a gratuitous stand against me bordering near callous indifference. I regret that and want to vehemently reassert that wherever I may go or dwell or take a fancy of a place in the offing, you will always be my first love, the place that shapes my very existence. 

                     Over the past week, I have been trying to revisit my lost ties with your essence in more than one way or the other.  I have frequented old spots where I used to loiter as an adolescent with my dear friends. I have eaten at a few places that have become synonymous with Marwari cuisine and delicacies. I indulged in the usual banter and gossip that form the character of a layman Jodhpuri. I have even gone to the extent of retracing the gradual solidification of my understanding of the city's geography by revisioning select angular views of the fort, the palace, the Clock Tower and other imposing city landmarks. 

                    Yet, you remain ever evasive. Please come back to me. With each passing day, I realise that I belong to you in every respect. The sheer delay in the unification of our souls is caused by your vindictive stance. Please put away your harsh retribution and welcome me with open arms. I am one of your children. Shower upon me my share of wine, women, friends, wonders, tales, memories, grace, fortune and secrets. Please. I am in need of another birth, my mother...... 

26

Dear Readers, 

                   Instinctively wrote in my Facebook status tonight, "Dear Delhi! Do you miss me as much as I do?". A couple of hours later when I read these lines again, I was able to appreciate the emotions that went behind this sudden outpour. 

                    Since a few days,  news channels are abuzz with warnings to Delhites to protect themselves from the deadly smog that lay enveloping the city in the wee hours of the morn. The video clips that are aired show different city points and streets wearing a coat of white fog. These visuals are what pinched me. 

                     I used to drive a motorbike when I was a student in Delhi. I used to keep it clean and shining and loved it more than my life. It had a name and I often used to talk to her. She took me to all these points and streets and often after a hard week, we both ran amock in Dilli on Sunday afternoons glistening in the wintery Sun. Such joy rides made me happy and I connected with every pavement of the city of Delhi. 

                     Just as Mir Taki Mir (the prodigal Urdu poet in Eighteenth century Delhi) laments the loss of Delhi due to the plight of finding bread and butter, I had to move out in search of safe future. Since that day, I grow sad( as I am now) to think that all those points, streets and pavements must have forgotten me. My unconditional love stands unrequited. The question is not whether or when will I return to that haunted city but it is that all our love is gone.... 

25

Dear Readers, 

                     Monday, October 29th, happened to be Sharad Purnima (a special date according to the Hindu Lunar calender when the moon is full). They say that it is the most gorgeous of all the full moon lit nights throughout the year. One can feel a nip in the air and the scent of the approaching winters. It is also believed that this night holds a special charm for worshipers of Lord Krishna as it was on this night that he wooed Radha by seducing her with his Raas (a special dance form of India). Thus, this night is a night of lovers. 

                      As it may be conspicuous in my thoughts, love has eluded me ever since I left the lush environs of muraqqa-e Dilli to migrate to this corner of the Thar in search of knowledge and wisdom. So, on this occasion as well, I chose to expect nothing. However, I could not let go of the spirit of celebration. I decided to go for a long drive in the desert countryside. By the time, I made this decision, it was 10:10 pm so I sought a company lest it would be a bit unsafe to drive along the border areas all alone. In short, I was shit scared!    

                      We drove down to Kodamdesar which lies north west of Bikaner. The landscape on either side of the road was very pretty. The road till this destination was all very well-known. The spirit of celebration gave way to that of adventure. We decided to flirt with the landscape by taking a right turn right before Kodamdesar which would lead us into the interiors. 

                       The drive past that turn was really intimidating. The time was well past midnight. There were no habitations on either side of the road for miles. Any mishap would have gone unanswered. When sensibility prevailed over exuberance, I took a U-turn but before speeding off back to the town, I drove the jeep off road over the silvery sand dunes. We reached the top of a 30 ft high dune and got out of the vehicle. The view was chilling to the bone. Not a man or signs of his dwelling in sight. Vision of dunes after dunes colored in shades of silver and black greeted us as we ourselves glowed in the moon light. The undulating dunes created an impression that we are ship-wrecked and lying in the middle of an expansive ocean. You can also  imagine  that it was a way to celebrate Halloween that very night!!... 

24

Dear Readers,

                    Happy Eid! I am always waiting for the Bakr Eid. It is one of my most sought after festivals and no marks for guessing why! the sumptuous food that it brings along with the celebrations whets my spiritual appetite. The kebabs, haleems, siris, payas, shorbas and the paka goshts all send me to a transcendental abode .

               Unfortunately, today was a dismal Eid for me. Had it been Delhi, Jaipur or Jodhpur, I would have certainly clinched an invitation from any of my friends to visit their dastarkhwans and gorge on the delicacies prepared with much care and diligence. In Bikaner, however, things were a bit challenging. Of the few acquaintances I have developed here during the course of my stay , only three were generous enough to accept  anything close to an invitation to feast.

               None the less, I set out on my task meticulously. I jotted down their numbers on a sheet of paper and cleared my throat before wishing them in a charming voice. The first call was attended by the contact's wife who informed me that my prospective host is out of town. The second number was switched off and I persistently kept on calling him for the next 18 minutes lest he would be awakened from his slumber. Actually, I wanted to avoid a hat-trick in quick succession. 

                The third call got connected and I could sense the tension in my mind soaring. A thin line hung between a satiate stomach and a craving belly. The time had come to know what Allah had ordained. This gentleman gave an exquisite excuse of being unable to invite me over. He informed that his entire family was in turn invited by some affluent relations staying at Fatehpur. 

                 Due to the near absence of any decent non-veg restaurant in this town, I was left with no hope. In the end, I had to contend with some dal-roti. How I wish there could be a third Eid called the Ghas-phus Eid so that vermicelli and lamb never got so over-rated!!

23

Dear Readers, 

                   I came across an interesting article in today's newspaper supplement of Dainik Bhaskar. It carried the story of Babur's( the first Mughal Emperor) death. What enticed me the most was an account of how the Mughals took possession of the world famous Koh-i-Noor diamond before it fell into the hands of Persian invader Nadir Shah in AD 1739.

                        It so happened that on the eve of Babur's invasion of India, Raja Vikramaditya was ruling over Gwalior. This Rajput ruler had amassed a lot of wealth which included the prized diamond. After the first battle of  Panipat, Mughal forces under Humayun succeeded in defeating Vikramaditya who was killed and his family, consisting of his wife, son and two daughters, was put under house arrest. 

                        Bais Beg, a Mughal commander, was in charge of security of the vanquished. Overpowered by lust, he made an advance at one of the beautiful princesses in response to which he was slain by her brother. A characteristically benevolent Humayun upheld this act of chivalry and ensured the further safety and honor of the Rajputs by meting out adequate punishment to the complicit others. Such a magnanimous gesture was acknowledged with full elegance by gifting the Mughal prince that jewel of jewels. The article did not mention the source of this information. 

                             Again, we see that throughout the medieval times, there were many cases when religion was relegated to the background in face of preserving honor and grace. 

22 Thaker Seedhayo!

Dear Readers,
             In remembrance of Thakur Shri Vijay Karan As Karan Arha, Thikana Panchetiya, R.H.J.S.(retd.), Former Legal Secretary to Legislative Assembly of Rajasthan.

                    To loose a dear one is one of the most bitter experiences this ruthless life teaches you. Such a grave personal loss is often indescribable. Leave alone a coherent expression of words, one cannot even put together his/her thoughts in a cogent form. I lost my revered and beloved grandfather yesterday. I could muster up the courage to write a few words about this loss only because of having already gone through the trauma of facing two untimely deaths in my family recently. 

                     I do not wish to write about how much I loved my grandfather. The currency of the word "love" is grossly undervalued in my economy. I would like to tell you how he inspired me to be a great man like all grandfathers do viz. a viz. their grandchildren. My grandfather was a Hakim in the service of the state of Marwar before Independence and later on became a judge in the state of Rajasthan. When in his finest mood, he would narrate stories from his legal career regarding curious cases. 

                     A fabian Socialist and a Gandhivadi, he was a man of principles and a practitioner of upright honesty like many of his generation who had suffered a few blows of British Raj lathis in their student days before witnessing the epic scene of the tiranga being unfurled from over the Red fort in Delhi. He was one of the few scholars from the state of Marwar to have obtained a prestigious legal education from Agra College. Back in my village, Panchetiya, I became his die-hard fan when he would ask dalits and non-Thakurs to have a seat on a chair and not sit on the floor as was the custom. He used to say, " The worst of  democracies is better than the best of monarchies".

                      I owe my passion for history to him. I had dedicated my M.Phil dissertation to him and he had tears rolling down his eyes when I showed it to him. He made me aware about the glorious past of my family  along with its pitfalls and tragedies. He introduced me to Dickens, Keats, Shelly, Tagore, Marx, Gandhi, Durso, Carl Popper, Russell, Hegel and then his greatest gift to me ever, two volumes of short stories by Chekhov. Data, as I call him, you will remain with me till my dying day as I will lie in my death bed remembering the vision of your nimble fingers turning another page of the text called life.....   . 

21

Dear Readers,

                    Such a pleasure it is to hang out with junior members of your alma mater. Today, I met two of mine and enjoyed an unwinding dinner with them atop the terrace restaurant at Harasar Havelli. We talked at length about the changes that have creeped into our adorable campuses that make life so different from what it used to be. Then we surveyed each other's travel extravagances and future itineraries only to feel more jealous of one another.

                     It was startling to learn from one of my friends that she had to face a lot of problems while using the archives at Jodhpur and Bikaner. She held the stark cultural differences between urbane Delhi and rustic small towns of western Rajasthan responsible for much of her mental harassment( This has got absolutely nothing to do with the name of the restaurant I mentioned above).  Well! All I could do was to give her a glimpse into the psyche of Rajasthani men.

                      On later deliberation,  I realised that in any culture where women are suppressed and subdued and where patriarchy is the driving principle of the society, men would naturally exhibit double standards regarding their orientaion towards the opposite sex. They would want women to 'cover' themselves up failing which they would have to become targets of uncouth aggression. The remedy lies in making the menfolk more aware by means of sensitising education. 

                      

20

Dear Readers, 

                   I just returned from Goa after a fulfilling holiday. The tranquil effect of watching the Sun go down across the horizon while swimming deep into the intimidating ocean is beyond expression. And on the way back while swimming ashore, one is beckoned with a gorgeous view of dark land lit up here and there with electricity against the background of a sky painted in various tinctures.  

                 I am utterly surprised by the question that what is it in there that makes each visit a fresh excursion and leaves an everlasting impression that is unique in its own capacity? I have been fortunate enough to visit Goa several times. After the exuberance of Dil Chahta Hai (a huge hit flick of Amir Khan) showed us the way to the fountain of youth for the first time in 2001, me and my friends have explored Goa time and again. The familiarity has grown so much that most of the roads and ways are embedded deep into the layers of my mind alike the format of a digital 3-D map. Quite often I dream about incidents happening to me at fixed spots enroute from , may be say Baga beach to Anjuna or from Panjim to Palolem beach!

                       Once again as always, I would make a recourse to history. Maybe the serendipity of Goa lies in its chequered past. If you look up for the history of Goa , you would realise what a patch of land it has been on the western coast of the Indian sub-continent since the last 10,000 years? Whereas the Vedic literature testifies to the spiritual effect of Govapuri, the life of Goan Buddist monk Purna( who happened to be a direct disciple of the Buddha) proves how promising this land has been to the seeker. Goa has been the home of a range of communities - Konkanis, Sumerians, Aryans, Dravidians, Greeks, Romans, Arabs, Portuguese etc whereas people from different regions around the world have visited it since millennia- Gujarat, Bengal, Kerala, Malaysia, Indonesia, Africa, China to name a few. My dear land of promise, untill we meet next, let me soak myself in your radiance....

  

                         

19

Dear Readers,

                     A few days ago, I got the opportunity to have a meaningful discussion with Dr Najaf Haider(distinguished medieval Historian at JNU, New Delhi) as he had invited me over to his place for a cup of tea. Incidentally, he was a little unwell with a mild cold and so changed his mind about consuming the beverage. This gave me an opportunity to demand a soothing lemonade prepared by Kavita(domestic help at  his home) and by Joe, it was amazing. Kavita had served a chilled lemonade to me exactly about 6 years ago when I was a first sem student at CHS and had visited Najaf's house to participate in a tutorial discussion over our term papers.slllrrrrpppp!!

                    Its great to brainstorm with the erudite Dr Najaf. In a brief while we touched upon most of the queries and doubts I had in my mind. Like the interactions of a master and an apprentice, we covered a huge  array of problems with the minimal use of time and words as the master made crisp comments and I followed the cues. 

                The most interesting point that we deliberated upon was the close association India had with Central Asia during the medieval times. It is interesting to learn from the Rajasthani sources that during the early modern period the society and economy of North-western India was more centrally aligned with regions west of Indus. For places like Jodhpur or Bikaner, Kabul and Multan were far more relevant than Dacca or Aurangabad! The purpose of mentioning this particular observation here is to reiterate the importance of diverting present scholarship towards exploring the historical connections between India and Central Asia. Such research becomes highly relevant bearing in mind the current efforts of our Foreign Policy Establishment to increase India's stakes in countries such as Afghanistan, Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan....  

                     

18

Dear Readers,

                     A couple of days ago, Happymon Jacob (Assistant Professor, SIS, JNU) wrote a profound article in The Hindu in reply to Justice Katju's insinuatory piece, "Professor, Teach Thyself", The Hindu, September 3rd 2012. Throughout the discourse, a seasoned and characteristic Jacob brought forward relevant points which dismantled Katju's misalleging views that exhibited the typical aristocratic disdain for higher education in India. Such mirthy denunciation of the entire higher education system of our nation by bureaucrats and Judges over a peg of scotch is an oft witnessed feature at clubs and drawing room politics. 

                      A few of the problems highlighted by Justice Katju are true and there can be no denial of the fact that our Universities and Colleges suffer from an acute quality crunch in the present scenario. However, to hold only the Professor's responsible for this state of affairs would be erroneous. A young and vibrant India which is full of hope should be shown the way to make ammends in the system rather than snub their exuberance by smashing all claims to change together with witch-hunting a select class of teachers or two.

                      Justice Katju finds it utterly unpalatable that faculty in Higher Education Institutes 'live in good houses' and enjoy a 'good salary'. Alike the esteemed opinion of many "bade sahibs" like him, the only way to enhance our education infrastructure would be by rendering Professors paupers with no spine who are left with no business but to frame eulogies for the bureaucracy and the judiciary. 

                       The answer lies in introducing strong willed reforms in the Education policy in terms of recruitment. The thousands of faculty positions lying vacant in Universities and Colleges should be filled with  talented teachers. Moreover, an intellectually stimulating ambience for genuine research should be fostered in the Universities located in the four major metropolitans of the nation as also in those which are located in tier-2 cities all across India.

17

Dear Readers, 

                    My joy seems to have no bounds as I pen down today's post. A phone call just a few seconds ago appraised me with the fact that Jodhpur is engulfed with a thick sheet of clouds and is witnessing incessant rain yet again. You all must be well-acquainted with the fact that this year, Rajasthan has received an above average monsoon. Though this may sound mundane, but it is a highly consequential piece of news for all of us who dwell in the sandy desert and experience good rains only a couple of times in a decade.

                   Most of my fellow Marwaris would confess to this innate tendency within us to inquire about the nature and volume of the wet spells from our friends and relatives during this time of the year. Such inquisitions become more intense and anxious in cases where they come from people residing away from their homes. I believe the underlying reason for this is our unfathomable love and association with our immediate ecology or environment. To ensure that such  curiosities are put paid to, I am posting a picture here.

               While driving down to Jodhpur on last weekend, I was thrilled and elated to see the entire countryside covered with a lush green carpet. The same expanse of land which, a fortnight ago, was a painting comprised of only black and yellow colors had now been transformed into a blossoming garden. Huge depressions caused by formation of sand dunes have now been injected with new life and resemble valleys filled with flowers and fluttering butterflies. Let us bask in the glory of this short spanned nikhlistan because like everything else, even this little pleasure would vanish before we, the people of Thar, could get engrossed in it......

16

Dear Readers,

                     These days I have become a regular listener to Nilesh Mishra on his mesmersing show, Yadon ka Idiot Box on Big FM. It happens so invariably that I return back from work while he is on air. The fact that he can sustain our interest in this age of superfast media with his simple and earthly stories suggests that he is gifted with a unique talent of holding his audience in rapt attention. 

                     His voice is very captivating and soothing at the same time. He knows how to sound potent without being loud whereas, at the same time, he can sound encouraging while at the lowest pitch of his voice. His diction flaunts charm and panache but does not lose the essence of a Hindi speaking son of the soil. No wonder he lends the very same tinge to the stories he narrates. 

                      Speaking of the stories,(while giving due credit to the authors) one can find a true reflection of our society and the nation in them. As a liked-to-be-called-cinema buff, I feel disgusted to watch repetitive stories set up in exotic foreign locales bearing not even a remote resemblance to an ordinary life here in India.  In this case, it is such a heart rendering experience to hear tales which seem to have been unfolded right before our own eyes. We can relate to these stories without much effort. Kudos to this  appeasing creativity spurting out of desi genius. It is a delight to be a citizen of the Yaad Shahar.... 

15

Dear Readers,

                     What an expressive writer Mr. Ziya Us Salam is? I used to eagerly await his Friday reviews while I was a student at Delhi. Actually, I could not afford to watch the wide range of movies which were released every Friday, so I used to blindly rely on his taste and choices. Seldom did he disappoint me. In fact, on most of the occassions, our perceptions concurred.  

                      No other film critic could have written a more befitting obituary to a side-line character artist like A.K. Hangal. He says that Hangal's "roles often demanded a careworn fragility and a gentle but unwavering righteousness, (he) was the very embodiment of senescent charm." Ziya adds further that Hangal's characters  always carried an air of "piety" and none could enact "virtuous poverty" better than him.

                    A masterpiece act that comes to my mind right now is a scene from the movie Alaap (I hope the name of the movie is correct), where Amitabh and Hangal are assaulted by a few goons on a street. They subject the senescent to a ignominious embarrassment. Few artists of our film industry can play the pathos and helplessness of a victim in such circumstances more lively than Mr. Hangal......

                      

14

Dear Readers,

                The national as well as the regional media is crying out loud against the purported mismanagement of the flood like situations prevailing in quite a few districts all around the state by the Government of Rajasthan. The point to be highlighted here is that the worst affected areas are the ones which happen to be cases of encroachments upon ecology and environment. This charge does not in any way absolve the state machinery of its lethargy and inactivity but none the less, compels us to rethink our urban planning. 

                All across our India, urban drainage is a major issue. Precarious rainfalls during the monsoons disables us to confront this problem head on. Consequently, when ever it rains in excess, we find our cities submerged under water. To make matters worse, in many cities and towns people are colonising areas earmarked as lakes, rivers, rivulets or other natural drainage systems. We are simply encroaching upon our ecology and blocking natural outflows of the life sustaining liquid. 

                Examples abound. During the devastating floods of Mumbai in 2008, researchers found out that the city had expanded at the cost of Mithi, Dahisa, Poisar, Oshiwara rivers thus contracting their river beds and volume of discharge. The same is the case in other towns and metropolis. If we speak of Jaipur, we learn that human settements have now come to occupy most of what once used to be the Aman-i Shah nala. Similarly, in the city of Jodhpur, large colonies have been carved out along the course of the Jojhari river.  

              Yesterday,while researching at the Rajasthan State Archives, Bikaner,  I came across a piece of information which proves to be highly opportune. The Imperial Gazetter of India Provincial Rajpuatana written in AD 1901 sheds some valuable light on the legend of Aman-i Shah nala. The British officer who reported on this matter calls the same channel, Aman-i Shah river. He adds that  this river originating near Amber is one of the finest source of fresh water for the city of Jaipur. Today, if you look at the same river bed, you would feel sorry for the state of affairs of our environment. Slums have cropped up all along the channel whereas cemented houses have been constructed at some points. Thus, we can say that we are not simply vulnerable to floods but are welcoming them. .....

13

Dear Readers, 

               The subject that I touched upon in my last post is a very dear one to my heart and so I wish to add some more to its content.  Many scholars like me would have come across events, anecdotes, love-stories, tales of sacrifices etc which exemplify the shared lives of Hindus and Muslims. I am always on the look out for such pieces of information and my delight knows no bounds when I lay my hands on one. Here, I would like to share two impressive incidents which in my opinion exhibit medieval chivalry and honor in its utmost pristine form.

               Both these stories are taken from the same period in history, ie. the last quarter of the seventeenth cetury. Aurangzeb Badshah was determined to impose a strong central control over Hindustan. In pursuit of the same policy he was all set to bring the entire territory of Marwar( kingdom of Jodhpur) under direct central administration after the death of Maharaja Jaswant Singh in Afghanistan . This precipitated Mughal-Rathore rivalry which dragged on for more than three decades. 

               A minor son of Jaswant Singh was taken into custody by the Mughals at Delhi so that he could not claim the gaddi of Marwar and thus become a rallying point for the cavaliers par excellence, the Rathores. Surprisingly, Aurangzeb put the little child in charge of Zebunnissa, his beloved daughter and a princess wielding enormous power in the royal harem. 

               A few years later when Aurangzeb was successful in quelling the rebellion of his son Shahzada  Akbar(who was aided by the Rathores), he asked for his grandchildren who were left behind in Marwar. Durgadas Rathore, the flag-bearer of Marwar's anti-imperialist struggle, gracefully conducted the children to Delhi. They comprised of a boy and a girl. When Aurangzeb entrusted an Ulama with the task of giving religious instructions to them, he was surprised to know that they had allready memorised the Quran by heart. The Rajputs back at Jodhpur had facilitated an orthodox Islamic education for the Mughal offspring.  

                       I leave it unto you to interpret the connotations of these two acts which seriously challenge our contemporary opinion, attitudes and behaviour.....

12

Dear Readers,
                       Happy Eid! May Allah shower upon us his grace and mercy!

                     It would be quite unnerving for any sensible citizen of this country to read about the recent developments in Assam and Bangalore. Personally, any news pertaining to majority-minority clashes leaves an indelible mark on my psyche and compels me to ponder over the causes and effects. Two good articles :  " Our heart must bleed for everyone..not just Muslims", The Hindu, August 19 by Adnan and "No Glass Ceiling but hard ground realities", The Hindu, August 18 by Ajaz Ashraf make a lot of sense.  Most of the times we see that riots take place in a frenzy of sensationalism and invariably, the vehicle of such mob incitement is misinformed history. 

                         Many of us are well informed about the deliberate distorted versions of the history of our nation popularised in the wake of communal and decisive politics. Any average scholar of history would be appalled to gauge the discrepancies between the normative and the empirical. Such distortions are connived not only to widen the gap between Hindus and Muslims but also between various castes and regional identities. Against such a vitiated background, the role and responsibilities of the intelligentsia and the media gets highlighted. The least that we can do is to make errands in order to set things right and correct the misgivings. 

                        Hindus and Muslims in South Asia have had a complicated relationship since the 1940's. The sensationalism of the 'two nation theory' and the matched aggrandisement of Hindutva forces completely obliterated traces of a common heritage and past. We forgot the essence of our history. We forgot how Hindu landlords and Muslim Talukdars fought shoulder to shoulder in the Revolt of 1857. We forgot how Hindu generals commanded victoriously the armies of the house of Timur. We forgot how Hindus and Muslims together opposed the division of Bengal. We forgot how Hindus and Muslims lived together. We must rectify our memories..... 

                        

11

Dear Readers, 

                     I am growing a little impatient as I lay crouched before my laptop waiting to hear the final results of the Student's Union elections held today in Universities and Colleges all across Rajasthan. The results for Bikaner and Jaipur are allready declared but counting is still going on in Udaipur and Jodhpur. One noticeable trend in this year's SU elections has been the upsurge of independent candidates. This shows that youth politics in our country is carving out a new path for itself.

                         Last year as well, the winner of the president's post in Rajasthan University, Jaipur was a girl from Jaisalmer who was ably guided by two stalwarts of student politics in Jaipur. This time over, similar mentoring has been observed at other places also. The students, on their behalf, have proven that they are willing to give their mandate to a third alternative provided it is stronger and more ingenious than the much repeated ABVP-NSUI options. I am in no way trying to portray an idealistic framework of students. Speaking specially of Rajasthan, we have observed time and again that these elections are determined by party maneuvers and have got hardly much to do with ideological confrontation. However, at the same time we cannot deny that student politics in this state is also accommodating new forces and  giving vent to rising pressures: be it the new caste configurations, rise of oil economy in Barmer district or for that matter an anti-establishment fervor. I strongly argue that "teesra morcha" can be a viable option in our state. 

                         Lastly, I want to mention a word of thanks to Mr. lyngdoh. I completely disagree with  the two basic tenets of the Lyngdoh Committee recommendations( on the basis of which election procedure was stalled in JNU). Yet, some of the regulations that it has suggested have actually facilitated smoother transaction of election business. Reporting form the field, I observed today that the regulatory spirit of the committee recommendations have given a slight leverage to the one who conduct these elections. The question remains that for how long will this panoramic hue hold good?

  

10

Dear Readers,

           Life feels great when you seize moments. Moments which make you feel that you are alive, unfettered and fluent. Such occasions are abundant but normally we miss out on a lot of them because of some inhibitions that lay crystallized within us. Today I had the privilege of enjoying a similar precious moment of my life.

        Throughout the previous content of this blog one may find an intense craving for moist encounters. Today, this thirst was satiated at length. It so happened that after finishing my work at the Uni and later at the archives, I had to meet an art curator. The weather seemed to promise a lot as the sky was filled with a thick cloud cover which was fairly wide-spread. As I ascended up a fly-over, I saw distant rains. Such views are a characteristic beauty of Bikaner in particular and the desert in general, when at a height, one can see distant clouds of shades ranging from ash black to silvery blue with strands of water vapor falling down. 

            So,  I called the art fellow to Prachina cafe located within the Junagarh fort. This spot is one of my favorite hang outs in the town. I ordered a cold coffee( one of the cafe's USP) and just as I sat down to take a sip, it struck. Huge round drops of water fell from the heaven above. The showers were puissant and grand complimenting the impressive facade of the palaces. The art fellow rushed into the open to get wet in the rain. He asked me to follow suit. I was a bit reluctant but soon obeyed him when he said, "Seize the moment". We were drenched thoroughly from head to toe and the water seeped into our skins. The icing on the cake was a bicycle ride in the fort compound. I am glad I let go of my reservations or else my lament would have persisted despite the kindness shown by Lord Indra......

9

Dear Readers,

              I love India. She is like a lady who knows how to conspicuously check you out from within a veil. No matter how well you know, one would never be able to understand her real character. She overawes her admirer with her beauty and intimidates the bravest to transform them into wimpy souls by unleashing her wild wrath. Sometimes, she showers her love upon you like water gushing out of a bursted dam provided you offer a total surrender after a long persistence. 

              You must be wondering what inspires me to confess my emotions tonight. Actually, I am thoroughly amazed by my lady love. Before, I have spent countless moments staring at the beauty of this diva like a true lover struck by the cupid for the first time but this time over, I was surprised to observe that each time one looks at her, he explores something new. I have at times had the luxury to stare blankly at some of the most breath taking views that this serendipitous sub-continent has to offer. However, today when I was  repetitively gazing  over a landscape that has come under my scanner time and again(the Aravallis), I was struck by its perennially ever changing face.

              At times lofty mountains seem to be growing bald by the scalding heat. In the peak summer months, when you drive through the passes of the Aravallis to reach to greener and cooler patches, you see the hill tops and our modest peaks exposing a silvery black underskin. It appears that skin is made up of discarded aluminium foils used for smoking Heroine ( as they do in the war hit zones of Afghanistan). At other times, those very mountains bloom with a dense green foliage after a healthy monsoon. On a winter evening, as the Sun dips beyond their backs, one can see them draping themselves up in cozy quilts of pink and orange shades.  

             How lucky would be the ones who inhabit the foot hills of the Himalayas?......

               

               

8

Dear Readers,

             India is making some headway at the London Olympics. We are on the verge of winning the maximum number of medals ever won at any Olympic gathering- 3. This tiny fact sums up our attitude towards sports. Needless to point out our characteristic shortcomings. A few days after the conclusion of this global event, one may find many "experts" criticising our flawed sports policies at one TV channel or the other.
                 As a Hockey enthusiast, I have been watching the games played by Indian men field hockey team in the group stage. We are performing miserably. It is a pity to watch the Indian team cave in to the sleek tactics of the other teams which are more rigorously trained and employ better management and coordination. Gone are the days when the famous Indian dribbling could leave our opponents dumb-struck. Power and speed are the order of the day. Sardara Singh has impressed us as a solid game-maker but the rest of the team could neither project individual genius nor a concerted team action.
                 In my opinion, the problem that plagues our nation when it comes to our dismal performance in sports is that we are very emotional about it as a people just as we are touchy about many other issues. We expect drama on the field. We expect losers to perform wonderous feats and champions to shed tears. There cannot be a creatively woven story like Chak De behind every sporting glory. It is precisely because of our extreme nervousness that a sport like cricket emotionally blackmails us. We justify our single obsession with this sport at the cost of other sports by telling ourselves that 'cricket is a game of nerves, you see'. We should change our thinking. Lets see sports as a tough game involving blood, sweat, injury, victory, comraderie, defeat, tears, exercise, strategy, etc. In short, we as audience, spectators and commentators should become more sporty and associate this word with anything but heart.

   

7

Dear Readers, 

                  No matter where one goes or what he does, one is always accompanied by certain core principles and a basic hue imparted to him by his education. When I was a student at JNU, I remember that a group of students used to run a make-shift evening school for the children of all those laborers who were engaged in the construction works on campus. It was a great feeling to witness those kids with the conviction that one day, these very children will probably grow up to receive higher education in some capacity or the other.I vividly remember attending one of the annual celebrations of this special school. It was a pure delight. The kids were beaming with energy and most of them had sparkling glints in their eyes. 

                       The University I teach at currently is a new one and there is some construction work going on   in our campus as well. The workers toil from morning till evening braving intense heat and deadly dry winds. Their children are fortunately kept at bay from child-labor and so they while away their time in the vicinity. Yesterday , just as I reached my academic block, I saw these little ones immersed in their own activities. I paused for a moment to observe them. 

                     They were playing joyously in the surroundings.  I was excited to watch them pluck jujube berry from its bushes. I recollected memories of tasting this fruit for the first time in my village as a child of same age. To gather the ones that were higher, they hurled stones at the plant. At that moment, I thought that the real success and achievement of any education system of any nation lays in the promise that children from the utmost disprivileged backgrounds are able to attend higher educational institutions. As far as India is concerned, this seems to be a far cry. None the less, we should fix our targets keeping this promise in our minds. One day we would see these very children walk the corridors of the Universities that their parents built. That day these fellows will actually be able to taste the berries hanging highest on the bush of civilisation. 

6

Dear Readers,

                     A few days ago, the newspapers read that scientists have proved Einstein's theory of Relative Temporality true. Two highly accurate atomic clocks measured times at different levels and arrived at the conclusion that time clicked faster at the higher level. A corollary to this theory is that we live surrounded by multiple time and space dimensions. So, I set out researching with my own experiments. It is so heart-touching some times to feel a strong sense of bonding with a town or city. One revises his acquaintances with streets, buildings, landmarks and most importantly a few people who appear to be as permanent a fixture of that town as its very essence. You identify a purpose and a rhythm in every motion of that locus. Moreover, a few of those rhythmic patterns appear to be repetitive or oft sighted. 

                      I was loitering around in the city of Jodhpur the whole day today. Quite unlike the routine, the weather was soothingly pleasant throughout so much so that at 2 30 pm me and my friends could afford a stroll in one of the city parks ( a rarest of the most rare things possible in a desert city). We laughed, giggled, discussed our futures pensively and lay down on the grass. We felt the saawan breeze on our faces and could audaciously stare at the sky which had no Sun. I felt as if we were back to our adolescence. By leisurely whiling away time with closest buddies I could manage to transcend my present and reach a stage of blissful innocence and relaxation where future worries held no mass.  

                    A little later, it so happened that I coincidentally went past a few spots which were frequented by me regularly as a child. Like it dawns upon many of us when we are caught in similar situations, I was surprised to gauge that those very places seemed to be have shrunk in size. The streets which looked like roads running till the horizon now look like 'just-another-street' and as accommodating far greater number of people. I was transfixed to find myself sprinting back and forth between different points on my time-scale. This is how I came to appreciate the notion of multiple temporality. Maybe, one day I will manage to live all my ages at one spot together in one go.....

5

Dear Readers,

                     A writer's task is to replicate his experiences in the minds of his readers. I wish that I am able to show you a picture which I witness everyday or rather every moment of my stay here.

                 It gives me a little pain to pen down my thoughts tonight because the choice of topic is such: Monsoons. As for any average Indian, it is one subject which evokes strong sentiments inside me from within. Every year, a heated and pent-up sub-continent eagerly awaits moisture laden clouds fom both the sides of its long coast. This year the dispersal of rains has been abysmally dismal. No other part of India can claim to be drier than the one where I am residing at. It is an area that receives scanty rainfall even in times of a bountiful monsoon all across India. So, you can very well imagine its condition when a drought strikes with full force. The month of Saawan is all but over and not even a drop of water has showered over this tract.

                With each passing day, the heat of the desert seems to be taking a toll on our lives and our dreams. The unseemly extension of the summer wrath has dashed all hopes of a joyous reward to the people for braving intense temperatures for well more than two months. Each day, when piercing beams of light from the scorching Sun break through every conceivable glaze, thousands of pairs of eyes rise up in defiance to scan the sky hoping to sight an army of black clouds dispatched in aid. Men and beasts, soil and shrub, all are haggardly awaiting 'the arrival'.

                  For me, the brunt of this famine is more severe than that for the general lot here. I was hell-bent on drenching my soul in incessant monsoonal showers this year at any cost. I devised a careful plan. In the month of June, I traveled to Kerala in order to greet the advancing outbursts. I was lucky to get caught in frightening downpurs, deafening thunderstorms and an air so moist that you could feel watery while breathing.  However, all this lasted for a few days only as I had to pack my bags and leave picture-perfect locales to return to my desert home. Now, here I am engulfed in a hot wont. My longing for rains is like the pangs for emotional anchorage suffered by a person who has come a long way past his first consummation. It is like the cravings of a woman tormented by unrequited love .

                      Nothing short of a wet explosion can satiate such thirsts.......

4 : A Beauteous Bastion

Dear Readers,

                     Travelling solo is great fun. One is at his own will to go wherever he pleases, change itineraries of the plan, extend or shorten the duration of stay at each destination etc. This summer, I had the rare privilege to be on one such trip down south. I was in Bangalore at IISc ( Indian Institute of Science) for an academic visit, from where I scooted off to Ooty. After covering a few destinations in Karnataka and Tamil Nadu, I was all set to hit southern Kerala just when I met an interesting lady who changed the course of my future travel.  

                   Her name was Shameena and she belonged to Wayanad, a district in Northern Kerala. Over the brief tete a tete that we had, she advised me that I should visit Wayanad instead of southern Kerala which is  although more famous but over-commercialised. I listened to her and thank my stars for having done so. I was fortunate to have laid my eyes on a few of the finest specimen of Indian Tourism.

                I chanced upon a beautiful fortress located at a town called Bekal lying on the northern tip of Kerala in the Kasaragod district. This fort was built in around AD 1650 by the Nayakas who were an ascendant force during the decline of the Vijaynagara Empire after the battle of Talikota in AD 1565. The Nayakas fortified this port town to control its lucerative trade and to use it as a base for their future expansion in Malabar region. The Nayaka hold was liquidated by Haider Ali following which the fort came under the rule of Mysore Sultans. Tipu used this fort successfully during his ambitious Malabar campaigns. After the fourth Anglo-Mysore war, the fort slipped into the hands of the British East India Company.

                   The place is so gorgeous. It is flanked by two white sand beaches on either sides. The southern beach is too long, may be around 4-5 kms. The contrast of lush green and blackened laterite stone is very picturesque. If you recollect, a famous song from the movie Bombay, "tu hi re" was shot here. The serendipity of this mysterious fort built on a cliff is highlighted by the low tourist turn-out. It is one of the few places in a hustly-bustly India which will leave you in your own quiet company with the sound of  waves crashing against unyielding rocks...

3

Dear readers,

                     The advantage of being in company of gifted scholars is that even routine discussions invariably impart stimulating knowledge and awareness to the participants. One such knowledgeable colleague of mine is Dr. Anil K. Changani, Associate Professor, Department of Environmental Science, MGS University, Bikaner. I always fish for excuses to slip away from the first floor of our academic block( that houses the Department of History) to visit the Environmental Science faculty stationed below. In order to err on the side of caution(lest somebody complains to my HOD), let me inform you that my area of research interest lies in the interface between ecology and history.

                    Over the discussion that ensued, Dac-saab told me that penetration of the Indira Gandhi Canal into the Thar desert has had a transforming impact on desert ecology. He mentioned that over the past one year, he noticed a few species of birds which are not native to the desert, yet are found now in the patches of green alongside the gigantic man-made river. The important among them are Indian Grey Hornbill, Fan-Tail Flycatcher and the Roufus Treepie. The wiki says that of these, the first is found to be distributed in the foothills of Himalayas and along the Indus and Gangetic river systems. Thus, it seems interesting to find these birds along the course of the canal. I myself had spotted a colorful Kingfisher on the banks of one of the distributaries  of the main channel while I was on an inspection to Gharsana.

                    Further, he mentioned another startling observation. On an inspection tour to Suratgarh in this March, he saw a lake located just outside the town which was playing host to a few very important species of migratory birds. These were the Spot-billed Pelicans and the Painted Storks, both of which are famous visitors at the Keoladeo Ghana National Park, Bharatpur. The Forest Department of the Government of Rajasthan should take note of these developments and adequate measures should be taken for their conservation.

                As for me, I am now left with no excuses to sulk the drudgery of life at Bikaner. This sleepy town also has an immense scope for bird-watching in its environs!

               

Anand Babu

Dear Readers,

                   Rajesh Khanna's demise has touched all of us and has brought back the memories of his golden years with a new fervor. All the TV news channels have been running special programs commemorating his life time achievements. The famous scene from the movie Anand in which Anand Sehgal breathes his last leaves our eyes moist despite the fact that it is shown repetitively. 

                  Whenever a big star of the tinsel town gets lost from our sight, his/her impressions form the past flash across our minds. As a first reaction, we feel the same sense of joy and being entertained which we usually experience whenever we watch those scenes or listen to those songs. However, on a second thought we realise that the protagonist of all this paraphernalia has departed from this world. We lament this loss in various capacities. We think that this entertainer is no more present amidst us. We speculate what his loss would mean to his loved ones. There is a strong emotional outburst in cases where we happen to be not just fans of that entertainer but associate a very important component of our persona with that actor. We come to acknowledge that that very part of us has died. This leaves us with a strong sense of pain and bereavement.

                   When Dev Anand sahab died I felt sad too. I got reminded of that masterpiece called Guide. The movie has many shots of Udaipur, my dream city. Besides that, the pathos of an impoverished young soul who has lost all that he had for the love of his life, to the extent that he is reluctant to re-enter his hometown, is brilliantly depicted in the opening song. "Musafir, jayega kahan". Tears rolled down my cheeks visualising my state of mind when I would be standing at the threshold of Jodhpur, my hometown, as a man who has failed in his life.

                  Rajesh Khanna's life makes me sad because of what I just mentioned above. We feel sad at the death of a famous actor when we relate to him in one way or the other. In this case, the loss aggravates my fears regarding a lonely death. Fears related to the cessation of a life which reached pinnacles of fame but then became ruthlessly lonesome buried under the burden of professional incapacity. Fears of losing all that I fancy and all that I might also achieve but eventually lose because of an innate self-obsession and self-conceit. May his soul rest in peace but today I cannot find that smiling lover inside me who can charm a damsel with a slight tilt of the neck.  

1

  Dear Readers,

          Another terribly hot day in Bikaner. While the entire sub-continent is gifted with bountiful monsoonal showers, the hot desert of north-western Rajasthan is boiling under an intense Sun. Today after winding up work at the University, I stopped at a point on my way back to home. It is located within the University campus but is located at the farther end and is in the middle of expansive sand dunes. I share a picture of this place. It was excruciatingly hot there. As I stooped down to strike a pose, I felt the same sensation which one feels when he overlooks a tandoor.

            In the evening, I had to visit Surnana House to mourn the loss of Thakur Laxman Singh Rathore, the earstwhile Thakur of Surnana and my very dear friend Praduman Singh Baroo's grandfather(nanosa). The most beautiful thing about Bikaner is that here you can feel the past around you. On this occasion, the picturesque Surnana House made me feel that I am back to the 1910's. The house is still preserved in its former glory. It is a huge mansion built in a proportionally huge compound located right behind the Junagarh fort. A spacious verandah greeted me as I walked my up to the baithak. To the left was the jenana dyodhi marked by its smaller entrance. 

           The baithak was a scene from the past except for the split AC. Its walls were covered in a soothing white-wash. White mattresses covered with white bed-sheets adorned the floor. All along the three sides of the room, white masanads made reclining comfortable. The arched bays with their typical view of the verandah outside sent one's imagination soaring up in the sky visualising long forgotten etiquette and gestures of medieval gentry. 

         Like I said earlier, Bikaner's speciality lies in the fact that it gives you an opportunity to look at it with a prism of the past. I wonder how long will it take for the waves of modernity to erase and reform every grain of this sandy stretch. Untill then, scores of people like me will relish the treat to their 'sense of history' within the forts, palaces, museums and bazars of this other-wordly town.

For the love of histoire

       Professor Shahid Amin's emphatic piece, "Hardly Unanimous, Mr. Thorat", The Hindu, July 13, 2012, hints at profound paradoxes in the society of our nation which in the times to come will pose a serious challenge. He beautifully points out the contradictions between "the celebration of the enabling learning curve of the 'average' schoolchild" and "the violence inflicted by precisely such homogenisations on the radically different life experiences of children from disadvantaged groups".

       To lighten the burden of jargon on my beloved readers, all I want to highlight is that the education system of our country and the ones who profess to ‘streamline’ it are intentionally sweeping things under the carpet. As a faculty in a State University located in the middle of the sand dunes far away from the posh intelligentsia salons of Delhi and Kolkata, I grapple with ‘field challenges’ almost on a routine basis. I consider myself fortunate to have experienced these things at close quarters.

        Most of my dear students in the M.A. previous class are Dalits. They are one of the most laborious lots I have come across (more so than the Mick Jagger fans whom I taught at my alma mater a year ago). They lack in nothing but confidence. I work hard daily to instill that fluency in them. They were unfortunate to have never attended regular schools. Moreover, some of them found the syllabus irrelevant and atrocious.

       The remedy lies in a simple fact: lets be honest. In a democratic set up like ours, the least we can do is to be genuinely unanimous by raking in all the diverse and\or divergent views and opinions. This cannot be more relevant than to the field of education. In a nation that has dissimilarities ensconced in its warp and weft, it would be unjust to impose a mainstream homogenised education upon vast multitudes of children and adolescents hailing from various cultural hues and more importantly, from discriminatory pasts. The system and our awareness needs to be educated in their history.