Cannot say what is happening these days to me. I take up a job, a work, or a vocation and I get past it in few days. Either I loose track or interest or purposelessness or I just undermine the importance of work I took up.
Let me try to link and restart thinking about my days, my years in the Capital of Pepsu state of Maharaja Patiala now Amrendra Singh ex-chief Minister of Punjab. Amrendra Singh was a close buddy in Patiala when Maharani Mohinder Kaur was fighting her election to become MP from Patiala after bifurcation of congress, into Indira Congress and Old Congress (of Syndicate fame), as a candidate of Old Congress. BJS/RSS was supporting her and hence I was a worker of Maharani with her son Amrendra Singh as our group leader. He used to come to my room in Bungalow 6-C Model Town in the morning. My colleague Gupataji (son of DESU Delhi) used to be my companion our Mukhya Shikshak and a great leader from Delhi's BJS - that time it was Bharatiya Jan Sangh (and was not a natural ally of Shiromani Akali Dal - Sikhs' party as it is now). We could develop a good bond while working for 3 months period of canvassing in Tripudi, Factory Area, Model Town area of Patiala. But after leaving Patiala for Chandigarh the relationship remained there. In Chandigarh it was Akali Leader and Agriculture Minister in Morarji Desai government Surjit Singnj Narnala and his son ( entire family) who became my buddy however I focussed on RSS and not much for BJP, yes became a student leader through ABVP. My mentor Shri Jitendra Virji Gupta wh became Cheif Justice of Punjab and Haryana Court, was a rigid personality and my close association with Dipil Chandji (father of Jitendra Vir ji Gupta) left more impression than any teaching from the school of learning. When I read the books written on his life I feel I am living with him in Chandigarh and learning - discussing with him in my hostel Room. My Hostel Room in Hostel number one ( Mehr Chand Mahajan Hall) was a confluence of most political activities in Panjab University' daily life. It was a pilgrimage place for many professors, students, politicians and poets -thinkers. Kiran Thakur Singh (ow Kiran Kher of film industry) my very dear and close friend Meenakshi Thakur ( a TV and film personality now) were many diverse lives I was living with people simultaneously. Music Society, Gandhi Bhawan, Chemical Engineering Dept, Hindi dept, Ancient India Culture History and Archeology dept, Journalism Dept Law Dept Pharmacy dept apart from Mathematics, Chemistry, Physics Honours Schools, The flames from MBA and M Com depts... life was =the way I have had imagined it. A student leader, organizer, poet, writer, music lover, speaker, debator and loved liked by University staff, professors, students ... never missed anything. Sushma Sharma (now Sushma Swaraj) was a student of law, Pavan Bansal (Parliament Affairs Minister) Anand Sharma of Kurukshetra Univ. Now Comm Miniaster, Swami Agnivesh, Kiran, Prabhu Chawla, Ram Lalji, Mayor Chandigarh, Satpal Jain (ex MP Chandigarh) and many more were the close friends then. But now.-nothingness! Man Mohan Singh used to teach at Economis dept, economist Bhalla saheb Ram Parsad (now congress MP) Manish Tiwari was a kid of ou friend Dr V N Tiwari of Pro and Head Punjabi Dept - a symbol of Hindu-sikh unity as him wife was a sikh- VN Tiwari was killed by Khalistan terrorists in his home in Panjab University. My hostel rooms were historical monuments. When Naxalbari movement started in early 70s the first murder of a police officers son was done by naxal in chandigarhin the room I got - unknowingly - next year the room in 4th block I got was regular enquiry place for police as some one who was earlier occupant was wanted in serious cases. And the enquiry officer used to visit for khana poorti - who became good friends - from Ten Sector chowky.
Meenakshi entered my life - and replace the place of Vijay Sharma slowly onver years. Vijay used to come Chandigarh and we used to have long evenings in Rose Garden, Pinjore - Mughal Garden ( close to Chandigarh near Kalka in Himachal) The days were full ... but then Vijay decided to marry in Shimla with a Ledrle Medicine co’s Manager and took transfer in State Bank of Patiala Mall Ruad Branch Shimla. We remained close even after marriage, her husband who had his home in Chandigarh and Shimla both became a regular visitor to my hostel. January 26th 1975 was the last day I met Vijay Sharma in Shimala and after that we decided to ...Meenkashi was a student of Painting and a trained painter. We traveled to Jaipur together for a week. Nice colorful person sensitive singer - our meeting place was a cultural festival where I was participating in Debate and Essay competition and Meenakshi Thakur in Painting exhibition. Meenakshi took the relationship too seriously and she Meenakshi Thakur ... when I see her acting in movies and serials .. I can only cry - long for her company. A cultured loving person - the perfect life-companion I have had imagined - is Meenakshi Thakur. Sushma Sharma was closer to Swaraj and Swaraj was our occassional colleague but he could nver be a friend - an unlikable person - we could only abuse him when he was made Governer of Meghalaya Nagaland ... and so he claims an expert of North East now. Ram LAl ji one day took a stick and beat Swaraj the idiot (now husband of Leader of Opposition of India).
Friday, August 12, 2011
Thursday, January 6, 2011
My journey 5
I am still sitting in Bara-Dari. My life picture is still incomplete. My tuition work goes on as usual, my Thapar College teaches me in the day, my assignments are competed with copied material from classmates, and my machine drawing sheets though appreciated by my professors reach them very late. Because my classmates who give me their assignments to copy, take my drawing sheets to copy on their drawing sheets using a transparent glass and lamp light from below to copy my drawings on their sheets. And thus my drawing sheet keeps moving in the whole class till the last person completes copying from my drawing, which always reaches last to the professor, when every one has completed copying whoever wants to copy, many competed on their own. In UP school education, ‘technical drawing’ is a full subject and our technical drawing teacher Shri DD Gupta was appreciative of my work, enthusiasm generated out of appreciation work wonders in doing well in a subject, that too at the age of 13. So I had superiority in machine drawing over my batch mates and same was the situation in physics and chemistry, as I have completed BSc. The other advantage I was my experience as an agriculture labor, my workshops work was of superior quality in my group, black-smithy shop, welding shop, carpentry, electrician, lathe machines and foundry shop were just comforting for me. My work was so good in engineering workshop, that my foundry section head happily employed me as manager of his foundry factory in Abchal Nagar factory area Patiala and I managed their 'Durga Foundry works' for quite sometime till I got a while collar job with Hindustan Wire Products Ltd a Dhanuka group company called as 'Tar Factory'; in their Stores accounting section through a customer of Durga Boundary who became friendly over time, the owner of Rita Biscuit Factor.
My journey 4
'Baradari' means the campus that has twelve gates. The vast 'Baradari' garden built by Maharaja of Patiala was a well spread, well developed garden, having huge developed trees for all seasons, trees of fruits, flowers, having good height, big girth and very artistically designed pathways, spread in few square kilometers are, located in almost middle of Patiala. Twelve gates of Baradari gates open in all directions, near PHUL talkies, near State Bank of Patiala Head Office, near city post office, near Punjab State Electricity Board office, near Pepsu and many more. The calm, traffic, offices located in Baradari made it a busy but calm place. Students from all colleges will be here studying under one tree or other. There were no distractions of any love couple, though Patiala girls are famous for their beauty, style, fashion, open mindedness and good figure. But there were no love birds distracting the studious class. Baradari is a blessing for Patialavis.
Just reminded of the famous Ajit, Geeta Bali, Pran, Chandrasekhar movie with Naushad music, and the song ‘Tasveer Banata Hoon’ written by Khumar Barabankvi sung by Talat Mahmood. I sat near the white marble statue of bathing lady, half naked, under a huge mango tree that was in blossom and Baradari was full of fragrance of mango flowers. It was a booming season, February to April, even a sadhvi and sadhu would need a companion, living alone is difficult for a human being, most romances start this season. If not permanent, temporary romances blossom.
I am unable to paint, create, or make my picture, decision of finding a way to live. Civil engineering a four year long ordeal, give tuition and tuition, exam grades tension, and then job tension. What would parents feel, say or shout, if I quit my engineering college. They were expecting a bumper crop but had no plans to invest. But where the hell is money to survive, during first year of civil engineering half of the animals were sold, Surendra was asked to work in fields and farm-labor was given a bye.
Surendra's education was sacrificed, most animals were sold, and still there was no hope for me. A four year long course, marriage was already fixed at 20. Marriage means I will be forced to have a child at 21. What a situation it was? At stake was a civil engineering career from Thapar University Patiala, which was becoming now impossible with a rural illiterate girl’s burden on shoulders. When my father was not in a position to feed me through my education but he wanted to me marry and carry a lady as my wife. How will I feed two people? Oh my god, it was getting heavier and heavier on my head.
I thought I cannot comprehend the confused situation alone. I had a few close persons. RSS Pracharak of Patiala Shri Santoshji, who was also a civil engineering graduate from Thapar and had devoted four years of his life to RSS as a full time worker, I discussed with Santoshji, and sought his direction. People always know that given direction amounts to taking responsibility. Santoshji used to help me to overcome temporary money needs. He had introduced me to Mohanji of ‘Mohan General Stores’ at Anardana Chowk the RSS treasurer, to lend me money anytime I wanted. Later Mohan ji was assassinated by Sikh extremists in his shop on busiest market of Patiala. Santoshji suggested me to go back to my village and work there. I was not in congruence with him. I thought as I am loosing my value for him or RSS, engineering student becoming an unemployed married UP wala! Santoshji appeared to be washing his hands off me, in true RSS style.
RSS or any organisation needs you when you do not need any help. A rich person would be respectfully made ‘Chief Guest’ at any function and praised while a regular shakha swayamsewak will be used to serve him water, ‘he is our respected guest’ respected my foot, becauqe he is rich and influencial. Santoshji's family had migrated from Pakistan during ’47 (refugee) and settled in Delhi. (After one and half year when I was studying at Panjab University Campus in Chandigarh, Santoshji was also shifted by RSS to Chandigarh, Santoshji used to visit me, and I will always insist him for lunch, dinner, as per the time, we were like close family members.
After 3 months of this routine, one day he made me sit over coffee in the student centre’s Coffee House, behind library and asked why you always take him to eat, whenever he visits me but never attend Shakha. He referred that I was so popular in the University and also a trained (prashikshit) pratigyabaddha (taken Oath) swayamsewak, you should take charge of University Shaka as Karyawah. I never took part in RSS activities till he was in charge of Chandigarh as RSS pracharak. He joined Border Roads as an engineer and left. I never felt sad for his moving away. I could guess my neglecting him became difficult for him to live with. Though Chandigarh is a vast area, and lots of RSS workers, sympathizers, organizations, functions that he was managing all that, even we BJP had an ex-MP in Chandigarh also, as they have now an ex-MP. It is usual in RSS that when someone devotes four years he normally spends 7-8 years as pracharak and sometimes it could go for life as well. But in Santoshji's case he left after 4 years.
I feel now, that his suggestion to me that I should return back to village in UP could have been practical for him, based on the information I gave him. I could never narrate him my aspirations. We take some decisions based on our financial situation and some based on aspiration. I admit that most decisions I take, are based on my aspiration and not on my financial level. Then I talked to my room mate my senior Sardarji also, his suggestion was like complete your studies what is the need of marriage now.
May be I wanted to have all.
Vijay knew my 'Baradari' situation, means many ways which lead me nowhere, at least not to the destination I wanted to go, becoming an engineer keeping every other thing intact, practically unpractical. Vijay asked me to accompany her for an evening walk on the roads of model town. We sat, on a bench, near local-bus stop, bit isolated from the crowd around us. Her parents never had any issue about our intimacy with Vijay, as my father has had. Sitting on that decision bench, our talks were not going smooth. We had differing cultural perspectives and backgrounds. She was not ready to believe that my marriage will be taking place at 20, she repeated again and again “Minder, I cannot believe it, you are telling us a lie or you are assuming things. You do not want to work hard, study hard and you are making a fuss to cover up your poor grades”. She was concerned, she was with me, but she felt that I am week some where and her chiding me would do the job. This was our first focused discussion on an issue concerning any either of us. (Though, later many occasions came when her boy friend ditched her for some one else and we cried together in Dehrdun, rose garden Chandigarh and Mughal garden Pinjore, and I had to be with her in crises.) The political topics concerning RSS and Congress were debated among us quite often and routenly. She was a congress (Indira Gandhi) sympathizer and I was a known RSS honcho. We ended up with 'let us agree to disagree' type truce.
Next day morning I saw her going out of her home very early, before she goes to her office. Her cycle was still resting with wall. Bijee, her mother, was in their home’s back courtyard and we were also in our back court yard. Model Town bungalows had hardly any boundary wall, neighbors could talk, cross over boundaries for chit chat easily. My room mate Sardarji asked Bijee, "Bijee, aa Vijay saware saware kithe turi" where has Vijay gone so early, 'Kendi see Minder vaste koine milana seega". She was telling that she has gone to meet someone about Mahendra. She had gone to head of human resources of State Bank of Patiala, to explore a job for me.
Those days Bank recruitment was not so procedure bound as it is today. Branch Managers had powers to employ graduates on temporary basis for three months, when vacancies were announced, these temporary employees were regularized first, duly following procedure. A senior manager in HO working at ‘The Mall Road office’ of SBoP had vast powers and resources.
The HO of State Bank of Patiala is situated on the Mall road of Patiala that connects Railway station to the Phul Chowk (it should be Mahatma Gandhi Road in other towns). When you walk from railway station towards Phul Chowk, there is lake or big pond, next to lake is very famous and revered Kaali Mata Mandir, adjacent to Kali Temple is HO. SBoP senior officials are devotees of Kali Mata and the pujari of Kali Mata is very close to them, he was close to the Sharma family as well. Through Kali Mata Pujari Vijay's elder sister Prem Lata Sharma joined SBoP, Dharam Pal and Vijay also joined. Vijay joined very recently. However this favor was restricted to family members only.
I do not know what Vijay thought after our evening walk discussions and what she decided, I was not thinking. I only knew that my situation is not understood by anyone including her. People around me are unable to understand the situation in its entirety. The time frame for decision variables was different. Engineering education was a four year long process, needed continuous flow of one hundred rupees every month, after marriage it will become more than two hundred for one year and then it would become 250 to 300 when a child arrives. Where would be time to study, when I will be in final year of my engineering graduation my child will go to school? I will drop him to school on my way to engineering college class. And it was not easy to have a 'present value' of these variables. How to compare all these decision variables and calculate? Some variables were not even worth considering.
I was not keen to know what Vijay was doing and why. About Vijay we all knew that she was in relationship with a boy, a medical student, son of the Doctor where her father worked for long time and both families lived in the same compound of hospital in Malerkotala, for many years. It was a childhood friendship turned into love leading to marriage at an appropriate time. Her boy friend used to visit her, his retired parent doctor family also came there occasionally. There was absolutely nothing that anyone could expect from Vijay those days. It was merely her (expression of) good helping nature that she was running around to help me as she felt right. There were no land lines during those days; the appointment was not prefixed, so gentleman had already left for Kali Mandir when our lady reached his home. She returned and went to her office on her small ladies’ cycle.
Just reminded of the famous Ajit, Geeta Bali, Pran, Chandrasekhar movie with Naushad music, and the song ‘Tasveer Banata Hoon’ written by Khumar Barabankvi sung by Talat Mahmood. I sat near the white marble statue of bathing lady, half naked, under a huge mango tree that was in blossom and Baradari was full of fragrance of mango flowers. It was a booming season, February to April, even a sadhvi and sadhu would need a companion, living alone is difficult for a human being, most romances start this season. If not permanent, temporary romances blossom.
I am unable to paint, create, or make my picture, decision of finding a way to live. Civil engineering a four year long ordeal, give tuition and tuition, exam grades tension, and then job tension. What would parents feel, say or shout, if I quit my engineering college. They were expecting a bumper crop but had no plans to invest. But where the hell is money to survive, during first year of civil engineering half of the animals were sold, Surendra was asked to work in fields and farm-labor was given a bye.
Surendra's education was sacrificed, most animals were sold, and still there was no hope for me. A four year long course, marriage was already fixed at 20. Marriage means I will be forced to have a child at 21. What a situation it was? At stake was a civil engineering career from Thapar University Patiala, which was becoming now impossible with a rural illiterate girl’s burden on shoulders. When my father was not in a position to feed me through my education but he wanted to me marry and carry a lady as my wife. How will I feed two people? Oh my god, it was getting heavier and heavier on my head.
I thought I cannot comprehend the confused situation alone. I had a few close persons. RSS Pracharak of Patiala Shri Santoshji, who was also a civil engineering graduate from Thapar and had devoted four years of his life to RSS as a full time worker, I discussed with Santoshji, and sought his direction. People always know that given direction amounts to taking responsibility. Santoshji used to help me to overcome temporary money needs. He had introduced me to Mohanji of ‘Mohan General Stores’ at Anardana Chowk the RSS treasurer, to lend me money anytime I wanted. Later Mohan ji was assassinated by Sikh extremists in his shop on busiest market of Patiala. Santoshji suggested me to go back to my village and work there. I was not in congruence with him. I thought as I am loosing my value for him or RSS, engineering student becoming an unemployed married UP wala! Santoshji appeared to be washing his hands off me, in true RSS style.
RSS or any organisation needs you when you do not need any help. A rich person would be respectfully made ‘Chief Guest’ at any function and praised while a regular shakha swayamsewak will be used to serve him water, ‘he is our respected guest’ respected my foot, becauqe he is rich and influencial. Santoshji's family had migrated from Pakistan during ’47 (refugee) and settled in Delhi. (After one and half year when I was studying at Panjab University Campus in Chandigarh, Santoshji was also shifted by RSS to Chandigarh, Santoshji used to visit me, and I will always insist him for lunch, dinner, as per the time, we were like close family members.
After 3 months of this routine, one day he made me sit over coffee in the student centre’s Coffee House, behind library and asked why you always take him to eat, whenever he visits me but never attend Shakha. He referred that I was so popular in the University and also a trained (prashikshit) pratigyabaddha (taken Oath) swayamsewak, you should take charge of University Shaka as Karyawah. I never took part in RSS activities till he was in charge of Chandigarh as RSS pracharak. He joined Border Roads as an engineer and left. I never felt sad for his moving away. I could guess my neglecting him became difficult for him to live with. Though Chandigarh is a vast area, and lots of RSS workers, sympathizers, organizations, functions that he was managing all that, even we BJP had an ex-MP in Chandigarh also, as they have now an ex-MP. It is usual in RSS that when someone devotes four years he normally spends 7-8 years as pracharak and sometimes it could go for life as well. But in Santoshji's case he left after 4 years.
I feel now, that his suggestion to me that I should return back to village in UP could have been practical for him, based on the information I gave him. I could never narrate him my aspirations. We take some decisions based on our financial situation and some based on aspiration. I admit that most decisions I take, are based on my aspiration and not on my financial level. Then I talked to my room mate my senior Sardarji also, his suggestion was like complete your studies what is the need of marriage now.
May be I wanted to have all.
Vijay knew my 'Baradari' situation, means many ways which lead me nowhere, at least not to the destination I wanted to go, becoming an engineer keeping every other thing intact, practically unpractical. Vijay asked me to accompany her for an evening walk on the roads of model town. We sat, on a bench, near local-bus stop, bit isolated from the crowd around us. Her parents never had any issue about our intimacy with Vijay, as my father has had. Sitting on that decision bench, our talks were not going smooth. We had differing cultural perspectives and backgrounds. She was not ready to believe that my marriage will be taking place at 20, she repeated again and again “Minder, I cannot believe it, you are telling us a lie or you are assuming things. You do not want to work hard, study hard and you are making a fuss to cover up your poor grades”. She was concerned, she was with me, but she felt that I am week some where and her chiding me would do the job. This was our first focused discussion on an issue concerning any either of us. (Though, later many occasions came when her boy friend ditched her for some one else and we cried together in Dehrdun, rose garden Chandigarh and Mughal garden Pinjore, and I had to be with her in crises.) The political topics concerning RSS and Congress were debated among us quite often and routenly. She was a congress (Indira Gandhi) sympathizer and I was a known RSS honcho. We ended up with 'let us agree to disagree' type truce.
Next day morning I saw her going out of her home very early, before she goes to her office. Her cycle was still resting with wall. Bijee, her mother, was in their home’s back courtyard and we were also in our back court yard. Model Town bungalows had hardly any boundary wall, neighbors could talk, cross over boundaries for chit chat easily. My room mate Sardarji asked Bijee, "Bijee, aa Vijay saware saware kithe turi" where has Vijay gone so early, 'Kendi see Minder vaste koine milana seega". She was telling that she has gone to meet someone about Mahendra. She had gone to head of human resources of State Bank of Patiala, to explore a job for me.
Those days Bank recruitment was not so procedure bound as it is today. Branch Managers had powers to employ graduates on temporary basis for three months, when vacancies were announced, these temporary employees were regularized first, duly following procedure. A senior manager in HO working at ‘The Mall Road office’ of SBoP had vast powers and resources.
The HO of State Bank of Patiala is situated on the Mall road of Patiala that connects Railway station to the Phul Chowk (it should be Mahatma Gandhi Road in other towns). When you walk from railway station towards Phul Chowk, there is lake or big pond, next to lake is very famous and revered Kaali Mata Mandir, adjacent to Kali Temple is HO. SBoP senior officials are devotees of Kali Mata and the pujari of Kali Mata is very close to them, he was close to the Sharma family as well. Through Kali Mata Pujari Vijay's elder sister Prem Lata Sharma joined SBoP, Dharam Pal and Vijay also joined. Vijay joined very recently. However this favor was restricted to family members only.
I do not know what Vijay thought after our evening walk discussions and what she decided, I was not thinking. I only knew that my situation is not understood by anyone including her. People around me are unable to understand the situation in its entirety. The time frame for decision variables was different. Engineering education was a four year long process, needed continuous flow of one hundred rupees every month, after marriage it will become more than two hundred for one year and then it would become 250 to 300 when a child arrives. Where would be time to study, when I will be in final year of my engineering graduation my child will go to school? I will drop him to school on my way to engineering college class. And it was not easy to have a 'present value' of these variables. How to compare all these decision variables and calculate? Some variables were not even worth considering.
I was not keen to know what Vijay was doing and why. About Vijay we all knew that she was in relationship with a boy, a medical student, son of the Doctor where her father worked for long time and both families lived in the same compound of hospital in Malerkotala, for many years. It was a childhood friendship turned into love leading to marriage at an appropriate time. Her boy friend used to visit her, his retired parent doctor family also came there occasionally. There was absolutely nothing that anyone could expect from Vijay those days. It was merely her (expression of) good helping nature that she was running around to help me as she felt right. There were no land lines during those days; the appointment was not prefixed, so gentleman had already left for Kali Mandir when our lady reached his home. She returned and went to her office on her small ladies’ cycle.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
My journey 3
My marriage a mirage; no it is not the juggle of alphabets, no! Why was I forced into a drama called as marriage by society is a sight of insecurity among rural parents and possessiveness of parents on sons as good as ownership of domestic animals like cows or buffaloes. We have fed him so far, no he should give milk and milk to us only as we are masters. Parent word is synonym with masters. Son is a slave, or master and animal. The parent child relationship as we are made to read and cram in school morality books is all bakwas, hum-buck and utter absurd. Even among parents with good education and millions of dollars at their command consider sons as domestic animals. The relationship is just selfish, animal and master type. I never found more than that in most cases.
After working as agriculture labor in my father's farm, for the fear of bad social publicity they permitted me to go out, and I went to Thapar Institute of Engineering and Technology, now Thapar University Patiala in Punjab to study civil engineering. Initially stayed in Hostel C where most freshers used to live and Thapar was infamous for cruelest form of ragging. But well that phase passed with any physical harm to me though one among us died during the ragging. He was asked to shave the hairs from a senior's private part mix them in curd and eat. He was forced to swallow faster, his throat choke. Seniors thought he is making drama and slapped him which aggravated his situation he fell down unconscious. We heard next day that our class mate's seat is vacant for new admission. Ragging concluded with the ritual candle dance in Thaparian tradition. In darkness of a July monsoon night we were herded in the playground, ordered to get into birthday suits, thick candles were inserted into our anus that is shit holes, asked to sing Thapar Anthem loud and the candles were lighted by seniors and the dance on Thapar anthem started, well this is usual style nothing great about it.
The hostel expenses, books and stationery expenses, purchase of slide rule and fees were costly, very difficult to pay. Everyday a drawing sheet for engineering drawing class, drawing pencils, drawing board, set of squares, compass boxes, etc were needed. Hostel food whether you eat one time in a day or both times, whether you miss afternoon tea, or morning breakfast was at same cost for everyone. I could not pay the first bill even. I took a decision to leave hostel and move to near by locality called model town in a room with a partner.
The hostel dues of first month were settled from the hostel security and mess bill from mess security. I moved into a room of Rupees twenty per month rent, no advance, and I found Sardar Kamaljit Singhji, a nice sardar, though my senior as he was a third year mechanical student and I was a first year civil. We lived nicely. Kamaljit Singhji was a good cook. He used to make Roti and Kadhi every day. The Kadhi was not in curd or butter-milk, no, it was a mixture of little besan in water with salt, that was all. My job was to clean the utensils and kerosene stove after lunch and dinner. There was nothing like breakfast or evening tea, no luxury. The food was simple and same everyday, Roti and thin besan solution as curry. It saved me from hostel rent and mess bill. The house had two rooms in other room used to live Sardar Malkiyat Singh and Balkar Singh. Their job was to deliver milk door to door, and news papers, very enterprising young sardars. I learnt respect for labor from them, which used to hate till now. They were very respectful to us, the engineers, a very respectable profession at that time when India had only 60 to 70 engineering college and only very brilliant could get into engineering. Medical profession was considered as that of gods, very few colleges and few students. I never heard till that time that so and so is studying medicine, till then. They used to offer us occasionally Tea, from the saved after completing distribution.
My expenses were minimum I think I could not reduce it lesser. The lunch at shops was priced at 50 paisa, chapati, subzi and dal, no rice or curd. We were able to make it in about 15 to 20 rupees in a month and about 15 rupees in room rent and electricity. I used to feel rich if my father send a Rupees 50 money order, though my classmates living in hostel were getting 150 to 200 from their father.
This expense was not bearable by my father every time he will send me 40 or 50 money order, he will write me that this money is raised by selling a cow, next time by selling a buffalo or selling wheat grain that was kept for home kitchen. It used to make me feel guilty, dam guilty. I decided to apply for a scholarship. I made an application for scholarship to UP technical Education Board Kanpur and wrote a letter to UP Chief Minister Hemvati Nanadan Bahuguna. Luckily the CM-UP read my letter and wrote to Technical Education Board for expedition my scholarship application, I got approval with in no time, though the actual disbursement of scholarship was a very lazy affair. The scholarship amount was doubled by UP and it was sufficient for my civil engineering study. I am ever thankful to Shri Hemvati Nandan Bahuguna for making it double on my request for every beneficiary. It was a merit based scholarship, and my argument was that as I am studying out of UP, the expense is more in Punjab, the state of UP is subsidizing the engineering college so the students of UP studying outside state should be give higher scholarship amount. The scholarship amount for UP residents studying outside UP sate the amount of scholarship was doubled.My faith in functioning of government developed, which is still positive. I understand now why I chose to serve a state government s my first job, rather working for Baroda Dairy or NDDB after IRMA.
Well the scholarship money arrived after 200 days. I have to live with sold cow and buffalo everyday. I thought of doing something to earn and study. I had a good BSc degree in chemistry, so a job of chemist in a carbon black factory easily became my beginning, my first job. The factory area was at 4 kilometer distance from ‘model town’ where I lived, there no direct local bus available, walking was only way. My attraction in the factory became ‘two times tea’ from canteen. I used to wait for that moment of tea enjoyment, otherwise I could not afford purchasing tea, and there was no tea in my life. Our lunch and dinner was same Roti and besan kadhi, vegetables like potato or anything else were unaffordable. I still remember the enjoyment of the sips of that cup of tea which used to arrive from the factory canteen for employees, wow what a taste that was.
Then some suggested me to give tuition. I was a civil engineering student of respected Thapar College. So getting students was not difficult but not easy as well. I asked every Tom Dick and Harry to help me find some students. The answer used to be very polite, everyone and anyone who pass tenth exam wants to give tuition, you too. Some how a retired government hospital clerk Shri Ram Parsad Sharma , who used to call me for writing his letters occasionally as his hands used to shiver because of age helped me in arranging a tuition of two students in the same family of an executive engineer of PWD. The boy Romy Singh was a reluctant student of ninth and his sister Pinky Singh was a student of sixth. The tuition rate rupees 50 per month was fantastic in 1970. I became a private tuition master at the age of 19 years. My neighbor Sharmaji on his evening walks used to sit on tea shop the local news sharing spots. He got very good report of my teaching work at Sardar Balwant Singh's bungalow to his children Romie and Pinkey Singh. He got call from the Superintending Engineer Hira Lal Sharma, asking him if I can teach his daughter. And I was asked to teach Suman the little lady of SE Saheb at his own bungalow. The attraction at both these places was the thick Tea in very good cups, as both the families were rich educated and caring towards me, they were happy with the progress of their children.
I had two problems of walking to their places time consuming work and at times I had to prepare to teach them. My studies at Thapar started suffering; my home work which used to be heavy started becoming copied from class mates home work assignments. My drawing sheets were not reaching the mechanical department in time, as mechanical professors were taking machine drawing classes. My grades went down and I was fearful of loosing my scholarship which was still in hopes and papers. I visited Saharanpur district education Inspectors office many times, developed contacts with important clerks and got files pushed. But money was not in hand.
The day arrived when I sat down in BARADARI, the famous garden of Patiala empire, under the shadow of a tree closer to the statue of the lady in stone where the famous film ‘BARADARI’s song 'Tasveer banata hoon .. magar tasveer nahin banati...' was shot. I was also making a ‘Tasveer’ for me and my life; jo nahin ban rahi thee, my picture but my picture was taking any shape. I had an alternative that I could go back to my night job at carbon-black factory and continue teaching. This will give me 150 from salary in factory, Rs. 50 from teaching Sardar Balwnt Singh's children, Rs. 35 from teaching Shri Hira Lal Sharma's daughter, total Rs 235. A civil engineer's honest salary at that time was approximately same, though income was much more.
I was by then close to my neighbor Ram Prasad Sharmaji's family. Sharmaji's family consisted of his wife, his third as earlier two died, a son elder daughter Prem married and working in State Bank of Patiala, son Dharam Pal Sharma, again working in State Bank of Patiala and younger daughter Vijay working in Punjab Electricity Board and studying MA English literature as an external student. She also appeared for SBoP test and joined State Bank of Patiala. Prem used to visit occasionally her family life was not smooth, her passion was reading English novels, she was an avid reader, silent but watchful, she never disliked me as was usual among Punajbi families to look down UP wala bhaiya. She has same attitude with me whenever I was sitting with Sharmaji writing his letters in Hindi, Punjabi letters either Vijay or Dharam used to write.
In the background of this vividness around me; one day my father came to see me unannounced, I was out of my room, out of respect for an elder and because of my closeness with Sharma family he was treated well by Sharma family. As Vijay was at home she took all care of him. Vijay's father being too old and Mrs Sharma (Beejee) remained inside out of respect it was Vijay entertaining or attending to my father. His lunch dinner tea was offered by the Sharma family, as a token of respect.
My father returned back to UP home and declared that I am going to marry a Punjabi girl in Patiala. All heaven broke and my marriage was thrust upon me immediately in a family near our village. Rokana is a strange system where girl’s father gives some money to boy’s father as rokana. Is it a purchase agreement? That the girl's father has given an advance to purchase the boy, to boy's father? I was sold. And money was needed very badly hence the money received as an advanced was consumed by my poor parents. So I had to deliver as sale proceeds. Was it a marriage, sale or mirage! I am still searching for answer!
After working as agriculture labor in my father's farm, for the fear of bad social publicity they permitted me to go out, and I went to Thapar Institute of Engineering and Technology, now Thapar University Patiala in Punjab to study civil engineering. Initially stayed in Hostel C where most freshers used to live and Thapar was infamous for cruelest form of ragging. But well that phase passed with any physical harm to me though one among us died during the ragging. He was asked to shave the hairs from a senior's private part mix them in curd and eat. He was forced to swallow faster, his throat choke. Seniors thought he is making drama and slapped him which aggravated his situation he fell down unconscious. We heard next day that our class mate's seat is vacant for new admission. Ragging concluded with the ritual candle dance in Thaparian tradition. In darkness of a July monsoon night we were herded in the playground, ordered to get into birthday suits, thick candles were inserted into our anus that is shit holes, asked to sing Thapar Anthem loud and the candles were lighted by seniors and the dance on Thapar anthem started, well this is usual style nothing great about it.
The hostel expenses, books and stationery expenses, purchase of slide rule and fees were costly, very difficult to pay. Everyday a drawing sheet for engineering drawing class, drawing pencils, drawing board, set of squares, compass boxes, etc were needed. Hostel food whether you eat one time in a day or both times, whether you miss afternoon tea, or morning breakfast was at same cost for everyone. I could not pay the first bill even. I took a decision to leave hostel and move to near by locality called model town in a room with a partner.
The hostel dues of first month were settled from the hostel security and mess bill from mess security. I moved into a room of Rupees twenty per month rent, no advance, and I found Sardar Kamaljit Singhji, a nice sardar, though my senior as he was a third year mechanical student and I was a first year civil. We lived nicely. Kamaljit Singhji was a good cook. He used to make Roti and Kadhi every day. The Kadhi was not in curd or butter-milk, no, it was a mixture of little besan in water with salt, that was all. My job was to clean the utensils and kerosene stove after lunch and dinner. There was nothing like breakfast or evening tea, no luxury. The food was simple and same everyday, Roti and thin besan solution as curry. It saved me from hostel rent and mess bill. The house had two rooms in other room used to live Sardar Malkiyat Singh and Balkar Singh. Their job was to deliver milk door to door, and news papers, very enterprising young sardars. I learnt respect for labor from them, which used to hate till now. They were very respectful to us, the engineers, a very respectable profession at that time when India had only 60 to 70 engineering college and only very brilliant could get into engineering. Medical profession was considered as that of gods, very few colleges and few students. I never heard till that time that so and so is studying medicine, till then. They used to offer us occasionally Tea, from the saved after completing distribution.
My expenses were minimum I think I could not reduce it lesser. The lunch at shops was priced at 50 paisa, chapati, subzi and dal, no rice or curd. We were able to make it in about 15 to 20 rupees in a month and about 15 rupees in room rent and electricity. I used to feel rich if my father send a Rupees 50 money order, though my classmates living in hostel were getting 150 to 200 from their father.
This expense was not bearable by my father every time he will send me 40 or 50 money order, he will write me that this money is raised by selling a cow, next time by selling a buffalo or selling wheat grain that was kept for home kitchen. It used to make me feel guilty, dam guilty. I decided to apply for a scholarship. I made an application for scholarship to UP technical Education Board Kanpur and wrote a letter to UP Chief Minister Hemvati Nanadan Bahuguna. Luckily the CM-UP read my letter and wrote to Technical Education Board for expedition my scholarship application, I got approval with in no time, though the actual disbursement of scholarship was a very lazy affair. The scholarship amount was doubled by UP and it was sufficient for my civil engineering study. I am ever thankful to Shri Hemvati Nandan Bahuguna for making it double on my request for every beneficiary. It was a merit based scholarship, and my argument was that as I am studying out of UP, the expense is more in Punjab, the state of UP is subsidizing the engineering college so the students of UP studying outside state should be give higher scholarship amount. The scholarship amount for UP residents studying outside UP sate the amount of scholarship was doubled.My faith in functioning of government developed, which is still positive. I understand now why I chose to serve a state government s my first job, rather working for Baroda Dairy or NDDB after IRMA.
Well the scholarship money arrived after 200 days. I have to live with sold cow and buffalo everyday. I thought of doing something to earn and study. I had a good BSc degree in chemistry, so a job of chemist in a carbon black factory easily became my beginning, my first job. The factory area was at 4 kilometer distance from ‘model town’ where I lived, there no direct local bus available, walking was only way. My attraction in the factory became ‘two times tea’ from canteen. I used to wait for that moment of tea enjoyment, otherwise I could not afford purchasing tea, and there was no tea in my life. Our lunch and dinner was same Roti and besan kadhi, vegetables like potato or anything else were unaffordable. I still remember the enjoyment of the sips of that cup of tea which used to arrive from the factory canteen for employees, wow what a taste that was.
Then some suggested me to give tuition. I was a civil engineering student of respected Thapar College. So getting students was not difficult but not easy as well. I asked every Tom Dick and Harry to help me find some students. The answer used to be very polite, everyone and anyone who pass tenth exam wants to give tuition, you too. Some how a retired government hospital clerk Shri Ram Parsad Sharma , who used to call me for writing his letters occasionally as his hands used to shiver because of age helped me in arranging a tuition of two students in the same family of an executive engineer of PWD. The boy Romy Singh was a reluctant student of ninth and his sister Pinky Singh was a student of sixth. The tuition rate rupees 50 per month was fantastic in 1970. I became a private tuition master at the age of 19 years. My neighbor Sharmaji on his evening walks used to sit on tea shop the local news sharing spots. He got very good report of my teaching work at Sardar Balwant Singh's bungalow to his children Romie and Pinkey Singh. He got call from the Superintending Engineer Hira Lal Sharma, asking him if I can teach his daughter. And I was asked to teach Suman the little lady of SE Saheb at his own bungalow. The attraction at both these places was the thick Tea in very good cups, as both the families were rich educated and caring towards me, they were happy with the progress of their children.
I had two problems of walking to their places time consuming work and at times I had to prepare to teach them. My studies at Thapar started suffering; my home work which used to be heavy started becoming copied from class mates home work assignments. My drawing sheets were not reaching the mechanical department in time, as mechanical professors were taking machine drawing classes. My grades went down and I was fearful of loosing my scholarship which was still in hopes and papers. I visited Saharanpur district education Inspectors office many times, developed contacts with important clerks and got files pushed. But money was not in hand.
The day arrived when I sat down in BARADARI, the famous garden of Patiala empire, under the shadow of a tree closer to the statue of the lady in stone where the famous film ‘BARADARI’s song 'Tasveer banata hoon .. magar tasveer nahin banati...' was shot. I was also making a ‘Tasveer’ for me and my life; jo nahin ban rahi thee, my picture but my picture was taking any shape. I had an alternative that I could go back to my night job at carbon-black factory and continue teaching. This will give me 150 from salary in factory, Rs. 50 from teaching Sardar Balwnt Singh's children, Rs. 35 from teaching Shri Hira Lal Sharma's daughter, total Rs 235. A civil engineer's honest salary at that time was approximately same, though income was much more.
I was by then close to my neighbor Ram Prasad Sharmaji's family. Sharmaji's family consisted of his wife, his third as earlier two died, a son elder daughter Prem married and working in State Bank of Patiala, son Dharam Pal Sharma, again working in State Bank of Patiala and younger daughter Vijay working in Punjab Electricity Board and studying MA English literature as an external student. She also appeared for SBoP test and joined State Bank of Patiala. Prem used to visit occasionally her family life was not smooth, her passion was reading English novels, she was an avid reader, silent but watchful, she never disliked me as was usual among Punajbi families to look down UP wala bhaiya. She has same attitude with me whenever I was sitting with Sharmaji writing his letters in Hindi, Punjabi letters either Vijay or Dharam used to write.
In the background of this vividness around me; one day my father came to see me unannounced, I was out of my room, out of respect for an elder and because of my closeness with Sharma family he was treated well by Sharma family. As Vijay was at home she took all care of him. Vijay's father being too old and Mrs Sharma (Beejee) remained inside out of respect it was Vijay entertaining or attending to my father. His lunch dinner tea was offered by the Sharma family, as a token of respect.
My father returned back to UP home and declared that I am going to marry a Punjabi girl in Patiala. All heaven broke and my marriage was thrust upon me immediately in a family near our village. Rokana is a strange system where girl’s father gives some money to boy’s father as rokana. Is it a purchase agreement? That the girl's father has given an advance to purchase the boy, to boy's father? I was sold. And money was needed very badly hence the money received as an advanced was consumed by my poor parents. So I had to deliver as sale proceeds. Was it a marriage, sale or mirage! I am still searching for answer!
My journey2
I do not know why life goes without bothering about us. Some concern must be shown to what we are and how we move along with life and its various forms, fervor and favours. Why cannot we forget the happenings of childhood when you never what is this and you are amidst village damsels, as la Krishna of Nandgaon and Barsaane in Mathura. Every teenage girl wants to sleep with you for some time and you do not know what it is. Shimala, Isha, Kashmira, Vikasa, Prakash, wants to have you elope with you every time they have time.
Every so called Aunt worth her good looks wants to have an affair with during anytime of the day when their husbands are away in agriculture field. Why Rameela and Suresh wants you to sleep in their home all the night when their mother have gone to her mayaka, you have whole night to play. Why do respected ladies in the society outside, remove their clothes including bra and petticoat when you go their home on their call. They are very elder may be bit younger then my mother but have charming healthy gori body and elopes with you.
We are taught morals of relationships in the school but the sisters in larger family, and aunts with very satisfied love life, having children; opens their body glow to mesmerize you. I used to read Gita in the morning, I used to recite Gayatri Mantra 11 times in morning worship ritual; but I never knew what Karma is waiting for me in the noon and with which beautiful Aunty or sister, or a group of them.
It was a complex life. Morning life was as Gita-Press publications suggest to a boy, which were bought from Gita Press Gorakhpur's Haridwar Har-ki-Paudi stall. The good books were meant to give sanskaars to the young child, a metaphysical state. and the female bodies of various ages were eagerly rubbing my body for physical pleasures. The paradox of complexity of human mind, body and desires could never became clear to me. As an obedient boy I went through all this drama of absurdity. The morals were confused, hypocrasy to the core. The mother of three calls me 'son' preaches me good behavior but when got a chance will remove her clothes, in close house and jump on me. She is still alive a very rich lady. The girls of street would assemble in home of one of them, then they will send a message to me through some child that I am called by so and so. And I am asked to play Krishna with group of 3 or 4 Gopikas, all elder to me.
We are told and taught in academia the village as a pure place, a place of highest morality, good harmonious relations and comradeship. But I always felt it a place of complex sexual immorality; sodomy and homosexuality was the order of everyday life. When I used to go for morning ease in the sugarcane field I do not know how the Chamari or the schedule class dalit women or dalit girls, working in farms notice me and follow me in side the thick sugarcane field and sit just opposite to me, easing and looking at me with sexual greed and finally blackmailing me into sexual act else my beating was a shout away from her, if do not do she shouts; in that shit lidded holes you do shit.
There are few such obscene incidents that I would hate to recollect then, they are so unethical and para-moral, oh my god. You would say you enjoyed your boyhood? Somehow the paradox of religion that my parents used to thrust upon me and the ugly sexual act that used to follow or happen with me there, just finished my faith in every relation howsoever close pious it should have been. I never hated my relatives for this, I mean, members of my family or larger family, never, but could never like to live in that over pouring of love of sex with females of every age and every relationship (cast and creed).
I decided to keep my children away from this hell. And I never took them to my village for longer stay there; they are not made to know about who are their cousins, their Aunts, their uncles or maternal uncle. They should not be subjected to the absurdity of sex with outwardly, socially honorable ladies or torture of sodomy from respected uncles and elder brothers. Never!
Every so called Aunt worth her good looks wants to have an affair with during anytime of the day when their husbands are away in agriculture field. Why Rameela and Suresh wants you to sleep in their home all the night when their mother have gone to her mayaka, you have whole night to play. Why do respected ladies in the society outside, remove their clothes including bra and petticoat when you go their home on their call. They are very elder may be bit younger then my mother but have charming healthy gori body and elopes with you.
We are taught morals of relationships in the school but the sisters in larger family, and aunts with very satisfied love life, having children; opens their body glow to mesmerize you. I used to read Gita in the morning, I used to recite Gayatri Mantra 11 times in morning worship ritual; but I never knew what Karma is waiting for me in the noon and with which beautiful Aunty or sister, or a group of them.
It was a complex life. Morning life was as Gita-Press publications suggest to a boy, which were bought from Gita Press Gorakhpur's Haridwar Har-ki-Paudi stall. The good books were meant to give sanskaars to the young child, a metaphysical state. and the female bodies of various ages were eagerly rubbing my body for physical pleasures. The paradox of complexity of human mind, body and desires could never became clear to me. As an obedient boy I went through all this drama of absurdity. The morals were confused, hypocrasy to the core. The mother of three calls me 'son' preaches me good behavior but when got a chance will remove her clothes, in close house and jump on me. She is still alive a very rich lady. The girls of street would assemble in home of one of them, then they will send a message to me through some child that I am called by so and so. And I am asked to play Krishna with group of 3 or 4 Gopikas, all elder to me.
We are told and taught in academia the village as a pure place, a place of highest morality, good harmonious relations and comradeship. But I always felt it a place of complex sexual immorality; sodomy and homosexuality was the order of everyday life. When I used to go for morning ease in the sugarcane field I do not know how the Chamari or the schedule class dalit women or dalit girls, working in farms notice me and follow me in side the thick sugarcane field and sit just opposite to me, easing and looking at me with sexual greed and finally blackmailing me into sexual act else my beating was a shout away from her, if do not do she shouts; in that shit lidded holes you do shit.
There are few such obscene incidents that I would hate to recollect then, they are so unethical and para-moral, oh my god. You would say you enjoyed your boyhood? Somehow the paradox of religion that my parents used to thrust upon me and the ugly sexual act that used to follow or happen with me there, just finished my faith in every relation howsoever close pious it should have been. I never hated my relatives for this, I mean, members of my family or larger family, never, but could never like to live in that over pouring of love of sex with females of every age and every relationship (cast and creed).
I decided to keep my children away from this hell. And I never took them to my village for longer stay there; they are not made to know about who are their cousins, their Aunts, their uncles or maternal uncle. They should not be subjected to the absurdity of sex with outwardly, socially honorable ladies or torture of sodomy from respected uncles and elder brothers. Never!
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
My journey
Life or jeevan as it is referred to in India is a journey or yatra. They say in religion, in theology, and also in common lore. My journey or meri-yatra is on its last 'padaav' leg of journey of my life at sixty. But I still feel that my journey is yet to start. I have not accomplished, it appears that if anything that I was destined to achieve her on this earth in this Janm or life, I have not achieved. Does it means that I will have to run around here after my death as ‘a-tript’ unsatisfied Atma or soul I was asked to learn science by my parents and their environment, society, value system and job potential, I did that. But later when I started working as Engineer in a chemical factory I found that MBA lady from Tata is boss and I decided to get qualified to become (my) boss type. She was a charming Sardarni-ji.
I can never forget the shouting threatening words of my father when he used to get furious about my study “tumhe padhanaa nahi hai .. humein padhana hai" meaning you do not have to study (what you are good at rather) we have to teach you (what we decide for us). And my destiny was confused. I used to read science because that was the subject of study for 'good boys' not arts or commerce for weak boys. And I used to write 'lekh' that is essays and poems for my school magazines. I am still looking for an answer why my college kept me as 'student editor' of college magazine when actually I moved to next college (KL DAV College for graduation) and was not a student in Government College Roorkee (an Inter college). I did asked my old principal and teachers in GIC, but the answer was a vague 'Gurujanon-kaa-ashirwad' blessings of teachers who like you and reward for your previous years contributions. I believe it was right of present students to edit the college magazine 'Shyamala'.
My beloved Hindi teacher Shri Shiv Dayalu Trivedi, who loved and cared for me as my real father, used to say, 'intelligent boys can do well in any subject, but he would excel in the subject they love'. And he was very true when I got good marks in science and mathematics in my higher secondary examination (a door of engineering admissions in India) but got record breaking marks in Language Hindi.
I am still mentally between what my biological father asked me to do and my guru-father said in desperation, he wanted me to excel and my father wanted me to become commercially viable. Poverty thrust upon us such compulsions. My family was not having sufficient resources to pay for my college education. I was pressurized to join through entrance examination the best available career known to us with the University of Roorkee now Indian Institute of Technology. But I was one year short in age requirements. IIT Roorkee at that time expected its enrolled students to be above 17 years of age. I passed my qualifying intermediate examination at 16 and hence to wait in B Sc course of KL DAV College Roorkee. Fortunately or unfortunately I got active in student activities, was elected to a post (General Secretary) and that opened platform of actively participating in student actions. Hindi andolan was on peak and enough recipes to give speeches in love of our mother-language Matri-bhasha and I got more and more into it. My beloved Tauji, elder-of-my-father was representing our constituency in Parliament and that was more than enough for me to think more of politics than my career.
Even in all neglect of entrance examination of IIT Roorkee I cleared it. I got a seat in the architecture course of IIT. But my father acknowledged only one branch of engineering and Civil Engineering, Roorkee is the greatest seat of learning Civil Engineering in Asia, no two views about it. But that was not reason for my father likes, it was the sure shot and shortest way to earn 'extra' income as a civil engineer. The Dams, the Canal network, Roads were under construction all government plans and projects were devoted to make civil engineers and civil contractors rich. Needless to say a civil engineer during that period was more 'worthy-for good-alliance' than a Doctor or District collector. Because, a civil engineer was 'well known' rich and he was going to be richer by day.
My politics involvement made my studying in Roorkee 'not possible' in my father's view. I had started Rashtriya Swayamsewak Sangh (RSS) shakha in my village, attended the training camps and the OTC Officers Training Camp. My father was sure ' Mundaa bigad gaya'. The height of his desperation with my RSS and other similar activities came to surface when he met on my request to our RSS karyawah (secretary) in charge of the district a much respected Professor of English and blamed RSS a bunch of homosexuals.
In-spite of getting a seat in prestigious University of Roorkee (IIT now) and study Architecture I packed out of my town and village. Presumably to separate me from accused homosexuals and leader-y that I was accused of; and was told 'kahin baahar admission le lo par civil engineering mein'. I started applying for admission to all over India in Regional Engineering Colleges, thanks god my marks were okay and I got engineering seat in REC Warangal, Motilal Nehru REC Allahabad, Banaras Hindu University's Institute of Technology, Delhi Engineering College are some of them. But now my father a school teacher was transferred to a far away ( from standards of that period) and expenses were more, the poverty was more cruel. And I was lectured upon informing my admission success with 'Foreign Chale Jao- Banaras kyaa’. Let me mention here Banaras was breeding place of most Indian politicians. So my father's argument was 'Neta banane jaana chahata hai, padhane nahi' "he wants to go Banaras for leader-y not for study and that way my 2 years passed by doing useless filthy work.
I kept working in my small agriculture as labour, waking up whole night to irrigate sugarcane/ wheat crop, day chopping fodder manually, feeding buffaloes and bulls, removing their dung, carrying their dung on head to the field and spreading mixing in mitti earth. All rainy season my presence on the roof was unavoidable as the mud-roof would leak in every rain and I was the smallest in family to repair the mud-roof with out breaking it with body-load and I was available. It was necessary in view of my father to keep me busy, away from leader-y with un-cultured people.
God felt some pity for me and social stigma on my father acted and I was permitted to go out to study after 2 years of full time agriculture-labor work. Just a small side track, I was brought down to such a low esteem by my father's dictate to work hard as labor that when I joined a company after BE and MBA, in a factory producing Oil from Soybeans, I cried out of fear that 'mujhe ab itni Boriyan uthani padengi' mean I will be loading and unloading so many bags full of soybean from trucks and into trucks. :) forgetting for a moment that I there is labor for this work. Oh my god, even today when I see a huge pile of bags being loaded in to a truck, scary for me ...do I have to lift and load these.
I can never forget the shouting threatening words of my father when he used to get furious about my study “tumhe padhanaa nahi hai .. humein padhana hai" meaning you do not have to study (what you are good at rather) we have to teach you (what we decide for us). And my destiny was confused. I used to read science because that was the subject of study for 'good boys' not arts or commerce for weak boys. And I used to write 'lekh' that is essays and poems for my school magazines. I am still looking for an answer why my college kept me as 'student editor' of college magazine when actually I moved to next college (KL DAV College for graduation) and was not a student in Government College Roorkee (an Inter college). I did asked my old principal and teachers in GIC, but the answer was a vague 'Gurujanon-kaa-ashirwad' blessings of teachers who like you and reward for your previous years contributions. I believe it was right of present students to edit the college magazine 'Shyamala'.
My beloved Hindi teacher Shri Shiv Dayalu Trivedi, who loved and cared for me as my real father, used to say, 'intelligent boys can do well in any subject, but he would excel in the subject they love'. And he was very true when I got good marks in science and mathematics in my higher secondary examination (a door of engineering admissions in India) but got record breaking marks in Language Hindi.
I am still mentally between what my biological father asked me to do and my guru-father said in desperation, he wanted me to excel and my father wanted me to become commercially viable. Poverty thrust upon us such compulsions. My family was not having sufficient resources to pay for my college education. I was pressurized to join through entrance examination the best available career known to us with the University of Roorkee now Indian Institute of Technology. But I was one year short in age requirements. IIT Roorkee at that time expected its enrolled students to be above 17 years of age. I passed my qualifying intermediate examination at 16 and hence to wait in B Sc course of KL DAV College Roorkee. Fortunately or unfortunately I got active in student activities, was elected to a post (General Secretary) and that opened platform of actively participating in student actions. Hindi andolan was on peak and enough recipes to give speeches in love of our mother-language Matri-bhasha and I got more and more into it. My beloved Tauji, elder-of-my-father was representing our constituency in Parliament and that was more than enough for me to think more of politics than my career.
Even in all neglect of entrance examination of IIT Roorkee I cleared it. I got a seat in the architecture course of IIT. But my father acknowledged only one branch of engineering and Civil Engineering, Roorkee is the greatest seat of learning Civil Engineering in Asia, no two views about it. But that was not reason for my father likes, it was the sure shot and shortest way to earn 'extra' income as a civil engineer. The Dams, the Canal network, Roads were under construction all government plans and projects were devoted to make civil engineers and civil contractors rich. Needless to say a civil engineer during that period was more 'worthy-for good-alliance' than a Doctor or District collector. Because, a civil engineer was 'well known' rich and he was going to be richer by day.
My politics involvement made my studying in Roorkee 'not possible' in my father's view. I had started Rashtriya Swayamsewak Sangh (RSS) shakha in my village, attended the training camps and the OTC Officers Training Camp. My father was sure ' Mundaa bigad gaya'. The height of his desperation with my RSS and other similar activities came to surface when he met on my request to our RSS karyawah (secretary) in charge of the district a much respected Professor of English and blamed RSS a bunch of homosexuals.
In-spite of getting a seat in prestigious University of Roorkee (IIT now) and study Architecture I packed out of my town and village. Presumably to separate me from accused homosexuals and leader-y that I was accused of; and was told 'kahin baahar admission le lo par civil engineering mein'. I started applying for admission to all over India in Regional Engineering Colleges, thanks god my marks were okay and I got engineering seat in REC Warangal, Motilal Nehru REC Allahabad, Banaras Hindu University's Institute of Technology, Delhi Engineering College are some of them. But now my father a school teacher was transferred to a far away ( from standards of that period) and expenses were more, the poverty was more cruel. And I was lectured upon informing my admission success with 'Foreign Chale Jao- Banaras kyaa’. Let me mention here Banaras was breeding place of most Indian politicians. So my father's argument was 'Neta banane jaana chahata hai, padhane nahi' "he wants to go Banaras for leader-y not for study and that way my 2 years passed by doing useless filthy work.
I kept working in my small agriculture as labour, waking up whole night to irrigate sugarcane/ wheat crop, day chopping fodder manually, feeding buffaloes and bulls, removing their dung, carrying their dung on head to the field and spreading mixing in mitti earth. All rainy season my presence on the roof was unavoidable as the mud-roof would leak in every rain and I was the smallest in family to repair the mud-roof with out breaking it with body-load and I was available. It was necessary in view of my father to keep me busy, away from leader-y with un-cultured people.
God felt some pity for me and social stigma on my father acted and I was permitted to go out to study after 2 years of full time agriculture-labor work. Just a small side track, I was brought down to such a low esteem by my father's dictate to work hard as labor that when I joined a company after BE and MBA, in a factory producing Oil from Soybeans, I cried out of fear that 'mujhe ab itni Boriyan uthani padengi' mean I will be loading and unloading so many bags full of soybean from trucks and into trucks. :) forgetting for a moment that I there is labor for this work. Oh my god, even today when I see a huge pile of bags being loaded in to a truck, scary for me ...do I have to lift and load these.
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