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.