The Power of 49

Everything in Punjab is king-size. We are gluttons for food, our drinks, (largest guzzlers), we make the best hosts, love bling, ostentatious life, the bigger the better, and the brighter well that is our middle name. And, there is something that sets us racing; you know gossip. And, we do everything with such ease and panache.

I was invited to one of the few page 3 social high teas; I don’t qualify on the grid because of my rural postal address, not wearing the de riguer western clothes and the so important solitaires. I went dressed up in my finery. Did I mention there is a thin, invisible, unwritten code for dressing up here to enter into the haloed circles?

Well that is for another day. The tea was scrumptious, the company brilliant and the woman smart, all of them from the finest families of Doab and names to be reckoned with. And, we discussed diets, the ever-problematic fluctuating weight that haunts all of us. Then the conversation steered to the favorite subject, politics.

Two parties exist here, and there are no shades of grey here. Either you are a true blue Akali or a die hard Congress. There is the birth of AAP. I heard the whole spiel of no development, bad roads, drugs, alcohol and the loss of Punjab and the stature. Blah Blah it went on.

I just asked on simple question, which area are you from, and who is your MLA?

The woman had no clue and they didn’t know what there area / constituency. This is the Power of 49. I am embarrassed, mortified that we the women are the custodians of the future generations that can shape the next parliament have no clue who we should vote for. We are so lax, to whom to vote for.

Women, be the change you want to see. Get out of the comfort zone and then make these sweeping statements. These generalizing dialogs are only great if we know our background. Women can make or break the future of the generations to come, we can steer them to be conscientious and responsible voters if we are clear ourselves. The onus does not end at voting but to choose the right candidate. Just just getting the blue dot on your fingertip doesn’t blind the candidate his/her qualifications matter. If you vote blindly, well don’t complain later. The responsibility starts with us , and the emergence of the newest Belan Brigade also shows that hope is there to end misuse of alcohol!

Lead, start the way , think beyond woman . 

Where is the next Punjabi coming from?

This post doesn't concern any one of us , and in some fashion it is important for society. You may , ignore ,act upon it or merely read , press the cursory like ( so obligatory) these days ...
I run a school since the last two years ,and we went form strength to strength starting from three to above 100 and fluctuating every now and then with  jagraata, wedding, visits to grandparents and so forth.. Just the usual ! However, there has been a remarked change in their day to day dealings. the children  listen to discipline and how we try to instil the value of time, why it is important to sit still, to greet the teachers and why it is essential to be neat and clean.
The eureka moment is when they have stared grooming themselves. Clean hair, no crazy mohawk hairstyles, plaits for the girls, and clean smart bright faces. This did not happen overnight nor did it happen because we forced them . Its been going over it again and again. The children have also understood the importance of hygiene and cleanliness and why ears , teeth, and hair should be clean! Ok , we are a bit crazy here , but in fact treatment of the families in totality has led to no skin problems !
I am not reading a report here, nor am I wanting any accolades , my point here is that ; in spite of all this , the Punjab Education Policy sucks.
I dont know who made it , or what they were thinking of or what was in their mind. Ladies and Gentlemen , we don't stand an effing chance anywhere. Forget development, forget agriculture advancement, forget any industrial policy . Where is the next Punjabi coming from?
A Punjabi , is hardworking, always looking to seize the next opportunity .
 A system, which doesn't fail any child , however ridiculous his marks are , one which allows you to be absent for the whole year , no child is taught basic maths, where they are told , and clearly earmarked the questions that will come . They are ticked on the guide,  And told to buy JPH or MBD guide books.
Is there a nexus? Why cant they just buy the guide books straight away ? Why such a farce on the syllabus books?
Its annual examination time , but the scenario is depressing and dismal , in comparison to the private school children. Our school has a mixture of both .. the rich , the poor and the very poor.
They are the ones who are tomorrows Punjabis. You and I are neo- Punjabis , enjoying the world and its affluence but claiming to be Punjabis ! I wish we could help the system, I don't care about corruption or other ills , they are in plenty in the West but the education policy needs to be revamped.
It is sad when the child looks back at you , when he doesn't understand why english is a funny language  and why he still must learn the telegram format when I try to convince them that telegrams have been stopped officially.
Save these innocent souls, they deserve better , just because we can help them. And , before you say Akalis, or Congress, they are both equally to be blamed. We didn't do great in either one's regimes. Teachers have lost their conscious , it seems they have all been sucked into the knitting sweater, parallel
job syndrome.
All it takes is each one , teach one slogan and you don't need a fancy room, or equipment. They are not bothered, all they need is love understanding and patience , just like the rest of us..

Maharaja In Denims !

Maharaja In Denims , a title that grabs your attention , when one gets a copy along with the handsome stately sardar on the cover. The novel is a racy exploit of Hari Singh who typically personifies the affluent Punjabi youth ; typical of money , life in the fast lane and girls. Khushwant Singh, the author who is otherwise known for his much acclaimed biography of oldest marathon runner Fauja Singh, cleverly uses his local knowledge of the social, political and youth seen of Chandigarh, the twin capital of Punjab and Haryana ,to muster images of the city, which is termed as the most beautiful in India.

And when you are complacent thinking well its another soft erotic book , he deftly transports you to a different world, era , times and throws in past life flashbacks where the protagonist feels he is reincarnation of the only real Maharaja of Punjab, the mighty Ranjit Singh and starts comparing his Punjab with the present. The book swings to an even more crafty level when the author suddenly takes through past life regression and Hari recalls two other past lives. This part has to be handled with care because the author provokes you with real time events that have halted India's march which the faint hearted would find it hard to handle.

For history buffs ,this book has been researched extensively and the comparison of the old Punjab with the new day Punjab is what catches me . I like the simple back and forth to old and new along with a chapter thrown into the future telling us what Punjab will be if we do not take care of it .

Its a fresh approach to Punjab, with innuendos to the political system and how they manipulate us , the voters. The author, Khushwant also keeps the romance alive and makes everyone happy in the and ( climax scene just like the Bolly wood movies). Maybe there is a script somewhere ..who knows! The book is one of the most gripping reads published in recent times , and is a must read.

Path and some lessons

Yesterday was 8^th March and we were all commemorating International  Women day, but for us we had a religious function at home , with Simer finishing of her first Sehaj path and luckily and fortunately we had the august presence of Baba Iqbal Singhji of Baru Sahib who came to ‘ put the Bhog and we had kirtan at our place amongst our family and friends.

The highlight of the whole function were the shabad kirtan done by the Gurmat Sangeet students under Akal Academy . The gist of the shabads  were of the union of the soul with the creator. The yearning , the anguish and the longing comparable to the love of a woman who is parted from her husband . I  was moved by the young men , who sang in such a pure , raw form , unencumbered by materialistic strings that actually is so visible nowadays. It’s as if the purest form of devotion has also become a business, raking in money for its singers. The young boys sang of the human form which is akin to a husband that seeks fulfilment with his  wife, the longing is like that of a lover who searches for his fulfillment of his love.  After, the moving , pure recital that had us all enthralled , we had  katha by Babaji.

In fact , the explanation of the Hukam nama and the satsang done made me realize how futile our existence is. Babaji, said , that all have come and gone. No one is permanent , we all come with a limited existence . Death is the only permanence in this otherwise unpredictable life that is volatile at every turn.Man in his existence has become a creature , bogged down by materialism, stress, tensions forgetting the real purpose of his life. We take form in the human , mortal form after a cycle of birth death in other forms and then we can attain salvation or the release of the soul what do we do we run after materialistic pursuits , lust , we become gluttons, thievery , hoodwinking fraud are middle name, we all pursue a life that is governed by ' what will the other person say . Babaji's  talk was lucid hard-hitting and direct . I loved his direct humour , with no bones spared. His talk was peppered with anecdotes that brought the point home to us. When Alexander the Great died, his mother cried copiously, howling on the grave. A voice came from within the earth, stunning her," which Alexander do you weep for?'. We all are caught in the malstorm of pleasuring the human body , the gratification is superficial  and immediate nothing is done for the soul that dwells within. 

We are given this human form to improve this soul . Imagine going to heaven , and trying to rid the scars on the soul ! This , according to the scriptures and Him is only attainable , by reciting the Naam. We can wipe out the sufferings, lust and desires by Naam Jaap.

Baba Iqbal Singh ji had ample time to talk to us, and then further  illustrated his point by telling a short story highlighting how  on our death bed one gets attached to a materialistic thought that traps the soul. He told us , how Duni Chand called Guru Nanak Dev ji for a religious function  to remember his father who had died.Nanak sat in his room and everyone was outside . Duni Chand asked Babaji to partake langar . But Babaji stunned by telling him that your father is seven miles away , a shrunken starved wolf with his mouth watering and in the forest . Duni Chand was stunned, how can this be possible , my father was a generous person. He must have passed on to heaven.  Duni Chand went into the forest and when he saw the wolf roaming there where his father had been cremated; he rushed back to Babaji. Then , he told him , when your father was on his death bed , you were cooking meat and the whiff of the tadka went into his nostrils. 

The last minute yearning to eat meat , and to be caught in the temptation is why he took re-birth as a wolf. Man, on his death bed should remember God, jaap, and not to cry at the last breath. The soul gets lost  and caught between and in transition. 

I feel , as humans we are so swayed by the glitter, glamour and glitz that we are forever trying to appease ourselves. In fact , we all forget an essence of life that this too shall happen with us. Hoarding of wealth thinking , that one cannot take into Jannat . Where are the pockets, my dear?

I apologise for any mis-information written by me, all faults are mine. He is a brahmgyani , who is trying to improve us and also to guide us by showing the light . However, we remain mere mortals caught in the trappings of life.

Aap or Hum

Lahore 

21st Dec.201

11:02am

Dear Diary,

life is the same everywhere , here or there , at every place on this planet . The human psyche is the same , we all want the elusive , forgetting what we have and the treasures we have in our fist. Always,looking for the unreachable . Ammi , has been dropping silent hints that I need to try again and have  another baby ; which Inshallah this time would be a boy. I am happy contented, Ahmed is happy so why cant we be left alone to live our lives? The pressure, the subtle hints, the tactics, the carrot dangled in the form of a bigger solitaire , money .. 

uff! I wish i could just shout loud , this stifles me. what happened to Fatima? Isn't she important? finally I have regained my life back.. the lost stomach , the droopy boobs finally in shape. The 3 am crazy feedings, the feeling of being a cow and a milk machine.. the cries, the fever, tonsils, rash . I mean all the totkas are known ,every dai's secret method to fix colic is known . But, the pressure to produce the heir to the name. 

Aren't my dolls heiresses in their right? And now I have to go visit someone who will help me with this .. do i give in or its quieter and the tension , hassle is less to fight. Hmm.. hit the speed dial to Allah ..

Chandigarh

21st Dec 2012

3:33pm

Dear Diary,

Urghhhhh! Why oh why ? Why do i have to have another baby? Why cant one child be enough? Don't they worry about the population explosion? Don't they the know that the  earth is going to explode? Hello, how are we going to be sure ? When are you going to ask me, you  nincompoop?When am i going to be asked, that I want a child or not? Didn't men go through the science classes that it's their Y chromosome's that decide the sex and not mine. I do not decide what I am going to deliver .. it's you ! It's as if the world is going to end if I don't deliver the Bouy... 
Save me Babaji ... I want to work , I want to make my business a success...

Children of a lesser God

He walks with a swagger, with a smile. And he walks with a bounce , not knowing what tomorrow holds for him! Mangal is a ten year old who knows not what life is , or where his next meal is coming. No ipads, no smart phones , no gizmos , nothing. Just how to go about life everyday and where the next roti is going to come from.

Punjab is a melting pot of all the migrants who leave their homes for greener pastures (pun intended). They come from all the states like Orissa, Bihar, Jharkhand and the maximum come from UP. At the farm, we have groups and groups of children, with their parents who come to work seasonally to earn their living. Such a boy is Mangal, who has come with his father and his stepmother brought here to earn and eat his living. When one looks at him, you see this tiny, short, dark as anything boy merely a seven year old. The striking looks, matched with bright as a button eyes proudly claims his age as ten years. Well, Mangal ran away to a nearby village because his stepmother was beating him and then we got him back at the farm.

The little boy is here with me, and his intense looks mesmerize you. What is his fault? Is it his stars? The particular alignment that is blamed for every problem in our lives according to the pundits.  When I gave him mis-matched clothes, a pink pajama with his blue cardigan the smile he gave me was priceless! In fact, he lit up with his warm clothes, as earlier he was clad in a torn shirt with loose pants, with red color on his body. When I asked him, why do you have color on your body? He remarked wisely, saying, everyone knows, no one is going to stand for me, so that’s why they put the marka (screen print color for the gunny bags) on me!

These kids have no one. India, is progressing but at what cost? Elections are around the corner, but the cacophony of voices is just over slander and mudslinging to the nth order. No one thinks about the nameless, faceless children who are lost in the system, living, working worse than animals, losing their innocence in this society. We have tall statesmen, society NGO’s who preach the most but they all get shoved under the mat after elections, before that they are poster boys of garnering votes.

Children of lesser God, deserve better, and I think it is up to us, to change and pave the way for these nameless Chotu’s and Nikkis, rather than asking the political party to change the way. Do your bit and see the precious smile that can light a thousand ships.

Fifty Shades of grey - India Style

Fifty Shades of Grey – India Style

Ha! Got you on reading the article. This is no attempt to introduce you into erotic reading but just describing the political scenario in India. Every youngster (and this comes from my nephew) is confused, literally grey and polarized.  What to do, on one hand we have a n individual who symbolized the IIT dream and the successive rise into a government job who then went on the warpath and gave it up to singlehandedly revolutionize the system and promising us Utopia. India where there was no corruption, a country where jobs were for all, adequate electricity and water, and rights for the down trodden, the common man, the Mungeri lal! Then on the other side we have a right wing mammoth who has taken India by the storm by his clever speeches, the meteoric rise form a chai wallah to heading a successful govt in Gujarat but who can never erase the blot of communal riots. Those riots haunt him, and he never clears but answers back with clever rhetoric and challenging the other character in the arena. Pappu and Madam ji.

Pappu ji, gave his first interview and just bungled as a kid who learnt by rote an essay on The Cow and kept on answering the same answers for everything. I don’t know about his vision for the system it is just juvenile and nothing concrete for the India of tomorrow. Yes, he is a romantic figure and girls swoon over him, but romance isn’t going to run a country!

There is also the ubiquitous third front leader, colorful characters who add the necessary drama, the right amount of blackmail, the essential caste drama, and the very fact they can befool large percentage of our population that is rightly the Aam Janta. India is a country that is sitting on an explosion keg, the youth that is swayed by fundamental rights, emotions, high drama. They are a percentage that get riled up with emotion who have been brought up on virtual networking, face book viral statuses updates, a generation that is more connected to the umbilical cord of whatsapp, snap chat now. They are an instagrammer gen-x who are at once highly private but have their lives on display on their profiles once you break into their secret coven. I know for a fact, I have four boys now young men in the household.

It is a precarious situation where we need to tell them about the lessons of life not by Bollywood rang de Basanti , or Bhagat Singh the revolutionary but by the ground reality and the permutation and combinations of life. Maybe I am getting in my dotage , that I tell them to be patient and not be enamored by politics, this quick rise, make money get rich , have big car syndrome image of our leaders.

It is best for them to realize that life is grey and nothing is black and white as they believe in and coalition is the fifty shades of India.

Ravneet Sangha