"Gori sove sej par, mukh par daare khes,
Chal Khusrau ghar aapno, saanjh bhai chanhu des"
(One of my most favorite couplets, composed by Amir Khusrau at the time of Nizam-ud-din Auliya's death)

Finally, I'll plagiarise. Yes, I know there is no word like that, but it comes from the root word 'plagiarism'. That much was guessable, I guess. Of about the five blogs I religiously follow, one draws me towards it on a daily basis. It is called An Indian Muslim's Blog: News, Views & Urdu Poetry Website; and in particular, it is the poetry bit which charms me the most. Every night,  I end up reading some really beautiful Urdu couplets from his blog, which invariably make me reflective and happy as my eye lids get heavy, and I drift into a peaceful slumber.

I have stolen some exquisite pieces of shayari from various sources over the years- blogs like the one mentioned above, newspaper columns (especially the ones penned by Khushwant Singh), random books, even public hoardings at times. All of these have been lovingly preserved on the pages of my journal. Today, I feel taking a whiff of their mustiness, smile, and pour the best of them here, on my blog. I reckon I kind of really love my blog. I end up recording the best things here. These poetries are also one of them.

Meherbaan hoke bulaa lo mujhe chaaho jis waqt
Main gayaa waqt nahiiN huuN ki phir aa bhii na sakoon.

(Ghalib)

Is saadgii pe kaun na mar jaaye aye Khudaa
Ladte haiN aur haath mein talwaar bhii nahi

(Ghalib again)

Kab thahregaa dard-e-dil kab raat basar hogi
Sunte the voh aayenge, sunte the sahar hogi

(Faiz Ahmed Faiz)

Jo chaahti duniya hai, voh mujhse nahi hoga
Samjhautaa koi khwaab ke badle nahi hoga
(Shaharyar)

Khamoshi chhupaati hai aib aur hunar dono
Shakhsiyat ka andaaza guftguu se hota hai
(Shams Ramzi)

Achchhi cheezein lagengi aur achchhi
Darmiyaan kuchh kharaab rakh diyaa karo
(Balraj Komal)

Na jaane tumne subah ka qasiida kaise likh liyaa
Yahaan to kal bhii raat thii, yahaan toh ab bhi raat hai
(Iqbal Ash'har)

Main us se door bhi jaaun toh kis tarah jaaun
Voh itr ban kar mere pairahan mein rehta hai
(Waseem Rashid)

Talvaar to kyaa merii nazar tak nahi uthi
Us shakhs ke bachchon ki taraf dekh liya tha

(Munawwar Rana)

Maine mana ki ye shab guzregi, magar kab guzregi
Maine mana ki sahar hogi, magar kab hogi

(Abdullah Kamal)

Our logo, designed by Priyanka Tampi

an artist blessed by the Almighty

A few moments back, I signed for the last time as the President of the Women Studies and Development Cell, Jesus and Mary College. Nostalgia. I was drafting the Annual Report of WSDC, to be published in the the JMC Annual Magazine (and I cannot remember its name). For those who do not know, WSDC has been my alter ego for the past two years in JMC. It has been that aspect of JMC, which I have been most intimately attached to. My friends call me a 
workaholic, and I reckon that is because I enjoy working like nothing else. And, its been WSDC, which has given ample of avenues to work in, to take initiatives in precisely the direction I have desired and which has not constrained me in any manner whatsoever. I have had a mad, at times even a rough time working, but on not less than thirty times in the past year, I have had a smug smile on my somnolent face, reflecting the satisfaction in my heart at having done something constructive during the day.


With a member strength of more than 180, the year ahead did seem an uphill journey, but the cooperation of each one of them (with, of course, few disappointing exceptions) made my tenure as the President a smooth, delightful and memorable experience. We functioned as a single, cohesive, well functioning, and a well intentioned unit, and managed to succeed at endeavours that did not seem viable at the time of their inception. We've had our little failures, but they have only served at making us understand and learn a bit more, and improve as we go ahead. Personally, as the President, I received a lot of love, affection, and respect from my juniors, but the most gratifying was when I received a note from one of my batchmates, Ancy Thomas, congratulating me for my work and calling WSDC my 'baby'- something I have nurtured in the past two years to make it reach to the level it is at present. Of course, I could not have done it alone; many names are responsible for it having journeyed successfully this year.The most important among them, I feel, is the preceding President of WSDC, Rashneet Kaur- the most dynamic leader I have known, and a woman who essayed her role with a poise and perfection which was very nearly inspirational.

A satisfied Core Team after successfully concluding the
Declamation Competition
From left- Riya (my most trusted), Namita(the silent worker),
Sharon (her creativity on the board at the back), myself, Ishani (my magazine head),
Priyanka (whom I cannot work without, simply)

I can go on and on about my society, my WSDC, almost my doppelganger, but I feel its not required. Enclosed below is the report I wrote, and although its painfully concise (enlisting only about six of our twenty endeavours), I guess it reflects enough let readers know that we are a society with purpose. And dedication. And sincerity. I wish I could write more, but for that, I will wait for my own annual report- a ten page document that talks exclusively about WSDC


The Women Studies and Development Cell is one of the six compulsory societies of Jesus and Mary College. Until last year, our society enrolled members only from the second and the third year, but from the academic year 2010-11, we enlarged our membership to include girls from the first year also in our society. With a vision that aims at creating more awareness and sensitivity among the youth on gender related issues, and a desire in our hearts at contributing our bit in improving the adverse and prejudiced conditions for the fairer sex, WSDC does not aim for the stars; in stead, it looks to promote simplistic, and realistic ideas and thoughts, all of which point in the direction of general welfare of womanhood. In each of our member, we look forward to a sincerity and an incorrigible urge towards doing something constructive for the society.  WSDC has always made its presence felt on the campus, our last year being exceptionally successful with a plethora of diverse events being organized by us, viz., talks, seminars, workshops, cultural programmes, debates, etc. We, at WSDC, have a reputation of putting a lot of heart in what we do, and being in a progressive girls' college only aids us in all our endeavors.

Launch of the Annual Report 2009-10 during the Orientation Ceremony,
held on 18th August, 2010

The year began for us with the ritualistic Orientation Ceremony, where all the members are inducted into the society, and the year ahead is planned. At the same event, we also launched our facebook page, to keep our members better apprised of all our activities and to promote discussions on matters of concern. The Orientation Ceremony was followed by many more events, aimed at sensitizing the college students about different issues like Honor Killings, Female Genital Mutilations, Cervical Cancer, Human Trafficking, Healthy Food Habits, Girl Child and about a dozen more topics which directly or indirectly affect our existence as a society. One of the first proud moments for us was when Mr. Shiv Khera, a renowned motivational speaker and author visited our campus to address a full capacity audience in the MPH. He spoke about the Value System in the Indian Society, and the meaningful role played by womenfolk in preserving and upholding our values. WSDC, to emphasize its dedication at fighting the most pernicious of evils prevailing in our society, invited Smt. Sreerupa Mitra Chaudhury, President, International Congress of Woman and the Chairperson, Committee for Review of National Policy on Women, Government of India, as the keynote speaker for a National Level Symposium on Contemporary Social Evils on 12th November 2010. The Symposium was a resounding success and the topics discussed, viz, Honor Killings, Human Trafficking and Prostitution were further taken up by our member students as the theme for the Annual WSDC project, prepared and printed under the guidance of Dr. Nivedita Giri, with Namita Joseph as the student head. The President of WSDC, Saumya Kulshreshtha, who also serves as the Campus Ambassador of Teach for India, conducted a placement talk for JMC students along with the recruitment officer of TFI.


Our Annual Cultural Festival, Jagriti '11, only into its second year, attracted massive participation from many colleges across Delhi University. Besides holding events like Folk Dance Competition, Painting Exhibition, Creative Writing etc, WSDC also launched its official logo, designed by Priyanka Tampi, head of the WSDC Creativity Team.  The logo, a simple yet attractive illustration, reads 'Being Me'- a tag line inspired from our Annual Magazine- "Being A Woman, Being Me!". Our magazine was very well received and lauded by staff and students alike in its first issue last year. It is now ready as a new and improved magazine for its second print to be released soon. To cater to the very contemporary concerns of keeping fit, WSDC organized a Wellness Check Up Camp where many girls received valuable tips on a healthy lifestyle and diet. We also conducted a talk of the upcoming concept of Stem Cell Research and a Registration Drive for stem cell donors as a follow up of the same. One of the novel steps in the past year was to invite a counselor, Ms. Shifa Haq, on biweekly visits to our college, with whom, girls can share their problems and seek appropriate advice. Besides this, we conducted a declamation competition, a field trip to Ma Dham- a widow ashram, workshops by NGOs including Smile Foundation, and GDs to promote dialogue on several issues.

The banner for Women's Day

 The year for us culminated with a huge celebration of womanhood on 8th March, 2011- the International Women's Day. Many eminent speakers, including Ms. Barkha Singh, Chairperson, Delhi Commission for Women, Ms. Meenakshi Lekhi, a dynamic lawyer, Ms. Rama Vaidyanathan, a prolific Bharatnatyam exponent, graced the occasion. The event started by a captivating dance performance by Radhika Kathal, member of WSDC and a disciple of Ms. Geeta Chandran, and, it ended with a soul stirring Odissi performance by Ms. Kavita Dwibedi, Director of Odissi Academy, New Delhi.

Ready to host the Women's Day-
In style!

WSDC has always received a lot of encouragement and motivation from the Principal of Jesus and Mary College, Sister Marina John who takes keen interest in all our activities and guides us for improving at each step we take. WSDC is blessed to have as its Convenors Dr. Alka Marwaha and Dr. Amita Tiwari, who have never said no to any initiative we wanted to undertake. They have been wholly encouraging, and since the very beginning of the year, they had high expectations from us, expectations which we have hopefully been able to fulfill. A big, heartfelt thank you to all the member of WSDC core team- Rosemary Lobo and Nikita Sailesh in particular, for tirelessly working behind the scenes to make every single event a huge success.It would be appropriate also to thank Rashneet Kaur, who served as the WSDC President last year, for doing wonderful work during her tenure and laying a foundation for us to build upon. And, lastly, none of our events in WSDC can be made possible without the support of the non teaching staff, who aid us in all conceivable manners and work very hard to make every event of every department and society possible and successful.


-Saumya Kulshreshtha
President,
Women Studies and Development Cell,
Jesus and Mary College

Core Team of 2009-10
Seated to my left is the graceful and dynamic ex-President, Rashneet Kaur,
 whom I succeeded as the President this year

I know it is a protracted response. By now, much of the ecstasy-laden-disbelief would have subsided. By now, most of us would have accepted that we are world champions. The dancing, singing and shouting would have been over. The inebriation after gulping down bottles after bottles of alcohol would have become history. The SMS chains would have broken. The tears would have dried. The demands of a National Holiday ended. Yes, many of us are still congratulating each other, but the instant laughter has metamorphosed into a more smug smile, which will linger on with a firm cognizance of the fact that we are number one! Our greatest national passion, Cricket, has triumphed! Our team has won, and made us all proud.

Yes, I am a little late, but I have to express my absolutely crazy delight at the Indian victory.

It was a perfect catharsis. The moment we won, my apartment building reverberated with a collective roar of jubilation. Everyone ran out. Gathered in the society park, and broke into impromptu jigs, even before a Dholi was summoned to make our celebrations more rhythmic. Even as everyone was shouting for me to come out, I remained firmly glued to my television set. We had won, but my favorite part was yet to come. No, not the Presentation Ceremony, but the celebrations on field. Players were crying on field, and I was crying with them. I had still not registered what had happened, but I knew it was a major event, and I knew about millions of us were happy. I was happy to be happy with them. My neighbourhood aunty remarked- 'This is the third Diwali I am witnessing!" She was so true. Crackers, and fireworks coruscating the sky. It was a national festival, only this time not bound to some religion. It was bigger. Much bigger.

It is for him that they claimed they did it- for the legend, the phenomenon, the God of Cricket- Tendulkar

It was sheer pleasure being treated to this site (gratitude to HT photo gallery for preserving such amazing moments). I was left pondering for a long time as to what would be crossing the mind of this great man. So much adulation, so much love, so much respect- a living, breathing idol. 

And even as I was thinking all of this, my eyes were searching for that face which has made me sit in front of the television set for hours to catch a single glimpse of his while India fielded. He is that cricketer, who made my teen years more cherishable. I had a mad crush, and it was, of course, him! So while my two best friends, in an innocent eighth standard classroom, somewhere around the 2003 world cup declared a war between Rahul Dravid and Sourav Ganguly, I would proclaim in all snobbishness that they both did not stand up anywhere in front of Zaheer Khan- my one and only love from the world of cricket. Even before I completed my sentence, the whole class would be staring at me incredulously. In fact, contemptuously. While in my heart I would feel a little sheepish, I would never allow the sheepishness to reflect on my face. With an air of conceit still accessorizing my face, I would then go on to defend my choice. I would offer 'expert' opinions of his bowling in that naive tongue of mine (most of it a repetition of what the commentators would have said extolling Zak). More than the bowling, I would rant on about his looks- his athletic physique, his intense eyes, his boy-next-door appeal. I has a pathetic teenage crush on him, something I in no way will ever regret. 

At that time, Zaheer was an upcoming talent, and understudy of the much revered Javagal Srinath. I was smitten by him the first match I saw in World Cup 2003- India versus Holland, which India, conveniently won. I had no understanding of the sport, so I could never understand why experts criticized him, whenever they did. For me, every ball of his was a wicket taking delivery. It was a celebration for him when he would be declared the Man of the Match (I remember two such occasions, one from WC 2003 itself). On his birthday, I would be silly happy. My fondness for him was so well known, that once, one of my friends gifted me a print out of his bio data, just because she wanted to make me happy. And happy I was. Very very happy! 

The naivity had gone now. The fondness has not. I still watch cricket matches to catch as many glimpses of his as I can. And I still have that eight year old copy of the bio data. It is torn along all folds, but, it is still very cherishable. 

So, as Kumar Sangakkara put India in to field first, I was obviously waiting for our bowling spearhead to give our team an awesome start in the Final. Honestly, I was scared. The memories of WC '03 Final were still ripe. Zaheer had to bury some very ugly ghosts from the past. He did it! And in style! He gave India the best start possible, made the Lankans starve for runs, and got the first breakthrough by taking Tharanga's wicket. He bowled three straight maidens in the Final, a feat, I believe, is unparalleled in any records. His last two overs did yield some 30 odd runs for the opposition, but for me, it is insignificant. From being plagued by persistent injuries, to losing his place in the team to upcoming stalwarts like Irfan Pathan, Zaheer has bounced back as India's pace spearhead, has been touted as second Wasim Akram, and regarded as a bowler with tact and adroitness to make India stand tall in front of the most intimidating batting oppositions. For me, this World Cup was about seeing him shine. Even when he has performed bad, I have never felt let down. But this time, what was special was, he did not let the country down. Every one sang his praises. Those praises were honey to my ears. Kudos Zaheer! You made us proud!

(A little photomontage of his best time frozen moments I could find on Google images)

"As dead dreams fall heavy on her  

she staggers out in tatters 

bruised breasts smell of raw flesh 

the soul weeps in the ashes 

of burnt apparels of dignity"

           -Dr. Rita Malhotra, Poet-Mathematician 

Life is laced with irony. Isn't it? What I till yesterday was touting as perhaps the best day of my life in JMC turned out the be the tragic last day of life of Radhika Tanwar, the now-much-hyped Ram Lal Anand student, killed by her own college mate. It was the International Women's Day yesterday, and being the flag bearer of as society which pledges to work for the rights and dignity of women in the college and society at large, I was celebrating it in gay abandon in the grandest auditorium one can come across in the University, isolated from the world. As the show moved on, I received a request on the stage to make an announcement cautioning the girls against moving to Satya Niketan, for some sort of a murder had taken place there. Having admonished the audience, I moved ahead with the programme, hell bent upon making it the best Women's Day Celebration JMC had seen ever. And so it became. And then, I got to know what a heinous crime had been committed less than a kilometer away from my college.

Let me get it straight here. I am NOT blogging because I feel threatened living in a city as 'unsafe' as Delhi. I have lived through my fair share of eve teasing incidents. Honestly put, they were gross, disturbing. I remember this rain washed day, I was walking down a road, short of money, walking in stead of taking a riskshaw, drenched head to toe. A black Santro stopped near me, and some veritably ruffian faces invited me to be seated with them in the car lest I fall ill because of the downpour. I was scared, but I reacted quick. Sought help from the nearest human I could spot, and fled in no time. Till date I wonder, if not for that man who helped me escape the place, what would have happened to me.

So, I started observing caution. Basic safety rules acquired paramount importance. Buses preferred to autos when during dusky hours, no opulent clothing when in bare view of public, moving with the crowd as much as possible, avoiding lonely spots, learning to trust no one. In simple language, I stopped trusting the public machinery for my safety, and this I say despite the fact that in the contemporary scenario of venom being spit on the government from all conceivable directions, I remain a believer in the state machinery. It is a convenient way of living. I hold trust in the state for protecting me, and I put in place all precautionary measures to protect myself.

Another, very clear and succinct reason behind this attitude of mine is a realization of the fact that if we really, truly want to bring about a change, any type of change, small or big, momentous or otherwise, we can do it much better by infiltrating the system, rather than standing up in arms against it. Our nationalist leaders recognized it during the freedom struggle. They called it 'wreck from within', I call it 'resurrect from within'. It is not idealistic, trust me. It is perhaps as pragmatic as it can get. Hurdles galore, I know and realize that, but historically, a path unto greatness has never been found which has not been laced with obstacles mammoth in size. Make a resolve today, and chase it unto the horizon, chase it till you win. If protests are your way of dealing with it, I support you with my wishes, not so much by my actions; but if protests are really your way of doing it, make sure you turn it into a Jessica Lall success(with a slightly twisted objective), and not one of those numerous Jantar Mantar protests which die down even before they are heard.

Am I allowed to give a very idealistic solution to this whole security mess that has been created? The practicability if this solution is nearly zero, but it's my blog, I am allowed even to be insane if it is my calling. There is a certain DCP Chhaya Sharma (refer article pasted below), who has turned one of the most crime prone zones in Delhi into a very safe and secure area, especially for females. I have had the good fortune of having shared a room with this firebrand woman IPS, the vanguard of the very successful models of safety employed in Delhi- the metropolis with the most shameful reputation with respect to civilian security. She looks purposeful, almost invariably, almost always. If possible, however bleak or miniscule this possibility, please get her to the South Delhi Campus, and give her a chance to set up a model for our campus, which is home to five of the best girls' colleges, and yet, has a very justified ignominious reputation as far as law and order is concerned.

I don't know how this sounds, but losing hope, is not my way. India is a country of great paradoxes. While we rant on about how the rural poor live in conditions of abject destitution, there is model I always like to keep in mind as I advance ahead with my bureaucratic ambitions. It is the model of a village called Hivre Bazar, which was almost on the brink of a collapse, with massive penury and resource scarcity leading to an exodus of locals into nearby villages. Today, that same village is home to 54 millionaires, with an infrastructure which can put even towns to shame, and all this change is the result of the efforts of a few enterprising young individuals, who sought the Constitutional path to revolutionize a society for which 'hope' was too far fetched a word. They were visionaries, the question is, how many of us can pursue a cause with as much dedication as they did. They took advantage of only two amendments to the Constitution, the 73rd and 74th, but more than anything else, it was their conscientiousness, pragmatic dynamism, and their WILL which caused the change. How many of us have that fire within us?

Our country is a great country, but it is in dire need of able, empowered and, as earlier stated, conscientious young people to cultivate an irrevocable feeling of belonging towards it. Doing something for the country should not be an onerous duty, but a sweet responsibility. I cannot live without hope. Yesterday, a candle was extinguished. Tomorrow we'll light a million more. And yes, while I do insinuate towards the candle light vigil organized tomorrow at Satya Niketan at one thirty, to which all of you are, of course, invited, what I actually mean is that if we actually, genuinely feel disturbed by the hideous crime committed, the flame should be lit within us, so that darker anti social elements, who come from among us are banished forever. Demanding security is a primary right, but try and do this without allowing Radhika Tanwar, a beloved daughter to now grieving parents, to be come a media doll used for lambasting aimlessly at the state mechanisms. As I said earlier, try and not wreck, but resurrect.

Woh afsaana jise anjaam tak laana na ho mumkin, usse ek khoobsurat mod dekar chhodna hi achchha ..

I read this in the paper a few days back. It was quoted by the Chief Metropolitan Magistrate Vinod Yadav, when he closed a major chapter in the Bofors scam saga by discharging Italian businessmen, Ottavio Quattrocchi. I read it again today, as the facebook status of one of my friends. In a eerie coincidence, it now perfectly applies to me. 


In the last two days, I have undergone a major transformation. My selfless attributes were my greatest pride. Now, a very selfish face stares at me each time I look into the mirror. Not more than a week ago, my very close friend from college was giving my a didactic lecture about how selfishness, in the contemporary context, had altered from being a vice to a virtue. I had hated her then and there for saying such a foolish thing. Today, I feel like a buffoon, for having been enraged at her. I have embraced those very selfish ideals. I gave up on a very, very essential part of my existence. I abandoned love, and along with it, I abandoned faith. 


My life, my smile, my tears, my love--all of this had stemmed from a person. The bond I shared with him was beautiful. Not perfect, but beautiful. But every beautiful thing does not have to be eternal. In fact, most beautiful things, especially if we add a dimension of perfection to them, are more ephemeral than something unpleasant. So today, the bond stands broken. Broken, not shattered. 


The bond has not shattered, but I have. It is today that I understand what a poet tried to convey when he spoke of silent shattering in some poem of my school English text books. I can totally feel it, understand it. I can today understand what it means to have your emotions burnt to smithereens. Understanding-it is not a gift I have received from many. Like many other good things in life, I have stopped hoping for it. The height of irony in terms of what just transpired as perhaps the most epochal happening of my life is that what went against me was my sanity. Heart in shreds. Feelings down to ashes. 


One good thing, however, remains. He remains. He lives. He breathes. As long as that happens, the miracle of my life stays alive. Faithless existence is senseless existence. The most crucial battle in my life is waiting to be won. Sans faith, it seems illogical to even start treading the path. I hope this time I receive cooperation. I hope to death that I don't fail this time. I know from where I'll draw strength. He knows from where I will draw strength. 


And while I try hard to keep my faith breathing, I will have my off days. There will be days I will look to hold someone culpable. There will be days I would not want to exonerate anyone for the wrong that happened with me, assuming these are days I am bent upon proving that wrong did happen to me. There will be days I would want to shout and cry loud and call out for comfort. There will be days I will crouch in one corner of my room, shedding tears, waiting for the coveted perfection to return to my life. I will try to be brave, but I cannot be brave enough to rule out the possibility of any of the above happening.


My best expressions are written. When I feel a need to reconnect, I will do it via writing. I always wanted to write something special for him. I wanted to document for him, more than my love, my fears associated with our bond. I began doing it yesterday. To Have, To Hold, To Love is a new blog I started to exclusively stay connected to him. It shall be my new address, whenever I am in distress. 


http://anirrevocablelove.blogspot.com/

(Even before you start reading, I request you to jump to the last paragraph and visit the link once. Please)

It still is a fantastic feeling, Ecstasy, disbelief may be. It does not happen often that you get to meet  your God figure in person. I met mine, today.

While I was still nascent, and hunting for avenues to carve out my career in, Journalism appeared to be the most natural, appealing and pragmatic choice that I  could have made. But then, doubts over the credibility of media and stability of this profession, coupled with the overtly protective (read: suffocating) atmosphere I enjoy at home drowned all my ambitions for pursuing my dream profession.

Nevertheless, this blog post is not to fret over lost dreams; dreams which I do not consider totally lost even now.  This post is to express angst which I derive out of perhaps the most overwhelming and memorable experience in life. Yes, it is ironical, and this irony, at a level, pains me. A small happening, but a higher point on the learning curve definitely.

 Journalism, while it still cast that charm on me, was synonymous with a few names- Rajdeep Sardesai, Barkha Dutt and of course, the person who rules my mind right now, Vikram Chandra. I remember having cried for about four hours when I had lost a remote opportunity to see Barkha Dutt, not even interact, but see her in person. I remember having seen Rajdeep Sardesai in my most prized dreams as a co-anchor to a show we hosted. And, as for Mr. Vikram Chandra, I only remember staring at him intently on the TV screen, with no fancy thoughts on my mind, but only a keep urge to observe and learn. By his diction, poise, ease, intelligence and presentation, he always simply bowled me over. Continuously following The Big Fight on NDTV instated him as my God figure ( though, admittedly in moments I was not already enraptured by the audacious Devil's Advocate, Karan Thapar)

So a few days back, when I was informed that HE is going to visit our campus to do a talk on Careers in Media and Broadcast Journalism, I just knew I HAD to organize this event, obviously in pursuit of pure selfish interest. I did. I remember, and I will always remember standing at the podium as Mr. Chandra entered the event venue and took his seat, taking my time to recover from his aura and then, summoning all the traces of confidence still left in my body to utter on the microphone- "Wasting no time, and with all my palpable enthusiasm, I introduce you to Mr. Vikram Chandra, a person who definitely needs no introductions". Even while uttering these lines, I was in disbelief over the fact that I am getting to act as the compere (for however little time) in the esteemed presence of Mr. Chandra.

Anyway, so the day went well. Predictably, we got a huge crowd. More than two fifty girls in the hall, and innumerable turned away because of space constraints. While addressing all of us on the need to get famous celebrities to endorse causes with social welfare, Mr. Chandra hit a particular sensitive nerve in my heart. It was then that I experience that angst mentioned earlier in this article. Through whatever he said Mr. Chandra made it evidently simple to realize even if you are to go ahead with the most noble motive aimed at the welfare of someone in need, you need to have in place strategies for selling the 'cause' effectively. And yesterday, when I set on to do something good, I ignored this aspect. I am regretful still.

It was yesterday that I undertook perhaps the most meaningful activity in all three years of my college life. An alumnus of our college, Sanjana Sahni, is diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma, more commonly known as blood cancer. After having undergone extensive therapies and experiencing relative respite from the heinous disease, Sanjana's cancer relapsed some time back. Now, she is virtually without hope. She needs a stem cell donor urgently because her life span is being cut short at an enormous pace. Upon request from an NGO working to create awareness about the Stem Cell therapies, and who have adopted Sanjana's case as their poster cause, we decided to run a Stem Cell Donor Registration Drive in our campus, preceded by talk entailing everything that a donor of stem cells needs to know.

I feel shameful to admit that the initial number of girls from my own college who showed interest to attend the workshop voluntarily was only about 16. Upon much coaxing, I could manage to take that number up to 52, and subsequently 73. As an organizer, I just cannot disappoint my guests. Giving them an audience becomes my responsibility. But really, I felt embarrassed that girls in my college have such busy lives that they could not spare fifteen minutes to attend this presentation and become a part of something good. Leave alone any flowery expectation, but our girls could not even come ahead to held someone in dire need, and found is okay to give me all sorts of ludicrous reasons as to why they need to leave the presentation midway. Basic courtesies are hard to find, I know, but basic human instincts? Have they become rare too?

Mr. Sanjeev Kulshreshtha, the person giving the presentation, mentioned somewhere a dichotomy between the West and India as far as compassion to unknown persons is concerned. Out of some 16 million registered stem cells donor in the world, only 5000 are Indians. And this after we rant on about the massive human capital potential which will change the face of India. While we ape the West, something we've been consistently accused of the the self-proclaimed-saintly generation preceding us, somehow we totally ignore imbibing the better parts which characterize a Westerner. The concept of family bonding still remains strong in our nation, but a feeling of belongingness to the community at large is fast dissipating. We do not feel we have a responsibility which is social in character, until the cause in question is something we're affected by closely back home. Out of the girls who willingly volunteered to be a part of this programme, a sizable number had some case of a terminal illness affected person at the back of their mind when they came to join us. Not surprising at all. Again, I feel pathetic while admitting, that the rest had merely been forced to sit there.

I can go on and on about what I am feeling, but having conducted the talk, now I am all pepped up about the Donor Registration Drive, scheduled to take place on 8th of March, 2011, in our campus. Through a non invasive procedure, sample of stem cells will be taken and analysed to see if they match Sanjana's need. It costs about $50 to conduct tests on stem cells of one person. Sanjivni and Dhatri Foundation, conducting this drive in our college, have agreed to bear the burden of this monetary obligation. But they, like many more organizations wanting to make a difference in someone's life battle a severe resource crunch.

It won't take much time. Anyone of you who manage to read my article till this point, please visit the website once. Read what Sanjana has to say about herself. It might move you. I am not urging you to proactively start supporting Sanjana's cause, but being lost in the economic riddles of the material existence we all lead, we do sometimes leave our goodness somewhere behind. It is always good to reclaim that goodness back. A story like that of Sanjana's might help you reclaim that goodness, and with luck, may be a conscience too.

http://savesanjana.org/aboutSanjana.html

By the way, did I mention, Sanjana is blessed with two beautiful twins?

For the past twenty years of my life, which is the whole of my life actually, I had made myself believe that I loathe colors. I still do, yes, especially the bright, opulent shades, specifically in the segment of clothing. I am definitely not a member of the gawsy brigade, those people who try to project offending cheerfulness through the clothes they wear. I like to live life in more sombre shades. I prefer to dress up in grays and dull blues. I even like my pictures in black and white, or at max, sepia.

So, when I put up this picture as the my blog's header sometime back, doubling up as my blogs identity, I was initially skeptical of my own decision. But then, the colors in this painting wielded their magic. I was literally stupefied, and left to gape at it in mute admiration. So, there it remained, adorning my blog, making it look pretty.

I often develop a child-like fondness for things. From a child's perspective, everything appears big, appears magnified. So is the case with me. The moment I become fond of something, I attach to it many superlatives which totally justify my predilection towards it. When this painting started hypnotysing me and its colors began coruscating in my dreams, I, besides extolling its beauty in, again, superlative terms, was living under the illusion that this is one-of-its-kind painting, and that I may never come across another like it. However, my myth was soon dispelled by the contemporary divine entity- Google- which has answers to all questions we ask, sometimes even those questions which we don't ask.

A few days back, I stumbled upon this picture. Purely by chance.

The style of painting seemed similar to the one on my blog. Even though I am no connoisseur of art forms of any kind, the ease with which the artist had played with colors seemed very familiar, identical even to the painting that had so far been ruling my mind. After probing a little more, with a few random keywords, on, of course, the monolith of all information, Google, I was able to trace the painter who painted both the above beauties. And, many more.

Leonid Afremov- A search by his name on Google images opened a whole world of unbelievable splashes of color in front of my eyes. For more than an hour, I just kept on staring at his different creations. Just looking at his painting made me happy. Many of them were similar. I guess this Belarusian painter has a penchant for painting boulevards, with couples walking down the road. His paintings have immense depth. I could imagine myself walking down the same boulevard with my love. Two of my most favorite paintings of this category (besides the one on my blog's header) are these.

As I look at these paintings, I can't help but once again marvel at the blend of colors in them. In the both these, what I especially like is the way the lamp light is softly illuminating the scene.

Besides painting long roads and multi hued trees lining them, Leonid Afremov also has a clear proclivity towards paintings couples. Couples, presumably in love, appear on most of his canvases. I should not use the word 'presumably' here. His couples are visibly in love, often, passionately in love. And this, is conveyed very elegantly in his paintings. Check out these two for example.

So this Valentines, because I have nothing better to do, I will allow this brilliant artist's grand creations to haunt me. Event though I adore the above two paintings, these are not exactly the ones I would like to see in my dreams. The ones, which actually transport me into a dream land are the ones which depict couples with more subtler shades of passion engulfing them. In fact, in those paintings, what is depicted in place of passion is togetherness- long enduring togetherness, the kind of companionship I could kill for.

The first painting is may be the kind of Valentine's date I would want for myself- a private time together, in each other's casual embrace, discussing a million things which make us perfect for each other, confessing and reconfessing our love and completely losing ourself to the beauty of the moment.

The second painting is titled "The Last Date", and hence, for comprehensible reasons, makes me feel sad. Love forms an indispensable part of my existence, and whenever love is wounded, I can't help but feel sad.

Anyway. Hats off to Leonid Afremov. I hope that someday I am able to buy at least one of his creations, because I have turned into a big, incorrigible admirer of his. For all the right reasons for sure.
(Thanks for making me fall in love with colors again)

"A gun is a reasonably good way of settling an argument but, unfortunately for his assassins, the posthumous Gandhi turned out to be as dangerous as the living one." -Ashish Nandy

I have never been an admirer of the much hailed Father of Our Nation, Mahatma Gandhi. It was my ignorance. I have always been more in touch with people who seek pleasure in denouncing the personality that Gandhi was, and who glorify his misgivings much above his contribution towards making India which we are proud of today. Of the many good things I derive out of my recently acquired habit of reading newspapers with a pious, unwavering dedication is feeding on knowledge which is dynamic in essence. I always knew that the Martyrs Day was celebrated on 30th of January, the day when the hand of the Mahatma which blessed our land with a sort of filial love was robbed of us, forever. However, it never happened that I understood the importance of this day. For that matter, many a 30th Januaries came and went- little did I even realize them passing by. Not for once did I stop to pay a brief homage to the soul of this great benefactor of India, whose ideals, though largely an anachronism for many around me, still haunt that part of my mind which is blindly patriotic- and proudly so.


I regret it. I regret never having understood Gandhi. Never having devoted time to it. It is quite riveting to read the venerable journalist, Karan Thapar insinuate towards the not so admirable facets of Gandhi's idealism through his column in one of India's leading daily. It is equally riveting to read a reply to Mr. Thapar's article in the same newspaper by Gandhi's grandson- Rajmohan Gandhi- a prolific scholar, a human rights activist, noted political figure, and the winner of the prestigious Biennial Award from the Indian History Congress in 2007 for his book A True Story of A Man, His People and An Empire, Gandhi's biography. And what was most fantastic while reading the two articles was a conspicuous realization of the fact that there was so much of history of my own land which I failed to connect to, despite having harbored loud ambitions of one day serving the country to the best of my capacities. Knowledge in this context is certainly not irrelevant, in fact, it is most imperative. The present system of education (encompassing the preparations for most governance related competitive examinations) invariably makes us a slave to facts; not for once endeavoring to give us enough time and space for understanding and developing ideologies and principles which we may regard as our own, and which remain a part of our system through every stage of life. A cornucopia of facts can only baffle us, while a cognizance and identification of the ideological path which we seek to tread on can certainly elevate us above our puerile self; aiding in the process of decision making and lending us that coveted mental clarity, without which, any discernment is hollow.


It was in an article in one of the many newspapers I follow that I came across information pertaining to a Fast Unto Death being organized at Jantar Mantar to register loud, but non violent protests against the high degree of corruption pervading our country, by the veterans of an organization called the Gandhian Satyagraha Brigade. This news piece stirred a now dormant part of my memory. A little more than a month ago, I had had the good fortune of meeting up with the vanguard of this long enduring movement against corruption and the honorary General Secretary of the GSB. It was a tryst by chance- but one, that continued to haunt me for long. And I promised myself that I would write about it, a promise that was submerged under a deluge of assignments, examinations and then placement stresses. So 'today' I feel is the perfect day for me race back to that day, and recapitulate, and record in words everything that is worth remembering from then.


Mr. Shambhu Dutt. A nonagenarian. A freedom fighter. A really young and energetic old man. An invitation to meet him came my way through Colonel Dharmadhikary, who works for Transparency International, the very same organization which has ranked India 87 on an index of corruption, in the derisive company of states like Iran. Colonel was a dapper old man, who made me want to listen to him once he started speaking. He requested me to take out time and visit the office of GSB, to meet a 95 year old young man, fighting against the most ugly form of contemporary social evils- Corruption- much in the Gandhian spirit. Colonel said that a dialogue with the young, concerned blood of the nation will infuse a lot of courage and enthusiasm in the heart of this freedom fighter. It was not an invitation I could deny. And so, on a cold winter morning, I set out with my friend Namit, to honor my commitment of meeting Mr. Shambhu Dutt, not knowing what to expect, and pondering even if it was worth undertaking the effort.


It was not a meeting. It was an experience. This I realized the moment I sat down across the table from this affable person in his late nineties, who gave me a very comprehensive peek into the post independence history of corruption in our nation. The medium of our conversation was the Colonial language- English- and the way he spoke his long monologues, I could only feel like a buffoon for sitting there, taking down notes under the table on his linguistics, rather than the content of his speech. He was an austere man, firmly dedicated to the vision of one day living in an India totally free of the hydra headed monster of corruption. Besides explaining to me their three demands from the government, viz., appointment of an effective Lokpal, confiscation of illegally acquired property and disqualification of candidates seeking to contest election who have a pending criminal case against them, he laced his talks with a lot of inspiring opinions and interesting anecdotes. He expressed his angst on the way the common man today has accepted corruption as way of life, and explained to me and Namit the top-down approach at combating corruption which their organization endorses. He stressed the need for the higher echelons of governance to be transparent, because corruption breeds from higher to lower levels. He gave us a lecture on the recalcitrant attitude of the government to go ahead with any concrete step that would help retard the monster of corruption which has already devoured much of the resources of our economy. He told us several other things which have, unfortunately slipped off my mind.


A lot of times while he was speaking, I could feel several miniscule tremors at various parts on my body, which, I later realized were very visible goosebumps. At other times while he spoke, I felt acute derision for myself when I contrasted my often bleak visions of my own future with this nonagenarian's bright, zealous and enthusiastic hopes from tomorrow. A flippant remark on the impossibility of him being able to celebrate his next birthday made my heart sink a little, but my heart sank a lot more when I could witness in documents the callousness of the Indian administration at administering its own subjects. 


Mr. Shambhu Dutt was a true Gandhian who went on reiterating that it was not possible to ever be a true Gandhian. His earlier name was Shambhu Dutt Sharma, but he renounced his surname in opposition to the caste based atrocities which are rampant in our country. I had never in my dreams imagined that I would ever hear from a freedom fighter himself what having fought in the famous Quit India Movement would have been like. He resigned from administrative services under the British Raj a day after Gandhiji was jailed in QIM. Quite promptly, he too was imprisoned. "Now when I reflect back on it Colonel, I feel it was a very wise thing to do. I would never have been entitled to my freedom fighter's pension had I not gone to jail- the only thing I ever did and was tagged a freedom fighter!"- he gently jests while looking at Colonel who was still accompanying us, in the concluding moments of our rendezvous. 


I smiled at myself, finished my tea, collected a daintily prepared envelope which was given to me as a souvenir from this meeting. While Namit gathered most of the attention because of his composed outlook when the monologues were still going on, I was happy I could make a lot of notes which surely added a great deal to the pool of knowledge I was desiring to create for myself. Colonel thanked us for taking out time and keeping our word. We thanked him back for giving us this experience. It was nothing formal- we both meant every word of gratitude we expressed. 


Upon returning, I sank back in my bed, and started rummaging through the contents of the envelop given to me. It had a lot of documents- letters, publications etc. At the beginning of one of the articles were mentioned the three basics which the Satyagrahis of the GSB swore by-

1. There is no room for untruth or violence in a Satyagraha.
2. In Satyagraha there is no enemy.
3. A Satyagrahi knows no defeat.

The last one sounded like a cool thing to inculcate in myself. So did the second, and may be the first too. 

Suddenly, Gandhi no longer seemed distant, or anachronistic. That night, upon reflecting, I could become a little more perceptive of his influence on the modern polity. The Gandhigiri propounded by Raj Kumar Hirani, no longer seemed only a cinematic concept, or at best, a gimmick. I am still to understand Gandhi, but so far, what I have heard of him sounds good. It sounds good enough to intrigue me into reading a lot more about him. For today, I tried reading about the Gandhian Satyagrahi Brigade on their official website. Along with the above mentioned three basics of a Satyagrahi, a quote by Gandhi adorned the first page of the website. I find it worth sharing.

Corruption will be out one day, however much one may try to conceal it, and the public can, as its right and duty, in every case of justifiable suspicion, call its servants to strict account, dismiss them, sue them in a law court or appoint an arbitrator or inspector to scrutinize their conduct, as it likes.

- Mahatma Gandhi

 (If you feel like, you can read more about this organization run by some really dynamic and young-at-heart concerned citizens of our society-http://gandhiansatyagrahabrigade.org/)