Saturday, 20 May 2017

May U be enlightened!

The year was 1884. It was a sultry summer evening in Calcutta, the Capital of British India . In a small North Calcutta locality called Simla, Navin, a young  man was dead drunk and rolling in the gutter. He had earned a fine reputation in this predominantly upwardly mobile middle class area  as a habitual drinker and offender. Those were the heydays of the British Raj. Being firm believers of Give and take policy, the Brits were taking  away India's national assets to England, and giving back  English education and value systems to India. Part of the value system was to inculcate among the Young Indians, utmost contempt for everything that was "Indian". Thus was born a young breed, called "Young India". Skeptical, Neither here-nor-there, these young college passouts , had taken to every conceivable Western ill like a fish takes to water. And some of them like Navin, had developed a special fascination for the Western Bottle. While they worked throughout the week, Saturday brought in festivities for them. They would start drinking from the late hours of Friday night, and frolic all through Saturday and Sunday. The fun and frolicking would usually end with the frolickers rolling all over in  muck of open sewers.Thus Saturday used to be called as "Oh What Great Fun is Saturday".

Navin had always been a sweet and sensitive  boy, extremely compassionate  and helpful. Son of wealthy parents, he would go out of his way to help his friends in financial distress. However his compassionate nature soon proved to be his undoing. A group of  hemp smokers and drunkards formed a  coterie around him.Slowly Navin was sucked into the whirlpool of addiction.His mother cried piteously, his father used the stick , but to no avail. Navin went from bad to worse, and then from worse to horrible. Those were the days of child marriages. Boys would be married off by 16, and girls by 12. Thinking that their wayward son might be reformed by marriage, Navin's parents quickly married him off to a pretty little girl.Unfortunately no marriage could help him out, the poor girl suffered a lot, eventually she returned to her father's house.  Navin kept rolling in the muck . He lost his job, his father threw him out of the house.

It was one of those Sunday's  when he was mildly drunk,   that he was accosted by one of his neighbor's. Ram Datta, a professor of Chemistry at the Calcutta University and a highly   respected gentleman  of the area, had always had a soft corner for Navin. He wanted to help out  Navin ,  but didnt quite understand how. Seeing Navin's condition, he asked him,"How’s it going with you my boy? Do you keep drinking all day? Don't you get something to eat with your drink?" Navin innocently replied, "Ram Dada(Elder Brother),  I just 
get a few salted grams with my drink, how can I afford something else?" Ram's eyes moistened a bit hearing this unpretentious answer. "Look Navin, do one thing. Today night we are having a great feast in our house in honour of a very respected guest. Why dont you come along too? I will serve you  Luchi(deep  fried bread) and Spicy Potato curry." "Really Ram Dada, is that true?", Navin was like a little boy in a toy museum, "Really. No one even talks to me now a days. Not even my parents. And you are inviting me to a feast of Luchi and Spicy Potato curry. Ram dada, I see you have not forgotten your little brother?"

As the day drew to an end ,  and the sun set, Navin felt a sense of restlessness. Through his drunken stupor, he felt as if another sunset had snatched away one more day of his life. While he lolled around the squalor in a semi-swine like state, the purposelessness of his life seemed to haunt him.He felt a deep void within him, a world weariness crept in out of nowhere. Slowly the last tinge of the day disappeared into the  dark bosom of the night. The little stars above , and the  street lights below lit up. Ram Datta's house was quite visible in the distance. It had an aura of festivities written all around it. Hackney carriages had started arriving there. High pitched kirtanas could be heard from the distance. Navin was woken  up from his drunken stupor by the sights and sound coming from Ram Dada's house.Ah, Luchi and Aloor Dum!! How I love it, Navin thought. He slowly got out from the gutter and trudged along to Ram Datta's house in an inebriated state. He smelled of muck, and people hurriedly ran away from him. Ram Dada stood at the gate of his house, and was welcoming one and all. From a distance he saw Navin, he quickly took him aside and pushed him in for a nice bath . Navin was a bit sober now.  He was quite hungry. Like a child he started pestering Ram for Luchi and Aloor Dum. 

"Wait , wait my boy.I will serve you. Now, let me receive the guests. You just rest a bit. Look , do one thing. There's religious singing and dancing going on in the central courtyard. Go and enjoy it" Though he was least inclined to do it, Navin couldnt disobey his host. He went to the courtyard. Though it was quite big, there was a huge crowd. A kirtan party was singing devotional songs, while a group of people was dancing to the tune of the song in a frenzied manner. At the centre of this circle  was a ordinary looking middle-aged man who was standing still. The crowd was looking at him with rapt attention, not even a breath seemed to be flowing in or out. Navin was perplexed. In order to gain a closer look at the man, he waded in through the crowd.  As soon as he took a closer look at the man, he was stupefied. There seemed to be a column of light emanating from his body.What effulgence. What divinity!! And what a serene and lovely face the man had .Navin had never seen a more beautiful face before. The man was standing dead still, like a painting. There was a bewitching smile on his lips, a smile which would capture the roughest of hearts. People around Navin started murmuring that the man was in Samadhi , the highest state of superconscious existence, where the border line between Man and God stands erased. Navin could  see that the bodily functions of the man had stopped. Someone went near him and tried putting his palms under the nostrils, but not a trace of breath could be found. There was a doctor in the group, the person checked for heartbeat, turned back to the amazed crowd and indicated that he couldnt find even a single beat. Navin's inebiration suddenly left him. He was shellshocked.How is this even remotely possible?  Is this man dead? But it cant be, all signs of life exist in him. How can a dead man emanate such majesty, such glory. Navin felt strangely drawn to this strange man. Who was he? Was he the honoured guest about whom Ram had been telling him. Navin asked the man standing next to him, "Who's this person?".The man looked at him as if he had asked a very silly question. "You have come here to see the Paramahamsa of Dakshineshwar, and you dont know who he is", the man replied. "Sorry, I am a drunkard and just came for the food. Not for any Paramahamsa". The man sneered at him and then replied, "His name is Shri Ramakrishna, popularly called as the Paramahamsa of Dakshineshwar(Dakshineshwar was then a small village near Calcutta). Some call him a great saint, some a devotee of Mother Kali, some call him the mad priest of Dakshineshwar, and a few, like Ram Babu call him as God come on earth. I guess you came for food, but the food arrangements are in honor of his visit."

There was something about the man, which made Navin forget his food. It was a strange attraction that seemed to draw him to this Paramahamsa of Dakshineshwar. The more he saw him, the more it seemed Navin would lose his heart to him. There was a strange palpable joy emanating from him and covering the whole place. Such joy, he seemed to become intoxicated without wine. Navin was overwhelmed. Slowly the Paramahamsa showed signs of return to external consciousness.There was a deep breath,  signs of life appeared as if a householder had come back to his house post a long vacation.He was murmuring something to himself, and looking at them all as if he was not sure how he came here. People started rushing to seek his blessings, it seemed there would be a stampede. A few of the devotees formed a protective human chain around him to stop this madness. Navin yearned to touch this childlike person, so radiant and  so divine. Like a man not in control of himself, Navin joined the crowd clamoring to touch his feet.He had to touch him, as if his redemption depended on it. He was repulsed by the human chain, but he was obstinate. He spotted a small gap and he barged in through that human wall.He barged in and the he was standing in front of this strange man. With a smile on his face, like a long lost friend, Ramakrishna beckoned him close.And like one mesmerized he went near him. Ramakrishna suddenly touched him on the crown of his head and said in a voice, that oozed sweetness, "May  you be enlightened".The touch of the strange man caused  an upheaval  within  Navin. It seemed as if he was drowning, drowning in an infinite ocean of effulgence. The world around him was being devoured by  waves of radiance,  the radiant form of Ramakrishna emerged out of this effulgence. Navin was now intoxicated again, but this intoxication was divine intoxication- far far stronger than the cheap ones he had tried before. In that intoxicated state, he started weeping profusely taking the name of God, he danced and sang in a strange spiritual mood.There were quite a few in that crowd  who had known him , and used to sneer at him. Seeing this sudden transformation, their eyes nearly popped out. Somebody brought this news to Ram, Ram came running to witness it first hand. "Hari Bol", "Hari Bol"."Take the name of the Lord" echoed throughout the world like the roar of waves crashing on the shore.Everyone was drowned in ineffable bliss. Ah, the worldly pleasures seemed so insipid before this. And in the centre of all this, stood the mad priest of Dakshineshwar, effulgent, radiant , his hands transformed in a shape which seemed to bless the  assembled devotees with boon and fearlessness.

Henceforth Navin's life became surreal. A sure change started coming over  him . He started detesting his old lifestyle, he would take the bottle to drink, but the luminous face of Ramakrishna would come before him,  the memory of that evening would overwhelm him. In disgust he gave up the bottle. Not that it was easy. He started frequenting Dakshineshwar , to the temple of Mother Kali, where lived this strange man , in a small room within the temple premises.He came  to have just one look at that divine form. Ah, how sweet it was. He dared not enter Ramakrishna's room and approach him, but looked and heard him from far and on the sly. But then oneday, as he was tiptoeing in and trying to hide behind a few others, Ramakrishna looked at him, and with a sweet smile called him out like one known through ages, "Why stand so far, come close my boy. Dont worry Navin Chandra, it will all be great with you. Your transformation will be a wonder to  men now and in the future, your story will be read and told in far off places. Now come and sit near me.May my Divine Mother always keep you in bliss".












Friday, 9 December 2016

Shiva!!

Shiva
Perchance in the solitude of the lofty Western Ghats,
A Traveller am i,

Travelling through the Rolling hills and  the green glades and the sylvan streams.



From this mountain to the next, i find this land permeated by Shiva – The Eternal Being, The Ancient One.

Amidst the Majestic peaks, Adorned with Shiva temples, Like the Human Soul adorned with the presence of the Cosmic Lord!

The morning sun, shedding its Golden light upon the mountains,
Like the Divine Mother Gouri- She, whose complexion is like Molten Gold, Embracing the Blissful Shankara in an eternal embrace – The Cosmic Entwining of Purusha and Prakriti, In the  vastness of this land.

The Green Sahyadris greeting my eyes wherever i look, i am reminded of the Virat Purusha – The cosmic form of Shiva.

He, who is Everywhere and in Everything,His three eyes- The Sun, the Moon and the Fire.
The one without a second, The Summum- Bonum of this and  million other parallel universes.

And in the serenity of this setting, amidst pitch-deep silence, where silence covers silence, bubbles forth a voice from the depths of my soul-“I AM”.



“I AM” –The sound of the Primordial EGO.
Reassuring Me “I WAS”, “I AM”, “I WILL BE” - No matter how many deaths come over this puny body.

Verily This “I” have i  identified with “SHIVA”. And This “I AM” has finally melted into “Shivoham”.

“I AM SHIVA”, Lord You in Me, I in You, I have become  You!!



Sunday, 6 September 2015

The Perfect Man!!

"I was wondering, if ever there was a man, who was perfect in all respects, endowed with the best qualities of head and heart that Your Father in Heaven, the Creator, Brahma had created". The speaker of these  profound words was a man well into the  sunset years of his life, a deep and venerable man, a great Rishi , who had been a dacoit at some point of life, and who had transformed himself into one of the greatest sages of all time by the power of Chanting of  God's name. He was  in the august company of another  ageless peerless Rishi, a Rishi who though much much older , still looked as if was in the prime of his Youth, a Rishi who was born out of the mind of  Brahma, the Creator,  at the dawn of creation . Thus begins  the enchanting dialogue between Maharshi(The Great Rishi) Valmiki and Devarshi(Celestial Rishi)Narada , and what do they converse....They converse  about the PERFECT MAN ..The Man, whose story would be immortal as long as the Mountains stood in their deep meditation, and the rivers flowed singing myriad tunes to meet their  Lover, the Mahasamudra - The Great Ocean)..they converse in a  world which was much younger and much less corrupted than we live, during the Treta Yuga.


"What is this perfection you speak of, What are these Qualities that you speak of, tell me those qualities, and let me see if I can tell you if  ever  there was such a man with all these qualities"....Devarshi Narad replied.

"Ok, so its this : Integrity, Bravery, Righteousness, gratitude, Truthfullness, dedication to ones principles, character without blemish, concern for all living beings, learning,skill, beauty, a pleasing appearance, courage, radiance, ability to keep anger under control,perfect control, absolute lack of jealousy at all times, undaunted heroism which can frighten even the Celestials", Valmiki , then added , "Too big a list, and certainly impossible to find in a mere mortal man".

Narada didnt reply immediately, he hummed onto to the strings of his vina, as if lost in a deep reverie. Then , slowly coming out of that meditative stillness, he draws Valmiki near to him, as if he wanted to say a Deep Secret... "Oh Valmiki, indeed in this very age, was such a man born, a man who has erased the thin Border between the Divine and the Human..He is God come  down as Man, and also as Man who has elevated himself unto the beatitude of God".... Valmiki, was too stunned for a moment  to even question about the identity of this man, finally gathering the courage of ages, he asked, "And who is this man"..."Rama, The son of The Great Emperor Dasharath, the Prince of Ayodhya"...Narada quipped.


Much time has elapsed after that conversation, Much water has flown down the River Tamasa, along whose bank  Valmiki and Narada had this fascinating conversation. The present age , has different standards of gauging perfection, rather the bylines of our age read perfection as "Nobody is perfect, I am nobody"...Having been born and brought up in a land which has revered Michael Madhusudhan Dutta as one of the founding fathers of Bengali Renessaince, and as an extension have eulogised his magnum opus Meghnad Bodh Kabbyo(The slaying of Meghnad), I had all along heard glorifying accounts of Indrajeet and his father Ravana, and demeaning description of Rama .. Indrajeet was the brave one(although he fought from a thick cover of clouds using sorcery and Maya) and Rama the despicable coward(The prince who fought barefoot , on the ground without even a chariot, fighting for the cause of his abducted wife).  Popular  Urban Lore in Bengal,and sadly now even India, has potrayed Ravana as a noble, large hearted Dravidian  king, who abducted someone's wife, only to avenge the humiliation of his little sister at the Hands of arrogant Aryan princes, and who  treated the abductee with intense honour and compassion...Why then did our ancients portray Ram as none else other than the Supreme Godhead , the Paramatman of the Yogis, the Brahman of the Advaitins, the Ishwara of the Bhaktas.

Lets do some story reading now, leaving aside all Theorizing. After all why has this Man been revered by generations of humanity from India to Sumatra/Bali?


Rama the Compassionate : KarunaSagar(Ocean of Mercy) :

The great war in Lanka was about to start. Rama, the xiled prince of Ayodhya had assembled a rag tag army of monkeys and bears, built a rocky bridge across the ocean and crossed into Lanka, the very same Lanka, where not even the wind moved without the permission of the Great Ravana- The one who made the worlds cry out of fear. Ravana was stupefied, he had ignored his enemy as that of a few monkeys led by a princeling. He sent  his spies to get every available intelligence about the enemy. The spies dressed up as monkeys sneaked into the Monkey camp. They were happily doing their recee, covert operation whatever U say, when they were caught by Vibishana, Ravana's  disowned brother.The monkeys , the wild folks of the forest, quick to come to blows didnt let this opportunity pass.  The spies were beaten up, tied to  a flag pole, and were about to be executed. However Rama interceded. Leave them alone, he said. Let them go through our rank and file, let them see all that they have to see, and hear all that they have to hear. Then let them run away from here. Go my friends, go back to your King  and Report all that you have to, and also tell him, that even if he were to put a ocean of Stars between himself and me, yet nothing will be able to save him from me. So said the Lord of an army which was, atleast resource wise , extremely disproportionate  to one of the mightiest armies of that age.


It was the aftermath of the Great war between Rama and Ravana. Lanka was vanquished. Ravana, the terror of the three worlds was gone. The devas , came down from their celestial world , and out of deep gratitude offered Rama any boon that he desired, absolutely anything. The Prince of light could have the riches of heaven if he desired, the portals of Heavens were open  for him. Not only did Rama not  ask for anything for him, he asked the gods to bring back to life those numerous monkeys and  bears  who had died fighting for him. The thought of their wives  wailing and their children orphaned, or their aged parents left at the mercy of fortitude  sent shivers of pain in him  even before  the start of this war.
The Devas were only too happy to oblige, they got back the  Vanaras to life , and also to oblige Rama they blessed them that wherever the Vanaras stay, they will never face shortage of  Fresh Water and Delicious Fruits.

Such was the greatness of Rama, whatever He did, was always for the good of many, for the welfare of many. 

Rama : The Epitome of Truth :

Even now, when we wish to allude to truthfulness, we refer to Rama . The Prince, who joyfully cast aside his claims to a Kingdom and embraced the life of a wandering hermit just to uphold the Truth. Just to ensure that his father didn't have to become untruthful by being overpowered by his great love for his Son. Well, the story is so common, that I wouldn't  write it down again.


Rama : The equanimous :


Equanimity is a quality rarely seen in an individual.  Gusts of joy and misery sway most of us dangerously, thus rendering us at the mercy of divergent emotions. In the life of Rama, we find an inspiration to be  free from these vissictitudes of Life. Rama has been described by the Adi Kavi(Original poet) Valmiki as "Sada Prasannam"..Always Blissful, with a joyous face. 

It was a momentous occasion in Rama's life. He had been declared as Crown prince of Ayodhya, his coronation was  just round the corner. Everybody was rapturous with Joy. However Rama, was his usual self, not a trace of   super-excitedness was visible in him. People just couldnt make out seeing him that something remarkable had happened.The scene shifts in the very next day. Message pours in that under pressure to keep his word to his second Queen, King Dasharath has agreed to Crown her son Bharata as the crown prince and Banish Rama  to exile for fourteen long years. While the entire kingdon was weeping and wailing at this news, Rama was still "Prasanna Vadanam", there was no change in the joyfulness in his face. He was as unaffected by this news, as he was by the news of his coronation.  And he didnt have  even a word of regret; nor did he play up the victim. Rather , he was excited at this God given opportunity to spend fourteen long years in the company of sages and enjoy the wild beauty of nature.


Rama : The Selfless 

The war had ended, and so had the 14 long years of exile stipulated for Rama . A  victorious Rama was returning to Ayodhya, in order to honour his promise to his Little Brother Bharata, who meant  more than his life to him. Bharata, who was as per Kaikeyi's condition to be crowned prince of Ayodhya, while Rama spent his time in the jungle, was leading a life of a hermit, while he ruled Ayodhya from a small village called Nandigram  as the regent of Rama. Such was his Love  and dedication for Rama. The lure of Power and wealth could never affect an iota the glory and greatness of this Great Soul. When the exile ended, Rama remembered that Bharata had told him at the beginning of his exile, "All these 14 years, I will serve as your regent and  administer Ayodhya, while your Sandals will actually rule over it. But at the end of 14 years, if you delay for even a day to return and relieve me of this burden, I will give up my life". As Rama came near Ayodhya, he made a halt at the hermitage of a great Rishi called Vasistha.While the others enjoyed at the hermitage , at the August Spiritual presence of this great  sage, Rama called aside Hanuman, and asked him to travel to Nandigram incognito and in disguise and meet Bharata. Hanuman was to convey to Bharata the return of Rama. He  was to discreetly notice if any change came over Bharata at this news, if he let out even the slightest sign of disappointment. If that happened, Rama would immediately return to the jungle and spend his remaining days in the Blissful union of God and Nature; he would be more than Happy if his brother wanted to enjoy the kingdom.  

Want to know how the story goes , how Bharata responded. When he got to know of this news, not only was there  no disappointment in him, he went mad with joy..He literally smothered Hanuman with kisses. :) In this age, where we see two brothers fighting with each other for the control of a Business empire, such selfless love will be like a Light House beaming inspiration for ages to come.

Rama : The Unshakable One

Ayodhya had been plunged into an ocean of sorrow because of the foolishness of one woman; Driven to smite by the ill machinations of her servant Manthara, queen Kaikeyi had been succesful in banishing Rama .Sita and Lakhsmana to the forest for fourteen years, while securing the Royal  throne for her son Bharata. The aged king Dasharata had died of a broken heart, taking the name of his beloved son Rama.

Elated and exuberant at her complete victory, Kaikeyi now waited impatiently  for the return of her son Bharata, who unaware of this great tragedy , was spending His days at the kingdom of His maternal grandfather in far off Kekaya. On return , and after comprehending the enormity of what had happened, the Great Bharata felt like a mighty tree which had been chopped off with massive blows. His rage towards His mother was like the great fire of Pralaya that consumes entire creation. Not only did He not reject the throne, He amassed his entire army, and placing the Royal Guru  Vasistha at the head of the retinue, along with the Queens of Dasharath and the citizenry of Ayodhya ,  along with His brother Shatrughna journeyed towards the Pristine forests of Chitrakuta, where Rama had set up His Hermitage.

Arriving there, Bharata fell at the feet of His brother with tears in His eyes like a forlorn child jumps to the lap of his mother . Rama took Bharata onto His lap and kissed His forehead, exactly like a Mother. The reunion of the four brothers was a sight for even the celestials to witness , such love, devotion, respect and selfleness was lacking even in the Devloka. After the initial reunion, the sharing of the heart breaking news of the death of their Father, the completion of the last rites for the deceased emperor, now the work for which Bharata and His retinue had come this far commenced. Bharata made an impassionate speech before all to Rama goading Him to return to Ayodhya. Every nuance of debate, logic , Dharma was put forward by the Great one to Rama. But all these were of no avail. Rama had counter arguments for everything that was said to Him. he was as great a warrior as He was a debater, He wielded the Celestial weapons with as great ease, as He did arguments and counter arguments. Bharata now tried a different approach, He reasoned with Rama, "This kingdom was given to me for the satisfaction of my mother. I am bestowing it back on you. Enjoy it without any obstacles.Like a dyke bursts under pressure by the great surge of waters during the rainy season, this vast kingdom cannot be sustained by any one except yourself.". Rama was now overcome by emotion witnessing this pure selfless love of His brother , but He was a Lord of His senses. After all Dharma was supreme to Him. What He said at that day, remains a ready reckoner for us all, "In a mighty ocean, two pieces of logs meet one another, float together and in due course get separated. In the same way wives, sons, relatives and riches remain together for some time and thereafter get separated. Their separation is certain. Thus O best of men, having seen the auspicious life of our father Dasharatha and his conduct, you also stick to your own duty.You will go back to Ayodhya, I will enter the Dandaka forest accompanied only by Sita and Lakshmana ".

The arguments went on and on, finally when Bharata saw that he was not able to make Rama change His mind, He drew His ultimate weapon, He pleaded with their Guru and the Royal preceptor Mahrishi Vashista, the sage who was worshipped even by the devas to intervene. The great Vasistha, who till now had been following with great pride the arguments and counter arguments of these two favourite disciples of his , now intervened. In measured tones, he told Rama that every Man has three preceptors, His parents and his Guru. Of these three the Guru is the greatest, because although the parents give birth and bring up the child, the Guru imparts wisdom, which ultimately helps a man cross the ocean of Samsara.  Thus it was Rama's Dharma to accede to his request, and return to Ayodhya for the sake of His aged mothers, as also for the citizenry which felt like an orphaned child at His exile. But here also Rama proved to be of a different mettle altogether. Although He had always worshipped His Guru like divinity itself, He was Unshakable in His resolve to stand by the promise He had made to His father, and in a nuanced tone, He said that to Vasistha. 

 Bharata , who now understood that Rama wouldn't return  to Ayodhya,instead  took the sandals of Rama , anointed them as the emperor of Ayodhya and returned back to His Kingdom. Like Rama , He also started living like an ascetic in a small village near Ayodhya, from where He ruled the glorious Ayodhya as Rama's agent. Even He was unshakable in execution of His Dharma. 

Well it has been said of Rama,"Vajradapi Kathorani,Mriduni Kusumadapi". "Firmer than the thunderbolt, softer than a flower". The Life of Rama shows us that a person must stick to His Dharma, the ideals which define her/him , even if the whole world tries to pull her/him away from it. Not even the gods in heaven should be able to deviate us from it. It is only the relentless pursuit of our Dharma, without compromise that  makes a man a World Mover.

Rama - The Valiant

It was the 14th and final year of exile of the Kosala Princes. Shri Ram ,along with his wife  Devi Sita who followed him faithfully in weal and in woe, just as the star Rohini always follows the moon, and His dedicated brother Laxman,  were spending their time peacefully at their serene forest  hermitage of Panchavati, on the banks of the pristine River Godavari. The river was surrounded   by trees with flowers in bloom, filled with flocks of swans, ducks and ruddy geese. It was a veritable piece of paradise.

One day, at this abode of peace  and serenity arrived the evil Shurpanakha , the sharp nailed one, the Sister of the Terrible  Rakshasa King Ravana who was the scourge of the three worlds and who  made even the Devas shiver in fear in their high heavens. Shurpanakha was carried away by the unearthly beauty of the two Kosala Brothers, and decided to have the elder one as her husband at any cost. However all her persuasion were in vain,  and as revenge, she rushed to harm  Devi Sita. Quick as thought, Laxman cut off her nose, and chased her away.

 Roaring with anger and pain , her heinous  fiendish form washed with blood sprouting from her nose, she arrived at Janasthana, a Forest city near Panchavati, which served as an outpost for Ravana. Khara, and Dushana, the two brothers of Ravana , ruled from this area. Seeing his sister's fate , Khara burst out in anger. He sent fourteen ferocious Rakshashas, armed to the teeth to avenge this injury and insult. The Rakshasas arrived with mighty battle cries, but once they faced the effulgent Rama in battle, they were annihilated into ashes in the wink of an eye. Shurpanakha who had led these wicked ones to Rama, like delusion leads a man to destruction,  flew back to Khara and Dushana desperately screaming and shedding tears. Taunting her two brothers and accusing them of cowardice and unmanliness, she provoked the two dreadful Rakshasas to take the battle front themselves.  Thus onwards marched these two ill fated brothers with Fourteen Thousand Rakshasa soldiers to destroy the Princes of Light .  The fourteen thousand demons loyal to the wishes of Khara, took in their hands, maces, piercing weapons, spears, sharp axes used in battle, swords, wheels, splinters, iron clubs, powerful missiles, dreadful iron bars of giant size, bows made of bamboo, clubs and frightening weapons like thunderbolt  and departed from Janasthana.Ill Omens portening advent of great destruction appeared everywhere. Rama who  was an adept in the lore of such signs, understood the grave danger that was on its way, and asked Laxamana to take shelter along with Sita, in an inaccesible mountain cave.

 Now Rama stood facing the massive army of demons, like the Sun faces the deepest darkness. He was splendour personified. The demons, under the leadership of Karana and Dusana, resembling ominous clouds, sent down streams of arrows on Rama just like clouds downpour on mountains. Wounded all over the body, bleeding through the wounds caused by weapons, Rama looked like the evening Sun covered with clouds. The gentle Rama of pleasing looks, was now  like the Kalagni, the great fire at the end of times , which consumes all creation. From Rama's bow bent into a cirle, countless fierce arrows able to take the lives of demons were released. Each arrow was like the noose of the god of Death, the great Yama. Within seconds a whole host of Rakshashas were dead. Just as a forest fire reduces to ashes even the deepest and darkest jungles, so also did Rama, raze down the army of the Nischaras, the ones who thrive in the dark. The helpless Rakshasas rushed to Dusana for succour and refuge. Dusana rushed towards Rama with his host of soldiers, like a firefly dives towards the fire and its eventual death. He covered Rama with a barrage of arrows, like a mountain being hit by Thunderstrikes. But Rama was unfazed. Golden feathered arrows from His bows, cut assunder the bow of the demon, his horses and charioteer was killed by Rama, Dusanas chest was pierced with a set of three arrows,his arms were cleaved off by few more arrows. Dusana fell dead on the ground like a mighty tree, his commanders and followers tried to avenge his death and they met with the same fate. Rama continued the carnage till all that remained of the fourteen thousand were Khara and his commander in chief Trisiras, the three headed one. The devas in heaven watched this super human display of strength with wonder and joy. Trisiras came to face Rama with much fanfare, only to meet the same tragic end as Dusana.  His three heads were hewed away by mighty arrows from Rama’s great bow.

 when he saw Dusana and Trisira killed, Khara was overtaken by fear at the prowess of Rama.He drew his strong bowstring in anger and released the bloodhungry arrows, which appeared like venomous snakes. Rama , Undaunted and unafraid of this mighty demon , also released sharp arrows from the Vaishnava Dhanusha, the great bow of Vishnu given to Him by the Great sage Agastya .He covered the directions by sharp arrows, Rama and Khara now fought like a lion and an elephant. However it was not long before, Rama with thirteen mighty arrows, broke the yoke of Khara's chariot, killed his horses and  charioteer and  splintered the bows and arrows of Khara. Helpless like an infant, Khara now stood on the ground with only a mace. He hurled the mighty mace at Rama, who destroyed it without any effort, and with a slight smile on His handsome face. Sensing that the end of the demon had to be accomplished without any further delay, the effulgent Rama released a barrage of arrows at Khara. Like Rudra, who burnt Kama deva, the mighty arrows reduced to  ashes the invincible Khara, the terror of Danadakaranya, predator of Rishis and holy men of this forest.

 With Khara and Dusana dead, and the hoardes of evil vanquished, all creation rejoiced. The Devas of heaven, and the great sages rained showers of flowers on this brilliant jewel of Raghu clan."Oh, what a great deed has this son of Dasharatha achieved", they proclaimed. The divine bards sang songs of glory about this  Greatest of all Kshatriyas. In the mean time, heroic Lakshmana accompanied by Sita came out of the mountain cave happily and entered the hermitage. Then victorious Rama having been worshipped by the seers and also by Lakshmana entered the hermitage. Sita, the daughter of Janak, whose face resembled the moon , out of joy and pride for Her husband, embraced Him again and again. It was indeed a very happy ending to the great danger that they had all faced. 

 There are times when all of us face evil and danger. It is in times of danger, that we must  bravely stand and face it, we must be valiant. The life of Lord Ram shows us, to  resist evil, face it, be valiant in the face of it. Else , like the Rishis of Danadakaranya, society has to be a sacrificial lamb to evil. Our ancestors believed in nurturing brave men and women, who were honed to fight back and resist evil. The history of India, has been the History of standing up valiantly to hordes of barbaric invaders and oppressors. This is the reason why, India  has continued to retain its original civilizational space, even though many other civilizations fell down and were completely destroyed. 

 May the Valiant  Ramchandra, wearing a tree bark as His dress, with His hair matted, and with mighty bows and arrows in His long arms, resembling the sun when  against the army of evil, inspire us to stand up with pride and glory against any evil that lurks for our Country and Civilization.


Maryada Purushottam Ram - The Embodiment of Dignity


The great war of Lanka had come to a shocking end. Ravana, the lord of the three worlds, the Rakshasa whose very name made all creation tremble in fear, the Emperor who had the boon of invincibility from the creator Brahma, was killed by a mere mortal - Rama of Ayodhya.  All creation basked in joy and relief, Jai Jai , went out the cheers of victory for Rama from the Devas in heaven. The body of Ravana, pierced by the Bramhastra released by Rama, lay couched in dust , still aglow with the brilliance that the Rakshasa was. 

Seeing his valiant brother lying thus on the field, Vibhishana, who till now had despised his evil brother, was overcome with grief and sorrow. "Why are you lying thus on the field, O Noble one, You who had the loftiest of beds and the most exquisite of silks as its cover to put you to rest? Why does your long arms, which are bedecked with armlets, lie motionless? Your Crown, which was effulgent like the sun has been knocked down.
Oh valiant one, all your accomplishments have come to naught because of your arrogance and insatiable lust. Had I not warned you earlier of this fate , and yet you chose to ignore me. The Trail of your arrogance has claimed a whole host of great ones : Prahasta, Kumbhakarna, Atiratha, Narantaka, Aksha Kumar to name just a few." Vibhisana remembered the old times, of his brother who was like a doting father to him, who had a whole host of good qualities , and who unfortunately had ruined all of it due to the arrogance of power and the cheapness of looking upon women as objects to satiate his lust. Vibhisana remembered the countless women Ravana had violated, of the  curse of the divine Rishika Vedavati, who violated by Ravana had cursed him of destruction. The scenes of yore flitted through his mind, he remembered that fateful day when Ravana abducted Sita and brought Her to his citadel of Lanka . Vibhisana  had entreated him to return back Sita to Rama with respect  and seek Her forgiveness. He had warned him , that Sita was all destroying time, Sita was his death, in the guise of a beautiful woman. All that he had got from Ravana in lieu of this sage counsel was ignomity and banishment from Lanka itself. His emotions now took a surge like a river in flood, his laments continued unabated, " With this great hero lying lifeless on the ground, an incarnation of virtue has left us for ever. It seems to me that the sun has fallen on the earth, the moon gobbled by eternal darkness and the fire extinguished. Ah what a tragedy has befallen us. Ah you look like a mighty elephant in rut, lying on the ground, mangled by a lion in the form of Rama. With Rakshasas for its tail, hump and horns; ficklensess for its ears and eyes, the mighty bull in the form of Ravana , the greatest of all Rakshasas, has been felled by Rama, the tiger among all humans".

Rama, who had been hearing this incessant , heart wrenching lament of Vibhishana, was moved by compassion for this sage of a  man. In a voice as gentle and compassionate as the nectar that the moon bestows, the prince of light spoke thus , "Ravana didnt fall in battle without making supreme effort, oh what gallantness he displayed; endowed with terrible prowess; he displayed zeal and enthusiasm of the most extraordinary type ; he remained confident all throughout and fell fighting as befits a great warrior. My friend, don't grieve for such an exalted person, who remained steadfast to his dharma as a King, who was highly learned, and feared by even the King of devas Indra. Even in the past, none has been ever exclusively victorious in battle; a mighty warrior will either get killed by his adversaries, or kill them. Thus has the shastras proclaimed ; don't grieve for a Kshatriya who has died not due to old age or disease , lying helplessly in his bed, but in the din of battle, fighting fearlessly. So oh Vibhishana , be you free from all grief and do that which is appropriate given the current circumstances."  The kindly words and the presence of the person who spoke these words had its desired effect on the Noble Rakshasa. His heart was soothed, and clarity returned to his mind. Recounting the greatness of his just departed brother he said, "My brother who had never been conquered in battle even by the devas, was defeated by you. He was a Brahmin of the highest order, always maintaining a sacrificial fire.  No one returned empty handed from his palace, he was gracious to his servants and dependents. He always kept a sacrificial fire, was a master of the Vedas , performed great austerities. For such a man as him, I wish to conduct, with your blessings ,  the rituals that are needed for a smooth passage to heaven". Rama, the epitome of graciousness and dignity , spoke with love and tenderness to this Jewel of the Rakshasa dynasty, " All hostilities end with death, our purpose has been accomplished. Ravana is as much a brother to me now, as he was to you. Please complete his funeral with due respect". 


The greatness of a human being  is demonstrated by how she/he treats her/his subordinates and a fallen enemy. The Indian army, which is regarded as one of the most professional and valiant forces of the world, maintains a high level of dignity in its dealing with even the enemy forces. During the Kargil war, the Indian army used to recover lot of dead bodies of Pakistani soldiers, and request the Pakistani side to take them back. However, the Pakistani side desisted from doing so. It was the Indian army which gave them a fitting burial, accompanied by the customary Islamic prayers. Dignity even in Enmity, this seems to be a buzzword for our armed forces. In this regard, our armed forces are carrying on the Legacy of Lord Rama. No wonder, that the war cry of the Indian Army regiment, the 8 Rajputana Rifles is "Raja Ramchandra Ki Jai" which translates to Glory be to the great King Ramachandra. No wonder our armed forces are the glory of our nation, and inspire us with high standards of a "Moral Force".

May the great Son of Dasharatha, who was so gracious and dignified, that even His enemies couldn't but help  glorify  Him, grant all of us the nobility of character to lead an exalted dignified life in our personal as well as public dealings.














The Ramayan lists out many many qualities that make Rama the Ideal Man, The Perfect Human Being. Rama is a beloved friend, a darling and doting son, a Romantic Husband, and an Ideal King. He is divine, yet intensely human. The Life of Rama dissolves the barrier between Divinity and Humanity. He is indeed God who came down as Man, and Man who became God. Generations of humanity have been saved from the bondage of worldliness by chanting HIS divine name. Everytime HIS story has been sung, people have lived their lives with HIM. they have seen HIM Love, they have seen HIM suffer. They have seen HIM destroy evil, and they have seen HIM cry at the abduction  of HIS   wife.  This story has been repeated in various tongues, from Sanskrit, to Hindi, to Urdu and even Persian.

Let me end this story with a Quote on Rama from Swami Vivekananda, the Spiritual Ideal of this age "Rama, the ancient idol of the heroic ages, the embodiment of truth, of morality, the ideal son, the ideal husband, the ideal father, and, above all, the ideal ALL, the ideal king, this Rama has been presented before us by the great saint Valmiki."

               "Namami Ramam, Raghuvamsha Natham"!!



Friday, 1 February 2013

On The Road, For Food!!


Why do I travel?   Why do I click? Is it to see new places and meet new people.  Yes , it is. But the complete list would be, To see new places, to meet new people and to eat the food they eat. Yes, Food, is a Big reason for my travels.Wherever I travel to, the local food is a “Must try” Action item for me.  My Travels in Bangladesh have  been no exception. Bangladesh is an extremely fertile country. Fertile lands and benevolent rivers produce plenty  of crops with little effort. Bangladeshis are thus a  race  of foodies.  
They love their food – the Traditional as well as the new are received with open arms. Bangladesh in general , and Dhaka in particular has been through various phases of history and nowhere is this influence more pronounced than in  the food. From the little lanes of Old Dhaka, rises the waft of world famous Kacchi Biriyanis and Mutton Teharis,  reminding you of those days when the Mughals   ruled  from Kashmir in the North to Deccan in the South and Gujarat in the west to Bengal in the East. Even though Mughal food is very popular here,  Bengalis have retained a deep love and affection for their traditional food. The street corner  Bangla Hotels will greet you with mouth  watering Sorshe Ilish(Hilsa with Mustard)  and Golda Chingri(Lobsters).  Bengalis cannot survive without their Mishti(Sweets),  Countless sweet shops across the length  and breadth of Bangladesh  will regale you with Umpteen varities of sweets like   Tangail Chom chom , Pitha and Bogurar Mishti Doi to mention just a few.  What say Mates,  want to join me on a guided culinary tour ?  However, just a word of caution, for those are  looking out for detailed recipes, I apologize.  I am a foodie, I dig into my  food from the word  “Go”, I finish clean,  burrp,  but I never bother  to know how it was prepared L. Sorry about that, but you will have to put up with it. Also, I wont be able to provide you detailed travel directions to our   Culinary Travel spots, I will leave the research for details upto you.  Apart from inconveniencing you on these two counts,  Let the fun begin, Bon Apetit!!


Our Journey starts at  Dhaka, the capital of this country. Dhaka has a very syncretic culture, the Mughal influences jostle alongside  the Traditional Bengali  influence,  our food travails  start with a little eatery  serving some of the best Mutton Teharis in Dhaka.  Haji Biriyani is thus our first must-visit spot in Dhaka. Though the main Branch is situated at  “Old Dhaka” , the one most easily accessible on a weekday is located at the main entrance of  Basundhara Residential layout. This small eatery has a no-frills service. You have only one menu to  choose from  , Mutton Tehari. A Tehari preparation is very much like a traditional Pakki Biriyani(Oops , coming to it later), the only difference being that the meat is cooked  as small pieces.  Haji has perfected the art of cooking Mutton Tehari, the succulent pieces of meat will just melt in your mouth. At any time of the day(Service starts from 1.00 PM and continues till 7 .00 PM), you will find a stream  of busy-bodies, office executives, school/college goers, Grameenphone employees(Grameenphone, the country’s leading Telecom operator, has its Headquarters very near Haji Biriyani, now this is called a benevolent employer). The  Huge cauldrons  of Haji Biriyani are always full, order  your food, and within 10 minutes, your plate is at your table, and you start digging into it right away.


Think of Mughal food, And Can  the king of  Mughlai, Biriyani be left  out ? Dhaka specializes in the two main brands  of Biriyani, the Kacchi as well as the Pakki.  Ardent Biriyani lovers  probably know the difference, for the uninitiated, here is a small writeup. Kacchi Biriyani is cooked with the raw meat, the Rice , spices all put in a big Metal cauldron(Copper/Steel), the mouth of the vessel is then sealed  with wheat gum, and the meat cooked in Dum style – with the pressure that is built inside the vessel.On, the other hand, for  Pakki Biriyani the  meat and rice  is  cooked separately , herbs and spices are  added, finally the two are mixed and served.

There is another place which has become famed over the years for its delectable Teharis and Biriyanis. “Shaad Tehari Ghar”, located at Lalmatia, Dhanmondi, is manned by a  woman  only staff.   This  cozy little place serves  lip smacking food. The owner , a pretty woman, greets you warmly, a petite young lady takes your orders, and soon steaming hot, fresh food will arrive from the  all lady-chef kitchen.



Mutton Tehari at Shaad Tehari Ghor, Lalmatia.(Photo Courtesy : Nipa Panday)


The most famous and easily available Biryani eatery would definitely be Fakruddin’s . With an army of Franchisees, you can spot Fakruddin’s Biriyani at most popular Dhaka locales. Fakruddin’s Kacchi Biriyani is its signature dish, for Biryani afficandos   on a short trip to Dhaka with little time to spare , I would recommend this place. Over the years Fakruddin  has gone global, farnchises have sprung  up in Dubai and Singapore. Old timers rue this globalization of Fakruddin, saying that globalization has degraded it.   However, go ahead and have a try, I am sure you wont be disappointed.

Most of us  staying in this subcontinent are aware about Khichdi, the quintessential Rice and Lentils  dish  mostly reserved for Rainy days. Bangladesh has a different variant of it, and its called Bhuni Khichdi. Unlike the mostly  semi-solid  gold that the  Indian Kitchens dish out, Bhuni Khichdi is dry and cooked with Meat and lots of spices.  Also conspicuous by its absence is the sumptuous Potato that is customary in the traditional Khicdi.  If you are in Dhaka, and want to sample it, then head to a small eatery called “Dhanshiri”. Try out the outlet at Gulshan 2 Circle. The Bhuni Khichdi is served in a copper  utensil, placed on a Burning flame. On a cold day, with the blue luminescent fire burning under the vessel, the khichdi seems to be even tastier.




                                                                           Bhuni Khichdi at Dhanshiri


Now that we have gorged on heavenly Mughlai delicacies, lets  salivate for  earthy Bengal food- “Bangla Khabar”, as the locals call it. Bengalis are famous for their preparation of fish, fish in any form, fried, baked or steamed. But that’s only one side of the coin, Bengalis can cook a wide variety of  delectable greens as well.  So lets turn our steps towards  all that “Sonar Bangla” has to offer. We will go to a small eatery in Old Dhaka called “Nirob” or “Silence”.  Located at Nizamuddin Road , it  is very popular with the local people. The name of this place probably  comes from the fact that once the food is served , its variety and taste makes the chattiest guest “Silent”. The USP of this hotel is that  it offers around 19  different eatables  in small plates to the guest. The guest pays for only those items which he/she   eats.  The items are unique, many  of these are not cooked in many Bangladeshi households any more.  There are “Vortas” or vegetable stuffing  of different kinds. Sample a few Fish, Prawns, Egg Plant Preparation, Banana Stuffing, Fish eggs stuffing, Lentil stuffings , leafy greens, Sweet Tomato Chatney.  After such a heavy meal, you will probably end up paying only a meager Taka.600 or around USD 8 only .  Here at Nirob , you can also order “ilish Mach” or Hilsa fish. Sorshe Ilish, or Hilsa cooked with Mustard is something, you should definitely try.


Hotel Nirob

All this while we have  focused  mainly on Nov-Vegetarian food, vegans don’t get disheartened, though less in number, but there are great places for you as well.  Lets travel to Tangail, a small town around forty  kilometers from Dhaka and famed for its weavers who produce the Famous “Tangail Sarees”.  “Shri Radha Govinda Bhojonalya”, a small Eatery, located beside the Tanagail Kali Temple , serves pure Vegetarian Vaishnav food. This eatery doesn’t use  even Onions or  garlic to  prepare food. However the food is simply out-of-this-world. You need to be here  to believe how a small eatery can serve such clean, fresh and piping hot food.  At  a very very reasonable rate(The most expensive dish here costs only BDT. 15), you get to eat 3-4 different types of vegetable preparation; some of these preparations are rarely prepared even at Hindu homes nowadays. The best part of the meal is the customary desert, a different sweet preparation each day.

                                                                  Shri RadhaGovinda Bhojonalaya, Tangail


Now that we had enough of the main course, what about  Desserts??  You are at Bangladesh, and how can you miss out  sweets?  Since we finished the lunch at Tangail , lets linger on a bit more, and savor Tangail Chomchom.   Chomchom, a sweetmeat prepared with  flour , sugar and milk is very popular throughout the Indian Subcontinent.  The story goes that at a small village near Tangail town, there was a sweet-maker who stayed at a Burnt-House, colloquially called Porabari  in Bangla. The sweet maker  used to prepare the traditional Chamcham, but with a twist; he used to mix the sweet water of the Dhaleshwari river, a tributary of the River Jamuna. The twist in the taste produced the Famous “Porabari Chom Chom”   Brand. Nowadays, every nook and corner of Bangladesh has a cheap  imitation  of the original, all calling themselves “Authentic  Porabarir Chomchom”. Try out Chomchom at  a famous sweetshop called Gour Ghosh . The sheer Teracotta   texture of the sweet will unsettle the biggest health freak. It comes in various sizes, there have been chomchoms weighing uptill 1 Kilo . J , And the sheer taste of the sweet, as I write this bit, I cant help control  salt water from running down my tongue . For a day forget all your inhibitions, eat loads of it, feed your companions(if U have gone in a group) and carry back tonnes of it for your friends and relatives, know for sure it will be the shortest and easiest route to their hearts.   Also try out the Rosomalai, Mishti Doi(Sweet Curd) and Gulabjamun as well,  it will add on to your “sweet “ memories. 


Chomchom @ Gour Ghose, Tangail

Bangladesh  is also famous for a different variety of sweet called “Pitha”. Towards the end of winter, with  the advent of Sankranti (Winter  Solstice), rural households  prepare sweets made of Rice powder . The ingredients can be different, but rice powder  is  a must  in “Pitha”.     One of the most popular Pitha during this season is “Khejur Rosh Pitha”, or Rice sweets soaked in boiled syrup of date-palm.  Date Palm juice is usually collected throughout the night in earthen pitchers hoisted on palm trees. In the morning, when the Pitchers  get  filled with the Copper coloured Liquid, rice is finely ground  and turned into various shapes using a mould . These Variously shaped  rice moulds are now boiled  along with the   date-palm syrup till these moulds  soak in the syrup and ingrains it. If you are  fortunate, and get invite from a rural home, then,  cross the many rivers that you need to cross , take the flatbed vans that you need to  ride and reach the distant village home just for this sublime savoury. But for those, who are not so lucky, here’s a easy way out for you, try “Baily Pitha Ghor”, a sweet shop which specializes in Pitha. Although it has got branches in various localities of Dhaka, I am acquainted with the one at Basundhara residential enclave. 


KHEJUR ROSH PITHE

Inside Bailey Pithe Ghor


Burrrppp!!! Now that we had a heavy lunch and a equally sweet dessert, its Time for High Tea folks. What sort of Tea are you  fond of? Raw Liqueur or Tea with Milk? We are going to have a totally different out-of-this world Tea. But, for this, we must travel to the northern end of thiscountry, to the hilly T-Growing district of Sylhet. Around 200 Kms from Dhaka, Sylhet has Air/Bus as well as Railway connectivity from Dhaka.  Bordering  the Indian state of Assam , Sylhet has long been famed for its globetrotting  enterpreunial citizenry(who think Sylhet is a Different country altogether J ) and its Tea. No wonder that this place should earn distinction by innovating with Tea. Nilkantha’s  Tea Cabin ; has become a Brand name in itself, and believe it or not, a major tourist attraction. It has been featured in the lonely planet  as the “Top 5 things to do in Sylhet”. Its USP is the unique 5 layer Tea which it prepares. A treat to the senses – The eyes atleast (Many People feel that the Tea is too sweet to taste) .  When  the gentleman called Nilkantha  opened his small T-Shop at Sreemangal  district of Sylhet, and had a Brainwave to create Tea which would  five  different components , each distinguished by five  different distinct layers, little did he know that he would  become a culinary celebrity. But here he is today, the recipe of his Tea being as secret and confidential as “Coca-Cola” Formula. However, Nilkantha and his family hasn’t stowed it away in Swiss Bank Vaults. They have a unique  way of maintaining it though, While the tea is being prepared, nobody is allowed to witness it except the family members, thus ensuring that the recipe passes on from Generation to Generation. Recently, many clones of this famous T has sprung up, we witnessed a small “Tea-Cabin ” selling 7 layered Tea inside the Famous Lavachara National Park at Sreemangal.Try it out for yourself, and come back with your own review of the Tea.


Seven Layered Tea at Sreemangal

As the day comes to an end, and the sun sets, we  find that the Road has taken us Far and wide in search of Food. We have savoured a lot, but a lot is still left to be savoured.  It is  evening, and its time to relax with Friends. Sitting at a small cozy cafĂ©  called “Bitter Sweet” at Gulshan-2 , Dhaka, chatting with friends over  a cup of Hot  Cofee, you will realize that the Journey is far from over. The Road will keep beckoning you, after all there is much to be tasted. The Road to Chittagong and Cox’s Bazar Beckons. Along with the smell and sights of the ocean, Shutki Mach or Dried Fish  cooked with sacks of red chilly and spices will do  all that it takes to rejuvenate you (Not for the weak Hearted Though).  Coomilla with its famous sweet Roshomalai awaits you as well. The World Heritage site of “Sunderbans”  has invited you to salute the King of the Jungle and taste the Divine Honey that it offers. Barishal  asks you to visit her and  taste fresh water fish that her numerous rivers offer. What say Mates,  Let us get back on the Road for Food ?






Friday, 23 November 2012

The Last Wish


“Once upon a time in a fairy land…..” No , this is not a fairytale, but it has got shades and colors of one. This is the story of a man and his passionate wish – a tale of a bygone era starting from the end-days of the British Raj and ending in the  new century in a rapidly globalized modern India, it is a unique story of Life coming full-circle; of  a man’s desperate quest for his roots and for his home which  had been snatched away from him.

My Father-In-Law was born in a small village of Kushtia, now in Bangladesh. Famous for the 19th Century mystic Lalon Fakir, the mighty river Padma has blessed this area with an unmatched abundance.It was admist this abundance that a small boy was growing up, when all of a sudden dark clouds of tragedy visited his family.The year was 1947, Britain was in Tatters, the British were leaving India ; they decided to strike one fatal blow to their erstwhile colony. The country was to be Partitioned  on religious basis into two new countries- India and Pakistan. A sea of humanity would be uprooted and displaced, families would be wiped out and countless rendered homeless. This small boy and his family would meet such fate, although theirs would be far less tragic than that of many. They would resettle at a small sub-urban town near Calcutta, not far from Kushtia. Peering from across the barbed fence that had been erected overnight, the boy would be lost in the reverie of the home he had left behind across the barbed fence.

Fast forward to the new century , the dawn of this century saw a mighty India arise, having forgotten the pains of colonization and partition.Indian economy was  Registering a phenomenal growth rate of around 8% year after year, Indian companies started  opening up overseas offices and transforming themselves into “Indian Multinational” companies. Its footsoldiers were traversing the globe in chartered flights and Jet planes , like the retinue of Indian Merchants and sailors who had done so  ages back in Big Ship. As a child of this globalization, I was no exception. My company opened a Operations Centre  at  Dhaka, the capital of Bangladesh, and I was transferred there for an year’s time. My Father-In-Law was one of those  few people who actually celebrated this transfer, drowning the sea of skeptical voices who questioned what I would be doing in a country which had been in the Indian public opinion  for wrong reasons. “ Settle down soon, and I am on my way” , he said, – On his way to return to his village, back to those fields where he played and frolicked, back to those days when 60 mins made an hour, back to those sunlight washed verandah of his house where the Durgapuja used to be performed every year with great pomp and grandeur.

However destiny had very different plans for all of us, my father-in-law was a cancer survivor, the effects of radiation and chemotherapy would gradually wither him away. A few weeks before his death, he made his last wish; being pleaded by his eldest daughter to come down and stay with her at Sydney for advanced medical care, he replied, “Kushtia it is, I wish to recover soon , get back to my little village and relive those golden days”.But the wish would remain a wish only, within afew days he was relieved from the unbearable pain and suffering he had so majestically borne for the last few years.

According to Hindu death rites, the lifeless Body is consigned to the flames, and the ashes floated down the River Ganga. The river which gives life to millions , also gives them solace and emancipation after death.  However my communist Father-In-Law never lived by such faith , after death when suggestions were floated for doing so, his family felt the comrade’s soul might object to our doing so , he might infact return to haunt those who carried it out. Accordingly a compromise was worked out, while a portion of the relics were to be immersed in a small river that flowed by his house, the remainder would be carried back to Bangladesh, and immersed in the Majestic Padma which flowed near his erstwhile village , and which was an offshoot of the Ganges.

It was journey time for us, journeying to the interiors of Bangladesh , a lazy morning  saw us arrive at a suburban town called “Bheramara”. Now it was a total journey into the unknown. Imagine searching for a village with only the memories of a man in  his eighties – Description of  pre-independence era Subdivison Mufassal towns , kotwalis(Small Police Outposts) and villages; story  of a small river flowing through the village  didn’t help either. We asked the locals about the village, “Jhaudia”, it turned out that there were three  villages of the same name, all within a 10 sq mile radius!!However we were lucky, the locals recognized the pre-independence era Kotwali and subdivision town still existed; the river was also identified, but sadly, like many other small rivers of this riverine country,  it had also dried up. Armed with local info, we rented a small three wheel drive, and embarked on our “Discovery of your roots” journey .Dawn was just breaking out and the serene idyllic villages of rural Bengal were just waking up. Smiling farmers on the way to their fields helped us out with directions.
After about an hours sojourn through some of the greenest landscape in the world, we were at our destination. A small motley rustic crowd surrounded us , curious to know why we were searching for a Hindu family in their village, where there was none. We explained to them the purpose of our visit, we told them about my Father-In-Law’s  grandfather   being rich landowner   in this village. An elderly man recognized him.”Oh you are searching for Nagen Babu’s house, where have you come from ?”, he asked,  On telling him that we were from India,the villagers became suspsicious, had we come to claim these lands under the infamous “Enemy Property Act”, they wondered. We could sense a certain degree of resentment in them.One person came forward and said that he has the lease papers for farming in  “Nagen babu’s” erstwhile estate land. We had to convince them that we had no such intention; that gone were rich landlords, gone was the zamnidari system itself, theirs lands gone as well. It took some time to convince them, once they were convinced , they welcomed us with open arms. We were taken around and shown the stretch of land on which stood the Huge  Mansion.Time the great leveler had razed it to dust.The remnants of the house was used as construction material by the villagers and the land used for cultivation. The villagers regaled us with anecdotes about the house, we in turn told them the story of a dead man’s “Last wish”. It touched them so much that one person exclaimed, “What a tremendous attachment and love it is – This love for one’s  land, you may leave it and travel far and wide, but be it in your lifetime or after it, you will definitely have to return”. The rustic had summarized our story like none.

Time was sparse, the purpose of our visit to this place only partially accomplished. My Father-In-Law had returned to his village, now it was time to immerse his ashes in the Padma – the sacred river formed by the confluence of two Great Sub-continental rivers- the Ganga and Bramhaputra. As the  tranquil river carried the urn containing the mortal remains in her bosom , we offered our prayers , “ Go forth to where there is no more darkness and death, go there where there is no more separation and its accompanying tears, your Last Wish has been fulfilled, now Rest in peace”.

Friday, 1 June 2012

Arjuner Khal



There once lived in a small nondescript village of Bangladesh,  a man called Arjun. He was a simple person, with a few acres of farmland. Blessed with abundance of water, Arjun's  farmlands  gave enough  produce to keep the family going throughout the year. An exceptionally strong man , Arjun would work hard in his fields throughout the day, come home in the evening, relax  under the starlit sky and watch his children playing around him. Kind-hearted and good-natured, Arjun was loved by one and all.

It was one of those years, when the rainfall was below normal. Sensing tough days ahead, Arjun decided to dig a canal to get water from the nearby Madhumati river upto his fields. Along with a friend, he hired a group of around 10 daily wagers to do the job. It being the blazing days of summer, the group decided to start work very early and wrap off  early. Accordingly they decided to be at the field next morning  during  the Azan(call) of the First Namaz(Islamic Prayer) , which usually is at around 3.45 AM. Arjun’s friend Fazal told him that he would bring the group of laborers to his house at that time. Together they would leave for the fields.  Arjun finished his dinner with his friend and bade him good-night.

Next day, when the night was still dark, Arjun heard  a knock. Startled by the  knock at dead of the night, Arjun wondered who was at his door. The table clock  showed 2.00 AM. He heard an indistinct voice calling out his name. Was that Fazal? But why at this unearthly hour, was Fazal calling him? He went out with a small kerosene lamp. In the dim light , he saw a form which resembled Fazal, but which was covered from head to toe with a Chaddar(Light  Shawl). “Is it you Fazal?”, Arjun asked. “Yes Arjun, sorry to have arrived so early”, the voice replied.”The chief laborer came to me after I returned from your house and said that he wanted to start  earlier than  decided”. “Fine, if that’s so, lets get started”, Arjun replied. He picked up his ploughshare, took with him a small packet of food, the lantern and left for the field.     

There was something eerie about the night. It was pitch dark  all around. Far away a Jackal was howling. It seemed that  something sinister would happen. Arjun started feeling a little uncomfortable. Fear was something alien to him. But tonight, he started getting creepy. As he kept moving, he noticed something which puzzled him. It was Fazal. Why was he not removing that cloak of his? It was a mid-summers night, temperatures were running high.  Why then this cloak? Also, Fazal was behaving very strangely. He seemed to be maintaining some  distance from Arjun, as if something about Arjun was scaring him . “Brother Fazal, what is the matter?” Arjun asked, “Why are you moving so slowly?”. “Nothing Arjun, just got  lost in my own thoughts. Brother, why don’t you relieve yourself of that massive iron ploughshare of yours”, Fazal  replied.  For a moment Arjun thought of reliving himself of this burden. But then something deep within him forbade him to do so.”It is OK Brother, I will carry it”, Arjun replied. Although he couldn’t see Fazal’s face in the dark, he instinctively felt  Fazal’s displeasure. They continued ; after sometime Fazal  again repeated his offer of carrying the plough, this time albeit much more aggressively. Now Arjun sensed something was wrong. He turned around, and tried to see Fazal with the faint light of his lantern. Fazal jumped back , as if he was stung by a scorpion. “Don’t you do it again, don’t you bring that mass of fire near me”, the figure from the cloak howled. The voice was not Fazal’s. Arjun now realized what was going on. This was definitely not Fazal. This was something Evil, some disembodied spirit which had taken the form of Fazal to lure him to the field and kill him. Now it made sense; he understood  why Fazal was trying to take away the ploughshare from him. Iron scared evil  spirits. As long as that piece of Iron and the lantern was with him, the ghost wouldn’t be able to harm him. But what was he to do? Would he run away? No, it couldn’t be. If he tried running away, matters might come to worse. He decided to go to the field, he would pretend as if everything was alright. The first Namaz would be called  in another couple of hours , the sacred Prayers were known to dispel evil spirits. 

For the first time in his life, Arjun was mortally scared. Mustering  whatever courage he could , he moved on with the Ghost in the form of his friend Fazal following him. Once they reached the field, they started their  work. The ghost  volunteered, “Arjun, give me your ploughshare, let me start digging the canal”. Arjun refused firmly, “No Fazal, I will dig the canal, you clear the earth that is being burrowed out”. Thus they began their work, Arjun digging the canal, and the Ghost clearing the earth;  each pound of earth that it threw fell miles away. All the while the ghost told Arjun, “Rest awhile my friend, keep aside your ploughshare and rest awhile”, but Arjun knew that the ploughshare was his lifeline. The moment he stopped digging and kept the ploughshare aside, the Ghost would pounce upon him. Thus he continued digging  without a moments break. Within a couple of  hours , aided by the supernatural powers of the evil one , and his fears,  Arjun  had accomplished what would have taken an army of laborers atleast three days to achieve – his canal  was ready.  As he looked at the sky, he realized that dawn would set  in soon. The Azan for the Fajr Namaz would be heard in a while. Ah, Hold on yet a while brave soul, he told himself.


Around early morning, at the appointed hour, the  real Fazal turned up at Arjun’s door. Arjun’s sister was shell shocked to see him, she told him  the events that had happened since mid-night.  They both ran to the field, and saw what was going on. The sister was a very powerful lady, well versed in occult powers. She uttered a mantra(Chant) , the ghost ;let loose a cry of pain. He assumed his real form, a hideous dark monster, he yelled and he howled. In a voice that was bestial, he said ,”Arjun your ploughshare and your sister   saved you today  , but I will be back,I will have my vengeance. You wont be lucky again”. Saying so,  the ghost vanished. Arjun fainted, more from non-stop digging than fear. When he was  brought back to his senses he was surrounded by a sea of humanity. People from the nearby villages came running, the word had spread, Arjun had miraculously dug a Khal(Canal/Trench) overnight with the aid of a Ghost. Arjun became a celebrity , people named the canal as  “ Arjuner Khal”.

 Even now Arjun is alive;his  Khal  still exists. If you, dear reader,  don’t believe me, visit Lakhimpur village  of Narail district in Jessore division of Bangladesh. Probably on a moonless night,  standing near Arjuner Khal, you might chance upon a cloaked figure, waiting in the dark; waiting for some other  Arjun, waiting to extract his vengeance.