INNER STRENGTH

What makes ordinary men become extraordinary is a question I have often debated but never truly found an answer. Dreams we all have but how many of us go out chasing them. So often we blame about lack of money, opportunity, support and finally ‘one size that fits all’ answer of Man proposes, God disposes….God does not want me to do it.  We never say that I am afraid that I will fail; we never accept that people may mock us for our audacious dream and finally if we were to even start acting, we give up too soon, maybe at the first sight of failure. Today I shall narrate the tale of one woman who lived her dreams and that too with absolutely nothing in her kitty except grit, desire, perseverance and most importantly as Shifu in Kungfu Panda says ‘inner peace’ and what she calls ‘inner strength’.

Subhashini Mistry was born to poor parents on the outskirts of Kolkata. She was married to an agricultural worker at the age of 12 and had 4 children. In 1971, her husband fell ill and was taken to a government hospital in Kolkata but the man died because the doctors refused to attend to him as he was penniless. With four hungry children to feed, poor and illiterate Subhashini started working as a maid servant in five houses doing almost every work you could think of from cooking, washing and to gardening.

But in this gravest hour of grief she took one oath that no one should meet her fate. The poor and needy should get the basic medical facility. She vowed that she would build a hospital for the poor. And yet her earning at that time was just Rs 100 per month.

She sent her eldest son, Ajoy, to an orphanage in Kolkata while the other three children helped her in her work. She soon discovered that picking vegetables and selling them was better than house work. She started selling vegetables and gradually set up a stall in Park Circus area. Her earnings grew to Rs 500 a month and she started saving a little of it in her post office account. She did this for 20 long years. She spent not a penny on herself except for the education of Ajoy. Saving bit by bit, with just one dream of building a hospital one day, she carried on silently.

लहरों से डर कर नौका पार नहीं होती,
कोशिश करने वालों की कभी हार नहीं होती।

In 1992 she bought one acre of land in her husband’s village of Hanspukur. She gathered the villagers and told them of her plans. The villagers pooled in all their monies and collected Rs 926. But they got together bamboos, ropes, leaves and earth and built a 20 by 20 feet thatched dispensary in 1993. An auto rickshaw went around the area asking medical professionals for help. Soon 5 doctors volunteered to give two to four hours of their time for free treatment to patients. On Day One of the dispensary, 252 patients were treated. Shubhashini aptly named the dispensary Humanity Hospital.

So far so good but when monsoon came in full fury, it was impossible to work in the make shift temporary dispensary. They needed more money to make a concrete roof and better amenities. Ajoy and his mother took the help of local politicians and gradually some more purse strings were loosened by other donors. It took time and the work went on till a formal foundation stone for a hospital was laid. And guess who came to inaugurate the Humanity Hospital…no lesser man than the Governor of West Bengal… which makes you wonder that the Lord God helps those who seek help in right earnest. With the Governor came press, and with the press came the interest of people and donations and help started pouring in.

नन्हीं चींटी जब दाना लेकर चलती है,
चढ़ती दीवारों पर, सौ बार फिसलती है।
मन का विश्वास रगों में साहस भरता है,
चढ़कर गिरना, गिरकर चढ़ना न अखरता है।
आख़िर उसकी मेहनत बेकार नहीं होती,
कोशिश करने वालों की कभी हार नहीं होती।

Meanwhile, Ajoy completed his graduation from medical college and joined the running of the Humanity Hospital. Eminent citizens including doctors and bureaucrats became trustees and started expanding the hospital which now has 3 acres of land, 9000 sq feet of area and is now spread over two floors. Throughout this growth, Subhashini never forgot her main objective of opening the hospital that is to serve the poor. The poor were to still get free treatment and those slightly better off were to now pay Rs 10 per consultation. This money was to ensure that the hospital gradually became self sufficient and not survived solely on donations.

With Ajoy in control of the situation at the hospital, Subhashini went back to selling vegetables. Her son, after much persuasion, asked her to stay back at home as she has grown very old. She however goes around the beds tending to patients. One of her son and one daughters still sell vegetables where mother once used to. The youngest daughter has become a nurse at the Humanity Hospital.

When asked how she achieved all this, she says, “Inner Strength. God in his infinite grace gave me a vision at the darkest moment in life. From then on my life had a purpose. I used whatever strength God gave me to make sure other poor people did not lose their loved ones for lack of medical attention.” She is still not done with her mission. She says until the day the hospital becomes a 24 hour full- fledged hospital, I cannot die in peace.

In the end, I am reminded of the movie Bucket List where two terminally ill patients went out enjoying what they wanted to do before dying. Standing near the pyramids, Morgan Freeman asks Jack Nicholson, “Do you know what ancient Egyptians' Gods asked of the dead at the entrance to heaven? They asked them two questions, answers to which decided their entry."

Have you found joy in your life? 

Has your life brought joy to others?

 Subhashini Mistry will be able to answer both the questions. What about you and me?

SS

THE SURVIVORS

Insurance companies are often blamed for showing the fine print and finding reasons not to pay claims but sometimes it is they who wish to pay but don’t know who to pay and how to pay. Two short stories from our world, names changed for obvious reasons.

HABEAS CORPUS

They were the quietest couple. Living next door to the Srinivasan’s was very different and at times difficult. It wasn’t always like this. Since the last two years the silence was almost all pervasive and the front door shut was a frozen frame. All you could hear early morning was the Gayatri Mantra being chanted, the puja bells ringing softly with the aroma of incense sticks seeping softly out .In the evening  it was usually MS Subbalakshmi’s bhajans playing on the record player. The milkman would drop the milk packets every morning at the door step, the flower man came slightly before  and hung the plastic packet in the grill on the door, then came the fruitwala and the the subziwala. They had even stopped the newspaper and done away with the cable connection.

Veenu Uncle and Lata Aunty were hardly seen outside their home but for those one off visit to Dr. Anitha’s Clinic nearby. We would wait for those days just to get a glimpse of them. I tried at times to stand near the staircase to talk to them but all I could manage was an occasional smile and they would simply walk by as if no one was around. Having lived my childhood in a government colony where you had neighbours coming in asking for sugar, as they had guests in their house, and angry mothers walking across to the brute’s house to complain to his mother how badly he had beaten up her little Sonu. This indeed was different….never knew silence can be so deafening.

In all these two years, I had heard Uncle Veenu shout twice…just twice. Both the times the lines were the same….once to the police and second time it was with someone who had come from an insurance company.  The shouting was so loud and full throated that I had rushed out of my house to make sure all was fine with the couple.

“Stop lying to us. Leave us in peace. Do you have any proof? Show me if you have any. Why do you people keep troubling us? Next time you come, I will thrash you, lying scoundrels. Show me the proof or else get out. Never come back here.”

Uncle Veenu would shove the men towards the staircase. The visitors never protested and meekly backed away. As soon as they went out of sight, the door went…Bang! Shut again till no one knew when.

Two years ago, Shankar, the only son of their couple had gone out to Kanyakumari for a picnic with his colleagues from his company. Shankar was a bright boy and people told me about him having scored well in all his board exams and how he got recruited from the engineering campus by a large IT company. Shankar, along with his two friends, had been walking on the beach with water till their knees when suddenly a huge wave struck. Two friends were rescued by the lifeguards nearby but Shankar could not be found. They searched for him everywhere but couldn’t find his body. He was declared dead. The police closed their file after some time.

More often than not it is the insurance company who asks for documents and proof before settling claims but here was a strange case where the beneficiary was asking for proof to convince him that the insured man was no more.

Dead End

On 8th March 2014, Malyasian Airlines MH370 took off from Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia for Beijing, China.  Among the 227 passengers were the middle aged couple of Mr. and Mrs Kamble from Mumbai who loved travelling but never had the means to do it till Mr. Kamble retired and they were off on a holiday to Singapore, Malaysia and China. Their son, Devendra, had helped them get their passports and planned the trip meticulously from hotels to stay, airport transfers and places to visit.

One hour into the flight, the aircraft deviated from its planned flight path and crossed Malay Peninsula and then left the range of the radars. A multinational search operation was launched all over the Indian Ocean from Gulf of Thailand to Andaman Islands and this was then extended to Australia on the other side. Every inch of the vast ocean was scanned by ships, submarines and choppers, every satellite picture was examined in this massive search but nothing was found anywhere…no wreckage, no body, no picture…simply nothing. After months of search, the Malaysian authorities declared that the aircraft had been lost and there were no survivors.

The insurance company got the list of all passengers on board and identified the ones insured by them…..one..two…three..four and five. Five travel insurance death claims in one go is otherwise a large outgo but for once the company went out of its way to process the claims based on factual information…no claim had been filed, no document given…just press releases and news confirmation was deemed enough. Files signed and cheques were prepared quickly after all this was tragedy beyond ordinary. Three beneficiaries informed and were given the claim cheques. But two cheques lay unclaimed with the insurers for they could not find Devendra, the lone son of Kamble’s. Letters were sent to the address given in the policy but they would get returned undelivered. Some good samaritans also went to the society where the Kambles lived to find out about Devendra who had vanished. It seemed like a dead end.

The police started a search for Devendra and finally after six months of search, they found him living with a friend of his in a chawl in Dharavi. Aah..the insurers gave a sigh of relief and issued fresh cheques and asked Devendra to come and collect the same after signing the discharge. They waited and waited but Devendra never came. They went to his friend’s house again but he had left by then and no one knows where. The cheques remain uncashed till date.

We often cry for people who die but forget how many more die living in their memory. We tell all that insurance is important as we ‘indemnify’ or make good the loss. It helps you get back in life but no money can compensate for those who are no more; those left behind don’t understand money. Losses as these can never be made good. Is this the real devaluation of the rupee?

SS

Of Kafur & Kafir

Allauddin Khilji was the ruler of the Delhi Sultanate from 1296 to 1316. He was the first ruler who ventured down Southern India for conquest. His campaigns were led by an able general, Malik Kafur. Kafur was also known as Hazaar Dinaari, which was supposed to be the amount the Sultan paid for buying the slave who rose to the rank of general. In 1294, Kafur led Sultan’s army to the Yadava Kingdom of Devagiri. He even defeated the Mongols in the Battle of Amroha. Later, between 1309-1311, Kafur led two successful campaigns against the Kakatiyas of Warangal and the Pandyas and reached as far as Madurai. The booty from Warangal included the famous Koh-i-Noor diamond. After Alauddin’s death, Malik Kafur after blinding the heir apparent installed Alauddinn’s three year old son Umar Khan on the throne.

Why am I telling you about Malik Kafur today? The reason is simple- the two recent events much debated on the idiot box were on the Article 377 where the fate of the LGBT is being decided by the Supreme Court and the ruckus that is happening at the Jawaharlal Nehru University today. Here’s how I am connected with the two dramatic happenings of acceptability and nationalism in our times.

It was the summer of ‘87 and my friend Murali was at home. He needed a place to stay while preparing for his civil services so applied for MPhil at JNU. I was clear, no more colleges for me. It was time to get studying and thinking seriously about my career. Despite my protests, he made me fill the application form for the entrance test. Anyway without any preparations, I landed up at the examination centre and wrote an essay which would have caught the fancy of the examinees and then got a call for the interview. As part of the interview, every candidate had to write a short essay on the topic he wished to pursue in MPhil in History. The candidate would then be interviewed on the basis of the topic by the illustrious board consisting of who’s who of Indian History. Impishly I wrote down a short essay on a topic which I knew would surely get out rightly rejected.

 And the Big Day arrived and I waited outside the door for my turn. There was no element of fear in me as my life and future was not dependent on this interview, however, was not sure how embarrassed I would be walking out of the room. As my name was called, sipped some water and walked in…Oh My God…Romila Thapar, Bipin Chandra and other doyens of Indian History…I felt as if I had walked into the college library and all the historians whose books we had read had come to life.

Smile often is your best defence in situations when you know death is certain. And that is what I did as I sat down on the chair that lay in one end of the table. All the interviewers were sitting in a semi circle. They reminded me of Auschwitz where I was a poor Jew waiting for the Nazi firing squad. Could see the defenders of Indian History shout, “feuer ..feuer”….and I said, “do it quickly and painlessly O Scribes.”

After the initial small talk of my graduation and post graduation scores, one of them asked, “Can we have the topic you wish to do research in? “

I handed over the note to the interviewer sitting closest to me and crossed my hands defensively in front. As the grey haired historian read the topic, I could see his eyes light up…he may not have blinked his eyes as he finished reading the note….Bingo…I knew my arrow had hit the Bull’s Eye!

My note was passed around the table to a couple of interviewers. I could see their jaws drop as they read in complete awe…there was an eerie silence till one of the doyens spoke up…

Mr. Sen, would you consider changing your topic?

Why, what is his topic, asked the two who had not laid their eyes on my brilliant notes.

Mr. Sen here wishes to study the Role of Eunuchs in Medieval Indian History.

Whaaaat!! Role of Eunuchs in Medieval Indian History?  What sort of topic is this? I agree Mr. Sen you should seriously consider changing your topic.

No Sir, I wish to do my research on this topic itself. I have written about a few kings including Malik Sharwar, who started the Sharqi dynasty of Jaunpur, who was a eunuch.  Then there was Saif-ud-Din, the ruler of Bengal, who too was a eunuch. And finally how can anybody forget Malik Kafur and his role in the Delhi Sultanate. There were many among them who guarded the royal harems and the royalty and played an important part in palace intrigues and in shaping the history of early Medieval India. I find this topic really interesting and surely my research will bring out many more facts and events about the eunuchs.

I was adamant and so were they, both with a cause we professed. Me, to make sure they threw me out  of the campus and they, to protect the sanctity of historical literature and dignity of the temple of education.

We seriously think, Mr. Sen, the topic needs to be changed. We can’t allow such a topic to be part of any serious historical research and that too associated with an institution like ours.

I kept on repeating my request but they fell on deaf ears. Peace was finally restored as one of the seniors there said, “We will examine this topic but however is there any other topic in Medieval Indian History that interests you.”

Reluctantly and in order to end the mutual agony, I agreed to speak about the Decline of the Delhi Sultanate…one of the most uninteresting topics. They let me speak for some time on the new topic.

As I walked out of the room, I could hear a snigger behind me, “kaise kaise log aa jaate hain yahaan”. Surely my days of history had become history today.  Not many know that there is a theory of Alauddin Khilji falling in love with the effeminate beauty of Malik Kafur. Maybe my ‘historical’ research would have added to the ammo of the LGBT community in their fight for equality and maybe JNU today would have the Sense and Sensibility to distinguish a believer from a kafir as the nation moves from medieval-ism to modernity.

SS

Avalanche Express

We are Ten, Ten Bravehearts

Sentinels on the snow

We walk out on days and nights

With temperatures always so low

Minus ten is comforting to us

Below forty is when you miss your toe

Sunlight, frostbite, hypothermia

Welcome to our abode in snow

Welcome to Siachen.

We are Ten, Ten Bravehearts

Out on a special mission

To stop the raiders from across

Coming into our nation

Walking in snow so deep

When we heard a huge commotion

No, it wasn’t the guns booming

But the rumbling of snow in motion

Come later to our abode on snow

It’s too hot right now in Siachen.

We are Ten, Ten Bravehearts

Sensing our biggest killer

With nowhere to hide

Didn’t run hither & thither

T’was coming down the mountain

Crushing all beneath, this road roller

Just minutes away from us it was

We stood still, we held our hands together

Death was roaring & laughing at us

But we never let go of our hands

For us it had always been

All for One, One for All

Now this will be our abode forever

Never ever to say Goodbye Siachen.

We were Ten, Ten Bravehearts

No one else will know our names

But for our mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters

And our wives, sons, daughters, friends

Who will come to know of us much later

After days when all the searches are over

They’ll never find us, for we are lost

Lost forever, together us Ten Bravehearts

Sleeping soundlessly, frozen forever.

Soon another set of  Bravehearts will take our place

Welcome to Siachen, Mates.

We were Ten, Ten Bravehearts

Who will soon be forgotten

Wiped away from your memories soon

But not for our own families

Who wait at the station to receive us

As the Avalanche Express comes chugging down

Coming with our empty coffins

Wrapped in saffron green and white

Lying ten feet below, with unfulfilled dreams

Dreams of goodness and joy

Wondering how Genesis would have described us  

From Dust to Dust or From Dust to Snow

Zara hatke, zara bachke, yeh hai Siachen meri jaan!

And in the end imagined myself singing

Hoping words of my favorite song would come true

 Imagine there’s no countries, It isn’t hard to do

Nothing to kill or die for, And no religion too

Imagine all the people, Living life in peace

Yo hoo oo!!

And there’ll be Siachen No More

You may say I’m a dreamer

But I’m not the only one.

Jai Hind!

SS