Not Just Another Day

It was around 10pm at night when we started watching Bhuvan’s Boys playing the Goras in the epic movie Lagaan on the television. It was the day when the tricolor was unfurled at the Red Fort and patriotic spirit set afire with tons of Whatsapp videos and messages celebrating the 72^nd Independence Day. This was the day in 1947 when the Union Jack came down and we began our tryst and twist with destiny at the stroke of midnight. By the time we shut down the idiot box, a new day had begun but we woke up within 2 hours of it for our daughter was to fly away for a short vacation overseas. Driving in Mumbai streets is best at 2am, possibly the only time when the city actually sleeps, and in no time we reached the airport. The Tiranga was fluttering high in full glory at the airport and the pillars there were lit up in colours of saffron, green and white which made us feel proud for once.

After learning of her having cleared emigration, we left for home and I again woke up in a couple of hours to catch a flight to Vadodara on a business trip. After finishing the meeting at a client’s factory, which was located about 45 kms outside the city in a place called Panchmahal, I requested my office colleague to take a short detour of a fort nearby and we saw the UNESCO Heritage site of Champaner Fort built by Sultan Mahmud Begada in the late 15^th and early 16^th century. Due to paucity of time we could not venture inside the fort to see the magnificence created by the Sultan and his successors but was happy to have got a sight of the monument cruising in a car on a rain drenched afternoon. Quite a coincidence as the movie Lagaan was set in the principality of Champaner. Though I found no trace of the Boys of Bhuvan but got to see some donkeys on the road, something you don’t see on Mumbai roads. Maybe, these creatures, whose intelligence we make fun of, get deterred by the infamous potholes some of which are larger than the craters on moon. Anyway, these bumps on the roads never stop us Mumbaikars from venturing out and braying aloud calling this madness our indomitable spirit!

By the time I landed back to Mumbai in the evening, my daughter had posted a few of her pictures in London.  The young lady was taking a welcome Independence Day break, after almost 9 long years of servitude in the government medical colleges of Mumbai and Delhi. The long hours the doctors have to put in under extremely trying conditions there would put even the hardcore military regimen to shame. And what do I see; the Union Jack is up again once more! Maybe, the English team had taken sweet revenge of Lagaan’s defeat on Virat’s Boys at Lords and had every reason to feel high! Wonder if BCCI should put a Lagaan of 3 years of non-payment of monies to these Gods when they fail miserably?

Eureka…I just discovered the similarity Captain Andrew Rusell, the tormentor of Champaner shared with Indian cricket team’s heckler of today,  Jimmy Anderson…decide for yourself….ditto to me.

By sunset now, the mood in the country had gone sullen with the sad news of the demise of Atal Bihari Vajpayee, a man who possibly had no enemies, a man even his worst political opponent would think twice before saying anything bad about. As all the cameras were trying to catch a glimpse of the dignitaries arriving at the AIIMS Hospital, I remembered two incidents associated with the Poet Politician of India.

The first was almost two decades ago when my girl was studying in Sardar Patel Vidyalaya at Delhi. Atal ji, who had just become the prime minister 12 days ago, was to come and deliver a talk to the students and parents . The man, whose grand-daughter was also studying in the school, arrived in his crisp dhoti-kurta and spoke in his inimitable quick witted style. The content of his speech I do not remember much but he ended saying he was going to the Parliament to prove his majority and jokingly said that he may no longer be the PM by the end of the day. After the speech, my wife and I saw some good food kept in the school lawns and thinking it was for all assembled there, we walked in and picked up the plates. Soon we found the Prime Minister joining us along with some senior teachers but found something amiss…there were no other parents in the lawn. We said Namaste to the PM and quickly made a hasty retreat in total embarrassment! Vajpayee, that evening, put in his resignation to the President of India leading to fresh elections.

Some time passed and Vajpayee ji once again became Prime Minister for the second time. He went ahead with the nuclear tests Pokharan II which made us all proud of our country and its achievement. It was the autumn of 1998 and Durga Puja was round the corner. My daughter each year would participate in the fancy dress competitions organised by various Durga Puja Samitis in CR Park, the Bong homeland at Delhi. I decided to dress her up as Atal Bihari Vajpayee, the icon of the year. She acted well and also delivered the funny lines I made her memorise in the style that was so unique to the Late PM and won accolades. Many wondered how I managed to dress a little girl in my Kashmiri Nehru Jacket and my dad’s dhoti to look like the revered statesman….little did they know that a father had taken half day leave from office to come home and worked overtime to stitch the jacket from within to shorten it by almost seventy five percent of the original size.

As I was reminiscing, the flag which was flying high at midnight was now at half-mast. Next morning newspapers carried these oft quoted lines from the pen of the man who had just been laid to rest.

गीत नया गाता हूं

टूटे हुए तारों से फूटे बासंती स्वर
पत्थर की छाती मे उग आया नव अंकुर
झरे सब पीले पात कोयल की कुहुक रात

प्राची मे अरुणिम की रेख देख पता हूं
गीत नया गाता हूं

टूटे हुए सपनों की कौन सुने सिसकी
अन्तर की चीर व्यथा पलकों पर ठिठकी
हार नहीं मानूंगा, रार नहीं ठानूंगा,

काल के कपाल पे लिखता मिटाता हूं
गीत नया गाता हूं

SS