Azadi Memoirs

Having lived almost sixty of the seventy-five years of Independence, I look back at some defining moments of our country’s history and how each one of them impacted me as a human being. Since in the sixties, I was way too small to understand the events, I have picked an event from each of the remaining five decades.

70s and Nepal- Pakistan-Bangladesh-India

No, this is not a lesson in geography. East Pakistan was in turmoil and the Indian Army had rolled into the eastern part to support Mukti-Bahini in the liberation of the Bengali speaking part of Pakistan. My father got a letter which said that his nephew, Nepal, would be reaching Calcutta from Dhaka by train. Dad quickly got in touch with one of his relatives in Calcutta who arranged for his shelter for a few days. He was then put on board a train for Delhi where I was busy with my friends digging mud trenches to hide just in case the Pakistani planes were to drop bombs over us. Others at home were sticking black paper on glass panes so that we could put the lights on at night even after the blackout siren had been hooted. In short, it was good fun being young and at war.

Nepal da came to our house and we soon became good friends even though he was about twenty years older than me. Eventually, India won the war on both the eastern and the western fronts and pictures of the historic surrender on the front pages meant the creation of a new nation called Bangladesh. Patriotic fervour was at its peak and Ma would always take Nepal da with her to markets where she would ask the shopkeepers, including vegetable vendors, to give discount for the refugee and simple people never disappointed her even though we all felt amused and embarrassed at the same time. Things settled down and the new nation beckoned the people who had fled the war. Nepal da wanted to stay back in India but Baba insisted that he return as all his educational degrees were from there and getting a job would be easier there rather than starting a new process here in India. Ma went one last time to the market with a box to collect funds for Nepal da that he may need for his re-settlement in his new world. I do not remember how much she collected but surely it saw to Nepal da’s return home. Nepal da kept in touch for some time with Baba and then it went all quiet. Last we heard, he was married and working in the External Affairs Ministry at Dhaka. It is now over half a century since we last met but I now long to find him and his family one more time.

80s and Blue Star- Assassination- Shaking Earth Riots

In the early June of ‘84, the Indian Army launched Operation Blue Star to remove Sikh militants led by Jarnail Singh Bhindrewale from the Golden Temple. Pictures of the aftermath with bullet holes in the sacred precincts are still vivid in the minds of many countrymen who had been living in a state of militant terrorism and secession.  But then there was a small section of Indians who felt their revered Harmindar Sahib had been desecrated and their hearts were filled with hatred that culminated in the assassination of the then Prime Minister, Mrs. Indira Gandhi, on 31^st October ’84.  What followed next was mayhem of the worst kind, possibly, last seen during the partition of ’47.

Our house was on third floor and next morning some of us went to the terrace to see Delhi’s skyline covered with black smoke as far as the eyes could see. Despite Baba’s vehement opposition, I carried my bicycle down the staircase to move around the government colony and nearby places along with friends watching mobsters burning vehicles, shops and moving around freely without any fear of the law-makers. After all a big tree had fallen, the earth was bound to shake- this was the justification given by some for the horrors on the streets of Delhi and other parts of the country targeting a section of people. By evening, people in the colony got together to form vigilante groups to keep an eye for any untoward activity and preventing the mobsters from entering our area and targeting Sikh families living there. I put on an army shirt Ma had got me from the office with nice big pockets on both sides and shoulder flaps, and with a torch in one hand and a wooden baton in another, out I went to join the others. There was a sense of pride in believing you were the sole guardian of humanity.

Our next-door neighbours were the Gills who we had been living with for over twelve years peacefully. They were possibly the gentlest Sikhs we had ever met.With the news of Sikhs being tortured and killed in various parts of the country pouring in through newspapers and television bulletins, Ma asked the Gill couple to come and live in our house. Reluctantly, they came with nothing in hand except a photo album. At night when I went to their room, the old couple were flipping through the pages of the family album with pictures of their children and grandchildren who now lived elsewhere. The lady looked at me and wiped a tear from her eyes as she reluctantly took the food plate in her shaking hand. In the face of brutality happening around, it was not the earth that shook but my faith in humanity.

90s and Demolition- Walkathon- Schism-Love

It was a nice happy weekend with D and little M going off to my in-laws’ place,leaving me to have a ball of a time with friends in Salt Lake, Calcutta. It meant having good food, gossip and night long video movies that we hired from a nearby library. On Sunday, the 6^th of December ‘92, the news came that the Babri Masjid at Ayodhya had been demolished and riots had broken out in many parts of the country. The governments in most states had declared curfew and holiday the next day. People were asked to stay indoors and maintain calm. Calcutta, with a sizeable population of both communities, had seen the worst of human tragedies when the country had been partitioned and it took Gandhiji to go on a complete hunger strike to bring the two warring factions to declare peace.

I longed to see my little one. Despite the protests from my friends asking me not to venture out, with little money in my back pocket and slippers on feet, I set out on a long walk to Barasat, my very own Dandi March. It was a journey of eighteen plus kilometres. With no trucks or buses plying and a handful of people on the street, I kept walking on and on, always keeping an eye for any sign of danger. At a couple of points, the armed policemen asked me to return home and I somehow convinced them that I was going back home on a personal emergency and had to definitely go ahead. They cautioned me but were nice to let me continue. Calcutta weather in early December is not Delhi where the air is chilly. Here, the sun beats down at over 35 degrees during the day and walking with zero hydration and rest could be challenging for others but not for one who longed to see the love of his life. It took me over three hours to reach my destination where my little one was playing with Ike, the Doberman, in the garden. The moment she saw me standing at the gate, the toddler started running and so did Ike. I opened the gate and took her in my arms and Ike kept jumping in joy, maybe he too wanted me to lift him in my arms. I forgot the pain of blisters on my feet and the thirst in my throat to see this unbound love around.

Those who demolished in 1992 kept on their path of re-writing history and finding new archaeological and textual evidences, while I found love and a new spirit of taking long walks that culminated in me, challenging my body and age to successfully complete two marathons in Mumbai twenty-three years later.

00s- Deluge- Lost- Alone

The phone rang…it was all dark and I saw the time…it was 3.00am…who’s calling at this hour?

Mejo Mama read the phone screen.

Hello…hope all of you are safe?

Why, what happened? I am in London now.

We saw in the news that Mumbai has had torrential rains and so we were checking if all of you are safe. We were worried about you all.

Mama, I know nothing about it. Let me speak to D and call you back. Thanks.

Before making the call, I switched on the television in the hotel room which was showing Mumbai under water and tragedy everywhere. A thousand millimetres of rain in a cloud burst in a single day!

I dialled D’s number a couple of times, but there was no response…no signal. Then I dialled the home landline number and the response was the same.I kept trying but the blank response on the other side told me the same story over and over again…all had come to a halt…the city…the people…the world.

Back home that dreadful day of 26^th July 2005, D was returning from work when the train stalled mid-way close to Mahim. She then started walking on the flooded railway line along with other passengers. Walking in almost waist deep water without any clue of road or drain below for hours together, she slowly inched her way till about a kilometre from home. The phone battery had died, the signal had been lost for many hours anyway. The BMC people asked her and many others not to venture any further as an electric wire had snapped and also the current in the water would sweep people away. D, along with other stranded people, was taken to a school in Andheri where they were offered some biscuits and water and asked to rest for the night. At home, M was alone as her mom could no longer be contacted. My mother who was sick was quite oblivious of the tragedy that was happening and kept asking M why D was not home.  Next morning,before daylight broke, D stepped out of the night shelter and walked home through flooded streets. Joy returned home and then after charging the phone she made a call to me…she was home safe, finally.

Next afternoon, I flew back home and brought with me a gift for D…she always wanted a nice strong English umbrella…I handed the smart gift knowing fully well that in case of another cloud burst, she would have to open my gift upside down to make itlook like a boat and sit atop it to sail home. Since that fateful day,the only thing Mumbaikars fear is paus…a red flag by Met Department is the green signal for them to rush home to safety.

Noah's New Ark

Next Decade- Dance of Death- Survivors

The euphoria of family and friends coming together to celebrate the joyous occasion of M’s wedding had just about settled down with all the guests from the country and abroad reaching home safely when the dance of death began…first it was slow and gentle steps and then the beats got faster and frenzier till hospitals had no beds left to give and makeshift ICUs came up at people’s homes. COVID had struck the world and on 24^th of March 2020, a total countrywide shut down was ordered. Roads became deserted, shops and establishments shut, with transportation almost off the roads and hordes of jobless men and women with their families started their long walk home. We had never seen or experienced death at such close proximity. Earlier, we had heard of ailments where people died in different shores but now you got regular news of the demise of friends, colleagues and family in your vicinity. Death was not discriminating against the rich and the poor, old and young, sick and healthy…it stung with its venom sweeping everything in its path. Where it came from, how it spread, what could halt its spread, baffled the world.

The pandemic did many things bad and left us all sad but it taught us a few good lessons… to be grateful for what you have- you do not need too much to survive- a roof over the head, some clothes to cover yourself and some simple food for life…thoda hai, thode ki zaroorathai! Staying close to family and friends is the other lesson learnt- hold them tight, hug them while they are around for you never know whether you will get another chance to do it.  Finally you re-learnt to pray…atheist, communist, rightist and all, we prayed every day, every moment for survival. To fight the Enemy Unknown, we turned to Seen Saviour in white apron and the Unseen Saviour for good health and safety. And then by the year end came the magic prick and we survived and rolled into another decade to celebrate the Mahotsav of Life.

Jai Hind!

SS

10 Things I Hate About U-SA

Dear Diary

The year has been full of fun, adventure, surprise, love, and laughter. And the laughter has also been because of small incidents which were extremely frustrating and incredulous in the USA and I thought I would write about those today. The following observations are very personal views of an Indian student with malice to none. For those who will happen to peek into this diary, take it with a pinch of salt. 

1.     MMDDYY

I am sure all of you would have faced the initial hiccup of trying to adapt to the American date system. Yes, 9/11 did introduce most of us to the concept but using the system daily is a task, especially if all your documentation requires a date, like in my case, a doctor’s office. April 8^th can become August 4^th if you forget the order and the implications for both a patient and doctor would be obvious to all. I, for one, had to change the settings in my excel and numbers to ensure that the data entered had the USA format when I realized that the auto calculation of age and follow up period was suddenly coming up with negative values!

2. Casting the Wrong Spell and Choosing Sides

You write ‘Color’, I write ‘Colour’, you write ‘Tumor’, I write ‘Tumour’, you write ‘realize’, I write ‘realise’ because I have been doing that for the last 28 years of my life! I cannot suddenly usurp the Us or sleep away my Ss with Zzzz. The most irritating part, however, is the squiggly red line that comes on all your documents, recognizing the spelling as wrong! It is NOT wrong; it is technically the correct spelling that they have decided to be too tough for them to remember!

The next one is more ‘smirky smile’ experience than a truly frustrating one. Yes, the driver’s seat is on the left, but for someone who did not have to drive there, it hardly made any difference. But in America, it is not just the driving side that is flipped. The switches are flipped- what was on for you is actually off there. When you pick up a hole punch to punch two holes in your paper, remember to put the paper in from the other side because, yes, they have even flipped the sides for this simple object!

Talking about sides, Americans do not use even the SI units that is universally followed throughout the world. The km become miles, and the kg become pounds...you get the gist. If converting dollars to rupees and vice versa was not enough, you must now convert the pounds of chicken you are buying to figure out if the quantity matches the requirement of the Indian recipe your mother has just sent!

One World Trade Centre, New York

3. Hi! How are you?

It is amusing how every single person, known, unknown, will greet you with "Hi! How are you?” But none wait for your reply. You open your mouth to say something, but either they are already gone or moved on to a different topic! I really do appreciate the politeness, but what if I am not fine? Or I would like to ask how you are doing?

4.   Options Galore

The options available in the stores can be both wonderful and woeful. You make a list of things to buy, say cheese, bread, eggs, tomatoes, onion, coffee, chocolate, and ice-cream. Now add to this, 20 options for each of these! I must have probably decided on my wedding clothes faster than the type of cheese I would want for that week. One thing is for sure, you will become quite decisive by the time you return from America!

5. Be Specific with only 3 letter words

Yes, we all know that Starbucks will not spell your name correctly and having made multiple attempts I just decided to stick to MRI for Starbucks. I once had to go to the post office to make a money order for making my rent payment. Again, it was strange that they were not willing to accept online transfer of funds. I went a day in advance to find out the documents I would require. I specified the amount, and very clearly asked if they would accept credit card and what kind of identification proof I would require. The person at the counter told me and I returned the next morning with the necessary details and papers. But now of course, with a larger amount, they would need my social security card! When I told him that I was not asked to bring it, he simply said that I had not asked about it! As I walked back to get the slip of paper, I realised for the first time that you have to be very specific and preferably ask ‘Yes’, ‘No’ or ‘OK’ type of direct questions! Speak slowly and follow the order that they know, even when placing an order in a restaurant. We once went for lunch and after placing the order, we asked “Could you please bring the fries first, we are really hungry.” After almost 45 minutes, when we could not fathom the reason for the delay, we asked what was taking so long. In the most matter of fact manner, she replied, “Oh would you like me to bring your sandwiches? They have been ready for a while. I was just waiting for the fries to get done because you wanted that first!”

Washington Monument through Cherry Blossoms, Washington DC

6. Race to the Finish, but Ignorance is Power

Diversity exists and for most parts the culture is inclusive. But racism does slip out, once in a while, in the most inadvertent manner. It is unnerving when they make statements like, “Oh you have buildings in your country?” or “Do you know what a hot dog is?”. Yes, we, the citizens of developing countries, do, and I am surprised you are not aware of it. A neighbour was once having trouble with his Wifi connection in our residential building and had contacted the University IT department. He handed the phone to me because the customer service person wanted to know if I was able to connect to Wifi and my university ID. As I was searching for the details I said, “Give me a minute, let me look it up. Although I am not sure if the WiFi is working for me because at the moment I am just using my network data.” I was shocked to receive the reply, “Just give me your ID. Why don’t you Indians just follow the instructions?” I very firmly pointed it out and did receive multiple apologies, but these small incidents do make you wonder where we are in the 21st Century.

Being ignorant and believing that the knowledge you have is ultimate, is the biggest weapon that you can wield! And Americans have abundance of it. Surprisingly, they have little interest or awareness of cultures, people, places and practices outside their own state or country. Simple acts, especially during interactions with patients, in department stores and even airline crew make you realise the confidence despite the dearth of awareness. I went to buy a suitcase to bring back the stuff I had bought in America. I asked the staff, “Could you tell me the dimensions of this suitcase?” After a good 30 seconds, he replied, “Do you want to know the price?” “No, the dimensions.” After another 30 seconds, he disappeared and came back with a senior. I repeated my query, “Why do you want to know the dimensions?” “I need it to make sure I meet the specifications of the airline.” “Which airline asks for that? I travel all the time, nobody has ever asked me for the dimensions.” I calmly replied that airlines specify, especially international flights. “It’s small, medium, or large. Which one do you want?” I realized I should come back with a measuring tape or conduct a search of the suitcase myself to find the written measurements. Finally, I did find one which had the measurements mentioned in the tag.

The skyscrapers along Chicago River, Chicago

7. Indians in America

It is funny when you interact with newly arrived Indians in America. They want to live there permanently, but they look down upon their own people and become judgemental. I was staying in the University campus and there was a common kitchen on our floor. It was good to interact with others occasionally. “You have already become American. Having bread and cereal for breakfast.” “You listen to only English music.” “She comes back late, she roams around by herself.” I did try to explain the initial few times, but later, would just smile and let things be. I would make the same breakfast and listen to same music even in India, America did not do that to me. I look to make things which are simple and quick. I listen to Hindi, Pakistani, English and Spanish music. Yes, I like to go to different places and am confident enough to do that alone, it is who I am, not what America has made me.

8. Find a Ride

I have seen four major cities in America on foot, Philadelphia, New York, Chicago, and Washington DC. Walked 17-23km in a day, got heavily tanned, much to my mother’s anguish, and enjoyed all sights and sounds thoroughly. I have travelled by Septa, Patco, Amtrak, Megabus, New York Subway, Metra, United and American Airlines. But very honestly, public transport is really not great in America. For people without their own car, a lot of places become inaccessible which is not the case in UK, Europe or South East Asia. 

City Hall, Philadelphia

9. Push the Panic button

Nearly 80%, if not 90%, of the patients mark anxiety and depression as their existing medical problems. Almost every patient expects or wants narcotics as pain killer. While these issues are known to most and it also shows the awareness of mental health problems in the country, having worked here, I realised that the threshold for stress and panic is extremely low! Minor things can trigger ‘stress’ among people. If you ask somebody to do more than one thing at a time, panic and anxiety are bound to result. It may be the way we have been conditioned here, but we are definitely better equipped to handle the ‘stress’. 

10. Gun-de,

“Don’t go anywhere. Just your hospital and the airport to come back home.” This was the response I got on the night of 4^th of July. Some of us had gone to the Benjamin Franklin Parkway to see the fireworks. We saw the Jason Derulo concert from a distance and, finally, made our way to the middle of the street to see the fireworks against the backdrop of the Philadelphia Museum of Arts. Five minutes into the display and the crowd suddenly started running madly. Unaware of what was happening, we also ran to make our way out of the crowd and chaos. We got separated and made are way back home alone. Later, we came to know that two police officers had been shot at. How do you not go to a supermarket or a mall? How do you not send your kids to school? How do you not celebrate a festival? These are questions that I believe even the Americans are waiting for an answer. 

I am grateful for the experience, I learnt a lot and I do not regret a single minute. But these were all part of the same experience and so deserve a mention. The fact that our group was a diverse lot, from India, Colombia and England, the non-Americans added to the fun of the moment.

Like we all fell in love with Patrick Verona, I, too, fell in love with America and most of all, its wonderful people!

In Kat’s own words,

“But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you, 
Not even close, 
Not even a little bit, 
Not even at all”

Love

MS

Pictured Rocks on Lake Superior, Michigan