Signal Todla!

Got out of the office kinda late today. Had that feeling you get,when you put in a full day's work and also leave after normal work hours. Then climb down stairs,jacket, scarf ... set going on the bike. First signal, second and then.. whistle and a tall policeman stopped me from moving further. Helloo! What did I do man...
Oh Jeez, broke the signal, it seems. Why didnt I notice eh?
Well you see, one doesnt always notice the signal does one? In fact, given the traffic, its sometimes not even visible. So then you just go along with the fellow riders and drivers. Precisely what I did. And thus all four of us, me and the others riders whom i was letting myself be guided by, also rode along the 'orange' signal, were stopped. Keys snatched, licence asked for.
The daze, when something unexpected and not very nice, suddenly happens. Thankfully, I am not that intimidated by policemen as most of us are likely to be. Having interacted with them and even ridden in a police van gives me an edge I guess (Why I rode in a police van, thats another story BUT the important point is, I DID NOTHING ILLEGAL!! )

So the tall policeman then asked if I've got PUC (pollution certificate). Yes I did. 'Why can't you stop for a bit? (rhetorical question, no answer expected) If someone knocks you over, spare parts dont come by easily.' 'Yes you have a point.' I said that in my head.
Then,' You have to go to the Station at the next signal, with this slip and pay up a 100 bucks.' 'Why can't I pay right here?' ' You won't get a receipt then'
Ahh! Pay policeman, save time and petrol, get going and.. erm increase corruption!
Take slip, go to the signal, find station, pay up, u turn, retrieve licence, u turn, head home. Option choosen!
As I entered the police station, there was a sudden gnawing at my leg. Out of nowhere, a dog had appreared and was attempting to bite me! Wow, guess I wasnt feeling the impact of my wrong doing, and hence a reminder in animal form. Point taken! Got receipt, retreived licence.

Lesson learnt- Listening to music while riding a bike may lead to a dog bite..... Oh! Forgot to mention, I'd plugged in my I-pod and was humming 'Tauba tera Jalwa, tauba tera pyaar..tera emotional atyachaar', just before the whistle blew!

Sharmila's Fasting!

Irom Sharmila is a Manipuri lady and she is fasting. Aamaran Uposhan (fasting until death). I heard of her a few years ago, amidst reports of various protests against the Armed Forces Special Powers Act. And then she slipped out of my mind. Protests keep happening here and there, its a large and diverse country after all.

The Armed Forces Special Powers Act (AFSPA) gives the armed forces powers to arrest, beat or kill anyone anywhere without so much as a warrant or a paper written about it. No questions asked. An emergency measure adopted in 1958 to tackle insurgency in specific areas of the country.
I shall refrain from giving accounts of the horrible crimes against innocent 'Indians' who are victims of this state sponsored violence, which is meant to protect them! Why this law? Well the seperatist forces in these areas need to be curbed you see, so its ok to kill, beat, rape and loot in the process. What will happen if unpatriotic rebels are not controlled? Well, that purpose isnt being exactly served either. However,in 2004 it forced the women of Manipur to take extreme steps like protest stark naked with only a banner saying 'Indian Army Rape Us', a desperate act to protest against this denial to justice.

Sharmila is still fasting! Fasting for the last ten years, right after she first decided to fast until the law was repealed. Ten years how? Well the police arrest her periodically when she becomes weak and then force feed her. Even her hands are tied lest she takes the tubes out of her body. The lady remains undaunted. The minute she is released, the fasting is on! Ten years of non-violent protest, in the hope that one day, things will change...

A group from Kerala is moving towards Imphal, to show their solidarity to Irom Sharmila. They are visiting Bangalore, Chennai, Vijaywada, Pune, Bhopal, Delhi, Kolkata, Guwahati on their way to Imphal; to tell people of the suffering of our fellow citizens.To let peple know there is some such thing happening amidst our own country. They were in Pune on the 16th of May. Sharmila was brought to life, in Malyali and then in Hindi/ English, to speak of her life, of being a north-eastern, of living under constant fear, of the lovely lands and the woeful circumstances. She posed many questions... Do we recognise the north- easterns as Indians? Is there any mention of a Manipuri, Naga or Assamese Freedom figheter in our history texts? Of their rich culture? Do we know about the lack of development in the region? Do you know that there isnt a train from Delhi to Imphal?
I didnt!

One sunny winter noon....

I was sitting under the shade of a tree. There was only one with ample shade to sit under on the long winding undulating road from Jhilmila to Pathariya, two villages in Dindori, Madhya Pradesh. Although it was winter, noontime sun was showing little mercy and I’d stopped to catch my breath. A wrinkled old man saw me and walked up to the tree. He was stooping slightly with age, was dressed in a dhoti, a sleeveless black vest and had a copper plate in his hand. I greeted him, as is the custom in the villages.

‘Where are you from?’ he asked. ‘Amarpur’ I replied, naming the village I was living in at that time. ‘So are you here for work? What do you do?’ I explained that I work for an organisation, non –governmental, which organises women into self-help groups and so on. ‘So how much do you get? A thousand, eh?’ ‘A little more, enough to get by’, said I. He approved of that and then some more queries followed. Do you have co-workers? Do you know which buses go to Amarpur? Do you always roam around alone like this? Yes, yes, mostly dada..... It was a leisurely conversation between complete strangers, indeed there is no similarity between him and me. I was enjoying his company and I’ll humour myself, maybe it was the other way round too! Then, ‘How much do these shoes cost?’ Having spent more than 6 months in the district, I could understand local dialect to a great extent, but the question caught me off guard. I actually looked at my feet to check what I was wearing. White Reeboks! A gift from well meaning parents who do not know what I think about white shoes and they insisted that I carry them to MP. Since they were letting me go alone at that time, I was obliging to all the rest. When it got really cold, I started wearing them too. Honestly, I didn’t know how much they cost and definitely, it was more than the 1500 odd rupees which was what he must’ve assumed my salary was!! I felt really ridiculous at that point in time and different reasons occur every time I revisit the memory. ‘Kuch 500 ke aas paas’ was my hesitant answer.

My turn, dada where are you from? Pathariya and the exact location of his house in the village was described. He then looked at his empty plate and asked, ‘have you had food?’ On hearing a negative answer, he said ‘You are walking around for these women and they don’t even feed you! Hurry to the village and tell them to give you some rice. How can you work without a meal in your stomach?’ I smiled, and he did too.
He was grazing his goats again when I returned next morning after staying overnight in Jhilmila. I waved and he waved back. ‘Have you eaten?’ he called out. ‘Yes, I have’!!

Handpump and lessons about life

I am in Himachal Pradesh, in Jagjitnagar, Solan district. Living in the midst of hills... and water isn’t at easy disposal here.

Now that’s where the hand pump comes in.. its located like 10 steps away from where the campus of the SUTRA (Social Uplift Through Rural Action), the organisation where I am interning and staying. Now here’s the catch.. One would expect that when u pump, water comes out, coz that's how it normally works right?! But the deal here is that this pump doesn’t oblige to all the pumping and only yields when the person pumping is pure in his/her intent.. nah! I’m just kidding. So here’s lesson one- perseverance. One has to pump for at least a good 20 mins before signs of the precious liquid are visible, on good days. On others, by the time you’ve filled a bucket, you have no energy left even to bathe.

Now I get up and head to the hand pump for a mug of water to brush my teeth. Here i meet a young boy living nearby, a school going kid who’s in his early teens. He generally is sitting there with a can or two for the family’s morning chores, i guess. I don’t know his name, we do no small talk but there is what can be called ‘hand pump camaraderie’ between us. The first time I encountered him; he was sitting there and seemed to be waiting. Lesson two-patience! The boy knows that after a certain volume, one can only draw out water after waiting for a while. Save the effort and wait.

Lesson three- kindness towards the less able. In the current scenario, that's me! This little kid from the Badoh village is kind enough to let me have a go at the hand pump when he deems that it’ll yield. Yes, even when he has been waiting there before I appear with my tooth brush and bucket. Even when I , as an outsider, am encroaching on the resource is which is scarce in these hills.He has enough insight to realise that this girl can only about manage to pump out a bucket if the conditions are most favourable. And the girl is much grateful to him. So when I step out of the bed and reluctantly leave the warmth of the blanket, the hand pump provides the necessary support.. pump away pump away... water for starting another day! And last but not the least, lesson four- making do with the least! Yeah its real cold here alright and one can very well sit in the land of taps and water heaters and judge me, but bathing alternate days saves a lot of water and... erm effort!