musings: And they lived happily ever after.

musings: And they lived happily ever after.

Catch them young!

Catch them young!

There is a story of a Sufi saint who embraced Sufism at a very early age. When he was a child, his mother wanted some fuel to light the chulha to cook food and requested her 5 year old to get some firewood. The lad set out in the woods nearby and brought a large log of wood all the way dragging to his house. “Ammi, here is the wood’ When his mother saw it, she said, ‘My child, this is too big for the chulha’

‘I know Ammi but why bother to bring several small twigs and splinters, which would take more of your time. So I thought better to bring a big one at one go, so that you have enough firewood for the day’.

The mother laughed amusingly. ‘On the contrary, my child, besides the fact that it will take too long to burn, there will be too much smoke everywhere. Go and fetch smaller twigs so that they burn well, give enough fire for cooking and there is not much smoke’

 The mother was narrating the practicalities of life but left a thought trail in the child’s mind. As he went to fetch firewood he thought to himself, ‘Just like the twigs, I am also small now and so could easily be possible to draw closer to God and to more fully embrace the Divine Presence. Once I grow big then I will be like the fire log, full of smoke. Like the smoke I will be filled with negativities. Then I will have to first get rid of the smoke through repentance from sin, the purging of contemptible qualities and evil traits of character, and its only then that I will be able to ignite the fire within - connect with my true inner nature and the Lord’ No sooner did this realization dawn on the little child, he left the stack of wood at the doorstep of his house and left in search of God only to later emerge as a Sufi saint.

How true it is! Whatever we do in the childhood becomes the bedrock of our later life. I remember once while chatting with my sister, she happened to say that making rotis is so easy while it took very long to learn bhakris. She  reflected that as children we always used to vie for making chapatis and mom used to leave some flour for both of us .The rotis then used to end up in varied maps of India but what we learnt then , we never forgot in our later lives. We had no such opportunity with bhakris and so they continue to pose a challenge even today. Or for that matter , my mother in law who is known for wonderfully soft, delicate  & thin bhakris had told me how at the tender age of twelve, she had to cook for her father as her mother had died very early and there was no one else to cook in the house. Her father ungrudgingly used to eat whichever way the bhakri was made. The lessons learnt in those tender years helped her to graduate into the making the most lovely bhakris that I have ever eaten.

Then there was Saru – never attended college or lectures. At about two months before exams, she used to ask us the portion and then Saru was a regular fixture at the library. She used to literally start at page 1 and we all used to wonder how she would be managing all the subjects, in such a short time only to find her name topping the result sheet displayed on the notice board – a la the 3 Idiots fame Rancchoddas Shamaldas Chanchad ‘Rancho’.

As children, we were never allowed to spend summer or winter vacations without some definite activity. We could pursue anything – embroidery, crochet, reading books,  just anything in the afternoon (no going out in the sun). Only then were we allowed to go for playing in the evening.  We used to so much love to play carom or playing cards instead. All that was allowed only after we had invested some time in reading or such other activity. It helped us to mould ourselves into a value system that made me fearless towards any dogmas and as we grew up we developed a tendency to free thinking unfettered by any superstitious allegiance to any isms, political or religious. I could improve upon my handwriting and started writing in running script only due to these indulgences in vacation. We never realized the value then but now hold us in good steed.  

Then there was a demon called Mathematics in our tiny lives and later the same demon revisited our house when my children were growing up. The seers say that mother is ‘Pratham Guru’  but to tackle this demon I was fortunate to have two: Aai and Somankaka. The invincible riders in geometry, the cos, sin & tan of trigonometry and yes who can forget the derivatives & integration of the calculus….all these fangs of the multi-hooded cobra called Mathematics were demolished by these two gurus who worked so selflessly to enable me to overcome the numeric horror so much so that by the time I reached college I had in fact learnt to take over these challenges to a stage that more difficult the sum the greater the kick in solving it.. Then years rolled by and one day I saw the same fear in my daughter’s eyes. She was wailing that she could not manage Maths. It was then that I told her to approach Maths on a horse back like Jhansi ki Rani rather than a fearful mouse. ‘It is only then that you will be able to overcome the fear?’ I told her. (Self experience, you see) ‘But how to ride, Ma’ There was an astounded look in her eyes.  ‘You will see’ I had told her then and almost everyday we solved sums for two hours. She was in 6^th standard then and the same girl who wept in class as she could not answer the Maths teacher’s question then, bagged 98/100 in her Board exams.

As they say – it’s all in the mind. Powerful that it is, it can be the worst enemy as well as the best friend. Choice is yours.

Anagha Hunnurkar

September 24, 2011

And they lived happily ever after.

And they lived happily ever after.

The bright Sun shone majestically in the sky and after a long time Mumbai got respite from the rains. Mumbaikars were so used to the cloudy gloomy sky for the last four months that a clear sky was a welcome sight. A perfect time for a short picnic, Arnav announced as he came back from his morning walk. Purba’s face lit up. Wow! What a wonderful way to spend a Sunday.

‘Let me quickly prepare the picnic basket’ chirped Purba delightfully.

‘Don’t bother dear, we will just eat in the hotel’-Arnav

‘No way! Kids would fall sick and then the joy of the picnic would be all lost if they miss school’ –Purba

Arnav shrugged his shoulders and left the decision to his wife. ‘Would you please ready the kids, Arnav?’

‘No no, I want to check on the car and besides before leaving I want to make a few phone calls. Darling, you are so good with all these things, please you manage.’ Arnav carefully worded his response but Purba was not naïve – she got the message loud and clear. At the same time she knew that the earlier they wrap up, longer could they have time for a day out.

As she scurried to the kitchen, she paused for starting the washing machine on the way. While busy at it she mentally decided the menu – sandwiches, aloo paratha, curd rice. At the kitchen platform, she put the potatoes & rice in the cooker on one side, she started making preparation for chatni, took the butter from the fridge and got on to the job at hand.

‘A cup of coffee darling’ Arnav hollered from the drawing room. Purba wiped the sweat off her brow. She did not want to tip the apple cart and quietly got on to put the milk to boil on the gas stove.

‘Kajal darling, wake up dear. Papa is taking us for a picnic’ She bellowed from the kitchen. No time to go to childrens’ room and wake her up she thought to herself. But Kajal was a smart kid. She refused to get up at such wake up calls, that too on a Sunday and just tossed herself from one side to other and merrily continued to sleep. After many trials finally Purba had to give up and went to the bedroom to wake up Kajal. While leaving the kitchen she made sure that the coffee was served, the potatoes were cut into halves, ready for peeling and the rice was spread to cool. As she entered the childrens’ bedroom she paused – O what a wonderful sight. Kajal and little Chotu were both in deep sleep and looked so very innocent. She nudged Kajal, kissed her on the forehead and beckoned her to wake up. The faster that they got ready, the earlier they could leave, she convinced the seven year old. ‘My darling angel, go and brush, I have made semia upma for you.’ Kajal jumped out of the bed at the mention of her favorite dish and Purba was back in the kitchen.

While Kajal was having her breakfast Chotu also woke up and toddled to the kitchen. ‘Mummy pick me up ’ he kept urging to Purba. ‘Kajal dear take care of your little brother’

 ‘Why should I mommy – he is such a pest’-Kajal ‘No beta, he is your little brother, the apple of your eye’ urged Purba

‘Hmph, he is rather the worm in the apple’ the witty girl responded.

‘Don’t say that darling. He is God’s gift to you’ –Purba

‘But mommy I asked for a little sister and when I realized that God is not giving , then I prayed for a puppy – not this fellow’ –Kajal.

Purba did not know to laugh or cry. Here she was busy and there the little one needed attention. Arnav had already left to check on the car. She lifted the baby and while holding him in one arm, continued to cook with the other. She kissed Chotu on the cheek. Chotu was now comfortable. In this entire milieu the washing machine was ready with washed clothes. She hurriedly went to the washroom, brushed Chotu’s teeth and lifted the clothes from the washing machine into the bucket. Ready for the maid to hang them on the clothesline.  She quickly mixed some milk with the upma in a bowl and settled Chotu at the dining table for the breakfast. In the meantime she told Kajal to go for bath and get ready.

Before going back to the kitchen she quickly went to the wardrobe to take out the clothes for the children and herself. She was literally fighting against time, she thought. The Goddess Durga with eight arms now made sense to her. Surely the Goddess could not have managed to take care of the world with just two arms? She thought to herself.

Purba so much needed help. Initially, she had tried very hard to get a full time maid but was not easy. She had to let do with a top servant and had finally resigned to take on the domestic responsibilities along with her job. Irritated initially, she realized that the family ties were much stronger as the kids loved her food and valued the time she spent with them.

By and by the family was ready for the day. As the car sped through the beautiful countryside Purba sitting in the front seat besides Arnav, had a satisfied happy existence, with soft music floating in the air.  The children were chirping on the back seat. ‘Momma see that bird’ ‘Papa , the AC is not coming behind’ etc etc.

She then realized that while every fairy tale had a happy ending, in real life someone has to toil for a happy ending.  

Anagha Hunnurkar

18^th September 2011.

Harry Potter & Tales of Krishna

Harry Potter & Tales of Krishna

Saturday afternoon, soft rain pattering on the window sill and a hot cuppa of freshly brewed coffee with a lovely book to read – a perfect picture of peace and serenity. As I was prying through my books to pick up the right one, the TV in the drawing room caught my attention as Ajay Devgan was belting fiery dialogues in high decibels. The movie in question was ‘Singham’ – a 2011 Hindi remake of Tamil film. It had the makings of a normal masala film a la Janjeer or Don of the 70’s & 80’s that gave Amitabh Bachhan the image of a angry young man. The film is centered around  Bajirao Singham (Ajay Devgan) a brave and honest policeman with fire in his belly,  all set to ‘serve his nation’ in a police vardi. The story winds itself through known course of   high-voltage stunts, slow-motion action cuts and larger-than-life powerful action-emotional drama. 

As I was watching the stunts, I was also reminded of a different type of action packed suspense movie –Air Force One. Was wondering – what is it in them,  that these movies command such immense repeat value? These films are loved by the masses and the classes, the men and the women, the young and the old, the rich and the poor alike. Singham is the kind of film which keeps the viewer glued to the storyline and gives him the solace that there is hope of a fight against corruption! The triumph of good over evil! With spicy dialogues flavored with Marathi clichés, heroism, death-defying action sequences and pulse pounding thrills, no matter how dismissive one might be of films that have no space for shades of grey, such films keep lovers of ‘action packed  potpourri’ engaged. 

A runaway super duper hit that comes to my mind is the character of Harry Potter - a series of seven fantasy novels written by the British author J. K. Rowling. The books chronicle the adventures of the adolescent eleven year old Harry Potter and his best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, all of whom are students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The main story arc concerns Harry's quest to overcome the evil dark wizard Lord Voldemort, whose aim is to subjugate non-magical people, conquer the wizarding world, and destroy all those who stand in his way. As children, we used to be so engrossed in reading Enid Blyton’s Famous Five and Secret Seven books that had similar plots. Never realized when we graduated to James Hadley Chase to Alistair Maclean and later on to Arthur Hailey. 

These books have gained immense popularity, critical acclaim and commercial success worldwide despite some fair share of criticism, including concern for the increasingly dark tone. 

One wonders as to how such unrealistic images and scenes appeal to the public eye when to a logical mind, this all sound superfluous. Despite knowing fully well that it is ‘old wine in new bottle’ the fantasies portrayed in these stories continue to enjoy public patronage. One gapes at all this with awe and disbelief but a careful review reveals that the mass appeal lies in many aspects that are effectively interwoven in the fabric called story line. 

Let me attempt to enumerate a few:

The famous utterances of Oliver Twist in Charles Dicken’s celebrated novel – ‘Please Sir, can I have some more?’  Is a expression of a meek force that tries to question the established system that tends to suck within itself the weak and fortify the powerful. Is it not the same stirring force that literally churned the nation to support Anna Hazare’s fight against corruption?

An additional interesting aspect of the plot is that the hero is but always coming from very humble background be it Harry Potter or Oliver Twist – both orphans or for that matter Slumdog Millionaire whose main hero is an adolescent from the zhuggis of Mumbai. There is fantasy and a coming of age flavor peppered with elements of mystery, thriller and romance.

One more common thread that these storylines share is that the enemy or the villain of the piece is very mighty and powerful while the hero though weak in terms of resources has a steely will power. The many heroes are symbolic faces of primarily good versus evil, with evil continually trying to corrupt and exploit good, but good winning out in the end.  Apart form the dogged determination, there is a deep suffering that triggers inborn and innate powers that surge forth in defiance, to root out the evil. There is thrill, suspense and drama entwined into a seamless story with a happy ending.

As the hero progressively faces social and emotional situations that give him a setback, he learns to overcome the problems that face him, including even ordinary teenage challenges such as friendships and exams, and the greater test of preparing himself for the confrontation that lies ahead. Many a times all this is portrayed through an effective tool –‘flashback’ 

Interestingly, these characters although imaginary co-exist in and within a known environment: Harry Potter & Oliver Twist in London, Air Force One deals with real life President of USA while Singham is portrayed in Goa. The environment completely separated from reality is intimately connected to it. This leads the reader /viewer to make believe that it can happen just anywhere, anytime or perhaps he also tends to identify himself with the hero. This is not restricted to men alone as women also identify themselves in such backdrops that make a Jhansi ki Rani or ‘Udaan’ based on Kiran Bedi’s biography and many more, runaway hits. By blending fiction to reality it tends to create a fine balance of truism to the larger than life superman type characters. A smooth transformation from real life to reel life and back , so to say.

When one delves deeper one realizes that this is not a recent phenomenon and dates back as early as humanity itself that makes legendary figures from the Ramayana, Mahabharata or even the Bible to live a life of magic, mystery, in born powers etc etc.

Let me take the life of Krishna as a representation of all the mythologies and folklore. Right from  the prophecy that Krishna will be the cause of  his uncle, Kansa’s death upto the point that Krishna is immortalized, the life sketch is a panorama of miracles and larger than life happenings which make the stories endearing even today almost 5000 years later. Be it  the  heroic feat of Vasudeva to take the new born baby Krishna from the prison cell to Nanda’s house, the suckling of the ogress Putana off her life by the infant Krishna, the taming of  the serpent Kaliya who poisoned the Yamuna river,  the lifting of Gowardhan all portray Krishna’s role as a protector of people. 

Lord Krishna advised the people of Vrindavan to take care of their animals and their environment (symbolically the Gowardhan hill) that provide them with all their necessities, instead of worshipping Indra annually by spending their resources. Was this not a spiritual movement started by Lord Krishna which went against the orthodox forms of worship of the Vedic gods such as Indra?

And then there is romance, song & dance too. The stories of his play with the gopis eternally portrayed as ‘raas leela’ in Jayadeva’s Geet Govind and the immortalized worship of Radha Krishna, to this day is a testimony to the captivation around these tales. 

As a young man, Krishna overthrew and killed his maternal uncle, Kansa, after avoiding several assassination attempts from Kansa's followers. He reinstated Kansa's father, Ugrasena, as the king of the Yadavas and became a leading prince at the court – the triumph of good over evil.

The pinnacle of Krishna’s brilliance is the Bhagwad Geeta, which is the bedrock of Hinduism – a way of life and has inspired many thinkers & philosophers to express the  potency of the fathomless epic be it the Dnyaneshwari, Geeta Rahasya, Geetai et all. Shrimad Bhagwad Geeta is a revered text and often described as a concise guide to Hindu theology besides being a practical, self-contained guide to life.

We also have the real life narratives of Chatrapati Shivaji , chronicled by eminent historians like Purandare , which are thrilling, full of valour & determination, and continue to inspire us.

All this reveals just one truth - that the main theme is triumph of life over death and justice over prejudice - irrespective of which cultural backdrop the storyline is based. It is the innate desire to be happy and devoid of suffering on one hand and the actual unhappiness or sorrows that one faces in real life that makes living in a world of fantasy, albeit for a brief time, a need, which is as crucial for the emotional satiation just as air, water, shelter are essential physical needs. 

It’s said that religion is opium for the masses. The success of these stories does reflect the need of some such opium to numb the pain of injustice and  cheating born out of indeterminate discrimination.

While learning to endure, what cannot be cured, these stories give a strong message, hope and solace against adversity. It’s the angst that finds expression .And so their success.

Anagha Hunnurkar

12^th September 2011

शोध

शोध
'अरे मी चष्मा कुठे ठेवला?'

इथे शोध, तिथे शोध. चष्मा  वापरून झाल्यावर अगदी नेटकेपणाने ठेवलेला  चष्मा कधी वेळेला मिळतच नाही. एकदा का तो ब्यागेत गेला की त्या अलीबाबाच्या पोतडीतल्या अनेक कप्प्यातून, कुठल्या कप्प्यात मिळेल  हे काही सांगता येत नाही. भरपूर शोधूनही नाही मिळाला  की आहेच मग इथे बघ अन तिथे बघ.

मग एखादा पोक्त सल्ला 'वेळीच नीट ठेवला की मग असा गोंधळ  होत नाही.'
'अहो, वेळीच नीट ठेवला होता पण आता नाही मिळत आहे 'आधीच चष्मा न मिळाल्यामुळे हैराण झालेले मन अजूनच कावून जाते.


 आपण जर विचार केला तर उमजते  की खरे तर प्रश्न नीट ठेवण्याचा नाहीच आहे.  प्रश्न आहे आठवण्याचा. दिवसभरात आपण इतक्या लहान सहान गोष्टी करत असतो की अनेकदा त्या क्रिया 'reflex action' म्हणून होऊन जातात .त्यामुळे स्मृतीपटलावर त्याची नोंद होत नाही. आणि मग आपण शोधत रहातो -  खरतर आठवत रहातो. माझ्या सासूबाई म्हणायच्या की उजव्या हातानेच नेहमी वस्तू ठेवावी म्हणजे  विसरायला होत नाही.परंतु आपण इतक्या घाईत असतो की वस्तू ठेवताना हे भान राहत नाही.


माझी  एक मैत्रीण, विनोदिनी. तिची नेहमीची सवय की काहीही गोष्ट परत  करताना ती माझ्या हाताला चिमटा काढते. मला तिची ही सवय फार विचित्र वाटायची. पण आता विचार केल्यावर कळते  की तिच्या या सवयीमुळे कुठलीही गोष्ट जाणतेपणीच  होते.  त्यामुळे 'अगं तू माझे डूल परत केलेस का ग? ' असा सवाल कधीच विचारावा लागला नाही.

त्याउलट सविता.तिला कधीही काहीही विचारा.उत्तर एकच - आहे , पण शोधावे लागेल.
तिचा शोध सततच चालू असतो. टापटीप, स्वच्छता याची अंगभूत आवड. तिचे कपाट कधीही उघडावे. व्यवस्थितच असणार. अगदी छोट्यातली छोटी गोष्ट सुद्धा व्यवस्थित गुंडाळून, घडी करून पेटीत ठेवणार. पण इतक्या असंख्य गोष्टी की कुठली गोष्ट कुठे ठेवली याचा अचूक विसरच पडणार. बरे यादी बनवावी तर काय काय गोष्टींची यादी बनवणार ? आणि कितीदा बदलत राहणार? कारण खरेदीचा सोस ही दांडगा. दिसली सुंदर गोष्ट , घे विकत.मग ती वस्तू  सध्या तरी वापरण्यासारखी नसते किंवा आणखी काहीतरी  काम करायचे असते. मग तात्पुरती त्याची वर्णी कपाटात.

 अनेकदा शोधून शोधून थकल्यावर आपण शोधायचे सोडून देतो आणि अचानक एके दिवशी विनासायास ती गोष्ट आपल्या हाती लागते तेंव्हा झालेला आनंद हा अवर्णनीय असतो.


 आम्हाला लहानपणी एक धडा होता : चिंगीचे दप्तर. ही चिंगी दिवसभरात जे दिसेल ते गोळा करून दप्तरात ठेवायची. खडू, मोराची पिसे, रबर , पेन्सिली, गोळ्यांचे चांदीचे कागद, नाणी, प्लास्टिकची  फुले, मणी,  बटणे, सागर गोटे, शिंपले, अरीस्पानी तुकडे -  अशा एक ना अनेक अफलातून गोष्टी तिच्या दप्तरात असायच्या  व आम्हाला परीक्षेत प्रश्न असायचा : चिंगीच्या दप्तरात काय आहे? एवढा राग यायचा त्या चिंगीचा . हिचे उद्योग आणि प्रश्न आम्हाला. बरे काही कमी लिहावे तर मार्क कापायला बाईही तयार आणि आईही ओरडायला तयार. नीट पाठ करून का नाही जात. बरं काहीही ठोकावे तरी बाई लाल शाईने अधोरेखित करायच्या. दोन्हीकडून पंचाईत. पण नंतर याच गोष्टीचा पुढे 'मेमरी गेम' खेळताना खूप फायदा झाला.


जसजसे मोठे होत गेलो तस तसे शोधाची व्याख्याही बदलत गेली. कधी नोकरी - तर कधी जीवन साथी. जुन्या पुस्तकांच्या दुकानात किंवा पुस्तकालयात मी कितीतरी वेळ चांगले पुस्तक शोधण्यात किंवा वाचण्यात घालवला आहे. पण या शोधाची मजा काही औरच असते. त्याउलट जावई शोध लावले की हसून हसून पुरेवाट.आता तर इंटरनेट मुळे अगदी पंचवीस वर्षानिसुद्धा  आम्ही शाळेतली मूले एकत्र एका ग्रुप मध्ये  आलो आहोत. बालपण परत परत अनुभवायला तर मिळतेच पण त्याउपर अगदी नि:संकोचाने आपली मते मांडायला एक व्यासपीठ मिळते. Facebook मुळे तर अनेक आप्तज जवळ आले.Google सारख्या 'शोध' engines  मुळे तर आता जगाच्या पाठीवरचेच नाही तर त्याही पलीकडचे सुधा क्षणात कळते. अर्थात अजूनही 'बायकोला सदा आनंदित कसे ठेवावे?' हा प्रश्न Google ला टाकला तर 'अजून शोधात आहे' असे उत्तर मिळाल्याचे ऐकिवात आहे.

 असा शोध करता करता हळू हळू जीवनाची संध्याकाळ कधी होते ते कळतच नाही. आणि मग आणखी एका शोधाची सुरवात होते - आत्मशोध.मला वाटते लोकमान्य टिळकांचे 'गीता रहस्य' किंवा पंडित जवाहरलाल नेहेरूंचे 'भारत -एक खोज' हे ग्रंथसुद्धा   कुठेतरी आत्मशोधाच्या दिशेचे पाऊल होते.सखोल विचार केल्यावर असेही दृष्टीस येते  की आपले अक्खे  जीवनच मुळी एक आत्मशोध असतो. फक्त फरक एवढाच की तरुणपणी कशाची उसंत नसल्यामुळे आपण त्यावर अधिक विचार करत बसत नाही. मागे वळून आपला जीवनपटल  पहिला तर अनेकदा आश्चर्य वाटते की कसे आपण त्यातून गेलो. आता परत ती वेळ आपल्यावर आली तर कदाचित आपण नाही करू शकणार ते दिव्य. परंतु प्रत्येक प्रसंगातून जाताना समाधान असते की आपण त्यावेळी जो प्रयत्न करायचा  होता तो पूर्ण केला.कुठे कमी पडलो नाही किंवा आळस केला नाही.

सतत आनंदी राहणे हे काही शक्य नसते. जीवनाच्या चढ  उतारात हिंदोळे खावेच लागतात. कधी फसले जातो तर कधी अविश्वासाने आपल्याकडे बघितले जाते. काल परवा पर्यंत आपली वाटणारी मंडळी आपल्यावर उलटतात .सीझरलाही शेवटी म्हणावेच लागले ' ब्रुटस यु टू?' पण म्हणून काही जीवनाची शोकांतिका होत नाही. जीवन हे अव्याहत चालूच राहते व आनंदाचा फुलोरा पसरतच रहातो.

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