An Ignored Truth - A Short Story

“35 years…..35 long years, still it seems just the yesterday when I took oath as a first time MLA” Mayank Chakrdhari thought, sitting on his favorite chair having two lions carved on both of its front legs.

The chair was gifted to him in a large felicitation ceremony when he, later, became the Chief Minister of state. It was the biggest rally of that time. City Maidan was full to the capacity. It was flooded with his cutouts and party flags, and when Mayank Chakrdhari raised his arms in acknowledgement, whole ground had come to life, at once, with a big naara of “Mayank Chakrdhari Jindabad”.

Mayank switched on the TV and the same scene was playing again today. The difference this time was that it was not for him. It was the felicitation ceremony for a new leader. City ground was again filled with people, cutouts, flags and TV crews. Earlier there was only Dordarshan and it took around two days for news to reach people. Now everything was on TV, live. The new leader was made to sit on a similar chair on which he was sitting.

“History repeats itself, only the Actors change” sighed he.

Lawn of his house was full of flowers. Gardening was his new hobby. He has brought the best varieties of flowers, nurtured them for months and in this winter season, lawn was filled with different varieties of beautiful flowers. He looked at it proudly and asked Shayamlal, his helper of many years, to bring the chair in lawn, along with the newspapers. Afternoon sun was glowing in a cool winter day.  There was a time when this lawn used to be filled with people, never allowing the grass to grow. It always had barren spots in the middle which Mayank disliked immensely. But now though the grass has grown, uniformly, all over the lawn, but what he missed, now, was the company of his people.

Mayank had wanted to promote flower export from the state during his tenure because climate and soil were suitable for horticulture. But he was forced to shelve the plan as his colleges felt it would seen as generous grant for his castemen- he belonged to a caste which was known for gardening skills. He agreed and rejected the proposal from a private enterprise which wanted to enter into an agreement for flower export from the state. Many other such projects were also shelved for one or other similar reason. Later on, same colleagues questioned his commitment towards the development of the state. Mayank closed his eyes and a faint smile of realization was apparent on his face.

He asked Shayamlal to call the new leader. He wanted to wish him. Shayamlal informed that he could not connect to the new leader. Mayank didn’t say anything and simply nodded his head, but deep within, he knew that the new leader had refused to talk. Mayank was not even invited for the function. In his prime, Mayank could not attend all the functions he was invited for, and now he waited for invites so that he could meet some people. It was very lonely at this secluded quarter. His son had moved to US, daughter was happy with her family and wife left some years ago out of illness.

“Yeh duniya agar mil bhi jaae to kya hai….” these immortal lines came on their own and he started singing.

Mayank left the lawn when the Sun went deep west and went to his bedroom. He didn’t open the door till afternoon next day. Worried Shayamlal knocked on door but got no reply. Intuitionally, he informed both, police and ambulance, together. News spread like a wild fire and the new leader announced that Mayank would be cremated with full state honours. People kept pouring in to pay their obeisance to the departed soul. News channels ran special programs on him for the whole day.

“The world which had rejected him in life, has embraced him in his death” thought Shayamlal, standing in the corner of the house. He brought some flowers from the lawn and put them along the body of Mayank.

(Embedded photo courtesy Google Images)

यह किसने मेरे कमरे को आज रौशन कर दिया है?

यह किसने मेरे कमरे को आज रौशन कर दिया है?

अँधेरा था, जैसा था, क्यूँ दुर कर दिया है?

अब दिवार पे लगी तस्वीरें दिखती हैं,

धुधली ही सही, टेडी सी अड़ी ,

मुझे शर्मिन्दा करती हैं!!

उन्हीं तश्वीरों में एक बोस की तश्वीर है,

दीया की मद्धम रौशनी में मुझे देख, पूछते हैं, "यह कहाँ हैं?"

और जब मैं कहता हूँ," यह देश भारत है"

तो सहसा रोक मुझसे  कहते हैं...

फिर इतना अँधेरा क्यूँ है यहाँ? कहा हैं वो वीर बांकुरें?,

कहा हैं कलकल नदियाँ,

किधर लहलहाते खेत हैं,

कहाँ बेख़ौफ़ दौड़ती हैं कुडियां?

यही तो है वो देश यहाँ, जहाँ हुए थे आप कभी,

मिला मुझे जो हाथों, थामी हैं मैंने वो कड़ियाँ!

एक हवा के झोके से हिलती है तश्वीर,

संभलते बोस के आँखों में दिख जाते हैं नीर!!

था वो उन्माद ऐसा, जलते हवन में दी थी आहुतियाँ!

दीवाने देश के हस्ते हस्ते चढ़े फाशियाँ!

कहा गए वो मतवाले, क्यूँ खाली है बशुन्धरा?...वो फिर पूछते हैं!

यह किसने किया रौशन  यहाँ?..नज़रे चुरा मैं हूँ पुकारता!

भैया आज दिवाली है...वो पगली कहती है!

आज ही रावण को मार श्री राम लंका से आये थे अयोध्या!

पागल....अब कहाँ राम रहे, कहाँ है अयोध्या?

सब रावण, हर भूभाग बना है लंका,

इस युग सीता को आजीवन करना होगा इंतजार यहाँ, 

यह किसने मेरे कमरे को आज रौशन कर दिया है?

अधेरा था, जैसा था, क्यूँ दुर कर दिया है?

                                                                           -मुकुल प्रियदर्शी 

Struggle, Not a Shame!!!

He sweated more, laughed lesser. The studios silence of him was concentration to some, nervousness to others. He never came in flash, but was like the treasured wine which ups slowly. You loved the man, but not his game. He played more balls, perfectly each time, but scored less. He was a man of contradictions. And life played one on him as well, though being successful; he always played second fiddle to his more illustrious peers. Yes...I am talking about Rahul Dravid. 

Rahul Dravid after his last Oneday Inning

When Rahul graciously bowed out from Onedayers last friday, I realized how easily I have completed those 15 years with him. My association with him goes back to 1996. As a young boy totally mesmerised by the beauty of cricket I watched India getting out of Wills World Cup in Kolkata. I vividly remember how seriously I was following that world cup. I had created my own scrap book, noting scores and important events. I was eagerly waiting for Azharuddin to raise the Cup. And it all went down in Kolkata..........that day........late evening.........it was not only Vinod Kambli who cried. Not only burned the benches of Eden Garden, along burnt my scrap book. 

Post World Cup, Vinod Kambli and Sanjay Manjarekar were dropped, and Vikram Rathod, Rahul Dravid and Avinash Vaid were selected in the team. This man ‘Rahul Dravid’ played in Singapore against Sri Lanka and then in Saarjah. He failed. No one cared and to all’s surprise he was selected in the team to long England tour, and rest they say is history. 

Most people despised Rahul for slow run rate. Somehow I got connected. I saw in him a man who struggled in middle when chips were down. Others used to leave in hurry if they can’t change the course. He fought, struggled hard and mostly lost in the end. This human like act of him, seems endeared him to me. He was well read, his comments made note in next day’s newspaper but not his exploits. Slowly, under the shadows of his peers, he built his career brick by brick and then they named him ‘The Wall’. There came moment during 2002-2006 when he surpassed everyone. That was the phase when we all loved him, and my admiration just rose. We lost 2007 world cup and he was left out of one dayers. It hurt him, more to me. Both of us reconciled to the fact of him playing only test matches. Out of nowhere he was recalled for Champions’ trophy and later in England. I hoped he will play well and again become a permanent member for next 1-2 years. But he knew himself better that me and decided to leave the blue jersey. He bowed out and when he walked off field, head held high, for the last time in blue jersey, I realised how fast those 15 years have gone by. 

Thanks you Dravid for being human, for showing that struggle is not shame. Every run of yours is a work of hard work. You stood up and showed one can succeed even if not naturally gifted. I fear the day when you will walk out for the last time in white jersey, because along with walk out the cricket in me. Good Luck.

(Photo Source: Yahoo)

दम लगा के दौड़ ज़रा!!!

चल दम लगा के दौड़ ज़रा!!!
गलियों से, पगडंडियों पे,
राहें, नालें, कुचों से,
कल कल बहती नदियों से किनारों पे,
हरे हरे खेतों से.....
सर उठा, हाथ फैला....
दम लगा...
दम लगा के दौड़ ज़रा!!!

तितली पकड़,
हवा को जकर,
दुर 'आम के पेर' की ओर....
संग यारों के चल तो ज़रा,
कदमों को हिला,
खुद को कर ढीला....
दम लगा.......
दम लगा के दौड़ ज़रा!!!

खुला बदन, खाली कदम,
सर पर आश्मा सारा...
देख वो पानी के नाले से मुकुल भागा,
पकड़ उसे, पकड़ ज़रा...
वो पीछे पीछे राहुल भी भागा,
दम लगा.....
दम लगा के दौड़ ज़रा!!!
-मुकुल प्रियदर्शी

Mistakes in hindi writing could be attributed to my limited knowledge of google transliterate tool. I am aware of some of the mistakes but don't know how correct them. Any KT for the same is welcome :)

An Indian Obama - Still Some Decades to Go...

Assent of Barak Obama to US presidency has not only impacted USA, ripples are felt in politics of other countries as well. UK chooses a young and dynamic David Cameron as its Prime Minister, while opposition Labour choose to be led by Ed Miliband. And then there are Sarkozys of France and Merkels of Germany. How can India remain untouched? In largest democracy of world, largest political party of the world, Congress went back to Gandhi clan, and this time it was Rahul Gandhi. Opposition BJP tried to match it with L. K Advani’s overwhelming presence in cyber world, new generation’s hangout, and not to forget his visit to a Gym during election campaigning of 2009.

When Barak Obama riding on the back of fierce speeches, youthful energy, no-nonsense attitude and well choreographed moves swamped USA, an urge to follow the trend is overwhelming in India. If you can’t find a leader like him, atleast present the current leader in his mould. India has large no. of its young generation working in software industry where majority of work comes from USA. This generation is understood to be attracted towards US and the urge to present something in US colours is understandable. This could only be a short term solution, however, when would India find an Obama like young, dynamic leader with no family name, I should rather call it when will India accept such leader? An Indian Obama who would give us a new dream, a new India. An Indian Obama who would sweep India from twitter and facebook platform. Obama might be fighting his own battles in USA as its President; still he is the most inspiring leader of the world of current generation.

“Politics in India is a very complex canvas with multiple divides—urban and rural, rich and poor, and educated and not so educated. I don’t think I am competent to handle such a complex canvas,” the Economic Times newspaper quoted Mr. N. R. Narayan Murthy, Infosys Chairman-Emeritus, as saying. This statement of NRN clearly explains how tough the political space is in India, no doubt Congress keeps going back towards Gandhi family, readily accepting their next generation, rather than accepting someone new, someone with vision, and someone with modest upbringing. It maybe because the means to reach India is still not easy, as was the case with Obama. He has a country with good internet connectivity, mobile concentration and strong media. It was easier for an Obama to win the case with his argument in front of a learned audience. Literacy figures in India, though, are growing, still a large chunk of its population is ignorant. When you are surrounded with so much uncertainty, it is quite natural to bank on tried and known name of ‘Gandhi’. Alternative to congress party, some regional parties, lack pan India acceptability. Most of them are family owned private enterprises. This brings huge responsibility on BJP’s shoulder to bring fort a young leader of Vajpayee/Advani mould. But first BJP should accept him, rather indulging in infighting, and then India will accept him.

So the question still remains, when will India have its own Obama? It seems we need to wait for some more decades........hope and pray it’t not forever.

एक मेरा दिल है!

एक मेरा दिल है!
किधर बैठा है मेरे अन्दर, मुझे मालुम नहीं,
उसे देखा नहीं कभी, पर उसके होने का अहसास है!
उसे किसी से मुहब्बत नहीं, ना शायद किसी चीज की चाह है!
अँधेरे में भटकना उसका शौक,
और अथाह को अपना बनाने की चाह है शायद!
वह कभी मदद, तो कभी आंशु बन बहना चाहता है,
तो कभी दूसरों को गले लगा उन्हें सुनना चाहता है!
कभी मेरे क़दमों को सहसा रोक देता है,
तो कभी मुझे बहता छोर देता है !
जब कभी पूछता हूँ, क्युं करता है तु ऐसा...
तो डाल मुझे मजधार में,
खुद कुछ दूर खरा होता है, मुझे आगे बुलाता है,
बढने का हौसला दिलाता है!
यह मेरा दिल है.....
मेरे काबू में नहीं,
मुझे से अनगिनत सवाल करता हैं
पर यह वही तो है...
जो मेरे होने का एहसास दिलाता है!!!

-मुकुल प्रियदर्शी