Zila Begusarai

Zila Begusarai

…………………….

He was royally sitting inside , a policeman conversing with him with lot of respect. That was sometimes around 1972 or so when Begusarai became a district by carving out of Munger. If there is any district record of sports then it will be found that I was the captain of the first district football team. We just finished one of our football outing when I was informed that one of our player Gopal Prasad Singh who was also operator in Barauni Refinery had been jailed. I knew that he was on the run when his truck carrying ganja was caught near Nashik.

I am talking about Gopal whom we had gone to meet in the Begusarai jail. That was the time when notorious smuggler Kamdeo Singh was uncrowned king of ganja smugglers , ganja was grown in Nepal so it was cross border smuggling. Gopal was a good footballer and was representing both refinery and district. Officially he was an operator in Barauni Refinery of IOC.

I was surprised to find that he was getting lot of respects from the constables though he was behind the bar.He was not in his jail dress,with his fair skin and sturdy built he was looking like a Zamindar even though he was behind the bar. Seeing us he shouted an obscenity at the constable and said in a rough tone, “ Go bring tea and samosa for my guests!”

Then he smiled at us unruffled by his status of a prisoner , said to me “ Arey Roydada, how are you?”

“ I am fine but what is all this about ganja and all I hear?”

“Who kuch nahi, sab theek ho jayega. What was the score?”

“We won.” Someone informed.

In the meanwhile the constable of the jail brought tea and samosa for us.

We spent sometimes with him and then I rode back to my quarter on my scooter. Those days Begusarai area was a stronghold of CPI , most of the landed property was with Bhumihars. Gopal was a Bhumihar so had that upper hand in the society.

The game of football was the bond between me and Gopal. I was captain of refinery team and would go out to play matches to various places , those outings brought me close to many of the players , somehow Gopal's wayward character attracted me more to him. My flat was near the refinery bus stop from where official buses would start for shift duties. Often Gopal would be late and miss the schedule bus then he would take my scooter to duty. I never had the inkling about his smuggling activities. Once during a football match in Barauni town Gopal had a rough tackle with a Barauni player with whom he had past enmity.  Immediately Gopal was surrounded by the supporters of  the Barauni team who were furious but before they could do any harm to him two characters appeared from nowhere with revolvers and asked the Barauni supporters to back off. I was unnerved by the sight of gun, I looked angrily at Gopal.

He shrugged,” These are my bodyguards; I was ready for something like this.”

After that skirmish the match was abandoned.

After his arrest and conviction, Gopal was terminated from the job.

My last meeting with Gopal was in Quality Dresses , Begusarai which was owned by our friend Harishankar Maskara. I had gone to that shop  just for to chat, I was still a bachelor then. Suddenly Harshankar gave a shout and said,” Look who is here?’

I turned and found Gopal entering the shop. He was neatly dressed, had a look of a businessman. Seeing me he gave a big smile. Harshankar whispered to me,” Now he is a full time smuggler.”

“Hello Roydada.” We shook hand.

“You know Gopal got married again.” Harishankar said.

“Arey yaar, why suddenly?” I said.

“ Now I have to move in higher society so married an educated smart girl.” He smiled mischievously.

“what about your wife in village?” I said.

That rascal said, “ Dada you marry her.” And guffawed .

“Bloody hell, you have not changed even though wearing all gentleman like dress.” I admonished him.

Well that was my  last meeting with Gopal.

Begusarai is very much in news now a days because of Kanhaiya Kumar who is from Bihata village of Begusarai district....Begusarai had been a notorious place then in seventies because of all kinds of illegal activities. it was a strong hold of CPI and from the reports i find Bihata is called mini Moscow...
It is not surprising that  a gangster like Gopal  can not do mundane duty of an operator or like Kanhiya study and fight against the system...third alternative is be law abiding and surrender to the system...

Woes of a research scholar

Woes of a research scholar

…………………………………

I was engrossed in reading a thriller when I heard someone calling my name. I looked up from my corner desk.

It was KG who was 2 years senior to me in IIT , a popular debater of our college was calling me , he too was in the same establishment.

I got up to the door when he asked me to bring the book along. I innocently picked up the thriller and walked out in the corridor to meet him. I was caught red handed, that rascal was waiting with juniors of IIT, Kharagpur who had come on study tour to National Physical Laboratory in Pusa,New  Delhi.

“Look what a Senior Research fellow does in NPL! Meet Samar.”

There was all round ribbing among us.

After passing out in 1965 from IIT, Kharagpur thought we would get job immediately but unfortunately that did not happen though some of our friends got offer while in the college.  There was no campus interviews those days. Our friend Sanjay Majumdar’s father had a steel plant in Durgapur and he arranged job for some of the friends there.

Me and Bhaskar would walk the corridors of Connaught Place every day  in search of job and close the day with coffee in Coffee House by the side of Regal cinema. 1964,65,66 were the recession years in India, graduate engineers were either underemployed or unemployed. Every day I would scan the paper for job and apply. There was an offer from Atlas cycle but because of bond did not take. Then in frustration applied against an ad for Senior Research Fellow  in CSIR( because we did 5 years after HS so was eligible along with MScs). I was interviewed by Dr.Zaheer, DG ,CSIR. He offered me Senior Research fellow in any of the regional laboratories in India.  I wanted to stay in Delhi with my parents so it was NPL, JNU was not there then . Thus my research job with a princely sum of Rs 400 per month started. Yesterday I heard someone saying in TV channel debate that they get a measly some of 32,000 as research scholarship.

I must admit that because I was not getting job anywhere so joined as research scholar. It was a stop gap arrangement for me. In the meanwhile I was in the lookout of a proper job of engineer. I spent about 3 months as a scholar without starting a project, I was helping the laboratory in carrying out standard tests. I was using the well stacked library of the establishment to keep myself abreast with the latest development in electrical engineering and of course there would always be a light book as time filler like that day when KG called me.

Finally I competed in All India competition for engineer trainee in IOC and was posted in Gauhati Refinery to start my one and half years training stint at a princely sum of 350 rupees as stipend.

I am sure majority of those so called scholars are those who could not get a suitable job or could not compete in All India competitions and went on remaining in campuses on scholarship for doing some sort of research; certainly most of them are not brilliant scholars or toppers of the universities.

I remember I had accompanied my friend Virendra Kumar to Kalayani  sometimes in 1998 or so for the inauguration of Solar heater supplied for drying of milk to produce milk powder in NDR, every alternate person was a doctorate there. I remember Budhadev Bhattacharya ,Chief Minister of West Bengal once commented about the galaxy of doctorates of not doing enough to increase the agricultural productivity in West Bengal but only adding degrees to their names.
My association with CSIR took a full circle, i was a council member  of Regional Research Laboratory ,Bhopal an appointment made by GOI during my Bhopal days from 2000 to 2003.I was in the selection committee of scientists in the laboratory.Took part in selecting bright candidates who wanted to come back from abroad and serve India.By virtue of that association i came in contact with many scientists who were working activly in adivasi villages on projects to find alternate occupation for them in their villages so that they don't have to migrate out to cities in search of job. They had developed systems of keeping storing area cool by using sun and air, a kind of natural refrigeration. Yes those scholars worked for the downtrodden.They were contributing positively to uplift the society and i made it a point to visit that laboratory as often as possible to know more. From BHEL,Bhopal we had taken help of the Laboratory to resolve knotty technical problems.
To conclude i started my career as a Research scholar and retired by associating myself with real productive researchers.

 

Patriot duty

Patriot duty

……………………..

I was wrong in assuming that after doing compulsory NCC during IIT days there would be no more regimental training, but a surprise was waiting for me in Indian Oil, Guwahati Refinery where I joined as Engineer Trainee in 1965.

It was the time when skirmishes with Pakistan in Kashmir border escalated to a full scale 17 days war in September, 1965. The management was instructed to tighten security in the township and the refinery because the East Pakistan border was very close by, Bangladesh was yet to form.

One night while we were in the officers club heard air raid siren blowing and all the lights were switched off . Pak planes on reconnaissance were  flying over our refinery and Indian antiaircraft guns located on two hillocks by the side of refinery started firing at those. Heavy armored vehicles, tanks  and trucks carrying soldiers moving was a common sight those days. Next to refinery was the Narangi military camp and so the movement. The situation was tense in and around the refinery; trenches were dug in the refinery and  the township. Every day we had to undergo civil defense drill of diving in the trenches whenever siren was blown, yes air raid sirens were put at strategic locations in the refinery, township and the market place.

All the trainees were selected to undergo training for home guard. So NCC like training by the army personnel started for us. It was regular workout, march past and finally rifle shooting in the army range. We were pressed in duty of guarding the township during the night.  We would work in the refinery in the day  and guard the township in the night.  Mr. Chowdhury was a confirmed bachelor; he offered his flat to be our night camp. At any given time as per regulation two of us would be moving together. A danda and a torch were our tools to defend. I guess at that time of history those were sufficient to handle any suspicious movement, Pathankot type attack was unheard of.

Nothing exceptional happened during that one month of guard duty excepting for one night.

I and my friend Mitra were walking towards the market from our sector 2 township on that fateful night; we had to cross a jungle. We heard some suspicious sound from the shrub, we got ready with our danda .

“Yes, there is movement.” Mitra said.

“Watch there are two shinning things in the shrub.” I said.

It was a moonless night, we debated whether we should further investigate by going around the shrub.

Both mustered enough courage to move further in, there was distinct sound of movement in the shrub.

“Come out, whoever is there!” We shouted.

No response….we cautiously walked deeper in the shrub with baited breath, it was dark and two shinning eyes stared back at us.

We spread the shrub, walked forward, to our amusement and relief found an innocent cow looking back at us.

We shared our that experience with our comrades and soon it became folklore of the refinery. The ceasefire was declared in September, 1965 and a peace treaty known as Tashkent Declaration was signed by the initiative of USA and Soviet Russia in January, 1966.

Our war time special duty ended without any other major incident.

 

Snore Signal

I Know That I Snore, It Is Proven ( Real Incidence)

I woke up with a start in the dead of the night, felt as though someone was there in my bed room. The room was semi dark with the moon light filtering in through the skylight. I was not fully awake but the sensation of someone there in the bedroom was playing in my mind and I fell asleep again.

I got up in the morning and freshened up. As my wife was away to her parent’s house in Haldia, I was alone in my quarter. I prepared tea and breakfast.

This happened in Barauni refinery. The previous night I had slept late so got up late after that eerie experience of feeling someone was there in my bed room. As usual I opened the outer door and found the newspaper tucked on the outside handle of the door .

Indian newspaper of any region gives priority to political news unless otherwise some natural calamity had happened. Those were the days of Jayprakash Narain movement and Bihar was the hot bed. As TV was yet to come so it was left to newspaper or pan shop gossip to cater the latest news, people seldom believed government controlled radio.

I was busy reading newspaper in my drawing room when I heard some commotion outside the gate of my bungalow.

“Mr. Roy” someone called out my name.

I went out and saw there was a policeman with a sturdy guy handcuffed and lot of curious crowd around.

“Yes, what is this all about?” I enquired curiously.

“Sir, this thief tells that last night he entered your bed room through the skylight.”

I looked at the skylight of my bedroom; it was visible from the outside gate.

“No it is not possible for him to wriggle through the skylight and also nothing has been stolen from my house.”

Then I looked at the thief and asked, “When did you enter my bedroom?”

“In the midnight I entered your bed room through that skylight and went near your dressing table. You were in deep sleep. I took your money bag but suddenly I found that you have woken up so I dived below your bed with the money bag.”

“Then?”

“I waited for you to fall asleep; I left the money bag below your bed and went out of the skylight after sometimes.”

I remembered to have found my money bag below my bed that day but nothing was missing from that bag. Any way those days there was hardly anything important in my money bag like credit card, PAN card, club card etc which are integral part of my money bag now.

Then I realized that the strange feeling of last night as though someone else was there in the bed room was true. The unconscious mind must have registered a signal of alien body near me and that premonition woke me up.

I started getting goose pimples then. Keeping an outward cool I said to the police, “Where did you catch him?”

“After unsuccessful attempt in your house he went to Mr. Tandon’s house through the same skylight. His wife is away. Mr.Tandon found him opening the steel almirah with a screw driver. When challenged he hid himself in the bathroom. Then Mr. Tandon locked him in and shouted for help. Thus he was captured.”

“Well I have no charges to press against him as nothing is stolen,” I said absentmindedly to the police man. I was totally unnerved, thanked god that nothing serious had happened to me that night. I replayed the incidence in my mind. There I was in deep sleep and the thief stealthily entered my bed room through the skylight. He told that he put his head first through the bars of the skylight and then the rest of the body. He looked at me with the screw driver and all other instruments in his pocket. He might have chuckled to himself seeing me sleeping helplessly on the bed. He went to the dressing table looking for the key of the Godrej cupboard but he found my money bag on the dressing table. Suddenly he could feel me waking up with my eyes half closed. His nerve cracked, he dived below the bed with the money bag. I was slowly falling back to sleep and that thief was waiting below my bed; he might be lying on his back. Me slowly falling in sleep and he widely awake waiting below the bed for me to fall in sleep. How did he know I fell in sleep, I guess he must have heard me snoring. Well that is it. When he was near the dressing table then he got the signal that I was awake because my snoring stopped. The sound of my snoring has been used as signal by that rascal to plan his actions.

The above incidence conclusively proved that I do snore but friends I keep on contesting this fact whenever my wife points this out to me...so please keep this secret between you and me..cheers

The trip

                              Me and my brother in Kullu valley

The trip

……………..

We were coming out of gate number of 2 of Vishwanath temple of Varanasi through the narrow lane towards Godhulia when I spotted Pyarelal going up the stairs of the popular Brown bread bakery. Here I must introduce Pyrelal, I met this colorful man on the way to Manali from Kulu in a dhaba. Me ,my brother Chandan and Verma had just visited a hydro plant and were having muli paratha lunch in that dhaba. 

                                  The Israeli in the dhaba

We noticed there were some foreigners in fatigue enjoying the typical Indian cuisine and one smart local fellow was with them. The foreigners left after lunch but that Indian guy stayed back. I was curious about the foreigners so I walked towards that Indian, he gave a welcoming smile and I sat down with him. He said his name was Pyarelal, I introduced myself.

“You people must be visitor here.” He said.

“yes, we came for some work.”

“I stay in Kulu but keep visiting Malana valley.”

“ You mean where there is hydro power plant?” I inquired.

“Yes, pretty near to that there is a valley where foreigners come for camping. I cater to their need of groceries.”

“ Why suddenly foreigners visit such an obscure valley?”

He smiled mysteriously and said,” High quality grass is grown there . Italian were first to arrive in the village in early 70s, in Malana,. In 70s cannabis was solely used for medicinal purpose for humans and as well as goats. Even the fibres of the plant was also used to make ropes and fabric, though Himalayan sadhus were the only one who knew the potential of this plant and smoked the intoxicant power to stimulate their consciousness. Italian when settled in camps near the valley soon discovered the potential of the plant, and the first who taught villagers to rub the plant and churn it into 10 times more potent hashish or charas. The rest of Malana story is legend, now producing the most expensive and powerful charas in the world. –“

It was news for me and beyond my imagination.

I got interested and asked about those foreigners who were with him.

“Oh! Those were Israelis who are actually controlling the drug trade in this area operating from Kasol.By the way Kasol is often called Mini Israel. But then because of cannabis hippies from all over the world come to this valley.You will be surprised to know that currencies of all first world countries are traded here. The trade is done in dollar term.”

I was totally flummoxed by that piece of information. He gave lots of information about the scenic valley with back packers camping there.

Thus I came in contact with Pyarelal.

                                   Brown Bread Bakery in Viswanath temple lane

I asked my wife to go back to hotel and followed Pyarelal to Brown Bread Bakery in that narrow lane. This bar is in the second floor. I spotted Pyarelal in a corner table  with some foreign tourists. Seeing me he gave a big smile and invited me to sit with his group. He spoke to them in some foreign language and introduced me. I said “Hello” to them.

“Which country do you guys belong?”

“We are from Spain.” In halting English one of them replied.

“ How come you are here? Is it do with cannabis or what?” I mischievously asked Pyarelal in Hindi.

“Yes, something like that.” He winked at me.

                                      Assighat

We spent sometimes there ,it was getting dark , he invited me to accompany them to Assighat. I have noticed most of the low end tourists stay in various lodges around Assighat. That place also has many restaurants serving foreign tourists from nations like Spain,Italy, China, Japan etc. We went to one of the lodges along Ganges. I came across so many back packers there. We walked into a big room where already a mix group of male female back packers were there. I could smell hashish or cannabis, hear a very soft raga on sitar in the dim light. All were sitting on the floor. It was dreamy ambience, in my bachelor days I had a few drag of charas with my friend Thampi in Indian Oil,Barauni. I was a bit hesitant but Pyarelal held my hand gave a reassuring squeeze. In typical Indian style we sat down by occupying one of the walls as backrest and waved at the group in general. As Pyrelal was known to them so I was readily accepted. A chillum was getting passed from hand to hand. I was already high after visiting temple and meeting Pyarelal unexpectedly. My turn came and I took a cautious half lungful drag. There was no effect only my throat became dry, i coughed. In the meanwhile Pyarelal was expertly handling the chillum. Another chillum came to me, too many chillums were in circulation. It went on and lost count of drags I took, I was feeling light. Pyrelal in the meantime was busy in talking with a young girl.

I did not know when I got up and walked out.I was standing in the balcony, the freezing wind from Ganges was hitting my face. I was feeling light as though weightless, I was in a very happy mood.  A shadowy figure approached me, the posture looked familiar. I was shocked ,I was looking at younger me. I looked closely , it was me of Barauni when I was weighing less than 65 kg.

“How are you?” younger me asked.

“I am fine .” I stammered.

“What have you done to my body? You added more than 20 kgs  of weight and 10 inches in the waistline. Grey falling hair is understandable. Have you stopped playing games , you have fallen in the trap of change of life style.” My younger self admonished me.

“ Yes I know I have gain weight and struggling to reduce.” I said lamely.

I was happy to see me of 1969 or so, in that drain pipe pant and a woolen jacket of that era. I thought I must be hallucinating, “ You are not real, it is trick of my mind playing with me. How is it possible?”

“Why I am with you always,true it is all in the mind , there is a switch and you have to select the happy moment of your life. Today unknowingly you chose your Barauni  bachelor days as you consider those as your happiest moments in your adult life also you were introduced to charas then. This selection was not in your hand. It was that grass which you inhaled decided for you.”

“True,left to me I would have chosen those happy school days with my parents in Delhi. No responsibility excepting passing exams.”

“Well you will get chance for that too but not tonight. You better leave this place and head for hotel.Come I will leave you to hotel.”

Both of us got down and took an auto for the hotel. I felt sleepy but the younger me was holding me steady. The auto driver was suspiciously looking back when we were talking.

I paid the auto driver, he held me and helped to the elevator. We reached our floor and knocked on the door of my hotel room.

My wife opened the door, she looked baffled at both of us. Younger me said,” Don’t worry he is alright.”

“Yes I am alright but feeling sleepy.”

“Let me help you to change.” Both of us together struggled to change my cloth. I dived to bed and asked him to join me. He joined me without a word and snugly held me in the bed.

 I suddenly woke up and found my wife putting water on my face, it was morning.

“Hey hey what are doing?”

“You were making some strange noise and calling out your own nick name repeatedly. Are you alright?”

“Yes I am.” I said guiltily then started looking for him in the bed.

“What are you searching? Last night you behaved strangely, you were talking in two voices.” Worriedly she said.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes I am fine now, last night i had a few drinks more than my regular quota.”

I did not tell her about my last night’s indulgence with drug and meeting my younger self.

Thank God that I had a good trip after smoking the grass, it could have been worse.
                                                                         

Younger me and now me.

I keep visiting Varanasi

I keep visiting Varanasi, yes i have been doing that for the last 3 years. I made 4 back to back visits but sill as though i have not seen all or sometimes i feel as though i did not get what i was searching for so i have to make another visit.

There is compulsory walk of about 1.5 kms to reach Dashashwamedh ghat from Godhulia as no conveyance is allowed in that stretch. Many a times we have taken narrow parallel lanes to reach the ghat to avoid heavy crowd. Varanasi has labyrinths of lanes,one can reach from point A to point B through the narrow lanes without touching the motor-able roads. Mostly these lanes are 4 to 5 ft wide. Almost all the lanes get sun ray for a few minutes when orbiting sun takes a position bang along the lanes.One has to have guide to take walk in these complex intertwining lanes. One has to jostle for space with bulls,cows,motor bikes, funeral procession,shoppers etc. I always go prepared to walk in lanes with walking shoes, my wife reluctantly follows me. 

All those music teachers,scholars,dance schools, Banarsi saree factories, pan walas, rabdi walas , international cafes all are in these lanes.Mandir,majhar,mosque,jain temple you name it all are in the lanes. If one does not walk the lanes then he or she has not seen Varanasi from the close quarter. I have seen foreign tourists and backpackers walking in the lanes with Lonely Planet book as guide. Don't be surprise if you find restaurants selling Japanese,Thai,Italian, Spanish foods in those narrow lanes. The most surprising thing i noticed are the foreign language skills of those half literate guides. In every visit i do check with foreigners whether those young Banarsi fellows speaking their language or not. Always the answer was yes. It's just amazing.

 I will do more research on Varanasi lanes in my next visit.

In Varanasi either you take cycle ricksaw or a Auto ricksaw to commute in those crowded streets. Cars can't negotiate the unruly roads.

But be prepared for the unexpected.

One is not allowed to take pictures inside those revered temples.

Kaal Vairav

                                                                      Sankatmochan, a temple of Hanuman

Ganges

Yes, this Holy river is the main attraction not only for Hindus but for all religions,  tourists from all over the world throng here. Ganges is Uttarmukhi in Kashi or Varanasi....all .the major rivers flows from North and drains in sea by flowing towards South but here Ganges flows from Soth towards North ...Irrespective of season this Holy river has a mystical power of drawing people. 

 To die here in his city on the banks of the holy river is to achieve moksha, liberation from the cycle of life and death. Death is not hidden in India. It is part of life, and one reason why you find cremation grounds in the very center of Varanasi, and cremation ghats lining the river.

. The city is known worldwide for its many ghats  embankments made in steps of stone slabs along the river bank where pilgrims perform ritual ablutions. Of particular note are the Dashashwamedh Ghat, the Panchganga Ghat, the Manikarnika Ghat and the Harishchandra Ghat, the last two being where Hindus cremate their dead.

                                                                                        

     I somehow keep on taking pictures of Ganges from every possible angles but still don't feel satisfied because it can not be captured in a picture frame. It is like time keeps on flowing and when i come next time i am a year older and there is discernible shift in my outlook, i rediscover Ganges in a different hue.

                                                                             

Ararti

I have been visiting Varanasi since 1981 when i was posted at Singrauli from BHEL for NTPC's Singrauli Super Thermal Popwer Station. Those days arati was not this glamorous, it was there but in low key. May be effect of globalization has touched this holy place too.

 

I have noticed the people of Varanasi have not changed much, the modernity have not touched their life style like any other metropolitan city. One gets priests of all ages. What surprises me most are the guides who are just ordinary people and have not attended any language class. They can speak Spanish, Japanese, French, Italian just any language without any formal training.  This time i asked this guide who was speaking French ," How did you pickup the language?'

"Bus yunhi boltey boltey." he said shyly.

Here is one conversation in Spanish which i recorded last year. A boatman speaking Spanish....amazing...hats off...

My discovery of Varanasi has not finished yet....har har Mahadev