Tuesday, August 16, 2016

Tell me your dream

Tell me your dream


…………………

I got down from the taxi near the Bandra band stand once again like I had been doing for the last one week. I started walking up the street past Sahrukh Khans house. I walked for about ten minutes and then turned right to begin the search for Dr.Rehmani.I went to the first high rise apartment complex next to the petrol pump. The security guard did not stop me, I wondered why? May be I don’t look like one to break in the houses or I was looking very old to carry out any nefarious activity. I gave a broad smile to the security guy for his generosity which is very hard to come by now a days. He nodded in response. I crossed the lawn and reached the lobby of the multi storey and looked at the letterboxes. I could not locate the name of Dr.Rehmani, so I trudged back out of the security gate, it was December so the sun at eleven o’clock was not harsh. The length of my shadow has shortened; I looked down at the shadow and thanked it to be still there, I have lost all hopes of regaining my self. So I and my shadow started our search for Dr.Rehmani once again and to no avail.I had to find him, so I continued my search at Bandra for Dr.Rehmani.

 The above is the narration of the oldish looking guy sitting in front of me at Copper Chimney where I had gone for lunch. It was chance meeting with Champak Kumar on that day.

It happened like this, after my retirement from BHEL,Bhopal in 2003 i had joined a firm in Kolkata. In 2004 sometime in December I had landed in Bombay in connection with a consultancy work. I was booked at Wankhade stadium guest house by my friend Jamgade.I did not like the ambience of the restaurant there in the stadium so I took a cab and came to Copper Chimney for my lunch. I had ordered my lunch, was smoking and waiting  to be served, suddenly I found this handsome old guy in tweed coat and corduroy pant appearing in front of me and asking for  match box. He appeared to be a nice and kind guy, surprisingly he appeared young from some angle, his stance was youngish but he looked old, I obliged him. He went back to his place in the corner of the restaurant, my lunch course was served. I hurriedly finished my lunch as my meeting with the client was scheduled for three in the afternoon. After paying my bill I got up and went towards the door, I heard a voice behind me; I turned around and found that old guy was waving at me. I went near his table.

“Do you have some time to spare?” He enquired.

“Sorry, I am in a hurry for a meeting.”

“Do you come often here?”

“No, no I have arrived here today and will be staying in Bombay for the next four days,” I informed him.

“Can we meet here tomorrow; I want some time of yours.”

I had work in the late evening next day, but it was a strange request from a stranger. But this is not the first time when strangers had confronted me and unloaded their worries on me. I don’t know why I am picked up, may be I have a very ordinary common man  face which remind them of their some close relatives or friends. Any way I too did not have much work next morning and scented a good story, agreed to meet him at Copper Chimney at one o clock next day.

Next day I got down from the taxi in front of the restaurant and found that old gentleman sitting at a table of four. He was wearing this turtle neck grey sweater and black chinos pant and was looking like an out of work hero. He was about five feet eleven and a slim body. He got up and invited me to the chair opposite to him. I shook hand with him and sat down.

“You are surprised why I chose you? You see you look like one of my cousins whom I adore. I was feeling lonely, so I requested you for this meeting.”

“Oh, that's alright, I too don’t have much to do today. Let us order some drink.”

“The drinks and the lunch are on me, that is my payment to you for your time,” he smilingly told .

We ordered scotch and he started his narration. In between he was continuously receiving calls on his cell phone. He was either asking them to sell or purchase, it was the time when sensex was trying to breech 10,000 marks.I am Champak Kumar; you might have heard my name. His name struck a chord in my memory, was he the hero of the film “Khooni Khanjar’.He acted in one movie in late eighties, it was a super hit but after that no one heard any thing about him. He just kind of vanished, there were rumour that he had hot affair going with the heroin of the film.

I am not sure, are you the hero Champak Kumar.”

“Thank god you have heard my name; you look to be of a generation before me.” This remark of his surprised me as he looked to be more than sixty and that is more or less of my age.

“What happened to you, why you did not act in any other movie?”

He sipped his scotch and ran his fingers through his hair. I noticed him doing this very frequently. I looked at his hair and wondered whether he was wearing a wig or not but I could see his parting hairline, it was natural hair but dyed.

He philosophically looked at his scotch glass and said,"Let me start from the beginning then you will know my problem."

This is what he told me:
I am a graduate from Barkatulla University; Bhopal. My original name is Dharmesh Chandra Agarwal.I used to take part in college plays and because of my good look I was always chosen to play the role of hero. After my graduation I decided to try my luck in Bombay so I boarded a train for Bombay. It was just after Bhopal gas tragedy. We escaped the gas as we were staying near the BHEL Township. I was in the AC chair car; the passenger next to me was a girl who was traveling from Delhi to Bombay. Because of good looks the girls automatically get attracted to me, so this girl was no exception. She looked to be lonely and I lent my ear to her. I did not give out much about myself. She had gone to Delhi to attend an art seminar. She was a budding artist from JJ school of art; she was neither beautiful nor smart. She informed me that she had no true friend. She looked to be rich and as I had no place to stay in Bombay so I started flirting with her. During the course of our discussion I came to know that she was the daughter of a psychiatrist. Her father was having many film artists among his 
clientele. I thanked my lucky star for this break. So I doubled my charm, blasted it to her with full intensity and by the time we reached Bombay she was eating from my hand, she started begging me to stay with her family. It seemed her mother had died and she was the only daughter. I did not say yes readily, I pretended as though I had many friends where i can chose to stay. She took the bait and started pleading and I agreed, remember I am an actor so these things come naturally to me.
We got down at Bombay Central, there was a car waiting for her outside. She took me to her house at Vila Parle. It was an old fashioned house with tall columns and the works. Her father was waiting for her at the porch, an old fellow in gown with clipped moustache, medium height,  high powered specs .Oh by the way the name of the girl was Percy and they were Anglo Indian.Dr.Brown was a jovial guy and I took immediate liking to him. He did not mind giving me shelter in his house as long as it pleased her daughter. I was allotted the guest room in the ground floor. It was a two storied gothic structure; airy .I would not go to much detail about how the doctor took a shine on me. Mr.Sippy, the producer is one of his client. He introduced me to him.Mr.Sippy gave me chance in his film Sholay, it was a bit role as one of the constables with Asrani.While shooting for the movie, I came in contact with the heroin Anita and she recommended me for hero role in “Khuni Khanjar”.I found out that Percy was using me as a hat rack for parking her self esteem, she was not much for romance or sex,she lived in her own world of art. So there I was a part time lover to Percy and a full time hero with Anita. There was lot of rumour about me and Anita, nothing really happened between us. It was one of those pre release hypes they built up through PR.
I was not happy with the film line, it was plastic world very artificial so I wanted to quit. I wanted to continue a free life with lots of money. I used to share my thoughts with Dr.Brown; he was sympathetic to my views.One day he introduced me to a doctor whom he came to know the previous day in a conference. The doctor was introduced to me as Dr.R.He was a weird looking guy, like a character from Harry Porter. He attracted me like a magnet. I started visiting his hotel room. He was thinking of settling down in Bombay along the Arabian sea. He was interested in Bandra.I shared my wish of early retirement, and my dream of spending a leisure life of playing golf and visiting places. Somehow without my knowledge he started influencing my dreams. I started dreaming as though I was like Manu Chabaria who has built his empire with 10,000 rupees so I was also capable of doing that.I was having a few lakhs earned from the film. I slowly started thinking about stocks and real estate.My thinking process was changing,a new me was emerging who was focussed towards money. I purchased land in Greater Bombay which was yet to develop to the present magnitude; similarly I invested in tech shares where no one was investing then. Whatever i touched fetched money as though i had Midas touch. I knew that metamorphosis of mine was due to Dr.R so I helped him to purchase the land which he wanted.
Suddenly one day while brushing my teeth in the morning I noticed that I was getting wrinkles around my neck, on closer look found out extra strands of white hair among my black hair. I was very particular about my good look so I started worrying and the worry caused my physical aging faster. I had not met Dr.R for a year or so but came to know that he has moved out of the hotel to his newly built house on the land which i helped him to purchase. I visited him, found that he was no longer looking weird but instead he was looking younger. I requested him to do something about my aging .He asked me to come next day. Accordingly i went and he asked me to 
lie down on the reclining couch  I was hypnotized by him , when I came back to my senses then I found myself in my flat at Lokhandwala with all my memory and the location of Dr.R’s house totally wiped out from my mind.
“How old are you now?” I asked curiously.

“I am just 45 years old but see I look as if I am seventy years old. He stole my years through my dreams.

“How”

“During the process of my investment I was getting this dream regularly where there was an old guy in a castle in the clouds. He would ask me to give my youth to him and he would make me rich beyond my imagination. You know I was so possessed that I agreed.”

“You mean to say that Dr.R was that old guy in your dream.”

“Yes, now when I sit back and think then all the pieces start falling in places.”

“What about Dr.Brown,cant he help you to track down the devil.”

“The father and daughter moved to Australia and heard that Doctor died.”

“So now every day I go out to Bandra and search doctors whose surname starts with R.For the last one week it is Rehmani.”

“The appearance of that devil might have changed, how would you recognize him?”

“I can identify him by his gait, eyes, mannerism etc.” he said desperately.

I felt sorry for the old guy, sorry I mean for the young fellow. His youth was stolen by a wicked doctor. I don’t know how this could be possible. I was wondering whether the body in front of me in the form of Champak Kumar was actually Dr.R and Dr.R is using his body which is forty five years old now. It means he switched the souls; it was real scary. May be the guy in front of me made up a story and took my time to narrate that and see my reaction. I was utterly confused. These types of things happen in story books not in real life. Though there are people who claim that we could not explore all the dimensions, like say time dimension. This is to do with time.

“I told you my story because in case you come across some one who can give back my lost years then I would pay handsomely. Why don’t you come with me to my house?” He gave his visiting card to me, I did not give mine.

“Sorry, I can’t as I have some urgent business.”

“Will you come tomorrow?

“If I am free then I would come, good bye.”

With his permission i took his snap with my mobile phone and left him.I was in no mood to continue my association with him, I was too scared,started getting goose pimples thinking about his talk.I started searching for an internet cafĂ©, got one after walking a few hundred meters. I got hold of a computer and surfed for  Hindi film “Khuni Khanjar “, found some images from that film.Yes,that guy whom I met in Copper Chimney was really Champak Kumar. He should be around 40 but to me he appeared to be older. Was he telling truth? May be due to some illness he was looking old and made up a filmy story.

 I was puzzled by that chance meeting with Champak Kumar and his strange story. When i told this story to some of my friends in the club they did not believe it so thought of sharing with you all.

Sunday, August 14, 2016

RIO Olympic 2016..my take

RIO...my take
Mrinal Kar was the 100 meter dash champion in 1960 of IIT,Kharagpur when I joined the institute... Mrinal Kar was resident of Patel Hall where I was alloted accommodation...one day Mrinal spotted an African boy C B Simpson in the hostel...he confronted him in dinning  hall and asked him has he ever taken part in Athletics..an emphatic No was the reply...Mrinal Kar who was in prefinal year then encouraged this 2nd year African student Simpson to come to the track...well that was the introduction of an athletic power house to our hostel team..he started winning all 100,200,400 plus long jump not only in inter hostel but also in inter IIT sports meet...those days he used to clock 11. something secs  in 100 m...here is this boy never took part in competitive athletics at the age of 19 or so started and dominated IIT sports scene for next 4 years... it's all in the genes of the people of that continent...watching Usin Bolt winning the 7th heat so easily showed the effortless easy way doing a job in World arena ...
It is great that our sportsperson have met the minimum criteria for taking part in RIO Olympic but then competing with those natural sporting persons from all those highly physical country is another matter... those countries keep on producing sportsperson like a factory....as usual China has caught on and streamlined the production house like all other engineering products from that country.....
Our case is story of one off like a Dipa Karmakar here or rich person Abhinav Bindra doing his bit...yes we rightly focussed on archery,rifle shooting,wrestling which has traditional base... let's see if tennis and badminton players can do anything ,till then let us enjoy watching the excellence in sports after all those people winning gold are the best unlike say in India where people manipulate the system..good that Goel fellow has been recalled back,enough of Tom foolery ...

Thursday, August 04, 2016

Blue Gold

Blue gold
……………

It was late in the evening when we approached  the last rice mill for rice husk survey. The mill owner Mr.Mandal enthusiastically showed us around the rice mill where boiled rice is produced. He invited us for tea in his house adjacent to the mill. I noticed a ruin of two storied brick shed with wild growth around.
“What is that shed?” I inquired.
“That’s Neel Kuthi, our ancestors were Indigo planters.”
“Oh I see, that is the warehouse where the Indigo cakes were stored.” I said.
After finishing tea we came out and got into our car for returning to Bolepur. I was curious to know more about Indigo farming but realized Mr.Mandal being the zamindar whose ancestors would have been ruthlessly exploited the poor farmers so would not give the real picture. Our car had hardly moved a few 100 meters when a young man in shabby cloth waved at us for stopping the car. The driver stopped the car, the young man came at the rear and requested for a lift to the next village. It was dark so I took pity; the driver invited him to sit in the front. After a few kilometers he asked us to stop, the village was very near to Ajay River.
In the meanwhile he told us his name was Joy Biswas and he was returning home from the rice mill, he was an operator there. I got interested in him and asked, “Do you belong to a farming family?”
“Yes, my father is a farmer, we grow rice.” After travelling for about 20 minutes Joy signaled, “ Please stop here my house has come. Why don’t you come in and meet my father.” He politely invited us.
It was a typical thatched roof house with a clean courtyard in the front. We could see cow shed with a few cows and a chicken coop. The house was having electrical connection. His father came out hearing the sound of our car stopping; with folded palm he led us to the front room. It had two cane chairs and a wooden cot. We took the cane chairs, Joy went inside to arrange tea. His father who was more or less of my age sat on the cot and inquired the reason of our visit. I explained him how we were surveying the availability of rice husk in Burdwan and our subsequent visit to Mandal’s rice mill, where we met his son.
My curiosity was about Indigo farming so I eagerly asked senior Biswas, “Other than rice what other crops your forefathers grew, let us say a century back.”
“I heard from my father that my great grandfather was growing Indigo plants, it will be around 1840 or so. The Mandal family was the zamindar and he was representing an East Indian Company to collect the produce from here.”
“Yes I have seen the Neel Kuthi of Mandal’s. From the books I understand the farmers were not very eager to plant Indigo as that would mean not planting paddy.” I said.
“Yes we were forced to plant Indigo in major part of our land. As you know our lands are very fertile, being very near to the river , found to be suitable for Indigo farming by British. Those white men with their Indian accomplish like Mandal would force all the farmers to plant that wretched herb. They would give us dadan( sort of advance against a contract) and we will purchase seed with that money.”
“Yes I read in Nil Darpan, the play by Dinabandhu Mitra, how the families were tortured to grow Indigo. The process of fermenting the leaves in vats, straining after fermentation and finally the sludge will be dried to form cakes as end product. The process of fermenting has to be completed before sun rise. It was a back breaking labour but farmers got hardly 2.5 % value of the market price.” I shared my bookish knowledge.
“Yes babu it was shear torture and so our ancestors revolted.”
“Yes I know, the Indigo revolt in1858 to 1860 against the British. By the way are you any chance related with Bishnucharan Biswas of Nadia who was one of the leaders of the revolution?”
“No babu but my great great grandfather gave shelter to a revolutionary who finally killed the Mandal, zamindar of that time, of the same family whom you visited.” He informed.
In the meanwhile his son had brought tea and some biscuits. We enjoyed their hospitality but my curiosity was not quenched, I wanted to see a plant.
“ Is there any Indigo plant around?”
“Yes, as a reminder we have a few of those in the corner of our field, but in the darkness of night I can’t take you there. Why don’t you come tomorrow morning?”
“Ok,we will come tomorrow.”
Taking leave from them we got into our car and drove off to Bolpur.
After finishing breakfast in Camelia hotel in Prantik we proceeded to our destination for project Indigo.
Senior Biswas was waiting for us,his son had left for his work in rice mill. We walked for about a kilometer deep in the village. We entered a paddy field, some palm trees were there by the side of a pond and a shrub. He took us near the shrub. The trees were two to four feet in height, green leafs, small pea like fruits. Biswas plucked a fruit and peeled it show small pods inside. He explained inside the pods are the seeds of the plant. They pluck the fruits for seeding of future plant and leafs are fermented to produce Indigo.
He explained,” The stench of the work vats, where the Indigoplants were putrefied, was so offensive that the processing area was kept more than a mile away from habitats. The odor from the rotting weeds drew flies and other insects.”
While he was explaining I was trying to imagine the toiling poor villagers in the field during those turbulent times. India was the major exporter of Indigo to Europe. East India Company had a monopoly on Indigo trade to the world. More than 80% produce was exported. In 1897 the export from Calcutta port peaked  over 9.5 million pounds.
We went back to his house. Then Biswas brought a letter which had yellowed by age was pasted on a parchment paper. It was a letter informing that one Subinoy was happy by the treatment he got from Biswas family so he was leaving behind a handi full of some precious substance known as Blue Gold which was costlier than gold. He has buried it in the courtyard. After reading the letter I looked up at him and asked, “Could you find it?”
“No, I could not.”
I smiled at him and said, “Keep trying to find out. The vessel may fetch money but the content will be of no use to you now.”
“Why, he wrote it is costlier than gold.”
“Yes it was costlier than gold when he wrote this letter. The vessel contains Indigo which was costlier than gold in 1850s or so. That is the reason it was called Blue gold then.” I informed him with a twinkle in my eyes.
I could see he was upset by my observation.
We thanked Biswas and drove back. On the way back I was thinking though British government had banned Indigo cultivation by 1860 because of the peasant revolution and the graphic presentation of the plight of farmers in the play Nil Darpan which was translated in English and was presented to British parliament but still there were farming in Champaran,Bihar.As a matter of fact Mahatma Gandhi started his first Satyagrah from Champaran, Bihar and Kheda, Gujarat in 1917 against Indigo farming.
Somehow I like visiting places connected with history but never imagined an obscure village of Bengal would ignite my interest so much.


   

Monday, August 01, 2016

Cows don't vote but Dalits do

Cows don't vote but Dalits do
....................................................
Sometimes one wonders whether BJP does not know this truth about vote bank but then one starts pondering whether there is some other game plan hatched by intelligentia. Let us firs admit Congress and Left has more intellectuals who can create khurafati in their stable than NDA and then look through the prism of dalit.
NDA came to power riding on the vote share of Dalit and other backward classes and certainly not the upper caste. The upper castes consider themselves as intellectual and secular so their vote share is fragmented. Looking at this some backroom boys of so called secular parties hatched this plan.
This Dalit thing started with Rohit Vermulla suicide and as the UP election is fast approaching so it is getting drummed up by ever obliging liberal press and channels. There is most urgent issue of floods in Assam,Bihar and Odisha but there is hardly any ground zero report. For the last 2 days i was surfing channels to get some real time feed on floods . All the channels were busy analysing either the issue of stone pelting in Srinagar and the ban imposed by small boys on the girls riding scooter in Kashmir or some cow related mob justice. Today i read in the paper that the new kid in the block Kanahiya is planning to launch all India movement on Rohit Vermulla so once again TV camera, discussion Azadi protest in Hyderabad,JNU,Jadavpur highlighting Dalit suppression etc will start.The well planned script is already written and if BJP is smart then they have to control the loose cannons in UP mainly as it does not matter much in rest of the state as of now. Hope Prashan Kishore is not scripting it, the other day Rahul found sitting wioth a grieved dalit woman in Gujrat but later on it came out that the woman was plant by the local congressmen and was not the real victims mother, so this game of inciting and advertising will go on till UP election.
Disclaimer; I am nether a cow rakhshakh or bhakhsakh.....i am just one of those who wears a different glass than what is offered by so called pseudo intellectuals. I am for free thinking , clean administration and livable neighbourhood.
This take is kind of take it or leave it.