Unforgettable

Time has changed. Once you would cast your vote, now you vote for caste.

The concept of Donation

     At the heart of Hinduism,  beats the concept of charity. How we connect to God is through donation and how we donate forms the crux of being religious. The society works well only if people do their duties, and this is completely different from donations. So, where do we draw the thin line? Is charity not our duty? This is something my family priest explained once very well and I hope to share this concept of donation with you all.

     He said, "When you have leftover food, time, money or clothing, it is your duty to give it to others who need it. Donation occurs when you have a valid need for these objects but still give it to others who need it. "

     In fact Hindu scriptures advise going out of the house and shouting three times, " Is any one hungry ? Please come and take your meal! " before one sits down to have a meal. And every time we sit down to eat we offer others first, not caring for our hunger. This thing is so ingrained in Hinduism that we do it involuntarily.
   
     In a true incident that strengthened this belief of mine, on a long and arduous trek me and friend got lost. And we came across an old man carrying a disturbingly heavy bundle of wood to the village. He gladly told us where to go. And he added, after helping us, "please come and eat with me. I will feel bad if I do not share it." So we went over and we saw a tiffin box which contained one small bhakri and an onion. The feeling of sorrow and shame overcame us, as we were carrying so much food with us. We told him we would rather leave it all for him. He became visibly upset that we refused. He became upset that we said no to sharing the little portion of meal he had for himself.
    Imagine yourself in this position where an old guy who can afford just one bhakri for lunch after having carried a load of wood heavier than himself, is sitting down and offering to share his food and gets upset when we refuse to eat. In the end we had a morsel and gave him the food we had and left.

     And we left changed, humbled Indians.

     These days we all crib, "I am so busy, I have no time!" But just imagine now staying up one hour late to do your homework and spend one hour each week teaching a poor kid English or Mathematics. It does not take a lot of time understanding that adding a little stress to your own life, at the cost of your own time, is nothing compared to how much the little kid will be benefited. This is because many times your time makes a bigger difference for someone else than it could ever do for you. 
      When a father gives his son twenty rupees to buy a toy worth fifteen rupees, and the son donates the remaining five rupees to someone, this does not count as donation. The child had been eyeing that toy for weeks and weeks and finally got money to buy that toy after convincing his dad. When that child sees a beggar on the street who hasnt had a meal in days, and decides to give his twenty rupees so that the beggar can have a meal, instead of buying his toy, that would be a good example of donation.

     Donation is never easy, charity rarely is an comfortable act. And that is why it is rightly said, “We only have what we give.” ― Isabel Allende
   
   
   
     

Corrupt Country

     It was a dedicated effort, and well directed. It was a sincere effort, and well orchestrated. It was aptly advertised and cleverly caused. People were called out into the streets, from different houses and localities. People of every religion and caste made their presence known. Man, woman, child---- all were there, agitated and ready to walk. But, something was missing. A sincere question to Mr. Hazare on his recent bout with the Government against corruption in the country- Really?

     India is a corrupt country not because of politicians. India is a corrupt country because India is a country of corrupt people. An agitation was not required. People are well aware of corruption. People are well educated about corruption. Every man in his life has encountered corruption and dealt with it. People are really very well aware that corruption haunts the streets of India, starting from getting admission into pre-school to getting a death certificate to prove a man is actually dead. Individuals and groups, people and the government have both been actively involved in this process. Corruption is all around us, because corrupt people are all around us.  People were all across television expressing anger against the government.So, lets assume for now the fight is against the government. But then again, we elected the government. Every one of us did. And we hold them responsible. You tell me you don t vote because it doesn't matter and I will tell you it matters much more.
   
     And this helps me modify my question for Mr. Hazare a little.
 
    What is your fight against, really? Is it corruption? Is it corrupt government? Is it corrupt people? Because, corruption cannot exist without corrupt government, which in turn is meaningless without corrupt people. and if you are indeed fighting against corrupt people, here I am. Come. We all have gone through corruption and been very active in corruption since our birth. Why in fact, for most of us our birth certificate was got by paying a bribe to a peon. We then go to school, where every day our mother and father bribe us with sweets and toys to get a good grade. In college, the police bribe us every time we drive without a helmet. For many of us, getting into the college of our dreams is impossible without corruption. Getting a job, getting promoted, getting a raise, everything now has incorporated corruption very easily.

     And we accept it. Which we shouldn't.

     And so, before we can even think of saying something as ridiculous as "We don't want corruption in the government" we should first have the guts to not pay a bribe when we break the signal.
 
     The question that needs a answer is which of the following is more dangerous- the government with a thousand crore rupee scam and a population all angry at it, or simple individuals who bribe a policeman for having broken the signal? This question might seem innocent but it has its roots for deep in the actual problem this country is facing.

   I hear a lot of people saying that when the Government gets caught in a million rupee scam the National pride is hurt and we as a nation are humiliated on a global scale. I contradict this, because I think that every time a foreign tourist sees a citizen who pays a bribe to get out of trouble, we as a nation are shamed much more.

     And lets assume for a minute that Mr. Hazare gets rid of corruption in the country. What next? Would we have an utopia? Would we have a country where everyone is happy? Would every one follow the rules now?

     Hardly.

     I can guarantee you that one day, when no one is taking bribes, there will be a person who wonders whether he can get a better deal. This will start a whole cycle of corruption and a struggle against it. More people will see that to get a better deal all you need to do is be corrupt. And why would you not do it? The system is bad, you can always convince yourself. Everyone is doing is, you can always console yourself to sleep. And so you join and drag with you, a multitude.
   
     A better approach in this case would be to not target corruption but the causes of corruption. We can spend time and think why we need to pay the bribe to a policewaala everytime we break a signal. Make the system of paying fines better. Give the policemen better wages so they do not have to take bribes. Keep on reviewing these changes after certain fixed times and make changes as needed. Make the citizens realize the seriousness of breaking a signal. Make the policemen realize the seriousness of not taking a bribe and fining the culprits to the full.

      Corruption will never go, but it will always teach us a lot about ourselves and our country. It acts as an extraordinary pointer to underlying causes of distress to people. It tells us where and how our system is failing. More importantly, it tells us where we can better ourselves and the system. We should learn as much as we can from this symptom of failure, because corruption is not a cause but a symptom.

     And so I always maintain this point of view- corruption can never leave us alone. We should not strive to be a country which is corruption free, but a country which is always striving to be corruption free.

Ed Lithium

home

so far away from people
but never alone
i return each day to my own house
but never my home


ed lithium

Bhakti

No words could help express

A poet's love for his wife

A man as mortal as me

Counts your smiles as my life

A life spent in your arms

I shall earn my goodwill in your smiles

But what is the need

Why should I heed

Warnings saying I need to do good to get into heaven

When I am in a heaven with you

Such is the love of a beautiful wife

A poet finds no words to spend

All a poet really wants 

Is a beautiful best friend

Ed lithium

Saffron Dadar

         How does a child grow up in Dadar?

        He speaks and breathes Marathi, a beautiful regional language which defines Dadar/Parel/Lalbaug localities in ways more than one. He may come from another state, another city or even another country but Marathi absorbs him quickly.

          He plays cricket in Shivaji Park or in his lane, breaking window panes, many a times on purpose. He fights his ways into crowded BEST buses and trains at the Dadar station, so much that he laughs at the crowd he sees at VT.

        He eats vada-pav, often hiding this fact from his mother who scolds him for not eating at home. He goes walking to school over Tilak bridge and laughs every time a woman driver makes a u-turn in a place she ought not to. But there is a very specific thing that he sees every day.

       And these things make sense in time.

     

      He sees a lion. He sees saffron flags. And he sees many posters of rather thin man, wearing saffron and white staring back at him in a way his grandfather does. He seems stern and contemplative. He looks old and sports a formidable moustache and beard. He is seen wearing thick shades of black and smoking a handsome cigar. He is seen addressing a million or greeting a few. He is seen with common people and celebrities. He is seen everywhere.

     At Sena Bhavan, which he passes every day, he sees his portraits hung at every corner. The place is a fortress with people with guns standing at every exit.
 
       The little boy is impressed and intrigued. Some times he sees the elder man walk out of the building into a sea of supporters and drive away. In that one minute the atmosphere of the place changes and the little boy wonders. And so he decides to go home one day and ask his family who the person is.

          His cousin tells him he is an evil politician with blood on his hands. His father tells him he is in charge of Mumbai. His grandparents regale him with stories of his speeches and rallies, stuff of regional legend. His mother gives him an interesting answer. He is, she says, you third grandfather. And this is a family who votes every year, a family where politics mix and mingle in every day conversation, a family suited for democracy. This is a family who is half from Maharashtra and half from Karnataka. A family who has lived and breathed Bombay. 

          And so, naturally, the child grows confused, but still in awe of the man who stops the city at his will. For the little child, he is an extremely powerful man because of whom he gets more holidays in the school year. As he grows older he is confused and frustrated he cannot take out his girlfriend on valentines day. He wonders why the name of his city changed. He wonders why there are shops shut on some days, why the trains halt on other. But as his thoughts progress he realized how much of his childhood has been spent in saffron. 

       In the city, at very frequent intervals, he sees forts and banners of the saffron kind. People are inside discussing, laughing and sometimes contemplating. He sees how one person from the fort goes and wakes up a lawyer from sleep so that a tensed student can get his papers attested in time. He sees a little child walk in and complain about improper water in the swimming pool and from the next day the problem is not heard of again. He hears stories, stuff of legends, of one person helps an entire state, an entire city, without thinking twice. A famous story, as is told, includes a mother who goes crying to the person. Her son, who she says has worked for the saffron brigade, needs money for an operation urgently. The person does not smile, blink or frown. He simply calls for his trusted aid and tells him to get the box. In the box is a lot of money and the person, without counting, gives the mother several handful of money. He does not even ask her once if her son actually works for him or not. All he sees is a mother in need. Such stories are innumerable.

      As he grows, his love for his city grows. He realizes something important. He sees a city change so rapidly, that children are teased if they speak Marathi instead of English. He sees a city where eating fastfood breakfasts. He sees children wiping the religious Tilak off their forehead before going to a rock show. Almost no one watches Marathi plays, very few watch Marathi movies and barely anyone can say in his college group if they want to discuss a P.L. Deshpande book. It becomes cool to get disgusted with history and culture. A city, the Marathi bastion, slowly bleeds.

     He wonders if that is how cities progress.

    One day, the person is no more. The city screeches to a halt.

   The air is muffled with grief. A million people gather on the streets, sobbing and crying. These are, not as expected by most, poor people in tattered clothes. These are youth, workers, taxi-drivers, housewives, mothers, professionals. Every strata of the city is seen on the streets. And the boy wonders, what has the person done to demand this?

     The answer given by his mother still echoes in his mind, hundreds of miles away.

     He was the person holding the city together. He loved the city more than he loved anything else and much more than any one could. He spent every minute of his waking day working to keep Marathi culture intact and viable. In the rapidly changing world, where there are very few things as sublime as culture, he fought to keep the Marathi tradition intact and tangible. He faced innumerable obstacles in his way, and made many enemies. But not one person who ever asked him for help was turned away. There can be no unity in diversity without unity. If you want India to be united, you need to have all stated united within themselves. That was the vision of the person.
     He wanted to take Mumbai to a global stage, but where Mumbai was still Mumbai. He dreamt of a world where people would cherish, embrace and propagate Marathi thought. And that would have to natural. It would not have to be forced. The logic is simple. In order to have a united country, first have a united house, then a united building, then a united city, then a united state. And after that, you can dream about a united India. And when we have a gift of diversity in India, it would be unwise to not use it to unite people. A united state would be in a better position to help the country than a divided land.
     It is very difficult to find people who love their land so much, and the loss is felt by the entire region. This is irrespective of whether you believed in the person or not.

    And there is no point in having a united country in you hate the place where you are born, if you hate what your mother-state has nurtured you with.

     This is not fact. This is not a recommendation of a line of thought. This is just an opinion by a boy who is now many miles away and still feels scared and tensed about what would happen now to his home state now that the saffron brigade has lost its hero.
     And he is very worried if he would be able to recognize his state when he goes back. Because it was only a few months before, if someone asked the boy "Why is Mumbai the best city in India?" , the boy would have replied, "Go to Dadar and see for yourself!"

Ed Lithium


   
   

     

Saffron State

In the Saffron state
As his body lay on the pyre
even the skies burned saffron to pay their respect

A million lives touched
He lived his life by a simple code
"Be proud to call yourself Marathi
and be proud to call Maharashtra your abode"

Misunderstood, misinterprated, misquoted,
Never underestimated, feared, respected,
We never need to thank him for all he did for for
For in a true Marathi household
We never thank our family for being there for us whenever we need

For many he gave strength and hope
When things looked bleak, he made us look harder
We may have lost the father of our nation years before
but today we lost our grandfather

Adopted an entire state, took care of each and every one
He brought people out from the cold, and right into his home
Helped people selflessly, loved unconditonally,
He dared to speak what everyone was too afraid to do themselves
He dared to speak out every Marathi mind

In the Saffron state
As the tiger roars no more,
What would happen to his house, we now suspect
As his body lay on the pyre
even the skies burned saffron to pay their respect
In the Saffron state
ed lithium