A short trip to God...

It is said that you cannot visit Shirdi unless the Baba wills it. Probably He willed it for us, because one fine Saturday found us on the bus to Shirdi. The bus departed from my town at 9.30 in the night. It was one of my traveling fantasies come true. I had always longed to go on a long drive at night.

So there we were, me and my husband, sitting snugly in the A/c bus. We both were listening to songs. I listened to my favourite one, ‘Bekaraar’ from the movie ‘Paathshaala’. I kind of like its meaning, that, even though we try to forgot the past and learn to live, there is still some kind of restlessness in us.

The bus journey was comfortable (apart from the pathetic situation of a woman traveling with us who realized it very late that she was allergic to bus rides and spent the entire journey retching). We reached Shirdi at 4 in the morning. You can feel that you have arrived in Shirdi. There is something divine in the air. Baba has left the imprint of his divinity there. All local shops, inns, hotels are named after Sai. Sai Electricals, Hotel Sai Yatri, Hotel Sai Plaza, Hotel Sai Leela, Hotel Sai Gangotri…. Probably, the owners’ way of paying a tribute to their Source of livelihood.

We found the hotel packed in the morning. There were common fresh-rooms for those who didn’t want to rent rooms. However, even those were crowded. Hence we decided to rent a room. The manager hesitated when we asked the rates and then told us that it would cost us Rs.350 per hour. Baba, even your home is not free from loot and corruption… but it feels wrong to crib about giving money to your people. We realized that we were being looted, but still couldn’t voice the thought. We were in Shirdi, and every localite seemed to be belonging to Baba. We rented the room for just an hour and were informed that we can keep our bag in the hotel’s locker for free.

We refreshed ourselves within half-n-hour and went to keep our bag in the locker. We received another rude shock. We were not supposed to keep our mobiles in the bag. The hotel ‘didn’t want to take the responsibility’. We were then informed that we can keep our valuables in a shop near the temple. The hotel arranged a mini-van to transport us to the temple.

The van directly halted in front of a shop where we were promptly guided to remove our chappals and keep our mobiles inside a safe. While leaving, the shopkeeper thrust a basket of laddoos, sweets, coconut and a saffron-cloth and demanded that we pay Rs.171.

We realized too late that the best way to go to Shirdi is empty-handed, without any valuables or mobiles. Anyways we paid the shopkeeper and left for Darshan.

It was 5 in the morning and it was still dark. The temple has a beautiful garden in the entrance. We moved briskly to stand in the queue for Darshan. Being Sunday, there were many people in the line.

The best part of standing in a queue in Shirdi is, you keep on moving and hence do not feel tired of standing in the line. People shouted at regular intervals, ‘Sai Baba ki Jai’ and ‘Sainath Maharaj ki Jai’. For a minute, I felt a pang, seeing the faith-filled faces of the devotees standing in the line. I yearned for that childlike faith that these people seemed to be having. They reminded me of what I had lost and probably cannot gain. I was ordained to learn that we alone are creators of our destiny and the power to change the situation is in our hands. It was a comforting thought in the childhood that God will take care of our problems. Some wonderful, marvelous people do manage to stick to this, throughout their life. Weaker ones like me immediately lose this belief and become ‘practical’. Yes, it is a weakness to doubt, while holding on to faith is a mark of one’s strength.

Anyways, the line kept on moving slowly but continously. We climbed two floors and then, when we entered through a door, we saw the Baba at a distance, sitting serenely for His devotees. I raised my hands above my head in a namaste the moment I saw Him, I couldn’t help it. The line moved nearer and nearer to Baba. I forgot all thoughts, all prayers. I just stared hungrily into the most compassionate Face that I will ever see. He seemed to be saying, ‘I know, but I am there with you.’ It didn’t matter that I had nothing to ask from Him (I am ‘practical’, right?). I just folded my hands and continued gazing at Baba’s face. We could get his Darshan from a very close angle. Nothing seemed to matter there, in His presence. We took his Darshan as long as the harassed guards permitted us.

Then we came out of the room and headed for Dwarkamai, which has the stone where Baba always used to sit and which houses the sacred Dhuni which Baba ignited, that still burns today. There were other small temples inside, a Ganesh temple, Shiva’s temple and Shani Dev’s temple. We visited all these and came out of the temple at 07.30 in the morning, our minds and hearts fresh.

I felt the first pangs of hunger. We had puri-bhaji for breakfast and a cup of coffee. We returned back to our hotel to wait for our bus which was supposed to take us to Shingnapur before heading off to our home town. I was a bit apprehensive about going to Shingnapur. I had heard rumours about how Shani Dev punishes the sinful. People either fall in Shingnapur or some other ill befalls them, so I had heard. (You realize that some people hold fast to such beliefs rather than having faith in the goodness of God?) anyways, I was praying inwardly to Shani Dev to not to punish us (we all are sinners, no doubt of that!) My name was sure to be in the top of his list…

The bus left the hotel at 10. I prepared myself for another joyful long drive. The minute the bus started, I fell asleep. I woke up after 2 hours or so and groggily looked out of the bus to understand where we were. The scene drove out all sleep from me.

The bus was moving in a road surrounded on both sides by sugarcane fields. The leaves were dancing to a gentle breeze and the sky was exhibiting some of the most wonderful cloud formations I have ever seen. It was like a painting, only, much more beautiful. I looked out, hoping to catch a house without doors (the houses in Shingnapur do not have doors, such is the faith of the localites). I was disappointed to find very few houses without doors. Mostly the bus traveled through roads with fields beside them. It was a pleasant surprise to find that Shingnapur, mostly thought of as a dry village, showed much more greenery than we Mumbaites can expect or take.

Soon, too soon, we reached the temple. I got apprehensive again and silently prayed to Shani Dev before getting down from the bus. We were told to remove our chappals inside the bus itself. My husband Vishal and the other guys in the bus went to fresh rooms to bath and came out wearing saffron-colored cloths. It seems that women are not supposed to touch men after they bath. The rebel inside me woke up hearing this but I immediately settled down, for we were standing at the temple of the most ferocious and disciplinary lord in Hindu mythology. I wasn’t going to provoke Him!!!

We all marched towards the temple. The ground was boiling hot and we almost ran. When it became unbearable, I prayed to Shani Dev to give us strength. Was it my belief, or imagination or truth, I don’t know, but the moment I took his name, the heat from the ground became bearable. My feet would start stinging after some time due to the heat and when I thought about Shani Dev, there would be a definite decrease in the amount of heat and I could keep my legs in the ground for more than ten seconds! Was I becoming a believer?

We went inside the temple. The guys had a separate line for pouring oil into the deity. The deity of the temple, as I realized and saw after five minutes, was a three-foot stone shila of Shani Dev, mounted high on a pedestal in the middle of the temple. We ladies were not allowed to go near the deity. Only those men, who had bathed and who were wearing the saffron-coloured cloth were allowed to climb the pedestal, touch the deity and pour oil over the same.

The stone seemed to be remitting rays of strength, I could feel it. I stood as long as possible in the side and stared at it, feeling a sense of awe and mystery. My fear of the God left me completely. The stone seemed to symbolize power, steadfastness and discipline. I silently bowed in thanks to the God for getting rid of my fear. Never again am I going to fear going to Shingnapur.

We left the temple and had lunch at a Dhaba. It is best recommended that you carry some light snacks with you when you go to Shirdi and Shingnapur. The food is not up to the mark but we really cannot complain. All the localites have is faith and nothing else. They are poor basically, in monetary matters. Spiritually, they are the richest people you can hope to find in Maharashtra. Theirs is a faith, inherited over generations, passed on to every new generation living there. We ‘practical’ people, have literally no place there. We belong to the city where people have faith in all wrong persons or things. We believe that the train that we have boarded will safely deliver us to our office (‘I will reach in another fifteen minutes, don’t let the client go!’. We believe that those whom we vote will take care of the state. We believe our bosses that they will promote us and cater to their nonsensical whims and needs. It doesn’t occur to anyone for a second, to believe in a Power much more higher and stronger than these.

The drive back to home was the best route I have ever rode or seen. We passed through numerous fields and after a while, clouds started forming in the sky. There were narrow winding roads, small rivulets, coconut trees, banana trees and hills. There were even forests but to glimpse a wild animal would be too optimistic. The animals are safer in their haven and it is best for them to stay away from animals wilder than themselves who apparently kill for no reason at all.

The bus then entered Malshej Ghat, one of the prominent tourist locations in Maharashtra. The scenery is spell-binding. Clouds pass so low that they hide a major portion of the hill and at one point, our bus actually passed through clouds! It was amazing to see nothing but vapour around you. I hastily took as many snaps as possible with my cellphone. The snaps are a poor caricature to the original beautiful scenery that we saw. It was like we were in another world, free of civilization with nature at its best. There were no houses or people, only hills and clouds. There were several small waterfalls that made the scenery look too beautiful to be true. It was the most beautiful experience I ever had.

After a while, the hills started receding and there were definite marks of the city. Thinning trees, barren lands, cars and bikes honking continously, more buildings and less trees… it felt like we came back to earth after a wonderful time spent in heaven.

I still have not become a believer (It is hard to believe when you are living in a city – is my best defense for not having faith). But I learnt that God is there, and you see Him in whatever form you want. For me, though He may not be a wish-fulfilling God, He will always be the Source of my strength in difficult times. It is not necessary for Him to fulfill all my needs, it is enough that He be there with me always…

A cup of coffee and some memories...

There is nothing more irritating than to come early to office, only to find that the systems are not working and there is nothing you can do except to sit and wait for the system to start. So here I am, at my desk, waiting for my damn system to start functioning.
Man, sitting idle can really make you think… right now, I am thinking of what I am doing here and why I am here. I should be at my home, at my mother’s place, drinking hot coffee prepared by my mom. Those were nice days when mom used to give coffee in the mornings… refreshing, hot and strong, homemade coffee. Nothing can surpass the taste of that coffee.
Mornings were cozy in those days. Though my alarm clock faithfully rung at 5.45 every morning, I never got up before 6.15. Believe it or not, but brushing your teeth at 6.20 in a cold winter morning can be quite a torture… the cold water sends shock waves to each and every tooth till your mouth feels like a rattlesnake’s den. And watching your own groggy, flushed-up face in the mirror while brushing! I mean, how worse can it get…!
After this torture, sweet reward! The whole kitchen used to be a mixture of smells of strong coffee, vegetables boiling in imli water (for sambaar) and hot daal just boiled in the cooker. This happens even today. My mom’s hair would be usually tied to a towel as it would be wet. She looks very beautiful… a big bindi adorning her forehead, lots of sindoor in her wet hair, cotton saree worn casually. I miss hugging my mom in the morning. She would be warm, owing to standing near the gas and cooking.
After drinking coffee, I would again snuggle up into my bed for a small nap. It used to feel delicious… beside me, my sister would be sleeping cozily… all wrapped up in a warm, cozy blanket. She looks very beautiful and peaceful while sleeping. I miss seeing her sleeping…
My verandah is a haven for all kinds of birds. Mornings were delightful and lively with birds chirping excitedly to begin the day. I remember the days of my college when me and my best friend would study together in my verandah. Sometimes I used to get up as early as 4.00 a.m. and start prowling in the gallery with a book in my hand. I used to get a creepy sensation walking alone in the dark. At such times, I would hear my friend’s footsteps, assuring and announcing that she is coming. You have absolutely no idea what a relief it used to be when she came!
By the way, a challenge for you… just try to stay awake reading Economics in a cold winter morning at 5.00 a.m.… if you can do this, you can do anything in this world!
It was while studying in the verandah, me and my friend both developed a liking and interest for nature and planes… It was fun to watch different kinds of birds and hear their different songs. It was thrilling to watch airplanes cutting through clouds and their majestic roar. After a while, we could identify the airlines by seeing the plane and also knew their timings. No wonder my friend went into airline sector for a career…
And those pretty little birds! They were of various colors… bright yellow, fiery red, flashy orange, coal black! The black one sang beautifully. Its tune lasted for full five seconds. The same tune would be sung again and again, filling the air with a divine note of harmony. I still hear that song sometimes in the distant memory of my mind. Imagine how relaxing it must feel to hear that beautiful and heavenly note while pondering about Alfred Marshall and his killer theories!
Mom never let me stay on empty stomach. In every hour, biscuits, coffee and some other bits of snack would follow. Though they seemed to be source of disturbance those days, now I long for the same. You can get biscuits in any shop but when mom serves it with a cup of steaming hot coffee, the warmth that envelopes you is simply delicious. Why do we value and long for those things which time takes away from us?
Another beautiful memory etched in my mind is going to school riding on my dad’s scooter. Me, my sister and my brother would leave together for school in the morning in my dad’s scooter. My brother would stand in the front of the scooter while me and my sister would sit behind, my sister in front of me. On the way to school, there was a lane which required climbing a bit. This would cause my sister to fall back on me, leaning her head on my shoulder. Her cheek would be pressed to my face. It was difficult to resist that fat, little, soft and white cheek with its powdery fragrance and I would kiss her. This became a daily routine. This is one beautiful memory which nothing can erase. I wish to go back in time, to the lane again and to kiss that child…
Have you seen a thick beam of sunlight falling into the ground? It happens in my home always. The beam is full of particles which move frantically when you move your hand through the beam. My hall would always be bathed in a lovely thick divine ray of sunlight which flew in through the window. Indeed a very beautiful phenomenon… Mr.Hiranandani, a question to you… with due respect to your majestic structures, can they bring this beauty to any home?
The season that leads me into nostalgia the most is summer. Especially the time before summer when it is neither hot nor cold. When there is noon for some time and next you find clouds blocking the sun while passing through. Summers were fun-filled as well as tiring. No schools, no homework, only playing all day and watching lots of T.V…. We used to take cycles on hire and ride them joyfully. It was fun to ride bicycles. The thrill of riding one on your own for the first time cannot be explained. Falling down from the cycle was considered as a mark of honor and if one got hurt, nothing to be more proud of! The guy/gal would be the centre of attraction for the whole day and would be literally worshipped by the other kids. A question to ponder: how many kids do you see in cycles today? The little ones barely turn 15 and you see them racing in pulsars or Hondas or what not… sadly, the simple charm of the cycle cannot stand in the way of the roaring pulsar…
While days went by in cycling and playing hide-n-seek and fighting, evenings were spent in quiet and serious exploration of the sky. A bunch of wanna-be astronauts, we would lie in the open terrace in the evenings, pondering about why there are some many hues in the sky, what is the height of the blue ceiling, what lies beyond that , what would happen if the gravitational force stops working one day (that sure terrified us out of our wits!)… I still remember the excitement and happiness in our first spotting of the constellation, ‘The Great Bear’. We had read it in our books about the constellation and that day when we all spotted it, counting the seven stars, we all shouted in unison with excitement. After all, it was the first step for us budding astronauts! I vividly remember, once we all stood staring into the sky, to see when it gets dark and when its color changes. We all kept staring and never realized when it turned dark! We could recognize various patterns among the stars. There was a group of three stars which were placed in a horizontal line and the distance between all the three was exactly same, or so it appeared while seeing from below. I still see that group and think about my friends…
Then there were those sad moments too when some friends shifted to new homes. When a friend moves away, a part of you also goes with him/her. Though fortunately I have many good friends, I had the misfortune too of saying goodbye to a lot many. Time and distance cannot dim the light of friendship; however, it makes a great difference when two friends separate. A part of childhood fades away forever.
All the above seem to be a part of a dream stored somewhere in the hazy depths of memory… But the dream resurfaces… whenever this heart is down in despair or the soul is tired of the daily insipid routine of life, this dream resurfaces in the consciousness like a breath of fresh air.
And while I am sitting in office now, getting all nostalgic and writing this really long story or events or whatever you say, I know that when it gets very tough and complicated to carry on in life, I can always dive back into the depths of memory and go back into time, lying in the terrace with my friends, pondering seriously about what would happen if gravity ceases…

The foundation of a passion...

She was thin and pale with long dark curly hair and a pleasantly smiling face. What I liked most about my English teacher was her voice... It was crystalline and melodious... like waves playing gently in the sea or wind chimes swaying lazily with the evening breeze.

I was in the seventh standard when i had her first as my English teacher. Thereafter, till my SSC, she was the only English teacher I had in my classes. Every year, on the first day of opening of school, all students would be anxious about which teacher would teach particular subject. The moment, my teacher entered the class, all students would cheer happily and she would smile lovingly, a radiant expression in her fair face. She would then search among the top rows, for there was where I used to sit always and the moment she saw me, she would smile knowingly and I would feel as if her eyes are asking the unasked question, 'So we meet this year too ha?'.

Her way of teaching was quite innovative. While teaching, she would pause if she came across any difficult word. She would then ask us the meaning of the word. Obviously, nobody would know. So, our homework would be to check the dictionary at home and find out its meaning and also use it appropriately in any sentence of our own. In a way, this was the foundation of my liking for the subject, I think. Learning the meaning of a new word every day was a sheer delight.

English subject, at that time, was a mass of comprehensions, essays, poems and questions. I could no longer byheart any answers for now there were 'factual' questions which required the readers to vent out their views on the topic asked. I had very abnormal views about any topic. Yet, my hand would be the first one to shoot up as soon as any question was asked. I would proudly proclaim my views in front of the whole class but not once did my teacher rebuke me or say that my views are wrong. She always made it a point to say that my views are different from others and would say so as a compliment.

I remember one incident very well. I shared my bench with two girls, Bindiya and Shalaka. Shalaka was the daughter of our drawing teacher Mrs. Kulkarni who had the reputation of being very sharp-tongued and rude. Shalaka was very arrogant and dominating and always fought with every one. One particular day, we three were playing a game during recess and Shalaka lost to me in the game. Both me and Bindiya cheered ourselves heartily and didnt notice Shalaka slip out of the classroom, teary-eyed.

Soon the recess ended and our English lesson started. After some time, Mrs. Kulkarni straight away rushed inside the classroom and came beside our bench where we three were sitting. She asked Shalaka, 'Who is this Deepa?'. Shalaka quietly pointed her finger at me. Then started a tideous tirade of why am I playing such silly games and how it is very bad to make fun of losers. She shouted at me for about fifteen minutes in front of the whole class and then marched out after venting her anger.

Having been humiliated in front of the whole class, my eyes threatened to fill up with tears which i hastily tried to blink away. It didnt help that my English teacher was looking at me with a kind expression on her face. I was inwardly praying that my teacher shouldnt say anything sympathetic to me as I was sure to break down. I didnt want to cry in front of the class.

To my surprise, she cleared her throat and started teaching. When she came to the section of 'factual questions', she directed all her questions at me. Very soon, I was back to my normal self as I started giving one foolish logic after another. After every answer, she gave a proud nod and to my astonishment, she started to defend and explain my logic as well. I cant forget this incident. Two teachers.... one humiliated me in front of the entire class and the other one made me stand proudly again in the midst of the same class...

It pains to remember that she was not there in the send-off party of my batch... for some reasons, she couldnt attend the same.. and here i was... having prepared an entire speech of thanks specially for her...

I met her after the results came... I had scored 80 / 100 in English and the highest marks in English were 81 in my school... When i informed her about my score, she was very happy... but the best compliment to me was when she asked, 'Why didn't you get 81?' To know that she actually expected me to get highest marks in her subject was an exhilarating feeling...

Thereafter, I met her after many years when i went back to school to take the results of my cousin who was also studying in the same school.... I had learnt from her that my English teacher taught her too... And there she was .... sitting in a chair with her head bent to check the enormous load of answer papers which she was distributing to all the anxious parents and siblings... I informed her my cousin's name and without looking up, she searched for her papers and gave them to me... I waited for some time till the crowd dispersed and finally spoke to her.

'M'am?' ... She turned her face upwards and looked at me questioningly. The face hadnt changed at all... though the hair was not only black but now carried a few strands of grey... She was still the same frail-looking woman with the pleasant face... But this time, she had some difficulty recognizing me.

'M'am... I have been your student. My name is Deepa.'

She seemed to have recognized this familiar face but couldnt remember quite distinctly. She smiled tiredly. 'I know you were my student but I am sorry that we teachers have very poor memories about the names of their students.' It pained me a bit to know that she didnt remember me. But then I realized that there might be hundreds whom she influenced with her kind nature. She might not remember every one. And I went back to her after almost a decade. i was no longer the two-plaited and fat little kid who gave the most ridiculous answers to her.

I then asked her, 'How r u M'am?' ... She said, 'Still the same as u might have noticed... the same school, the same subject but not the same students, isnt' it?' She laughed pleasantly. She then asked about my job and other general issues. Finally, I had nothing to say more.

'Ok then M'am... I will leave now... Just wanted to meet you thats all'...

She sent me off happily and that was the last time I met till date.

My cousin's classes started again after a week. The teacher mentioned to her class that one of her old students had come to meet her during the results and that this had made her very happy and proud. I was delighted to hear this from my cousin.

Her name is Usha and I know that she must still be teaching in the school and may be she is patiently listening to the ridiculous answers of another fat kid with plaits....