तेरा जाना दिल के अरमानों का लुट जाना ! Parting protocol…!!!

Parting in style
by Rajbir Deswal
NOW that 2011 should be saying goodbye to us all, let us ponder a bit over parting protocol to be followed without which what is left in sensitive minds is an ever-lurking unfulfilled feel of a desire, besides a pinch of nostalgia to be experienced with a kind of negative stimulation later in life. Hence wise people make the parting moment charitable, memorable and at the same time such that doesn’t leave a sense of “O’ it could’ve been this way!” It applies to situations when you call it quits but some exceptional people have exceptional ways of executing parting.
Former Italian Premier Berlusconi, while transferring power to his successor effected a smoother and musical transition. On the last day of his office, he sang “songs of love” for his fans and followers. He handed the reins of governance employing an enthralling performance and ensuring a kind of grand finale to his tenure; his checkered record of having been involved in a sex scandal, notwithstanding. Parting and departing verily are two different things
I am reminded of Dr. Faustus, who repenting being an actor with pure flesh and blood and enjoying un-tasted pleasures in the world, begs the Almighty, “My God! my God! look not so fierce on me!”
I am also reminded of Kaka Hathrasi, the famous humorist and poet, who in the town of Hathras in UP, told his near and dear ones, well- wishers and fans to let him depart from the world the way he lived here – jocularly. He had his mourners take him for his funeral reciting his poems with huge, uproarious guffaws, “which should rant the skies”. So they did, on his death.
A common refrain in the Army is “When you go home, tell them of us, for their tomorrow, we gave our today!” A movie made after the Chinese aggression of 1962 ‘Haqeeqat’ had a song Kar chale hum fida jano tan sathiyo / Ab tumhare hawale watan sathiyo which reverberates still, and more as a signature-song for all patriotic functions in our country.
Contrast the above scenario of departing with that of the Watergate protagonist, President Nixon, who remained glued to his chair with his upper limbs gone round and round with arms on the chair like a creeper coils around a branch or a trunk; and his lower extremities woven around the legs of the chair in a similar fashion. He at a later day had to untangle and go away unsung, and in the most unceremonious manner. The scene described here was the subject mater of a cartoon in those days.
Similarly General Musharraf extracted every tear and the last drop of sweat from his people while shedding his uniform first and then shedding his tenuous dictatorial stance. He could have sung a qawwalli —Teri mehfil men kismet azma ke hum bhi dekhenge, London!
Basheer Badr, the famous Urdu poet, has a couplet to his credit – Dushmani jam ke karo lekin ye gunjaish rahe, jab kabhi hum dost ho jayen to sharminda na hon.
Even the Bollywood movies have the hero fade away, crooning songs. And we all lap it up, singing along! When parting becomes inevitable, sing on, sing on and sing on! All hail Berlusconi!

Positive Indicators from the Khap-Panchayat Scenario

Postive Indicators frm the Khap-Panchayat Scenario

RAJBIR DESWAL

In the normal course, these panchayats are nothing more than kangaroo courts. Yet the diktats find acceptance

Adverse publicity seems to be making the Khaps more cautious, more saneReining in the Khap Panchayats

I was attending a seminar recently when I had cause to squirm. A representative from South India made a case for changing the name by which the grass-roots people’s organisations are called. He argued that Panchayats had got a bad name, especially since in some North Indian states, there were Khap Panchayats that had awarded death sentences to perfectly innocent young people, whose only fault was falling in love! I come from the land of Khap Panchayats, and I felt deeply embarrassed. The death sentence is pronounced by the Khap Panchayats, which adjudicate matters relating to a gotra across different villages, since there are perceived insults to clans or gotras, based on the transgression of conventional sexual mores. The speaker at the seminar, aghast that the bodies proclaiming such brutal punishment were called Panchayats, wanted the rather more benign bodies in South India to be renamed. But in the recent past, we have had two instances of good news that are worth taking note of. A court in Mathura, after a Haryana court in Karnal, which had passed sentence in the famous Manoj-Babli case, has dealt with an iron hand in another case of honour killing. The Mathura court on November 16 sentenced eight persons to death and 27 others to life imprisonment for killing a Jat-Jatav couple 1991. The ‘adjudicating’ Panchayat members allegedly did not appreciate the couple’s ‘audacious’ plea that they were in love; they wished to live together as man and wife. The Panchayat ordered them to be hanged to death; they were hung on a tree, then their dead bodies were dragged to the cremation ground. The court ruled that this case was among the ‘rare of rare’ ones. In another instance, a Sarvjatiya Sarvkhap Panchayat in village Bhainswal, Sonipat district, Haryana, has so far successfully averted a bloody feud between two rival groups. A Sarpanch has lost his life in this rivalry. The Panchayat, it is hoped, will be instrumental in having the accused person, now evading arrest, surrender. That is the agreement that has been reached. Of late, there is reason to think that the saner elements among the Khaps and Panchayats, feeling the heat of adverse publicity, have been rather more careful in deciding matters. In the normal course, these panchayats are nothing more than kangaroo courts; yet, its diktats are followed and the punishments it pronounces meted out; even when human blood is so often spilled in that process. It is a good development that at least in some instances, we see a less blood-thirsty form of justice dispensation from the caste courts. When, as a collective entity, these Panchayats are held guilty of bloodlust, the stain is perhaps hard to bear. And the role of the country’s judiciary in stepping in and righting some of these wrongs cannot be underplayed. To put these killings in perspective, it might be worthwhile to recall that there is one universal cultural taboo, across all societies - that is the taboo against incest. Each society might define the degrees of kinship between which sexual relations are forbidden differently, but the fact of treating some blood relations as out-of-bounds for a sexual relationship obtains, across all human societies. There is also great revulsion at the thought of breaking this taboo, which too is a deep-seated cultural trait. Those who break the law in matters sexual are treated to the most reprehensible reprimand and admonition. Honour killings are usually carried out against men and women found to break these traditional barriers; they are seen as despicably pernicious, unfit even to live after the act is committed.Expressing concern over the manner in which gory punishments were meted out to young couples for transgressing these traditional boundaries, the Punjab and Haryana High Court recently issued directions to the authorities, particularly about the life, safety and security of those who perform what have come to be called ‘run-away’ marriages. The court has directed that the arrest of the boy in such cases be deferred, until a statement is obtained from the girl whom parents often allege, was ‘abducted’. Any social group that hives off and becomes a ‘ghetto’ willtend to be extra-sensitive about upholding its ‘honour’. The proper assimilation of groups into a larger sense of nationhood would aid in eroding such brutality, as the crime itself will become less reprehensible as it will not strike at the root of the collective identity as sorely.A greater understanding and sympathy for practises in other communities, other societies, would leave people with far greater reserves of tolerance, in my opinion. It is when caste groups operate with a notion of threat that they end up taking on each other.There are also other considerations of a purely pragmatic nature that would help end such brutality that is held as acceptable by caste groups. When the runaway couple leave their traditional homes and set up home elsewhere, they are quite often left alone to do as they please. If the ‘law-breakers’ continue to live in close proximity with those who hold that they have transgressed laws and deserve punishment, they are more often than not going to face the wrath of the angry people. The gravity of the misdemeanour is usually also inversely proportional to the distance between the locations of the two caste groups. When the offending people are not constantly in the presence of the elders whom they have offended, they have a far greater chance of leading normal lives, less scarred by hate and punishment. A girl found running away from home to enter into a relationship with a man may have a tough time finding acceptance again. She could be left to fend for herself, or married off to someone against her wishes, forcefully. The risk to the girl is also cited as a reason for why the boy deserves to be killed. There is, however, nothing that cannot provoke murderous ire in such circumstances. Even a bad word about the offending caste group could invite violence. Given this scenario, it is just as well that we have some sanity from Karnal Mathura and Bhaiswal.

I in Big Boss Family with Sunny and Swami--Why not?

What a rise my countrymen!
by Rajbir Deswal
(IN THE TRIBUNE)
FRIENDS, I have come to praise Swami and Sunny, not to lampoon them. They are honourable man and woman, respectively. Though the Swami is out of the House but he dubbed the redoubtable parliamentarians as being not a shade better than the members of the celibate-spiritualist’s new-found family of Big Boss. They, too, are honourable men.

The Swami had chosen to be among the chosen few. The chosen few are sure honourable men. Dolly, Shakti, Khalee, Veena are all honourable men and women. The Swami dons saffron and Sunny almost nothing. All men in saffron are honourable men. All women donning nothing, too, are honourable women.

The Swami once gave the impression that his worth was no less than an Anna. After all, Anna is also an honourable man.

I have come to bury bossism, not to endorse it. But suppose if I myself were to be in Big Boss’s family. Wait a minute! Let me rejoice at the thought of it. Let my soul come back to me. The Swami, too, must have fantasised. Sunny made no bones about it and declared that she couldn’t believe she was in India. But I am also no less an honourable man.

So here I go, sharing with you what I would have if I were to be there in that sanctum-sanatorum. Even that is a sacred Man-sion . House is a name given to a place where ugly brawls keep taking place. Isn’t it, the Swami?

Okay then! I wouldn’t laugh but grin, showing my smart denture less on things not laughable and more on silly mishaps. If someone cracked a joke, I would ask it to be repeated. And then not laugh at all. And change the topic to ‘save the environment’.

I would talk less sense and more profundity and would look for reactions. If someone really understood me, I would rubbish it and give my own explanation of my concept, shouting and howling.

All my expressions should betray what has been there in my mind. Total hypocrisy at play, I must declare. I should keep throwing tantrums but at times look serene to convey that I had variety in me. I should be careful not to be emotional. I must rejoice at the very ouster, and not shedding of a tear, to look normal. My expressionless face should confuse the cameras.

Even realising being rude in my conduct with others, I would try to be still worse. I would make faces at my detractors when they did not look towards me while my jogging would continue with thumping in my training shoes. I would keep in mind my opponents while chopping vegetables. I should not miss out on making sentences having unparliamentary expressions — Big Boss would take care to ‘beep’ them.

I don’t know if they serve drinks there, but I would make sure that I looked inebriated to be excused for my ‘civilised’ behavior if at all I indulged in realising little that it was a reality show. I would look more anglicised and less ‘desi’, for once I have chosen that style, there should be no looking back.

Lastly, I would not mind what was fair and what was foul even if I had to take a lesson or two in the art of choosing a platform more profitable than Ahem, Ahem…! That round-round building in the Capital — saying it in a roundabout manner! Right, Swami?

OF UNWORTHY FRINEDS

OF UNWORTHY FRINEDS
(IN DAILY POST)
Rajbir Deswal‘
She looked white. Run down. Weather beaten. A hoary picture with scars. She buttonholed me on my stroll. “I lost my father!” she told me. “Oh, I am sorry!” I said and asked, “Do you want to inform someone? “ My hand drifted towards the pocket for my mobile phone.

“Do you live here?” I sought to know as I hadn’t ever seen her in that house. “No, I live in Sector 4, house number 56!” she said, her voice trembling. She was restless. She wiped her parched lips with her hands, every now and then. She kept looking at the main entry of the house she was standing at.

“When did it happen? Do you want a doctor called in?” I asked her. “It’s been a year now! But it feels as if it happened just now!” she said. I was taken aback. I pulled my hand out of the pocket, dropping the mobile phone there itself. Many women in the neighbouring houses were standing at their gates and exchanging glances and nasty smiles while looking at me talking with the woman.

Things were beginning to become clear in my mind. I began to feel uncomfortable too, not with what I was then indulging in, but that people around should be thinking I am a fool. “Did she lose her mental balance after the tragedy?” I thought to myself and asked her, “What do you want me to do?”

“Just call them from inside,” she said pointing at the door of the house we were standing outside. “They were my father’s best friends. They had been with us through all ups and downs. They stood by us when my marriage hit a rough patch. They had even promised help in case my father didn’t survive his cancer. They are a decent couple. My father and uncle were best of colleagues, known more as pals,” she said. The door didn’t open. The lights went off.

I was at sea and couldn’t instantly decide what to do. I tried to wriggle out fearing her father’s friends may not like my intrusion in their personal matter. And if the neighbours’ glances were so conforming to a weird thing happening, then they must have a reason for it. “But would they not mind a stranger like me calling them when you already know them? I mean when they are your father’s friends, then they should definitely help you!” I said to her and began to walk my way, so very nonchalantly.

She was, as if, waiting for a reassurance. She was as if wanting some endorsement of her views. She was, as if, wanting to justify her presence at her diseased father’s friends place. Excitedly, she told me, “Yes, exactly. They should help me. And who else would, if not them? But why aren’t they opening the doors and coming out?” She started snapping her fingers and leapt to press the call bell yet another time.

Having waited for a response for a few moments, she turned to me,” Don’t worry, I will manage. After all, it’s me who has to manage. You may go. Thank you very much indeed!” She excused herself, stretching a very genuine and not purpose-manoeuvered smile, either reading my thoughts or realising that I was yet another unworthy friend. I had already moved away from her. Unmoved.

Of rat-killers,pied-pipers & scare-crows

Set an animal to catch an animal, instead of human Pied Pipers !
By: Rajbir Deswal
(IN HINDUSTAN TIMES)
Though he gets paid for his services to his clients, to earn a little more he doubles as a rat-killer by night. I am talking about Prateik Babbar in the film Dhobi Ghat. This character from Mumbai takes my mind all across to Srinagar, a city where the dog count is said to be some 80,000, as against a human population of 1.4 million.
There's now news that ten vacancies for the post of city dog-catchers have been advertised after the Jammu and Kashmir High Court directed the government to create dog-pounds. This, after the court feared that the dogs “will be stoned to death“ by locals. Dogged by the demand of R20 crore by the selfstyled Pied Piper of Kashmir, Khursheed Ahmed Mir, the government had to finally have a re-think on the issue. Hence, the headhunting exercise for career dog-catchers and the picking of the finest for the job at a talent hunt in the offices of the Srinagar Municipal Committee.

Sometime ago, I had seen a TV show, which was a `success story' about a town in Africa infested with nettlesome insects that made the townspeople live in misery.
The mayor stumbled on to a brilliant idea: of increasing the population of an insect-eating bird. The municipality there had bird-houses (not cages) put up in vertical rows on stakes, pillars and poles with enough bird feed to go around. They also passed a local resolution not to torment, injure and kill the birds. And sure enough, lo and behold! when the bird population swelled, it almost wiped out the entire insect menace.

They have a langur on the payroll to scare away the brown monkeys inside and outside Yojna Bhawan in New Delhi. In a town in Punjab, residents had hatched a plan to feed the monkeys something that made them infertile, which stopped them from multiplying. But thanks to that legendary force called `Hindu sentiments', there were no buyers for the idea that was seen in some quarters to be antiHanuman. In my village, we had a problem with monkeys for five years. They became so audacious that they started attacking women, children and even lathi-wielding men. It continued till the time the whole village stood up against them by kettling -a police technique used to contain a large, unruly crowd, gherao being a kind of desi version of it. One by one, with a little nudging, the monkeys surrendered themselves, offering no resistance, with some of them feigning being unconscious. They were taken in sacks and transported to a faraway place.

Animals seem to adapt better than food-price-affected humans. The scarecrows don't frighten birds for long, and other creatures catch on pretty quickly.
So it's better to use animals to stave off other animals. Otherwise, you're left with the option of some Pied Piper pretending to be an expert against pests.