My Trip To India -Reminiscences"

I am back in Dubai after a fabulous 10 days in India .From the moment I stepped out from vestibule of the aircraft when it landed in Delhi , I had  felt the change .The faces ,the sounds and the smells .The people at the immigration were so different than the ones in Dubai –they had such familiar names pinned on their their shirts –Suresh Sharma who checked my passport looked at me and said “Dubai mein kyon ho .Hamare yahaan bahut school hai ,aap jaise logo ki zarrorat hai Sir” ,and smiled . He did not even know me –but that’s a Indian for you –complimentary at times  and abusive at others .!!He quickly stamped my passport as I exited .The hot  humid  air outside wrapped around me like a thick blanket  .I started to sweat  .It was quintessential Delhi as we wove our way through the chaotic traffic.My mother in law was waiting for me looking at every vehicle that came into her lane .It was nearly 11 pm !!.Welcome to India .!!

It was a whirlwind tour ,that took me up into the beautiful hills of Kandaghat to the beautiful home of my sister who has a summer house there .As I looked around me ,I saw huge ,tall and majestic pine trees .I could smell them .The mountains too made me feel what I sometimes forget – that i am very small and too insignificant and too intransigent in this universe .Mountains and nature  have lasted  millions of years .!!As always –sisters put forward their best foot to pamper their brothers .My sisters Kusum and Indu never lower the bar –they always raise it .Given their tastes and affluence –it was   like living  like a king for a few days .In Chandigarh and Kandaghat .

The celebrations continued at my in laws place at New Friends Colony ,Delhi.The lotus weed ("bheh" as we Punjabis call it ),paranthas and "kheer" which are perceived to be my favourite dishes were there for the eating .Pratique was born in a hospital  in New Friends .That was 21 years back .It brought back a flood of memories .The Community centre has been one of my favourite shopping and eating places .The dishes at Al Bake , Pebble Street ,Yum Yum Tree ,and Nathus , are legendary .The small barbeque just next to the Yum Yum Tree is out of the world .And the rasoogullas and golguppas of Nathus are mind blowing. I have been getting my clothes stitched  from Gargee Tailors in New Friends Colony for years  .Given my dimensions ,I never get a perfect fit in the mass factory produced shirts ,trousers or suits .And I always fall back on Gargee Tailors .Shyam ji made me 3 suits in super fast time .They are as always –excellently stitched.He always manages to make me look like what I want to look  .He will prod me to change a few things –“ Sir 2 inch ke coat lapel bahut kum hotein hai .2 1/2  inch  kar leejeeyeh” he said .A firm shake of the head and he backed off .Wonderful man .Understands me well .And a terrific salesman –always manages to sell me one suit or coat more than what I come with in my mind to his shop .!

Airports are so cut off from the reality in India .They (like 5 Star Hotels) are a striking contrast to what exists just as you enter or leave them .Once inside –you get a artificial feel that you are the chosen one .I observed people as they flitted around in the duty free shops and the coffee bars .All –or almost all !!-are well heeled and smelling nice .All of them are with smart phones and ipads and munching Hersheys and their hand baggage is ineveitably Samsonite and  Gucci leather bags .Some of the ladies carry Marc Jacobs ,Fendi ,Mouward ,and Judith Leiber !! And they flout them .And they are Indians .But most of them appear to be first generation rich .Their money shouts –it does not whisper .When they plonk themselves into a sofa seat ,they remove their sandals and display feet that  are cracked and black in the tiny crevices .These are feet that have walked the markets of Sarojini Nagar and Lajpat Nagar .The belong there .Nothing wrong .What is wrong is that they forget inside the airport that they belong there .Nothing wrong to forget that you belong there –its okay to get away from your own reality once in a while .What is wrong is that they start behaving like that with the staff that is not so rich –the trolley boys ,the stall attendants ,the airhostesses and stewards .They are the   “ Do you know who I am”?   kind of people .!!  I wish they ran into me in one of their put on acts –with me .!! I promise to tell them who they are .

Back in Dubai .Waiting for Sangeeta and Pratique .Sangeeta comes back on the 27^th and Pratique comes in on the 28^th .Am  as excited as a school boy going out on his first date .I haven’t forgotten that day .And I wont forget the coming days .! And I will never ever forget the cities of India that I have lived in and left behind  a bit of my body and mind .My greatest insecurity is , and regret will be, if i die in a foreign land .I love my India and its not the feeling of someone who has just returned from home .It is a part of my psyche every minute even when i am there .

One Fed My Mind .The Other Fed My Body -Part 3 (Concluded).

He rang the bell three times .I knew it was him .I opened the door .And ushered him into my drawing room .

He sat down and looked at me .Maybe because of hindsight that he was suffering from a major ailment ,or it could have been the somber and tragic moment that he was confronted with –Jaswant seemed he had  been  robbed  of his robustness. He  did not speak a word for about 2 minutes .And then  wept like a child.He told me that I was a “padhey likheh” (educated ) human being and that he had little to offer in terms of advice  .But before leaving me he held my hand and said “  Sabar rakhoh .(be courageous), inaa da koi dharma nahi  haih .Ea saraih goondeh hunh .Wahe Guru inaa nu  kadeeh maaf nahi karrooga” (they have no values .They are all hoodlums . God will never forgive them) .

That’s the last I saw of Jaswant ,as he peddled away .To the unknown world  .I was never to hear the ring of his cycle again  .

As a family we tried to  fight at the gruesome loss of someone very dear to us .And then  I  got busy with Sangeetas pregnancy leading to the  birth of  Pratique .I was also  offered a Principalship in Bhopal  which I  decided  to take up .Rai was no longer the place it was .It was caught up in politics and there were attacks on staff members by the “kuchha baniyan”  criminal gang .We started patrolling the streets through the night in small groups by turns .Mentally Jaswant went out of my radar .

One day Mr SS Khera (no longer alive ),told me that Jaswant had passed away .Mr Kheras wife used to work in the Punjab National Bank in Rasoi and she had informed him about the same .I could not believe that the man with  those rippling biceps and strong chest was no more. Khera who was also a good friend of Jaswant told me that he had  died blood cancer .

About a week before I left Rai for Bhopal to take over my first assignment as a Principal ,I made my way to Jaswants house in Rasoi .It was the first and last time I entered it .The modest house had a low ceiling.It had only a small window with bar grills on it .The fan hung perilously close to ones head  .I met his wife .There was nothing much I could offer except a few words .I asked her what happened .She told me “Khoonch zahar fahal gayaa si” (the blood had got infected with poison).I asked her whether they had tried to cure it (the poisonous blood).With a resigned look she said she had taken him to All India Institute of Medical Sciences where the doctors told her  it was incurable .And prolonging his life would involve lots of money .And that Jaswant had opposed the move  to spend money for the cure .I asked her what she planned to do next  .She told me she would go back to Chowk Mehta .”If one has to die –one will die anywhere .I wish we had not left Chowk Mehta.He always used to tell me that one day we will go back to where we belong ” she said choking  .I could understand her philosophy .My brother in law  had come all the way from Orrissa  to serve in Punjab ,only  to fall prey to assassins bullets .

I bid her goodbye .As I turned ,I saw his cycle propped up against the wall .There were also the empty crates in which eggs are transported  .I could imagine Jaswant on the cycle with his crates of eggs  .I went to the cycle and rang its bell  bell  3 times . My eyes welled up with tears .His liitle son gave me a smile.He had a smile just like his father.And then uttered those words that I can still hear “Bilkul Papaa jaise ghanti bajatey ho.(you ring the bell just like Dad)”  . Yes if you heard that ringtone thousands of times –you surely will know how to do it .I turned back and looked at his wife and told her to take the cycle with her wherever she went .Leaving it would have been like leaving a big part of him behind in Haryana .And  then I spoke the same words  that Jaswant had said to me

“Sabar Rakooh.” And added “Wahe Guru thawdaa Khyaal rakhoogaa” .(God will look after you all).

The other day I went to the supermarket here in Dubai to buy eggs .I came across a crate of eggs that were small .The same size over which I had protested with Jaswant .Rasoi is across the seas .Dubai is a big city –the international jet set .And it has been nearly 25 years since Jaswant passed away .But I still remember  him  everytime I buy or eat  eggs ,desi ghee and chicken .He fed my body for many years .Maybe one day I will try to search out his family in Chowk Mehta !!