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 !!

One Fed My Mind .The Other Fed My Body -Part 2

25 Kms north of Amritsar is a place called Chowk Mehta .It houses  the Damdami Taksal ,a  seat of Sikh learning and education .Tucked away almost unknown to the world ,it sprang into prominence when one of its heads ,held the country to ransom .He was instrumental in instilling fear in the minds of many of us who by birth were as close to any Sikh in any part of the world .Then, and now, we always made our way to the nearest gurudwara in our vicinity .It was a  bond (between us and the Sikhs ),t hat no one had ever dared to drive a wedge through .And it was crystal clear no one would succeed .But Sant Bhindrawale tried to do the impossible .He was headquartered at Chowk Mehta from where  lists were prepared and  diktats to carry out gruesome killings  were ordered .He had a narrow support base -but a ruthless and committed one  .And those  who did not support his ideas ,were confronted with a choice –leave or be prepared for the repurcurssions .Maybe death ..Jaswant Singh chose to leave Chowk Mehta.

“I have come to teach here .Why have you come ?To sell andaa and chicken on a cycle .It does not make sense to me ” ?I had asked .It was a logical question.

“How can one stay in a place where we are told that Hindus are our enemies . How can one stay in a place when people tell you that a separate country Khalistan is going to be created ? They say  "Sikh ik vakhriqaum hai." (Sikhs are a different race”)  .In our family we have Hindus .And in our family I have relatives in Andhra ,Maharastra and Assam .Sa…la ,Ch…..ya,  sanoo bewakoof  samajde hai “( they think we are fools”) .He was a raw and rustic man .But he was a true secularist and a nationalist .

Rai is a residential school .And having the mess food day in and day out was uphill task –though the food  was top class .But even top class food loses its edge once it becomes repetitive and predictable .By the time I had spent my first year at Rai ,I knew what was going to be served for breakfast on Monday ,lunch on Tuesday or dinner on Saturday !! We always had the option of eating at the world class dhabas at Murthal but one could not do that very often .The distance and the pocket protested sometimes .

Jaswant Singh changed all that .He gave us options .He peddled eggs and chicken and it suited us fine .I always preferred having boiled eggs which were warm ,and cook my own chicken and share it with my other bachelor friends .The task of supplying us fresh eggs and chicken fell on the shoulders of Jaswant .He would announce his arrival by ringing the bell of his cycle three times !!I would open my door and inspect his eggs and chicken .One day I told him that the eggs were too small and so were the chicken .I was at the prime of my life and had taken to playing squash daily .I had fairly good biceps .I flexed my muscles and showed them  to him.

“I need  big eggs and chicken to feed them” I boasted !! Get me big eggs and a good “kooker” (chicken).And I expanded my chest !!

He was quick to retort

“If you eat the eggs  and the chicken I supply you ,you will be like this”, and proceeded to show me his biceps !!And I swear ,they were really big and bulging !!And as a afterthought he said

“You wont get them no matter how many eggs or “kookers” you eat ,because you are a Amul eating man .Desi ghee khaaya karoh(eat pure ghee).” he added with a smile and a hearty laugh !!

“Can you get me desi ghee”, I asked ?

“Of course I can .You just have to tell me a day or two in advance .I will get you desi ghee and looni makkhan (white butter). You need it .”!!

That’s how I started to eat farm fresh eggs,farm fresh dressed chicken ,desi ghee and looni makkhan !!Jaswant  started feeding my body . From  a acquaintance ,he became a friend .I would talk to him in Punjabi  .I asked him once whether he travelled to Punjab often .

“Of course I do .I have some land there .I will return once the madness is over .I don’t  like it much here .I feel homesick” .Punjab at the time was in the grip of terrorism .Terrorists used innocent  human beings like Jaswant as couriers  to pass messages to each other  or hide in their homes .And if the police came to know of such incidents ,then the innocents were targeted .People like Jaswant were caught in the crossfire of the Police and the Terrorists .No one was obeying or playing the game according to rule .Punjab lurched from one gory incident into another .I got married .The Principal of the school changed .And for reasons best known to him ,he stopped the entry of Jaswant into our school campus .I don’t know what the reasons might have been .I could not understand  why he ordered the cutting down of  eucalyptus trees and  targeting  people like Jaswant .Jaswant stopped coming .

In the mayhem of terrorism ,I lost my brother in law who was a senior IAS Officer .Jaswant came to meet me .On his cycle but without his eggs ,desi ghee ,and chicken .I was grieving and trying to cope with the tragedy .I heard the bell of the cycle ring 3 times .I got up and opened the door .........

To be contd and concluded tommorow .

One Fed My Head ,The Other Fed My Body .Part 1

We often forget people who are not on Facebook or Twitter .We often forget people who would never have been on facebook  or twitter  had it been available 30 years back ..The facebook and twitter class is the “new upper caste” in India .And like the upper castes ,at most  times they do not represent the real India .

There were two such people who would not have been either on facebook ,twitter or a smart phone .One of them fed my mind and the other fed my body .One of them was called Ram Sudan who lived in Narela  a small town on the outskirts of Delhi .He  brought me my daily copy of the Times of India when I was teaching at Rai Sports School   nearly 35 years back .

Rai was a village .But  the Motilal Nehru  School of Sports pitchforked it into prominence .It brought in the celebrities –from Indira Gandhi ,Bishen  Bedi ,Kapil Dev ,Kiran Bedi ,Roshan Seth ,Sunil Dutt ,Leela Samson ,Swapan Sundari ,Tanvir Habib –everyone .It had a wonderful infrastructure and a wonderful Principal who himself was a celebrity –Yash Paul Bharadwaj .

But life was slow .We never got our newspapers before 2pm .The reason was simple .The demand for the Times of India in and around was minimal .It came to Narela via a local and then it had to be transported to Rai .But who would have liked to come nearly 20 kms to distribute a newspaper to a young Post Graduate from Delhi University ?Haryana gets  very hot and very  cold in summers and winters .And in the monsoons it gets very wet .If you have to cycle from Narela day in and day out to deliver  a  newspaper  round the year  ,then you had either have to be committed or a superman .Ram Sudan had both these qualities .

Ram Sudan was a thin man and when he started to deliver my daily dose of newspaper ,he was in his early 50s .His mode of transportation was the cycle –Atlas cycle !!He wore a dhoti and cycled slowly .He reminded me of the tortoise in the kindergarden story of the hare and the tortoise .He plodded on –but what was more important –he always managed to reach his destination  .I  once  requested him  to try delivering   the paper before 8 am .I was used to getting my paper at 5 when I was  in Delhi and Chandigarh

“I will give you extra Sudanji.”,I said

“Sir no matter if you give me lakhs ,I wont be able to deliver the paper at 8 .I get it at Narela at 9” .And he would smile .

Those were the days when internet and computers were not even heard of .And being in a village ,the newspaper  was the only source of information .Food for the mind as I once told him

“Sudanji , paper to mere dimaag ke liye khuraq hai( paper is nourishment for my mind ).Aur aap mujhe 2 bajey tak bhooka rakhtey ho( and you keep me hungry till 2pm).”

He looked at me and folded his hands “ Sorry Sir .Kya karun .And I know what hunger is all about” .His family had been displaced from Pakistan and made their way to Sonepat .From there Sudan had struggled but was not able to break the shackles .He had started selling newspapaers –especiaally Hind Kesari and the Hindi Tribune which were in demand in the area he lived .But English newspapers –“Sir margin kum hai” he would say .

Ram Sudan had a tragic look about him .Maybe not tragic –but perhaps a philosophical look about him .He seemed to be far away most of the time –far away from where he sat and talked .

One day on a Sunday he came wet .It had been raining .It was a winter rain ,the one that we get in December in the North .He always wore a thick grey polo neck sweater over his kurta .But on on Sunday he was wet .Normally he would slip the paper under my side door .But on this particular Sunday he knocked .I opened the door .

“Sirji ,chai mileygee?” (Can I get tea ?).Thand  lag rahee hai(I am feeling cold)”.

As  a bachelor at that time ,I was not organized enough even for a cup of tea .

“Come in .I will give you something better “,I said .I gave him a towel to wipe himself  and poured a large peg of Old Monk rum with hot water (from my water geyser).I told him to down it .He was happy .He asked  for another  one .I gave him another .This time I did not have to ask him to down it .He did so himself .He asked for a third one .I refused .I told him ,that it was not yet 3pm and he had to cycle 20 km s home .He left .

After 15 minutes I went to just check on him .Near the gate was a biggish lawn .I saw him lying there .The sun was out .I went to ask him how he was .He told me he was fine and was enjoying the sun and the drink .I still remember his last words to me .

“Sirji ,sone  pe  suhaagay ho gaya” .!!(roughly meaning icing on the cake –the sunshine and the drink).And as a afterthought , he moved away from himself into the lost world of his and whispered “Iswar aap ko bahut lambhi umar dey( may God give you a long life ).

That’s the last I saw of him .The December holidays started ,I went to Dehradun for a break and when I came back ,his son started to deliver the newspapers .He told me that Ram Sudan was not well and was suffering from pneumonia .I wanted to meet him ,but just could not find the time to do so .

After sometime his son also stopped coming to deliver the newspapers .One day I came to know that Ram Sudan had passed away .I went to Narela  not only to pay homage to him but also to pay up for the bill which stood  against my name .I have never felt comfortable with debts .I entered his one room house .His widow sat in a corner  –quiet .The son introduced me to her .She nodded her head .I did not know what to say .I don’t know the social etiquettes and I don’t pour my heart out with people I meet the first time .I looked at the wall where a photo of Ram Sudan was hung .And as in the photograph of every diseased –a garland  of flowers were hung on it .My eyes met his eyes .I thought he smiled at me .Then I lost sight of him .I wiped my tears .I gave some money to his son and told him that it was what I owed to him .After a bit of hesitation ,he accepted .

But financial debt is one thing .Till today when I read the Times of India ,I remember Ram Sudan.

After all ,he  fed my mind for 7 long years .Its a debt I will never be able to repay .So what if he is not on my  Facebook  Friends list .He is in my head  and in my heart .He nourished them as few have .

To Sir Yash Paul Bharadwaj -With Love .

He is the smartest man I have ever met in my life .By smart I mean smart and not good looking .Much of his looks were immersed  under  a beard that reminded me of  Karl Marx and  Fidel Castro .He had large eyes ,was tall and well built and walked like a king –ambling as if he gave two hoots for the world or what  it thought of his ways.He looked like a lion with a magnificent mane -when angry ,his eyes darted from one place to another -ready to pounce of anyone who made a mistake  .Add to it his brilliance as a sportsman and also the fact that he always smelt  nice and dressed so well and you will know who I am writing about - The Phenemonal  Yash Bharadwaj .

YP Bharadwaj - with Imran Khan .

I met him  first as a young prospective candidate for the post of a history teacher at the Motilal Nehru School of Sports at Rai( 35 years ago !!),just 20 miles from Delhi and hence called “Biswan Meel”.It was a place where the legendary CM of Punjab ,Pratap Singh Kairon was shot dead .At Rai ,the Haryana Govt built a school with the best infrastructure of the times and paid the teachers well enough to attract some of the best available in India .Mr Y .P .Bharadwaj was the Principal as  I waited in the staff room to be interviewed .He had stepped in to the rather big boots of Padamshri , Mr Kate  .And gosh –did he not make everyone feel that the shoes were too small for him .

Mr Bharadwaj was a pedigreed  man .(I will keep writing of him as was because I write of him as a man who has retired now ).He had studied at St Stephens College and had represented it in Cricket(in fact nearly played for India ,after having played Ranji for many years ) and Basketball .I am not too sure –he must have represented it in Tennis as well because he was a terrific tennis player and would take the best young studs in our school apart in the  game . Even at the age of 55 !!He had taught at the Mayo College for years  and had become the Vice Principal at The  Punjab Public School at Nabha  before taking over Rai  !!I had the pleasure of playing Cricket and Tennis with him and in particular I remember putting in a long partnership in two  ,staff vs students matches .I was just out of University  and more or less in my prime and Mr Bharadwaj was past 50 years of age . “We will avoid taking the singles or  run too fast. And don’t worry –the runs will come .We will put away the bad balls to the boundary .And you will get many of them” ,he advised .I am forgetting how any runs he scored in the matches –but they were both above 50 runs a piece and mostly in boundaries  .Interspersed with cuts ,and  brilliant drives through the covers –both off the front and back foot .Not only that ,he would open the attack with the new ball and bowl amazing outswingers  luring the young batsmen to edge to vultures like me standing at first slip to gobble up the catch .I still remember all that Sir ,and the icing on the cake were the cricket matches with the British High Commission.

Mr Bharadwaj was a visionary –he was not a micro level man who would have meetings with teachers to monitor the syllabus or whether they had written their teachers diaries , or whether i had taught Akbars Din E Illahi or not  .He looked at the larger picture -the macro level.He looked  to take Rai beyond the confines of the staff rooms ,classrooms , and the playing fields within its campus .He entrusted me with the task of starting a General  Awareness Club and a Debating Society . “I want  you to tell me how we can get the big schools to participate in the activities you plan”. He told Mr Alan  Lewis to produce plays and take them to premier schools to showcase talent that the kids possessed .And then he told Mr Lewis to take the plays abroad –to England .He entered into a exchange programme with schools in England and it still continues .He made sure that no teacher went twice –so that more teachers got exposure to foreign lands .He sent me to Phiilipines with kids  for a Childrens International  Village .He had foreign teachers come and teach English and Geography to first generation learners .I asked him once why he had foreigners teaching in our schools .Were there not enough good Indians to do so ?His reply was

“Kain ,dekho .Do cheez ho sakti hai .Ya toh Angrez Hindi seekh jayegaa ,ya  who Angrezee sikaa degaa”!!( two things can happen –either they will learn Hindi ,or they will teach the kids to speak in English).

I laughed  .It was over a drink in his palatial residence .I dared to probe further .”And suppose they learn Hindi ?.The purpose will be defeated wont it” ?

“No –according to linguists it is very difficult to learn a new language when you are in your 40s .”And that’s exactly what happened .The kids in Rai learnt to speak and write fabulous English .It is no surprise to me that Rai has produced 3 children who have written wonderful novels  ,it has produced wonderful actors and actresses ,it has produced I.A.S Officers ,IITians ,Entrepreuneurs ,teachers and more than 100 Principals .My name was 56^th on the list of Principals from Rai when I visited it last about a decade back .He introduced  horse riding ,fencing  and encouraged the setting up of a solar heating system to keep the swimming pool of our school warm in the biting cold of North India .The inaugural Craft Mela at Surajkund was manned by kids from our school .The children saw English movies every Saturday in a bid to make them improve their English.He would do “Shramdan” with them and would take part in “Preeti Bhoj” serving  food to our support staff for dinners  .In a decade under his leadership ,uncut and unpolished diamonds were transformed  into the most valuable jewels in the country .I give the credit for most of that to Mr Bharadwaj .Having been a leader of schools for two and a half decades myself –I know how brilliant one has to be to do that .

There are many tales .There are many memories .There are many incidents for someone like me from Rai .I gave my best years and my best performances as a teacher at Rai .Sometimes when i look at myself  I feel  it could not have been me who was at Rai .I was in a different zone  .At times I just want to forget Rai because it drowns me in nostalgia and compels me to  compare  with myself then and now  and the school  then and at the  present moment .Sometimes i keep telling myself "Come on .Move on .Forget the past" .And sometimes I do forget it for long periods as I immerse myself in new ventures .

But one man keeps pulling me back .He keeps tugging at the corners of  a huge memory And forces me to always look back over my  shoulders .Someone who will never let me forget Rai and every moment I lived there .Sir Yash Paul Bharadwaj .

Get well soon Sir .Its time to have drink once again with you .I am thirsty .

Why These Two Should Get The Bharat Ratna

We have a  bad habit of bestowing honours posthumously .Which is always the worse of the two options .And we also have the bad habbit of   NOT  bestowing honours to people who are not in the good books of the government .So if you are not a crony of the Congress or the BJP ,the chances are that you will not get either a Padamshri or  Bharat Ratna when they are in power  .And that is why the Bharat Ratna has eluded some of Indias greatest sons/daughters if one political party thought you were close to another  .I am going to write of two such human beings who I think have contributed to the concept of India in more ways than some others  who got it .

The first is Atal Bihari Vajpayee .He is a outstanding candidate for the honour and the quicker he is bestowed  the Bharat Ratna the better .He is in frail health and from reports that leak out from his residence ,he cant speak ,or recognize .In his prime there were few who could match him for his skills at public speaking or escape his quick wit .And he has been around for a long  long time .Infact ,he narrates how as a backbencher he took on the formidable Nehru in one of the debates in Parlaiment  in the fifties .He attacked him in his indominatable style .And then goes on to laud the great man by saying that when he met him in a reception in a hotel the same day ,Nehru said “You spoke very well today .Acchaaa bolte ho “!!That I think was  understatement .I had the privilege of listen to him at at least 2 election rallies –one in Karol Bagh and the other at the Ramlila Maidan in Delhi .There was pin drop silence –and the crowd was in laks !!Such is and was the power of the man.And he used it to good effect to integrate India .Besides ,he was a fantastic team man and managed a coalition of such diverse thinking political strands.And he had a vision –he realized that we had to be friendly with Pakistan to move ahead .He was a poet and had a sense of humuor –the only Indian PM to have so .Vinod Mehta recalls that he looked quite gloomy once when he called on him ,which  was uncharacteristic of the man .When asked why he was  serious ,Vajpayee said “ Kyonki aapkey baad Jayalalitha aaney wali haih” .And then burst out laughing. This most loved Indian must be given the Bharat Ratna .Immediately.

The second would be the great Dilip Kumar .Amitabh Bacchan (himself a front runner for the coveted Bharat Ratna ),talks of how the the history of the film industry can be divided into two parts –before Dilip Saab and after Dilip Saab! In a India coming to grips with the notion of a new divided country post 1947 ,here was a man who united India through the medium of the films .I have talked to people of my generation from diverse geographical area of our country ,some of them not even understanding Hindi /Urdu  and they b were all proud Indians because Dilip Kumar became the symbol of it. His movies unified intellectually and mentally just like the other Bharat Ratnas –Lata Mangeshkar and Sacchin Tendulkar. Dubbed a tragedy king or a comedian  this is what he said “Given my temperament, when I have either been dubbed a tragedian or a comedian, I have always felt that they are talking about someone else. Because I think I’m a bit of everything, mujh mein sab ka thoda thoda sa hai."  Yes he was and is the complete man  .He has been a secular Indian  and has not put a foot wrong .Known to be magnanimous ,down to earth and knowledgeable –its time he was rewarded our countrys highest honour .It would also give the BJP the much needed image addition that it cares for the minorities .

Jinnah -The Game Changer .Part 2.

 Dina was born to them .She was their only child .Years later like her mother , she  was to run  into problems with her dad (Jinnah ),when she wanted to marry Neville Wadia ,a Parsi (like her mother).Jinnah told her that there were millions of Muslims she could marry ,and that it was absurd for her to choose to marry a  Parsi .When she retorted that he had done the same when he married Ruth ,his cold emotionless answer was “She became a Muslim”. Period .No negotiation .No relenting .From either side .He disowned his daughter when she married Neville .!!Incidentally she is the grandmother of Ness Wadia who owns Punjab Kings X1 who is Nusli Wadia and Maureen Wadias son .

Back to Jinnah and Ruth . Despite Jinnah's unfaltering dedication and love for Ruttie, the marriage was not a bed of roses. Perhaps his professional responsibilities and political commitments did not afford him enough time to spend with his wife .Slowly but surely  the dream marriage started to  turn  sour .He became abnormally obsessed with politics and by 1922 Ruth found herself, lonely enough to pack her  bags and take  her daughter to London. But she still  loved the man for whom she had forsaken the world .She wrote  to her friend Kanji, thanking him for the bouquet of roses he had sent as a bon voyage gift  and by ending thus “

“And just one thing more, go and see Jinnah and tell me how he is, he has a habit of overworking himself and now that I am not there to tease and bother him he will be worse than ever.”.

Upon her return to India, Ruttie tried to see more of her husband but he was too busy  in  politics  , and sadly   had little time to devote to her.He had started to get obsessed with power .

By 1927, Ruttie and Jinnah had virtually separated, and  his  move   to Delhi was just the final blow to a relationship that was already on oxygen .It was gasping for breath .

Ruttie's health deteriorated rapidly in the years after  1927.It is said that she died of cancer because of  the passive smoking of her husband .The tragedy  was that  she was still so young –not even 28 years old . But she kept her interest in her pets and her close friends .She shifted into the Taj Hotel –frail and weak .Amongst the last things she requested of her friend Kanji was that he look after her cats .She died on 20^th FEB 1929 .She was only 28 years old !!! It was as if love had been brutally murdered .

Jinnah is believed to be a very private person and he hardly showed emotions but he is known to have cried twice in public. One of the occasions was the funeral of his beloved wife Ruttie in 1929 and the other one in August 1947, when he visited her grave one last time before leaving for Pakistan.Did he forget her ?The answer appears to be NO .According to his chauffeur

You know servants in household come to know everything that is going around them. Sometimes more than twelve years after Begum Jinnah's (Mrs. Jinnah) death, the boss would order at dead of night a huge ancient wooden chest to be opened, in which were stored clothes of his dead wife and his married daughter. He would intently look into those clothes, as they were taken out of the  box and were spread on the carpets. He would gaze at them for long with eloquent silence. Then his eyes turn moist.”

Jinnah left India in August 1947, never to return again. He had  pursued   two things which every man seeks and if lucky gets both  .One –Love . He lost out on it because he lost Ruth .But he won  what he gave up to as tradeoff –Power .With his  zeal ,passion , and doggedness he was able to divide India into 2 parts .He became the QUAID  E AZAM of the newly created state of Pakistan .How did  it all happen ?

Thats a part of my next blog on Jinnah .Part 3.

Jinnah -The Game Changer .Part 1.

You cant understand the politics of the subcontinent  without knowing about Mohd Ali Jinnah .I am quite surprised as to how little one knows about the people who shaped the history of India in the 20^th Century .Of course I don’t expect people to understand the complexities of the events ,but one should know the facts .Facts are sacred .One cant  and should not ignore them to get a larger picture.

Thank God ,a fair amount of youngsters know a bit about Gandhiji .I wonder however whether they knew he was born in Porbander and for what reasons he led the Dandi March .Or why the Sabarmati Ashmram is such a important place to visit for anyone who goes to Ahmedabad .It is sad that when I asked a class whether they had heard about Maddame Tassuad –quite a few hands went up .And when I asked about whether they had heard of Sabarmati –fewer went up .And when I asked about Naukhalli –none went up .Not only was it sad –it was quite frightening that we are producing children who are apparently brilliant ,but lack the basic knowledge of people and places that shaped our present .How can one understand the mess of Kashmir by not knowing much about Hari Singh ,or Sheikh Abdullah ?Or why Article 370 was introduced ?And we will continue to  indulge in passionate discussions on Facebook  about why it should be abolished or why not .!!

The main point about writing this blog is to familiarize the reader  about Jinnah .Here  are some  facts .Jinnahs grandfather was Hindu .His name was  Poonja Gokuldas Meghji, He was a Hindu from Paneli village in Gondal state in Kathiawar who embraced Islam.Hence , Jinnah had a Hindu ancestary .His father was Jinnahbhai  Poonja   who was a prosperous Gujarati merchant. He moved to Karachi from Kathiawar, because of his business  .He and his wife had 7 children.One of them was Mohd Ali Jinnah .

Jinnah was to become  a top class lawyer .One of his colleagues wrote “He was what God made him, a great pleader. He had a sixth sense: he could see around corners. That is where his talents lay ... he was a very clear thinker ...He drove his points home—points chosen with exquisite selection—slow delivery, word by word” . 

He was married off in 1892 when he was 16 while  still in school in Karachi. He travelled to Kutch to marry a bride called Emibai. Emibai fell victim to an outbreak of cholera and died in 1893.He refused to remarry even though his father insisted .As On so many  other occasions he displayed that one trait –stubborness .

However all that seemed to melt when he came into contact with Ruth . One of his numerous  clients  was Sir  Dinshaw  Petit  a millionaire  mill owner .Jinnah fell in love with Dinshaws daughter Ruth Petit or Ruttie as she was called .The love affair started when Dinshaw invited Jinnah to his summer home in Darjeeling to get away from the oppressive heat of Bombay ..Ruttie was amongst  the prettist women in Bombay  .She was reffered to as “Flower of Bombay”. When Jinnah asked Dinshaw for Ruths hand in marriage ,he refused  since she was a Parsi .Ruttie braved isolation for the sake of the man she loved and left her family to marry Jinnah in Bombay ...Only a handful of people were present .Ruth converted to Islam and  was named Maryam .They celebrated their honeymoon at Maidens Hotel in Delhi .It is a hotel  near the Delhi University -a hotel  I have frequently   more than any other hotel  in Delhi  .Everytime I went to the Hotel ,I was reminded of Jinnah  and Ruttie .

They were a head spinning couple .Jinnah was always impeccably dressed . He came to own over 200 suits, which he wore with heavily starched shirts with detachable collars, and as a barrister took pride in never wearing the same silk tie twice. Even when he was dying, he insisted on being formally dressed, "I will not travel in my pyjamas"  ,he had protested .He had one addiction –smoking .He worked with a tin of Craven "A" cigarettes at his desk, of which he  smoked 50 or more a day for the nearly  35 years, of his life .He also smoked a  box of Cuban cigars.But he had style . Ruttie matched him   with  long hair  decked in fresh flowers.She apparently had a flawless complexion and  wore vibrant silk and headbands lavish with diamonds, rubies and emeralds.They were the richest in the Bombay circuit .She called him “J” .They were madly in love !!

To be Continued