Author: Swati Sani

Riots


I am running. I want to go back but I can not. I can not turn back, there is nothing for me there. I feel a surge of fear taking a grip on me as I look at the street which is devoid of people. Not even a soul here. I have no place to go, no body to turn to. Scared I start to run and hit a big boulder on the middle of the road. I take a hit on my head. Its bleeding, blood running down my temples, I lick my lips and find them salty, I try to spit but my mouth is dry. Water. I must have some water. I keep running and looking around. All the doors are closed. The ones that are open have no one inside.

No choice, I say to my self, run or they will get you as they got others. I have lost the cloth piece I used as a shawl to protect myself, I am sweating and yet a shiver runs down my spine.

Finally I dare to look behind and slow down with relief. I think I can rest a while.

Water, I must have some water.  I look around once again and find a dog licking something from a discarded utensil.  It’s a bowl with some liquid. I shoo away the dog and try to lift the bowl.  My hands are shaking, they start to give up. The bowl seems heavy but I lift it nevertheless and gulp down few precious mouthfuls of water that it had. The dog starts to whimper and I run my hand over its head. The dog doesn’t bite me, wags its tail instead.  At least the dog understands what civilized human beings have forgotten.

The events that happen a few hours back run through my mind again… fire, stones, people shouting slogans, slogans against and slogans for something, some sect, some religion.. I don’t understand any of it. Suddenly a stone hits my window and I go hide beneath the desk. There is no one at home. I am all alone, like I always am at this hour in the night. Father has to go and work the night shift to get money for the bread. I have done my share of working during the day. Tired and hungry I am waiting for him. Suddenly a burning cloth hits my home. The thatched roof starts burning, acrid smoke fills my tiny hut and I have no choice but to get out.

As I step out of my home, I hear people shouting, “there, there he is. Kill him like we killed his father” “No, burn him” “He does not belong here” “Hey you, go back to where you come from” someone says. I try to reply “but I live here, I was born in this hut” They don’t listen. My words don’t reach them at all. The crowd is getting bigger, scarier. I see someone. He is my friend’s father. I know him. A hope fills my heart but then I notice that his eyes are red. “Is he drunk?” I wonder.

I consider telling him that I know his son, we play together. But there is no time for that. I see them coming closer with knives and stones. Some have axes in their hands. I sense they really want to kill me so I run. I am tiny and can go beneath the carts and I can run faster than most of them. I run hard and manage to escape.

It’s been twenty days since this happened. I don’t know what happened to my father. I had escaped and managed to get out of the locality where I lived with my father and others in a small cluster of hutments. That night I had taken shelter beneath a tree and had met a boy. His name was Chiru and he was almost my age.

Chiru had taken me in that night. He was scared and lonely too. We went to his hut and he shared half his food with me. I learnt that he lives alone too. His father, was killed a week before I met him when some people from the other locality attacked theirs. I feel  his pain.  The people who attacked Chiru’s father were from my locality and I feel guilty for the crime they committed.Photo by Black Scratchy Lines

Friend


“Hi!!” he came to her and greeted.

“Hi” she replied back, a little cautiously.

“Are you new here? I have not seen you around” he asked. “Yes”. She gave a mono-syllabic reply. “Want me to show you around” he inquired and without waiting for a reply, picked up her bag of books in his hands and waited. An introvert that she was, she did not expect this and was a bit hesitant and a little taken aback with his brashness, but stood up never-the-less. He, just the opposite very talkative, playful and cheerful. She could not help but answer him back in a couple of syllables. It took a few moments of awkwardness but she found herself enjoying his company and allowed him to lead her everywhere.

They met the next day, and the day after and then it became a habit to seek each other out as soon as they reached the gate of their institution. Since they were also in the same class, they often sat together during the classes. Both of them were five and it was their first year of kindergarten.

Years passed, their friend circle expanded, and he became one of her numerous friends. In standard III, his father moved to another town. Her first friend got lost in the hustle bustle and business of life though she often missed him.

Economics was the subject she wanted to major in and she took admission in one of the best institutes in the capital. She had a lot on her mind, “I must get a room in the hostel, she thought to herself, else dad will never allow me to stay here so far away from home”, she was thinking, when she felt something stir.

“Hey! you new here” she heard a voice call out to her.

“Yes, Eco Honors,” She turned back and replied -tried to place the face. He looked familiar “You… aren’t you…?” she wanted to talk. She needed a friend, and hoped to find one as she had on her first day of the school.

“Hosteler?”He ignored her question

“Yes” She replied back and asked hopefully “are you in Eco too?”

“Report in the auditorium at 7 p.m tonight.

She shouldn’t have been, but she was disappointed. She desperately needed a friend in this huge campus which looked alien. She felt alone.

She gathered her skirt, kept her purse by her side and sat in a corner waiting in the auditorium.

“Hi!” he said, “Can I sit here?”

“Hi” she replied tentatively not sure what to answer.

Without waiting for her reply, he sat next to her. “Aman.” He said. “Eco Honors. And you?”

She told him her name hesitantly.

“Isn’t it funny?, I mean look at us newbies. We look just like kindergarten kids. Completely lost on the first day of college”  He continued talking, she replied to him in monosyllables at first, but soon found herself talking freely. The warmth of new friendship surrounded them as she began her first day in the college.

Some Thumris of Nawab Wajid Ali Shah

The Thumris of Nawab Wajid Ali Shah are known for their simple language and the emotions that they convey. He was the last Nawab of Awadh and while his administrative skills were average, his love for arts was well known. He was a poet, singer composer and a dancer.

As his wealth depleted, his popularity increased. His subjects loved him and rejoiced on the streets of Lucknow, singing the songs that he wrote in simple Awadhi dialect.  The kingdom of Awadh was at it’s  cultural peak during his short regime.

It is said that the Nawab lived lavishly, he was also known to be generous, kind and compassionate towards his people; so when the British  deposed him to exile in Matia-burj near Calcutta the entire town drowned in sorrow. The entire region grieved, cried and bade farewell to the composer king who at the time of exile wrote and composed a Thumri  in Raag Bhairavi which is sung even today “Babul mora naihar chuto hi jaye…”  My favourite rendition of this Thumri  is the one sung by KL Saigal’s for the movie Devdas (1936)

Thumri, which is a semi classical form of Hindustani music, flourished under the regime of Wajid Ali Shah and bandish ki thumri (or Band bol ki thumri) became popular. One of his compositions “Neer Bharan kaise jaaun” has been beautifully arranged and presented in the movie “Khuda ke liye”

http://youtu.be/jWUGAEw0e9M

Another very famous composition is “Tarap tarap sagri rain guzri”. This composition has been used very effectively in Satyajit Ray’s movie “Shatranj ke Khiladi”

Photo by djgold

Maya jaal na toda jaye

IMG_0309About 14 yeas back Tarique posted this on his blog with a story of how this simple poem, Maya jaal na toda jaye was written by his mother. Just two years back, his father had passed away and all the works of Ammi were left for their children to take care. Barring a few that my Father in law read out to me while I transcribed them in Devnagri, everything was written in Urdu Rasmulkhat. Helplessness overcame us as at that time, I as well as Tarique felt very helpless at not knowing the Urdu script. That was also the time when our business was picking up and our son, Aasim was growing up and neither of us had time to spare for learning the Urdu script.

Things changed about a few years back when I found time and resources to transcribe Ammi’s poems and books from Urdu Rasmulkhat to Devanagari. That took care of all the printed and published works but still a large number of notes and hand written poems that I could not part with remained with us. Helplessness was at its peak when Dr. Tejinder Singh Rawal decided to teach Urdu Rasmulkhat to all who loved the language. In a matter of days, I could recognize the characters and read small words, even write a bit in the script that looked alien a few years back. A year of  practice of reading and writing and I can now read and write decent amount of Urdu. I still have miles to go but with I can now type using Urdu Keyboard and have started typing Ammi’s work in Urdu Rasmulkhat.

Here’s the Nazm that Dr. Zarina Sani wrote when her (then) 10-year-old son, Tarique complained that she should write in simple language for the common man.

For those who can not yet read Urdu script, I am also giving the Devanagari transcript of this Nazm.

مایا جال نہ یوڑا جائے
لوبھی من مجھ کو ترسائے

مل جائے تو راگ ہے دنیا
مل نہ سکے تو من للچائے

میرے آنسو ان کا دامن
ریت پے جھرنا سوکھا جائے

شیشے کے محلوں میں ہر دم
کانچ کی چوڑی کھنکی جائے

پیار محبت رشتے ناتے
ثانیؔ  کوئی کام نہ آئے

मायाजाल न तोड़ा जाये
लोभी मन मुझको तरसाये

मिल जाये तो रोग है दुनिया
मिल न सके तो मन ललचाये

मेरे आँसू उनका दामन
रेत पे झरना सूखा जाये

शीशे के महलों में हरदम
काँच की चूड़ी खनकी जाये

प्यार मुहब्बत रिश्ते नाते
‘सानी’ कोई काम न आये

Photo by Steve Corey

Simple joys of life

In our day to day, noisy, hyperactive and high frequency world there is little time left to just sit back and experience the simple joys of life; rejoice in the simple fact that we exist. We so often forget how it is like to take a stroll, with an old pal, on green hills and watch the leaves drenched in rain and flowers being kissed gently by dewdrops.

We get so comfortable in the race of life that we strangle our emotions even before they get a chance to be expressed. We forget to delve into the realms of our dreams and fantasies, stop listening to the music of streams, chirping of birds and forget that there is a song to be heard, a tune to be hummed and a beautiful verse to be read.

We forget how rewarding the company of a trusted old friend can be. The freedom to talk and not be misunderstood or misjudged. The careless laughter and endless banter that once came so effortlessly takes time now.

It takes forty and a few more years. Yes, it takes those many years to realize how we can un-complicate our lives and experience the simple joys.  At least for me it did take those many years get out of a grey world and watch the rainbow go over the hill and dunk in the stream beyond.Photo by Dana C. Voss

Aasim leaves for MUWCI

Aasim with our kitten, Bilau
Aasim with our kitten, Bilau

Packing is done, and Aasim is finally flying out of the nest and he is excited about the new world awaiting him. A world where he will be part of an international community, people from over 60 countries will study, work and do projects together. It’s a dream come true for him, and for us.

About a year and half back, when we learnt about the United World Colleges (UWC), we were not sure if Aasim will be able to meet the challenges that are required to be met to become a student of one of the 14 UWCs. The more research he did, the more the prospect of being a student of a UWC excited him and finally we procured the form from the Indian National Committee in Sept 2013

The form among other things, required him to answer eight questions, and some of them were quite difficult even for an adult to answer. However, when I finally saw his answers I was impressed with the maturity and clarity of his thoughts. I felt he does have a chance.

The form was submitted, and we planned to visit the Mahindra United World College, which was his first choice among the United World Colleges across the world (his other choices were UWC Pearson College, Canada and UWC Adriatic, Italy). The visit to MUWCI made him, and us feel that this is the place where he truly belongs. Not only did he feel comfortable with the place, he met other students (and teachers) who he felt at ease with, and completely at home.

IB is a very tough syllabus and the way it is dealt with at UWCs makes it even tougher. Aasim got through the first screening (application form) and was selected for the second stage; a 24 hour interview camp. This one was going to be tougher, we knew, and it was, but he got through and was selected to be a student at the United World College Mahindra College, MUWCI for short.

The excitement of being selected at one of the best colleges in the world abated and a long wait began. He enjoyed his summer holidays and prepared himself to join the college. Tomorrow is that day for him. At MUWCI, a new life awaits him.

I am very proud of him. We brought him up to be an independent person and a world citizen, and at MUWCI, he will have opportunities that he can use to do things that truly matter.

He is going to fly, and fly high!

Someone… Somewhere


atulIt’s been over a year and I haven’t removed your number from my phone book yet. Somehow your name there is a reassurance to me. No, I don’t expect to hear from you… not anymore, but still your virtual presence allows me to go back and read all the conversations we had, the occasional plans we made and the little problems we discussed. Those problems, insurmountable then, seem so small now, so tiny…

Wonder if there is some place from where you can see what’s happening in this world. While part of me hopes that you can watch us, I also know that you will be worried sick, and frustrated at little things simply because they are not in your control and are not going the way you would want them to be. I’d rather prefer you being in a place where you can sit peacefully with your two dogs and hum the Star Wars OST.

I know you are doing that right now.

व्यथा कथा

hina
हथेली की हिना सूख जायेगी
मगर उसकी छाया
हाथों पर उभर आयेगी
हथेली लाल हो जायेगी

हिना की ठंड़क और स्पर्श की गर्मी
अहसास दिलायेगी उस तारे का
जिसे एक दिन तुमने
मेरी हथेली का फूल कहा था

तुम्हें याद है वो दिन?
जब ऊँची पहाड़ी पर चढ़ते चढ़ते
पाँव फिसला था,
और हौसला टूटा था
तब तुमने उस तारे से तुलना की थी मेरी

कहा था
स्वाति को भी चातक का
इंतज़ार करना पड़ता है
तीन मौसम

मगर चातक,
स्वाति की एक बूंद के लिये
तुम्हें भी तो तीन मौसम
प्यास सहनी पड़ती है।

The perfect fit.

As the clock struck 12, she ran home and left one of her slippers behind. She reached home and slept restless, wondering what fate has in store for her the next day which was also the first day of the new year.

The door bell rang, the next day,  Anastasia opened the door of their dilapidated castle hoping and wishing very hard for the fortunes to change. He came in, demanding to see the women of the house and a glimmer of hope crossed all their faces as they saw the shining glass slipper being placed on the floor. Anastasia tried it, so did others, even the household help.

And then Drizella tried it, and it fit her, for, after all the shoe belonged to her. The shoe which Cinderella stole and wore to Prince Charming’s ball, the shoe that slipped off her foot when she ran because it was a poor fit.

A page from my past

From
dawn to dusk
I wait patiently
for you
your call,
a message from you
perhaps, a letter?

From
dark to light
I try to dream
you beside me
your touch,
soft caress
perhaps, a kiss?

At least
your thoughts
I find always,
always close by
but still I long
for you, and
perhaps your love?

“a page from my past” Original poem dated : 20th February, 1990.