चिंपी स्‍कूल में

मई का महीना था। नंदनवन गर्मी से झुलस रहा था। थोड़ी राहत पाने की गरज से चिंपी बंदर आम के पेड़ पर जा बैठा। अभी कुछ ही मिनट बीते थे कि उसकी आँख लग गई। तभी पेड़ के नीचे से फन वैली प्‍ले स्‍कूल की बस गुज़री। चिंपी धप्‍प से बस की छत पर गिर पड़ा। नींद इतनी गहरी थी कि उसे अपने गिरने तक का पता नहीं चला।

बस शहर से बाहर बने शोरूम से नई-नई तैयार होकर निकली थी और नंदनवन के रास्‍ते शहर जा रही था। उसे बच्‍चों को स्‍कूल पहुंचाना था। स्‍वरा सोसाइटी के बाहर लगे बेंच पर अपने पापा के साथ बैठी बस का इंतज़ार कर रही थी। जैसे ही नई बस ने आकर हॉर्न बजाया, उसके पापा उसे गोद में लेकर बस में बैठाने चल दिए। स्‍वरा को अपनी नई रंग-बिरंगी बस बड़ी पसंद आई। इस पर तो एक-दूसरे का हाथ थामे स्‍कूल जाते छोटे-छोटे बच्‍चों का कितना सुंदर चित्र भी बना था। पहले नंबर पर बना गोल-मटोल लड़का तो बिल्‍कुल उसके साथ पढ़ने वाले पूरब जैसा दिखता था। उसे हँसी आ गई। बस रवाना हुई तो उसने पापा को हाथ हिलाकर बाय बोला। कुछ ही देर में सारे बच्‍चे फन वैली पहुंच गए और बच्‍चों के साथ ही स्‍कूल पहुंच गया, बस की छत पर खर्राटे भरता चिंपी बंदर।   

जब चिंपी की आँख खुली तो स्‍कूल में योगा और म्‍यूज़ि‍क क्‍लास के बाद लंच ब्रेक होने वाला था। पहले तो चिंपी खुद को नई जगह पाकर घबरा गया। फिर उसके पेट में चूहे कूदने लगे। वो चुपचाप बस से उतरकर कुछ खाने को खोजने लगा पर यह कोई जंगल तो था नहीं, जो कहीं भी किसी फल का पेड़ मिल जाता। छिपता-छिपाता थोड़ा आगे बढ़ा तो खाने की ज़ोरदार खुशबू उसके नथूनों में भर गई। यह बच्‍चों का डाइनिंग हॉल था। शांति आंटी बच्‍चों के लिए गरमागरम पूड़ि‍यां तलकर एक बड़े बर्तन में रखती जा रही थीं और सोनिया मैडम बच्‍चों की प्‍लेट में खाना लगा रही थीं।

चिंपी ने चारों तरफ़ देखा और पूड़ी उठाने के इरादे से कमरे की खिड़की से हाथ अंदर डाला पर ये क्‍या? स्‍वरा ने चिंपी का हाथ पकड़ लिया और चिल्‍लाई, ‘‘मैम! मैम! देखो कौन हमारा खाना चुरा रहा है?’’ चिंपी की तो जैसे सिट्टी-पिट्टी ही गुम हो गई। सोनिया मैम भागी-भागी आईं और चिंपी को डांटते हुए पूछा कि वो स्‍कूल में क्‍या कर रहा है? चिंपी ने डरते-डरते सोनिया मैम को सारी बात बताई और बोला, ‘‘मुझे माफ़ कर दो मैम। बहुत ज़ोर से भूख लगी थी इसलिए खाना चुरा रहा था।’’

सोनिया मैम बच्‍चों को बहुत प्‍यार करती थीं। फिर चिंपी भी तो बच्‍चा ही था। उन्‍होंने शांति आंटी से चिंपी के लिए खाना लगाने को कहा। चिंपी ने भरपेट खाना खाया। तब सोनिया मैम ने उसे और सब बच्‍चों को समझाया कि चोरी करना बुरी बात होती है। अगर उसे खाना चाहिए था तो वो उनसे मांग सकता था। चिंपी ने मैम से माफी मांगी और आगे से कभी चोरी न करने का वायदा किया। सोनिया मैम ने चिंपी को प्‍यार किया और नई बस के ड्राइवर अंकल को कहा कि वे चिंपी को फिर से नंदनवन छोड़ आएं। चिंपी ने सोनिया मैम और सभी बच्‍चों को पिकनिक पर नंदनवन आने का न्‍यौता दिया और कूदकर बस की छत पर चढ़ गया।        

नाम में क्‍या रखा है

अपने नाम से मेरा असल वास्‍ता स्‍कूल में दाखिला लेने के बाद ही पड़ा वरना तो उसका इस्‍तेमाल मुझे पुकारने के लिए घर के लोग ही ज़्यादा किया करते थे। उस पर भी, हर हिन्‍दुस्‍तानी बच्‍चे की तरह, मेरे भी लाड़-प्‍यार में पगे अनेकों नाम थे। लेकिन अब घर की चहारदीवारी से बाहर मेरा औपचारिक नाम ही मेरी पहचान बनने जा रहा था।

मेरी क्‍लास में लड़कियों के नाम कुछ यूं थे: नेहा, शिखा, दीपिका वगैरह…वगैरह। वर्णों के लिहाज़ से व्‍यवस्थित और अर्थ के लिहाज़ से सार्थक लगने वाले इन नामों के बीच मुझे अपना नाम ‘मीतू’ कुछ अटपटा-सा लगता था क्‍योंकि नए शि‍क्षक-शिक्षिकाएं और सहपाठी अक्‍सर मुझे ‘नीतू’ पुकारने लगते थे। छुटपन में मैं इसे उनका कर्णदोष मानती रही पर कुछ बड़ी हुई तो लगने लगा कि हो-न-हो यह मेरे ही नाम का ध्‍वनिदोष है, अन्‍यथा इतने लोग भला सुनने में एक-सी गलती कैसे करते?  

मेरा नाम अजीब ही नहीं, शायद अधूरा भी है, इसका अहसास मुझे तब हुआ जब कुछ शिक्षिकाएं मेरा नाम जानने के बावजूद मुझे ‘मीता’ बुलाने लगीं। गनीमत यह रही कि मेरा नाम छोटा था, इसलिए लोगों को पुकारने में ज़्यादा समस्‍या नहीं आती थी और एक-आध बार ‘नीतू’ या ‘मीता’ पुकारने के बाद वे मुझे ‘मीतू’ के रूप में मान्‍यता दे देते थे। असल समस्‍या मेरे कुछ बड़े हो जाने के बाद तब आई जब एक दिन मैं एक बुद्धिजीवी से टकरा गई और उन्‍होंने मेरे नाम का अर्थ पूछ डाला। अपनी सीमित बुद्धि से मैंने इसे ‘मीत’ अर्थात् ‘प्रेमी’ से जोड़कर उनकी तो शायद तसल्‍ली कर दी पर अब मैं अपने नाम को लेकर और भी ज़्यादा बेचैन हो गई। 

इधर, भाषाओं में दिलचस्‍पी बढ़नी शुरू हो गई थी। हिंदी से लेकर संस्‍कृत और संस्‍कृत से लेकर अंग्रेज़ी तक मेरे पसंदीदा विषय बनते जा रहे थे। कोई भी शब्‍द सुनती तो सबसे पहले दिमाग में उसका संधि-विच्‍छेद आता या फिर मैं उसकी व्‍युत्‍पत्ति को समझने की कोशिश में लग जाती। कोई भी नाम कान में पड़ता तो मन में सबसे पहला विचार उसकी सार्थकता-निरर्थकता का आता। और तब मैंने जाना कि हिंदीभाषी समाज में ऐसे अनेकों नाम बिखरे पड़े हैं जो पुकारे जाने पर अपनी अलग ही छटा बिखेरते हैं। जैसे, ‘मीनाक्षी’ नाम सुनकर मछली जैसे आकार की सुंदर आंखों वाली लड़की की छवि मन में उभरती है तो ‘तन्‍वी’ नाम सुनते ही एक सुडौल कन्‍या का अक्‍स मन में उतर जाता है। जहां ‘विक्रम’ सुनकर मन बरबस ही किसी पराक्रमी व्‍यक्ति की कल्‍पना करने लगता है, वहीं ‘प्रखर’ नाम से ही किसी ओजस्‍वी-मेधावी व्‍यक्ति का ध्‍यान हो आता है। मैंने अनुभव किया कि शब्‍द भी चित्र बनाते हैं। थोड़ा-बहुत पढ़ना शुरू करने पर यह भी जाना कि किस प्रकार साहित्‍य में पात्रों के नाम उनके चरित्र के अनुरूप रखे जाते हैं। फिर चाहे वो देवकीनंदन खत्री के तिलस्‍मी उपन्‍यास ‘चंद्रकांता’ की असीम सुंदरी ‘चंद्रकांता’ हो या घिसट-घिसट कर संसार का प्रथम अनुभव प्राप्‍त करने वाला महादेवी वर्मा का ‘घीसा’। इस तरह से नाम की संवेदनशीलता मेरे मन में गहरे समाती गई।

मैंने ठान लिया था कि जो भी हो, अपना नाम बदलकर ही रहूंगी। मैंने मन-ही-मन अनेक सुंदर और सार्थक नामों की सूची बना डाली थी। अब बस उनमें से कोई एक चुनकर पिताजी को बताना था और रिकॉर्ड्स में अपना नाम बदलवाना था। आखिरकार, मैंने एक अदद साहित्यिक लगने वाले नाम का चुनाव किया और पिताजी के सामने अपना प्रस्‍ताव रख दिया। लेकिन मेरी अपेक्षा के बिल्‍कुल उलट उन्‍होंने इसके लिए साफ़ इनकार कर दिया। उनका तर्क था कि यह सब इतना आसान काम नहीं, इसकी अपनी कानूनी पेचीदगियां हैं। उन्‍होंने मुझे बताया कि कैसे मेरे जन्‍म से पहले ही उन्‍होंने मेरा नाम तय कर लिया था। सोच लिया था कि अगर लड़की हुई तो उसका नाम वे अपनी पहली बेटी यानी मेरी अग्रजा ‘ऋतु’ से मिलता-जुलता रखेंगे। मेरी हर दलील खाली गई। जब रो-बिसूरकर भी कुछ नहीं हुआ तो मैंने नाम बदलने की ज़ि‍द छोड़ दी। लेकिन अखबारों में दिखने वाले विज्ञापन ‘मैं फलां फलां एतद्द्वारा यह घोषणा करती हूं कि शादी के बाद मुझे फलां फलां नाम से जाना और पुकारा जाए’ अब भी मेरी आखिरी आस बने हुए थे।

आखिर ईश्‍वर ने मेरी सुन ली। मेरी शादी एक ऐसे परिवार में तय हुई जहां शादी के बाद वधू का नाम बदले जाने की परंपरा थी। लेकिन शादी की दहलीज़ पर खड़ी लड़की (कुछ हद तक शायद लड़का भी) ही बता सकती है कि जीवन के इस नए चरण को लेकर उसका मन कितनी ही आशाओं, आकांक्षाओं और आशंकाओं से घिरा रहता है। इस सबके बीच नाम का सवाल बहुत पीछे छूट ही गया था कि एक दिन पता चला कि ससुराल पक्ष में मेरे नए नाम के लिए विकल्‍पों पर विचार चल रहा है। मुझसे भी मेरी राय और पसंद पूछी गई।

मैंने हर नाम विकल्‍प से खुद को जोड़कर देखा लेकिन हर बार एक अजनबीपन का एहसास हुआ। अचानक ही लगने लगा कि कोई मेरी पहचान में सेंधमारी कर रहा है। जैसे, मैं अपनी पहचान त्‍यागकर किसी और की पहचान उधार ले रही हूं। ‘मीतू’ नाम भले ही मुझे कम पसंद हो लेकिन यह मेरा अपना था जिसने जन्‍म से लेकर आज तक मुझे मेरे अस्तित्‍व का एहसास करवाया था। मुझे अब तक मिले प्रशस्ति-पत्र, ढेरों लेख जिन पर मेरा नाम अंकित था, अचानक ही मेरी आंखों के आगे तैर गए। मैंने कल्‍पना करने लगी कि अगर मेरे नए नाते-रिश्‍तेदार मुझे किसी और नाम से पुकारेंगे तो क्‍या मैं उनके प्रेम और स्‍नेह में वही ऊष्‍मा महसूस कर पाऊंगी जो मैं आज तक अपने मायके में करती आई हूं और जिसे मैं ससुराल धरोहर के रूप में ले जाना चाहती हूं। मेरा नाम मेरे माता-पिता के प्‍यार की वो अनमोल सौगात थी जो उन्‍होंने मुझे जन्‍म के साथ ही दी थी और उनके दिए हर भौतिक उपहार से बढ़कर आजीवन मेरे साथ रहने वाली थी। अचानक ही मैंने महसूस किया कि अपना अजीब-अधूरा नाम मुझे बहुत प्‍यारा था।

शुक्र है मुझे अपना नाम बनाए या बचाए रखने के लिए कोई ज़द्दोज़हद नहीं करनी पड़ी। मैं खुद को खुशकिस्‍मत ही मानूंगी कि मेरे भावी परिवार ने मेरे निर्णय का पूरा सम्‍मान किया और मेरी खुशी को प्राथमि‍कता देते हुए यही कहा कि नाम में क्‍या रखा है? हालांकि, मैं बहुत अच्‍छी तरह समझ चुकी थी कि ‘नाम में क्‍या रखा है?’

Goodness begets goodness

Soul Curry invites you to share your real life soul-stirring experiences. If you have any such story to share, do send it to us at soulcurry@timesinternet.in and we will publish it for you!

TNN | Apr 1, 2017, 10.00 AM IST

Flipping through a book of quotations a few days ago, I stumbled upon a quote of Marcus Aurelius, "Do not act as if you were going to live ten thousand years. Death hangs over you. While you live, while it is in your power, be good." I wondered how a common statement can touch somebody's life so personally, as this quotation took me to a trip down memory lane with my grandfather's face and deeds floating before my eyes.

My grandpa worked as a manager at a film theatre in Jaipur and those were the days when cinema was one of the most popular means of recreation for the masses as well as the classes so his profession would give him ample opportunity to meet hotshots from all walks of life. It also included silver screen celebrities who kept flocking to Jaipur, a city that fascinates the tourists from world over, for excursion. I am not able to abstain from mentioning that my grandpa looked so dashing that once a film actress had offered him protagonist role in her film and also promised to cast him as hero in all the films she would sign in future. However, he had refused the proposal as working in film industry was against our conventional family values and more so as he was a family person who could not stay away from his family. The sight of his children playing around was the ultimate delight for his heart; an elixir of life.

However, more than his easy on the eyes outer appearance, he was known for his tender-heartedness. He was a kind hearted man who would often go beyond his means in helping others. He believed that God resides in human beings so they must be respected and taken care of with all the resources one has. He was a great philanthropist and saw living beings as different manifestations of the Almighty and loved them with heart.

He would say that each person has inside some basic decency and goodness. If he listens to it and acts on it, he is giving a great deal of what it is the world needs most. It is not complicated but it takes courage. It takes courage for a person to listen to his own goodness and act on it. He kept reiterating that goodness is the only investment that never fails.

And he proved it.

It was a chilly December morning. My grandparents were all set to go for an outstation trip to attend a family function. It was when they were waiting for their train at the platform that a beggar came to them and asked for some money to have a cup of tea in order to get some respite from biting cold. In tune with his kind nature, my grandpa gave him not only some money but also a woolen cap from his carry bag.

As the train chugged along, he complained of some uneasiness and expressed his wish of taking a nap to my grandmother. After a while my grandmother tried to awaken him for breakfast but was taken aghast to see no movement in him. It, in turn, had awakened her to the harrowing fact that my grandfather had bid adieu for his final journey. He had suffered a life claiming silent heart attack. Not to say this blood curdling experience numbed her. Somehow, she mustered courage and stepped out of the compartment only to see the same beggar, my grandfather had helped, standing at the compartment gate. As the drowning man clutches the straw, she apprised him of the situation.

Completely shocked, he immediately rushed inside the compartment to take stock of the situation and then, to my grandmother's dismay, confirmed her doubts. He consoled her like a family member and told her not to reveal the matter to anybody or there may be some legal tangle. As soon as the train stopped at the next station, he called a friend and arranged to get my grandpa down from the train pretending as if he was not well and sleeping. He also arranged for a taxi for their return journey and accompanied my grandma back home. Rest is so obvious.

No doubt, that person was an angel for us who came to my grandmother's rescue when she found herself in the tightest spot of her life. I always co-relate it with my grandfather's kindness that he showed to all and sundry. It was perhaps destined that he will take his final farewell from us that way only, but all that happened reaffirmed my faith in the fact that it was my grandpa's investment in goodness that my grandmother found a savior on that fateful day. Now, I more firmly believe that goodness is about character and that more than anything else, goodness is about how we treat fellow living beings.

- (By Meetu Mathur Badhwar)

शायद तितलियों के पीछे भाग रही है....

चाँद-सा मुखड़ा, बिखरे बाल

दिलकश सूरत लगती कमाल

दिनभर मचाए खूब धमाल

पर सोते हुए लगती भोलेपन की मिसाल

एक बार जो हो जाए शुरू

तो फिर चुप कहां होती है

चट-पट चट-पट बातें करती

बड़ी मुश्किल से सोती है

मुंदी हुई पलकों के भीतर भी

भाग रहे कंचे इधर-उधर

लगता है कोई सपना देख रही है

शायद तितलियों के पीछे भाग रही है

बीच-बीच में खोलकर आंखें

निंदिया के साथ खेल रही आंख-मिचौली

या फिर मार रही गपशप गिलहरियों से

उसकी नई-नई हमजोली  

कमल की ताज़ी पंखुडी जैसे होंठों पर

आती-जाती ये मीठी मुसकान  

बता रही है कोयल सुना रही है

अभी तुझे कोई मधुर तान

नींदों में तेरा करवट लेते हुए कुनमुनाना

मानो वन मयूरों के साथ बेवजह ही थिरक जाना

फिर अचानक मुझसे यूं लिपट जाना

जैसे स्‍कूल में माँ की याद आ जाना 

नींदों में कभी-कभी ऐसे चहचहाना

ज्‍यूं गौरेयों के साथ सुर सजाना

माथे पर तेरे पसीने की बूंदें जो चुहचुहा जाएं

सैंकड़ों जुगनू इकट्ठे झिलमिला जाएं  

कान में मोती के दो बूंदे यूं डोल रहे

जैसे चांद और सूरज नभ में झूला झूल रहे

काले-काले बालों के बीच ये मांग तेरी उजली

ज्‍यूं रात की पगडण्डी पर तारों की बारात निकली

चेहरे पर ओढ़े आलस की चादर

बड़ी प्‍यारी लगती है सोती हुई यूं बेफिकर

रहे तू हमेशा सलामत और तेरी ये मस्‍ती भरी नींद भी

इससे ज्‍यादा रब से क्‍या मांग सकती हूं मैं कभी

माना समय पर नहीं सोने के लिए तू डांट मुझसे खाती है

कभी-कभी तो इस बात पर मुझसे रूठ भी जाती है

पर नींदों में जब मेरी छाती पर चढ़ आती है

मेरी ममता खुद पर इतराने का मौका पाती है

When I was first sent to the jail

Soul Curry invites you to share your real life soul-stirring experiences. If you have any such story to share, do send it to us at soulcurry@timesinternet.in and we will publish it for you!

TNN | Jun 20, 2016, 06.03 PM IST

When I was first sent to the jail (Anna Martin/Getty Images)

I was only twenty one, when I was first sent to the jail! It was my editor, who had asked me to cover a cultural event being organized there for and by the inmates. I was strangely excited at the very idea of visiting a prison, otherwise a prohibited place for a common girl like me, but soon developed cold feet when some of my seniors told me that it was one of the eeriest places one could ever visit. Suddenly, the scenes of the Jodie Foster movie, 'The Silence of The Lambs' started floating before my eyes, wherein she goes to interview an imprisoned ex-psychiatrist and cannibalistic serial killer and inmates scare her with their bizarre behavior. However, I could not cherry pick the assignments so took up the job, though willy-nilly.

It was the city Central Jail, which housed male and female prisoners in clearly demarcated premises. I felt a little relieved to know that the event was scheduled in female inmates' building. Driving towards the place, I was wondering how female convicts would be like; will they look and behave like the commoners or be different from rest of the female population? I was completely clueless, but the very sight of khaki clad and gun wielding police personnel deployed at the towering gates of the prison assured me that it was going to be an altogether different experience.

I got a warm welcome from Deputy Superintendent (Prisons) who, after briefing me about the event, ushered me to the big door that separated the cells of the convicts from her office. I was not allowed to go across until one of my hands was marked with a 'visitor' stamp. On reaching the event hall, I somehow felt as if I was there to attend an all-women family function, though with a dress code as all the women were clad in white cotton saris. The program was about to start, so flurry of activity could be easily experienced. The inmates were busy doing different jobs in such a zealous and harmonious manner that quite perfectly matched with the last minute preparations undertaken by the women folk of a house before a family function. They were working in clutches. One group was giving finishing touches to a magnificent rangoli they had made with chalk and sand, while the other was arranging chairs on the dais and decorating it with flowers. Some elderly women were in command, while the younger ones were carrying out tasks given to them with all enthusiasm and remarkable agility.

I must admit that I got so engrossed in witnessing all this that for a moment, I forgot that I was standing in a jail, a place I was dreading to visit only a short while ago. The program went on very well with all the performers giving brilliant performances. I was astonished to see how, without proper training, they could dance and sing so well. I wished they could participate in some talent hunt programs, showcase their talent, and get the recognition they deserved, but now they had no option but to surrender to their fait accompli and pass their days behind the bars.

On the sidelines of the event, I tried to peep into the lives of the convicts. They had reached jail for different 'sins' and belonged to different backgrounds, but one thing that they shared in common was the longing to meet their near and dear ones, which reflected in their eyes very apparently. They were put in prison allegedly for the crimes like stealing, duping, killing etc. Some of the women told me that they had been victims of somebody's propaganda and were innocent, while many of them confessed to their crimes, narrating the situations that propelled them to commit the sin which, nevertheless, could not be undone now.

I felt worst about the women, who were abandoned by their own people. One young convict told me that her jobless husband had cajoled her into stealing her sister-in-law's (bhabhi's) jewellery, which would guarantee good future of their children, but had isolated her when she got caught red handed committing the theft. Her heart wept to meet her children, but they were never allowed to visit the jail. And then, I witnessed one more bitter truth of the prison life, when I saw some women with their toddlers staying with them in prison. The children were allowed to stay with their mothers, as they were too young to live without their mothers. I was wondering how these children were bereft of a normal life and blissful childhood for the mistakes they had never committed.

I am not sure whether these women inmates were telling the truth or merely cooking up the stories to hide their crimes, but somehow I wanted to take them at their face value. Driving back home, I was carrying along a big lesson of life that a person is a product of his/her circumstances so we should avoid being judgmental about others. I was just praying for their better future, as I had realized that they were not very different from me and my friends, it was the circumstances that were different and making them live a blotted life behind the bars.

-By Meetu Mathur Badhwar

Memoirs of a nature kid

• Meetu Mathur Badhwar, Hindustan Times, Chandigarh
 |  
• Updated: Sep 01, 2014 09:15 IST
• 
  

I was sitting in my balcony, feeding my year-old the parantha I had made with "extra ghee" for her, when a sparrow came and pecked on the plate. Before I could react, it flew away. I pegged away at feeding my daughter again but the aerial attack was a reason enough to distract her. Giving myself to her whims, I joined her in admiring the bottlebrush tree on which the bird had now perched.

The tree held a nest in which three fledglings were waiting eagerly for their food. Their white, grizzly stomachs glowed in the pleasant winter sun. Mother sparrow was putting small morsels into their mouths and the chicks, with their mouths open, were trying to compete for feed.

The visual delight filled my heart with the fragrance of the memories of the times when I would study in my lawns, fuelling myself with sesame sweets and groundnuts. One day while studying, the sound of "tut-tut" attracted my attention. A squirrel under my table was holding a groundnut. It first ripped its brown rind and after removing the pink peel meticulously started to nibble at it.

I liked the similar body language of squirrels and human beings in the course of snacking on groundnuts. It seemed the squirrel had also invited her birdie friends to the feast, as a mynah, a sparrow, and a beautiful winged guest with a red glossy beak now relished the sumptuous banquet.

Sitting there all day long, I would listen to the pleasant bird sounds. The twitter of a mynah and the high-pitched squeaks of parrots gave me joy. My father would feed the pigeons early in the day. If he was delayed for any reason, the birds would start pecking on the roof, with an aggression that betrayed impatience for the first meal of the day.

This also reminds me of "Mataji", which is what my family called her on the lines of "cow is our mother". It had beautiful, sooted eyes, would moo at the main gate and go away after eating her chapati. In contrast to the pigeons that landed early morning, she was patient, maybe because she was "Mataji".

Today, when the flat culture of metropolitan cities has made the once common birds and animals a rare sight, there remain few pleasant moments to stumble upon in busy lives. With the concrete jungles mushrooming everywhere, our progeny would see mynahs and squirrels only in Google images, and would have to go on to the internet to prepare even a small write-up on "cow". I wish our age-old relationship with billi mausi and chanda mama doesn't become a thing of the past.

The onus of connecting our children to nature is on us. Let's begin by taking baby steps in the direction. The simplest workable idea is to start putting a water bowl for birds in our balconies and asking the children to take care of it. Give them an opportunity to have the feel-good moments of life that we still cherish.

She came on a palanquin and left on a bier

http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/life-style/relationships/soul-curry/She-came-on-a-palanquin-and-left-on-a-bier/articleshow/52464588.cms 

She came on a palanquin and left on a bier (Confluence Pictures/Getty Images)

I met her countless times, but all such meetings remained one-sided. I had a fairly busy routine those days. My Master's degree in journalism and job in a media organization were going on hand-in-hand. I would only give cursory glance to the newspaper in the morning and would read the rest in bits and pieces as and when I got time throughout the day. However, on Sundays, I would take my cup of tea and the newspaper, along with its Sunday special supplements, straight to the terrace and sit on the marble slab there, which served as a multi-purpose table and gave a bird's eye view of the street.

I would meet her there. I admit to seeing her sneakily from the corner of my eyes.

She lived in the house right opposite to ours. The family had shifted recently to our locality and it was her maternal granny's house. Her parents lived in some nearby village and she was sent to the city for better education and a better life, of course! Her rosy complexion, prominent features, naturally kohled expressive eyes, and petite figure typified youthful charm and freshness. She must have been around twenty-two, but her demeanor explained her naivety. I would mostly see her playing with her little nephews. She could be seen laughing boisterously on jokes standing in the middle of the street and playing marbles with coterie of her little friends. She would ride bicycle with her buddies and sang songs with them when electricity went off, as if trying to dispel darkness with her sweet voice. She would dance and drench herself when it rained. To me, she personified both beauty and innocence. I always found myself drawn towards her, but could never break the ice.

One day I got to know that she was getting married. I usually shied away from attending parties and gatherings, but just could not resist from seeing her as a bride. She looked ravishing in her bright orange wedding lehenga-choli with kundan work all over. Her face radiated with the glow a bride carries naturally. Looking so different from the carefree lass who played in the street with her friends hitherto, she accepted my best wishes with a blush.

• ये हैं इंडिया की टॉप 8 फेमस गनDainik Bhaskar
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Days passed by and her memories, which were already faint in my mind faded away completely. I got busy with my exams and then, one fateful morning I woke up to the heart-rending cries from the neighborhood. Cries that confirmed of some mishap even without corroborating it. My mother went out and returned with an extremely upsetting news...the young woman across the door had committed SUICIDE!

I was standing aghast, when my mother told me that she had become yet another victim of the dowry system, almost omnipresent in our society. Right after her nuptials, she was harassed for not bringing the desired amount of cash along with her. Her husband and in-laws behaved in a brutal manner if she tried to counter or oppose them. She was not happy with her marriage and her man and wanted to walk away from it, but her parents muzzled her citing that an Indian woman goes to her sasural in a palanquin and leaves it on bier. And it so happened, she was silenced, silenced forever.

Top Comment

just need to keep educating our girls, may be then the MIL will be educated and stop torturing the DIL. I unfortunately have very little faith faith in the Indian men.Mausumi Choudhury

But, her charming face still haunts and compels me to figure out and understand how the parents, who are moved by the small injuries to their darling daughters, turn blind to the wounds she carries on her soul once she is married off. We may unanimously blame it on our rotten social system, but the truth remains that no matter how modern we become, our desire to give and take dowry doesn't seem to diminish. A bride gets respect at her in-laws' place in proportion to the dowry (let us not pass it off as gifts and hide our greed) she brings with her. But, with raising number of dowry deaths, isn't it high time to decide whether we want to do away with this perverted system which thrives across all social classes in India though banned here for 50 years now or want to keep putting lives of our innocent daughters at stake? I would especially request our youth to give it a serious thought and before demanding anything from your parents (even girls don't lag behind in asking for gifts during their weddings) or parents-in-law, please think over the repercussions it may bring, if not for you, for others.

- By Meetu Mathur Badhwar

It takes two to tango

Delhi government’s odd-even traffic policy aimed at putting check on rising levels of air pollution in the city has been fetching mixed bag of reactions since its very inception. Some people are finding it an impractical and unsustainable idea which would only cause inconvenience to common people whereas there is a sizeable segment of society which is taking it as a tiny but potential step towards creating better environment. Now as a week has been over since the roll out of the scheme, it seems to see some daylight.

As a common Delhiite my first observation is not about air quality but the roads. Free from the maddening crowd of vehicles they seem to have heaved a sigh of relief, especially during the peak office hours. Driving to workplace is a hectic experience in Delhi with honking horns creating din in ears, two-wheelers making their way through the narrow passages between road biggies, by lanes occupied by scooters, motorbikes, and even cars giving no space to cycle riders whom they actually are meant for. For pedestrians, crossing a road at busy hours means waiting for long before the rushing cars and bikes give them way but since the onset of New Year the scenario looks somewhat changed. With less traffic on the roads, you are less vulnerable to traffic jams and hope to ride with little more dignity on roads. Reduction in commuting time and parking convenience are added benefits.

But like anything else this policy has its own odds. We cannot undermine the fact that mobility is something very essential to growth, be it an individual or a geographical unit but at the same time it necessarily doesn’t come by using private vehicles. This mobility can also be achieved through self-sufficient and efficient public transport system. The government is trying to even out the odds in this regard by promoting car pooling, making thousands of extra buses ply on the roads and more frequent and better metro services but still daily commuters are experiencing some practical problems, say, metro stations being very far from their houses, auto rickshaws overcharging and refusing to go to any place not of their choice etc. No doubt efforts by the government need to be taken to a level where people start enjoying hassle free public transport instead of tedious driving to their destination but this cannot happen overnight.

One more reason of fretting is government’s decision of keeping two-wheelers, women drivers, VIPs etc. outside the ambit of the policy. Yes, it is a valid point which has also been questioned by the High Court of Delhi. Experts tell two-wheelers come second in polluting air only after trucks. Out of 89 lakh registered vehicles in Delhi 45 lakh are reported to be two-wheelers. But the government plans not to give such exemptions to two-wheelers and women drivers in next phase of the scheme. One more logic put forward by those against the policy is that construction dust, agricultural waste burning, illegal mining etc. also prove hazardous to environment, then why should the sword dangle only over the automobiles? Right. Let us see if the government. implements cleaning by vacuum cleaners from April 1, 2016 as announced by It. It may give respite from dust problem but we should remember that the experts have suggested that vehicular emissions prove more noxious than construction dust as they affect the people commuting on roads as well those who reside close to main roads.

Not going into the politics of the issue, Let us wake up and smell the coffee. Delhihas become world’s most polluted city. Tests conducted by city doctors reveal that one out of four Delhiites is suffering with bad lung health. Even young school going children are facing respiratory problems and nebulizing. Health researchers have come up with the studies which suggest that microscopic particles present in diesel are carcinogens and reactive gases like carbon monoxide, nitrogen oxide etc. emitted by vehicles damage human cells and lead them to inflammation of respiratory system which results in various respiratory diseases.

Let us come out of our respective comfort zones and cooperate the government in implementing the scheme as it takes two to tango. I appeal not to resort to using fake number plates, buying two-wheelers, looking for exemptions. Let time tell whether this policy will work or not but please give it a chance for the sake of our future. Let us set an example for others to follow. Let us espouse it, at least for sometime in an effort to give our next generation a cleaner and clearer air to breathe. As Alexander Lowen once said:

“We live in an ocean of air like fish in a body of water. By our breathing we are attuned to our atmosphere. If we inhibit our breathing we isolate ourselves from the medium in which we exist. In all Oriental and mystic philosophies, the breath holds the secret to the highest bliss.”