Guilt

I am sitting at a Café. It has actually become a kind of second home for me here. Every evening, walk on the road to temple, and stop at this place to devour some tasty sandwiches and thick shakes. Compared to US standards, this can be an extremely cheap place, and for Indian standards, a medium range… I enjoy the food they offer and I love the ambience. And yes, they also have internet :)

So, it is a part of my routine. Finish off the days work, take a taxi up from the office, and then spend some time here serving my empty grueling stomach, while observing beautiful colorful sunsets in the mountains, beyond the rivers and plateau. I love it… Today is one another such evening. I have just finished one sandwich, but as I had skipped my lunch today, I am still hungry. I have ordered one more sandwich, while I am sipping thick mango shake, while checking my emails and observing the changing skies.

On the opposite side of the road is sitting an old lady. Have you ever seen those award winning pictures of old people, full of wrinkles? She is a personification of those pictures, or rather the elected representative. Full of wrinkles, old worn out saree, a small steel can containing her water and a piece of paper which wraps a few crums of food. She is neither a beggar nor does carry on her face the “laachari” or pity of a beggar. She has her smile, content on what she has. She looks at me and gives a half smile, unsure of me smiling back. And I proved her right… My smile did not get bigger as much as hers, I am engrossed in my thoughts. Possibly engulfed in a guilt…

A guilt for the expensive sandwich that I have ordered, guilt for the expensive clothes I am wearing and the money I spend on phone. I am guilty of my privilege, when I see her towards the end of her life still struggling for daily bread and butter. This is not a new feeling… I have always had this. While working in MIT, when I used to see the employees of the age of my Dad or elder, coming on bicycles, eating a small tiffin and thinking twice before having a cup of tea, I felt guilty for my position, for the privileges I enjoyed of bossing on them. At my Dad’s office, I felt guilt looking at Namdev and Yadav, the two daily labourers… Though they had never been treated so by my Dad, rather they enjoyed a privileged position!

Yes, a feeling that has always permeated me, through my skin and soul. Rather, I recall an incidence, when the lady of my life was with me. We were, I assume, passing through a tough time. And she had made a statement, a profound statement that did not make much sense then but makes much more now. She had said, “Darshan, I cannot spend my lifetime with a person who would think of the farmer while eating his meals, who would think of poor while living his life. I don’t mean I do not feel for them, but I cannot put myself in their shoes every other moment. I cannot do this to myself.”

Now, looking back, I think she was right. I cannot do this to myself either. But, then how do I live a guilt free but considerate life?

P.S.: the picture is neither the old lady's nor is it clicked by me. It is thanks to google!

Threshold

Here’s a story… “I was around 13, staying in a remote village. My parents are farmers, and so, I used to work with them. My responsibility was to take the cow to grasslands, and get her back home in the evening. There was no school, no electricity, nothing. The life was a mere routine. One day, my cousin said, let’s go over the fence. On the other side of the fence is where the school is, on the other side of the fence is where the teacher is… Let’s go… My heart cried, let’s go… And I started walking…”

This is not a story from a school text emphasizing the importance of education, neither is it a fairy tale, where she crosses over the fence and her struggles are all over. This is the story of my colleague, an employee of Central Tibetan Authority (CTA) functioning from exile in Dharamshala in India. And the fence is the Tibet-Nepal-India border, the teacher, His Holiness the XIV Dalai Lama. At the age of 13, she left her remote village in the Tibetan land, in search of education and a better dignified life, because her cousin told her so. She was told that they will arrive on Nepal border in 15 days, a guide was there to take them along. She had paid 700 Yuan for that, possibly all her savings. Without any idea of the terrain they are going to go through, without any idea of where they were headed, without even basic life supporting material such as enough food, this little girl started walking with seven other Tibetans, juts in the hope of a better life. Not even her parents knew, where she was… Rather, her mother went to a monastery every day for six months, and finally gave up the hope of finding her, choosing a thought that she dreaded. The thought that her daughter was no more… But, the daughter had pursued a dream. She walked, at times without food for 3 days, at times seeing one of her friends get blind because of the reflections from snow, at times begging from nomads, she walked and walked and walked. After a walk of “one month and fourteen days” (this is how she puts it), they arrived on the Nepal Border. This is when the pains eased a bit. Received by the Tibetan reception center, they were sent on a bus to Delhi, India, and from there she was sent to Dharamshala. Considering her age and her knowledge, she was further sent to a school in South India, and then University.

A girl, who had not learnt to read and write till the age of 13, started her education at the age of 14, today, at about 30, already has a masters in arts. Her quench for knowledge has not yet sufficed… She wants to learn more. Do more for Tibetans and for the welfare of her people. She has no regrets, no over-reacting emotions. It is just her matter of fact life story, that is what she claims.

I was left speechless listening to this. A casual ask-out, as you may want to term it, turned in an evening full of emotions. We were walking the streets of McLeod as Abhay wanted to do a bit of shopping. Abhay had called her to help us out with the shops, and she had immediately obliged. Without a word, without any hesitation. We finished the shopping, and I asked her out, asked her to join us for a cup of coffee, and she agreed. It was me and Abhay, bragging about our world, our topics. Two women with us on table, nodding to what we were saying. And, realizing the situation, I asked her a casual question, “What made you come to India?” And came the story…

I came to Dharamshala as per my schedule. Stayed here for 7 days, but was so bored and was missing home, so went back to Pune for 7 days, before restarting my internship. I proudly claim to everyone that my threshold to stay away from my parents, family, and friends is not more than 4 months, and here, I was sitting with a girl who had spoken to her mother for the first time after her escape, after more than a decade. And that was the only time she had spoken with her mother. Now she has some contact with her brother, but that too is occasional. She cannot call them regularly else they will be in trouble. She cannot visit them as easily, because she has to get papers cleared form Chinese embassy in New Delhi.

What is her threshold? What is the threshold of Tibetan patience? What is the threshold of infinite compassion encompassing the heart of His Holiness? What is the threshold of this world, where we will keep on watching these injustices around us every moment, until we react? What is the threshold that conflict has to achieve, to topple itself into peace?

Incidentally, my threshold seems very low. The overwhelming incidence already has shaken us (me, Abhay, and Fahmida)… I feel a need for a hug, and once again I remember… What did she do at the age of 13, arriving in a foreign land? Who was there to hug her?

I bow in front of her threshold…

Common bath

July 2008: Me and my would be roommate, Ketan are looking for apartments. Our main criterion is dollars, and then a decent living place. We do not mind if we have to “share a bath.” The search continues for a while… My host father has offered to check an apartment that seems to be good online. The finalization is postponed till we arrive in the US.

August 2008: We check the apartment. And yes, we have finalized it. The change is, primary criterion has already changed from “dollars” to “separate toilet bath.” Many reasons propel this change, the most evident being the stay with a friend who shares a bath with his roommate!

Today: Today when I look back, I am glad the priorities had changed at the right time. Now, after more than two months of traveling and experiencing dozens of toilet-baths, I realize the pleasure of having your own li’l corner in the house… ;)

I wake up this morning and proceed to the bath, to see it all strewn with foam and water and hair. AND, this is not only for this morning. It has been a picture most of the times, where I had to share a bath. My day has been starting with a bucket of water, liquid soap, and cleaning gear. Before even I step in, I get a mug of water from some other tap in the house to clean my walkway in the bath. Then starts the actual cleaning… I always wondered how someone could take half an hour for a shower. Now, I claim to take more than that, but fortunately or unfortunately, 90% of that time is spent in the cleaning routine.

Since my childhood, the only responsibility I might have religiously shouldered in my house, was of cleaning the toilet, the washbasin, and the bathroom. I still remember the moment, while reading Mahatma Gandhi’s autobiography, when I read about his routine of cleaning the toilets of his Ashram, I was so proud of myself. Cos I was doing it (though just for the sake of my Mom, but…)…

Anyway, so back to today… I enter the bath strewn with everything I didn’t wish to see. Spend my routine “30” minutes in cleaning it, and now when I am supposed to use it… “Knock Knock” the door bangs… Abhay is under urgent call, and wants me to rush out… I choose the blog to vent out my emotions…

The dog seem's luckier in this case...

O M P H

Om Mani Padme Hum.. Om Mani Padme Hu.. Om Mani Padme Huunn..

Being led by a Tibetan lady to rotate the praying wheels in the Dalai Lama temple at McLeod Ganj near Dharamshala, this is how our (mine and Abhay's) mantra transformed... Starting with a proper Sanskrit 'Hum', I ended up with a proper Tibetan "Huunn" pronounced with cupping your lips!

Now you would ask, why was I doing that in first place? Because first of all I believe in higher power, second I believe in experiencing the culture of my geographic location (which in last 3 months have changed several times), and third, I love Tibetans! Though I have been warned several times (by Tibetans) that I should stop seeing the Dalai Lama in every Tibetan, I can't help it.. ;)

Anyway, so I'm getting in touch with you all after long. You were accustomed to my mood swings in person, but my mood swings in writing are much extreme. Till I do not nail it down, writing is not my cup of tea! Ohhh.. that reminds me, I have progressed way beyond three cups of tea... Though started only more thna a month back, my tea drinking habit is picking up the speed of Rajdhani express (those who do not know, it is the India superfast train connecting metropolitan citis with the capital). So, anyway, I am loving it. And my favorite is black ginger tea with lemon and honey... And also, once in a while, the typical kattyacha chaha, round the nook and corners of Pune! Long ago, once on an early morning drive with my girl friend (who loved chai), we went to this old chai place in the old city of Pune. She tried coercing me to taste a sip, but I would not budge. Chai was a big big no then. And, the other day, with another friend of mine, I went to the same place, but this time devoured the chai! That's how one changes... ;)

Most important, while I am writing, some one has to come in... Abhay's already done with his work and wants to go for a "cup of tea." So guys, I'll see you around soon (hoping to continue with my writing spree for a while). Till then, adios! Miss ya all..

Rebel at Grameen

Bangladesh kept me on toes… If I say Grameen or workload kept me on toes, it would be a false statement. But, ‘Bangladesh kept me on toes’ is surely a right phrase! If I am supposed to compare my work output and the amount of time I am putting in, it might be one of the worst ratios ever. Actually, there is not much work that I can do anyway. Most of my internship is about learning through observation. Anyhow, I never realize how I end up spending most of my time in work related activities! In the remaining time, I try to squeeze in some for reading and some for television!

So, what have I been doing actually? I have been observing the functioning of Grameen Bank, visiting field offices, branch offices, interacting with borrowers, members, and field staff, so on and so forth. I also visited other Grameen organizations such as Grameen Shakti, Grameen Danone, Grameen Trust, Grameen Kalyan, etc. Grameen is like this gigantic structure which holds more than 30 organizations/social businesses/operations in its embrace.

Today was my last day at Grameen! Tomorrow I’ll be flying for Birmingham for the Rotary Peace Symposium. To conclude the internship, all the interns are expected to write a report about their experience with Grameen and submit the same. What happens of that report? I found hundreds of old reports in a cupboard, stacked over each other, full of dust! Most of the reports spoke the same things, the visit to Grameen, and experiences of interviews. A few were actual replication of past reports. I was unsure if I wanted to join the bandwagon by writing a report that will be stacked and never looked at. So, I chose a radical way. Instead of praising Grameen and writing a redundant report, I chose to highlight the concerns about the internship program. Keep my report as short as possible so that it would be worth reading and would help the concerned make any changes if possible. I did not wish to claim that I knew everything and that what all was happening was wrong. My only idea was to highlight some crucial factors that kept surfacing in my discussions with other interns. And so, started the report!

I turned in my report yesterday and had a meeting with the GM of the international programs department. She was rather happy that I had written a report which would help Grameen with the internship program. The report was accompanied with a basket of mangoes for all the staff, thanking them for all their help. Everything seemed well, but only till this morning! Today morning, when I went to Grameen to express my final words of gratitude and receive my internship certificate, the picture was different. My coordinator did not have his usual smile, nor there was much chatter. With a blank face, my coordinator asked me to wait cos the DGM wanted to have a meeting with me. I was already in pain due to a splitting headache… And to top it, this confusion. Or, was I already expecting this, and my headache was a signal?

The DGM came and asked me what I had done during my period at Grameen and none of it was shown in my report. I told her that in first few paragraphs I had specified why I have not written about them. Then I had a meeting with my coordinator and another coordinator. As I came to know, it was being taken as a negative feedback bout my coordinator, which in reality was not the case. Rather I had thanked my coordinator in the report for all of his support. Anyway, to cut the long story short, I realized that either my communication skills sucked or else there was a huge communication gap cum misunderstanding… My report has been taken as if I do not appreciate Grameen neither do I appreciate its work, nor do I understand Prof. Yunus. For those who all know me, know that this is not true… And now, I have to put it in a way that it will be understood by the Grameen people…

Friends, often than not, we choose to keep silent about the concerns we might have in regard of the things we love. The same silence at time is mistaken as an approval of what is happening. And when someone chooses to speak the unspoken, it leads to misunderstandings… This is not my first experience with it… It is evident from the title “Rebel” awarded to me by Susan!

True love

इस भीड़ में हम नज़र ना आयेंगे तुम्हें, यह सच हैं मेरे दोस्त |
पर अपनी हर पूरी होती तमन्ना में, हमारी दुआओं का असर तुम पाओगे ज़रूर |
- शून्यांकीत

It is true my friend, you will not see me in this crowd. But, in every dream of yours that comes true, you will feel the impact of my well wishes!

The untold story

The following is an excerpt from a book I just read… A few lines that can leave an impact!

“He fell in love with an exceptionally beautiful girl… She led him into the world of love and ecstasy, but… [He] was extremely hurt but he bore no grudge against her, because after some time she was no longer a human being to him. Instead she became a symbol of true love and beauty of life!

… a poem by Rabindranath Tagore

All that I got,
All that I lost,
All that I left behind,
All the shadows that disappeared in the horizon,
All the treasures of life, big and small,
Nothing will go waste,
They will find their fulfillment
However much you ignore them!
“

The book is titled, “Of Blood and Fire – The untold story of Bangladesh’s war of independence” by Jahanara Imam.