Bhajans Ooh Lala…

“This time we are planning to visit an old age home and we would be spending the whole evening with elderly people, are you interested?”, my wife inquired from me.  She was informing about the programme to be organised by their ladies association.

“But what social cause would be served by this?” I regretted after asking this question.

“How can you be so insensitive to elder citizens of our society and don't forget that you too are getting older very rapidly”, she informed me as a matter of fact.

IRSLA, Mumbai Chapter has been taking up many programmes of social cause and some of which were related with burning social issues and our participation in such issues was also a reminder that we have already stopped thinking in terms of the general welfare of the society and maybe to some extent we have lost touch with realities.  However in the instant case while agreeing to attend the Bhajan Sandhya, I was also thinking that in the fast pace of life we have forgotten to remember the God too and it was an opportunity to redeem ourselves in the eyes of the gods.

As per the schedule I reached the place with my family which was not a faraway from our residence and which was very appropriately named as “Manav Seva Sangh”.  The function was arranged in a large hall which could easily accommodate more than 200 people and I found that it was also having dutifully decorated stage indicating that some celebrity was expected to perform there.  On enquiry I was intimated that Kavita Powdwal was expected to grace the occasion and it would be she who would sing all the bhajans that evening for senior citizens. 

But before the function was formally inaugurated I thought of exploring the place and I found that it was sort of high end old age home from Indian standards.  The whole area was fully air-conditioned and it was maintained swanky clean.  It appeared that hotel type rooms were meant for elderly people with all the modern facilities.  Neatly dressed people were everywhere to assist and things appear to be managed very meticulously with corporate like precision and sincerity.  But still it was an old age home and somehow for the visitor in me the atmosphere seemed not to be very relaxed like any normal home.  One of the volunteer help fully informed that the present days when children are working overseas and many of them have emigrated leaving their parents behind, creation of more such homes is the idea time of which has come.  I was informed that some of the residents have been overseas with their children for some time and in some cases for some years but the found it too difficult to live in alien places with alien people.  Money has not been any problem to them but it was the company in search of which they were staying there.

I could see that there was arrangement of in-house cooking laundry and very amazingly a place for worshipping for largely Hindu elderly residents.  It was informed that the puja and bhajan consisted of large part of the day for residents.  I thought of inquiring about other aspects of this place but suddenly there was some excitement in the corridor and I was informed that the singer for the evening had arrived with her co-artists.  All the people were requested to occupy chairs in the hall.  Then I realised that the formalities have already begun when IRSLA, the organisation was being introduced and its good work in the area of social welfare was also being explained.  The concern for elderly members of society was expressed and responsibility of all of us to make their lives comfortable was re-emphasised and then the cultural programme started.

Kavita Powdwal has a very sweet voice and she started with old devotional melodies which we used to listen very often in our childhood days and in no time the audience was enthralled and mesmerised by her rendition.  Suddenly I heard her speaking over microphone that she had come to the place not just to sing but to dance with the elderly residents and she would see to it that everyone present there should be on their feet that evening.

On being persuaded by her and enthused by her beautiful singing, almost each one of us were on feet and each one of us was dancing and it was such an emotional feeling to see the elderly citizens all smiling and largely happiness seemed to be flowing in the form of blessing emanating from smiles and happiness of the dancing and singing elderly people around.  Suddenly it appeared that we all are amongst a big family and the place look like a big Indian family celebration where everyone seemed to be happy and cheerful.  It was a sight to behold when there appeared to be people from all three generations celebrating together and it was nothing but the happiness around.  I was wondering whether it was tokenism on our part or on the part of the residents for whom it was a day for meeting outside people who were not a part of their day-to-day world.

Suddenly I heard an announcement from the stage when Kavita Powdwal announced that she would be singing the bhajans on demand.  If anyone wishes to listen specific bhajan then he or she could make a request to her and she would sing that specific bhajan.  It was the time when spirits were high and many people requested for many of their favourite bhajans and Kavita sang their requests very beautifully.  Suddenly I found her a speaking our microphone,

“Any more specific bhajan, if you wish to listen today, it is all your evening and all your wishes would be fulfilled today”, this was again once in lifetime offer for the spellbound audience and people requested for some of the bhajans which were really very old and even I never heard or knew whether they really existed.  However, Kavita has been gracious enough to sing almost all the bhajans requested that evening by elder citizens.

“Anyone left, any more request please”, she announced again and she was still ready to oblige.

“I want to listen “ ooh lala… ooh lala… Song”, I saw a smiling person, who appeared to be in his eighties, standing and making his request to Kavita.

I could sense the sudden silence thereafter as it was almost unimaginable that someone was requesting for a Bollywood raunchy hit song in the evening meant for bhajans.

“Well, I will sing that Song when I come here next time”, Kavita handled the request very sensibly.

“Any more bhajan you would like to listen, this is going to be the last bhajan for the evening”, I heard her repeating over the microphone.

The programme continued till late in evening and it was followed by a sumptuous dinner.  But while returning back to home I was still thinking of the request to listen the “ooh lala… Song” by the elderly resident that evening.  I was wondering whether our society also seemed to have created the stereotype for our elderly members as if they had to spend their time only in bhajan and worshipping as if they don't have any worldly desires like other younger people in the society.  Maybe this stereotype has been created because of the economic reasons when we start considering that elderly people are well past their productive years and by spending their time in his religious things they could reach to their salvation as per our great Indian tradition and for this purpose one has to the get rid of their all worldly attachments and desires. 

If we think rationally and do not confuse ourselves with philosophy then there seems to be no need to make any effort for that elusive salvation rather very conscious efforts are needed to be made for the materialistic and emotional comforts of our elderly members.  With the advancement of medical and other facilities, people are relatively healthier even in their advance years of age and particularly with mechanisation and surge in the services as part of the GDP one is not required to be physically present to do all the work.  This is otherwise a great opportunity rather anything like problem.

There can't be any retirement age for the person doing accounts keeping or a person dealing with the interpretation of law; similarly for a teacher or a writer the concept of retirement age seems to have been created artificially.  To be very truthful in my personal opinion and experience I have seen the experience in these kind of areas are far more valuable and which could be utilised as guiding force for the younger generations.  With the new economic development, requirement of such experienced personnel have grown manifold and time has come for all of us to start thinking of in terms of practical aspects rather then in terms of stereotypes created by our society.  Otherwise also the concept of salvation, known as “Sanyas” in our society, has always been a concept available only in the books for the consumption of the Indian society and nobody has ever given this any serious thought in any era.  There is a beautiful observation on this issue by Subroto Bagchi in his book “Go Kiss the World”, where he says that one should actually never retire rather one should only cut down his engagements in the old age. 

Somehow I felt very cheerful thereafter to think that the desire of our elderly people are still there to listen and enjoy “ooh Lala… Song” rather than to listen bhajans, despite being older than rest of us.

My dear friend Suresh says, "Dil to Bachcha hai jee"...Amen

THE TAJMAHAL OF SEEMANDHRA

The name of the place, Machilipatnam, has always been a subject of curiosity for me because the word Machili, the fish, is pure Hindi word and even after spending around six years in Andhra Pradesh, I never heard anyone calling a fish Machili rather in Deccani speaking areas of Hyderabad they used to call it only Machchhi.  Similarly while reading William Dalrymple's book “White Mughals” I came across several references of the place Machilipatnam and it appeared that this place was not only a major port in the 16th to 19th century but also it was a place where all the major European powers established their business centres called factories.  Somehow it was intriguing for me to learn that there have been British, French, Dutch, Portuguese and Danish settlements here in the various periods of time.  In fact Dalrymple describes the route from Hyderabad to Machilipatnam in the great detail which used to be not only a major trade route but also this was the major port even during British period for the areas under control of Nizams of Hyderabad.  I was told about existence of an old fort of British period but I never knew about this British Love story through any source all along.

During the last bye-election I got an assignment in Krishna district of Andhra Pradesh.  Vijaywada being the major city of the district and having connectivity by plane, I was advised by the district administration to stay at Vijaywada itself despite Machilipatnam being the district headquarters.  But somehow my mind was still there in Machilipatnam and I requested the District Collector to make arrangements for my stay in Machilipatnam itself.  The young district collector was kind enough to make a proper arrangement for my stay in Machilipatnam but to my surprise he also instructed a retired Deputy Collector, who knew about the city and its history very well, to be in touch with me and also to show the places in Machilipatnam in its historical perspective.

The retired Deputy Collector, Mr Mohammed Silar, turned out to be not only a very knowledgeable person about the place but also he was a part-time historian who had worked very hard to preserve the remaining legacy of the place.  He was not only aware of the history of the place but also he had been able to correlate the present of Machilipatnam with its glorious and prosperous past.  But that narration would be for some other time. During the city tour on 16th of August 2013, Mr. Silar first took me to the old fort situated on the seaside of the city which is still known as Bandar (Port) Fort and while coming back he showed me the road which used to be a bridge connecting the main city to the fort. After entering into the city he brought me to a non-descript church within the city limits. 

In first impression it looked to me a dilapidated church surrounded moss and tall grass and within its boundary it seemed as if being crowded by graves and tombstones of various sizes and colours which had virtually taken over the area around the church in the course of time.  My liaison officer, Mr. Paul, informed me that graves of both of his parents are here in the same premises. It never looked anyway unusual till he showed me Graves of Charles Noble, who founded the Noble High School for boys and also that of Sharkey who established first School of girls’ way back in 19th century and also that of the family who first converted to the Christianity, Yadamma and her family.  Certainly it appeared as if history is unfolding before my eyes as the tombs were telling the stories of the individuals who shaped the history of the place in the past centuries, but that too is not the story for today.

Author at the stairs of St. Mary’s Church with Mr. Silar and the Pastor

By that time Pastor came out of the church and invited us to see the church from inside.  It did not look any spectacular rather it looked much neglected as walls appeared to be moss eaten and damp, also the benches inside the church required repair and whole church was in dire need of fresh coat of painting.  It looked to me every inch of the place which has been deserted and forgotten by its patron years back. The pastor suddenly indicated towards a grave inside the church which was again not very surprising till he described that whose grave it was and how the church came into existence.

Then he started narrating this story of the two ill-fated lovers. Way back in early nineteenth century around 1790s and 1819 when a Major-General called John Pater commandeered the British forces at Bandar Fort in Machilipatnam on the eastern coast of Andhra Pradesh. Not much information is available about the officer, his age or antecedents but what is known that the officer happened to meet Arabella, daughter of his subordinate, Captain Robinson. Apparently it was love at first sight for both and both the General and Arabella longed to get married, but…

But Arabella’s father, a Catholic, would not agree to their marriage. Because they say that Pater was a Protestant; and secondly he was already married and had left a legally married wife behind him in England. Therefore, the intended marriage between the General and Arabella was an anathema in the sight of the Church as well as the law of the land. But that did not seem to have deterred the lovers for long and it turned out that Arabella defied her father and started living with Peters openly. This is indeed quite surprising because it was unthinkable in those times even for the English society. It was known as a big scandal in Machilipatnam since such events were never known or heard in the Indian cultural setting.

But it appears that tragedy struck immediately thereafter when on November 6, 1809, malaria claimed Arabella’s life. An inconsolable Pater sought to bury her in the traditional wedding gown at the St. John’s Church in the fort and for this the General  went to the Anglican priest of  the church of St. John’s, with a view to bury Arabella in the cemetery attached to the church. But the Anglican priest refused to give the burial space. Thereafter the General turned to the Goan priest, who was ministering to the little Roman community in the Fort, for her burial. The Roman priest also declined on the grounds that they were living in sin. As such the General was filled with great disappointment and had no other way except to bury her in a private ground in the outskirts of Machilipatnam with military honours, sans prayers and priest.

That was not the end of their love. Pater had the body of Arabella, embalmed in the bridal attire. Encased in a glass box, it was lowered into a grave. Every day, twice, Pater would have a look at his beloved. Pater then decided to build a church his own in the name of Arabella in defiance of the clergy. It was for that he bought 12.5 acres of land at Anandapuram and later, in 1815, the church in memory of Arabella came up after he raised the money by selling away his London property. He spent Rs 18,000 a fortune in those days a fortune and personally built a church over the mobile tomb in defiance of the clergy. He erected an engraved slab stone describing Arabella as a very dear friend as the marriage was never solemnised or recognised by the church nor the burial place was recognised as a sanctified place. Pater then got a transfer to Madras. He handed over the church to the East India Company, but visited it every month. But he himself did not survive for long and some say it could be because of the disappointment. He lost his life at Madras in 1819 and might be thereafter the church felt guilty and in the same year it agreed to sanctify the building as a proper church and started daily services in it. Peters was commemorated in Madras by naming a park and road after his name. In 1819, public worship was allowed at the church. Later, in 1842, Bishop of Madras, Rev George Trevor Spencer, dedicated it and named it St. Mary’s.

I was informed about another twist in the story about this church that once a mishap occurred when an old caretaker accidentally handled the wooden pigeon on the wall which used to be for pulling the glass case containing embalmed body of Arabella from the grave by Pater and Arabella’s glass case sprang up and the poor old fellow was said to have died instantly in fright...so, the collector ordered it to be closed permanently.

I stood simply mesmerised there while listening to this story but when I started reading the engravings on the tomb stone which appeared me to be ultimate reflection of undying love of Pater and Arabella transcending through centuries.

This Monument

Sacred to the Memory of

ARABELLA ROBINSON

Daughter of Captain William Robinson

Of the Honourable Companys Military Service

Who died on the 6^th November 1809

was erected by her Ever

grateful and Affectionate Friend

Major General John Pater 

Looking back in time it appears to be a love story directly from the Bollywood movies but intensity of true affection and attachment in real life might have never happened anywhere on this scale. Long live love story of Arabella and Pater and long live this real Tajmahal on the eastern Indian coast. At the end I would like to quote the pastor who gave me final piece of wisdom while I was leaving that if people can’t come to church then the church has to come to the people. Amen… 

x

THE VOTE TO DISLIKE

The last Thursday, on 24 April 2014 it was the Election Day for us in Mumbai. Mumbai has a dubious distinction to be among the places showing historically the least voting percentage. They say that the extended weekend is far more important for any Mumbaikar than going out to vote. Many say that it is below the dignity of the affluent people of this place to stand in a queue like common hoi-polloi. This year, there has been several drive to motivate people of this place to come out of their comfortable homes and to discharge their national duty of voting, after all this is the way one can contribute in nation building by a strengthening democracy. To exercise the right to choose a person of your choice, that is available to each citizen of this country, which is something very unique for this largest democracy on earth as this luxury is still not available to citizens of many countries. The drive exhorting people to come out and to vote has been everywhere; in newspapers, television and on the Internet and to some extent it seemed to be successful also which reflected in the increase of the voting percentage by almost 10 points, best so far after our independence. Still there was a joke on social media that number of selfies was far more than the actual votes cast in Mumbai. Jokes apart this poll created a special confusion and dilemma for me and many of the voters in North Central constituency of Mumbai.

The sitting two-term MP is the daughter of the superstar of yesterdays who used to represent this constituency and after his death the throne was passed on to his daughter because his son was facing many criminal charges and who is presently in jail. This was little contradictory also because the residence of the supremo of the opposition party also falls within this constituency and this parliamentary seat is considered to be a strong bastion of the party at the centre. They say that only contribution she had made previously in relation to public welfare was that she had accompanied her late father during one of his padyatras. Otherwise she looked me to be very socially challenged and lacking all the skills required for a leader. The stony face always looked lacking any expression and her communication skills seem to me to be limited to murmuring some sentences before television cameras. All along during the run-up for the election I was confused whether she is the person whom I should vote for?

The second contestant, from another National party, was another daughter of a slain senior leader of the party and whose previous act of public service was of losing an assembly election. The person, who was rejected even for assembly election was found suitable for the parliamentary election. There was news that the party was finding it very difficult to find a suitable candidate for the seat to fight against the sitting MP. They were searching for some star but finally settled for this sister of a clown. I was wondering whether I should vote for the person who has nothing to do with welfare of common man. I could not attend to any of her road-shows but before the TV cameras she hardly looked inspiring enough to be given any vote.

The only colourful election office I could see nearby was of the party which is in power in one north Indian state and which has shown its presence in this part of the country because of its so-called secular credentials. Only reason for fame for this boy is that he is the son of one sitting MLA of the same party and in this state both the party and the person is same. This boy also has an additional experience of losing an assembly seat vacated by his father besides marrying a former bollywood star. They say that he is true reflection of an enterprising person from the north who has made it big by selling leather footwear in Mumbai (Another one made it big by selling vegetables and was former minister and the state party chief). The father has a reputation of being loose cannon and many a time by simply opening his mouth he has created many avoidable controversies, the quality that is not expected from anyone working in the space of public service. From the cut-outs, placed near his election office, he appeared to me to be dumb and somehow he appeared to be posing for photos shoots for publicity of movies; maybe because of being married to a bollywood star. In TV interviews he claimed to be one youth icon but he appeared to me to be a clown not worthy of getting my vote.

A week before the actual voting day, we in family started to discuss as to whom should we vote for? We were very sincere for carrying out our national duty to choose what is best for the country but simultaneously we were very confused to see is the options available to us. I was still under pressure from several advertisements and the drive by the Election Commission to vote for the best person. Then suddenly I thought that their educational qualifications could be some indicator and then I did some search over the Internet. I found that the daughter of the late actor was a simple graduate from some college but the remaining two were not having any degree at all, basically illiterate and perfectly fit for running the country. I was already under profound confusion to learn all three were possessing properties worth hundreds of crores, what was driving me crazy that the two ladies in the contest looked very masculine to me and the boy looked very effeminate. My effort to reach that any decision was causing severe headache to me and then I realised that nobody votes in this country on any parameters to choose the best person; we are all guided by our own prejudices and merit of the candidate is the least of our priority while selecting our representatives. Even if we go by some parameters then we don’t have suitable options available to carry out our national duty honestly.

Then I thought that there is one sure shot way to reach at the decision; I thought that I would vote for one whom I dislike the least among these three. Suddenly everything looked very clear and there was no confusion. Even the decision of voting I arrived at, looked very reasonable to me. My wife reminded me as to whether I am ignoring pressing national issues like nation-building, our economic development, our youth, technological developments, revival of the economy and above all the wave of change? Somehow I had only one reason while voting that the candidate whom I disliked the least here in North Central constituency in Mumbai is the person of my choice for getting my vote. Whom did you vote for and what were your parameters for voting?

A House of Cards

This morning I thought for going for a walk after a very long time. I simply came out of my house before it could go for another round of nap and in the process I left my purse and mobile behind. Not a big deal after all I was not going for shopping. But while I was starting my bike to go to the nearby play ground I realised that my driving licence has been left in the purse at my home. Suddenly, I started thinking then that I didn't have even my identity cards and then I realised that I had already started feeling uncomfortable. In this mega city I am an unknown person a person without identity, only because I don’t have any identity card.

While walking I was having multiple worries. If the traffic police asks for the driving licence on the next corner, if suddenly something goes wrong and I land up in hospital. I hardly know anybody around, nobody knows me in this big-city. Having left my purse behind I have no identity and simultaneously I have no means to make any kind of payments, no cash and no cards even I can’t make a call. I was feeling even more uncomfortable now; one card allows me to ride my bike another permits me to drive the car, here is my quarterly railway pass which permits me to board the local train every day to my office. There is another identity card which permits me to enter into my office still it is better than those cards people wear around their neck in most of the offices nowadays and this is very common in all the ministries. There are multiple debit and credit cards to confuse our financial life in addition to the PAN Card and the TAN Card. There are other health check cards and not to forget cards from each of the shops where you keep making purchases and your purchase points keep getting accumulated. Then I started thinking of the Club card, Gym card, Health Card issued by hospitals, my own CGHS card, Railway pre-paid card, Airlines preferred customer card, voter’s identity card, Aadhar card, Pre-paid and post paid mobile cards, Pink Card, Yellow Card, Red Card, Green Card, Poverty Card, Ration Card and there are now Gold, Silver and Platinum Cards to measure as to how rich you are and as to how big your status is? It is simply a never ending stream of cards in our life.

I was wondering who is using whom; whether we are using these cards for our own comfort or this system is using various cards to regulate us humans. It had become now a real nightmare both to manage these cards and also to manage life without these cards. In any developed system; consolidation and convergence of information of stake holders is the requirement of the day. But, what is happening that this world has become very complex with so many cards floating around to make our life even far more complex. This system of issuing cards, at the drop of the hat, is certainly is not human centric rather these cards are being issued for the benefit of a particular system used by us humans; this is the system centric.

It is high time now to think for only one card having all the details of a particular person which could be used to update the database of the particular system that the person is using. Similarly now the technology has improved to the extent that even the card carried by the person could store the updated new information and may be our lives could be simpler without these hundreds of cards. But if that single card is lost then what; let our system be built around us human beings where his or her presence itself replaces the requirements of all the cards. Are we ready for it?

Cool Breeze from the North-East

In the wake of the recent attack and the unfortunate death of a young boy from Arunachal Pradesh in Delhi, the raciest attitude of people in North India is again in news. But I believe that there is nothing new so far the attitude of people of north Indian cities towards people from African countries and people having different racial features particularly towards those coming from hill areas and from north-east in particular is concerned. During my stay of three years in Delhi, somehow the feeling of being unsafe was always there and fact is that Delhi has never been a woman friendly city. Above all language spoken on its streets is as rough as its extreme weather conditions. Years of misrule in many northern states have forced youths from these areas to migrate to Delhi in search of both education and livelihood. This has resulted in evolution of rent culture in many areas of Delhi where main source of income of large number of house owners is rent only and a whole economy of such areas is dependent upon these migrated people from other states.

          Because of this lots of jobs have been created in and around Delhi in both goods and services sector. In this situation locals should have not only been thankful to the people from other states but they should treat these migrating people with respect rather than showing any contempt or misbehaving in any manner. I have had opportunity to see many Bihari students living in hellish conditions in many parts of Delhi still paying exorbitantly to the local house owners only in anticipation that they would be able to make it big in the alien place because situation was even bad in back their home states.

          I was wondering as to whether the present Delhi government is not playing cahoots with locals, particularly local traders, in opposing the FDI in retail. Apparently in their sub-conscious mind, they are aware that many jobs created in this sector would be cornered by these English-speaking smart and polished youths from the North East. This is not very uncommon to see youths from North-Eastern region working in malls, departmental stores and shops in various parts of Delhi and around it. Also the kinds of expertise required for working in service sectors like call centers and retails, these youths are best suited again for the same reasons. We need to learnt lessons from this unfortunate incident and this country needs to take some concrete steps with clear objective to integrate our youths from the North- East in the mainstream.

          This thought process has pulled me back to my college days in BCE Patna where many of my friends were from North-East and I have vivid recollections of the time spent with them. The carefree birds from the hilly region were more than a gush of fresh air for all of us who had spent all our times in the same state. Many of them were much ahead of time when their respective lives were only in the present tense. Those students were very fond of western dress, western music and western movies. I can’t deny the fact that I had seen all initial Jackie Chan’s and Stallone’s action movies with them only. I sincerely think in hindsight that I could have imbibed the attitude of being careless towards studies also from them which otherwise was of not use subsequently in life and maybe I could have at least enjoyed my days in the Engineering college the way they did.

I can recall vividly one shivaratri day when I was in final year. My very good friend Sanna from Manipur came to my room with grim look and requested me to come to his room reflecting as if there was something very very serious. When I entered into his room I was surprised to find around twenty of them, all from North East and from first year to final year were present in the room and some of them were sitting on floor and many were sitting on the bed. Front part of the room was vacated by shifting beds and there was a small statue of Shiva-Parvati on the floor. Everyone was staring me very expectantly.

Sanna requested me pour the milk, stored in a small vessel, on the statue apparently to perform the puja and to start the shivaratri celebrations. I was not only surprised but also I was thinking why me? But I had to comply and I folded my hands and offered my obeisance while muttering some mantra praising the Lord and then poured the milk on the statue.

Suddenly it was commotion all over and everybody was chanting “Har Har Mahadev” and “Jai Jai Shiv Shambho” and in a flash couple of packets of marijuana was produced and in a swift action and it was cut, rubbed and again very swiftly mixed with little tobacco and transferred to emptied cigarettes. By the time I could recollect as to what was happening around, the room was full of sweet smoke. Many of them came to me and wished me a “Happy Mahashivaratri” as well.

          I can still recall that it was examination time and I was intending to go back to my studies in my room but I could not resist enquiring from him.

“Hey Sanna, I am still Puzzled as to why did you call me for their puja”, somehow I was still sniffing the smoke.

He was smiling and he put his hands across my shoulders and told sheepishly.

“We have to at least be honest with the god and after a lot of discussions we could not think of anyone else but you who was yet to be thoroughly corrupted”, I was just listening to him while he was smiling crookedly. 

         I just could not make out as to whether he was complimenting or just was being sarcastic while going back to my room. In hindsight I could think of only the smiling faces and innocent souls with whom I developed so much of intimacy and which helped me in developing my very different outlook towards the world and towards the life. I can still listen my dear friend Taka speaking to me. 

“I am not little worried about it” pronouncing all its “Ts” as pronounced in “Teeth” when he discovered that he could secure only 2 marks out of 15 in mathematics terminal paper in the second year.

My dear friends from North East! I am so thankful to you all for teaching me the lesson of not being worried about anything in life.