The Twins

They were brought home as triplets I guess. I use the word guess, because it could only have been that way. Looking back I have a faint memory of having seen them as triplets, but then I can never be too sure. However the fact is that today they are just two of them and have been so for at least three decades. Somewhere down the ages, I think one of them just called it a day. The twins are an enigma and I thought I should let the world know of their existence. The trouble is that I hardly have any details concerning them for the twins have been in my house for far too long. They precede me in the chronological order. The twins form and integral part of our daily lives. The sad thing however is that they don’t get to see each other unless when they are ceremoniously taken out for a mandatory cleaning. This cleanup happens once in a blue moon for there is absolutely no chance of them ever getting dirty. Thus they lead their individual lives conformed to their privacy and not knowing as to what the other twin is up to. This in a way upsets me, but at the same time I have no other choice for this is the only way in which I can ensure them their longevity.
I wonder as to how many of you would have guessed as to what my twins are. Well they are the two tea spoons, (if I may call them thus, for their scoops are deeper than the regular tea spoons) that are used to measure tea and sugar in the kitchen. The third I guess must have been in the coffee jar. I have no clue of how they made an entry into the house. If my memory is right, I remember my mother saying that they were already there in the kitchen when she came over as a bride. My Dad had an establishment with a cook while still a bachelor and I think the twins must have sneaked in at that point. I wonder if my Dad would be in a position to enlighten me of their origin since their entry must have happened over 55 years ago. Now when I try to recollect as to where my Dad would have been way back then, the instant answer that comes to my mind is Valparai, (a beautiful hill station in the Annamalai’s in Tamil Nadu). It was while he was there that he got married. The twins or rather the triplets may have been a part of his attempt at setting up a kitchen for his beautiful bride. While in Valparai his good friend was also the manager of The Spencer’s Departmental Store and thus my guess would be that he must have made his purchase from the said store. Now Spencer’s is by any standard an upmarket store and may have at that period of time stocked a whole lot of imported merchandise. Thus I deduce that my twins would have come of the supply line from some factory in Preston, Sheffield, Coventry or any of the metal manufacturing hubs of the Britain of the 40’s and 50’s. That makes them the longest serving foreigners in an otherwise traditional Indian kitchen.
I cannot describe these twins, but both of them would have been identical when they were manufactured. Now if you were to ask me as to what metal they are made off, I would definitely be at a loss. For one thing I am sure is that they are not made of the regular stainless steel nor are they made of pure silver. They are made of some alloy that has really stood the passage of time. Age has started showing on them for now they have a yellowish tinge as a result of their external coating having given way. I wonder as to whether electroplating will bring back their original appearance. However I dare not put them through any harsh treatment for fear of what it will do to their otherwise good health. People may say that it is not safe to use metal that is tarnished or without the protective coating, but to us at Sowparnika, we cannot think of a day when they are not around. For they hold the secret to our perfect brew.
Looking back I think it was indeed wonderful an idea to use them in the tea and sugar jars. This way they were not put to the daily grind of washing and scrubbing a process by which even the sturdiest of metals can give way. Had they been used in the day to day cooking process, the wear and tear and the reaction with food too would have bid them an early farewell. Whoever was responsible for their present position, I give them my thanks, for by their deed they have given me the opportunity to know the twins and the privilege of using them for almost all my life.
Today is one of those “Blue Moon Days” when the twins have had their ceremonial cleaning and it is truly a coincidence that I decided to write this piece. For the first time I gave them a thorough look and I was amazed to read with great difficulty as to what was written on them. Embossed on the back of the handle was the word “EVERLASTING”. I thought to myself as to how appropriate the word was. It almost seemed prophetic to me. Then I wondered if any of the present day manufacturers could dare to engrave a similar word. Finally I realised that the twins still have in them many more years of useful service and that they may be there to serve definitely the fourth and may be the fifth generation of the Variyath clan.
PS. Did my Dad make the purchase after reading what was written at the back? If that be the case, I take back my impression that men are hasty shoppers.

The Three Musketeers

South Africa, China, Angkor Wat, Prague and other East European countries, the list was endless and they were doing the rounds during our conversations as well as on cyberspace. It was hard to reach a consensus as each location had its own standing in our scheme of things, with some having been visited by one of us and few others being practically difficult. However, the only consensus was that a destination had to be chosen and that too at the earliest. Looking back I wonder if the destination was ever important, it was the idea that had gained fast momentum ever since it was pronounced by Latha a couple of years ago. What made it a mission possible was the support it received from the spouses and the kids. In our families it was the first time that such a holiday was being planned. That we lived in two different corners of the world just did not matter. Somehow everybody felt that it would take off and was just waiting for the right opportune.
In 2008 when Latha said that it was time we three sisters went on a holiday just by ourselves leaving behind the husbands and children, it was received with so much of thrill. It seemed as if she had thought of something very very novel. It seemed like a revelation, it opened the doors to so much of thinking, planning and discussion. Everyone who heard about it exclaimed as to what a wonderful idea it is. I don’t know of many people who have gone on such vacations but to me it felt that I belonged to a different league, planning something of which those around me were denied. Thus the destinations began doing the rounds, only to be heard and stored in the grey matter. The right opportune just did not seem to happen what with each family having other commitments with the children’s school and work schedules. The seed was however sown and the day dreaming did happen whenever it was given a thought. Two years almost went by when each of the families went on other vacations, biding time for the novel one.
That I would be in the US in the summer of 2010 was a commitment I had made to my niece Preetha way back in 2002. It was the year she would graduate from high school and she had wanted me to be there for her. I had given my word and with God’s grace, I could keep it. What made the graduation sweeter was the fact that she would be pursuing her under graduation at Harvard a revered institution for all and particularly for people from the sub continent. Thus my trip was planned and the dates were finalised. It was at this point that Latha announced that she had to attend a conference in San Antonio, Texas and that we could convert this to our special holiday. Before she could complete the sentence I grabbed at it. Logistically I knew that given our family make up this would be the best we could do. Geetha too gave her go ahead and thus Latha went about doing whatever had to be done to organise the trip. The dates were marked and the wait for a memorable holiday in the midst of a great vacation began.
12th May 2010 our trip began. Latha and I started off from Charleston and Geetha came from Orlando. From the moment we were dropped off at the airport by Preetha and Sridevi our holiday began. That we went back in years is undoubted, but that we could almost get back to our school days when it came to our behaviour was something I never imagined would happen. Right from the two hours wait at the airport before Geetha landed to every other small happening during the course of the four days spent there we were just the daughters of Bhaskara Menon and Leina Bhaskaran. That our combined ages reached a good 150 years (almost) just did not bother us. The only time we touched reality was the very brief phone calls we had with our families. I must at this point say that the families were so supportive that they never hassled us with the usual and mundane daily happenings.
Thus we enjoyed the quaint city of San Antonio, a city which is dominated by its one of a kind River Walk. That San Antonio is the sister city of our very own Chennai, made the city dearer to us. The Alamo a sacred memorial to the Independence War with Spain was treated with veneration. The establishments on the River Walk were visited and every meal was a Tex Mex treat. Thus quesadillas, nachos, burritos, fajitas satiated our epicurean taste buds and the wonderful Margaritas provided that fine tilt necessary to make a holiday from being great to becoming memorable. We went around sightseeing totally on foot. It seemed odd to hire a car as being in a youthful state of mind, the body seemed to act accordingly and thus all the nuts and bolts put up their best behaviour. That we screamed like kids while watching the 4 D movie at the Tower of Americas would be an understatement. The quaint shops of the Vilita Village were visited with so much of enthusiasm and the happening Market Square provided a wonderful treat. The Spanish Governor’s palace was a must see and at the old Cathedral we were the uninvited guest at a Spanish wedding. That one of us even walked around with an open bottle of beer made us feel like young swashbucklers.
We reminisced so much that names of friends and acquaintances of our childhood came flashing back and we even attempted to touch base with some of them. This was made possible thanks to Geetha’s iphone and the various social networking sites. Midnight calls were made to cousins far away only to take them back in time and to spread the happiness of our time together. A lot of time was spent in discussing and planning Dad’s 84th birthday in December. Although Preetha’s graduation was less than a week away, it did not get the pride of place, for we were daughters and siblings and not moms and aunts during those days. That Latha did attend some sessions of the conference was in itself an achievement.
The four days just rolled on and gave us so much of good times. I must say it rejuvenated our souls as well as our bodies. It made us determined that we need to do this more often. By God’s grace the three families get together at regular intervals, but having experienced this, we wanted many more in the same vein. We bid our good byes to Geetha at Atlanta airport (The flight from San Antonio to Atlanta was the first time that the three of us were together on an aircraft) on the 16th of May only to meet up with her on the 21st when she would come to Charleston with family for the graduation. Thus on that happy note we plunged back to “reality and our worlds”.
As a token of the trip I made my most expensive purchase, a pair of D&G sunglasses. It seemed so appropriate a purchase for here was something I would use daily in my sunny Chennai.

A Lesson

Today is the 16th of June and it is 7a.m. I am surprised to see Divya standing at the doorway that connects the kitchen with the work area and chatting up with Narayani waiting for her morning brew. There should be no reason for this element of surprise because this is a ritual that has been happening for the last three to four years. However today is different and if I should go by logic, this is not the place where Divya should be. She should be at home pampered and cajoled by her dear and near ones. Today is a special and a D day in her life. Tomorrow is her marriage and this evening the celebrations start with the mandatory reception.
Basically I am one who does not believe in a big fat marriage, but living in a society, I am pushed with the tide and hence have to give in to a lot of social pressures. However if I were given a choice, I would see to it that when my daughter Sridevi gets married, it will be a simple affair and that there is no element of pomp or show to it. The concession would be to make sure that the day remains special for her. Well those who know Sridevi will certainly vouch that she herself will make sure that she is treated like a princess when the time comes.
Divya is the eldest daughter of my help Kannagi. Kannagi has been with me for the last fifteen years and thus I know Divya for that long a time. I have seen her as a young child and have followed her progress through adolescence and youth. She is still young and going by present standards a bit too early for marriage. I wonder as to how much she is aware of the responsibilities of marriage and life in a joint family. For that matter I wonder what her exposure to the outside world is. Being a bit backward in studies, she was not at all enthusiastic to finish school and thus at the first opportunity decided to stay out and help her Mom perform the household chores. Kannagi, who is literally a single parent, tried her level best to get Divya to attend some kind of vocational training and thus improve herself. She worried that Divya would turn out like her. Although Kannagi is a school dropout, she never compromised when it came to her children’s education.
Divya is entering an important stage of her life, a stage for which most girls from the modern and upwardly mobile families would have planned for far too long. I have had the opportunity to watch at close quarters the preparations of marriage in my friends’ families. It always seemed so long and elaborate. As the years went by marriages became more complex with the introduction of many earlier unheard of functions and obligations. Clothes and jewellery became a style statement and many a time, it did not matter if the style suited the person in question. It seemed as if to maintain one’s status in society certain things had to be done. The brides themselves had their own agenda. Their demands seemed to increase with each passing year and appeasing them was in itself an ordeal. They made it look as if the lack of something small was a matter of life and death. They were treated like fragile Lladro dolls that would just disintegrate at a slightly forceful touch. In a nutshell I would say that being a bride meant that you belonged to an elite group of ethereal beings and every word you uttered was the gospel to be always obeyed.
Here was Divya coming on the eve of her marriage trying to help her Mom with the daily chores. Isn’t Divya entitled to her dreams? Where were her maids in waiting ready to obey her commands? How was Divya different from the other brides? The only difference that came to my mind and eye is the fact that she does not have the wealth to back her. However I don’t see as to how this wealth can help to make a marriage work. With the present trend for divorces being so high, can one’s wealth play the mediator when it comes to consolidating a marriage. My answer to this is that wealth can never play the cupid nor can it have an edge over the less fortunate. I have known of marriages withering in no time in affluent families. Considering all this I wonder as to why people go all out when it comes to spending on a marriage.
Does this make Divya a deprived or a less fortunate bride? My answer to that would be a definite no. Divya has had the final word when it came to her marriage. Mahesh is her childhood sweetheart, someone she has known for nearly a decade. It could be the confidence that she has in herself and in her feelings for him that made her look at her marriage as just any other day of her life. Or it could also be that she was plunging into matrimony with no expectations and illusions and hence may remain unscathed. Whatever the reason for her casual attitude, I hope she will be a winner all the way and wish her the very best. May be there is a lot to learn for most of us from the Divyas of the world. Having said that I feel that we Malayalis need to only look back a few decades when a wedding meant the gathering of both the families during the night and the acceptance of the “Podava” (clothing) by the bride from the groom. There was absolutely nothing ostentatious but the relationship that ensued was rock solid.
Thank you Divya for making me look back and see things in the right perspective.

Break

I will be away from Chennai for the next six weeks. Off to the US to be with my siblings and their families and too also attend my niece's graduation. Will try to keep in touch. Otherwise you can hear from me in June. Enjoy your vacation. Happy holidays!!!

A Sweet Mind Exposed

2 idlis with sambhar – 300, a ripe banana – 90, a glass of milk – 85, a serving of rice – 200, a cheese burger – 400, a gateaux - 250 and thus the list goes on. For every article of food that we consume can be tagged with a number. Now don’t mistake these numbers to be the cost of the said item. Although the price of commodities has rocketed, they are yet to reach this level. These values as some of you would have guessed are the calorific value of that particular food. For most people these numbers may not mean anything as they are simply not aware and can afford to stay ignorant. However for people like me these numbers form an integral part of my life. Without this awareness, I can simply say that my life would be catastrophic. I need to literally calculate and juggle with these numbers if I need to lead a healthy life. The reason for this being the fact that I can only take in a prescribed amount of calories - an amount that is deemed right for a healthy living. There is a definite no-no to the frills which others take for granted. I do not have the ability to produce as and when required the hormone which assists in the metabolism of the glucose present in these foods. This hormone is produced by a group of cells called the Islets of Langerhorn situated in the Pancreas. The hormone is none other than the one and only INSULIN. Yes I am a diabetic and thus the amount of insulin produced is less than what is required for the burning of all the calories I consume. I am forced to restrict myself to foods which are less in calories and at the same time have enough of fibres to give the satiated feel. Like most diabetics, the moment I see a heavy laden table, what comes first to my mind are a whole range of numbers. It is unlikely that I would notice things what others would like the presentation and quality of the preparation.
I think I can call myself a PRO at the juggling game for I have been doing it quite successfully for the last two decades. Yes it is unfortunate that I became a Diabetic early in life, however at that point, I wonder if I gave the condition, the importance it deserved. Even while being a Diabetic ‘green horn”, I had a great advantage on my side. I knew the calorific value of most foods. This was something I had learnt in college by virtue of having done my under graduation in Nutrition and Dietetics. When the course was thrust on me (I say thrust, because my ambitions were elsewhere), little did I realize as to how useful it would come in my later life. I knew exactly that sugars namely glucose was present in almost all foods that we consumed and not just in the additive that gave the sweet taste. Thus I knew that rice and all cereals were rich in sugars and that it had to be consumed in the right quantities. This did not mean that I never indulged for one of my weaknesses is the desserts namely pastries and puddings. However on consumption of the same, the guilt pangs were hard to ignore and this resulted in an extra round of walk or a slight reduction in the next intake of calories. As I mentioned earlier, meals became just calories and the names of foods just ceased to exist.
Many a time I cheated on myself by literally starving on the day before the blood test, for then the fasting sugar value would read the way I wanted it to. On days when the Post Prandial values were to be taken, I made sure that I cut down on my regular breakfast for I did not have the guts to see big numbers. However this technique was short lived, for soon came into my scheme of things the HbA1c test also called the Glycosated Haemoglobin Test. This test shows the average blood sugar value for the past three months and there was no way in which one could manipulate the same. The ideal value is 6 and anything up to 8 is considered decent for a Diabetic. To achieve this hard value, one had to really be good and follow things to the T. It also meant that the management of Diabetes was turning into a number game. The goal was always to achieve a value of 6, and for this goal, one had to just consume “X” calories. A little more was tolerated but a value of more than 8 called for stringent measures and an addition to the prescription cannot be avoided.
When you have Type 1 or Juvenile Diabetes, the only option you have is taking Insulin injections. Depending on the severity of the condition, the dosage and the strength of the Insulin varied. For a Type 2 Diabetic, the category into which I fall, Insulin is not required initially; however there are times in one’s life when Insulin has to be taken (pregnancy being one of it). I was advised a couple of years ago by my doctor to switch over to Insulin. The reason given was that Oral medication takes its toll on the kidney and other organs over a period of time, whereas the Insulin would just merge into the blood stream and do its work without leaving behind any residue. I mulled on this idea for over a year, for I did not want to be bracketed in the Insulin dependant group. However seeing that the magical 6 was way beyond my reach, I decided to succumb. It is well over three months since my initiation and time to take my next HbA1c. Anything up to 7 is welcome, but I have no clue as to what will be in store. Having made far too many trips in the last three months, I have been at the losing end of the number game on more than one occasion. With “X” plus calories in my system, I really wonder as to what the outcome would be.
I have come a long way in my understanding of Diabetes Mellitus. What started of as something that really did not bother me as long as I abstained from sweets and rich foods have progressed into a condition, where I have become my own nurse, technician and dietician all rolled into one. From the condition being a passive one, which can at times be forgotten, it has now become active for when the needle goes through my skin, there is no way I can ignore what I am endowed with. I wonder if the latest discovery namely the Insulin Inhaler will make me revert to the oral medication stage. If that be the case, it will only be the PEN for me.
In the mean time, I continue telling people that I am a sweet person when asked if I need sugar in my tea.

Cornerstone

On reading a news item in the papers, I went back in time to my days in Women’s Christian College, Chennai. It is not that I don’t think of my college otherwise for I am a member of the Alumnae committee and hence am in college ever y month for the meetings. What made me think of college now was the news that young Karun Chandok would be joining one of the F1 teams and would take part in the Formula One racing this year. The very fact that it is Karun Chandok, should have in itself brought about memories of college for his mother Chitra Chandok nee Thiagarajan is my class mate and some one I have known for the last so many years. But what really made me think of college was the way in which I connected the F1 racing to the bygone Sholavaram car races and the enthusiasm and impact the same aroused among the college students.
We grew up at a time when entertainment was bare minimum and opportunities to go out and have some wholesome fun were even more negligible. Apart from Mahabalipuram which was a day trip, there was nowhere nearby to go and thus the Sholavaram races presented the ideal situation for an outing. It goes without saying that many romances blossomed in this venue for the race drivers were a revered lot and the girls would be excited with just a sideways glance from them. I think to the college girls of that era, these drivers ranked high above any South Indian movie star what with the tinsel town being ruled by veterans like MGR and Shivaji.
Thus the two consecutive Mondays in February the buzz in college would be the races and as to whom among the glitterati were present. As such the talk of the races and attending the same were subjects that were taboo in college. It was an event which was off limit for the boarders but however most of them found ways to get out of the college premises. It is said that some of the college staff would attend the races just in order to make note of those boarders who had made their presence. Although nothing really serious came out of being seen, a showdown at the Principal’s office was certain. I have never had the opportunity to go for these races since I did not have any brothers nor was I acquainted with any boys. It required a lot of guts to be seen in the company of boys and at that point of time frankly I lacked that courage.
Sholavaram ruled the roost in the 60’s and 70’s. The participation both in the two and four wheeler categories were immense what with participants coming from all parts of the country and abroad including Sri Lanka and far off England. It was later on in the eighties that Sholavaram was deemed unfit and a new race track was made at Irungattukottai. The shift to the new venue coincided with my departure from India and thus I lost touch with the happenings there. However I am told that the charm which the condemned World War II air field of Sholavaram presented was not to be found in the more aristocratic new venue. You may wonder as to why I have brought in Sholavaram when the news item pertained to Karun Chandok. My reasoning goes on these lines - the three top motor car race drivers that India has so far produced are all off springs of the Sholavaram track.
Narain Karthikeyan is a name to reckon with when it comes to Formula Racing in India. He was the first person from the Indian sub continent to be selected by a Formula 1 team when in 2005 he was part of the Jordan team. Narain Karthikeyan had as his role model his father, a wonderful rally driver and winner of many awards in the seventies at Sholavaram. There is no enthusiast in this sporting field, who has not heard of his uncle Karivardhan whose passion it was to promote Car Racing in India. His premature death was a great loss to the sport. The next racing hero is Karun Chandok who it is said took to the sport like fish to water. How can it be otherwise for both his father and grandfather were veterans of the sport and have played an enormous role in the development of the same in India. It is said that his grandfather was one of the architects of the Sholavaram track. The third in the trinity is young Armaan Ebrahim who is yet to join the F1 league, but I am sure at the rate at which he is achieving, that day will not be far. It is a well known fact that his father was a very popular race driver at Sholavaram, having won many awards and that his father along with his grandfather has played a pivotal role in popularizing the sport in Tamilnadu/India.
Sholavaram is indeed the “Mullasthanam” (cornerstone) for Motor Sports in India and if and when India is ready to host the Formula 1 races, the only venue that can come to my mind is, well you have guessed it right!! This morning the papers say that the czar of F1 sporting namely Bernie Ecclestone has agreed to include India in the racing circuit as early as 2011. The venue is anybody’s guess, however I do sincerely hope that Ecclestone would have heard of Sholavaram and would deem it the right place. With big names like Vijay Mallya owning a F1 team and being in the fray, the stakes are high and thus I wonder what the chances for the World War II airfield would be. Mallya may be the proud owner of a team; however he too has had his initial glories in the rugged circuit of Sholavaram. Wonder if that would in any way tilt the balance. I know the final decision would depend on the economics, for Motor Sports is no different from other sports where the base line is business and the money it can bring in.
Where to hold the F1 may be something on which I cannot have a say, however there is this little something about the Racing Trio which cannot be prised from me. Karun’s mother is my classmate and as for Narain and Ermaan’s aunts, they are my good friends. This sets me wondering if the next prodigy in this sport will also be someone known to me and as to whether he/she will have a lineage to the good old cornerstone - Sholavaram.
P.S. Having called this article Cornerstone, I thought it a coincidence that the sport is controlled by EccleSTONE and that the Circuit in England is called SilverSTONE.

In Search of the Gangaa

“Hontton pe sachchaee rahatee hain, Jahan dil mein safaee rahatee hain,
Hum us desh ke waasee hain, jis desh mein GANGAA bahatee hain”
These lyrics by the Hindi poet Shailendra Chauhan, set to tune by none other than the musical genius duo of Shankar-Jaikishan was immortalized by the voice of Mukesh in the movie Jis Desh mein Gangaa Bahatee Hain. Roughly translated these lines would mean, “Where only truth prevails on the lips and where the heart is pure, we belong to that land and that is the land where the GANGA flows.” The song was a hit as it was meant to be what with Raj Kapoor and Padmini picturising the same. However for a young girl of four/five, this initial stanza of the song apart from the rhythmic tone did not have any impact but she did learn that there is a river Gangaa which flows through India. So even before the girl went to school and learnt her basic lessons, she had got to know an important aspect of the Geography of her land. As the years went by and when she knew a smattering of Hindi, she understood the meaning of the stanza and realized that GANGAA was synonymous with India. Later her knowledge increased and she began to understand what made the GANGA so important to India and its people. She came to know that the river is a boon to the country and that the alluvial soil deposited by the Gangaa and her tributaries contributed to making the Gangetic plain fertile and an agricultural belt. She also learnt that the Gangaa provides the main source of water to a sizable portion of the population and is also instrumental in providing electricity to vast areas. She is indeed a savior to the multitudes of humanity who lived along her banks. The girl learnt that as the Gangaa meandered and flowed into the Bay of Bengal, she along with her tributary the Brahmaputra formed one of the largest estuaries in the world and that she supported the mangroves of the Sunderbans which is the world’s biggest ecosystem and also the home to the Royal Bengal Tiger.
As the years went by and in keeping with her quest for knowledge and things spiritual, the girl who by then had become a woman, came to know of the important pilgrimage centres situated on the banks of the Gangaa, namely Haridwar, Allahabad, Varanasi and Gaya. She also learnt that Gangaa herself is considered a Goddess and that taking a dip in her waters is believed to cleanse the soul. Thus it was formed in her mind that to see and worship the Gangaa would indeed be equivalent to or more than a pilgrimage to the holiest of shrines in India. The first time she chanced on the Gangaa was in Kolkatta where she is in a meeker form and is known as the Hooghly. The trip was not conducive for a close interaction and thus it remained a sight like many others during that stay. The next interaction for the lady was when she went to Varanasi and Allahabad. Now a trip to Varanasi is a double whammy for a Hindu, for not only is the Gangaa omnipresent, but the city is also home to the holiest of Hindu shrines namely that of Kasi Viswanath. A trip to this oldest living city in the world is thus a dream come true for any Hindu. Anxious to see both the temple and the Gangaa at close quarters, the lady reached the banks of the Gangaa on the 31st of January 2010 at around 4 in the evening. The sight of the Gangaa that met her eye was not what she had imagined. She had hoped to see the majestic Gangaa in full flow but was truly disappointed to see a very run down version, what with half the river bed dry and home to cacti like bushes. The stories about the deterioration of the Gangaa that the lady had read and seen in various news media came flashing to her and like the thousands of her country men; she too felt a deep heaviness in her heart. The sad fate of the river was indeed hard to overlook.
In that somber mood, she climbed into the boat and began the much awaited ride. The guide like all guides the world over went on in full flow, at a speed much faster than that of the river. He was keen to exhibit his knowledge and the group on the boat was so naïve that they heard him out in awe. The boat passed by Ghats belonging to or built by rulers from various parts of the country and before long came to the famous Harischandra Ghat. The murmur in the boat came to a standstill for here was one of the two burning Ghats and sure enough there were a couple of bodies being cremated. It is rare for a Hindu woman to witness a pyre and here she was all of a sudden witnessing more than one. As it is considered sacred to have oneself cremated on the Ghats of the GANGAA and the ashes immersed in the river, many people go to Varanasi towards the end of their lives just so that they are cremated there. The stark reality that the scene brought about made the mood totally pensive, and reconfirmed the well known truth of how close life and death are. They are indeed two sides of the same coin. Gangaa was ready to accept the human ashes with dignified poignancy just as she was ready to accept the Arati.
Talking of the Arati to the Gangaa, well, it is one of the most beautiful sights in the world. This is done at dusk and lasts for about forty five minutes. The devotion with which it is performed is beyond comparison and the impression it leaves in one is mind boggling. The lady felt that she won’t be wrong if she stated that witnessing the Arati left a far more lasting impression than the Darshan of the Jyotirlingam of Kasi Viswanath. There is no doubt that a visit to the temple of Kasi Viswanath is in itself a wonderful experience and no words can describe the effect it has on one’s inner self. The fact that the Lingam can be touched and that the devotee could perform the Abhishekams made it extra special. With these once in a lifetime experiences and vivid images that she had gathered in Varanasi, the lady left for Allahabad.
Gangaa at Allahabad is joined by Yamuna and the mythical Saraswathi. The Triveni Sangam is another revered spot for any Hindu and the fact that one could be there is in itself considered sacred. The two visible “mahanadis” seemed to be a shadow of their earlier selves. The lady was truly crestfallen. How could the one billion people allow something that is symbolic of their country to reach such a dismal state? This question kept haunting her and she wondered as to how she could turn the table. Knowing that her generation would have to live with a Gangaa that is totally polluted (atleast in the plains), she decided that she would traverse upstream in the hope of seeing the river in its magnificence.
It won’t be long before she makes a trip to Haridwar and Gangotri in that order for her approach to the Gangaa so far has been in the reverse. Will it be wrong for her to wish that at Gangotri she will come across people with “Hontton pe sachchaee rahatee hain, Jahan dil mein safaee rahatee hain”.