FALL

FALL


Meditating upon the further possible ways of taking his character to a height of sublimity which has been a hall mark of our age long tradition of saints and sages, Pundit Ganpat Shastri climbed a few moves higher on the tree and leaned with the support of a branch to break a datoon(an indigenous thing for cleaning teeth). His downwards turned eyes fell upon her cleavage as that girl was sweeping dead leaves and an intoxicating charm, her sensuous youth vaporized by the heat of his gaze, overpowered him. “How unfortunate that such a great man got this ill fate", said a man as Pundit Shashtri's wife was turning into white clothes and others were weeping and thumping their chests.

SHIVLINGAM

“I was going to paikhana, you know, when I saw it. First, I thought it to some trick by some one. I left my lota there, In the field, and came near it.”
Suddenly another of the enthusiastic crowd there broke into and hijacked the narrative. “he was trying to move the stone. I was just in the middle of my business when I saw him bent upon something and trying to pull something out. I thought it was some hidden gold pitcher( he flashed his teeth for some time with a coughing laughter and all responded to this sense of humor with a bored curiosity). I just threw the water in hurry and ran, wrapping my dhoti on the way.” “Hey did you wash your hole, did not you?” a laughter put some embarrassment on his face but soon he back in his spirit. “I saw him fighting with a stone and I realized. It was god and that fool was trying to move him.” “But I think he did not know that it was god”, someone interrupted. “See! Dear bro it’s a matter of common sense. Where did this stone suddenly come from? And you can see that it is not just put there. It is still half buried. It means, quite clearly, that god has appeared by breaking the earth.” A voice, slightly louder than the one who was holding the center of talk, suddenly captured all the ears. “I knew this beforehand. Last week, on the same day, god came in my dream. He was talking about the evils spreading in this world. Haven’t you heard about kalki avatar? It is that time. Anyone who knows…”
“Oh! Baba knows everything, doesn’t he? Last week Lakhia’s cow was missing. He came to baba. Baba asked him to offer hundred rupees to god. When Lakhia was returning after making the offering karia told him that his cow was at Hareshwar babu’s dyodhi. Poor lakhia went there running. His cow was tied and some one was milking her. His cow was caught grazing in Hari babu’s field. Bags full of abuses and five hundred rupees fine got him his cow back.. next morning lakhia milked his cow and found Baba waiting at his hut’s door. Half of the milk came to Baba’s lota.” Those three boys were telling the story in turns without changing the narration. And while one was busy in story telling the rest busied themselves in laughing. “All vampanthi(leftists would be an incomplete translation). Look at their faces. Sons of kaliyug. Sick with brain fever and say they are modern. Why don’t ask your father when he comes to temple. Why…” Baba kept shouting and yelling and even abusing and they kept laughing . “All left and modern and dark age and whatelse heretics”. Baba was still shouting . And his dream was suspended in air which was trapped inside his belly and suddenly it refused to be held back. A big roar made its way into the public notice and two sense organs perceived it simultaneously. They closed their nose and started laughing but remained civil enough to stand there, listening Baba with great care. But this strangely self articulated revelation reminded baba that his lota was still filled with water and the task of morning ritual was not accomplished. He waved everyone away, took his lota and ran towards the nrearest orchard which could hide him from the increasing number of eyes without losing the sight of that place. “ fools! Cant come after some time. Don’t care about ….aaaaah. Baba felt relieved after discharging some nightlong waste with some sound effect. Crowd was increasing . Baba was getting impatient with this nature-call that was keeping him away from that place. And dream was also not fully told to the public present there. He felt irritated with his larger and smaller and any other intestine. he was having constipation. Really a bad thing. New oils in market have no purity left. Once he used to eat kilos of rice and all sorts of vegetables and fried stuffs and was hungry again by the time his hand was dried enough to receive the gifts from his client. But those were happy days when dharma ruled the world. Now everyone is kaliyuga’s son. How heretic that Raghu babu’s son was speaking. They spend a few years in colleges and cities and think that they know everything. Value nobody else. I must talk to his father. Yesterday I saw that idiot walking with a chamar’s son. Really, kaliyuga is showing its colour. Religion is getting corrupted. No body cares a bit about his caste. Suppose we were fools. Baba turned the lota on his butt and moved his left hand’s fingers quickly to ensure that he was properly washed. He rushed to the spot, wrapping his dhoti around his waist, where things had changed like anything.
Vermilion mark was put on the stone god, a woman was plastering the ground with cow dung, and some women were ready with flowers. Yashoda babu was standing there, instructing some young men to cut some bamboos and make a barrier around that place. Domu, who had taken that piece of land on batai, was standing there with oxen, waiting for them to go away so that he could till the land. His four years old son was holding the ropes when he went to see what the case was. “stay away!” a young man stopped him when he neared a bamboo line. It was a holy place now and Domu was an untouchable. Domu looked at Yashoda babu who was also standing there. He was quite busy, instructing everyone for this or that. He called Domu, when he was turning away, to stop. Domu sent his son back with oxen and stayed there to put some soil at the root of bamboos, which were put there to guard the stone god from dogs and animals and… untouchables. People had started pouring there with all sorts of offering and further bamboos were needed to arrange the crowed properly. Baba had come after making himself pure in the nearby pond. He did not go even go back to his home for breakfast. It was an urgent duty and he could not fail here. The bamboo border had an entry point which had a barrier as well. It was lifted, officially, by a young man to let Baba in. and then it lifted permanently for all the visitors. It would be more proper to call them devotees. Domu was making some more bamboo poles and bamboo walls and bamboo sticks(to control the crowd when it tried to break the queue and also to keep the dogs and unwanted and impure humans away) while his body was sweating like a fountain. It was a June morning and the sun was climbing up in the sky. Four or five separate pieces of red cloth were put there on which devotees put the tokens of their faith. As god is all loving and all encompassing, all sorts of gifts were accepted.some gifts made Baba’s eyes shine brighter but, then, scriptures say that different gifts please god in different degrees. But, anyway, all things are welcome if you have devotion. Baba was quite absorbed in putting the stamp of divine blessing on every forehead. If Just the random glances directed towards the offerings are excluded.
A totally confused face was running around the whole scene, trying to find something. He also had a donkey with him. the human wall surrounding the tree looked impenetrable for his struggling eyes. He tried hard. He could go approach any nearer with his ass. He requested Domu to hold the rope for some moment. An irritated face was a disappointing one for that donkey man. But he pleaded with tone of a needy. An explanation was demanded and Donkeyman got even more confused. Answer was must but how to put. Finally he answered it with another query “what is going on here?” Domu gave a wearied smile “ another god has come. They say he will relieve the world from all worries. Worries…” Domu held the rope while his eyes were fixed on some unknown point in the space.
He was struggling to make his way through that wall. Suddenly someone pulled him back and put in a queue. “Don’t you see all are coming in line. From where these donkeys pouring in! difficult to manage. Its getting upon my …” Donkeyman had moved forward and the voice gradually faded in his ears. Barrier was in front of him. a lady had entered inside and was rubbing her head before that stone. Donkeyman was trying to confirm if it was his. it was round like his. but he could not understand the mystery. What was special with his stone? He moved to lift the barrier. but he could not. “ give your offering …give it…where are you rushing to….” Several voices came to dumb him for sometime and he was fixed like a stone. One guy was holding the barrier bamboo, thre or four were surrounding him and all the eyes were staring at him. he looked scared for a moment. His hand was empty. Nothing to offer. “what is he doing there then?” many were standing, waiting for the divine grace that was to come with the moment of Darshan. Is he stone? Why does not he move? Has he given his offering? Has he…? Has he?
Donkeyman found the bamboos not comforting anyway when he was pushed by some divinely inspired devotee who had got a bag full of some thing and something. He tried to steady himself. A relieved look spread on… others faces. No nonsense. Beggars haunting gods place. Standing like stone when everyone is in hurry. “ pray god to get a good job for my son.” The man lowered his head from its extraordinary height before the god and baba gave him some sacred ash to rub some to send for his son.. and he requested Baba to this special request from god. Brahmins are better heard by god. And Baba was special even among the Brahmins. He was Baba. Donkeyman had probably hit his head against some bamboo. It was bleeding. All ears turned in shock. All eyes turned with wonder. All minds rushed in disbelief. What is this?
“this is my stone. My donkey dropped it here and ran away. ..” Donkeyman was shouting breathlessly. Surely he is out of mind now! Is he mad! “ I bought it for twenty rupees from…” he was carried on four shoulders. A good Ariel ride. Domu was surprised by this sudden shouting. He moved his head. Rope was still in his hand. Probably he felt pity for the poor chap. “ you are fooling …” suddenly his voice vanished. It left no trail. Wonderfully clean. People were again put into order and devotees were back on the track. Domu still held the rope, looking at the body on four shoulders.

“Yes, I also saw it”
“He was with one more person”.

“God punished him.”
“Really. But how dared he!”
“did not you see. We had to carry him away even yesterday noon.”
“I think he was mad. Claiming the god to be his stone. Twenty rupees stone.”


A new cloth was put there as much more devotees of that newly discovered god were expected. News had already traveled a lot. And, then, god is everywhere. Attempted theft made the god even more valuable. Some said he was of parasmani stone. Domu was taking his donkey for a market trip. Compensation for the lost batai. His son was also with him.it was a fresh pile of soil. Domu stood there for a moment. Put a plant on it. “what is this babu?” “ we can not touch nor are allowed tulsi therefore I have put this plant. He died and god knows … stone…” his mumbling became incomprehensible and his son became alarmed. Donkey was going in another direction. Domu got his sense. He knows donkeyman had also lost his donkey for once. But he won’t. He repeated it twice to himself. A faint sound of conch came and his son looked in that direction.” “Babu! How much sweets were there!” Domu silenced him, “those for god”. He knew he was lying.

“I am only doing my dharma. God wished it. He came to my house. That is my reward. What else should one wish?” Yashoda babu was sitting with many of his well wishers which was the whole village now and even some from the neighbouring. “it’s your greatness yahoda babu that you are so humble. Who is ignorant of your spiritual life. Never went to your fields even when you could have been a big farmer. So much land. But give them up gradually. And all for god. We know its no wonder that god has come to your folds.” “what’s use! Never saw the comforts of life. No house which can be called by that name. young daughters, to be married, but nothing for dowry.” His wife poured tea into their cups and all were suddenly silent. No answer. She left…without waiting for any answer. “ I am planning to make a temple there. We will need to collect donations. I think people will help.” all mouths opened to assure him. who can refuse to donate for such a noble cause. Yashoda babu had a receipt book. Already waiting.

“that baba is so greedy. Was demanding almost quarter of the total.” Yashoda babu was smiling. He was thinking. She gave him a bowl of kheer. His whole bulk was comfortably lying on that well arranged bed. He was moving his right hand in the hairy growth on his chest. She was standing with a glass of water. Saw the whole bowl passing through his throat and vanishing. His convex belly reflected no change. A thoughtful satisfaction was on his face. “ you unnerved them. I was also shocked for a moment.” Yashoda babu was caressing her and she was counting to him the things they got that day. He was busy, trying to give her a son. He slipped to side and she turned towards him. “ I proposed to make a temple there. Donations will start coming in a few days. You wont have to worry this much. Coming shivratri I will arrange a grand pooja and fair. It will be regular. I have talked. We will have enough money in a week or so to renovate this house…” his voice was drowning gradually. She arranged her saari to cover herself and slept. She had to wake up early. She saw a dream. The grinding stone at her kitchen changed into god and it was frightening. He was badly hurt and bleeding. She had hurt Him. he said that she nailed him and stoned him. he was bleeding and it was terrible. She wanted his forgiveness. And he granted with smile. It was even more terrifying. His mouth looked like a dark cavern. No shining teeth left. He moved his hand to bless her. She shrieked in terror. He woke up and found her sweating. it was nothing. Both slept again.

Domu brought back good money from the market. His son was very happy. He was given a new shirt pant. His wife loved him more than ever. But he could not lie above her. Something was growing inside him. something stone. He can not have her on the top. Stone was already too heavy. she became afraid. checked and his tool was hard like a stone. But it was cold. Strange.

It was a Bunyan tree. Unbelievable growth. Within one year it was double of Domu. Domu watered him every morning and talked and wept. Children never went near that tree. They said it was haunted. And Domu was possessed. Domu took his donkey and he was cursed. His son played with him. his wife still missed the warmth every night. She stopped checking it. Domu was often seen at the top of that tree in the evening. After finishing his work he went there to rest. He worked as a labourer and was a hard worker. All his masters accepted this. He sat on the top branch. In a distance, temple was growing slowly. A twice in a week haat commenced there. Annual mela. Domu told him everything and they laughed together. People say Domu can ride tree. But he knows he can not tell the truth. They feel sad for a moment and start laughing again. Children see donkeyman at night. Temple is siddha and people come to win their impossible wishes. Yashoda babu tries every night on his wife. Some say she has got a stone in her uterus and no son can grow there. Girls …well they can adjust. Baba knows how to capture a spirit. People often come to him. usually its donkeyman or the god thief. And Baba knows how to control him. offerings are coming but Baba has no material interest. It is for god’s maintenance. A flag dances with the wind, singing the glory of god. People say that this flag is divine and dances even when there is no wind. Gods can do anything. No doubt. That Bunyan is dancing without wind and Domu is convulsing in laughter. He is cursed. Baba tells that he is damned and children avoid him. he carries his son on his shoulder. His wife is worried. Yashoda babu has brought another wife. First wife spends her time mostly in the temple. Yashoda babu keeps trying for a son. Baba has prayed for him and he is hopeful.
A marbel stone is donated by some devotee. His sone got a job. Someone donated a gold ring as he won a case. A stone, black stone, is put at door of the temple. " EPITOME OF SPIRITUALISM, BLESSED BY GOD, MOST DIVINE SON AMONG ALL THE DIVINE SONS, SRI YASHODA BABU'S ..."

DOMU reads this to donkeymanbunyantree and both laugh together.

PART 2

PART 2


And Venus rising from the sea!
And Venus for sure…or…or…
Ain’t it David? The celebrated naked!

Wretched red-light and the honking sea,
Desperate connoisseurs poking eyes out…
And its David, celebrating naked;
David as my common human sense says,
Venus unclad if, is without ‘if’ screwed down.

And approved by my culture, it is David then;
Standing between these ‘to and fro’,
Signaling the sweating civilization to wait;
To wait…to wait and to watch…
Something that was a compulsory choice.

And one among this multitude…
And the vast multitude within that one-
Abhorrence…
Disgust….
Anger…
Shame…
Pity…
Indifference…
And this and that and else.

And at least one admiration.

Still humming the songs of high renaissance,
Enchanted still by newly unraveled ITALY,
And in awe of Vinci and Angelo,
I admired this modern symmetry-
A microcosm opens to macrocosm,
Telling the telling of time untold-
This is David in bone, in flesh.

A well –made skeleton, fit engined,
Packed within its size-cut skin;
Crowned and garlanded with whitening shrubs,
It is the celebration of modern art.
Its hanging …dropping…shrinking vitality,
Vanishing into its pouched potency-
Restoring mankind’s lost innocence.

What a brave new world!
And how little ambitious!
No single Angelo to claim this David?
No art monger to proclaim this art?
No creator wishes acknowledgement?

That’s the beauty of our time;
Or, say the beauty of ‘no time’.

Kudos to us for failing dead Angelo,
In making of this David, part two,
From his 3-D to our modern 4-D.

Fortunate I to witness this modern creation,
And David now signals us to motion,
And bids us for our floral destination.

I am back again to the unraveling of time.
This time I wish it another way.
Preparing for the next surprise exhibition-
A laughing Buddha…
A silent Mahavira…
…or a stripped Draupadi…


SEQUEL 2 IN LIVE MODERN ART GALEERY.
GOOD LUCK! THE BEST IS YET TO COME.



NOTES- one day i saw a person,must be some beggar, whose both legs were rotten and worms were creeping out. it pitiable, it was disgusting, it was revolting.a police man asked some rikshaw puller to carry him awy, to somewhere else. it was nere new delhi railway station.
one evening, when coming back from university, i saw a mad person standing at a redlight, waving his hand like a traffic police. he had no clothes on. different passengers reacted in different ways. i felt some sympahy. i dont know how true it was or is.

"MEN IN RAGS"

Men in rags

One of the best track in the Hollywood sci-fi movies is that of aliens. men in black can not exist without them. you fight against them and they sustain you. it's not a unique irony. one needs to struggle against the threatening periphery in order to retain it's central position. Once occupying the central position, which is sometimes a political accident and sometimes political circumstances, leads to a planned maintenance of the periphery. this often comes to a carnivorous desire where centre sustains upon the deprived development of the rest. Creating an economically, culturally or academically alien populace is a planned move towards the centre hegemony. Imperial structure is replicating itself within the state system and we are supposed to ignore it on the name of nationalism and patriotism. Centre periphery relation is not a linear binary, which could be drawn in clear terms. Even a periphery has its own center and periphery order. From the capital of the country to a local village Panchayat, it is the same story. Every time it has a similarly patterned story of exploitation and a forceful denial of this truth as an ungrateful blame put by some misguided peripheral person. ‘Periphery’ does not come in their vocabulary as it exposes the binary, in terms of power and prosperity sharing relation, which may hurt the sentiments of those who are there with a hopeful patience since the time they got the first promise- the promise of freedom and happiness.
It was probably a Raj Kapoor film, as far I remember, which had this beautifully sung and picturized song :
Rahne ko ghar nahi,
Sone ko bistar nahi,
Apna khuda hai rakhwala,
Usi ne to hai hame pala.
(no home to live,
No bed to sleep,
God is our caretaker,
He has brought us up.) (It is an inadequate translation, by me.)

In the same song, at some point they say, “The whole world is ours”. But it was and it can be in such films only. And it was the time when the socialist ideals of the government were thwarted by a corrupt bureaucracy and wolfish capitalists nexus. Political involvement can not be placed beyond doubt. So many films were manufactured which often ended with a blank and beautiful hope for the starving but responsible citizens. It need not be said that these films were a luxury, meant and made for the new emerging, both in terms of monetary and politically, middle class and the liberal upper class which was constituted of big land lords and old industrialist families. Often these films were nothing more than a eulogy for their self-righteous ego. And even these hopes and promises never moved beyond the silver screen and a big blank occupied the hearts of millions of marginalized and dispossessed. For them India post-1947 was not much different from the earlier regime under which they felt themselves subjugated and oppressed and thought that their resources were plundered by the firangI government. When the euphoria of azadi faded away, they heard the sound of glory, prosperity, and an ages long slogan which could be encapsulated as “ liberty, equality and fraternity.” Assam, Arunachal, Kashmir, Manipur, Mizoram and many such, all stood in admiration of that place which was sending off such delightful words. Some of their own people were already there. Now some more had a desire to go and see that place which was DELHI. They ran, they walked, they swam and, never tired, they came that place which they knew by its words only. They started from one corner and ended at the other. They repeated it vice versa. And many times more. They knew no face nor did anyone recognize their faces. They fell exhausted when a hand came, lifted them and put in a soft bed. They felt it difficult to breathe as the bed was stinking but it was not too bad as very soon all of them fell asleep. In the morning when they woke up, a vast wasteland shocked their sight. Standing on a far spreading garbage heap, they rubbed their eyes repeatedly. It was always the same. They believed that it could not be Delhi. They scolded themselves for such a shameful mistake and started their search for Delhi again. A poet put his imagination on hold for sometime and wrote these lines:
Yadyapi desh swatantra ho gaya, ham kisan mazdoor,
Dilli me hi pooch rahe hain dilli kitni door.
(Though county has got freedom, we tillers and labourers,
In Delhi itself, are asking Delhi is how far.)

Not so funny. But still they make a good show. Now they know and believe that they were in Delhi even then when they believed themselves to be somewhere else and are even now in Delhi. Many more have come to join them. Many of them have died. They know about others who went to other Delhis and got something similar. Nothing has changed. Still they don’t recognize any face, nor are their faces noticed by anyone. They are still waiting to come out of this “they”. Sometimes they deface a wall by writing their names. But it makes no big difference. Just another categorization comes- those who deface the walls and those who don’t. still “they”.

Harmless, harmful all these categorizations worked for sometime but it was improved later as even the apparently harmless had some harmful effects. It was decided on different bases. Morally, economically, in terms of law and order, culturally any many more categories were put and a big list was put. A face or a name may be put in different categories but always identified as some “they”. Treatment also varied from group to group. How near you can go, how distant you should remain, how friendly you can be or how friendly you should be. They were just never told these things. Did they know? They maintain various sorts of grouping, avoid certain places, go to some particular places only, and no more try to be seen or remembered. And now they are blamed for being unseen
And , therefore, treated as non entities which may be harmful at some point of time. Remember, they are always recognized but never acknowledged as such. They are termed outsiders. Outsider of a country, in the country. The age old purpose is gone. It is replaced by other purposes, dreams, and designs. And the frustrations and failures have also changed. One thing is still the same and all know it. Center always keeps and maintains a periphery. An officially unacknowledged but approved or planned policy has continuously worked to ensure that this relation is never broken. Long live these policies and long live our country. All stand clapping, even the different “theys”.

These “men in rags”, in either clothes or morality or culture, are hit political and social tracks. Play any variation, put any figure, it is bound to click. “Men in khadi” and “men in khaki” play the lead roles, only they speak the dialogues and hear as well. “Men in rags” are the peripheral aliens who, sometimes, become or start looking ungrateful or unfaithful or something even more sinister. And the formula works as fine as any “men in black” does in Hollywood or abroad. Box office is still held in the same condition.

LAUGHTER IS DANGEROUS FOR YOUR HEALTH

• A girl hits a boy and cries: how strong like, like some stone. It hurt my hand itself.
• Boy gave an indulgent smile and advised her not to break her hand.
• Girl turned her face. She was also smiling.
. BOY caressed his cheek and made a face.

• Boy: why is it said that women have no brain?
• Girl: because they fool themselves with men.
. boy : and why do they fool themselves with men?
. girl: because they love fooling men.

• One friend: it’s fine now dear. Now do not weep like a woman.
• Another friend: but how? I don’t know how to weep like a man.

beauty and beast

Beauty and Beast
She failed the god that held the world,
Who divided it together
Without letting it fall apart,
And an omniscient fell again
As no word proved enough for her.

It was a commanding beauty,
Standing without a need to stoop,
And a whole world rushing,
Into her gyre of charm;
Even if unwilling.

Crumbled down something,
So far the nature,
As domination and manipulation,
From some long earlier texts,
Striding through ages,
As given to the sexes
The moment they got sexed,
Gendered into plain looking acts,
Something that at a point of time,
Was merely an act of survival.
And she needed it not.

Stood there he who had lost,
What his nature gifted as they say,
Lamenting for not having
Something that he believed was his,
Cursing the age that broke the spell,
That too without his knowing.

A hopeless fall
On the knees,
Bleeding black
But no one sees.

Admiration but not for him;
It came with the wagging tail.
Children clap how happy you see,
Watching the beasts in a jail.

It was dark age,
Things upside down,
as she stood there,
Laughing in her cage.

One cried hopelessly,
One enjoyed this freedom,
Caged she was too,
But she preferred this freedom.

The circus owner ordered,
“keep the lights on”,
And all kept the eyes covered,
Some laughing, some grumbled.

The light was blinding,
But no one saw.
The glass room cabin,
Jerking with laughter
Was hanging above them,
Playing with the keys.

THE NEW LORD WAS LAUGHING.
THE NEW LORD IS LAUGHING.
THE NEW LORD…


Let the clock move.
Let the time change.

suicide

SUICIDE

“Nation is in danger.”
And I sacrificed.
Nation needed my life.

“Humanity is in danger.”
And I sacrificed.
Humanity needed my life.

“God is in danger.”
And I sacrificed.
God needed my life.

I was in danger,
And I wanted to sacrifice.
I needed to end my life
And end the pains of my life.
My starved soul died,
My starving body cries,
A Darkness confounds my vision,
And walls stop my sight.



“He tried to commit suicide.”
A voice whispered to another.
I laughed in my prison cell.
“He has gone mad.”
Another added.

Strange!

is it?

silence.