The Clockwork of Life

Deathbed. The White linen sheets, the smell of the disinfectant in hospital, the feel of my index finger touching the thumb, the continuous beep of some machine near my pillow. Moments in deathbed. Living this aesthetic moment in this epoch of time is indeed bliss. These, i know, are last moments of my human-hood before the 'I' inside me plunges into valley of unknown.

I try to recollect all my good memories in my life, in vain. All I end up, is recollecting images. That flower-vase in the windowsill, that bright wallpaper, that Che Guevara sticker in my motorbike, the solo boat-rides in lake near my house. Then, I try to remember people. The process of imagination then becomes like a giant collage of group photographs. It seemed like everyone else in the collage, except me, had got themselves caught in a big time bubble and hence frozen.

One, they never grew old. Two, their character never changed in my book of life. Strange. Indeed.

I had learnt quite a bit of science in my 65 years on my stay on earth, that I never indulged in any religious practices in the last 40 years of my life. There were religious men and Women, driven by their vedic intolerance towards Atheism, persuading me to follow a cult.

In this moment in deathbed, where the realms of Physics gives way to the Occult labyrinths of Metaphysics, I don't denounce my atheism. I am just a bunch of Cells. And they are going to stop replenishing in few hours. I believe ignorance of Science among masses is a sign of degradation of Civilization to Barbarianism.

I slumber, I hear people speaking, I slumber again. I try to communicate in vain. It is an irony that we still believe in languages for communication.

Every time my eyelid opens after a wink, I feel similar to my first kiss. Every time I move my head, I feel like an axe splitting my spine. It is the dusk as the Life sinks into horizon. The Sailor is going to dock his ship in the harbor.

I am not sure how I look like now. It has been months since I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I am not sure how I smell now. Damp squib of an old man, may be. The Nature still asks me questions, which my system is too tired to answer. The music is all gone in my ears. It is just like feathers of a caged bird. This state of mine is neither a curse nor a Punishment for my sins, It is just nature.

Wars, Famine, Child labor, Racism.. I forgive mankind in my deathbed and give'em one more chance to reform. Let there be light.

"A Post to Remember"

Prasanna was 95 when he died. I had a nice friendship with him. I am 90 years old physically but 25years old mentally. Senility has given me more things than it has taken. I always have this hope towards future though i know that end is near. My first publication was in Ananda vikatan magazine in 1944. I was a young satyagrahi then. I was taken aback by Gandhi. Many young women like me were drawn towards the national movement then, just because of Gandhi. With his principles and methods, he represented a father-like figure for us.

Things apart, I used to have a really nice talk with Prasanna till his death last month. We were walking partners for 10years. Chronic diabetes had made my doctor to prescribe for walks everyday for me. It was then I saw the real senile world.

The world of many old people I met during those walks, were loomed by fear of death. They portray themselves as enacting the last sequence in the drama of life. Soberness, sorrow and desperation always dominated their thoughts and speeches. Well, I am not of that kind. I worked in archeological survey of India for 30 long years. I had traveled places and had excavated lot of sites. I had lived a meaningful life and I am ready to accept death at any moment. So that makes everyday a fun ride.

Among all the walking partners, Prasanna is a different person. He talks about medicines and how herbs are better alternatives to british introduced english medicine. He used to say, before English medicines came to India people used to be treated for thousands of years with natural medicine and it was highly effectual.

It may seem like a mundane talk for all those M-Tv generation people reading my post, but at the age of 80 you hardly can find people talking like this.

Age hood in India brings tremendous amount of respect, but least recognition. The two main things that needs attention in India are Voltage (electricity) and Old age. I had applied to work as a freelance writer in local journal, just to be turned down with a note saying that I am old and I wanted rest. I am not cutting logs or laying roads everyday that I need rest. I am still active in my mind. So is Prasanna and he also had this same complaint towards the worlds view of the aged people.

Well to recount my past.. The 1970s were the toughest years. I worked in ASI office in Delhi. It was in those years that Indira Gandhi had declared emergency and everything was in a state of chaos. But for the elite in Delhi, we always had enough food and enough wine in our casket. But still some mysterious calm was engulfing the air those days.

Then came the dream 80s. and then promising 90s. I am not going to narrate all the incidents in detail and make this post as a look-back on history.

All I want to say is, whatever recaps of the past that you see in news channels, I have lived through it in flesh and blood.

Oh no!! I wept like anything hearing Rajiv's death, I cried like a baby when I got my first Maruti 800 car. I am a citizen of this billion large Republic of India right from its inception.

I am really happy that our young generation of IT engineers are making waves around the world with their intelligence. They say that the Indian economy is one of the strongest in the world and that we are slated to be a super-power soon. I have heard this slogans many times, but this time it seems to be real. I can visually see the changes in the society. It is a good sign. Of all things I had dreamt of, my greatest ambition is to die in a developed India.

But for your information, My grand-daughter is in Houston and my grand-son is in Australia. It is one thing which Prasanna always didn't like and the one topic which we debated about most with hot mug of English tea.

Charlotte Square (Charlottenplatz)

He took the filter and held it in his mouth. Then he unwrapped the pack of tobacco, took a buch of dried tobacco and started rolling it a paper. A small stuck of tobacco fell on the floor.

'Scheiße' he screamed and started rolling furthur. Beside him was the half drunk bottle of the regional beer and some plastic covers. He had a badge on his half torn coat which asked government to give jobs to the Youth.

'Was machst du hier (What are you doing here) ?' he asked me.

'Ich möchte nach schlossplatz gehen. Ich warte für die U-Bahn (I like to go to palace square. I am waiting for metro)' I replied.

With a puff of smoke with which had the mixed smell of beer and rotten food, he said - 'scheiße..Ich frage, was machst du hier im Deutschland? (I asked what you do in Germany) '

'Ich arbeite hier (I work here)' I replied.

The U-Bahn had come and I have to bid adieu. From the window of train, I can still see the gentleman puffing out circles of cigarette smoke in the air.

I was there in the same station on the evening of new years day . It was a cold January evening. Charlottenplatz (Charlotte square) has a honeycomb like train station. Sometimes, you get confused between escalators and elevators on which platform you should go.

I met the same guy in the same place. I quite understood that in the charlottenplatz U-Bahn station he is quite popular. This time he was having a regional zeitung (newspaper) and reading aloud the new year message from the German Chancellor.

This time also he had the same regional beer beside him and same set of plastic covers.

In between his address to the public, he noticed me and came near me.

'Habst du eine Cigaratte? (Do you have a cigarette)' He asked me.

'Entschuldigung! Ich rauche nichts (Excuse me, I dont smoke)' I replied.

He left with a murmur that I cannot withstand German winter without smoking. He went to a person nearby and asked for a cigarette.

Yesterday , when I took a train in Charlottenplatz, he was inside the train. He was overdrunk.

Today evening I had to go to the library again, So went to Charlottenplatz. Took a hot cup of coffee and walked back to Charlottenplatz train station.

He was not there.

As I stood waiting for my U-Bahn, A teenager came and asked me 'Habst du eine Cigaratte?'

I said 'Entschuldigung! Ich rauche nichts'

"Almighty" to "A mighty"

There was giant streak of lightning. After that the sky opened and there was a huge gush of water flowing from the sky. It was not like raindrops but rather like a waterfall. It was pouring as though it wanted to wash away the entire planet. But it didn't reach the ground. It vaporized on the way down. It formed a hazy layer.

Then came the Sun from behind. It was not like the one I have seen. It was so huge and had a very peculiar flaring effect on me. Someone standing near me cried loud to switch off the sun.

Somebody shouted that it has been such a bad idea by government that it decided to open the Sun cover. There were people crying to switch off the Sun.

But the officials there didn't seem to budge. "No way, we want our people to have vitamin-D. It is quintessential" is what they argued.

Last week, I caught a fellow city dweller over coffee. He said his son almost died of UV rays because government decided to switch on the sun.

"Nobody likes Sun here" he said as he left the pantry.

There was again giant waterfall from the skies, this time more damp than the earlier. I longed for breath. I then Inhaled the oxygen capsule which my wife had given last Christmas. With the orgasmic effect due to gush of oxygen, I began to think.

Sun has changed. It is after all a dying star now. Nobody thought it would bulge and become a red giant.

It had engulfed earth some centuries back. Mankind was rescued to this space-planet.

We created artificial rain, artificial everything. We made a lid over this artificial planet to close our view to Sun. We made giant light which burnt from nuclear capsules.

We wholly detest Sun and it is a demon now.

Anyways, I met my Doctor on the way back home today and told him Happy new year 80667 which is going to happen in a few atomic seconds.

After all, we are not going around any stars but we still needed new year for the party and the babes.

Mysuru Odyssey

Can I have a plate of pizza, oh I forgot... Give me drumstick sambar as topping. Well, this is Mysore (lately mysuru) for you. A mix of cultures. People saying distances in 'furlong' units, People wearing jeans and whizzing away in their unicorns. Well, I decided to taste this unique mixture on a holiday, and by coincidence it happened to be a 'holi' day as well.(28-feb-2010)

I always believe that Trains are the best mode of transport invented by mankind. Somehow nature has agreed to include this man-made thing into its coterie. I took the early morning train which leaves Bangalore at 4.50am. To underplay, it needs hundred eyes to capture the splendor that you can cherish with a window seat in a morning train. Green fields leave way to bunch of trees only to come again a few yards later. Its like seeing a soliloquy. I reached mysuru at dot 8.

Odyssey #1: The Mysore palace - Where perfection meets the grandeur

The colonial city was basking in the morning rays when I reached there. The gothic inspired arches of railway station has imperial style written on its mortar.

Just leave the railway station, you catch the Sayyaji Rao road which forms the main artery of Mysore. Dotted with colonial buildings and a typical freshness in air which is so common in Karnataka, It took a walk to city bus stand. On the side, of the road we can catch the glimpse of St.Philomenas church whose outlay makes you think that you are in Scotland.

Then we cross some squares, and then we see the Persian inspired bulbous domes of Mysore palace emerging out of thin air. The palace in itself has a rebirth.

The earlier palace used to be a column and beam structure made of wood (available in plenty in this part of Karnataka) which got razed because of kitchen fire during the marriage ceremony of one of a Wodeyar princess in 1897. (A side story here is, in the same year 1897 an outbreak of bubonic plague killed half the city`s population). The royal Mysore king took no time in deciding to reconstruct the new palace, this time more lavish and more fire-proof!

So fire-proof was the design that the Maharajah ordered to make the main pillars of the 'marriage pavilion' in cast iron!

The electricity came to Mysore in 1906, much before the palace construction was completed. So one can see those vintage fans and lifts traversing the rooms whose style is a mix of saracenic, native-indian and european. It makes no compromise with the use of ivory, teak wood and glass-works. And in every direction we see, our eyes always end up in the royal insignia (double headed hawk). Every corner is blended to perfection and it was not so difficult that I started drawing parallels with the city palace in Jaipur (another masterpiece).

The public hall for audience is huge and overlooks the grand garden. Its arches are islamic and its ceiling paintings are Victorian which carries paintings of Hindu deities. This mixture of diametrically opposite culture is quintessentially Mysore.

Here, I would take a stop to mention about the hall of private audience. Its more exquisite than anything and I am running short of adjectives to describe it.

One needs to see the palace in night on Sunday nights.. Thousands of light smile away the splendor of the palace to the night sky. Its a photographers delight. It cannot get more royal than this.

Odyssey #2: SriRanganatha swamy temple, Srirangapatna - Back to those stone henges

We read a lot of history. Many say that first millennium (1AD - 1000AD) is the most golden of the ages that India has seen. Different parts of India had this so called 'Ram Rajya' at different timelines in first millennia. But we have awfully little sculptures of these glorious days.

Some sculptures though have stood against time and conquests to tell the magnificence of those days. The origins of the Sriranganathaswamy temple in Srirangapatnam can be traced to 9th century AD and I decided to make the tryst with destiny on the dusky february evening.

The river kaveri forms an island in three different places on its course to bay of bengal.

One of them is Srirangapatna. Located 15kms from Mysore, this is one place where history puts a comma in it long narration.

So often this place has gone into the history that the present-day municipality has decided to give it a break by negligence.

As we walk inside the temple, you cannot control to connect yourself to the past. The same steps that you have taken would have been treaded by the Hoysalas and the Rashtrakutas and Vijayanagar kings. The sculptures in the pillars (of pillar & beam structure typical of pre-islamic buildings) are lord Vishnu in various poses and gives a eerie feeling which takes you to distant past.

This along with Shivasamudram and Srirangam forms a holy trinity of Ranganatha swamy where Lord Vishnu poses in a reclining posture on top giant snake after taking elixir from the sea of milk. This tri-rangam forms the core of Vaishnavite belief.

Odyssey #3: Dariya Daulat Bagh, Srirangapatna - The garden of sea of wealth

War is the catalyst for change in history of a nation. The history takes a U-turn in such episodes and brings forth tremendous human characters and their bravery. A fitting example for this is Hyder Ali and his son Tipu Sultan. Their arsenal and men matched the finesse and discipline of British. Even the great French Napoleon (after conquering egypt) dreamt of having an alliance with Tipoo sahib to uproot British from Indian Soil.

"Having occupied and fortified Egypt, we shall send a force of 15,000 men from Suez to India, to join the forces of Tipu-Sahib and drive away the English" Writes a French diplomat from Napoleon times.

The mighty soldiers of Tipu won three main battles against East India company. In the fourth mysore war, the Tipu`s soldiers were outnumbered by Company troops which now included forces from Nizam of hyderabad and Marathas.

Yet, Tipu provided a stiff resistance before falling. The defeat of Tipu in fourth mysore war (called as battle of seringapatnam by British) is one of the major events, along with victory of company-men in Battles of plassey and Buxar, which marks the beginning of company rule in India.

The Tipu sultans summer palace (Dariya Daulat Bagh, now a museum) has a lot of this scenes captured in pictures drawn by the company artist Hickey. The murals in the walls of palace depicts the victory of Tipu over red-uniformed company men.

One thing to notice here is that, Tipu is always depicted in paintings smelling a rose flower which is typically mughal style.

A few kos from the palace is this place called 'Gumbuz' which is mausoleum built by Tipu for his father Hyder Ali. The company soldiers later cremated Tipu too in the same place.

As I told in the beginning of this odyssey, so many times war acts as a catalyst. It creates heroes.

It defies future. The battle of Seringapatnam will surely be remembered for the bravery of Tipu and his men.

On the Gumbuz (on the eastern corner of srirangapatna) now connected by a single town bus which always runs 1/2 hr late, lies the tomb of the person who as a scientist pioneered rocket science and as a scholar wrote poem and basically as a soldier thrusted his sword and made company`s uniform more red. This is Sultan Fateh Ali Tippu (Tipu Sultan) for you.

For more information on how to travel to this places, Please do leave a comment.

So. (A short story)

"Last call for Prasanna.. who is Prasanna out here.?" The loud thud of the voice calmed down hundred whispers. For a moment, There were some faces which showed grief..there were some faces which showed anger... After that brief pause, the faces reconciled and started looking for that soul.

Now, that person in waist coat started yelling.. "Who the hell is Prasanna.? Should I arrange a Merc to bring him in front of me.?"

The faces in the crowd started looking more frantically at each other. No one knows who is Prasanna. But they waited to see him. Sometimes, a victory parade is nice to see even if the defeat is cast upon thy.

"Now.. I am calling off the selection.. The next selection list will be announced after lunch" the waistcoat rumbled a big announcement as the crowd begun to disperse with a ray of hope.

Prasanna was not far away from the place where the action took place. He was sitting in a city park a few yards away. The forenoon sun was frying the park benches. If you can count the dog that was pee-ing in the corner, and some butterflies.. there were hardly any living organisms that moved. The tree, devoid of air, were still like a scene in the canvas. Oh! Forgot.. Prasanna was also still in the park bench.

Suresh came running to Prasanna. "what the heck.. Seeing the sky.? star gazing.? You have lost an opportunity DP" he yelled.

"Ya. I missed it." Prasanna tried to avoid the conversation as he walked away.

"So. what are you going to say to her today.? That you were not able to earn a penny because you were looking for Orion constellation in broad daylight.?" asked Suresh.

"No.. Not Orion.. See here.. Newton circles"

"No wonder.. That you have not yet found a job.. Well, I am trying my luck in the afternoon.. May be I will get my turn in the afternoon and that time I will not be caught star gazing" Suresh left.

---

The door opened after the third knock, the smell of urine of a new born child filled the air. A frail woman was lying in a corner. She was weak and hunger had made her weaker.

"Vinay, From when your mother is sleeping?" asked Prasanna.

The 7 year old Vinay showed a sand-clock.

The frail woman got up now, "Hey Prasanna.. when did you come.? sorry.. I dozed off a little.?"

"Just now.. And again with empty pocket" said Prasanna.

"It okay, I have mortgaged my bangles.." she said.

"No.. You know, I know nothing of construction.. How can I sustain if i take that job.?"

"Its okay DP.. wait for a astrophysics job.."

The yet-to-be named kid started to cry. Prasanna picked the sheet of paper which advertised for 'post third world war' building reconstructions. Half the city of bangalore had to be reconstructed.

"Ok. I am giving it a try tomorrow..Now let me read Feynman"

Jaipur - The beginnings

My name is Ram Singh Gehlot. Jaipur had been a safe haven for us for five generations. Our great forefathers were traders of semi-precious stones. I retired from the Indian Army (Rajputana Rifles regiment) last year. I had never thought life existed beyond Jaipur, for our Maharaj had brought the splendors that the heavens can offer right into our doorsteps.I am coughing now, and years of army rum has given a slight metallic taste to the cough. The reverse process of becoming a civilian from army man is not always simple. There will be high profile parties, more visits to Delhi(hardly five hours from Jaipur) and more wine. What else..?

I find the past more beautiful and prominent, than the present and the future. The city of Jaipur has history written on it walls. Its royal clan has the the valor running in their blood, for how else they would have survived the most tumultuous of invaders with the might of their sword and their mind. I have to do my little bit to Jaipur.It was then i decided to write about Jaipur.

But I had to ask myself about how much I know about my hometown?.

I had visited many of its historical monuments over the years and have taken photos.

As I child, I had gone to see the Jaigarh fort in Amber. There, I had stood near the largest cannon in Asia. Those days, photography is only for firangees.

Later, After my marriage I had visited the Amber palace sometimes. By then, I had bought a canon model F1n camera (with power winder). We clicked a few snaps Jodily. Later my job took me to different parts of India and landed me finally back to Jaipur couple of years back.

Now, I have a lot of time for reading. Its one thing that keeps me going to forget the loneliness that my wife`s departure had brought. I socialize so little, as i always say it too difficult to become a civilian back again. Rather I find solace in visiting the past.

The next day I took my contessa classic car for service to some second hand repair shop near sindhi camp. I had to cross the walled city of old Jaipur at two places to reach there. I had got up early and whizzed past the old pink city. The red sandstone walls stood ablaze in the morning sun. My car flunked on the Tripolia bazaar and refused to start. The bonnet let out fumes of vapour from it sides. I opened the bonnet and let some hawa to enter. Somewhere do

wn the road is a structure known for its forced circulation of air, the Hawa Mahal. But my cars cooling system seemed to have given up.

As I was sipping a tea to cool myself as the car cools itself down, I saw a an elephant driven towards the direction of Amber town in a truck. It would have completed it regular service unlike my Contessa.

A day later, I decided to drive towards Amber with my loyal palanquin called as Contessa classic (1980 model) which churns out 39 horses power and gives a maximum speed of 30kmph.

It would have been the beginning days of Jaipur, Sawai Jai Singh I formed the new city of Jaipur on the foothills of the ancestral town of Amber. I had always loved to visit the town of Amber which is around 15 mins drive from Jaipur. In my contessa, it took more than an hour. The carburettor breathed heavily as it neared the Amber. With a lot of ooomph-imphhh I reached the foothill of the mountains which house the Amber palace, Jaigarh and Nahargarh forts. Understanding this place is important to know about what made our kings so strong.

For this we have to go back a little, to the humble beginnings of Kachchwaha clan of Rajputs.

Amber had been the seat of power for the Kachchwaha clan of Rajputs (Jaipur Rajputs) right from the 11th century when the procured the state from the meena tribesmen.

Once our kings were the most powerful among the Rajputs, but fate had made us to be defeated by the moghuls.

Our Kings served as distinguished governors and generals for the imperial mughal empire. Mirza Raja Man Singh served as governor of Bengal under Akbar. Later when he was deputed to tackle the troubling tribesmen in Afghan by Akbar, Man Singh secretly learnt the science of making cannon. He then made a cannon foundry in Jaigarh fort in Amber.

Mirza Raja Man Singh was a loyal general to Akbar and was connected to him through a marital alliance. His later days were not so smooth as Jahangir badshah had a bitter relation with him.

At the top of the Jaigarh fort , I saw the five coloured Jaipur flag fluttering in the breeze. The five colours are from the flags of the five troubling tribesmen in Kabul whom Man Singh I tackled.

As I finally parked my car, I decided to take a more reliable form of travel to reach the Amber palace in the top - Well, How about an elephant ride.?