Childhood Diaries – Poppins saved the day

In a letter to his friend in 1887, Lord Acton wrote - "Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely."

There’s no shade of doubt that Lord Acton was entirely spot on with his observation. As a 5^th standard student at Hajo H.S School, I had the taste of power and it did corrupt my young mind too. I was elected as the Class Captain with an overwhelming majority. The election procedure was almost a replica of the General Election, someone had to propose a candidate’s name followed by another supporting the move and there you went to the election fray. Election date was finalized with a day or two spared for the candidates to realign voters in his or her favor. Perhaps our Class Teacher took all those pain to expose us to Indian Electoral system.

As the Captain, my responsibility was to maintain order, cleanliness and ensuring a spotless blackboard with chalk and duster neatly kept aside the table. Also before summer vacation, all the classes used to collect contribution from the students and arranged a tea party with teachers and students. From decoration of the classroom to the menu was decided by the Captain and his team which also sometimes culminated in fight over unequal distribution of sweets and others (in Junior classes). But the most authoritative right of the Captain was to note down the indiscipline acts of the students and report to the Class teacher.

During that time, my sister received all the praise from my parents and Grand Parents for her good mannerism and keeping them informed on my activities. While I was a “Dagabaj” for the Grand Father, his tone immediately mellowed down to call sister.  Perhaps, more of adulation for my sister made the child in me felt a little rebellious towards the girls. The girls were my sworn enemy and it was them with few of the boys, not in my good book, who were asked to carry out all the cleaning activities. Yet, a slender allusion of defiance to my authority was enough to report their names to the Class teacher for some fabricated acts of indiscipline. As things turned out, in one rainy day, when we boys were far outnumbered by the girls, I had a narrow escape from the irate scales the girls were carrying!.

After a few months, opposition to my captaincy grew in numbers with a group of boys too joining the other group and they pressed hard with our class teacher, Sri Bijoy Kumar Das,  for changing the captain.  After a few days, Sir relented and a date was decided. The sudden turn of events made me edgy as losing the election meant, I were sure to experience all those which I was inflicting on others. We were about 18 boys and 15 girls in the section and out of the 18 boys, more than 5-6 were opposing me.

Intuition told me that the group of girls would be very hard to split. But the small dissatisfied splinter group of boys held the key and they alongwith all other boys except few stick-in-the-mud ones, were the most vulnerable to swing on either side.  

In those days, my mother still used the dressing table her father gifted on her wedding. The dressing glass was fitted to a drawer with a lock and key arrangement where mother used to store mundane staff and also sometimes small cash. For more valuable & secretive ones, the drawer had another closet inside. While keeping cash changes, she used to push small notes from outside without opening the lock of the cabinet through the gap between two planks. That day, the sight of a ten rupee note couldn’t miss my probing eyes getting stuck up a little.   I could pull out it after some effort with a safety pin.

I knew the best utility of the ten Rupee note. Poppins candies used to be 50 paisa a roll and I bought 21 of them while going to school on the day of election. The kind shop keeper gave me an extra as my B’day gift. Eventually to avoid any undue alarm, I lied to him that it was my B’day and mother had asked to throw Poppins treat to all my friends in the class.

Things thereafter moved on faster. Candy rolls were displayed to my friends and declared that a party would follow my win . Boys will be always boys ! Those avaricious tongues soon forgot all animosity and voted in block for me and the girls again lost it in a thin margin of 2 or 3 votes.

The guilt of stealing money however kept on haunting me for a long time. I wanted to bare all to my parents, but couldn’t out of fear of getting reprimanded. My father, in particular, held me at high esteem and believed his elder son could do no wrong though mother was often suspicious as ever and kept a policing eye on me. Of course, the guilt feeling kept on reminding me to become a better Captain for the remaining part of the year.

The guilt feel was also a stark reminder that I was no good material for a future Politician. Years after, when opportunities knocked my door, I was fortunate to hear the inner call to ignore the knock.

As time moved on and a few years rolled by, bizarre changes kept on happening to me. The girls whose presence, I could hardly stand suddenly looked irresistible and more so during the occasions like Saraswati Puja in their immaculate dress up. Didn’t know that youth had finally crept into me!

From that time onwards, life was full of endless possibilities till “Mr. Bell rang the bell of alarm”  and my Parents awoke up ! The feral horse was finally domesticated.

You can contact Kamaljit at kamaljitmedhi1975@gmail.com

Five Minutes of Living in Two Different Worlds

I awoke up to extreme discomfort and took a minute or two to shed off the drowsiness to make out that something was utterly wrong with me. I was breathing heavily. The discomfort emanated right from the side where the most precious part of human body works, the beautiful and mischievous heart. I was sweating profusely and hurriedly reached to the AC remote to set the temperature to Hi Cool mode. In a feat of nervousness, remembered an article, I read a few days ago, which said that young people normally suffers massive heart attack, fatal in most cases. I looked at the wall clock. It was 4:15 AM and almost the same time I was born into this world on 21^st Feb, 1975.

I called my wife sleeping with our younger son. Siddhant was down with a bout of viral fever and my wife slept in a separate room with him so that, in the morning I remain fresh at office. I told her to get me admitted to GNRC Hospital immediately as bringing me to our Refinery Hospital may result in loss of precious time.

It had to be the dreaded stroke. It’s a curse of the increasingly sedentary lifestyle and the surrounding looked blurred to me. As my wife stood rooted in shock, confusion and nervousness, memories of the yesteryear’s struggle and aspirations for materialistic pursuit flickered at my mind. Yearning for fast track promotion at my job, meticulous financial planning for future and all these were about to go for a toss. Suddenly I realized, I have not lived life the way I should have for all these years. If only, I would have spent some more time with my children, did go to the evening gym instead of remaining hooked to the phone and restrained my ostentatious eating habit, I would not have seen this day. The thought of wife and the two small kids plunging into turmoil was even more unbearable.

Then all of a sudden, I remembered, Bhupen Hazarika was performing at a Bihu function when he suffered the first stroke. He didn’t make out the  confusion as he failed to sing the songs one after another, he was singing for so many years with gusto.  I remembered, I was worst in Sanskrit and used to get rebuked by Dr Srikanta Sarma Sir at our school.

 नैनं छिन्दन्ति शस्त्राणि नैनं दहति पावकः। न चैनं क्लेदयन्त्यापो न शोषयति मारुतः।।

अच्छेद्योऽयमदाह्योऽयमक्लेद्योऽशोष्य ऐव च। नित्यः सर्वगतः स्थाणुरचलोऽयं सनातनः।।

Weapons can’t pierce, Fire Can’t burn,  
Neither water can wet nor the air can dry

Soul can’t be cut, burnt, decayed or dried
The forces of nature can do no harm

Soul (aatma) is permanent – Bhagavat Gita )

It seemed to be quite OK. I remembered all the words.

I asked my wife to hear me recite another one

केयूरा  न  विभूषयन्ति पुरुषं हारा न  चन्द्रोज्ज्वला

न  स्नानं  न  विलेपनं  न  कुसुमं  नाSलंकृता  मूर्धजा

वाण्येका  समलंकरोति  पुरुषं  या  संस्कृता धार्यते

क्षीयन्ते  खलु  भूषणानि  सततं वाग्भूषणं  भूषणं

(Neither ornaments like Keyura, nor garlands glittering like the moon, neither bathing, nor cosmetics, perfumed oil nor flower embellishes a person. It’s only his cultured tongue, a person adopts, decorates  him. All ornaments wear out, yet the ornament of cultured speech stays forever)

I remember word by word. No, it can never be a Stroke!

But my recitation at the wee hours failed to enthuse my wife.

 “ At this hour, you want me to hear all this ! Don’t you know when you were riding the train at bed, I was awake with the feverish boy. I was about to fall asleep and you called me to hear your Goddamn recitation.  You are crazy…..you need to see a shrink immediately. All along, I have been saying, you are never… never …. a normal human being” 

My wife says I snore like an old train running on steam.

I reached for the Aluminum and Magnesium Hydroxide gel which all of us familiar as Diegene. Gulped a few bottle caps in a hurry. Remembered, previous evening,  I couldn’t open my snacks as flurry of visitors swarmed my office room till Dinner time.

Grh….grh…grh…..grh…….

A big burp followed by one after another two way air outflows and I was feeling better and better.

I said to my wife “ I feel OK now. You may catch some sleep. I need to make a power point presentation for the Departmental review”

All the day’s planning flickered through my mind. The subjects which seemed trivial a few minutes ago with the prospect of a stroke, once more started looking important - Power Point Presentation, choice of colors for the walls of my apartment, planning for upgrading to a Villa, getting the Reliance Jio sim and many more.

And life goes on and on.

You can contact Kamaljit at kamaljitmedhi1975@gmail.com

Ismail Hossein and visit to Barpeta Satra

It was Student Union Election time in Assam Engineering College (AEC) and I was off on a hectic canvassing schedule. In one of the classroom campaigns, replying to a query, I spoke about Ismail Hossein. Till then, I didn’t know him personally though he was made a celebrity by Homen Borgohain’s article on him and his poem – Bigyapan (Advertisement). Incidentally, Ismail Hossein was himself present in that class.

He came to AEC on an UN scholarship for the Degree course on Electronics and Telecommunication Engineering. We soon became good friends though I was much junior to him by age and senior by one year in Engineering. Countless hours, we spent at his residence conversing on myriad of topics and I don’t remember even a single day coming back without his wife entertaining us with sumptuous snacks and tea.

Like all of us, Ismail Hossein has also flaws here and there. I found him to have pre-conceived notion on some issues and at times being judgmental. Most of the time, he is too straight like an arrow and defies the thin line of diplomacy. In those days, he was extremely perturbed for use of obscene themes and wordings by Nilim Kumar. In a series of articles, he came very heavy on Kumar. I had a faintly different perception to the entire episode and published my views in an article in the Sadin, an Assamese weekly . Hossein, perhaps expected me to be little more inconsiderate and didn’t seem to be enthusiastic with my mellowed approach though for an Engineering undergraduate, an article in a popular weekly was something like an important milestone.

For many of our intellectuals, secularism is like the hen laying golden eggs. But, Ismail Hossein has undergone struggle and pain in his life to uphold the values of secularism. Needless to say, I will be the last person to believe him to be communal trying to fragment our society by commenting on Barpeta Satra as some of the so called society guardians are proclaiming today. Hossein continuously face the wrath of the Islamic conservatives as well for his stubbornness on what he believes.  He has been entangled in many controversies and I have never said anything in support or against him. Yet, I know, I shall not do justice to the time I spent with him and his family, if I don’t speak out about the person when his intent on secularism and Assamese society is questioned.

A few months back, I visited Barpeta Satra with my family on the way to Bongaigaon. The visit reminded me to a humorous act I took part in School, conceptualized and directed by me. I played the role of the conservative Satradhikar, in my Grandfather’s Dhoti and Kurta, speaking some outrageous logic for barring entry of  woman inside the Kirtan Ghor. The year was 1989 and a group of woman activists were forcefully stopped from entering inside the Satra. Visiting Barpeta in 2016, I was shocked that Barpeta has refused to change from what it was in 1989. The same medieval attitude persisted when my wife and mother were reminded not to enter inside the Kirtan Ghor. For a moment, I prayed silently from the  main entrance. Pride prevented my wife to peep through the holes in the walls to have glance inside the Kirtan Ghor, as suggested by someone. Inside, It was all pervading darkness trying to encircle the simmering light of the Guru's seat.

However, my mother prayed with all the sincerity to seek forgiveness for the audacity of her son and Daughter in law.

Sankardev, the Noblest and the Greatest son of Assam, must be very miffed at the meanness of some of his idiotic followers who speak against women inside the Satra. Through all His teachings, he spoke about breaking the barrier of ignorance, caste, religion and sectarianism. He defied the traditional wisdom of accepting pre-eminence of someone as his birth right.  

I am sure, Sankardev himself would have no issue in allowing Ismail Hossein or a Christian inside the Barpeta Satra either.

You can contact Kamaljit at kamaljitmedhi1975@gmail.com

FB errupts over a Poet and a poem

It’s been like a volcanic eruption with outburst directed at full throttle. I was not able to get head or tail what was going wrong until I went through a post by my FB friend Zakir. I came to know that the outpour was caused by a mere post on poetry by Sri Nilim Kumar, the noted or controversial Assamese Poet.

In a way, I felt happy that we have still some serious and enthusiastic followers of Assamese Poetry .  We were in Engineering College (92-96)  when Sri Kumar first started writing poems with unfamiliar themes. I remember Sadin (Weekly Magazine) publishing my article on contemporary Assamese Poetry where I wrote for gracious use of symbolism in modern poetry. While I was suave on Sri Kumar, Ismail Hossein’s article was head on and hard hitting.

If my memory doesn't fail me, Bireswar Barua, in an article in an issue of Asam Bani in 1996, compared Nilim Kumar to the American Beat generation. Those who are not familiar with the Beat generation of American Poetry, It was a group of Poets who became extremely popular post World War-II. The generation rode of publicity rage with their work on obscure sexism and bisexual themes.  

I still can’t accept few of the Nilim Kumar’s Poems as decent and digestible. Certainly some Gupta's inner garments has nothing to do to create unprecedented trouble  if it doesn't get dry. (One of the controversial poems of Nilim Kumar). But when he says expressing oneself is not poetry, I am not  totally averse to what he says. Rather, I would like to reshape his words to fit to my belief as- expressing oneself in the form of poetry may not always translate to good poetry.

Of late, we have a large pool of poets and their works hardly measure up to the expectation of the serious readers. To  a reader, bad Poetry is much worse than a bad novel  or a short story.

To me, there is a thin line that distinguishes good poetry from the bad one. First and foremost, it must be simple and vibrate the inner chord of the reader. Simplicity here doesn’t mean staleness. But reading and understanding poetry require some intellect to crack the outer hard shell which the poet creates purposefully to elevate the joy of the reader while relishing on the softer core.

The important matter is expressing oneself gives the divine high to the author and helps relive the relentless creative pain.  So why to worry what Mr. Nilim Kumar thinks about your poem. Let the words flow unhindered.

Coming back to Beat Generation, Sri Nilim Kumar should remember that some people like me still spontaneously quote  few lines from T S Elliot , the harbinger of modernism into English Poetry,  inspite of being unconventional at his time while   Allen Ginsberg,  from the Beat generation, rests peacefully in Google search.

You can contact Kamaljit at kamaljitmedhi1975@gmail.com

Sleepless Night

Once more, a bout of acidity robbed my sleep off till morning. The only awful part of such long night is the call of office in the next morning with the siren about to be wailing at 7: 15 sharp.

My two sons were sleeping peacefully by my side. I kissed their soft cheeks and felt the warmth. The younger one slept with the toy car I had brought for him in the afternoon. The elder must have been dreaming on the book he went through in his kindle, a gift I gave him in his last B’day.

Suddenly, some part of my heart ached and shuddered wishing not to see a day when these two will not see eye to eye, forget about sharing a bed. Have seen many brothers turning bitter foes.

At 41, I can feel the feel of fleeting youth with tinges of white growing all the time in the hair, when the days of playing cricket all day in the scorching sun seems like a dream and of course when I am called a dear uncle so many times.

When I hum few lines of Borgeet in the morning, my wife says I am growing old. But its true, sometimes I feel  many dreams I am chasing everyday, have no real purpose in life.

Death is a truth and no one can defy it. Every pound of our heart  and we are closer to the grave.  Billions of people, higher and mightier had to bite the dust. “Grass covered them all”.

The more I read of Alexander, Napoleon or Adolph Hitler, I feel the helplessness to see them falter at the twist of destiny.

Perhaps I am an escapist! I am too weak to look around and see the reality.

I wished - let this moment, the feel be eternal and time stop for ever ! This life and the world around and our children  are so beautiful, I will not be tired of living a million years too.

Let the morning herald and sunshine drench my mind and body. Let the weakling thoughts go off.

You can contact Kamaljit at kamaljitmedhi1975@gmail.com

Sow the seed of love and peace

The Dhaka incident has shocked the entire world. Its sad but not surprising.

Going to a reputed school doesn't make  a person secular. Seeds of secularism is sowed in an individual  at home by the  parents and the surrounding . Acceptance of diversity doesn't come on its own when  people grow up from childhood on religious overdose and hatred for others.

My faith and my belief , when I look back, has the roots on what I was taught at home. I  rarely observe the rituals and like father, do it sometimes not out of belief but as a couteous gesture. Does that make me a bad element for our society ? Acceptance on what I am is a sign of a matured society. Yes, with my parents, I learned to share sorrow with people irrespective of religion and caste. I didn't enjoy the firecrackers at my place as well the day Indira Gandhi was shot fatally ! I mourned with my family in silence.

People say no religion teaches you hatred. It is entirely wrong. The core of every religion is "follow me or else you go to hell". Religion never accepts pluralism. It teaches its superiority over others. Simply it can't be democratic and thats why too much of religion in every sphere  of our life is what causes fanaticism.

 

Mao Tse Tung said - religion is the poison for the masses. Yes, if not poison, it is certainly the opium for the masses. Opium may have medicinal values when taken in small doses for selective use; but  Overindulgence leads to intoxication and debars people becoming rational.   

That's the reason  You need to be selective with what you pick from your religion.  It happened in Bangladesh and may happen anywhere.

Terrorism is a Frankenstein. We lost two of our Prime Ministers to this dreaded virus. It  destroys  the very hands which nourished it once. It destroys its own people. Examples are all around.

People have circulated the story of a 20 year old brave heart who refused to leave his friends during the Dhaka mayhem. The minute detail of his encounter with the perpetrators of violence is surely imaginary. But the very fact that people are circulating it, shows, people desire number of such noble souls to grow. There lies the hope.

The irony is such incidents break trust and faith. There are many Bangladeshi people who are saddened as much as we are. Read many of their posts expressing shock, disbelief and sometimes helplessness.

The crux of my post is sow the seed of love and peace in your child. Teach him that only diversity and coexistence have made this planet beautiful and you are the chosen one to hold this spirit and pass to the future.

You can contact Kamaljit at kamaljitmedhi1975@gmail.com

Meeting a hero on the streets of Guwahati

I was driving home from office in a pensive mood and failed to timely notice the iron post at one sharp turn. As I whizzed past, the perpetual lover planted a kiss on the cheek of my car leaving behind marks of hard  love bite. While my car was out for touch up, I had to commute at the kindness of my neighbor and local autos.
 

That evening, I boarded into an auto with my wife from the market.  The driver was an elderly gentleman, neatly dressed, burly in stature with trimmed hair in commando fashion. On the way , he hardly talked and so did we as both us soon got engrossed to our smart phones. Reaching home,  he was courteous to immediately pick up the heavy bag my wife was carrying.

After he dropped the bag at its designated place, I thanked him and handed over the fare. He presumed us to be non-Assamese and seeing my nameplate at the gate, asked -

“ So you are Medhi….. where do you come from?

“ I am a native of Hajo. My parents are still staying there” I replied

He enquired if I was related to Late Bishnuram Medhi’s family. His last trip to Hajo for pilgrimage was wonderful.  As the conversation continued, I came to know that he was Singha from Chapar of Goalpara District.

I enquired whether he knew Bhaskar Medhi.

“ Bhaskar Medhi….. ha.. ha.. his father was a teacher too,  I suppose. Much younger to me, Bhaskar was a brilliant chap  and got into IIT” he replied.

Bhaskar Medhi is presently working as Dy General Manager at Indian Oil Refinery HQ. I was now sure that Mr. Singha was from Chapar.

As I complimented him for maintaining good health, I came to know that he retired from BSF as an Inspector. He had nothing much to do at home rather than killing time and so purchased the auto.

“ What about your children ?” I was now curious about Singha.

“ I have one son and a daughter . The boy passed out from NIT, Silchar in Civil Engineering and working for the State Government."
 
" What about your daughter?"

"Oh.. The girl is interested in going to academics. Did her BE in Electrical Engineering from Assam Engineering College. This year she has enrolled for  MTech”

Here is a man, who rides an auto after getting retired from BSF as an Inspector and both his children are Engineers from two reputed Government Engineering Colleges. When we are surrounded with so much of pessimism and crumbling work ethics,   Singha was indeed a ray of hope.

Finally before saying Good Bye, I asked if ever his children said him anything for the auto. Of course, I got the right answer from him for a wrong & irrelevant question

“ My children knows the dignity of labour and honesty”

Perhaps Singha drew inspiration from another Singha, a great son of Assam and his relation -  Sarat Chandra Singha. Once I met this ex Chief Minister of Assam on a crowded city bus and he refused to take the seat I was offering. It was not easy for me to remain seated  by the side of a standing Sarat Singha for long. Late Singha only agreed to occupy my seat as I got down in the next stoppage to avoid further discomfiture. And who can forget seeing Late Lakhyadhar Choudhury  , sporting a big smile, walking with his trademark umbrella !

Life of an aspiring middle class is not easy as aspiration often supersedes the achievements. Yet, if we have time to look around outside our periphery, there are innumerable inspiring, unsung heroes who make life livable.

Perhaps, people need frequent breakdown of their cars, to discover many more Singhas on the streets.

 

You can contact Kamaljit at kamaljitmedhi1975@gmail.com

Kolaguru Bishnu Prasad Rabha - the undying spirit

I am too small to assess a legend of the caliber of Kolaguru Bishnu Prasad Rabha. These are some of my unfussy thoughts and no way intended to demean the great man when I write, the most beautiful bud didn't blosom to its full promises.

My first introduction to  Kolaguru was at my maternal uncle’s house where three portraits used to adore the mud wall beside the uncle’s reading table. One amongst them was of Bishnu Prasad Rabha with Rupkonwar Jyotiprasad and Pandit Nehru being the other two. I was not more than 3 or 4 years old, as I still remember being sometimes in uncle’s short, hanging around my waist like a long skirt!  By the time, a compilation of Rabha’s works was brought home, many esoteric facets of life had started tingling my teenage wits. It was the age of innocent thoughts, mischief and fantasies. I was too young for Rabha’a compilation.

During the turbulent days of late nineties, celebration of Rabha Divas gained momentum in Assam. The Assamese are fond of action, fickle in attitude and their wish at times defies any logic. The idea of curving a sovereign Assam by armed struggle caught the fancy of some and Perhaps, celebration of Rabha Divas without understanding much of Rabha, was another way to show solidarity with the movement. Rabha was a revolutionary and a torchbearer of armed communist movement in Assam. Yet that was only a part of Rabha though and not Rabha in totality.

It is not irreverent to Rabha and his legacy when I say I don’t pursue Rabha’s ideology to uplift the downtroden, as I strongly believe the tenets of communism defies nature. In the history of world, many greats and fallen heroes from Che Guevara to Hugo Chevez, Fiedel Castro to Nicolae Ceaușescu, Stalin to Ho-Chi Minh rose like the glittering sun in the midst of adversities, yet their cherished goal remained a far cry leaving their people poorer, deprived and disadvantaged.

Standing at the end of the half circle of my life’s journey, once more I am going through the compilation of Rabha’s work. My mind has been inundated with the thoughts of two Russian authors and poet- Mayakovsky and Alexander Pushkin. Vladimirovich Mayakovsky was an extremely popular author during the Bolshevik days in Russia and his works proclaimed unstinted support to the Communist movement. Popularity of his books were astounding and during those days, not reading Mayakovsky was regarded as unpatriotic. It is another matter that latter on Mayakovsky became critical of Soviet Russia’s censorship on freedom of speech and many point fingers to this love hate relationship with communism to be the cause of his untimely demise.  Mayakovsky committed suicide in 1930 at the age of only 37.

Once, a group of young Russian students visited Lenin. Vladimir Lenin, himself , was a great statesman and wanted to know about the books and authors the students were fond of. The choice was obvious and It was Mayakovsky all the way. When asked why the students were not reading Alexander Pushkin, treated as one of the greatest romantic era authors from Russia, pat came the reply-

“Pushkin is a bourgeois”  

The greatness of Vladimir Lenin was to advise the students to read Pushkin and others as well. To him, knowledge was never to be masked by meanness of ideology.

Does anybody remember Vladimirovich Mayakovsky today even in Russia! Perhaps a few. But Alexander Pushkin has survived many generations and I was thrilled to see my son going through the Captain’s Daughter. One of Pushkin’s  poems I still remember -

And in the idle darkness comes the bite

Of all the burning serpents of remorse;

Dreams seethe; and fretful infelicities

Are swarming in my over-burdened soul,

And Memory before my wakeful eyes

With noiseless hand unwinds her lengthy scroll

 (Remembrance, Pushkin)

Bishnu Rabha’s songs are few but priceless gems.  Perhaps it will not be an overstatement if I write after Shankar Dev, Rabha was the most gifted personality to have ever born in Assam- a great musician, lyricist, composer, writer, dramatist, actor, dancer, painter, academician, mass leader, researcher and linguist all rolled into one.  It is easy to fall in love with equality when you don’t have anything to lose. But Rabha was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, yet his life had been always a constant wrestle for the exploited mass. He lived life on what he preached.

But Rabha could have become much more than what he became and left behind. He could have become another Van Gogh, a Ludwig van Beethoven or a William Shakespeare. No one knew Assam and genesis of Assamese language better than Rabha.  

Once again remembering Mayakovsky and Pushkin, all I can say is “Biswar Chande Chande” or “ Xuror deulore” will pass the taste of time,  but  can’t foretell on the ones like “ bhang bhang bhang” 

Rabha’s revolutionary trait and impatience did come on the way of his creative pursuits. He had never someone to pacify, someone to mentor him through. Many of his valuable works got lost during his nomadic days. Bihnu Prasad Rabha, the noblest son of Assam, would have been far better off for Assam minus his days as an armed revolutionary. 

It’s a great loss to Assam and Assamese people that the most beautiful bud didn’t blossom to its promises.Yet whatever Rabha achieved, he will remain the lifeline of Assam till the Burha Luit flows.

You can contact Kamaljit at kamaljitmedhi1975@gmail.com

Tango with Dant and Kesh Kanti

As the popular advertisement goes, these days, if you want to meet any of those sizzling Bollywood beauties, all you need to do is to have toothache. She will simply sneak in to your room or appear out of nowhere like an elf to ask you –  Do you have salt in your toothpaste(Kya aapke toothpaste me Namak hain) and hand you over a tube of the latest toothpaste with Salt, Neem, Charcoal and what not.

Colgate Palmolive opened its shop in India way back in 1937 and taught us Indians how dirty and disarray was our oral health without its products. As usual, a country reeling under colonial rule and its hangover post 1947, modern toothpastes gained instant popularity amongst the western educated neo elites. Our ancestors did elaborate research on dental health thousands of years ago at the time when the entire western population was anything but civilized.  The Egyptians used herbal twigs around 5000BC and the inquisitive Chinese produced the first toothbrush around 1500 Century. After 200 years of British rule, it was no wonder that Indians grew slavish attitude and presumed anything from the west to be superior and refined . Even the Americans underwent similar social phase post 1776.   

Is it not weird on the part of the MNCs like Colgates & Levers doing volte-face and  ask  us - Kya aapke toothpaste me Charcoal hain after ridiculing  us for decades  for using traditional Neem, Charcoal or  Salt !

My own Grandmother (Father’s Mother) never used modern toothpaste. All she used was twigs of Neem or other herbs. Every day she would gulp two cloves of raw garlic which kept her heart pumping without any hitch. Before she died at the age of 90 plus, she had still a pair of shining teeth with all 32 intact, excellent hearing and eyesight. Unlike us, she didn’t consume Pepsis and Colas in her lifetime and firmly believed there was someone up there in the heaven to take care of all.

Once, the hallmark of the Yoga centers at different places was the nameplates with photographs of boys and girls doing Yoga in complex posture as if more weird the posture looked, higher was the Center's efficacy. Those photographs were enough for common people like me to keep safe distance from yoga.  It was Baba Ramdev, who used the electronic media to awaken Indians  from deep slumber and popularize Yoga - one of the finest gifts  of ancient India to mankind. He may have been the cynosure of media attention for issues extending from east to west, but it was Baba who taught the nation that simple Anulom Vilom, Bhamree and Sabasana can do wonders to the human body.

A few days back, I was suffering from sensitive tooth syndrome. My dentist informed that old habit of reading newspaper with the toothbrush was the reason for shearing the enamel of few of my wisdom teeth. I am a compulsive net surfer and zeroed on a chemical named Sodium Lauryl Sulfate (SLS) ,  used widely in the modern toothpastes and other body care products from soap to Shampoos. Some of the side effects of this chemical are

·         Irritation of the skin and eyes

·         Organ toxicity

·         Developmental/reproductive toxicity

·         Neurotoxicity, endocrine disruption, ecotoxicology, and biochemical or cellular changes

·         Possible mutations and cancer

I don’t know whether SLS impact on health is a rumor or real. But infertility has been almost an epidemic with the urban population. After having two sons, though I am least bothered about this scourge,  I have bought today two products manufactured by the Patanjali Trust where Baba Ramdev is the driving force - a tube of Dant Kanti and a bottle of Kesh Kanti to replace my Colgate toothpaste and a myriad of Shampoos off from the shelf. First, the price of Patanjali Product is almost one third less than the ones from Colgate and HLL and second, the smell is simply great and refreshing. Even though, I am using Colgate since childhood, I am having nagging problems with my tooth and all the shampoos failed to prevent me from going bald.

So, this time will do Tango with Dant and Kesh Kanti at the cost of Colgate, Pepsodent, L'real and others. Will keep you posted about the outcome of this new alliance.

You can contact Kamaljit at kamaljitmedhi1975@gmail.com

Let's rise above religion

During lunch time, my wife informed  that the boy who topped this year in SEBA's Class 10 comes from a very poor economic background. While both of us were happy at the result of Sarfaraz, as usual, my wife became suddenly worried for the future of our two sons who, she complained, inspite of getting all the facilities, have never been serious at studies. I knew Sarfaraz would bring bad news for Hrishi, the elder one,  after he was back from School.

While we rejoiced with the result of Sarfaraz, the news that followed thereafter were shocking and appalling. Some people will always twist anything and everything in the name of religion.

For the national media, a Muslim boy becoming a state topper from a RSS backed school may be a news, but it's not certainly a surprise in a society where we grew up.

During school days, I used to go for morning walk with an elderly person from our nearby Moriapatty. I called him Borta ( Father's elder brother). Whenever  the dome of Hajo's Hayagreeba Madhav Temple was visible from the road, he asked me to offer sewa (prayer). Abbas Sir used to teach us Hindi . In class, he used to tell me - I studied with your Grand Father, taught your both parents and now I will be teaching you. I still remember his emotional eyes the day he found me in his class in my first day at School.  And how do I forget the advices  of Late Habibur Rahman sir, who taught us in Primary School, before I left home for my first job !

Needless to say, my father too taught many at home and he never considered the religion of his students who came to take lessons from him. Tajnoor and Amjat da are still remembered by parents fondly.

With time, the society where we didn't know the difference of religion has become murkier. The experiences which taught me to be aware of my religion, I will not write here. Those moments, I would love to forget as a bad dream. But still some rational thinking prevails in the Assamese society. Caste and religion still  don't come on the way on choosing our friends.

And that's why , the news of Sarfaraz to me is all about how a bright student fought against all odds to come out with flying colors. Nothing more than that.

Wish Sarfaraz a bright future above religion and May he become an inspiration for many.

You can contact Kamaljit at kamaljitmedhi1975@gmail.com

The Hills are transforming

Having born and spent most of the last forty years in places without the usual  hustle bustle associated with City life, I often get peeved in the midst of a raucous large crowd. Often, I long to be in the midst of tranquility, sunken into deep conversation with my own self. To me, understanding myself is like to long flight to spirituality. 

Last year on 3^rd of July, being our wedding Anniversary,  I was looking for a place to hide from the maddening crowd and also the technologies which never allows you these days to go inaccessible. Our old neighbor at Indian Oil Township, Mahaveer suggested us to stay at a resort in Cherrapunjee in the West Khasi Hills in Laitkynsiew village.  After driving for about 3 hours through the Hills and Valleys, steering the ever playful clouds, finally we reached our destination. It was a small resort with modest amenities, run by a Khasi Lady and her South Indian husband. The place was perfect to celebrate the journey both of us treaded in the last 12 years with a glass of favorite wine. 

Readers may not assume to read a traveler’s diary alone here with a vivid account of the beauties of the Khasi Hills, mist and the clouds though all of them were in plenty in Chohra. By 10 PM, lights are switched off as heavy downpour with thunder is frequent in this area. The famous root bridge is nearby and in the morning, when the clouds moved away, we could see innumerable fountains flowing from the hills. 

So in the morning, my wife and I went out for a long hunt to explore the village keeping the children in the safe custody of their Mahi (Aunt). The ambience reminded us to the evergreen song of  Shree 420 with Raj kapoor and Nargis as Arpana broke into humming – Pyar hua Ikrar Hua... 

Laitkynsiew is a quiet village with all the basic amenities. What keeps the village apart from other Indian Villages was the cleanliness. Every house was painted with beautiful color and those who couldn’t afford, did at least touch up jobs in the walls facing the road. Flowers were blooming in each household and wherever, the kitchen door was open, we could see the spark in the utensils. It seemed the Swach   Bharat Mission had a unique implementation here in Khasi Hills. All of us have heard about Asia’s cleanest village in Mawlynnong which has now turned into a popular tourist spot. But at a distance of 45 KM from Mawlynnong , we could see the same level of cleanliness at Laitkynsiew. 

While coming back, a Maruti Car was waiting at a side of the narrow lane. My wife informed we didn’t need a car. The driver smiled back at us and told – Sister, I am waiting so that my car doesn’t splash rain water and make you dirty.

Last year, I had visited St Anthony’s College, Shillong to deliver a speech on Petroleum Refining. The kind of respect, discipline and hospitality I saw in the students,  I am quite hopeful, that tourism in Meghalaya will blossom with little assistance from the Government in the days to come.  

Back in the resort, I was told that Church has played a major role in enlightening people to preserve nature and cleanliness in Meghalaya. If cleanliness is God, Church has indeed taught people of Khasi Hills to go closer to God. 

Compare this with many Hindu Temples. Lines of beggars and physically challenged persons outside our temples do remind us the hell waiting for of us after death, where Yama’s rule prevails supreme with absolute intolerance. After navigating the feces of birds and animals, when you reach the deity, the feeling of spirituality vanishes into thin air. Needless to talk about the hooliganism of pandas (priest), taste of which I had experienced a number of times.  

If discipline is the essence of life, Hinduism seriously fails to bring it into the lives of millions of its followers though many virtues propagated by Hinduism are unique and universal. 

The NDA Government has completed two years and is in celebration mood. The speed at which the direct cash transfer on LPG was implemented; it is praiseworthy and unparalleled in India’s History. The economy, particularly the banking sector, was in the doldrums and some spikes of development have been visible in both micro and macro economy of the country. But I am also disappointed with the Government and in two major issues. First is its failure to curb the fringe elements which make more noise than what they possess to keep themselves relevant. The other is the failure of Swach Bharat mission. The kind of impetus, the Swach Bharat Mission should have got, has not been assigned so far. This mission can transform the very outlook of India, reducing expenditure on curbing many diseases and bring out sense of discipline to our society.   

Religious institutions play an important role in the lives of the people. We have experienced their reach in our fight to make India Polio free. Being engaged to contribute towards society in a meaningful way, irrespective of religion, caste and creed will only push the broader objective of each religion. Seeing the impact of Church on the cleanliness drive at Laitkynsiew village, it seems, there is every potential of such institutions in propagating the mission and objective of Swach Bharat to every nook and corner of our country.

The same kind of missionary zeal which saw India become Polio free is required to transform India into  a Swach Bharat. The way things are progressing, as of now, it seems a distant reality.