India shining??

Landmark to a friend's place made me to sit-up and ponder. How aware are the young about our country's golden past and the freedom struggle!!!!
The entire anecdote unfolded when I was unable to find the statue of Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru .And I enquired the same with a boy almost 12yrs old. "WHO?" greeted his quizzed face. Patiently I asked him again in a child's language -" Where is Chachaji's statue?” Suddenly a flash of familiarity brightened his expression and he answered in a scholastic tone " Over there, behind the building, stands a statue of a bald uncle. Is that the one you mean?" but I never knew that Nehruji had gone bald. Anyways without another query I walked a few meters more to confirm the newfound info. Lo!! There stood a statue of Ambedkar. That pushed out the final puff of breath left in me. But Thank god!!! He didn't guide me to the nearby Hanumanji's statue. I whispered to myself and to almighty.
I was confused, surprised, and angry all together at once. A torrent of questions showered deep inside me. Didn’t the boy know Ambedkar too? Isn’t he going to school? If not isn’t he missing primary education and we a valuable citizen? But he had already merged with the market crowd, absolutely ignorant that he had misled me. And I felt pity on myself, not to have corrected him.
And as the truth slowly dawned on me on how lucky I am to have received the bounties on earth and also on how much India lags behind in certain arenas, even if the figures showcase a potential power in the making.
As for Gandhiji’s teachings and principles, Munnabhai essayed the role in enlightening the masses. Maybe if it were a Gandhi statue, the boy would have identified correctly. Now who will hold the Munnabhai mantle for the other great personalities who walked our country? Still pondering!!!!

My TRAINing

I got to know what life in the fast lane is once I became another local in the locals of Mumbai. 7:44am- time to run to Thane station for the 7:46am fast. Wow!! What a great crowd, I say to myself not when they wait like thirsty dogs, but when the public touches the fast moving metal box with respect. My 40 minutes of mixed human-jam processing starts. The rush in and the flush out are so meticulously executed that I learned the value of seconds in my watch. People get so evenly distributed that, once if a count is taken, it will be exact in every compartment. Now the concentration shifts to getting a space to stand. Once you know to board the second class, the net sessions are over and you are deemed fit to be a local train passenger. Here I was enlightened on why a square feet of space is so dear and costly in Mumbai. Balancing life on one foot and one hand and sometimes just on a finger of my toe made me dearer to my dear life. In the mad pursuit to acquire a seat the word civic sense remains out of question, yet even the ruthless who never lent a helping hand are forced to help the co-passengers by placing and handing over their bag from the rack. Anyone and everyone are packed airtight as the locals turn a rare locale where no discrimination based on class and creed is entertained. Now I read the amusing advertisements announcing the cure for AIDS with a new drug, and I wonder why they didn’t earn a Nobel.
These days I have even stopped pressing my shirts, as am sure that it's going to be. And who knows!! Years later some folklore will fascinate the world with a tale that the Mumbai locals propelled the invention of wrinkle free dress. The sandwiching crowd that eats away my breakfast calories replaced my morning drills. And if you are like me, not too tall with a frameless specs, then there is nothing much to do than to stand like a buffalo, holding its head out of the water while swimming. Mostly the dancing lobes in the trains are not required for me to hold on. Occasionally as sweat and dirt mouths an awful smell, the ceiling fans and tubes too join the game of hide and seek. But all in between flows the chimes of the hymns and my peace of mind, as ‘Ganpati Bappa’ lends the air a charm inexplicable.100 different poses on how to sleep, 100 different ways of reading a newspaper- these are not books published, but my Mumbai local views. Different languages, different cultures and what not other a mini India is my daily train. Surprises never stop here, as I watch with disheveled hair on my forehead, all the classes merge on arrival, busy as usual, to carry out their individual responsibilities. A remarkable wonder is this mode of travel which gives the proud feeling of victory, on a journey accomplished. I know I had tamed the local, some thing which can never be done in my god’s own country.