Sunday 31 January 2010

My new passion.

Is there anybody out there?

Here I am... Just born into this new world. All thanks to my daughter
Aanchal, who, along with the rest of my near family (which
includes my hubby and best friend of nearly 29 years. . Rajiv . . My
son and apple of my eye . . Saahil. . My younger daughter Shalu and my
mom . . Have unfailing faith in All of my real and imagined abilities
and strengths. I am truly twice . . Rather. . Five times. . Blessed!
Yes Aanchal. . I Have gotten into the TOI . . And i WILL get this into
the best blogs too.:) love you guys. And keep your eyes opened for
more on this space.
--
Sent from my mobile device
--
Sent from my mobile device

62 years of Freedom

India struggled through various wars of succession and overthrow of dynasty after dynasty before the intrepid British took a hand in the guise of assisting the weak and greedy kings and emperors, and took control of this great nation which has always prided itself in having “Unity in Diversity”. Th invasions of Central Asian kingdoms took their toll-- and the already existing Diversity , increased a hundred-fold! What was left of a dream of a united India, fell to the hands of the self-professed leaders of diverse religions-- the Brahmins, the Mullahs, the Priests. And the most deadly and dangerous of them all-- the Politicians!

The British ruled with a hand of steel, sometimes in a velvet glove, sometimes with the gloves off. When the movement towards attaining independence arose, with committed leaders at the helm of the movement- the division in society spread its wings and resulted in the formation of two main political powers-- the Congress and the Muslim League. What our forefathers thought, or what was their dream or vision of an India 50-60 years hence, will always remain a mystery. The day of Independence dawned at along last, and while waving a fond farewell to the last of our British rulers, we also waved a final goodbye to all hopes of achieving a United India!

Maybe, had our leaders taken a leaf out of the administrative policies of the  age-old  empires of Ashoka or Lodhis, Mughals, etc. --- they would have divided the country into provinces-- according to areas, not languages or religions. We would then have had Eastern,Western, Central, Northern and Southern India. Instead of  Punjabis in Punjab, Haryanavis in Haryana, Bengalis in Bengal, etc etc etc. , there would have been people of all religions, languages, cultures and castes, living in the same geographical areas in harmony and mutual respect and tolerance.

Maybe the psyche of all politicians has been and will always remain to be the same-- total control-- so what if we call it an Anarchy, a Democracy or a Dictatorship?? Their methods remain the same!

Think and see what actually has changed in these glorious six decades plus of breathing  the air of Freedom! Zilch! Nothing!

Today too our chosen leaders are using the very same policy-- Divide & Rule!! The political parties use caste, religion, language and very effectively divide the citizens of our great nation. Their agendas include or rather, base their policies on caste and creed diversities, thus sowing the seeds of dissension, hatred and intolerance, very ably abetted by the religious heads of each religion. We have become experts at pointing the finger of blame at each other, and working in every imaginable way to create a shattered India. And our esteemed leaders are the root cause of this. Many other problems do contribute , like an up-the-gum-tree education system, which serves ti produce 99.99- percenter morons, with no communication skills, and no thought beyond their own personal brilliant careers!

Yes, there is some sense to our existing system. Some committed liberal leaders. But they form just a small handful and cannot do much for bringing understanding and commitment in our citizens towards our society and country as a whole.

Today, the tragedy of our great country is this Divide & Rule Policy. I wonder if we will ever find a solution to this bane of our combined futures. Let us all take a pledge this 63rd Independence Day, to STOP the politicians from dividing us. Let us BAN the parties with caste-based agendas who openly sow the seeds of HATE. Let us think beyond being Brahmins, Scs/ Sts, Gujjars, Jats, Bengalis, Maharashtans, Punjabis, Keralites.Let us try to become what we were all born as --- INDIANS!


-
[This article was published in the Meerut Plus edition of the Times of India.]

The Grand Old Begum of Meerut

Farzana – the daughter of a dancing girl, in Chawri Bazaar in Delhi,a girl of slight stature, fair skin, strong determination,exceptional leadership and great daring.  Flashback to the 1763 AD. A little girl is born to the concubine of Asad Khan in Kotana of Meerut District. Subjected to untold miseries in her early years, a young shining knight in armour, Asad Khan, a nobleman of Persian origin, rode into her life, whisked her away to the Doab region, and made her his second wife. The young wife, driven out of her house by her stepson, after the death of her husband,  lived for some time near Kashmiri Gate and later to the Jama Masjid area.

Here began the sometimes dazzling, sometimes adventurous, always determined – life of the famous ruler of Sardhana, a principality near Meerut. She was none other, than the courageous, politically and diplomatically astute young Begum of Meerut – Zebunissa, Farzana, Joanna, or more popularly- Begum Samroo.

Left alone and abandoned in her early-teens, Farzana met and married a mercenary soldier, Wazlter Reinhardt Sombre (alias Samroo) of Luxembourg, who was then operating in this part of India. It is said that the 45-year old officer of fortune, met her at the red light area, fell for her charms and intelligent mind, and whisked her away with him in his travels from Lucknow to Rohilkhand (near Bareilly), and then to Agra, Deeg and Bharatpur and back to the Doab. Farzana helped him build and lead his army of mercenaries in those times of intrigue and counter-intrigue very capably. Walter Samroo was Governor of Agra at one time too. He died in 1776 and his tomb is still in Agra.

Begum Samroo was courted by many of the European officers, famous among whom was a Frenchman called Le Vassoult and an Irishman named George Thomas. The Begum favoured the Frenchman, and sought to elope with him. The troops mutinied due to the rumour of their “marriage”. The Frenchman on horseback rode ahead of his Begum who was in a palanquin, and as the turbulence cascaded all around them, Farzana heard that her lover had been shot. She stabbed herself, but survived. Her lover, who had in true Romeo and Juliet style, shot himself in the head, did not.

The 4-and-a-half foot tall Begum went back to wearing a turban and leading her troops on horseback in assorted victorious battles, and became so invincible, that she earned the reputation of being a witch that could defeat and capture her enemies just by throwing her cloak on them. The Mughal Emperor, Shah Alam was very impressed with the Begum, and regarded her as his daughter. She had saved Delhi by her negotiation skills, from an invasion by a force of 30,000 Sikhs, under Baghel Singh, in 1783 at Tis Hazari (a name given to their encampment place in Delhi). The Sikhs accepted some monetary gifts and did not enter the city of Delhi, but returned to Punjab. Later, when a blind and feeble Shah Alam was in pursuit of Nafaj Quli Khan, and trying to quell the rebellion begun by him, he found that his own army was reluctant to attack the rebel leader. Seeing this, Begum Samroo attacked the Nafaj with her force of 100 men and some big guns and forced him to surrender. The emperor bestowed special honours upon her in the royal court, declared her his “most beloved daughter”, and confirmed her in her estate at Sardhana.

 During the reign of his son, Akbar Shah, the Begum was gifted the Khas Mahal, the Chudi-walli's haweli (so known because of her nautch girls roots) in Sardhana and the Bhagirath Palace in Chandni Chawk, Delhi, which was connected from Chandni Chowk to the area of the Delhi Railway Station by an avenue of cypress trees. It was here that Beresford, the manager of Delhi Bank,and his family, were killed in the mutiny of 1857. It now houses the State Bank of India. After the palace was completed, Gokul Chand, the Begum's chief munshi, wrote a panegryic after Emperor Akhbar's visit and description of the  mahal with “sweet flowers, whose spring was eternal.” The palace was sold in 1847 to Lala Chunna Mal by David Dyce Sombre.

The Sardhana estate was the subject of dispute with Louis Balthazar alias Nawab Zafasrtyab Khan, the son of her late husband, General Samroo, by his first wife, Badi Bibi. He died of cholera in 1803. His wife, Juliana left their only child, Julie Anna in the Begum's care. Julie Anna married George Alexander Dyce, an illegitimate half-caste son of a Major General. After her death in 1820, Begum Samroo looked after all the children, and adopted one of their sons, called David Ochterlony Dyce as her legal heir and successor. She transferred to him, all her wealthland and the administration of her principality in Sardhana, but all her attempts to have the British accept him as a ruler after her death were of no avail. She built an imposing church in Sardhana, called the Basilica of Our Lady of Graces and is still a place two annual pilgrimages,  in March and November, when thousands of devotees come and offer prayers to th Virgin Mary.

When Begum Samroo died at age 90, in 1836, the British took possession of Sardhana as well as all her other estates, arms and weapons and jewellery.
She was buried very befittingly,  in the premises of the church she built. Her son, David Dyce Sombre (Samroo), died in London in 1851, and his body was brought to Sardhana and buried beside the Begum.

The Begum's palace survives, but the beautiful gardens surrounding it have vanished. One of her palaces is now a college in Sardhana. She died immensely rich. Both in her inheritance (estimated at approximately 55.5 Million Gold Mark in 1923 and 18 Billion Deutsch Mark in 1953), as well as  in her  legacy of beauty, adventure, charm, astuteness and colour. The bloodline of the first Catholic woman ruler of India has perished. But like the description of her mahal in Chandni Chowk, by Emperor Akbar, the spring of her life and the memory of her freshness will live forever. Safely enshrined in the walls of the Basilica she built, and in our minds.


-
[This article was published in the Meerut Plus edition of the Times of India.]

The Forsaken Sex

India is a magical land- the Land of fakirs, rope tricks, snake charmers, the Taj Mahal, hot dusty streets, colourful market places, elephants and busting activity. So decree the millions of tourists who throng the bumpy streets, avidly searching for the unusual and the alien. We, the citizens of this magical land, are pretty much used to all these “delights”! But there are some parts of our land and its culture, that even we shun, abhor and fear.

Humans have, since their inception, or “creation” as the holy-minded would phrase it – have always had little faith in themselves. They have worshiped and exalted all they did not understand and fear. Be it fire, water, thunder, lightening, storms, winds, the sun, moon and stars, natural phenomenons like earthquakes, tornadoes and the like, and “evil spirits”. They have converted these into deities to be worshiped and appeased. In our diverse land, that has divided itself into castes and creeds, there exists a sect that includes itself into the “misunderstood, feared, shunned yet glamorized”.

Their face is their fortune. Their shrill voices, powder-caked cheeks, brightly rouged cheeks, tinkling anklets and kajal-lined eyes, herald the entry of a grotesque parody of womanhood into your street or your home. The male voices shouting expletives, palms meeting outwards in a trademark clap, the threatening lifting of gaudy sarees, preying on the susceptible passer-by for readily given alms– these are not your average beggars. They are the Eunuchs – castrated males, Kinnars or hijras. We see them on our streets and colonies, but have no knowledge of their reasons for have come into existence, and remained so in just one country in the whole world- India.

The word “Eunuch” is derived from the Greek eune (bed) and ekhein (to keep) or “keeper of the bed”. They have been in glorified existence since about the 9th Century BC. These castrated men who dressed in female attire and had the muscles and the brawn of men, were the ideally suited guardians of the royal harems. The concubines and queens of the emperors were “safe” with them. Their practice began in China at the end of the Ming Dynasty, when there were about 70,000 of them. The last well-known eunuch, Sun Yaoting, died in 1996 in China. They were popular in the Assyrian Empire in the court of the Egyptian Pharaohs and in Vietnam in about 600 BC. It is said, that the justification for their employment as high-ranking civil servants was that , since they were incapable of procreation and marriage, they would not be tempted to seize power and begin a new dynasty, the common danger of that era.

Nobody knows whether all of these “third sex” people were born without male organs, or voluntarily converted by self-castration. As a result of a number of high-ranking jobs being available for eunuchs, poor families often converted one of their sons into a eunuch, to get him into the royal palaces and ensure bread and butter for him and his whole family. This is quite in tone with the reasons being poverty-ridden families selling their daughters in to prostitution even today. What is known is, that eunuch-hood was prevalent worldwide across the centuries and spanned various cultures, but has survived only in India.

The ancient Indian Kama Sutra refers to a people of the “third sex” (triteeya prakrati), who can dress either as males or females and perform fellatio on men. Today, Eunuchs in India live in the margins of society, face discrimination and ridicule, and yet find an unwilling  place in the rituals practiced across the country. The birth of a child, marriage in the family, inauguration of a new shop, business, home, are all incomplete without the”blessings” of the hijra. They come in groups, invited or uninvited, dressed in traditional shiny sarees or salvaar-kameez, with gaudy make-up, and dance, sing and gyrate to popular filmy numbers, until appeased by cash and gifts by the family. The curse of the unappeased hijra is feared by people. The ceremony is supposed to bring good luck and fertility to the family.

Less known is the fact that hijras in contemporary India may number about two lakhs today. Either born or self castrated, they remain a people with lack of testosterone and estrogen both. Their bodies take on the characteristics of the post pubertal humans, voices remain rough, but mannerisms become blatantly “feminine”. Most of them are forcibly or voluntarily castrated, and on rare occasions when a eunuch baby is born anywhere, the eunuch tribe take him away to raise “him” as their own.

The hijras in India exist within a complex social system unique to their community. The “operation” of castration is usually performed outdoors and done with pomp and show. The head of each group of hijras is called the “Guru”. The Guru removes the unwanted appendages and various methods are in practice in India. A common method  begins by keeping the “victim” in isolation for a few weeks, and feeding him opium with milk, to dull hid senses. Then while he is in a state of intoxication, an auspicious day is decreed by the Guru and the ritual operation is crudely performed The boy is laid on a wooden block, a cord is ties tightly around his testicles to stop the flow of blood, and he is held down by the group. Then a sharp knife is used to cleanly sever the male organs. The wound is bled for a few hours, signifying the drainage of manhood and the onset of womanhood. A metal or wooden plug is inserted into the wound, to stop full closure and leave an aperture for drainage of urine. Hot oil, herbs, haldi, etc are poured over the area to facilitate healing. In some communities, the process is incomplete until the castrated boy is made to sit on a grinding stone, and made to push down till he bleeds from the anus, thus signifying the first menstruation.

Thereafter, the Guru takes charge of teaching the new member the tricks of the trade. Their society is strictly hierarchical, and the eunuch's life is governed by the rules of his Guru. Hijras in India are broadly divided into seven “Houses”. Each house has a Nayak at its head, with several Gurus under each nayak. The houses in North India have very rigid systems in place, while those of South India are more lax.

The high-point of the hijra communities across the country is the annual festival held on Chitrai Purnima at Koovagam, a place of pilgrimage for the hijras which lies about 200 km south of Chennai. This festival celebrates marriage and subsequent widowhood. It marks the Tamil New Year according to the lunar calendar. The story that was the origin of this unique ceremony is from the Mahabharata. According to it, one of the warriors of the Pandavas, called Aravanan, one of Arjuna's sons, volunteered to go as “suicide bomber”  into the Kauravas camp , to gain tactical edge over them and win the epic war. The boy expressed a wish to marry and consummate his marriage in one night, and sacrifice his life thereafter. This posed a huge problem as no girl was willing to become a widow one day after her nuptials. So, Lord Krishna assumed the female form of “Mohini” and became the “bride” of Aravanan.  This marriage and widowhood is glamorized and worshiped and celebrated with “gay”abandon at this festival every year. Hijras from across the country throng the streets of Koovagam, the marriage and widowhood of their deities are celebrated amidst competitions, fashion shows, singing, dancing and finding new mates after the widowhood has been accepted. Huge crowds gather to thunderously applaud the ramp-gyrating 'models”, and the temple portico sing wedding songs in deep mellow voices.
Inside the temple, the atmosphere is apocalyptic, with the clang of a hundred bells, coconut-smashing, the incense from jasmine agarbattis and tying the sacred thread around the necks of the hijras – depicting the moment of their marriage to Aravanan.

This unique sect has lived, thrived and survived within the rigid, unfriendly fabric of the divided Indian society. They have earned their livelihood with peddling their legendary skills and also their bodies. Althogh there is no clear data about their numbers today, it is estimated that there are about 1.2 million kinnars in India alone. Their “services” in the flesh-trade are cheaper for the poor frustrated youth, hence homosexuality is rampantly practiced within their colonies – for choice and for remunerations. This may have carried on for centuries to come, but fr the landmark judgment by the Delhi High Court this year. The Court repealed Section 377 f the Indian Penal Code,thus decriminalizing consensual sex between consenting adults.”Consenting adults” include those of the same sex. This triggered celebrations within the Gay Communities across the country, and the Kinnar community. The judgment caused some confusion among the semi-literate and illiterate kinnars of Meerut, who do not fully understand its implications, but think that it merely allows kinnar marriages. According to “Mumtaz”, a kinnar of the town, “Main khush hoon. Mujhe pata hai ki court-kutcheri ne hamare liye shaadi karna jayaz kar diya hai. Par ham to isse najayaz kabhi maante hi nahin the.”

Another kinnar of the town, under condition of anonymity, said, “ Hum padhe-likhe nahin hain Madam. Humare log akhbaar nahin padhate. Aur hamen interview dene ki mannayi hai. Mujhe pata hai ki bahut si hamari bahenein gussa hongi. Hamen log waise bhi darr ki nazron se dekhate hain.” With humbly and respectfully folded hands, another of the group said, “Madam ji aap bura na maanen. Magar ham aapki koi madad nahin kar paayenge”.

On informing them about the group of kinnars who moved the High Court on January 20th, seeking their Right to Education, and the petition filed by Sonam Singh, a eunuch from Ajmer, seeking the constitution of a National Kinnar Ayog, a member of the Meerut Kinnar group said, “Hamein iske bare mai zyada nahin pata. Hamari roz-marrah ki zindagi main aisi cheezon ka koi fark nahin padne wala. Yahi hoga, ki kuch press-waaley aayenge, aur hamen pareshaan karenge.”

Interestingly, in February, the apex court dismissed the plea by Ms. Sonam Singh,and directed her to approach the home ministry, where the matter still lies “under consideration”!

Another landmark judgment of the Madhya Pradesh bench has thrown the eunuchs of India into confusion. Its immediate effect was to declare that Ms. Kamla Jaan – a eunuch – did not qualify for mayor of Katni city, as the post was reserved for a “woman”. Ms. Jaan made headlines four years ago, when “she” became India's first eunuch to be elected as mayor of Katni. Subsequently, reel life depicted a similar victory in the famous film,“Welcome to Sajjanpur”.

So where does the threshold of the 21st century leave the desi kinnar? At the very same altar of the shabby patchwork of  our legal, social and political scene. The “badnuma daag” that we ourselves created, fostered and kept alive. All we can do is to understand and accept this “third sex” as part of us, the citizens of free India, without judgment and condemnation. That, above all other measures in our close-minded society, will surely improve their lot.


-
[This article was published in the Meerut Plus edition of the Times of India.]

The Haunting Truth about the Meerut Cantonment

A cold winter evening. Swirling mist... as you walk down the Mall Road in Meerut, head down, shoulders slightly hunched, battling the cold wind as it howls and swishes through the trees lining the road.

If you are a passer-by, out quite by chance, your footsteps will hurry down the shadowy road, your mind focusing on a warm hearth and home. But if you happen to be a member of the elite Wheler Club, you have just that well-deserved glass of wine in the warm bar room taking up your attention. Wheler Club – built in 1863 AD, by Col. Wheler, under the aegis of the Her Majesty, the Queen of all she surveyed. Suddenly, you look over your shoulder.. what was that you just felt? Who was that shadow that flitted across your path? Can you see the smart young officers wearing tail-coats and hats over their eyes? Can you hear the laugh of the lady in the evening gown? That talented artistic genius, that young British Officer, who is sitting quietly in a corner of the bar, observing, and making brilliant sketches of his colleagues . Why are they so faded then, as they adorn the walls of the club? Did you just find yourself in another time and place, a hundred and fifty years back? - The high-domed halls of the club, the white facade, the sprawling gardens, and the clock on the table in the main hall, which was presented by the Duke of Connaught -  are they really here, or also a figment of your imagination?

The Duke of Connaught lived from 1884 – 1886 in the building now occupied by Allahabad Bank . So he must have presented his clock to the club as an inaugural gift.

As you halt mid-stride, you see the dark trees swaying to the cool breeze across the road. You know you are near Gandhi Bagh, also called Company Bagh locally. Ever wondered where the name “Company” came from? - The East India Company, of course! It houses a musical fountain now, and a grand cricket field inside. Walls of prison height surround it now, built by the De fence Estate Office some years ago.

Walk further, and you will see the famous Officer's Mess of the 2nd Lancers.. where the 200th year celebrations are going on.  The Chief of Army Staff and many of the top brass of the Indian Armed Forces are here. It is a grand, warm, well-lit Mess, but has  no windows.. Because they say, Bahadur Shah Zafar was once imprisoned here, and all the windows were hence walled-up.

Lost in your thoughts, you just reached the Meerut Cantonment railway station, which bears the mantle of the legacy of history. It was built in 1869 and is now managed by Northern Railways. There is also the Martyr' Memorial (Shaheed Smarak, as its now called), close to West End Road. It was supposed to have been built in memory of Ashoka, the Great. Your footsteps have reached the Augernath Mandir. Sigh! You are safe! The ghosts of the past seem to have been left behind somewhere.   The comforting clang of the bells shakes away your fears.

Then why did you just imagine the patter of hundreds of horses hooves? And the battle cry of the Indian soldiers led by their prince,as they reach the Kali Paltan Mandir to seek blessings from their deity , ready to ride out on yet another victory procession. The old part of the temple  has an ancient “Shiva Linga”, which is fabled to have risen out of the earth itself!

No, you are definitely not safe from the haunting shadows of the past here too! You quickly retrace your steps, and hurry back. This cantonment of the town was after all established in the early 19th century by the East India Company. Thoughts of the glories of the lives of the British families who lived in this town flit through your mind, and you find you are at the other end of the Mall Road! The tolling of the church bell jerks you into the present ! You walk towards the St. John's Church, carefully avoiding the ancient graveyard, where the moonlight shines on the magnificently sculptured tombs of the nobility and the officers and families of the British Raj, that came, conquered and perished on this fertile land between the Ganga and Yamuna rivers.

The first War of Independence of 1857, cannoned Meerut Cantonment into a fireball of fame. You can see the people dressed in their Sunday best, as they emerge from a service in the church on  10th of May. The icy fingers seem to clutch at your throat.. were those shots you just heard? The Indian sepoys clutching guns running out of the bushes firing blindly! And nary a shot fired inside or outside the church premises on that fateful day! The screams of the ladies and the frightened whimpers of the little boys and girls, as the sepoys of Her Majesty's Army rose in rebellion as one. The oldest church of North India, established by Chaplin Reverend Henry Fisher on behalf of The East India Company in 1819, and completed in 1822 was dedicated to these people by  the Mitred Minstrel (Poet Bishop) Reginald Heber, Bishop of Calcutta. It is said that he travelled all the way from Calcutta on an elephant, and took three months to reach here!   The church that could seat 2,000 people, seems suddenly empty. The scars of the mutiny are here for you to see in your mind's eye. The burial register with the names of all who died here that fateful day, lies carefully and proudly maintained within its walls today.

No, you cannot shake off the ghosts of those that lie buried in history. Not as long as you walk down the Meerut Cantonment. There are too many of them to fight. Just join them, and walk hand-in-hand with them, and re-live the magical history that makes the place what it is!


-

[This article was published in the Meerut Plus edition of the Times of India.]