Kalam after Gandhi

The nation cried after a very long time. It wept when Gandhi left, tears trickled down when Nehru departed and now an avalanche of tears and emotions flowed when Kalam passed away. That mere religion is not at the root of genuine love, respect and emotion is the true learning from this incident that engulfed the nation into sadness.

Today is Guru Punima, the day of reverence to all our teachers and what can be better than to remember the true teachers that this nation had, Gandhi, Nehru and Kalam. Gandhi gave us our greatest gift, the gift of freedom that he snatched from the jaws of the British, armed only with the greatest power on earth, the power of non violence, the power of non submission to what is inherently wrong. Gandhi was also the most powerful man ever to walk on earth for his power was truly personal, the genuine power that emerges from being truthful and one with humanity and this trait alone ensured the submission of the greatest nation of that time to the rightful demands of a very big section of the humanity. And Nehru led this nation in its most difficult times.

Kalam, I met for the first time properly when along with Arunima, my better half we went to his residence to invite him for the annual function of the railway women’s organization. His simplicity was just amazing for we could never have visualized such a big man to be so simple, so down to earth and so humble. Accustomed to the rough ways of those in power and also out of it, we were simply charmed into submission and at that very moment we fell in love with the greatest of human being we had ever met in our lives. He came for the event and conquered forever the hearts of all the railwaymen present for the grandest yet simplest function of their lives.

Kalam, the truest teacher that this nation has ever had showed us the meaning of words like humbleness, humility, commitment, truth, integrity and being true to oneself, the organization and the nation. That these are not mere words from the english vocabulary but have a great inherent meaning and value for the humankind is the biggest learning imparted by the greatest missile man and the finest president ever born in this republic.

He mingled with the differently abled kids on the day of the function as if he were a kid himself and therefore could feel the pain and the joys of being one whom the allmighty has made not like many others. His beaming face, his voice laced with emotion and love and his direct connect with the people, especially the children who are the future simply transports one to a different environment.

And to the men in power and out of it, his life is a subtle message that authority is vested only for the good of people at large, not for self aggrandizement.

His soul left his body while he was teaching at Shillong, a true teacher he was.

Gandhi once said “My life is my message”. Kalam never had to say it, yet his life shall forever remain the most powerful message for the nation after Gandhi.

The final destination!

Nigambodh Ghat is indeed a great leveler and the real final destination. Its holy pyres do not differentiate between the men in power and those shorn of it, super rich and the super poor, brahmin and the shudra, male and female. A visit to its premises therefore does much to cleanse the heart and the brain of thoughts that are not in conformity with the fundamental tenets of humanity, even if only momentarily.  

“Ram naam satya hai, satya hi mukti hain” is always repeated by the men carrying the body for its last rites. The premises of the ghat also reverberate with the sounds of these words. Satya means truth and Ram is the name of the divine hindu god, yet I wonder why this saying is reserved only for the last journey? Is truth not an important and essential pillar during the journey of life itself? Why many of us who generally err on the side of falsity throughout our lives, repeat these words that underline the importance of truth only when one of our close ones leaves for his heavenly abode?

Watching a pyre in full flames is also an exhilarating experience. The final destination of each and every single one of us, the funeral pyre obliterates the very existence of people who considered the world of themselves and for whom till then death was something that happened to others. A view of the pyre has the capacity to bring down to earth even those who regard earthly pleasures as the ultimate goal of life and so it does to me. Power, position and wealth ceases to matter at that very moment and for the next couple of hours till the materialistic world takes over.

Yet life has to go on and so it does.

Amen!

What's in a name!

Haircuts on a Sunday morning are always pleasant affairs. And if the morning is wintery with a bit of chill and a lot of sunshine, the walk to the barber’s can indeed be an exhilarating experience. Besides it also sets the mind racing as experienced by me today.

The first street of importance on the way was the “Nyaya Marg” that made me wonder whether the existence of this street has any relevance to the state of affairs in so far as dispensation of justice in this country is concerned.  The second was the “Satya Marg” or the street of truth. For a nation and its constituents steeped in lies, it appeared to be a travesty of truth in the land of Mahatma, to be naming streets after his biggest quality without really meaning it. The third was the “Niti Marg” or the street of propriety that was also out of sync with the daily happenings in the nation. The fourth was the “Shanti Path” that houses embassies of various nations deeply involved in acts of violence.

And the fifth and the most interesting of them all was the “Vinay Marg” on which lie the houses of many senior bureaucrats who contrary to sentiment conveyed by the name of the street they reside in  lack even basic courtesies in their dealings with the commoners. Even “Satya Sadan” ostensibly the houses of the truthful have many whose integrity apparently is not above board.

Can mere naming of streets inculcate value systems in a society seemingly devoid of it and the mandarins of the nation should indeed be doing much more than that in their half hearted attempts at nation building. The attempts at renaming are however even more blasphemous with Connaught place becoming Rajiv Chowk, Victoria Terminus becoming Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus, Madras becoming Chennai, Bombay becoming Mumbai and Calcutta Kolkatta. What are we aiming to achieve by these exercises I wonder?

Perhaps these are symptoms of a nation aspiring for a feeling of achievement in fancy ceremonies associated with these silly pranks of naming and renaming, pranks that we used to indulge into as children.

Amen!

Inaction Kills!

Inaction kills.

Almost six years of continuous batting on the field, first on the unknown but smooth turf of Bhopal followed by the familiar but undulating turf of Delhi has me thirsting for more. But I am temporarily rested, not to recoup as a matter of design, but more as a matter of policy of the top brass of the railways to clip the wings of whomsoever they perceive as a high flier and maybe a threat to their own mediocre existence.

The two innings separated played on turfs separated by almost eight hundred kilometres had some amazing similarities and some not so amazing differences. What was similar was the level of challenge, the pathetic condition of the terrain handed over to me and the integrity, commitment and capability of my boys. What was different was the complexity of processes, the level of empowerment and trust and the support of the top brass with the delhi turf taking the cake in so far as negativity is concerned. The powers that mattered at Bhopal left no stone unturned in ensuring my success, for the sake of the state of course while the support structure at delhi was virtually non existent with the top brass making its presence felt generally only for finding faults or giving unsolicited advice. Yet, my boys played exceedingly well and what a success it was, even on the delhi turf!

And this further reinforces my belief in the superiority of the people who man the apex levels in the golden service of the nation and those in the railways who man the functional levels, levels that are responsible for keeping the wheels moving.

Why we refuse to accept the ground reality, the truth, knowing fully well that a make believe world cannot be sustained for long. The reality and the basic truth has to be faced some day and therefore why not now? Why is it that the powers that be, refuse to grant basic dignity to all those subservient to them, and would only like to hear the voice of a mediocre or that of a sycophant? Any version other than theirs is normally considered high treason. We have to appreciate that the ivory tower approach suited the british who ruled over subjects of a slave nation, but has no place in a free nation. Perhaps this behaviour is what mediocrity is all about.

It is not physical activity that tires a person, it is physical and mental inactivity that really tires one down. This realization comes only after one is rested after a gruelling long drawn out match.

Amen!