To live and let live

My one-day sojourn at upper Samsing in Dooars two years ago is fraught with memories very pleasant and unusual.We had put up at a 'homestay'-TEMPULA INN-in the residence of Mr.Kamal Giri--a politically influential and affluent person, running a business in drift wood. His home is aesthetically pleasing with pieces of antique furniture and numerous soft toys made by his wife.Apart from their residential quarters there are two well- appointed rooms on the ground floor of their two-storied house and two separate cottages on the adjoining ground.It was a delight having lip-smacking meals at their own dining room, served by the mistress of the house.A great cook herself,Mrs.Giri personally cooked,served and supervised the breakfast,lunch and dinner of the guests....a gesture that exuded warm hospitality. The pleasant afternoon was spent walking in the sprawling compound which ended as if on a precipice which went down to the Murti river.The garden with a huge variety of trees and shrubs could be a botanist's delight.We loved the evening at the balcony of Mr.Giri talking to us over cups of steaming hot tea and crispy pakoras straight from Mrs.Giri's kitchen.Talking to him was enlightening as we could have a peek into the lives of the common people of that region--so very close to my heart.

 Coming to his immediate family we found it to be quite a big one.Along with three sons( two of them adopted) there was an old mother and an even older aunt who suffered from severe dementia, four dogs, numerous cats,scores of  cocks,hens and chicks and  pigeons and a tank full of fish(not to be consumed,for sure)! But more than all this something quite unusual suddenly attracted my eyes.It was a bird's nest jutting out of a corner of the ceiling above the entrance to the  impeccably maintained,spic and span living room.On being asked what it was,the lady,with a disarming smile,said that it was a swallow's nest which existed there long before the ground floor was renovated and thrown open to the tourists.They had taken extra care to keep the nest as it was,without destroying it and plastering that particular corner.What was even more surprising was the fact that they had kept four glass panes open without glass so that the birds wouldn't face any hindrance flying in and out of the nest and the house.The swallows fly off to some unknown destination for five months every year but come back again,without fail.We were witness to the flurry of activities of the swallows--flying out and flying in with twigs and leaves and food for the young ones.I was touched by this apparently 'small' and inconsequential gesture and was left wondering how deeply they have ingrained this bonding with nature.When the world is rent by violence, cruelty and exclusion of every kind,this family stands apart with its philosophy of inclusiveness. 'Live and let live' is the motto they have imbibed and profess through their lifestyle.We city-bred wretched souls who suffocate and run after lifestyle mantras and inner peace may take some lessons in simplicity in life and harmony with nature from this remarkable family.

The Ambarams of Jaisalmer

The camel's name is Michael Jackson.The sole source of sustenance for Ambaram-- the 22year old thin, undernourished boy from Khuri--a desert village in Rajasthan.This village shot into limelight a few years ago as a tourist destination because of its proximity to the desert in Jaisalmer. 'Rezots' have mushroomed in the area offering tourists a full package of the desert.That includes a camel ride to the desert 2-3 kms away to view the sunset, traditional Rajasthani folk song and dance performance, authentic Rajasthani food and an option of a night's stay in the resorts.Hordes of tourists throng the specified area of the desert late in the afternoon and the mood seems to be one of carnival.Ambaram also makes a few bucks in the tourist season.But this period is woefully short to sustain a family for a whole year.Yes,Ambaram had married at 19 and has a seven-month old daughter.There is no cultivation ,no crop as there is no water in that terribly arid region.The desolate landscape is drab and dreary.....white sands on every side with occasional thorny bushes.The situation is so bad that even the camels almost starve as there are no fresh green thorny bushes.There had been no rain for the last three years in a row!! When I was trying to gauge the kind of hardship they have to endure, came the pitiful plea for a job in 'Kolkatta'....any job...anywhere....I shuddered to imagine how this and the other families like his could survive in that inhospitable condition with no guarantee for any earning whatsoever.Then he has to feed his camel also and take him to a veterinarian whenever required.The imploring look in his eyes seemed to hammer in me the real Rajasthan beneath all the glitz,glitter and pomp.It was not the exoticized land of rajas and maharajas,forts and palaces,elephants and Mercs only as it is projected and served on a platter to tourists all over the world.This was the Rajasthan where the likes of Ambaram turn old before age... as starvation and malnutrition take their toll on youth.This was the Rajasthan where the poor, resourceless people literally fight against the scorching heat of the blistering desert sand and the fierce, biting cold.This was the Rajasthan where women,faces veiled,walk miles in the desert in the excruciating heat of summer to fetch a pitcher of water.This was the Rajasthan where female foeticide is rampant and regressive customs,traditions and superstitions are ingrained in the collective psyche.

When getting down from the camel-cart I handed him a few bucks more than what I was asked to pay.I noticed his almost bare feet and the thin,tattered apology for a jacket which he was wearing in a vain attempt to ward off the numbing evening cold of the desert.For a few moments I felt guilty of my protective warm clothes .I realized that not everyone in Rajasthan was a Raja. .

The morning melody

After each and every hectic trip one needs to sit down, recapitulate and let the memories and associations  crystallize and  fall into their  proper  grooves. If I were asked to choose one reason  for a second visit to  Rajasthan, it would  be to meet  Bhanwar  Ram at Jodhpur. From the day I had chanced  upon the man, my  Rajasthan  trip  had  turned  completely  different. Though  I was visually awestruck  by the  glitter, pomp  and  opulence  of  the  forts,  palaces  and  havelis (and yes,it was a surfeit of these), it was a singular  auditory experience  that  has and will remain with  me  for the rest of  my  life. As we all know, Rajasthan  along with  all other  things,  is a  land  of  music  and  dance. It  is  the spectacular  dance movements of the  local  folk in their colourful  attire and  their  beautiful   melodies which  have attracted  tourists from across  the world. But  what  I encountered  that  morning  in  Jodhpur was something  I was  not  prepared  for.

        A  bright  sunny  morning  had dawned  over  Jodhpur. We  were  on  our  way  to  Mehrangarh  Fort. On  the  way  there  was  a  stopover  at  Jaswant  Thada, one  of  the  tourist  destinations. Initially I didn’t  feel  much  drawn  towards  this  place  when  we  were  told  that  it  was  the cremation  ground  of  the  Rajas  and  that  a  huge  cenotaph  had  been  constructed  there  in  memory  of  the  dead  kings. Still  we  decided  to give  it  a  try. It was early in the morning and  we were the  first  visitors of  the day and were warmly  greeted  at  the  gate.  It  was  a  huge,  sprawling  structure  marked  by  the  characteristic opulence  of  Rajasthani  architecture and  it  was impeccably clean  and well-maintained.

              There was absolute silence  when I was startled by a strain of an exquisitely sweet melody wafting all around. Following the sound I came out to the ground .There sat a man in a white dhoti and the typical Rajasthani `safa` or pugree,with his back towards us,playing the traditional  Rajasthani string instrument Ravanhatta.I tiptoed farther and stood silently behind him.A simple,most unassuming man,he continued to play his music.I had rarely come across anyone so engrossed in his own music! I stood,as if enchanted.It was ethereal!The complete stillness of the surrounding, the cold breeze and this lilting melody  blended together and created magic. Having finished his number he looked at us with a faraway look in his eyes.We struck up a conversation and were surprised to find such humility in someone so very talented! As we were in a little bit of hurry we had to cut our stay short  though I could spend the whole day listening to such mesmerising music.

As I took his leave I felt such a sense of waste....this man has to eke out a living by entertaining stray tourists in this fiercely competitive market

.As our car sped through the outskirts of Jodhpur towards Jaisalmer I could  hear the music resonate in my ears....remembered the words of the poet...."The music in my heart I bore,/Long after it was heard no more."

The Camel Man of Jaisalmer

The two-day Jaisalmer sojourn will be etched in my mind for more than one reason. Apart from the usual touristy activities like visiting the Sonar Kella ,the havelis or the desert at sunset, I shall remember Jaisalmer for Narayan Singh Bhati.I met this remarkable person through our driver Mangilal ji at an eatery very close to the Golden Fort.He was the owner of the  Kabab Corner and another one just behind.We were escorted by Mangilal ji to Kabab Corner for some non- vegetarian fare.There we met the man in his mid- thirties,looking dapper in a very colourful jacket and jeans with a traditional Rajasthani Safa or pugree.He sported a stylish pair of sun glasses too.On being introduced to us,the first thing he said surprised us.He said that he,along with the people of Jaisalmer,were grateful to Satyajit Ray for the film Sonar Kella which had brought the town and its iconic fort on the world tourist map.For the first time I felt proud to be a Bengalee in Rajasthan! Then he asked questions about Ray which showed his curiosity regarding the maestro.That Ray was not only a world- renowned film maker but also a great writer was already known to him.! More surprise was in store for us.He told us how he had struggled all his life to achieve what he has achieved. Living in abject poverty,his only source of sustenance was to become a camel boy and earn a few bucks from tourists. Needless to say,he never attended a school.With tireless effort and grit,he had managed to save by the rupee and open the eatery a few years back.
                     After spending a pleasant afternoon in his company,it was time to take leave. I was in for more surprise.Narayan earnestly requested me to send him a few photographs of Satyajit Ray with which he would adorn the walls of his restaurant!! When I asked how I would do that,he just took out a smartphone from his pocket and asked for my phone number. Very confidently he told me to send the photos through Whatsapp!! I was simply zapped! How could an unlettered man use a smartphone?
                    On reaching our hotel I didn`t waste time. I was only too eager to share with this unknown man something or some one I proudly consider so precious. After surfing the net I sent him two photographs of the master film maker and one poster of the film Sonar Kella. Prompt came the reply...`Thanks, hukum.`I wondered how he could type his Hindi words  in English! Earlier he had regretted not having watched the film.I sent him a link for the film and  this time came a voice message saying he was looking up the website!!  ( Incidentally I am in regular touch with him on Whatsapp).Just recently I came to know that he is actively involved with the mission to save the girl child.
               Here was some one who we sometimes term `a self-made `man.I just wanted the very best for him .If ever I happen to visit Jaisalmer again I am sure to pay a visit to Kabab Corner. Narayan Singh Bhati may speak to me in my tongue, so great is his learning instinct.The maestro may smile down at me in a far -off alien land.