Faint Memories of Master Moshai

Old days a male teacher in Bengal always called Master Moshai, Moshai means Mahashai to show respect. I am writing about the teacher who is now faceless, only a dhoti-kurta clad frail and tall frame what I can remember. Often my elder brother asks me how I can remember all those old stuff, frankly speaking - I do not know. When this incident took place, I was may be five or six years old, so hardly can remember the characters related to my topic. The Sir, used to come to teach us, me and my two elder brothers, one almost 10 years older than me and other 5 years as my father was away and it was difficult for women in the house to handle with our studies. At that time, Sir may be at his late forties. My granny, a very wise and intelligent woman, respected by many as well as by Sir too. Therefore, after teaching he often used to spend a quality time gossiping about politics and other thing.

Sir was a headmaster of a local primary school where we were putting at that time. After death of his first wife, he married again. He was having a daughter from previous wife and may be two more (not sure) from second. The daughter was same age of my elder brother and often used to come to our house for some books or notes. My mother and grandmother both loved her very much. Every one in the locality also aware, that the stepmother tortured the girl regularly. Sir, himself was very soft and respected person, and may be a helpless father. At that, time teachers never paid a handsome salary and to keep his household running was a big trouble for him.

On that fateful night, around eight Sir’s wife came to our house, looking for the daughter. My grandmother and mother was surprised and said promptly that the girl hardly move out from her house at daytime, how can she stepped out at night.

Next morning her body was found in a near by pond. My grand mother never allowed us to move out and rush to the spot.

After lots of legal proceeding, finally some help from local people Master Moshai left his job and move out from the locality. We missed him very much.

After few years while living in Jammy (Jamshedpur), I was finally able to understand the story that was going around the locality at that time. The little story which was household hot topic, was all about that fateful night -

When that night Master Moshai returned home, the girl was having her meal and as usual, the wife started complaining about all sort of thing, which the poor girl may be never have done, and in a fit of rage, tired Master Moshai kicked the girl, she died instantly.

Hope above story was just a story but if it is true then I wonder how a woman can act such a beastly manner towards another. The faceless and nameless (I can still get it from my brother but let it be) Master Moshai whom we respected, do not know how he able to carried with his life after that. My heart still bleeds for the girl and Master Moshai too.

!!!Are all good people goes through more grinds and suffering? I am not in a position to justify this theory, because I am an ordinary and average (may be horrible at a time?) person.!!!

My four and half phases of Diwali

Its Diwali time and inarguably this one is the most celebrated festival in India, even Windsor Palace, White House, Wall Street, NASDAQ and NYSE cannot ignore it. Once again, just want to throw away all theory about Ram coming back to Ayodhya etc. During my life, Diwali celebrated in 4½ phases.

First with Kolkata, we used to make firecrackers; since early days, I liked all those activities, where creativity is matter. Mixing sulfur with paste of charcoal from burn wooden pieces and getting some products called firecrackers. While burning those firecrackers we used to keep laughing, do not know on what, on our failure or firecrackers. Then Lamps (Diyas) were everywhere in our big house.

Another beautiful creative thing came up on my Diwali menu while living in Jammy (Jamshedpur). We used make a small mud house on our courtyard, It was known as ‘Budi’s House’ (House of an old lady). Tried hard to give all my creative ideas to it. It was always two storied with a circular staircase and a beautiful balcony. On those days, colours were not available, so it was only white wash. On Diwali day, we decorated it with lamps. Dad used to buy firecrackers from market so gone the days of experiments and poor firecrackers were having huge sigh of relief.

In Mumbai, all things were bang bang and somewhere here slowly the lamps replaced by the candles, but a ‘STAR’ or Kandeel (Light arrangement mostly looks like star) was compulsory thing for every Hindu household. For middle class families Diwali means lots hard work, varieties of home made sweet can be seen like Rawa laddoo, Basan Laddoo and Karenja. Last one was bit troublesome, while preparing it you will feel like a bank’s recurring deposit keep going and going, only relief that you will find lots helping hand from your neighbourhood. Corporate houses and Big Bosses send big thing, least bothered, better forget it. You get a plateful from your each neighbour and mostly homemade cookie. Celebration goes up to or almost fifteen days until Tulsi’s Wedding (I have no idea if Tulsi got married somewhere to someone). Bursting of Firecrackers keep you awake through all nights. From Ganesh Puja onwards and until New Year you will always get a feeling of festivity in Mumbai.

The ½ phase of Diwali was in Singapore, where I was staying with a wonderful family. Strangely, there were no diyas or firecrackers but a huge Diwali party used to thrown to the family members, relatives and friends and more strangely, that lots of liquor bottle uncorked on that day, but only relief for me, that the women from that house never touched those alcohol.

After coming back to Kolkata, this time around, things are changed and another creative thing was waiting for me, lighting arrangement. We are having a big house with garden around and decorating it with tiny colourful electric lights is not mater of joke, but I have always a competition with in. At last happiness come at the evening when all lights are ON, looking at all those tiny colourful twinkles give me immense joy. This only a day when I do not forget to interact with my neighbour, and together we burst a few firecrackers.

While celebrating sometime a strange feeling (guilt) creep through my mind – somewhere in the dark a lonely soul may be watching me when I am celebrating Diwali under thousand lights. It is a fact even bitter one, that country like us having numerous people who even cannot spend a few paisas to buy a Diya.

!! Life is such, joy makes us selfish and in sorrow, we always try find a shoulder to cry!!

Flower, fragrance, precious stone, a beautiful face all in one

While walking down the memory lane, she was there, almost end of the tunnel, still as bright as she was years before. It is impossible for me to ignore herpresence in my early days. She was hardly five feet and Sarees were always too long for her, she used to put a few rounds around her waist to adjust its length. She was having a beautiful tanned face.

When I met her, I was 9 or may be 10 years and she was around 30 or something. She was having a beautiful daughter of my age. She was most probably from Sambalpur (Orissa) and used to call me Didi. Yes! I am talking about our helping hand in Jammy (Jamshedpur).

Like all woman from her community, her husband also was good for nothing, doing odd jobs and mostly doing nothing. She was the one who have to look after the family. She was having a very special bond with my mother and a cat and mouse relationship with me. While wiping the floor, even my shadow fell on the wiped floor, she was already shouting – ‘Ma Dekho Didi ke, ana aar Jana’ (Ma look what Didi is doing, going and coming). On those days, I was naughtiest and at its best (a little secret - nothing changed). I would have given her a cold stare, then ran through already wiped floor, not once may be twice, thrice or more and then quickly tried to find a place to hide. While coming to my house, she would sneak peek through my neighbour garden (not too may in Jamshedpur like Kolkata) and always have few guavas for me.

Subarnarekha and Kharkai are the two rivers, which run through Jammy. The nearest one was Kharkai, which remind me Tagore's poem “Amader Choto Nadi” (Our Small River). You will find hardly any water in summer and in monsoon, it would have been a very fiery one. During our summer vacation, visiting other side was an expedition for us. We were always visiting the small village to chat with the tribes and get few fruits. Now it is very famous Adityapur with all big Industries around. We also often crossed the river for a picnic, and no need to mention that she was always there as an active member and helping us for everything.

One fine day, I cannot remember exactly what happened, but my father got angry with her and sacked her. We were very upset but I was too young to bother by theincident. My father used to work for Tata Iron and Steel Company (TISCO). The morning after the above incident, my father left for his duties as usual, we and as well as my mother got a shock to see her as usual. There were lots of conversation followed between her and mother and finally she broke down-
- Ma, how you will do the work alone? You will die.

She was worried about my mother and just do not wanted my mother to do the work alone. My mother tried hard to convince her but without any impact. So she used to finish her work as usual and then have breakfast with us, I have no idea about other transactions, which may took place between those two wonderful women. After a month or so, she came back, of-course she was always there but this time legally.

After my mother death, somewhere down the line, she left the job, but always there and enquired about us and then I left Jammy. Many years after that finally when I gone back to Jammy, more than 20 years or so on. I asked my brother about her. He told me that her daughter got married to a well-to-do family and she was staying with her. I was very pleased and happy for her.

Jammy is a small town and it was very easy for me to meet her, but I never tried to meet her, no not because she was just a helping hand to us, she was very precious to me, the main cause was, I wanted to keep her there only, where I left her years ago. Another 10 years past, I hope she is OK.

!!! A rare flower with lots of fragrance and an invaluable precious stone all she was; yes, her name was PHUL-MANI!!!

Tree of life, shorter and longer all treasure

Back from Orissa, the Bay of Bengal beach of Puri is good but overcrowded; spending quality time on the beach was not very pleasant one. Visiting Dhauli, Sun Temple at Konark and other places not for first time, so overall this trip was very ordinary one.

Back to my joint on 1st October. On 2nd it was Mahatma Gandhi’s birthday and a national holiday. Over the year my perception about M.G. is changed. I belongs to a family who bear the burnt of partition. Even it is not me who directly gone through the heat of partition, but memories from my Granny’s narration is still haunted. Today I can understand that, it is very unfair to blame M.G. alone for the partition. Anyhow, this is a very sensitive and political issue and I am a very apolitical person.

Apart from Deepavali all other Hindu festival is almost over for the year. On Saturday it was “Kojagari Purnima”. In Bengal, almost all houses perform “Lakshmi or Laxmi Puja” (Goddess of Wealth) on this day. Do not know how the balance sheet of those houses looks like after this day.
When I was in Mumbai, first time I came to know that ‘Kojagari Purnima’ means (Jagoran) no sleep on that night. Only once in early 80’s I was involved in such activity. At that time, I was having a Maharashtrian couple as my neighbour. They were very jovial, friendly and childless. They always used to make use of their spare time for something than other. I used to call them Bhau (big brother) and Kali Baini (sister-in-law [Dark]). I do not understand why to call somebody by her or his appearance or skin colour, but everybody used to call her by that name and she never felt bad. On that particular ‘Kojagari Purnima’ , we went to Baini’s parents house in Ghatkopar. They were a very big family all together. Song, Dance and lots of gossip all what was on the menu along with some Maharashtrian delicacies. After few years, we moved away, I left for aboard and they went to stay in BPT Colony Wadala. Almost after 18 years when Bhau’s retired, they decided to leave Mumbai permanently for their native place, they took lots of pain to locate me before leaving Mumbai, one fine afternoon they came calling to my office. While leaving they told me ‘Kadi tari ae amchi kare’ (Visit us, sometime). I just smiled and said ‘why not?’ Nevertheless, I knew all the way that it was just a white lie, which I uttered.

It is sometime very difficult to keep count of all peoples and their impact on ones life but still there were umpteen numbers of people who crossed my path or just peeped for once, I tried to remember them all; life would have been meaningless without their presence. Out of sight is out of mind is not my way of life.

Life like a huge tree, relations are short timer and long lasting, like leaves, flowers, fruits and branches, some come and go, some stay forever until the existence of tree. All these memories are treasure even it is painful.

!!!The theory about plants having life, if it is true, I wonder if it too remembers all leaves, flowers, fruits and branches, which no longer belongs to it.!!!

Good, Bad or Evil, who are the judges?

Dussera or Bijoya Dasami means the end of Durga Puja. Arguably, the most important of all religious festivals for Hindus is Dussera (or Durga Puja).

In Mumbai, good wishes expressed on Dussera day to each other with exchanging a few leaf of Kanchan flower (Sona). When I was in Mumbai and often used to visit Kolkata on Dussera, I used to joke to my folks about how in Mumbai we get lots of Sona (Gold) as Dussera gift.

Dussera celebrated all over India and in my home town Kolkata it is almost week long celebration. Two customs here, which make me sick One, is touching feet of every elderly person, this is a very bad way showing your respect, if I want to show respect to somebody it should be my attitude towards the person and not just touching feet. I get very angry with anybody who tries doing it with me; I consider myself a very simple human being. Other thing is plate-full sweet, while writing this piece even thinking of sweet giving me a nausea feeling. Things change with the age, as a child always used to look forward to this week.

However, when I am writing about Dussera, this little theory is not acceptable by me-
Dussera celebrates the victory of good over evil. Who is good, Bad or Evil? Evil Ravana? Why?

For your kind information, Ravana was a great scholar, a capable ruler, Veena Player and a devoted follower of Shiva, and he has his apologists and staunch devotees within the Hindu traditions.

If I am hurting the Hindu sentiment, I am sorry. I am a rebel and I will be always one. For one mistake our so-called society burning Ravana every year with so much fanfare. Why not Yudhisthir? A desperate gambler put Draupadi at stake in a game of dice. Male chauvinism put a helpless woman at the mercy of crooks like Kauravas.

After all, what Ram did for Sita? Sita was forced into exile in an unknown forest; she was not only alone this time but also pregnant.
Why not all those who are exploiting woman for their own lust. The list will get bigger with some of those politicians, bigwigs and many others. Some time back one of student was narrating me a little story about the girls in orphanage and how those poor girls are used.

For me Ravana is an unsung hero. Of course, Ravana made mistakes, kidnapping Sita for nothing and just forgot his duties. I am going to finish from a piece of Kabir Doha

Tomorrows work do today, today's work now / if the moment is lost, the work be done how
Kaal Kare So Aaj Kar, Aaj Kare So aab / Pal Mein Pralaya Hoyegi, Bahuri Karoge Kab

!!!My mantra is - Why to keep today's work for now, should have finished by yesterday. !!!