Small town dreams...

"I am not made for civil services." This statement from me had brought typical ekta kapoor's tragic heroine style anger on my mother's face. She said," You will have to be and after all it was the first dream that you have seen in your life. It was for the first time you had secured 100% marks in your school life and anounced your serious ambition to become an IAS officer after receiving prize from your principal. How can you forget that?"
I wish i wouldnt have expressed my "serious" wish in the final prize distribution ceremony of my nursery standard.
It was a trend of my little town to express your very serious wishes in a very non-serious childhood.
One of my uncles had named his son, 'candy', after a name of famous hospital- Breach Candy. He too had announced his serious dream to be a neurologist in his nursery standard.
Candy was very much interested in girls, not to just be with them, but also to be like them. He always used to irritate me by changing hairstlyes of my barbie doll. Once, he advised me to use new camey soap to become beautiful and fair. Recently, i saw a camey soap in a shop when i was hunting for civil services coaching in Delhi after my graduation. I bought it, not to test its beauty enhancing formula, but just to rejevunate my old childhood days.
These civil service coaching centres are very interesting places. After all, this is a only place where one can meet future bureaucrats without the hassle of appointments. A boy with specs came out from the coaching room. I asked him about the coaching centre. He said, "well, it is my third year here. I am sure that this year i will manage to get through the exam."
I said, "third year" with wide eyes open. He said, this is what known as dedication and this is how officers are made."
So, what would you do after getting into civil services? i asked.
" I have always liked white ambassador with a siren and flashing red light. Nobody can dare to stop this VIP car. You get free passes for every exclusive occassion in the district. Life becomes very hectic so you get servants for every thing, even for getting vegetabales from market. This is the most luxurious and respectable job one can get. Even 16 hours study in a day is not enough for this VIP life. i can sacrifice my whole 24 hours a day for this", he said with grin on his face as if he could feel the presence of armed guards surrouding him.
My eyes were still wide open, and the only words which i uttered were...Ohhhh.Ohhhh
he said, "and what about you?
I said, "I have been preparing for it since my nursery standard."
This answer was not made to impress this perfect bureaucrat material but a very natural and automatic one, might be it was the unconditional response which was operating in my sub conscious or regression in the terms of Sigmund freud.
This place was full of small town dreams. Big dreams flourish in small towns as my small town always geared me up for the long trek down the mountains.
Though, reasons unclear but most of the IAS officers come from small towns only.
I came back with a preparation book only. One of my friends saw it.
She was a doe eyed girl who used to keep gaze on everything- the things which you can see and the things which you cannot imagine to see. she had a wierd habit to count her money everyday, might be because of her ability to see unseen also.
She screamed with excitement, " Do you know your life will take an unbelievable turn if you make it possible to get through this most honourable exam. I know because my mama is an IAS officer. I got to attend this Rajasthan desert festival as a VIP just because of him, now you can imagine how your life would be after doing this."
I thought, do really people slog for years to get this "VIP" life or is there some thing else which drives them to devote their day and nights to get this most coveted job?
I have seen people becoming claustrophobic and depressed maniacs running in the race of becoming "very important person."
Well, neither i have a fetish for red flashing light on white ambassador nor is there something else which drives me to be one of the most important persons.
i went back to my childhood to introspect the reason of this unconditional response made by me.
I was standing on my school's stage with a pig tail on my head. Every body was clapping with bright smiles on their faces, Very important persons (VIPs) were sitting in the front row. It was for the first time when i felt so honoured and important. The principal offered few remarkable comments and handed me my prize- A big eagle standing on the small globe. I have got many prizes after that but this day remains always alive and fresh in me as if it was just yesterday.
One of the VIPs asked me a queation- "What do you want to be in your life?"
I said, " Ofcourse, an IAS officer."
I got the greatest possible claps on this answer. These claps made me realize that this answer has made me more important, might be very important.
Perhaps, it was the sense of power that made me think and say this on that particular day or perhaps i wanted to impress very important persons of my life that day.
This day got inscribed on every one's conscious who were present there but faded from my conscious and conscience, not in an unconscious state but in a very conscious state.
I still have my first prize with me. Whenever i look at that, i always feel that the big eagle which is standing on the small globe is me and the small globe is my small town.
I wish i could go back to that stage again and tell people that i want to be this eagle who doesnt know how to fly this time, let me try to fly, see the failures and decide where to fly...

Aakanksha Mohan Sharma

Kashmir- the dream so undefined...

It was a usual Friday morning of Srinagar, Kashmir in this September, running roads with an expected certainty of getting closed. It has become a routine for people to protest for getting separation from India after offering Friday prayers in Jamia mosque of Down town, a routine of screaming voices, pelting stones, shelling and firing, peeping eyes behind the windows and blood shed. These young boys have no fear in their eyes, no shivering in their spines. Downtown becomes a mini war front on every Friday afternoon that’s why known as Gaza strip of Kashmir. It looks like a game in the beginning in which both sides take their positions- young Kashmiri boys of 6- 26 yrs on one side and Indian armed forces on the other side. A 21 yrs old boy thinks that “this is the result of over exposure of forces to us. We are not afraid of them now. It has become our daily routine.” An old woman recalls the time when “they used to give warning 3 times before opening a tear gas shell and then 3 times warning before opening a fire. But things have changed with times. Now they just warn for once and open tear gas and then fires. It’s been the worst rule of our times she said.” Forces were ready to take action at every nook and corner of downtown. It was preceded by little kids of 6-12 yrs. They started coming on roads with stones and slogans like- “hum kya chahte azadi.” “We want freedom”.
My eyes were one of the many eyes who witness this deadly game very often. The boys and armed forces were standing in front of each other, passing comments in a very sporty manner. The boys started pelting stones on the forces, boulders of different shapes and sizes. The forces were quite non- responsive to the boys in the beginning and they moved back to the back side of the lane. The boys had a euphoric reaction to that victory. Suddenly, two vans full of armed forces thrashed into that narrow lane opening tear gas shells and fires on the protesting boys. It was a complete mayhem. Screaming voices of women from windows started coming- kitne mare? “How many have died? The lane became completely full with armed forces screaming and shouting- Come outside and pelt stones. The whole lane became militarized in few seconds, with approx 100 armed men.
But this story has not a stereotypical ending. Another group of boys comprising same age group was waiting for forces in other side of the lane. A woman said “these boys really like to give a tough time to these security forces.” After a few moments this lane became empty, left with few soldiers to keep vigilance there and the cordon moved towards the other side of the lane to play the second inning of the game with the other group.
This has become a very normal game which boys play in Kashmir these days.
A cartoon depicted by a cartoonist in a daily news paper shows that armed forces don’t allow a kid to raise his hands. On asking the reason he says that if I will allow him to raise his hand he will also say the same slogan- Hum kya chahte Azadi…… “We want freedom.”
This is not just a cartoon tale of Kashmir but a fact, a reality of every Kashmiri.
They feel like people shunted to the fringe of the world.
One of the boys from the stone pelting side was a student who aspires to do big in his life. He said “but one need respect and peace to think about doing something good in life. We don’t feel dignified in our own land. There is a need to change the system.”
Kashmir is a 60 year old dispute between India and Pakistan in which Kashmiris have suffered most and revolted a lot. Kashmir has seen an armed insurgency in last eighties which have been crashed by Indian armed forces.
An old man said “Kashmir was once known as a paradise on Earth. And, believe me; it used to be like one. Though, this is an irony that Kashmiris have suffered immensely in different times of history. But yes, we have seen good times also but this new generation has seen one form only that is ‘Kashmir as a garrison’. They have seen a lot of blood shed and atrocities in these twenty years.”
This year the armed insurgency completed its twenty years. But this summer added a new heat to this issue. A new wave of revolution has come to Kashmir to demand their right of Azadi, freedom, their right of self determination. This new wave is not like the old insurgency which was loaded with arms and ammunitions but this one is loaded with slogans. There is a complete transition from violence to non- violence. All this got started by a land transfer by state government which made people come to streets and protest against the transfer which eventually became the reason for this new wave of non- violent revolt. Millions of people came on the streets to demand their right of self determination. Fifty seven people got killed during this summer.
This sentiment is so strong and a need to resolve this issue is much stronger than that.
The class which was quiet earlier has raised its voice also. A doctor said that, “We need a solution to this dispute- a solution that is not just a solution but a solution which is a dignified solution. We need our dignity and self- respect. We don’t want to be treated as mute spectators but want to be participator in solving this age old problem.”
This movement has a deep psychological impact on children.
I was sitting in the OPD of psychiatric Hospital, Srinagar when I met Abid. He was a ten years old boy with charming and innocent looks. He met the psychiatrist with cheerful smile on his face. His father was a tensed old man with a fleeting smile. Doctor asked him, “Do you still need Azadi (freedom)? He was not looking into the doctor’s eyes and smiling in his own world. On asking again, he nodded his head and said “yes, I need that.”
They had a brief talk with doctor and left with the prescription. The doctor told me that he was mentally retarded and suffering from Maniac disorder. He thinks that he is a great leader and always shouts slogans in favor of freedom.
After approaching his father, one could easily feel the burden that he feels of being a father of only son who is mentally retarded. He said, “He is mentally ill from his childhood. He was never like normal kids. He has left school because he is not able to keep pace with other kids and more over, he becomes very aggressive and violent also. Now, he has become maniac also. He goes to every pro- freedom protest and shouts slogans. He thinks that he is a great leader and joins every pro- freedom march. He went to Idgah, Pampore, and Islamabad for pro- freedom rallies which are quite far from Sri Nagar. Once, I came home in the evening and found him severely bleeding. He fell from a vehicle and got injured very badly. I thrashed him badly that day but I am still guilty of beating him. But still he goes outside and shouts pro- freedom slogans. Police has kept his videos but they don’t say any thing because he is a mentally retarded kid.”
It has an obvious impact on normal kids also. It is very easy to find kids writing poems on freedom.

Freedom is a most common word in Kashmir. But meaning of this word is not similar for every one. There are different people and meaning associated with this word is also different for different people- completely political for some, ending of miseries and atrocities for some, gaining self- respect and equal dignity for some, getting peace for some.

“We need normal life, full of freedom and dignity says a student. This crisis has paralyzed education and work culture. People don’t feel like working because of the never ending strikes and curfews. Our education is not consistent as we don’t get the normal environment for studies. Kashmiris are coming on the streets to demand their rights and we hope that it will give us our right to respect.”

This transition of violence to non- violence can be seen as a dealing of trauma in a positive way. Traumas can make wonders in life if dealt positively and can prove fatal if dealt negatively. This society has seen a lot perhaps that’s why they have learnt to deal trauma in a positive way. Or simply a “common sense” if put in the words of a young Kashmiri who works in the US.

Freedom is a dream that every Kashmiri sees, a dream which is alive, which have different meanings for different people, a dream that remains undefined…


Aakanksha Mohan Sharma

My candle light tales

It was christmas eve at home and we were so excited to glow candles..... slim and white candles...
They always remind me of Nainital. The first word which comes to my mind when ever i see candles is Nainital.. Though i have never visited that place. It was a trend of our little beautiful hill station to keep elegant Nainital candles, another hill station of Uttarakhand.. Candles of exotic hues and shades..... This small town was like any other little hill station... blessed with great social life.... with obvious pros and cons. A Delight when get to attend never- ending get togethers and dinners and a plight when you become host of this vicious circle which has no end.

Nainital and candles have another association with me. One of my classmates in my college had gifted me a candle and that too from Nainital. We used to call him BOND... not because he was 007 but because he was a ba...... of New Delhi(bond is an abbreviation for bastards of new delhi) . He was designated with another name also. He was known as xerox Salman Khan.... not for his great bod but for his absurd behavior, a messiah of beggars of PVR Saket, giving them money and his burgers was something which he really used to relish and the beggars savoured those moments with obvious relish. Once he, another friend, and i was sitting together in canteen and as usually cribbing about the holes in our pocket and suddenly he asked me a question.
" How much money do you need?
I said, " ummmm, yaar just to buy four samosas and a cold drink."
And, we got shocked when he did this to be our messiah that day..
He said,"i really dont want you people to crib again. Take these 1500 rupees for your canteen expense."
Well, it could only be BOND.... some times 007 and some times ******* of new delhi. It was difficult to understand him. That day i thought that this is his habit to reduce burden from his pockets, might be to prevent over- flow of his wallet..

There is something more which reminds me of Nainital and candles. My first room mate in my first year of college was from the same place..... Actually, she was not from Nainital but had done her schooling from a boarding of Nainital.. We were very different though we did get well together when we started talking about things. It was so pleasant to got to know about our similar tastes- ahhhh, a liking for elegant Nainital candles was one of them. She was from a small town and me too.. I thought that this is a small town syndrome or positively a mania of elegant candles. She always used to give me a task.. to describe a key which can unlock my future.... Her probing was always so provoking that it was so natural for a dreamer like me to imagine that key. She used to ask.
" Just imagine, that you have got a key which can unlock your future... What would be the color of that key, how big it would be, would it be embedded with precious stones or would it be like a simple iron key?"
I used to describe a lot about it but she never came to any conclusion about that description. It was a kind of projective techniqe that she didnt know how to interpret. She had also gifted me a candle from Nainital. so, another candle from there....
Well, I was so glad to put candle given by BOND to me on my dining table-- after all it was from Nainital. It was a concieted black cat.
I have never been superstitious of black cats. The only black cat i remember is from Arabian Nights. My cartoon-network,,, no not cartoon-network, my disney hour conditioning reminds me of black cats as source of feminine evil. They are black beauties like Naomi Campbell or like our very own Bipasha Basu. They are mysterious, magical, evil, wicked and slutry. (these adjectives are only for my black cat from Arabian Nights, not for the ladies mentioned above).My childhood was all about cartoons and lot of cartoons. I always used to wake up at 8.15 in weekdays and had always been a late comer to the school. My teachers were so used to my habit that they started liking it some how. The time to get up on sundays was 7.30 in the morning. Ofcourse, to watch cartoony tales in Disney Hour. and, i was not limited to disney hour only i was also so much possessed with blinking eyes of jinnie, Denis, peter of Ghost busters ( One of my crushes) and three stooges with many more.. I really get annoyed when i watch Cartoon- network and many other toon channels with my brother now.From there i get to understand about the unwanted aggression of my brother and his friends. I dont know from where they have got super- technologies in miny-tiny toons? Black cats have been always a female wicked characters in cartoons and still they are present in these hi- tech toons also. well, i dont have any issues with black cats in real- life.I am the least superstitious person of my family... just like my father whose quest for spirituality has never intersected any cord of superstition. but i believe that the candles which i glow on christmas don't leave any melted wax after burning... this is something which i believe from my childhood. My younger brother told me that it has a reason,,, that the candles which we used to burn in childhood were made of very fine wax so they hardly leave any wax after burning.. Whatever it may be ,but this is something i dont want to stop beleiving in.
As usually, my parents were not interested in this candle glowing affair.... My sister and i were excited to glow candles and to make wish of the year.... My brother looked quite reluctant to initiate any thing from his part. He had turned 13 that year. Finally, he broke his silence and admitted that he doesnt wants to light his candle this year. In fact, he doesnt wanted to join it in any way. and the reason which he gave on asking was...
" I dont believe in God now. So, what is the use of doing something which will be just a super- ficial task. I dont want to do any thing just for the heck of doing it.so, i wont light this candle."
My sister told me that children stop believing in God when they reach adoloscence because their thinking become much abstract and factual. I thought, Ohhh,he is on the right path of his cognitive development.... I asked him about the reason of this sudden development.
He said, " Do you know what, i have just lost a marathon which i could win if he had helped me."
I asked, "Who dindt help You?"
He replied, " Ofcourse, God didnt help me. I was running with all of my energies and strength. I was running with no one along me. I turned around and could see only one running after me, very far from me.. Few bikers came with camera covering me and started cheering me. I was so thrilled by this exprerience. The finishing line was visibe now. I could see it and suddenly i started losing all my energy, it seems that my veins were losing grip over my body, my head was shaking, icould feel my bones wrecking... I said, Please god i have done a lot on my own. I have reached here on my own potential.. Please give me little strength so that i can reach the place for which i have struggled a lot. And, after that i opened my eyes and i was sitting in the lap of my sports teacher. I saw that the person who was running behind me came first.. And, i was out of the race because i fell down just before the finishing line."
" They say that God helps those who help themselves. I did that but he didnt do that. Thats mean either he doesnt exists or he doesnt loves me."

I asked him, " HMMMM,,,, well,, tell me, suppose, some day you want to buy something for you. You manage to gather 85% money to buy it.You ask your parents to give you rest 15% but due to any reason, they are not able to ful fill your demand. So, would you stop loving them? Would you leave them?"

He said,"NO, i wont. Because i love them unconditionally."

After 15 minutes, my sister my brother and i was glowing candles, not from Nainital but from a near by local shop. We closed our eyes to thank god and to grant our old and new wishes.

I asked my brother after glowing candles, praying and making wishes.
"What wish did you make this year?"
He replied," No wish this year. I havent asked for any thing. I have stopped trading with God. no more wishes, no more disappointments, no more trading, just an unconditional relationship."
But that didnt prevent me and my sister to write letter to santa like every year.
And, i was so happy and satisfied to see in the morning that this year also the candles didnt leave any wax behind them."