My Memories Of 31st October 1984

(I am not a political person. Hence these following lines are an expression of my anguish and my observation of the situation, at present and what it was 25 years ago, as a human being. I am not making any scholarly statements. Also I strongly condemn the anti-Sikh violence that followed Mrs.Indira Gandhi's assassination.)

As 31st October draws near the treasure chest of my memories opens its heavy-hinged cover to bring out a recollection of the fateful 31st October 1984. A day that numbed India. A day that apparently changed India's destiny. A day, the memory of which will never cease to create tremors in the Indian political and social circles.

31st October 1984, was a usual morning, pleasant as the winter was slowly setting in. My husband Javed, had left very early that morning on a business trip to Lucknow and would return late in the evening. Mother-in-law had gone for a month visiting
her younger son then posted in Nagpur.

I had been married for almost ten months. Was taking my time adjusting to the new environment of the East Uttar Pradesh town of Allahabad. I was born in a small West Uttar Pradesh town, and lived most of my life before marriage in the Western Ghats
of Maharashtra. So it is not difficult for one to imagine the toning and adjustment my body and brain had to undergo to settle down in Allahabad. The Indian diversity is really beautiful but at times can be taxing too!

That morning I had my day's schedule chalked out. As the sun rose to fill the backyard with warmth and brightness I took out my woolens kept in huge wooden boxes hardly opened and largely untouched through the year. They had to be spread in the open as the first step to getting them ready for wearing. I was going to be tied up with this work in the day.

While the cook got busy in the kitchen, my father-in-law went to the garden after breakfast. He would read the newspaper or just relax in his easy chair near the flower beds close to the lawn. He loved the chrysanthemum blossoms and would invariably have some tips for the Mali in planning the layout of the garden for the winter. He was joined there by his younger brother, who lived next-door.

The morning went by smoothly. The cook had finished her work and wanted to go home. Fine.
My father-in-law had come in, it was lunch time already. We ate quietly, which was also usual. He retired to his room for the afternoon. I had just about cleared the lunch table and was putting the leftovers in the fridge, when the telephone rang.

The caller spoke in a shaky voice, that kind when one is not sure of what he is saying. I took some time to recognize the speaker. He was Javed's uncle. His words hit me like a bolt from the blue as he said:
"I just heard Mrs.Gandhi has been shot dead!"
He was giving some other details, but I was not listening.
My mind went blank with shock.

It took some time for us to come to terms with reality.
BY late evening the aftermath had started unfolding and the backlash against Sikhs had begun. Frightened and insecure masses, and here I mean the common man irrespective of his religion and
region, discussed the situation, very apprehensive of the future, which suddenly seemed extremely unpredictable.

Indira Gandhi: the woman with a charming smile, a serene exterior, an apparent feminine vulnerability, yet an interior made of solid iron that had endured personal and professional downturns with amazing fortitude.
None of those deep painful scars could make a dent on the contented and dignified face that she presented to the world. Whatever her political philosophy and ambition be, she was a comforting sight.
In a way the slogan "India is Indira,and Indira is India" was symbolic of her importance, and dominance which can hardly be denied.
Such a powerful and intelligent woman had fallen to the bullets of her own bodyguards. Could there be a bigger paradox?

What would India be after her?
More so after her dreadfully sudden assassination for which none except the perpetrators were prepared.

That debate continued. The fears of well-wishers of the Indian democracy twenty five years back were not unfounded. Today whatever be one's political leanings, we all know that the untimely loss of Mrs.Indira Gandhi has been devastating for the masses who form the bulk of the Indian nation.

As I join the Nation in paying my respects to the Woman who stood tall in her service and loyalty to our Motherland, I am awed by her sense of responsibility and dedication. She had no parallel. Even after twenty five years of her death, India awaits a leader as dynamic, as sophisticated and as charismatic as Indira Gandhi.

Ajit: The Human Being

Ajit, the man who redefined the Bollywood villain with his series of impeccable performances in films like "Zanjeer" and "Yaadon Ki Baraat", was as suave and refined as most of the characters he portrayed

His performances had the ease and conviction of a true veteran, which made those on-screen characters immortal and unique 

Born Hamid Ali Khan in 1922 in Golconda, he belonged to a traditional Pathan family, where acting in films was a taboo. 

Hence he had to run away from home to pursue his dream of acting in films.  

It is said that one of his directors adviced him to change his name from Hamid Ali Khan to something shorter , and after some thinking zeroed on Ajit 

Ajit , who was not comfortable dancing and romancing women on screen , would soon realise that he was actually destined to meet success and glory as a villain 

He decided to listen to good friend Rajendra Kumar who suggested his name for the villain's role in "Sooraj" ... and the rest ,as they say , is history ... 

One Sunday afternoon I was returning from a friend's place and saw a big fancy car parked under the huge Banyan tree in front of our bungalow in the residential colony of the company that my father used to work for. 

Wondering who the visitor could be , I entered the drawing room to see a blurred face behind cigarette smoke , sitting comfortably on the diwan . 

Dressed in an off white pant and shirt and a maroon sleeveless jacket was the man who I had seen smuggling , planning murders and raping women on the silver screen ... !!!

Unbelievable as it was , honestly I don't remember how I had reacted to his presence that afternoon 

I have some very distinct images of his personality etched in my mind ...

His firozi silk kurta and lungi , his presence at the dining table , his smile , his voice ...  

He used to speak so charmingly with a delicate sense of humour that's so alive in my memory even now 

He used to like the serenity and the green open spaces in our colony , so sometimes he would also join his family spending the day with us 

That would be so much fun 

Mummy's friends used to come over to meet him and get bowled over by his grace !!!

His apartments in Bandra and homes in Hyderabad would always be full of guests , family and friends as he used to welcome everyone with affection and specially look after the needy among his family and friends with respect and benevolence 

Discovering actor Ajit Khan has been an interesting journey for me 

In a rare interview with Ameen Sayani Ajit said that Salim-Javed whose story "Zanjeer" had been rejected by the top heroes of that time were looking for an actor to play the role of Vijay , and Salim Khan told Ajit Khan over a cup of tea that he wanted to narrate the story to Amitabh Bachchan 

Ajit was working with Amitabh Bachchan at that time ... They got together ... "Zanjeer" happened ... and that opened the gate of super success for the super hit trio Salim-Javed-Amitabh Bachchan  

A couple of days after his eldest son got married , Ajit Saheb was giving an interview , and was asked about his favourite onscreen mistress "Mona Darling!", to which he smilingly replied:

" I ve let her go now ... "

Our Bandra visits lost all charm and we missed him terribly when he shifted to Hyderabad with his family 

The initial fright which we as children had , had given way to a respectful awe for him that has remained even after he is no more. 

I wish I could have visited his Hyderabad home when he was alive 

It would have been an enriching experience to watch an erstwhile busy Bollywood actor relaxing in his farm house telling stories and playing with his grand children ...

Photo Courtesy : Anil Verma 

Photo Courtesy : Anil Verma 

Photo Courtesy : Ajit Saheb's family 

Pic Courtesy : Ajit Saheb's family 

Pic Courtesy : Salim Khan on Facebook 

Pic Courtesy : Facebook Groups Ajit ( The Lion ) and Film Actor Ajit 

Pic Courtesy : Salim Khan on Facebook 

When Ismat Aapa came knocking .............

The vastly spread out residential colony nestled among Nature's bounties with huge, well-ventilated stone bungalows that had lawns, out-houses, and backyard kitchen gardens, and the old Bombay-Poona Road winding its way up the western ghats running right in the middle, was never really asleep. Deep into the night also one could hear the laboured dragging of loaded trucks climbing up or down the road. But the residents had got used to all of it. And loved every bit of that beautiful place.

For my family this place was and still is very special in more than one ways.
It was my father's first posting after he joined Tata Electric Company that produced hydro electric power. It was here that my mother came after her marriage. It was here that I came to have my first experiences in school and social life.
It was here that the legendary Ismat Apaa kissed me!

I was a few months old at that time, so this one is from the wealth of my mother's memories rather than my own.
My father was a shift engineer in those days and on that particular day he was doing morning shift. It was still early in the day, the morning breeze giving a welcome kiss to the warmth of the sun as it spread its glory. The traffic on the road was gradually picking up. The sleepy colony would soon be buzzing with activity too.

My mother decided to give the kitchen a thorough cleaning. So she had all the utensils and containers out in the backyard washing space, and herself dressed in the traditional western Uttar Pradesh Muslim attire of a gracefully flowing gharara, topped with a short kurta and complete with a long wide lacy dupatta took to dusting and cleaning before the maid arrived.
It seems I could not have asked for a better toy-land as I started checking out all those boxes and containers making strange sounds playing like the most melodious music in my ears.

Mummy and I were so engrossed in our respective activities that Mummy was taken aback with the presence of the visitors who were by now almost upon us 😊!

Four very sophisticated and meticulously dressed people. Among them, the woman a celebrity Urdu writer who my mother could have recognised even in her sleep.
And yet the great Ismat Apa had the courtesy to introduce herself in the most humble manner , and said she knew my father through some common friends when he was staying at Churchgate.

Ismat Apa was accompanied by her film maker husband Janab Shahid Latif and a couple of others.
The contrast was striking. My mother and I in our soiled clothes, our hands and faces testimony to the vigorous cleaning that was going on 🤗,  while Ismat Apaa and company so immaculate and refined, the fragrance of their expensive perfumes filling the already pleasingly refreshing air.

My young and inexperienced mother was baffled having to handle a situation like this all by herself 🙂. Suddenly she had a "brilliant" idea 😄 , she told the visitors:
"Saheb and Memsaab have gone out, leaving the baby with me. I'm her  governess!"
Ismat Apa  looked closely, her sharp eyes taking in all, but giving away nothing.
Was there in her eyes perhaps  a mischievous smile so fleeting that Mummy hardly noticed 🤔😊💖?

Then she picked me up affectionately, planted a sweet kiss on my cheek and said to Mummy:
"Tell your Mem saab when she comes back that we are going to Khandala and will return in the evening. We'll meet her on our way back!"

The visitors started walking towards the gate, to Mummy's great relief, when Ismat Apa turned back, looked at my Mom in the eyes and said rather authoritatively,
"And you! Take care of the baby ... the air is still pretty cold for such a small child. She should be wearing some warm clothes."

In the evening as Ismat Apaa, Latif Saheb and friends sat dining with my parents, sharing among other things the morning incident amidst laughter and fun, Ismat Apaa looked at Mummy with motherly fondness and said:
"Do you really think I would not know the difference between a "bibi" and a "baandi 😊🥰😄 ???"

Zohra Javed

Too Much Too Soon?

For most of the world the announcement that President Obama is awarded the Nobel Peace Prize 2009 has come as a surprise. A big surprise indeed! A debate has sprung up whether Obama has done enough to deserve the honour. I really don't think the Nobel Peace Committee takes an opinion poll before deciding on the awardees. They are free to honour a person or an organisation of their choice perhaps. But logically of course there must be a reason good enough to justify their choice.

Hence the numerous debates all over the print and electronic media and also on the popular networking sites are not out of place. The opinions are as varied as the people themselves. Some feel it is only due his colour that President Obama has got the coveted prize, while others feel his peace initiatives deserve such motivation so that he is encouraged to speed up the peace process and also look into other issues that need to be addressed.

while Some around the world have raised objection to the choice of President Obama as an epitome of Peace as he still oversees wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the Nobel Prize committee has a differing view. It appreciated the apparent change in the global atmosphere that President Obama's calls for peace and cooperation have brought about, as also his pledge to reduce the stock of nuclear arms, his efforts to bring about better understanding with the Muslim world, and his work towards combating climate change. However even if one grants the President credit for all of these praiseworthy initiatives, is it not a bit too soon that he has got this award ?

People around the world seem to have pinned their every little hope for peace and a world free of war on Obama. Just the other day someone remarked that with the coming of Obama the Clash of Civilizations seems to have come to an end and that the US will now have a more humane face. Are we expecting from President Obama more than he can possibly deliver?
I think we are.

After all why are we forgetting that Barack Obama is a politician and he must have the very essential qualities that make one worthy of being the President of the most powerful nation in the world. He cannot overnight bring about changes in policies that have come down from the past. He cannot shun war. This is a bitter fact and cannot be overlooked, whatever the good intentions of President Obama be to save humanity and bring about peace and harmony.

So I thinks its bit too much too soon for Obama. It is as if we have taken for sure that President Obama has already delivered on all his promises, whereas the fact is that he is still talking. Any concrete action in an effort to fulfill people's expectations from him have to still see the light of the day.


Zohra Javed

"Love Aaj Kal" Or "Kal Aaj Aur Kal"...Oh! Whatever...

The fruit of technology and science was never so much within common man's reach as it is now. But with reports of not just possible, but proved misuse of technology, fears of parents over the marathon conversations on mobile phones and long hours spent on the net by the youth these days cannot be completely misplaced. In fact families today, although supposedly living under one roof, have apparently drifted apart, although quite unknowingly, but so much so that to get all the three or four members in a family to at least one meal together in a day is a herculean, if not an entirely impossible task. In such a scenario Mother Teresa's Saying that a family that eats together stays together can as well be laid to rest alongside that noble soul who said so.

Its not only the youth who spend time away from the family, even the smaller children are so much into watching cartoon films and so called entertainment channels for children (which is many times as good as any adult stuff) that afternoon stories of the granny or the family prayer before going to bed has become a fable of sorts. So how does the concerned modern mother inculcate "good habits" in her children? How does she even communicate with her off-spings, who had not so long ago taken their first hesitant step with her help and mumbled their first syllable after her much painstaking effort, and not to mention the patience and tact that went into teaching them to button their shirts, tie their shoe laces or hold their tooth brushes and spoons right.

While it is the most cherished pleasure of a mother to be a part the growing up of her children, these days women professionals with their dual responsibilities have to sacrifice a good deal of this immensely gratifying experience; the children usually being looked after by a maid or a grand-parent. In such cases it becomes extremely difficult to keep a check on what goes on behind the back. Although there is much love among the family members and they care for one another, there are pressures in a life that has of late become excessively demanding. However there is a small minority of females who have chosen the luxury of being the seemingly insignificant home-makers. They certainly have better options of knowing the path their children are treading. Or so they like to think, a la Bollywood moms who know everything that crosses their children's minds!

My friends and I often discuss the changes that time brings with it as one phase of life transcends giving way to another making one apprehensive and anxious of what the unknown future holds. Most of my friends are career-women and already have a good understanding of the latest technology. Often they made up for their physical absence from their children's lives by gifting their children expensive electronic games and gadgets.

For me however it was a little different. I could sense the growing distance and silence between my children and me as the children became more independent and I had chosen to be the "insignificant home-maker"!
Was this the generation gap I had heard my elders speak about when I was young?
History was surely repeating itself. This was comforting thought because I suddenly realised that my mother must have felt the same. I remembered how she would take interest in the little things that mattered to us.

That is when I thought of hitting the net and finding out for myself what the world had been upto while I was busy raising kids and looking after the house. And what a magical experience it was: the world at my finger tips literally! It instantly brought me close to my children as they worked hard to instill in me a sense of confidence to help me make the best of my new-found abilities. Although my children and I are strong individuals with our independent thought processes, we now have a lot of things in common and I am no more fearful of Orkut and Facebook being the devils out to devour our culture and ethics like the devastating locust.

My generation is diligently building bridges between an older generation that is uneasy at the youth saying "hi" and "bye" insted of a respectful bow of the head before their elders, and a youth filled with ideas of equality that translate into them calling their mother's friend by her first name instead of "masi" or "aunty". It is an effort worth every minute spent on it because if there is an understanding and possible amalgamation of the better traits from both these diverse groups of the old and the young, that is to say between science/technology on the one hand and material traits of a racial, religious, or social group on the other, one can have the world one has forever dreamed.


Zohra Javed

Dear God! The Poor Are Missing You...

When everyone had given up any hope for rain, it sure has played havoc in Andhra Pradesh and Karnataka. And also in some parts of Goa and Maharashtra.
There is an irony in this whole situation:
The areas that have been hit by devastating flood were declared drought-hit some time back.
And in this situation there is a cruel tragedy also:
Whatever was left of the crops (under a drought) has now been washed away by the fury of the rains.

Just wondering as to how this apparent act of injustice by Nature that has had the most damaging effect on the poor, fit into the Divine impartial justice of a God, who is Almighty, All-Powerful, Just and the only Saviour of the poor.
How could God allow the poor to suffer more and more while the rich get all the privileges.

Whatever one might say in support of Divine Justice, a situation like this compels one to feel that this cannot be the justice of The God who I believe in.
Then what could it possibly be?

Do we realize that there is a man-made crisis already staring us in the eyes, and as film maker Shekhar Kapur said in a message from the Rohtang Pass in the Himalayas, we are not talking of a possible calamity in the distant future.
It is right here before us:
Global warming is menacing.
Deforestation is threatening.
We are dangerously playing with Nature.
We are thoughtlessly meddling with God's work.

Where are all the open spaces, green patches, public parks and such other common sights that I took for granted in my younger days?
In these days of health consciousness most of us talk of the importance of fresh air, exercise, healthy diet, saving plants and trees and so much else.
But what do we really do ?
("talking" and "doing" denote different actions...as in "preaching" and "practice", right?!)

We hardly resent the coming up of a shopping mall, an industrial complex, a multi-crore private educational institute or hospital and such other symbols of our progress. The space that could have been used for a public utility service like educational institutes for the underprivileged, hospitals for the poor, or for the promotion of our indigenous art and culture actually becomes a source of pollution and increased emission of anthropogenic greenhouse gases and also an addition to the fast increasing list of the places out of the common man's reach.

However the tragedy is we remain oblivious and stone-deaf to Nature's cries.

Hence I conclude convincingly that it is not God Almighty we should be blaming for natural disasters.
It is us
And it is time we must own up our wrongs

Okay
So one looks around for solutions

And then comes to fore the truth :
Playing havoc with Nature are the people who have the means to do it :
The Super Rich !!!
Their filthy power has blinded them. 
They are snatching away the resources and the very means of existence from the poor.

Yet they are not the ones to be affected by Nature's fury.
A flood does not make them homeless and sick.
A drought does not effect their supply of food and water.

So I am back to square one:
My mind still searching for a rational explanation for this seemingly unjust distribution of money and wealth among God Ji's own Creations and the extreme suffering of the poor.

I don't want to loose my God to the Propertied Pirates of this Planet.

Zohra Javed.

Ulhas Gaikwad comments:

This again substatiates the basic tenets of Darwinian theory: Survival of the fittest and species mutate or perish on the principal of natural selection.

There are many spiritual explanations for the suffering of the poor/ humble; but the fact remains that NATURE is blind. It is ruthlessly impartial. It does not differentiate between rich, poor, pious and sinners. Let us face the TRUTH. Faith in God may give you solace, may muffle your yeaning to seek explanations to many disturbing questions, but you can not be faithful and logical at the same time.

Nature has gifted us a superb brain, which can observe and analyse such issues. It wants us to use it rationally and live life founded on WISDOM. I think thats the most we can ever do; because never does nature say one thing and wisdom another. I hope you understand...

Ulhas Gaikwad

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My Kitchen Helper

She is short, small eyes, nose pecked proudly in the most appropriate place on her fair face. Her rather stout figure is always neatly draped in a sari, its pallu, covering her head. Her walk I think makes her look like a football rolling on at a contented pace, except that footballs don't have to carry big heavy bagfuls.

And just one close look at her is what it takes for the myth of contentment conveyed by that leisurely pace, to go flying off high in the air, for on her face every little crease and wrinkle almost screams tellingly and yet with amazing silence, that only extreme patience can bring, of the struggles of her existence.

Circumstances that one goes through and the genes that one carries determine the kind of person one eventually becomes. And she comes across as fiercely independent, repulsively haughty and capriciously fastidious. I have no inclination to research her genes, but do have some knowledge of the hardships she has gone through. And the kind of difficulties she is facing.

She is my maid. And I have to put up with her finickiness every morning!

My mother and sister on their visits to my place put to test all their tact, intelligence and admonition to bring about some pleasantness in her ways, but surrender in disgust, and advice me to go in for a change while giving her up as a hopeless and incorrigible case. Indeed I have been offered seemingly better alternatives by neighbours and friends. Maids who make softer chappatis, who have a time-table and work according to it...and above all they are thoroughly professional.

My children also tell me that if I am continuing with this woman so as to help a poor woman who has enough self respect to earn a living rather than beg for it, there could definitely be other ways of compensating her.

So why have I chosen to put up with someone so absurdly irksome? Do I like to hear her continuous and invariably unpleasant chatter or do I prefer to have a maid who skips some or the other chore every second day?
No. Not at all.
And yet I can't bring myself to agree to turning her away...and so not without reason.

She may have her flaws. Don't we all have?
She may not be as good as the younger maids, not as agile and quick in her reflexes. Yet I am comfortable with her. I find that bunch of more adorned and apparently more disciplined "bais" hurrying from one job to another with complete ease and also finding time to gossip and have fun, a little repulsive and irritating.

Some time back my cervical spondylosis aggravated without any warning and I was in extreme pain. My sister stays in another city and my mother at her age is not expected to be going about washing utensils and cleaning the house. The children have their work and studies.
So what were my options while I suffered?

It was my maid who brought me hot breakfast without any of her annoying mannerism and tried to put me to as much ease as her abilities allowed. She does not follow a work time-table and she is not a robotic professional. Therefore, perhaps she was there for me when I needed help.

Is she my maid?
Or a little more than that?
I don't know.
But one thing is for sure...I would never ever want to have anyone else in her place.
With all her finickiness, she still is a pleasant sight every morning...!!!