Bhopal Notes :: 67 :: Decaying parks

http://www.bagchiblog.blogspot.com

The local municipality, apparently, is contemplating to do up the decaying parks that have not been touched by them for decades. This is particularly true of the parks in the old city where they are subjected to neglect and apathy – even abuse by dumping of trash in many of them.

This was a “nawabi” town and it had, therefore, a number of gardens. It was, in fact, known as a city of lakes and gardens. The Nawabs, as was the wont of Muslim rulers, were fond of gardens. The Bhopal Nawabs, especially its female Nawabs – the Begums, too were fond of gardens. They created and maintained a number of gardens and some of the localities now are known by the names of the gardens that were there or have since disappeared. Bagh Mugalia or Bagh Sevania are some such examples which are now in decay. Even the ones in the centre of the town like Qudsia Bagh and Yadgare Shahjehani too are neglected and are uncared for. This is also true of Bagh Farhat Afza as well as Aish Bagh. The only parks and gardens that are taken care of are the ones in New Bhopal, the main roads No.1, 2 and 3 and the green spaces of  Char Imli maintaining which would seem to be mandatory for the Muncipality as these are so-called VIP areas.

In any case, the kind of incompetence it suffers from, the Municipality cannot be expected to maintain and develop all the gardens and parks of the town. Elsewhere people are creating parks and garden in landfills and have been able to create a whole new ecosystem with plants, birds and other organisms. An example is  the green space created in Kearney, New Jersey where a landfill was worked on by researchers of the Rutgers University that has now become a places for rest and relaxation of the locals.

Having regard to the limitations of the Municipality one would like to refrain from loading it with additional work. One tends to feel it would suffice if the municipal authorities plant trees, especially native ones in the gardens. The maintenance effort on them would be minimal but the returns will be enormous in the shape of new ecosystems. Devoid of the labour and effort of maintaining flower beds that need change in every season the trees would not require intense effort once they grow up but they will provide a kind of green lung to the localities where parks are situated.

Something of this kind has been done at the tri-junction of the VIP Road at Karbala. There were lots of trees on the other side of the water pumping station which have been organized into a beautiful patch of green. The undergrowth has been cleared and a few seating spaces have been installed. Even a gazebo has been erected with benches. The canopy overhead fends off the sun even in summer.

 One supposed it did not take much of an effort on the part of the Municipality to convert the available green area into a place for relaxation of the people. One would like the Municipality to create such spaces wherever possible to provide green ambience to the localities having parks that are in decay. The available barren parks could be used for the purpose for the benefits of health of the people. I recall that In the conference of mayors held in San Francisco  about ten years ago a resolution was adopted towards providing parks for every individual within a kilometer of his residence. In India, perhaps, this is a tall order. Let us, to begin with, regenerate the existing facilities in a way we can manage. Forget about flowers; let’s have trees and more trees in the parks.

*Photo from internet

Our Life, Our Times :: 27 :: Is it democracy or oligarchy

http;//www.bagchiblog.blogspot.com

We are in the midst of election season. As many as five states are going to polls this month and early next month. And then the General Elections for the Parliament are looming over the political class. These will be held sometime around next May. Modi will be seeking re-election and, hence, the fight is going to be tough.

Even the elections for the five state assembly seats are witnessing vigorous campaigns. Candidates of Bharatiya Janta Party (BJP) and the Indian National Congress (INC), the two major parties, are going hell for leather for a win at the hustings. The campaigns have increasingly become jarring, acrimonious and abusive of politicians or their families. This was seldom seen earlier unless, of course, one takes into account Sonia Gandhi’s description of Modi as a “merchant of death” in the 2007 Gujarat elections.

This time the level of political discourse has plummeted to a new low. While the Congress President called the Prime Minister a thief another petty politician, a newly elected member of Gujarat Assembly, called him “haramkhor”, a term in Hindi the English translation of which even Google could not find. The best it could do was to suggest that it could mean a rogue or a rascal. Taking up Rahul Gandhi’s abuse of Modi as a thief, it must be mentioned that there was credible evidence against Gandhi’s father about transfer to him of moneys from kickbacks from purchase of Bofors guns. And yet, no one ever called Rajiv Gandhi a thief, which, from all evidences, perhaps he was. Senior lawyer Ram Jethmalani had even mentioned in the Rajya Sabha the amount that was transferred to a German bank in the account of Gandhi’s father. Besides, everyone knows how a Central minister sat on the relevant file to allow Ottavio Quattrochi, a co-accused in Bofors bribery case and a close friend of Gandhi’s mother, to escape from the clutches of Indian Police. And yet nobody ever called Rajiv or Sonia Gandhi thieves. That nobody during the UPA regime pursued these matters is another matter.

More recently, the elections in which Modi swept to power in 2014 the issue for Bharatiya Janta Party was basically massive corruption indulged in by Manmohan Singh and/or his cabinet colleagues. While in the Coal Scam Dr. Manmohan Singh himself was involved, large scale corruption in sale of spectrum, purchase of a VIP chopper, the Commonwealth Games etc. took place and several ministers were and perhaps are being still investigated. As many as nine scams were discovered in the nine years of UPA Rule. While Dr Manmohan Singh presided over those scams as they were being committed strong rumours were circulating during his rule as to where the proceeds of the scams were being channellised to. The destinations for the loot was mostly said to be the residence of one family. It is also believed that this family and the Congress Party are, therefore, the biggest critics of demonetization carried out in 2016 as they lost all their ill gotten cash.

This time, there is another peculiarity noticed in the campaigns and that is about inclusion of the parents of Modi in the speeches of Opposition. While earlier Modi’s mother was brought into the speeches the latest is somebody seems to have made a mention of Modi’s father. Justifiably Modi has taken umbrage. None so far from the BJP has brought in Rahul Gandhi’s parents into the campaign and that is good as long it does not happen. Speechifying should be on the basis of ideology but in India these days ideology takes the back seat. The elections are all personality oriented and one will hear the Congress President taking the name of Modi in every address to the people in different towns. Modi too returns the compliment.

The skirmishes and the wars of words continue and the people, the voters, are mute witnesses. In fact, there is hardly anything in the elections for them. Their only role is to go and press some keys on the EVMs and then everyone forgets about them. The kind of democracy that we seem to be running is only for the politicians and their next of kin and certainly not for the general public.

There is enormous stake in the elections for the politicians. They seek the instruments of power and once they get hold of them pelf follows. Most of the MLAs and MPs are billionaires and they made their billions working the instruments of power. A recent newspaper report said that in Madhya Pradesh while the per-capita income rose by 50-odd percentage points the ‘per-MLA’ income rose by 153%. The feral fights that take place during the elections are all because of the state’s resources that are at stake. They are all there for the taking as one becomes an elected representative. It is true of every level whether it is a panchayat election, or a municipal election or an assembly poll or the general elections, the game is basically the same – the public resources the candidates see at the end of the fight; it is the rainbow that beckons them. People are shut away from these goodies. This is how billionaires are made and every five years there is a jump in the numbers of political billionaires.

A large amount of resources, energy and time are invested in an effort to catch the rainbow. The successful ones have their lives cut out – conjuring up wealth seemingly from nowhere. While the dynastic politics of the Nehru-Gandhis is condemned some start their own dynastic line introducing their next of kin into the game. Over a period of last few decades such closed units of political families have proliferated, facilitated, as it is, by the wealth that is made from public life – in actual fact, by purloining public resources. Such families, knowing the ropes, throw everything into the contests including their ill-gotten wealth knowing that much more could be made if they swung the elections in their favour.

India, therefore, is no longer a democracy; it in actual fact is an oligarchy. Only because of the large population the oligarchy is somewhat inflated. In the states, however, because the scale becomes smaller, it is only the few members of the oligarchy that call the shots.

27^th November, 2018

*Photo from internet

Kashmir 50 years ago :: 3 :: A trip to Uri

http://www.bagchiblog.blogspot.com

I was thinking of proceeding to Uri as the office there was due for inspection when Ghulam Mohammed dropped in. He used to be the staff car driver of the Director’s office. I used to think that he was somewhat stand-offish. He, however, became very attached to me after I got his pension authorization in three days time from Kapurthala – the seat of our audit office. More about him later.

 He asked me whether I was thinking of going out of station, if so, he said, he would come along to drive my car. In those days we at the field level had no official vehicle. We were left to our own devices – either one’s own vehicle or use of public transport. Since Ghulam offered to come with me I thought he would be a great help. I rushed the plan as we had to take Inner Line permits for everyone, including Ghulam, a thorough-bred Kashmiri. to enter Uri. It was not open to the public.

Along with Gjulam and Ramesh, my PA, we left for Uri one very fine morning. It was a well built road and the journey was pretty smooth. As we reached the check point I had to stop the vehicle. I kept it at the extreme left from where I could see the man waving the flag for vehicles to move on. Soon I found the man looking at me and waving his flag. I started off and was cruising at a decent speed. Even despite the noise of the car we could hear the Jhelum River going down a gorge in frothy turbulence. Soon we reached Chandanwari and got into the guest house. Seeing a garage right in front with its gate open invitingly I put the car in and the PA tried to shut the heavy doors but couldn’t as there was nothing to hold them together.

Having refreshed ourselves, all three of us walked to the office. It was around one kilometer away and the road was along the river. After about 500 metres there was a bend to the left and right in front was the Haji Peer Pass at a fairly high elevation. I understand it is more than 8000 ft high.  Hajo Peer, as is well known, was captured by Indian force at great cost of lives in rge 1965 War but was returned to Pakistan under the Tashkent Agreement. We had won back our own territory which was illegally seized by Pakistan, hence where was the question of returning it; but such are the inexplicable ways of the politicians.

Uri at one time was important as it connected Kashmir through the Jhelum Valley Road to Rawalpindi. It also connected Kashmir with Poonch. Nonetheless, it was like a one-horse town. Across the river the mountains were in illegal occupation of Pakistan.

After about three hours I finished the inspection and we commenced our walk back to the Chandanwri rest house. It was pleasantly cool and one felt like walking. Arriving at the rest house I checked the car and was happy to find it safely in its shelter.

Next morning we commenced our drive back for Srinagar. This time it was Ghulam who was driving. It was uneventful until we came close to the checkpost around 50 yards from which two jawans vigorously waved us down. They led us close to the checkpost which, in fact was functioning from a tent. They said they looked for my car all through the previous day; they even had gone to neighbouring villages as they couldn’t locate it in Uri. They said I had gone past the check post without getting the necessary clearance. They asked us to wait till the Captain who was manning the post was free.

While waiting outside the checkpost I surveyed the surroundings. Kashmir’s beauty was really unmatched. In the midst of this beauty there was this ugliness of the guards who were manning the post. They were rough and harsh with the passengers in a bus who apparently did not have the permit to go out of Uri. Some of them were pulled out of the bus roughly, thrashed and were, quite clearly, left high and dry. The army was Indian and it was also of the Kashmiris and hence perhaps those who defaulted could be treated more sensitively. But there was a flip side. The Army had to to be rough as this was also the route for infiltration from Pakistan.

Soon we were called in. As I entered the Captain, who was a young handsome Sikh asked where we had disappeared in Uri. He also said that his boys went all over but couldn’t find the car – a prominent looking car of flashy red colour. I handed to him the permits and gave our identities saying that I was in Uri on Central government business and that the car was in the garage of Chandanwari rest house where we spent the night. He seemed to be amazed and perhaps a trifle foxed. He asked again about the car and whether the garage was locked. I gave him the facts. It was then that he seemed to go ballistic and let loose a barrage of choicest Punjabi expletives directed at his soldiers.

While he asked me to push off he held back the guards for perhaps some more slamming in the privacy of his tent.It was an anticlimax for the Army boys who perhaps never expected a dressing down and that the table would be turned on them. Of course, we were not privy to how actually things panned out for them. 

*Photo from internet

Destinations :: Paris (revisited)

http://www.bagchiblog.blogspot.com

One of the anchors of the Eiffel Tower

Like the previous occasion in 1987 we had bought EuRail passes in India which enabled us to travel 1^st Class in all trains including the prestigious TGVs and the high speed trains that were basically meant for inter-city travels. In 1987 the TGVs used to ply only between Paris and Lyon and Paris and Geneva.  In the intervening ten years its operations were exponentially expanded and most of the West European cities are now served by TGV trains. TGV stands for Train a Grande Vitesse (high speed train),

So, one morning we climbed into a TGV train plying between Brussels and Paris. It was a non-stop journey and we were in Paris in much less than two hours’ time. Having researched the Paris underground my wife

On a bridge over Seine

knew which train to catch from the Gare du Nord station for the station that we were to travel to to get to our hotel. This time we had booked a (budget) hotel close to Eiffel Tower We could see the Tower from our window and could also walk across to it. It was somewhere close to the area known as Trocadero.

This time we had decided to take it easy and had decided not to rush around. We had quite a good visit ten years ago and had seen quite a bit but every evening we used to feel tired. Now we couldn’t do all that. We decided to walk around as much as possible. The Eiffel Tower was a good starting point. It had extensive gardens and lawns which we had not really noticed on the last occasion. This time we took it all in and more leisurely at that

On the grounds around Eiffel Tower

and saw the environs and enjoyed whatever we saw. The Tower has its own facets and looks beautiful from several angles. It is indeed a marvelous piece of engineering. Reclining on the green grass I kept wondering how it was conceptualized during the infancy of the Industrial Revolution in France.

We walked along the Seine looking at the shops selling curios and wall plates some of which we had at home. Some men accosted us trying to sell curios they said were very expensive. They ran for their lives as soon as they saw some policemen. As we met another such group on a bridge over the Seine it turned out that they were all Indian illegal immigrants. They made a living by operating in the Eiffel Tower area. One wondered as

On a bridge over Seine with gold-painted
capital on one of  supporting
its columns

to why they leave the comfort of their homes and undertake perilous journeys to live a life in shadows mostly in fear of the arm of the law that relentlessly chases them in an alien country.

We walked another day to Notre Dame. It was standing by the side of the Seine in all its glory. Almost a thousand years have not made any difference to it. It was as majestic as we had seen it ten years ago, I found the front portals very interesting with beautiful carvings of the Last Judgment. We tore ourselves away to go towards Champs Elysees. We walked from the Notre Dame admiring the buildings in the surrounding area, one of which apparently was the Arsenal and hence there was heavy police presence. Soon we got into a bus that deposited us on the Champs Elysees near Arch of Triumph.

Champs Elysees is the finest boulevard in the world that I have seen. I have been to quite a few world class cities in the world in the US, Europe

Notre Dame

and Far East but have never come across a boulevard like Champs Elysees. In fact, this along with almost the entire city of Paris is a planned town planned by two Frenchmen, the French Emperor Napoleon III and Georges Eugene Haussmann, in the middle of 19^th Century. They were neither architects nor city planners yet they undertook perhaps the largest urban transformation and built Paris that is called the City of Light today. Also, some others call it the City of Love as it has emerged as the most romantic city in the world.

The two, together, planned every detail including the boulevards, avenues and the streets, the height and colour of apartment blocks along these, the massive sized rotaries and so on. They also planned the

On the Charles de Gaulle Place

sculptures and friezes that would be used on buildings or at every conceivable place to beautify the city. Around 400,000 residents were displaced and 600,000 chestnut and other trees were planted along the boulevards and avenues. Hundreds of thousands square metres of open spaces were created and thousands of miles of roads were laid that included Champs Elysees which is one of the boulevards radiating from the Arch of Triumph located at the massive Charles de Gaulle Place.

At Place de la Concorde

It is a pleasure to walk on the pavements of Champs Elysees where massive stores display the latest fashions and where fashionable women strut around with a swagger showing off their acquisitions of trendy garments, hats and shoes. There are numerous cafes that put their chairs and tables out on the very wide sidewalks. Over a cup of coffee one can watch for hours this unfolding panorama. Evenings are perhaps the best to do that when fashionistas amble around displaying their haute couture.

We also walked up to the Place de la Concorde at the other end of Champs Elysees. It is perhaps the largest square of Paris but has a history written in blood. Built in the late eighteenth century it was later used as

At Place de la Concorde

a place for executions of the elite during the French Revolution. It was here that King Louis XVI and his Queen, Marie Antoinette, were guillotined. During those anarchical days the square was known as Place de la Revolution. Its name was changed to Place de la Concorde after the dust raised by the French uprising settled down. There is an obelisk planted here which was a gift from Egypt to France.

Paris is a place which should be visited when one is young. We were 30 years too late in getting there. But when we were young we had no money to travel abroad and when we had little bit of it was a little too late. Nonetheless, given a chance I wouldn’t mind visiting this marvellous city any number of times.

Kashmir 50 years ago :: 2 :: Below Peer Panjal

http://www.bagchiblog.blogspot.com

Aharbal Falls

In early October I had to go to Anantnag. None, except the stenographer, accompanied me. An inspector in-charge of the sub-division, one Ganjoo, came from Pulwama to assist me. After a three day-stay when it was time to get back to Srinagar Ganjoo asked me why not travel along the Peer Panjal and peep into Kulgam, Pulwama and Shopian before  returning to Srinagar. I thought it was a good suggestion. I would not only be able to look at larger numbers of field offices, I would also be able to see these sizable towns. Shopian, of course, I had visited in 1957 when we had come over to the Valley along with the family. I still have a photograph that my late brother had taken with his then newly bought Agfa camera. He was a mere probationer then – and now he is dead and gone after serving 34 years in the government and another 20 odd years with an NGO run by Dr Karan Singh.

After informing my office about my new destinations Ganjoo and I started off in my car towards Kulgam. The place was around 20 kms from Anantnag (also named Islamabad by Kashmiri Muslims). We had, however, to cross the Jhelum and move closer to the Peer Panjals and then head north. The road was, as was usual in Kashmir those days, very picturesque, sometime plain and at others undulating, generally lush green. Evening fell as we got closer to Kulgam. Ganjoo had already made arrangements for our stay in a rest house which was not far from a stream which I gather is known as Vashaw beyond which were the foothills of Peer Panjal. In the gathering dusk these hills seemed to be intimidating and brooding over Kulgam.

Next morning after completing my official chores as I was having tea back in the rest house and contemplating about the return journey Ganjoo asked me whether I would like to take a shot at Aharbal Falls. I had heard of Aharbal Falls in 1957 but we could not make it convenient to visit it, Ganjoo said it was very close – across the River over which there was no bridge. I was reluctant to go as I did not want the car to wade through the water. But he convinced me saying the river had very little water and he offered to go to the midstream to direct me. Reluctantly I agreed. Ganjoo walked upto the midstream and showed me the water was as high as his uncle. I put the car on low gear and drove into the river. It wasn’t exactly a cake walk. The Heralds used to be low slung three box cars and hence lots of stones and pebbled hit its bottom. But I made it and then we drove on green grass close to where the fall was hitting the ground

It was a fantastic pastoral scene I was witness to as we crept as close as we cold to the fall. The mossy dark hills from top of which the water was gushing out in a cascade were spectacular in the evening sun. Somewhere in the distance there was a white capped snow-covered peak shining in the sunshine below turquoise blue sky and down below my red Herald with its beautiful sharp lines looked stunning on the grassy green ground with the white sheep grazing nonchalantly nearby. We pottered around for some time and rued the absence of a camera to capture the beautiful sights. The next best thing I could do was to internalize the whole scene so that the visuals remained etched In my memory. The Aharbal Fall was of impressive proportions – the water cascades down about 150 ft in torrent making a big splash on the ground the surroundings of which were as beautiful as nature could make them. A fantastic sight!

We returned to the rest house just as dusk was falling. I had no words to thank Ganjoo for initiating this remarkable outing. He had endeared himself to me and so I asked him to accompany me. He used to have his family at Srinagar and he agreed to take the trip back home with me.

Our next halt was Pulwama which was about 50 Kilometres away. The road was as everywhere in Kashmir picturesque. What was more, one drove literally under the shadows of Peer Panjal.  Kashmir was yet to develop and hence vehicular traffic was negligible. It was a pleasure to drive on generally good roads. As one didn’t have to bother about the traffic one could take in the natural beauty on two sides.

Pulwama town until then had only a municipal committee and the surroundings offered little by way of attraction for a visitor. As the town was small our outfit too was small. As I was looking through the documents a call came through from my boss Director P&T Jammu  & Kashmir. He wanted some Delicious apples which Pulwama was famous for. In fact, Pulwama was known for its apples and was also known as the rice bowl of the state.

Our people told us about the best Delicious grower and we headed towards him. This was my first ever visit to an apple orchard and it was fascinating. The sweet fragrance of apples permeated the orchard and the red apples hanging from branches in bunches looked beautiful. The grower accompanied us and took us to the tree which produces the best apples, and would you believe, he charged us just Rs. 20 for 5 Kgs of apples?

I understand that old apple trees have since been axed as their productivity declined with age. The district now is strongly into growing high-density apple trees as suggested by Italian collaborators who claim that the productivity would improve several times over. The beginnings have been promising. Perhaps, in a few years time the state will flood the entire country with apples grown by the high-density Italian method.

We covered the 20 kilometres to Shopian in less than an hour. It is at a higher elevation and hence colder than Pulwama or Kulgam. It is a historical town in as much as it was the entry point into Kashmir via what was known as the Mogul Road which Emperor Akbar is supposed to have taken to visit Kashmir. This road fell into disuse once the Banihal Cart Road gained in importance as the only access to the Valley. The Mogul Road is now being revived so that another route becomes available relatively free from landslides and other obstructions.

 A night’s stop and we hit the road again, this time for Srinagar. I covered Kulgam, Pulwama and Shopian, the three places which have currently become very turbulent. Militants – foreign or domestic – frequently attack the Police or the policemen. Kidnappings and snatching of arms from the security establishments are a matter of daily occurrence. Instigated by the so-called Separatists, school-going children come out in large numbers to pelt rocks at the security forces. The atmosphere is vitiated and the area has been converted into killing fields. Killings of terrorists, security establishments or the common people continue unabated. One does not know when and where it will lead Kashmir to. For an outsider the killings look meaningless as nothing is going to be gained by bloodshed - certainly, not the heavenly peace and tranquility that I witnessed in these areas half a century ago.

*Photo from internet

Destinations :: Brussels

http://www.bagchiblog.blogspot.com

A bunch of daffodils

After qualifying for the Indian Foreign Service my nephew was posted in Brussels as one of his first foreign postings. What was important for us was that he had been allotted a two bed-roomed furnished apartment that was located in the area known as Churchill. It was good and well connected. More importantly, to have a place to stay without shelling out foreign exchange in a foreign land and that too in Europe was something great. We made use of that opportunity to roam around a bit in and around Brussels.

Brussels is, as numerous European towns are, no-nonsense and functional. It wasn’t a great tourist destination and tourism packages would hardly even mention Brussels on their itineraries. Nonetheless, it was great to be in Brussels – close to what is known as Flanders where Indians had fought two World Wars on behalf of the British Imperialists – centenary of the First World War (1914-18) is being celebrated this year.

Brussels, like any other European town, has plenty of, shall we say, historical baggage. Some of it is pleasant and some not quite – one of which is that it is a linguistically divided country. The northern region

The City Hall

, perhaps the biggest chunk of the country and more prosperous too, is Flemish, i.e. Dutch speaking and the rest is bi-lingual. In fact, Brussels now is multilingual with English spoken largely in diplomatic and commercial circles. But then there is no divide as we see elsewhere and all is hunky dory. Although a little complicated, yet it should be mentioned that Brussels Capital Region is located in the central portion and is part of both, the French and the Flemish communities and is separate from the Flemish and French-speaking Walloon regions in the south.

That Brussels was not interesting enough could be fathomed from my brother’s disinclination to talk about it. He was a frequent visitor to Brussels when he was heading the Trade Policy Division in the Ministry of

Flower Market at Grand Place

Commerce. He had to go there every month, sometimes even twice a month but he was never euphoric about his visits. We too did not expect much but it was Europe, after all,

Ours, as usual, was a budget tour. Hence we took a cheap flight direct to Brussels with a stop at Bucharest. Many would not have heard of the Tarom Airline which Rumanian state flies. It seems, it stopped its flights to Delhi after a few years. Hence travel agencies do not make a mention of it. It was a convenient flight which one would climb into at night in Delhi and get deposited at Brussels in the morning,

Probably, because it was a cheap flight it was a kind of favoured airline

The City Museum

for the human traffickers. We were, therefore, subjected to a grueling session at the airport and the immigration authorities were convinced of our bonafides only after they spoke to our nephew who was working in the Indian Embassy. Surprisingly they did not take into account our age which was pretty apparent from our appearance. We came to know later that illegal immigrants would frequently be apprehended at Brussels

trying to get into Europe or move on to UK or the USA.

Churchill was a leafy area and it was a pleasure to walk on the sidewalks. Spring was on its onset and blooms were everywhere in public areas. The sidewalks had roadside trees (which Bhopal Municipal Corporation does not seem to believe in) around the stems of which

Grand Place

one could see in circular beds blooms of daffodils and many other varieties of flowering shrubs. The central verge had the tram lines but also had flowers blooming. We had a stop of trams right in front of the house. Moving around was therefore convenient.

 The trams would take us to the Brussels Midi station which is the largest railway station in Brussels. There are trains that connect it to Brussels North and Brussels South stations as also many European cities. It is served by international high speed trains like those of TGV, Thalys etc. Since the Brussels metros and trams have terminals in Midi one finds the whole thing very convenient for local commutes or for intercity or international travel.

As already stated, there is not much to see in Brussels but the statement is not entirely correct. There is one place that is virtually unique, and it is the Grand Place or the Grot Markt (Great Market in Dutch). It is a huge square adjudged one of the best in Europe beating the Red Square of Moscow. Like everything else in Europe it too has a history stretching back to a millennium when it was a marsh and daily markets used to be

Notre Dam

held here. Over the decades and centuries it was built, destroyed and re-built until the 19^th Century it moved away from its hap hazard construction to a more organised form. The Grand Place emerged so beautiful that it eventually was made a World Heritage Site. It has the Town Hall and the Brussels Museum which once was a palace of the feudals and many other constructions in Gothic and baroque styles. Because of its touristy character it has been

pedestrianised while vehicular traffic is allowed in the neighbouring

streets which retain their respective names on the basis of the callings of the shopkeepers. One of the more famous and historic streets is Rue des Bucherie where you get delectable stuff to eat.

Another feature, which we did not see as we came away before it took place, is laying floral carpet on the floor of the Grand Place. Innumerable flowers are used to create a carpet of colourful flowers making the place very attractive. That, one would say, compensates Brussels for its deficiencies in regard to absence of places of tourist interest.

Royal Palace

On one of the side streets close to the Grand Place is virtually the symbol of Brussels. It is Manneken Pis – a statue of young boy urinating into a fountain. It is more than three centuries old and has symbolized Brussels for generations. There have been attempts to steal it and there have also been attempts to dress it in various costumes. Every such attempt failed. Indicating their open-mindedness Belgian artists have since installed massive statues to outrage the sensibilities of the locals as well as tourists. Obviously, it was like taking matters too far and hence there has been resistance to this sort of extreme liberties. Some Belgians say these statues are meant to outrage the tourists whom they do not seem to like. These might be taken down soon.

There is a Notre Dam in Brussels too. It is the church of the Blessed Lady of Sablon, a Catholic Church located in the centre of the town. Built

At the Grand Place

around the 15^th Century it has a Gothic exterior and highly decorated interiors. We could not spend much time thereand were therefore not satisfied by our visit.

About 20 kilometres away is the war field of Waterloo where the last of the Napoleonic Wars was fought. Here the army of Napoleon was (narrowly) defeated by the

War field of Waterloo

English and Prussian armies. There is not much to see here except a mound known as the Lion’s Mound topped by a lion’s image. Waterloo is famous for ending the series of Napoleonic Wars as also the Napoleonic French Empire. It was another feather in the cap of Arthur Wellesley, !st Duke of Wellington.

Kashmir 50 years ago :: 1 :: Diwali at Prang

http://www.bagchiblog.blogspot.com

Diwali was celebrated the other day with lavish purchases but muted celebratory fireworks. The subdued celebrations were due to the terrible atmospheric pollution that prevails in Delhi. The air there has become virtually un-breathable, visibility reduced to a few hundred metres with the sun making a disappearing act.

My mind, more agile than my body, swiftly travelled down the broad memory lane, latching on promptly to this thread of Diwali and traversed half a century to 1968 when I was posted in Srinagar. It was a pleasant Diwali morning and surprisingly very cold. It was I think 20^th October but it was very cold rather prematurely. It was a holiday and I had no worries of dressing formally for office. It was going to be my first winter in Kashmir anyway. Like a good child I donned my woollen socks and a woollen pullover and, after breakfast, went straight under the quilts. The glazed windows of my bed room on two sides were tightly shut yet the cold breeze seemed to penetrate them without any let or hindrance. Lying on the bed I could see the canopies of the trees in the yard swaying in a rather strong breeze. I was looking out at them through the glazed windows as random thoughts flitted through my mind.

 I was lost in my thoughts so completely that sounds of steps on the wooden staircase outside the tightly shut door shook me and out of my reverie. The door opened and in walked Hindal Tyyabji (IAS 1965), a very good friend who was with the J&K Government. He was four batches junior to me. He wanted me to get up and get dressed as he wanted to picnic with some of our common friends at Prang a few miles away. I pleaded with him that it was too cold and, besides I was short of cash. He would have none of it and said whatever cash I had could be used for buying gas for my vehicle - a 1962 Standard Herald. Knowing that he had legged it all the way from his house in Jawahar Nagar about 3 or 4 miles away I didn’t have the heart to say a stern “no” to him.

 Hindal used to be a great organizer. He had everything mapped up in his mind and shot off to buy provisions. In those days Srinagar was different and far more tolerant than it is today. Everything used to be available then without any reservation – from pork sausages to other non-vegetarian tinned stuff and liquor. Hindal went and bought a handful of things and by the time he came back two other friends, Udipto Ghosh, again of the J&K Government, an IAS probationer (now unfortunately no more) and Jyoti Mathur, Dy. Accountant General with the Accountant General of J&K, had also turned up. Apparently it was a well conceived plan and Hindal seemed to have planned the entire outing in his mind and had informed them before he came to me.

I suppose, by !! AM we were on our way to Prang which was around 30 Kms. away in the district of Ganderbal. Being a holiday, there was not much of traffic. We made it well under an hour. Hindal had already decided on the place where we would halt by the side of the River Sindh. We stopped next to a grassy plot and Hindal quickly moved towards the boot, took the beer bottles out and went across the road to the river bank to submerge them in the deliciously cold water taking care that they did not literally go down the river with its flow. Others got busy in making arrangements for all of us to relax.

Fifty years ago Kashmir used to be virtually a paradise and the landscape, whichever direction one happened to look, used to be captivating. Population was low and vehicular traffic used to be scarce, more so, on the highways. A stray omnibus or two, seemingly losing their way, would occasionally appear on the scene messing up the view. Every turn on the road would offer a new vista, more beautiful than the one that just went by. Greenery and, flowing streams by the sides of the roads shrouded under the canopy of weeping willows took the breath away.

I remember when once I was going to Anantnag I came across, after Pampore, an astonishing scene. The fields were yellow with the mustard crop, above them were the green trees at an elevation and still further up were the blue hills capped by the snow-clad white mountains. That was not all; all these were stacked up one over the other as if arranged mindfully, as if knowing that the firmament above was azure blue. It was such a dramatic and amazing sight that I stopped my vehicle and parked it on the roadside to take in the incredible view. I think I remember the scene so well even after half a century because I stopped and took it all in to carry it with me for the years that have gone by and perhaps I will carry it during the years that are yet to come.

Kashmir was different then on another count. There was no militancy although 1968 was only three years after the 1965 Pakistan choreographed war. There were, however, some elements who were against the presence of Indians and the Indian Army. Their opposition was mostly manifested by writings on the walls. There was no violence. I recall having once walked back past a winter midnight from Mathur’s house in Jawahar Nagar without any mishap. Only some stray dogs kept barking at me.

Prang was supposed to be a remarkably beautiful place on the way to Sonmarg. It was said that it was a nature-lovers’ delight. I have always held that hills with water bodies, together, make nature exceedingly beautiful. Only we, humans, should know how to maintain them in their pristine state. The place Hindal had chosen offered a delightful view of the river and the fields beyond with the mountains seemingly brooding over them. One couldn’t really take one’s eyes off the sight as it was so enchanting and fascinating. In those unmatched surroundings we gossiped, snacked on what Hindal had bought over bottles of ice-cold beer, thanks to the River Sindh,

After lounging around for a few hours we made our way back to Srinagar. It was a day well spent, out in the lap of nature at a place where nature could be ravishingly beautiful. Thanks to Hindal, it was a terrific Diwali – and that too in Kashmir.

*Photo from internet

Our Life, Our Times :: 26 :: Defiance of Apex Court verdicts

http://www.bagchiblog.blogspot.com

What is currently being witnessed is total defiance of the decisions/orders given by the Supreme Court. While the Apex Court takes its own time to examine a matter threadbare to arrive at the bottom of the problem to look for a solution and then gives its well considered decision it is the political class that tries its best to nullify it. They do not try to do so by taking the legal route available to them. Instead, they try to create political opposition against it. Rallies and demonstrations, more often than not violent, are used to neutralise the decisions of the Apex Court. This is nothing but high-handedness of political parties which, having failed to convince the benches of multiple judges of the Supreme Court, decide to carry through their point of view by sheer mobocracy and its power of muscles and vocal chords. A few illustrative cases are mentioned below.

The judgment of the Supreme Court in respect of entry of women in the Sabarimala shrine is a glaring example in this regard. On 28^th September last a five judge Bench of the Supreme Court lifted the ban on entry of women of menstrual age in the shrine. While the Kerala Government refused to file a review petition the BJP and Congress parties held rallies and demonstrations against the judgment. While the judgment trumped the tradition, politics was trying to nullify rationality. But then BJP’s far right is upholder of tradition and is against all kinds of rational thinking in so far as Hindu religion is concerned. Its fringe elements have gone and even killed rationalists and, from all evidences, were preparing to kill some more if they chanced upon an opportunity.

But, the Congress party’s opposition to the judgment is somewhat inexplicable unless it is viewed from a political perspective. It seems, BJP got a headstart in consolidating Hindu votes by siding with the conservative Hindu opposition to the judgment. For Congress to support the Hindu conservatism, though seemingly retrograde, seemed to be pragmatic as otherwise BJP would run away with all the Hindu votes. It was politics at its worst that dictated the Congress action, in the process, trying to label the Supreme Court as the fall guy.

Strangely, while the Congress has been blaming the BJP for the murders of rationalists it seems to be averse to go with the cold logic and reason of the five-judge bench of the Supreme Court. The Kerala government of the Left Democratic Front has, however, stood firm in not submitting a review petition despite severe pressure on it to do so. At the same time, it could not enforce the Court’s judgment as several women aged between 10 and 50 years were forcibly prevented from getting to the shrine. The protesters not only stopped them at the foot of the sacred hill, they were also intimidated and threatened of bodily harm if they tried to enter the shrine. A judgment that was rational at its core was not allowed to be implemented by politicians.

Another such matter was recently highlighted when as many as 23 lions of the Gir National Park died, some of them of infection of Canine Distemper Virus (CDV). Gir of late had been overpopulated and some of the lions had had to migrate out of the protected area. Repeated reports were received of lions being sighted even as far as in coastal Kathawad, for example in Diu.

 The population of lions in Gir seems to have exploded. When the Supreme Court handed down its decision in 2013 to move some of the Asiatic lions to Kuno Palpur in Madhya Pradesh their numbers were around 450. Now some sources say that they have crossed the 600 mark. Perhaps that is why they are moving out of the protected area and at some places are sharing spaces with feral dogs infected with CDV.

With the death of as many as 11 lions on account of CDV the matter relating to the translocating some lions to Madhya Pradesh has again gained traction after five years of the judgment of the Apex Court. One cannot deny that in this matter it is the Gujarat Government that has been the spoilsport The court had clearly stated that it was not a matter of lions being “members of family” in Gujarat and nor was it a matter of Gujarat “asmita” (pride), it was pure and simple a matter of protecting a species that was teetering at the edge of a precipice. An infection of severe kind that once overtook the African lion could wipe out the entire population at Gir, hence the order for moving some of the lions to Kuno Palpur.

This is a strange case where a state government has been stalling the implementation of orders of the highest court. The proposition for shifting some of the lions to Kuno was made more than two decades ago after which various environmental norms were checked and whatever was wanting was even provided. The MP government made the Kuno Palpur Sanctuary fit enough to receive the lions. It shifted people from 24 villages some of whom were unhappy with the land that they got in exchange as it was rocky and dry unlike what they had in Kuno. Yet, all the troubles of the villagers would seem to have been for no reason as relocation of the lions never materialized on account of the intransigence of the Gujarat Government that was headed by Narendra Modi. Later the Central Ministry of Environment and Climate Change soft-pedalled implementation of the Supreme Court, presumably, under his direction as he later became the Prime Minister. This case exemplifies how politicians play around with the orders of the Apex Court as also the lives of the poor villagers besides having no regard for the future of a rare species which is at the cusp of extinction. What they are after is only votes.

There is another vital matter in so far as our democracy is concerned which was adjudicated upon by the Apex Court as far back as 2006 but its decision remains unimplemented A petition filed by one Prakash Singh and others had made submissions for Police reforms as the departments in India were being run as political fiefdoms under the antiquated law of 1861. The result has been running the Police by governments at the centre and in the states under a law that was enacted by the colonial masters and had no element of democratic traditions built into it. Prakash Singh, one of the petitioners, had as a former director general of police experienced use of the Police Force for the vested interests of the ruling political class. Whether it is investigations into crime, transfers and postings of police officers or their appointments against sensitive posts or even appointments at the very top level of the Police administration the political class always keeps its own interests in view. Law and order has therefore would seem to have been hijacked in favour of those who happen to be in power

.

 The much needed change needs to be ushered in but it has to be ushered in by the politicians who have much to lose were they to do so. Hence despite a lapse of more than a decade after the judgment and a plethora of reports of committees and commissions at the central and state levels the situation remains as it was when the writ petition was filed.

It is needless to emphasise that the orders of the Apex Court need to be viewed with respect and any consistent disregard of them would make our democracy vulnerable to oligarchy and the professions of democratic norms in the Constitution will remain unfulfilled. People have to remain alert and prevent the situation from crossing the tipping point.

28^th October 2018

Photo ; from internet