Kashmir 50 years ago :: 11 :: Tulips and Daffodils

http://www.bagchiblog.blogspot.com

We were assembled at my place, around four or five of us on a Sunday. My boss was also there, as were my friends from the local government. Talking of this and that we landed on the topic of flowers. It was the month of July and the Mughal gardens of Srinagar were blooming to their glory. They were a riot of colours. In the midst of the conversation on flowers somebody happened to say that surprisingly though Kashmir had temperate-like climate yet it did not have the exotic flowers like tulips and daffodils.

I butted in and said tulips were very much there, though of indifferent genus. I had seen them in the flower beds of the Anantnag Circuit House. I had found them somewhat of emaciated and stunted, not like the tulips of Netherlands I had seen in photographs – large and well-fed, so to say. Obviously the Netherlands flowers, exported as they were even then, were rich in nutrients and the very look of them suggested that they were very well taken care of. Even the tulips that were grown in my compound were like the ones of Anantnag Circuit House. They looked like the country cousins of the ones grown in Netherlands and yet I never discouraged the gardener from spending his precious efforts from tending them. He used to say that the quality of the seeds is what matters.

As for daffodils I had till then not seen any, i.e. I did not know how they looked like. Perhaps it was a very common spring flower in the West or was not photogenic enough. Or perhaps it was not considered exotic enough. Tulips were considered romantic and a young man would go out of the way to procure a tulip bunch to gift to his sweetheart. There was no such romantic attribute attached with daffodils. Their fame originated from William Wordsworth’s poem “I wandered lonely as a cloud”, perhaps the most famous poetic composition in English language.

When daffodils were mentioned my boss said he had them in his small garden and said he would inform me when they started blooming. Some months later one morning I got a call from him saying that the daffodils were in bloom and that I should go over to his place to see them. Curious as I was, I trotted down to his place in the evening. As He showed me the flowers the words “oh, hell” escaped from my mouth. It was so disappointing to see them as I too had them in my yard, only neither the gardener knew their name and nor did I.

 I remember they were pale yellow and droopy, nothing like what I saw years later in Europe – nice and healthy, and bright golden yellow. On the fields near Kukenhoff, near Brussels, they were growing wild and, yes, they were “dancing in the breeze”, as Wordsworth saw them. Mesmerising as they were, one felt like getting a handful of them but in Europe flowers blooming in the wild are not plucked; they are allowed to bloom and wither.

Curiously, none ever mentioned narcissus as it was seen in profusion in Kashmir growing wild. Known by a more exotic name in Urdu, that is Nargis, it has its own admirers. They are off-white in colour with yellow petals in the centre. They are deliciously fragrant to make any woman of sense happy. Their genus is the same as daffodils; some even say that while daffodils are male narcissusi are females.

All that was more than 50 years ago. Now Srinagar boasts of a massive tulip garden below the Zabarvan Hills along the Dal Lake that offers colourful  flowers  in a 30 hectares garden. Curiously, the garden came up during the height of militancy, giving a good turn to Kashmiri tourism - one very rare positive from the violence of militancy. The garden has 1.5 million plants and 48 species of flowers. Every year something new is added and flowers like daffodils, narcissusi, hyacinths, etc. are planted to provide an ornamental appearance to the garden. This is one asset that is going to pay for itself and Kashmir Tourism couldn’t be happier about it.

*Photo from internet

Memories of an ordinary Indian :: 24 :: Training at Neemach

http://www.bagchiblog.blogspot.com

Ochtorrnoley Hall, Neemuch

After about eight months of training in various offices I was asked to proceed to Neemuch, a town in western Madhya Pradesh. Neemuch used to be in Gwalior State before the state of Madhya Bharat was formed and later was merged in 1956 into Madhya Pradesh, a much bigger entity. I had to go to Neemuch for on-the-job training as a head postmaster. It was supposed to be a smaller head office with around ten sub offices and about twenty-odd clerks and telegraphists. It was what was known as a Combined Office as it also accepted, transmitted and delivered telegrams. It was in effect a Central Telegraph Office (CTO) for the townsfolk as the telegraph traffic was insufficient to justify an independent CTO. It was in true sense a post & telegraph office of the Post & Telegraph Department.

It was a British era building that saw some extensions on its two flanks. In one of the flanks the telegraph branch was accommodated and in the other there were three rooms that were vacant and were given to me to live out my two-month tenure.

Neemuch was a peculiar town with a cantonment (chhavni), a bazaar area and the area around the railway station. Each was located away from the other two in three different directions. In the middle of them all was the Post & Telegraph Office and a very ancient looking club house. It was quite a formidable building and must have seen better days decades ago when the British were around. To me it looked haunted, more so at night when everything would quieten down with an occasional distant bark of a dog. At night it was frightening indeed with hardly any soul for some miles around except a lone telegraphist at the other end of the building. The two structures were literally in “splendid isolation” but during the day time the P&T office would see a lot of hustle and bustle.

With opium growing in abundance in the district Neemuch is stated to have Asia’s largest Opium Alkaloid factory. Actually Neemuch today is a district town but back then it was a tahsil of Mandsaur District. Mandsaur was always known for opium that was grown all around in the district. Neemuch has another distinction. It was the place where Central Reserve Police Force (CRPF) came into being. Today it is a formidable force being used against militants of Kashmir and the Naxals in Odisha, Chhattisgarh, Andhra Pradesh and Telangana.

My Neemuch office mostly had young boys with a smattering of over-forty men. All of them were generally nice and were, perhaps, extra nice to me as I too was young. They also were aware that I was superior in rank to their superintendent who was based at Ujjain. They were helpful and were eager to pass on their knowledge ungrudgingly to me.

They also took care I didn't feel bored. Two of them one evening took me out for a movie in which Shashi Kapoor, now dead and gone, was introduced. Its name doesn't readily come to my mind. On a Sunday they organised a trip to Chittorgarh in Rajasthan. It was two hours away by the metre gauge train that ran up to Ajmer. They carried with them delicious home-cooked food with them. Chittorgarh Fort is of huge proportions and moving around on foot made us all very tired. We sat inside a temple and consumed the delicious stuff that they had brought On our way back we saw the descendents of those who had left Chittorgarh after the legendary Rana Pratap was defeated by Emperor Akbar, vowing never to return until the principality came back to its rightful owner. It was Pandit Nehru who had them rounded up and brought them to their own Chittorgarh Fort, homeless as they were.

There was another outing when Mr. Munshi, the superintendent based at Ujjain, arrived for a routine visit. I had known him for some time when he used to be superintendent at Bhopal. That must have been in 1959 or 1960. A very amiable person, he used to be fond of good things of life. On a Sunday he asked me to join him for a picnic a little away from Neemuch on a river bank. It was beautiful place, lush green with the gurgling river flowing by. The person who took us to the site was known to Munshi. He was carrying a 12 bore gun. The idea, apparently, was that this person, who was an expert in shooting the fish as they surfaced, would catch some this way and cook them over a fire raised with dry twigs. As it turned out the breeze gathered in strength forcing the fish to avoid the surface. This also forced our fishing expert to put aside his gun and use, instead, his fishing line and baits etc. which he had thoughtfully brought with him. He did catch enough small-sized fish for the requirements of three of us. The way he cooked the spiced-up fish over the fire was fantastic. He brought all his Muslim culinary expertise into play and provided us with a delectable repast out in the midst of nature.

Before expiry of my two months term I was asked to report to the Postal Training Centre at Saharanpur near Dehra Dun. The night I was to catch the train the entire office staff said they would accompany me to the railway station. I sent my luggage on a tonga and walked about three kilometres to the station with the staff. It was quite a crowd that walked up to the station. Two of the boys said they would accompany me to Ratlam, the junction from where I was to catch the Dehra Dun mail for Saharanpur at dead of the night. They did that with alacrity and that was a big relief for me. I couldn’t thank them enough for their voluntary effort.

The word dead reminds me of the question one of the staff members, Raman Lal Gor (yes, I still remember the name after 56 years), asked me whether I had any unusual experience in the room that I used to stay in. I told him I did feel a presence in the room soon after I occupied it - a kind of noise one makes when he breathes heavily. The night I heard it for the first time it was strong or so loud that it woke me up. I got up and looked out of the window, even went out on the street to check whether there was anybody or a stray dog sleeping around. I went to the untenanted portion and the dark area where the dry toilet was located but there was nobody around. The place was as usual deathly quiet. Finding nothing unusual I came back and switched off the light, went off to sleep. I was again woken up by the same noise. This time I checked under the cot but there was nothing. When the same thing repeated the third time I switched on the light finding it rather eerie and tried to sleep. Thereafter I would keep the light on right through the night. I narrated this to Raman Lal and then only he told me that the apparition of one earlier postmaster who had died in that room was seen by post office workers one evening when they were still at work. That I escaped without harm, I thought, was quite fortuitous. Raman Lal added that till then none had come to any harm.

Neemuch was my first experience of working in an office. And it was good and I felt good, more so because of the unreserved love and affection extended to me so generously by the members of the staff. It was such an auspicious beginning that somehow persisted right through my career during which I collected a tremendous lot of love and affection especially from the staff at the places that were reckoned as my field postings.

Bhopal Notes :: 73 :: Digvijay’s Vision Document

http://www.bagchiblog.blogspot.com

Digvijay Singh, former chief minister of Madhya Pradesh and now a candidate for the forthcoming Parliamentary elections from Bhopal has issued a vision document for development of Bhopal. The document promises a string of development works which include development of the state capital on the lines of National Capital Region under which satellite towns Gurugram and NOIDA developed and prospered, increasing income of people, enhancement of job opportunities, Narmada water in every home, security of women and children. These apart, Digvijay Singh promises to develop the Old City and conserve the city’s heritage including the iconic Upper Lake.

The very fact that Digvijay Singh has had to plan for development of the state capital is indicative of its under-development, even backwardness. Digvijay Singh lost the position of chief minister fifteen years ago and before that he was chief minister for two terms of five years each. During those ten years practically nothing was done for the state capital. The city was in such dire straits that the quality of life in it deteriorated alarmingly prompting concerned citizens to initiate joint action to reverse the trend. That is when some of the intellectuals and concerned citizens of the city decided on constituting a pressure group, informal though it might be, to pressurize the government to pay attention to citizens’ welfare. Bhopal Citizens’ Forum was what came into being with a handful of people who were deeply concerned about the declining standards of civic administration in Bhopal. They joined hands together and started highlighting the issues that touched the lives of the people.

In this connection, I am inclined to mention only one issue that was taken up by Digvijay Singh during his tenure as chief minister and that was the Bhoj Wetland Project for conservation of Upper and Lower lakes of Bhopal. This was something tangible that was attempted but because of the government’s lackadaisical way of functioning the project could not be taken to its logical conclusion.

As the waters of the Bhopal lakes, which were earlier consumed without being treated, progressively got polluted on account of anthropogenic pressures efforts to improve their quality was an ongoing process. Accordingly in 1995 a project with the assistance of Japanese Bank of International Cooperation was initiated for conservation of the Bhoj Wetland comprising the Upper and Lower Lakes and their catchments. The Bhoj Wetland Project ran for 9 years instead of the mandated 5 and yet the project authorities could not complete many of the sub projects and an amount of approximately Rs. 100 crores (out of Rs. 267 crore) remained unspent.

The Project was largely a failure for reasons that can be attributed only to the local state government which was overseeing the project and because of the utterly loose administration hardly anything worthwhile was got done. For nine long years that the project was made to run there was precious little to show as gains.

Similar neglect of the vital water bodies was witnessed during the regimes that followed. Though the chief minister kept assuring people that as long as he was around he would not allow the lakes to come to any harm. He even got the Centre for Environmental Planning and Technology, a reputed environmental institution of Ahmedabad, to study and report ways and means to conserve the Wetland. As the report failed to meet with the political requirements of the government of the day it was never published. Things stand where they were and, in fact, the condition of the Lake, which remains the drinking water source for 40% of the city’s population, continues to deteriorate.

It must, however, be stated that the regime of Digvijay Singh was the worst. It paid hardly any attention to the Wetland or to the Project that had been negotiated with the Japanese Government for financing it. Curiously, he is now again talking in his Vision Document about conservation of the Upper Lake. The past experience of people of Bhopal with his rule does not inspire any confidence. One tends to believe that it is all only talk signifying practically nothing.

The regimes of Digvijay Singh and Shivraj Singh Chauhan failed to make any concrete difference to the quality of the waters of the Lake. According to a study of the Environmental Planning and Coordination Organisation, it is estimated that 9.82 million gallons of sewage enter the Lake per day and intensive chemical agriculture promotes runoff from rural catchments into the lake affecting the quality of its waters. In point of fact what should have been done by the Bhoj Wetland Project has remained undone till today and the Lake is now a pond of dirty, contaminated water. Researchers who have had occasion to research the Lake give it around another 50 or 60 years beyond which, it is predicted, it would cease to be fit for human use. The CEPT has also given it approximately half a century and has said unless measures are taken to conserve it, it would become something like a dirty large-sized pond.

 It is such a pity that for the past 25 years regimes came and regimes went but none of these could do anything significant to improve the water quality of the Lake. A millennium old lake created for the benefit of the people seems to have been ruined by the negligence and apathy of supposedly modern administrators.

Digvijay Singh could, perhaps, lend support to his son who is now the minister for urban administration and development. Apparently far better qualified, having been educated in Columbia University, he would perhaps be able to deliver where the father failed.

Memories of an ordinary Indian ::23 :: departmental training

http://www.bagchiblog.blogspot.com

(I had separately recorded "Reminiscences" of Mussourie in 2011 which were published in the souvenir brought out by the LBS Academy of Adninistration, Mussourie on the 50th anniversary of the Batch)

At Mussourie on conclusion of the Foundational Course I was asked to report to the Post Master General, Central Circle at Nagpur. I had been allotted to the Indian Postal Service, a Service I didn't want to be in. My second brother was already working in it posted as he was in the deep south at Trivandrum. On his advice I did not sit for the two higher papers to qualify for the IAS. I wanted to be in the Railways and had given top preferences to two Railways Services. Unfortunately I was found to be too lean for the Railways and hence I was given my third preference. 

Since I was from Gwalior I was allotted to the Central Circle which used to exercise its jurisdiction over that part of Madhya Pradesh. With the Circle Headquarters located at Nagpur I headed there after a brief stay with my parents who were at Bhopal with my siblings. A batch-mate of my brother, RK Saiyed, who later became Secretary Posts and adviser to Governor J&K, had come to receive me at the Nagpur station. He took me to a hotel in what appeared to be a residential-cum- commercial area.

Nagpur had its hey days when it used to be the capital of the erstwhile Central Provinces which used to comprise Vidarbha region of Maharashtra and Mahakaushal and Chhattisgarh areas of Madhya Pradesh. It lost all its importance with the reorganisation of states in 1956 and creation of Madhya Pradesh with Bhopal as its capital.

 Those who have seen Nagpur of today wouldn't be able to imagine the kind of sleepy and under-developed place it was half a century ago. On my visit last December I found it to be a bustling place with thriving business and industry. Large number of residential and commercial high rises have come up some of which also house starred hotels. A number of fly-overs have been constructed  enhancing the ease of commuting in the town. It was a decent-sized town earlier but it has expanded further. The only means of public transport earlier was the cycle-rickshaw which continues to be around but it has become far less ubiquitous. Cycle-rickshaws have got tremendous competition from auto rickshaws and a number of taxi services. Bicycles, earlier the mainstay of commuting for the middle classes have been replaced by two and four wheelers. No wonder, traffic jams are as prolific as in tier I and tier II cities.

 The largely functional small airport has now been enlarged and it gets a number of flights from and for all four directions. Iy has also become an international airport. All in all there has been a sea change and the city seems to have shaken off its inertia and diffidence and appears far more prosperous than before.

Nagpur GPO where the office of PMG was located on the first floor above the post office is an elegant British era sand stone building with expansive grounds around it and a well-maintained garden in front. Comparatively speaking, PMG's office was a small outfit with an officer in the Sr. Administrative Grade, two in Junior Administrative Grade (a director posts and a director telegraphs - the term telecom was yet to emerge in the general parlance), three Sr. Time Scale officers and a number of Group B officers despite the fact that the circle exercised jurisdiction over the postal systems of Vidarbha region of Maharashtra, Rajasthan and the then undivided Madhya Pradesh.

On PMG's advice I soon gave up the hotel accommodation and came over to the MLAs rest house which was mostly vacant as the Assembly was not in session. It was affordable and good. The only peculiarity about it was that its architect took the term "attached bath" too literally and provided only an attached bath with no toilet bowl, Indian or of Western style. He provided a separate block of Indian style toilets a few feet away from my room.

There were two MLAs rest houses - the second one was converted into the Income Tax Training College and hostel. It was good for me as all the probationers of Income Tax Service of my batch were there in the hostel. They were a happy lot and it was a pleasure to be with them. Their hostel became my regular haunt every evening even though I had to move out of the MLAs rest house. It became unaffordable as the Maharashtra Government suddenly raised the rent from Rs 3/- per day to Rs. 6.50. Although I moved out yet I used to go there for my meals. The Andhra cook, one Mr. Nayudu had excellent culinary skills and used to dish out very good fare at very reasonable tariff.

My training commenced with attachments with the GPO, meandering down to subordinate operational office in the old part of the town, to divisional administrative offices including those of Railway Mails Service, Central Telegraph Office and the huge P & T Audit headed then only by a Sr. Deputy Accountant General.

A word about the Central Telegraph Office needs to be said in the current context of the monopoly of Information & Communications Technology in so far as communications is concerned. Half a century back telegraph, which till then had not completed a hundred years in India, was the fastest means of communication. With the advent of Information Technology telegraph has virtually been banished. In India telegraph services were discontinued in 2013. It is still being continued in a few small European countries. In 1960s we were still working on Morse instruments. Sitting on a chair a telegraphist used to tap away on the protruding button. Those days in Nagpur Anglo Indians were still around. They were more or less mainstays of the Railways and telegraph. British seemed to prefer them in these services for strategic reasons. It was fascinating to watch them sitting on a chair tapping away on the Morse instrument with a faraway look and a cigarette dangling from their mouth. There was talk of tele-printers but they were yet to be introduced in Nagpur.

In those days we had even a Jew in the service, David Solomon was the head of the Railway Mails Service (RMS) division. He spoke very good English and was a man of good humour with ready laughter. Another retired officer, another Jew, used to visit him frequently. It was he who, after giving me an interesting lecture on honesty, advised me to lead a "clean" life.

RMS today has almost disappeared from the Postal landscape. It was a vital wing of the postal system which transmitted messages physically over long distances. There were stationary offices and there were offices that ran in the trains. The work of receiving, sorting and dispatching mails – all were carried out from the mail vans that used to be hauled along with passenger coaches. In heavy sections on trunk routes entire bogies used to be designed as mail carrying and sorting vans. Basically designed by the British, RMS those days used to be more or less a carbon copy of Royal Mails of England.

A quiet town those days there was nothing much to do. I, however, had a roaring time as all the batch mates of the Income Tax Service were there and many of them were very good friends. I used to meet them practically every evening. Then my very old friend from Gwalior, Sharad Dravid, was also around working in NOGA. His father and my father were colleagues in the Victoria College, Gwalior. Sharad's father and his brothers and sisters used to visit us. Sharad used to join us at the College nets. None objected to his playing at the nets as he was very nice and decent person. At Nagpur he was given an accommodation that I found trifle isolated but he did not bother about it. He was there at Nagpur when I lost my father who had come for a stop-over but got a cardiac attack. Sharad later joined Kissan famous for jams and jellies. He never moved away from Bangalore where he got married produced that remarkable son who played cricket for India and also captained the Indian side. Once Sharad went away to Bangalore I never could meet him again as he passed away around a couple years ago. I never could meet his son or wife who, I understand, is an architect.

 My father and mother were on their way to Trivandrum where my second brother was posted. They could not make it as father got a heart attack on the day he arrived. Eventually his kidneys failed. Both for the cardiac and nephrological problems nothing could be done as the system of super-specialties was yet to develop. We had access to only GPs and best among them used to be the district civil surgeon.  He came and examined my father with a stethoscope, the only instrument then available to assess the damage done to the heart. He told me to get all the family members who were away from Nagpur as there was not much time left. I paid him his fee of the princely sum Rs. 16/- and sank into depression. It was all over within a week.

At Nagpur I happened to meet a most amazing man. BN Mukerji used to work in the GPO and was known to my second brother who, too, was a probationer at Nagpur. Those few months with Mukerji made us life-long friends. He and his wife became members of my family. When my parents came to Nagpur he helped us in every which way. He was the local chief of one of the unions when I was posted as Director in Nagpur in late 1970s but he neither used his clout as a union chief nor did he use our friendship for his advantage. This tradition was observed by him even when I was at a higher position in Mumbai and had control over the entire states of Maharashtra and Goa in mid eighties. Our association continued till both, his wife and he passed away. He died of cancer of lungs, having been a heavy smoker.

Our Life, Our Times :: 34 :: Co-alition governments do not serve general wellbeing

http://www,bagchiblog.blogpost.com

These are election times and hence perhaps it is opportune to recall what happened only less than a decade ago. The erstwhile Comptroller and Auditor General of India wrote a book “Not Just an Accountant – Diary of the Nation’s Conscience Keeper”. A revelatory book that was also described by the media as a “Brickbat Book”. The book describes how the political system was exploited to violate laws in 2G spectrum case, Krishna-Godavari gas basin contract, Commonwealth Games scam, Indian Coal Allocation Scam and the controversial purchase of aircraft for Air India putting the exchequer to a loss of several billion rupees.

All this is recent history and everyone knows that scams and controversies that accompanied the last government out of the Central Secretariat were the nemesis for the second-term Congress-led UPA Government led by Dr Manmohan Singh, a famed Economist. The voters were so overwhelmed by the unmitigated scams and loot of public money by politicians of various shades co-opted to run the coalition government that Narendra Modi, an alleged chaiwalla, romped home with a handsome majority.

In the bitter fight being fought between the two major parties for the forthcoming elections name-calling of the opposition candidate has been a common factor. While the Congress Chief calls Modi a “chor” (thief), the compliment is returned by Modi in equal measure. In almost every election rally Rahul Gandhi contrives to get to an occasion to brand Modi a thief. Likewise, Modi attacks the “family” – meaning thereby the Gandhi family and recalls all the alleged cases of corruption (and there are many of them) in which the Family was involved one way or the other.

While there is no apparent reason to treat the integrity of the prime minister as suspect, there is enough number of papers which have linked Gandhi Family in corruption cases and the consequential money trail leading to the Family. Rahul Gandhi himself was allegedly involved in a foreign exchange case when he was found to have had in unauthorised possession $160000 at Boston Airport. Reports say it was the intervention of Atal Bihari Vajpayee, the then Prime Minister that saved him, otherwise he could have gone behind the bars for an estimated 78 years. Then, of course, there are the Mitrokhin diaries that discuss the wheeling and dealing by the Family.

In this connection, it seems to be worthwhile to recall the interview of Vinod Rai, former Comptroller & Auditor General of India by Ritu Sarin of Indian Express wherein Rai was literally grilled. When told that the reasons for writing the book was to defend the attacks on CAG for being partisan and for delivering a blow to a  slowing  economy, Rai countered by saying he would have in that case written the book soon after retirement. He wrote the book to remove the misgivings from the minds of younger auditors who were getting demoralized by the way their reports were being treated.

When told that his attacks on Manmohan Singh were direct and that the Congress was calling it motivated he replied that as for the Prime Minister he said all the “information and papers” did reach his desk and in the 2G and Coal Mining case the ministers in-charge kept him informed then how could he say he wanted transparency?

Further Vinod Rai blamed the Prime Minister for taking a “distanced” view of subjects like spectrum distribution and coal allocation which are matters needing “deliberation”. Whether it was the matter of the conduct of Commonwealth Games or coal mines allocation “it was necessary for the leader to speak out”. He should have “guided the decision making process in a certain direction but he did not. He was completely overpowered by the compulsions of co-alition politics”.

While voting at elections people,therefore, need to be warned that coalitions do not perform for the welfare of the people. It has been consistently noticed that men with their parties operating in the fringes get into coalitions only to make money for themselves, their parties. It is a process of wealth creation for the parties and that is why they demand lucrative portfolios. One can recall that DMK of Tamilnadu specifically insisted on Telecom Ministry which is considered a lucrative part of the government that can be milked. I remember the minister A Raja once saying in his defence that he had a party to take care of – as if the political parties should be taken care of by siphoning off government funds for the purpose. Another instance is of Madhu Koda, former chief minister of Jharkhand who made millions out of the state’s mining operations while running a multi-party co-alition. He kept the mining portfolio even when he became the chief minister and made unconscionably excessive amount of money. No wonder the wheel of justice turned and he was later jailed. There are other instances also all of which cannot be mentioned due to constraints of space.

Hence, voting by people desirably needs to be for the parties considered to be established and those that have a history. The small parties with riff raffs should not be favoured with the valued votes of the people. If necessary, it should be either Congress or the BJP that should be voted for in order to obtain better results at governance when a government is formed post-elections.

Our Life, Our Times :: 33 :: Elusive "achchey din"

http://www.bagchiblog.blogspot.com

As the 2019 elections inch closer everyday, campaigning for candidates is acquiring fever pitch. While candidates are being nominated rallies have become the order of the day. Newspapers are full of reports of who said what against whom. The two major parties, Bharatiya Janta Party and the Indian National Congress, are generally at the throat of each other, one accusing the other of corruption. Apart from the abuses for the opposition, there are sops galore for the people, particularly those constituting the weaker segments of the Indian society. The promises, extravagant in nature, are being made and, it seems, were the Congress to come to power it would have precious little left for improvement of infrastructure and other sundry services.

Modi seems to have learnt a lesson from the 2014 General Elections when he made extravagant promises which he could not fulfill during the five years that he ran the government at the Centre. He was mauled by the Opposition on two of his promises – one was about bringing back the reported piles of black money and putting Rs. 15 lakh in each Indian’s pocket and the other was about ushering in “achche din” (good times) with the defeat of the “corrupt” Congress. Though Modi won the elections fulfillment of these two promises have remained elusive. He, therefore, seems to have been more circumspect this time and has refrained from making hard-to-fulfill promises.

Many of his supporters have criticised Modi for his failure to bring in “achche din”. Newspapers have been running reports and comments on his inability to usher in good times. The people’s expectations had been raised sky high by these profligate and lavish promises and when they saw that these were nowhere in sight they were thoroughly disappointed. Even a rightist commentator and generally a Modi supporter, Gurcharan Das, expressed his disappointment the other day at Modi government’s utter failure in bringing about “achche din”. Das pities that Modi’s was a golden opportunity to make the best of a chance that he got but seems to have squandered it by failing to capitalize on it. Das says some good work was done but the most basic thing – jobs – that were not being created are still nowhere in sight and hence the dividend offered by the favourable demography was lost.

The difficulty is that nobody ever defined “achche din”. Even BJP or Modi never ever clarified what would be their components. As it is, ours is an aspirational society. Even those who live in shanties have aspirations of living a better and dignified life. They were so much taken in by Modi’s promises that they started dreaming of a far better life, far removed from the daily grind of poverty and perpetual want. With all those dreams disappearing in thin air they have been disappointed and frustrated. Their frustrations will surely cost Modi some votes at the forthcoming elections.

The extravagant promises generated runaway expectations. Modi did not have a magic wand with the wave of which he could bring about all round happiness and prosperity immediately on being elected the prime minister. If I expected that I would become as rich as Mukesh Ambani, live in a 27 storied (effectively 60 storied) mansion with six floors for the collection of my cars on Modi winning the 2014 elections I would be nothing but an inveterate fool. An intelligent man would realize that ”achche din” takes a lot of effort and dedicated, honest work to materialize and five years is too short a time for any government to work through the rot and mess that was left behind by the previous government.

 The ignorant and unsophisticated were not able to appreciate that the promise of bringing “achche din” was only a handy thick and heavy stick to beat the Congress with which, honestly speaking, it thoroughly deserved. It wasted ten years of the country and instead of progressing towards a better life and greater prosperity it made the country regress and brought it close to a precipice.

Elections are times when all kinds of promises are made. Sops for farmers and the poor continue to be showered, this time, even by the Congress. But then they need to be taken as so much of trash. It is what the political parties do after winning the elections that matters and not what they promise before they form the government. “Achchey din” was a ploy to win the 2014 elections and nothing more, just as “Garibi Hatao” (remove poverty) was a ruse used by Indira Gandhi to win the 1971 elections. Hence, those who are disappointed need not shed tears for no-show of “achche din”.

*cartoon: from internet

Destinations :: Oxford & Stratford-upon-Avon

http://www.bagchiblog.blogspot.com

Oxford

We had to go to Oxford and from there to Stratford upon Avon. My friend Tiwari’s daughter used to be in Oxford working, if I recall, in a research establishment. Tiwari had told us that his daughter, Bela, had bought an apartment and we could conveniently spend some time with her. When I rang her number from Margate I was surprised to get Anne on

Oxford

the other side. She had come over for a few days.

We took a bus from London’s Victoria Coach Station and were in Oxford in under two hours.. As we had made it rather early I deposited the bags in Left Luggage. As I came out I saw somebody peeping out of a window from the Coffee Bar and calling out to me. It was indeed Anne. I had met her in Delhi in 1972 when the entire family had travelled to Gwalior and was staying while on their way

Oxford

in YMCA at Delhi. Bela was around 5 or 6 years old then. There were two other children – Nila, almost of the same age as Bela and Anil who was four months old. These two were adopted children and were neither of East Indian nor of Caucasian descent.

in YMCA at Delhi. Bela was around 5 or 6 years old then. There were two other children – Nila, almost of the same age as Bela and Anil who was four months old. These two were

Oxford

adopted children and were neither of East Indian nor of Caucasian descent.

Ever so irreverent about social niceties, my mother asked Tiwari why did he have to adopt two children when he already had one of his own. He explained to her how things were different in Canada and that everyone had to share the societal burden. I could see his point. Having decided to live out his life in an alien land it made an enormous lot of sense to adopt its ways. He

Shakespeare's birthplace, Stratford-upon-Avon

had done just that.

We spent just about two days with Anne. Day One was meant for sight seeing and day two for Stratford-upon-Avon. I think on the third day we moved back to London on our way back to Brussels.

Oxford is basically a medieval town and the architecture is

On the banks of River Avon

likewise medieval. We took a conducted tour in an open top

bus. The city has numerous spires and towers and each one is very well maintained. I couldn’t help wondering at the upkeep of these old buildings that could well be more than 500 years old. I think pride in their heritage that drives the local people to maintain the buildings in the

AnneHathaway's cottage, Stratford-upon-Avon

best possible manner. It is a matter of attitudes. They have the right attitude while we seem to have no attitude at all. I took a few photographs. No Swachchha Mission can keep cities as clean as you see Oxford in the photographs. I must also mention what a pleasure it was to see boys in white playing cricket on local greens.

Another bus ride and we were off to the Bard’s place. The bus seemed to move between a sea of yellow. The fields were full of rapeseed flower which yields oil used as cooking medium.

Stratford-upon-Avon

Stratford I found rather unremarkable. The only places worth seeing were the house that was Tudor in style where Shakespeare was born. The house he died in, however, no longer exists. The other worth seeing place was the cottage of Anne Hathaway, Shakespeare’s wife. She appered to come from a family of substance and, perhaps, that is why her house is relatively much bigger.

One must, however, mention that one cannot do justice to Stratford-upon-Avon in a day trip. One needs to take in the Shakespearean atmosphere by visiting at least one theatre, say the Royal Shakespeare Theatre or take a weekly Ghost Walk in which guides are all professional actors. I wish my father could visit the place. He

used to teach Shakespeare in the College having been taught at the Presidency College, Kolkata by English professors who

used to be experts either in Shakespearean comedies or in tragedies. That was in the first decade of the last Century. Then the Avon River offers beautiful sights on its banks. A boat ride should have been a must. But, alas, inadequacy of cash made it impossible to spend more time.

Next day we were back in Brussels. We crossed the sea in the catamaran nullifying the anxiety of the Belgian mmigration officials displayed during our out-bound trip. We rounded off this trip of  ours to Europe by taking day trips to Antwerp, Cologne and Luxemburg.