Destinations :: Baden (2004)

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In the tram to Baden

I had a faint recollection that there was a small town by the name of Baden near Vienna. There was another one which was known as Baden Baden which was a health resort and situated in Germany. This is now known as Baden-Wurttemberg. Both are spa towns known for their health-giving properties. Spa, in fact, is a place for baths in waters that have curative properties. Baden also means baths. So both the Badens – Baden near Vienna and Baden Wurrtemberg – are resort towns known for the healthy waters they have.

But then Baden near Vienna is also a tourist town for its

Baden city centre

walks, monuments, buildings and quietude. It also is known for being the town that is associated with the name of a great musician like Bethoven. He spent two summers here and composed some symphonies. Some rooms in the house are open for visitors.

The place is accessible by train as well as by tram. We chose the latter though it takes a little more time. We had never travelled by an inter-city tram and this was as good an opportunity as any. Tickets had to be booked in advance and since the tram departed from its assigned place at the Vienna Opera House rather early we made sure that we were picked up from our hotel.

At the Holy Trinity

It was a good journey of more than an hour and a half through some lovely country with only one stop. The journey ends at Baden near the Trinity Column plague memorial surrounded by narrow streets with their buildings of a particular architectural style of the 19^th Century that lead on to it. The streets are worth walking on as they exude history.

I remember to have visited the house of Bethoven some rooms of which are open for visitors. I cannot recall anything that struck me as outstanding. It was like any wealthy gentleman’s house with some musical instruments thrown in. It did have some written musical notes and a historic piano supposedly used by him. For a 16^th Century building it is very well maintained. We also visited the Dolls & Toys Museum which has exhibits spanning more than two centuries. The old city hall hosts an exhibition of the history of the town from prehistoric times with special emphasis on the period when the city was the summer destination of the Austrian Royals as well as distinguished politicians and artists. Austrian emperors used to visit this tiny little town for its pleasant climate,

A walk in the Curpark

adjoining Vienna Woods and baths in its warm sulfuric waters.

What was most interesting was the walk we took in the Curpark or the Spa Park. The walk had overhanging trees with many species of plants. It has a Bethoven Temple, a band stand where music is played every evening during the summer and several other monuments. The walk in the Park gently rises to end up in the area known as Vienna Woods known for its hiking trails.

After an enjoyable outing, including a good lunch at a restaurant thrown, in we took the tram back for Vienna.

Destinations :: Vienna (2004) : :2 :: Ah... Sonia !!

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D

r. Manmohan Singh commenced his second term the other day. Like last time, the government formation has been marked by theatrics, posturing and hard bargaining. One of the UPA allies, had tried to extract a trifle more than what was reasonable but has had to fall in line and accept whatever was offered by a resurgent Congress.

The ‘drama’ this time, however, has been far less exciting than what it was in 2004 when the Congress had lesser number of seats and had to conjure up a semblance of majority with the association of a motley group of parties. The script that year was more complex and wending its tortuous way it culminated in, Mrs. Sonia Gandhi, the eventual leader of the new United Progressive Alliance, paying heed to her “inner voice” and deciding to renounce (in true Indian tradition?) her claim to the hot seat of Indian premiership. She, instead, nominated Dr. Manmohan Singh to head the new government. Politicians generally go and grab power. Abstaining from it was somewhat of an unusual phenomenon. By doing so Mrs Gandhi immediately went sky-high in the estimation of Indians, more so of the rank and file of the Congress Party of which she was the venerated chief then. Her willing denial of power, however, won her admiration even abroad as became evident to me soon after.

Around that time my wife and I were in Vienna and had followed the goings-on in Delhi on the BBC World News. We were on a short holiday of a fortnight and were comfortably ensconced in Rothensteiner’s Heritage Apartments. A baroque structure like most of the Viennese buildings, it was erected sometime in the 1870s and was pleasingly furnished with period furniture and accoutrements. It was just a short walk away from the Museum Quarter and Ringstrasse - the fascinating “Ring” for short –the hub of Vienna.

On, I think, 24^th May 2004 the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra, once conducted by our own Zubin Mehta, held a free concert on the Schonbrunn Palace grounds to welcome the ten countries from Central and Eastern Europe that had been freshly-inducted into the European Union. Named after Schoner Brunnen, a fountain discovered in the 17^th Century, the Schonbrunn Palace is a “must-see” sight of Vienna. Earlier a hunting lodge, it was used as a summer residence during the reign of Maria Theresa, Archduchess of Austria. While the Palace, situated on an elevation, offers a fine view of Vienna, it has within its confines numerous delectable exhibits.

That day all roads, seemingly, led to Schonbrunn. The Metro, which on other days would have just a smattering of commuters, was plying packed with music lovers. The expansive front yard (in fact, a huge ground) of the Palace was overflowing with people. The Orchestra of 100-odd pieces seemed a mile away on the dais facing the entrance with massive speakers mounted at vantage points.

The place was teeming with people. All the chairs and other places where one could rest one’s posterior had been taken up. We took our standing positions right at the back, near the entrance with youngsters on our two sides guzzling beer. The concert was yet to start and, so, we got talking to a few boys and girls near us. All spoke fluent English. As we got friendlier a young man happened to ask me my nationality. As soon as he heard it he exclaimed “Ahhhh, Sonia Gandhi?”She had renounced the premiership only a day or two back.

 That somewhat extended exclamation contained a fantastic mix of awe, admiration and a little disbelief – about a person shunning a platter offering the wherewithal to rule over a billion people.

Memories of an ordinary Indian :: 27 :: Raipur

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Uncared for heritage of Raipur

After receiving that very warm send off at Ahmedabad I travelled for over 24 hours to reach Raipur. There were two changes on the way – one at Surat and the other at Bhusaval. At Bhusaval I ran into an old student of my father who was a regular visitor at our place. He was the guard of the Bombay-Calcutta Mail that I caught at the dead of the night. He nicely had me settled in on my birth and told the travelling ticket checker to take care of me.

An inspector escorted me to the house at Raipur that was curiously located in what was known as Byron Bazar. The origin of the name I could not ascertain as all inquiries met with a blank. Even today the Internet shows the remarkable development in Byron Bazar but gives no information about the origin of the name.

The house was a big bungalow in a huge dusty vacant compound with a few inhabited servants’ quarters on the fringes. The bungalow itself was divided into my residence and my office of about 14 clerks and three or four supervisors. It was located on a crossroads all of which were dusty.

 If one goes by the photographs now it would seem that Byron Bazaar has had a huge makeover and the kind of development unimaginable those days. Half a century ago it was spurious socialism that suppressed development. Poor remained poor and the rich became richer. The first impression, therefore, of mine as I wound my way from the Railway station was of stark poverty. Ahmedabad, from where I moved to Raipur, was an affluent place and appeared prosperous. Raipur happened to be just the opposite.

My eldest brother was the collector in the next district of Bilaspur. It was 80 miles away by train. I caught the first train after depositing my luggage to provide enough time to the officer I was to relieve to organize his departure.

Bilaspur too was in the Chhattisgarh region of Madhya Pradesh. It was yet to separate to become a new state. Far away from Bhopal, the state capital, these two districts and Bastar were largely neglected.

Brother was there at the station as I alighted from the Bombay Howrah mail. He took me to his huge 19^th Century bungalow that had a porch to accommodate an elephant. The porch had even a staircase for climbing on to the elephant’s back as it stood in the porch. This was truly a relic of the past. Later I happened to see that the bungalow had enormously big grounds through which even ran a small river. My brother’s pariah dog had a busy time chasing out intruders all the time from the big compound.

I visited Bilaspur several times as it was refreshing to be away from Raipur. Raipur was a highly unionised place and several predecessors of mine happened to have breakdowns because of their aggressive behavior. During one such visit my brother took me to a place called Korba which, in fact was a colony of people working in the coal-based thermal power plant. Korba and the surroundings were sitting on a huge coal field and that is why the plant was sited here. The small town that was developed was very pretty with small bungalows surrounded by teak trees. The authorities took care to fell only those trees that were on the proposed buildings sites; others were allowed to remain. One cannot but appreciate the consciousness for environment that was displayed in this remote corner of India more than half a century ago when degrading environment was not an issue and generally it was taken for granted. 

At Raipur I had to look after the postal operations of three districts, Raipur, Durg and Bastar – all were backward. Raipur was traditionally a district headquarters and had, therefore, a semblance of development. The biggest urban centre was, however, the Bhilai Steel Plant and its township adjoining Durg, the headquarters of the eponymously named district. Bhilai town was laid out in a linear manner taking care to see that the smoke from the plant does not blow into the town.

As stated earlier the trade union branch at Raipur was very 

active. It was led by one Brijmohan Singh who also used to be the national Vice President. While he was very polite face to face he could create a problem out of nowhere. Anytime was good enough for him to ring up the Sr. Superintendent in the house. Since I was regular club-goer he must have tried and failed to get me and later he probably gave it up. I spent only seven months in Raipur and I can claim that Singh hardly gave me any trouble.

The district club is a phenomenal institution that was left behind by The British. It was a place for officers to meet in an informal environment, play games together without any regard to the hierarchy and if necessary resolve some official problem. While the club at Bilaspur was rather sleepy, the one in Raipur was lively. Some officers used to come with their respective wives. Some young IAS and IPS officers used to be around and teaming with them I had a roaring time. We played tennis and billiards to our heart’s content. Where do you get a table to play billiards on for free? One could do that for hours in the Raipur Club.

While I used to move around on trains and my Lambretta scooter acquired while at Ahmedabad the most interesting journey was by public transport to Jagdalpur. I will write about it later but first, the trip to Simga, a sub-divisional town. I had to go and approve a rented building to open a new office the demand from the local people for which was pending for a long time. Simga was 28 miles away hence I took off on my scooter with an inspector on the pillion. It was the road to Bilaspur – wide and leafy with very little traffic. I approved a good looking building the rent for which was within my powers.

 As it was 12.30 PM the inspector became fidgety. On asking him, he said he was keen on the 1.30 news of AIR to listen to the Indo-Pak war news of 1965. I said okay and we started for Raipur. As the road was empty I speeded up the scooter and drove at 80 kmph. The breeze in my face almost blinded me and hitting as they did the exposed hands giving them a tingling sensation. Some monkeys were sitting on the middle of the road. Seeing the oncoming scooter the adults disappeared into the roadside trees but a baby kept sitting and watching me head towards him. As I skirted by, he tried and slapped the rear mud guard and as he did so he was thrown yards away by the impact. Suddenly, I realised it was dangerous to drive a two wheeler so fast and I slowed down. We made it to my office just as the newscast was to begin. As I switched on my National Ecko 8 valve radio and the news reader's  deep bass came through, the entire office trooped into my drawing room. That day the Indian Army had opened the Barmer front to elicit a round of clapping from everybody.

The other tour was to Bastar by a state transport bus. It was a almost 300 kilometres ride on a rickety bus proverbially uncomfortable. But I had to go there as the inspection of the big office there had become overdue. Travelling by the bus to Jagdalpur was quite embarrassing as I happened to be the only non-tribal that day and all eyes seemingly were on me. The rest of the passengers had a way of staring at me that made me feel uncomfortable. Thankfully, the bus passed through some lovely country and one had to look out of the window to take in the passing panorama.

Bastar is on a plateau and the bus had to climb twice on hills that were not very high. The first one was known by the name of Kanker which had a very small settlement. The bus stopped for a few minutes at the rest house where we were told a tiger was seen on the preceding night. Next rise was known as Keshkal Ghati and the road was beautiful snaking its way up with dense vegetation on two sides. It was a tropical forest and a typical tiger country. A one-horse town, Kondagaon, came up next which is currently the headquarters of the sub-divisional magistrate. After that, as I remember it, it was journeying through the plateau with about 100 yards of clearings on both sides, presumably for cultivation, and beyond them were the jungles. Occasionally one would come across tribal men resting in the shade of a tree and as they heard the bus approaching they would sit up to give it a good look and then again would lie back on the bare earth. Clearly, they had nothing better to do right through the day. Relaxing in the benign weather was all that they had to do.

Jagdalpur was quite a surprise. In the midst of the prevailing backwardness and seemingly primitive people shops were illuminated with electricity when we arrived. There were far too many shops selling radios and film music was blaring out through them. It was kind of surreal as well as incongruous. Yet one had to admit it was there and there were no two ways about it. Obviously the shops were of outsiders – non-tribals who had been doing business in Bastar. At that time adjoining areas of Narainpur, Bijapur, Dantewada, etc. were only partially explored. Sukma in the south was still totally undeveloped with jungles all around. Bastar is, however, known for its iron deposits and world class iron ore was being mined at Bailadila to be exported to Japan. It is such an irony that wherever there is wealth below the surface there is also wealth over ground that has to be cleared to get at what is underground. Mining is, therefore, is a very rapacious activity.

I was still in Jagdalpur when I got a call from the Postmaster General (PMG) that I had been transferred to Jabalpur as the incumbent was joining the Indian Army and the post could not be downgraded. So, I returned finishing the inspection in a hurry as the PMG was also going to inspect my office.

When I returned I was told the PMG also wanted to inaugurate the mobile post office for Bhilai, a vehicle designed for which was waiting to be made operational. On the second day of his visit I was asked to proceed to Bhilai to organize the inauguration and arrange for proper publicity I did likewise and met the district publicity officer who turned out to be an old student of my father. He said he would take care of the publicity part – which in fact the PMG wanted being highly publicity conscious.

As it turned out the PMG became a victim of two mishaps. First, his vehicle that was borrowed by our lower level functionaries broke down before it entered Bhilai. I had refused to touch anybody for a vehicle for this very reason. The second mishap was that barring a few reporters no press photographers turned up. Our man, the PMG, was red in the face when he cut the tape. He carried his anger back to Raipur and next day he handed over the inspection report with an adverse comment in its tail. My office staff were wild with anger as, they said, it had never happened before. But that is the way with petty men. He was indeed petty as I saw later in my career as our paths crossed several times.

*Photo from internet

Our Life, Our Times :: 39 :: Cardinal principle "You follow your faith, I follow mine"

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An artist's impression of Jayvilas Palace

Irena Akbar, a former journalist and currently a Lucknow-based entrepreneur has written an article in Indian Express on secularism saying in the title that it (secularism) “is no spectacle”. Citing the example of Nusrat Jehan, the young MP from West Bengal, Akbar says that one does not have to wear sindoor (the vermilion powder that Hindu married women sport on their forehead and along the parting of hair) and haul the Jagannath Rath (the Holy Jagannath carriage) during its “yatra”. In other words, according to her, one need not wear secularism on one’s sleeves. These are only totems and traditions that are reflective of the Hindu culture.

What was most interesting for me was what she wrote at the end of her piece and that was a suggestion that for upholding the secular inclusive values it would do well if one went to the basics: “you follow your faith and I mine. Let each be.” This set of bells clanging and something came to me from the distant past. This is precisely what the culture was like when I was growing up almost 80 years ago in the small city of Gwalior, the capital of the eponymously named princely state. The state had come out of regency lasting about 19 years when, in 1936, the young 19 years old Jiwajirao Scindia ascended the throne.

He inherited everything that was present in Gwalior – its culture, its Secularism, its administrative smartness, everything was in place since before his birth. And he seems to have readily accepted to go along with the established traditions that were being adhered to. The state revelled in secularism. The young Maharaja would take part in the Dussehra festival just as he would be a part of a Muharram procession astride a black and white horse. His ministers would do the same and thousands would throng the streets to get a glimpse of him whether during Dussehra or Muharram. I remember my father would hand hold we kids to an acquaintance’s place to watch the procession from a broad 1st floor balcony giving us a ring-side view of the Tazias, including the massive one of the Maharaja and, of course, the Maharaja himself on his distinctively bred horse.

During the feudal times life revolved round the Maharaja and it was he who set the pattern. His ways would effortlessly get transferred to the society in general. I, therefore, do not recall any communal conflict till immediately before or after the partition. It was so peaceful. And it was so because of the adherence to the basic principle “you follow your faith, I mine”.

Our favourite tonga-walla was a Muslim named Abdullah of whom I have very fond memories. My father used to be professor in the only degree college the state had and that was in Gwalior. Its faculty contained erudite men from all over India, from the South as well as from the North and the East – Bihar and Bengal. It even had a student of Harold Laski who got a doctorate from the London School of Economics. There was a Maulana who used to teach Persian and there was Jan Nisar Akhtar, a very well acknowledged and very well thought of Urdu poet and father of currently popular TV personality Javed Akhtar. Jan Nisar Akhtar later moved to Bhopal where Javed was born. The faculty, thus had a sprinkling of all communities, all lived and worked in harmony.

The professor of Geography was MA Qureishy who was the closest friend of my father. He also taught my eldest brother and later my sister in the post graduate classes that came up much later, after independence. Both and numerous others, including myself, who had had the occasion to hear his lectures could not but hold him in highest of esteem.

Likewise, we have fond memories of our Muslim friends. They were just friends for us and we never thought of what their faith was – which sub-consciously we thought was their business. They would come home and my parents would be hospitable with them. My father’s students too would come home to get some problems solved and were welcomed like numerous others. The unadulterated love and affection received by them sentimentally attached them to all of us. I remember Naeem Ahmed, a student of my father, came to see him one last time before he left for Pakistan with his family. Again, another Muslim student, a son of a nawab of a nearby principality, was afraid to stay on in the hostel during the post-partition disturbances. He was given the offer to move into our house.

In those days men and women were men women who were generally not identified by their faith. They were fellow human beings. The distrust that we come across in the society today was largely absent. Yes, there was no democracy to split the populace in myriad splinters – each at the throat of the other in dog-eat-dog fights. Raucous people’s rule was absent as the feudal was the benign lord and the master besides being the sole arbiter. The absence of democracy meant non-existence of politics and politicking to divide the people for seeking votes on communal basis. Above all, there was absence of politicians who generally are the instruments of dissensions and discords, indulging in acrimonious debates. Life was simple, unhurried and peaceful where humans were not complicated, devious and mean. 

Looking back from this distance of time one would tend to regard those days as idyllic – devoid of conflicts, insidious scheming and communal skirmishes. Since the present-day schism is basically between Hindus and Muslims one finds so much to commend Akbar’s basic value that, in all likelihood, will restore the long lost peace and tranquility enabling all communities to live in harmony again

*Image from internt.

Our Life, Our Times :: 38 :: The Cricket World Cup and its bizarre rules

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England skipper Eoin Morgan with the coveted trophy

I think Gautam Gambhir is right; it is indeed an idiotic rule to award a match to a side on the basis of number of boundaries hit by it. In the case of the Final World Cup 2019 cricket match the very situation at the end of the match indicated that England was no better than the New Zealand team as the latter had equaled the total score piled up by the former with a lesser number of boundaries. That shows the proficiency of the team. It is the number of runs that win matches and not the number of boundaries hit by a side. Boundaries after all help to build up a total and they can be scored on account of any number of reasons, like patchy fielding or presence of a pinch hitter in the opposition and so on. Capability of hitting boundaries cannot be the criterion for judging a winner. To that extent I feel that the rules, if they prescribe a winner on the basis of the number of boundaries hit by a team, are bizarre and verging on being ridiculous.

In fact, I find the New Zealand team fared better on two counts. One I have already indicated above, i.e. it scored equal number of runs without as many boundaries as scored by England. It also fared better than England in equaling the total set by it losing lesser number of wickets. Which total is better: 240 for 10 wickets or 240 for 8 wickets? Obviously the latter! Hence the winner should have been the New Zealand team - not the English team. The question of a tie, therefore, did not arise. It could have been a tie had both the teams scored the same number of runs for the loss of the same number of wickets.

The result announced perhaps cannot be changed now but the ICC should sit down and think about it to make the rules more rational and logical. Damage has been done this time to the New Zealanders. It needs to be ensured that no other team suffers the same fate as New Zealand in future.

*Photo from internet

Our Life, Our Times :: 37 :: Scarcity of water

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One wonders whether people have read the Times of India report of 22^nd June last regarding the water crisis of Chennai. A city that had adequate supply of water, the liquid gold, till recently is now going through a water crisis. The city now depends on its three desalination plants working to their more than 80% of their capacity yet falling short of its requirements. For the last few months there has been enormous shortage of water and many areas of the town have gone without water for days. The citizens are suffering for weeks and months with no redemption in sight.

The disaster was actually man made. Having gone without a drop of rain for the last 200 days the citizens of the city are paying very heavy price for the reckless destruction of water bodies and poor planning for the city. While public sector Metrowater is unable to cater to the needs of the city for want of the necessary means of haulage of water in thousands of litres private players are making hay by charging astronomical sums for a few hundreds of litres of water from their tankers of thousands of liters. House wives are able to fill a few pots with great difficulty, the amount being far below their daily requirements.

The report goes on to say that Chennai is paying the price for “downright disrespect for water bodies and water sources. Chennai and its two neighbouring districts – Kancheepuram and Tiruvallur – together used to be called ‘Yeri (lake) districts’. They had more than 6,000 lakes, ponds and reservoirs that minimised run-off losses of rainwater and kept replenishing the groundwater table throughout the year. At present, authorities say only 3,896 have survived and Chennai city alone has lost nearly 150 such water bodies. Further, those survived are nowhere near their actual size. Canals and supply routes have all disappeared while successive governments promoted housing projects called ‘Yeri schemes’ to convert water bodies into residential plots and apartments to house the city’s burgeoning population.” Three rivers criss-crossed the metropolis but they have all since disappeared. The rivers included Cooum, Adyar and Buckingham Canal all of which have since been killed by filth and untreated sewage and have been converted into gutters.

These and various other unwise decisions meant water storage and supply could never be according to the requirements of the city. Only the other day a photograph appeared in the newspapers of a long rake of water wagons being hauled by the Railways from Vellore to Chennai. But this will meet only part of the requirements of the city. A repeat of such haulage is on the cards as the rains are still far away.

This should be taken as a lesson for many cities including Bhopal which was in no way better off. Mismanagement of water resources and mismanagement of water supply brought the city virtually on its knees. The sources including the Upper Lake, Kolar and Kaliyasot dams had almost gone dry. The rivers feeding the Upper Lake were choked and it is only now that the villagers of the area have woken up to the problem and have started clearing the silt from Kolans and Uljhawan rivers. But the streams that flow through the city like Shirin and Banganga have like Chennai been converted into gutters. People of the town were lucky that the monsoon broke over the city, though late, with pretty good strength removing the chances of water starvation in the town, barring small pockets. There has been a lull since the first burst of monsoon but there is hope that more rains will visit the city soon. But, unless the authorities wake up and protect the water bodies from encroachment, especially the Upper Lake and the Kolar Dam things might get out of hand.

 The Municipal Corporation is one of the most inefficient and incompetent local bodies which finds priorities elsewhere, away from the city’s wter problems. It wastes money on peripheral activities rather than on conservation of the Upper Lake. A ready example is the amphitheatre built for laser shows on water that never took off and Rs. 7 crore reported to have been spent on it have gone down the drain. The contractor is reported to have removed all the fixtures. It never occurred to the then Municipal Commissioner that the water level could plummet exposing the nozzles to the elements rendering the facility inoperable. This is the second time that a theatre for laser shows has been abandoned but no one has been held accountable. Rs, 7 crore could have financed a few sewage treatment plants.

What is more, the pipelines carrying water from different water sources, especially Kolar reservoir, develop frequent leaks which waste the precious fluid in millions of litres. Even when the city was going through a water crisis pipelines were bursting left and right draining out thousands of litres of water.

 Less said the better about municipal water tankers. Even during the crisis situation these would leak from multiple points while transporting water for a water-starved community. Social audit of the Municipal Corporation’s performance in relation to its various activities, perhaps has never been done. It is imperative that this is done now to ensure that tax payers’ moneys are gainfully used yielding satisfactory results.

The title of the Times of India report “Why Chennai’s water crisis should worry you” is pointed at every city in India where civic bodies are failing the communities that they are supposed to serve. Indian local bodies, barring a very few exceptions, are non performers and because of their lackadaisical ways citizens suffer not only inconveniences but also from diseases and ill-health. This paradigm must change sooner than later. The municipalities need to work sincerely in accordance with their charter to extend to citizens a semblance of ‘ease of living” regardless of their standard of living.

*Photo from internet

Ravindra Jadeja - a complete all-rounder

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Jadeja taking a catch

The “bits and pieces” player was the top scorer with 77 runs to his credit in the Indian innings of the World Cup semi final, the match India lost. While the top order consisting of more glorified batsmen miserably failed reducing India to 5 runs for three wickets it was the rearguard effort saw India cross the 200 mark.

Though Sanjay Manjrekar, has since apologized for describing Ravindra Jadeja as a “bits and pieces” player who, according to him, should not have found a place in the national team. He preferred either a pure bowler or a pure batsman rather than a player who was supposedly an all rounder.. But one wonders whether a team would be complete with only bowlers and batsmen without any all rounder.

All-rounders are what we have been lacking in the team for a long time. Ravichandran Ashwin, the former off spinner, had a hidden knack of using the willow rather well. As he started doing well with the bat he was quickly promoted in the batting order and reckoned as an all rounder. And he didn’t do too badly. He even scored four test centuries and was reputed being a “bowling all rounder”.

Likewise Bhuwanesh Kumar, one of the current quartet of Indian speedsters, also showed sone inclination to bat and he too was promoted in batting order. He has 3 fifties to his credit and bats at No. 7 or 8 in tests, according to the needs of the situation in a match.

None of these two are as genuine an all rounder as Ravindra Jadeja is. His bowling is superb as he can fox the batsmen and keep them in check. His economy rate is first rate. He has been edged out of the team because of the arrival of Yazuvendra Chahal and Kuldip Yadav, the two wrist spinners. But none of these two have the batting or fielding prowess that Jadeja has.  He is a remarkably athletic fieldsman who can stop balls or take catches while suspended in the air. His catch close to the the boundary line in the Semi Final of 2019 World Cup that India lost was phenomenal in so far as anticipation and athleticism was concerned. Then, of course, he is a very good batsman who can wield the willow very well. Who can forget him swinging his bat like a Rajput’s sword while acknowledging the crowd’s appreciation after scoring a fifty in some of the test matches he played in.

Therefore to call Ravindra Jadeja a “bits and pieces player” was an anathema, an abomination – an abhorrent use of a phrase of the English language. Ravindra Jadeja is a complete cricketer who has picked up the “bits and pieces” of cricket only to combine them and glue them together in his astute self. He has put out on full display his cricketing ability many a times. An Indian commentator running downa bright star of Indian Cricket while commentating abroad  is nothing but highly reprehensible.

*photo from internet

Kashmir 50 years ago :: 12 :: Baltal Valley

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The other day the local Hindi daily, Daink Bhaskar, published a fairly big picture – bigger than half a page – of the Baltal Valley in Kashmir. Baltal comes into prominence every year around this time as the Amarnath Yatra commences. This year it commenced on 1^st July. Photographs have already appeared in the newspapers of ponies loaded with stores and provisions labouring uphill.

Baltal is one of the two options to approach the Amarnath Cave; the other, of course, is the traditional and age old Pahalgam-Chnadanwari route that, if I remember, is 24 miles in length and can be covered in three stages, each roughly eight miles apart. Baltal to Amarnath is a shorter route – of around only 6 or 7 miles. This route was opened a few years ago and has become very popular since it is shorter, though arduous, than the other route from Pahalgam. Those who are affluent can take a short hop in a helicopter to fulfill their needs of the faith.

The photograph that appeared in Dainik Bhaskar, however, broke my heart. What it showed was a sprawling tented settlement over what was once an alluring green grassy meadow. Obviously trees have been cut down for facility of movements of buses, taxis, private vehicles as also horses and ponies. Then of course there are flying horses like helicopters which have to land and need a substantial clear and levelled space for the purpose. The Valley was narrow with mountains on practically all sides covered with pines. All that seems to have gone!

Fifty years ago it was not so. I remember I came across Baltal Valley while travelling to Ladakh in 1968 in an Army jeep that was part of a huge convoy. The jeep stopped on the Srinagar-Leh highway as my senior, a telecom engineer had some checking job to be done at the small Signals outfit that was stationed here at Baltal. As I got off the jeep and saw the incredibly beautiful little valley with green meadows and pine-covered hills I was captivated by it. The narrow valley was surrounded by tall mountains; some even had snow on their peaks. It was a delightful sight.

My Director and I walked out into the Valley. Three men used to man the Signals unit and they explained to the Director the technicalities of the Unit and all that they required from the Indian Telegraphs. While having tea with them we came to know that Amarnath Cave was only about 8 miles away from this spot. But the climb was difficult and only the toughest of the Army lot have been able to go up to the shrine and return. The path was unchartered and treacherous at many places with crevices of unknown depths. There was a bungalow up there on one of the small hillocks where, the Army men said, Indira Gandhi was reported to have honeymooned way back in 1940s.

It must have been awfully beautiful place when Indira Gandhi came all the way here to have some quiet time for a newly-wedded life. There would have been very little disturbance. Surely there wouldn’t have been the groaning of trucks as they huffed and puffed their way up the mountain to the Zoji La pass like we saw and heard. Tranquil is what it must have been all the way.

The photograph that appeared in the newspaper was very distressing. I was distressed more when I checked Baltal out on the internet. There were images of tents and a mass of humanity that was supposed to be stabled in them, scores of vehicles, ponies and horses. Grass was notably absent from the ground. The meadow was simply gone. This was total destruction of a beautiful, thriving valley with greenery all around. This is the kind of environmental destruction that is wrought by our unchecked and unbridled religious tourism.

Time was when pilgrims used to come only in thousands. Now they come in hundreds of thousands. What is more, the Shrine Board that looks after the pilgrims and makes arrangements for their stay, etc. and takes care of the Amarnath shrine, invites more and more pilgrims every year. No gainsaying the fact that greater the numbers more severe will be the environmental degradation. But none cares although taking care of the environment is one of the imperatives of the government.

This is happening all around the country – whether it is Kashmir or Kerala. The grip of the religion that was pretty loose in our case is slowly tightening. That may not be a bad thing by itself but that should not be at the cost of Nature. We destroy the environment at our own peril. Already the signs of the deteriorating environment have started presenting themselves in our country as also elsewhere. Unless we cry a halt to it immediately we put at risk the very existence of life on this beautiful and benign planet of ours. More importantly, religious activism will not be able to keep us safe and secure.

*Photo from internet