Joy of Seeing

Millions cannot see yet they survive and thrive .While they have a compulsion to struggle,I was determined to enter the dark arena on my own volition to see ultimately the light at the end of the tunnel.

Eight days after my Phaco surgery, Dr Bharat Ratna, the friendly Consultant Ophthalmologist at CFS declared that vision in my right eye had been restored to the extent of 90 % and that it was to be further fine tuned over the next 8 to 10 days .A similar test within 21 hrs of surgery had revealed less than satisfactory results. I would candidly admit at this stage, I was more inclined for gradual recovery rather than quick restoration.

In addition to being given positive sight inputs, I was encouraged to gradually take up normal activities,such as ,walking ,reading ,writing ,watching TV etc. The strenuous activities, as expected, were to be avoided ,nevertheless. It was a welcome sigh of relief.
More freedom was in offing subsequent to stichless, painless and no bandage surgery made possible as a result of only 3 mm incision as opposed to 10 to 12 mm incision in conventional surgery. A Hoya-P.S.A.F.-1 (U.V.) lens was emulsified with the help of ultrasonic energy. One is not sure whether Monofocal or Multifocal IOL(Interaocular Implant) was placed within my eye to correct the vision for distance and reading ,otherwise impeded by Cataract.

Apart from minimum complications, the whole procedure took barely 15 minutes, though the experience with drops of local anaesthesia was a mixed one. A sort of lingering pain prevailed which could have been avoided if injection method was resorted to .A short interaction with the surgeon prior to surgery and careful removal of patient to a proper recovery room after surgery can be good confidence building measures. Also, overall basic facilities at the hospital should be in tandem with quantum of payment.
Based on experience gained and expectations raised, does one presume that the scenario will be bright provided the precautions spelt out are to be taken in right spirits? Hope, I am in a position to take rest as advised. And, the IOL soon truly becomes a part and a parcel of my body for the rest of life as claimed by the surgeons.

There cannot be a better joy than the joy of seeing. I need it, to jingle all the way………..

Operation period Thoughts

Precisely seven days after Cataract surgery I am making an attempt to write a few lines for the first time.What do I scribble ? About eyes ? Logically yes.May be,something else as well .

Let me begin with the dark glasses I am wearing .It was purchased for Rs 70/- in Law Centre, DU by late Ankoor.Though his memory touches us every now and then ,every day ,he was unfortunately pulled up at that juncture and made to explain expenditure of an insignificient amount.It happened when he was pscychologically on a decline ,when he won't know who he was ,where he was and what he was doing .Thoroughly and badly sandwiched between depression and Epilepsy .

Seven months and one day has passed by since he decided to leave us prematurely without giving any clue.

My thoughts about proceeding ahead with writing a piece get a jolt when a sweeper interrupts .He wants to sweep and mop the stair case temporarily occupied by me to get respite from the bone chilling cold .(20 & 5 degrees respectively).

I enter Home Shanti Home .A sweet ripe banana welcomes me.Soon to follow are melodious Md Rafi songs of bygone era : "Chu lene do najuk hoton ko" (Kajal),"Aaj ki raat ye kaisi raat ki hamko neend nahi aati"(Aman),"Khoya Khoya chand" (Kala Bazar),"Chhalkae Jaam "(Mere Humdum ,Mere Dost),etc .

A hot water bath below neck is the next task I perform .I take extra care in protecting right eye.What a relaxed feeling I have ! It attempts to attack chill in the air.DT is profusely thanked for extending requisite moral support .

Soon it is time for one more round of eye drops.Number of tablets have gradually come down,however .Too much of strain on left eye becomes obvious when it turns red and irritates.

By 1150 hrs I am back to my favourite day time hiding joint-The terrace.In the morning I had seen several piegons shivering in cold conditions.Now they seem to have gone to attend to their daily chores.The Mynas and Crows are in plenty to be seen.But no Sparrows,whatsoever.They are disappearing fast from the urban areas.This colony has a plethrora of puppies of different breeds and colours.They disturb occasionally my writing,basking in sun or a nap in between.

While relaxing over a Naga Shawl,I am tempted to think again.....................about missing walks ,yoga, future plans,contingencies etc.Old habits,afterall,die hard.How difficult it is to hear T.V .(mostly Lokpal stuff) rather than getting a glimpse of it?How much of concerted effort DT makes in reading out newspaper to me apart from cooking and giving medicine in time?

I dose off to get up again.It is nice to see the beautiful twins of Qr No. 4,their faithful boy servant and the "Vodafone" dog who barks very meekly unlike his Indian counterparts.Colourful dresses of tiny tots hung daily on the terrace, I never miss.Also scratching of wall by a worker and his incomprehensible singals to his colleague over the adjucent M.S. flats have become almost regular features.

Around 1300 hrs, Geetu of Qr No. 6 is seen having a justifiable argument with the plumbers who seem to have misadjusted fittings in their bathroom.Thus, poor giggling girls(with the addition of Shobha and Sikhu) are being deprived of their daily baths.Only last night,DT had visited them and relished "Milk Ka Chai" served in new chinese cups presented by me a fortnight ago.She,in addition,had her share of regular womanly gossip.

There cannot be a better treat than hot bowl of soupy noodles.It comes to me as a surprise when DT makes a special appearance around 1315 hrs.It not only tastes delicious but cold wind is rendered ineffective for a few minutes.

Slowly time fritters away .It is a memorable and soothing afternoon subsequent to a simple meal of Roti,Dal,Aloo Seam Ki Subji,Aloo Gobi ki Bhujiya and Boondi Raita.Half a glass of Apple juice further cheers me up when day light is destined to fade.

Azure blue sky and fully sun-kissed day remind me of my imminent return to the mountains of Sikkim after regaining eye sight.

In retrospect ,I deserved a break from the world of reading and writing.I was only walking my mind if not body.AND I suppose,I enjoyed it.

Thank You DT for bearing and supporting whole-heartedly.Thank You Hemant&Raj, Minu & Shekhar,Thaks & Saanu,Geetu, Dips,Munnu,Verma,Amal Bhaiya & Bhabhi,Haidar & Jayanti,Dr.Raza,Dr. & Mrs V P Gupta for visiting me...................and providing warmth and fellowship.

Torepkiu of Wapher

In the remote village of Wapher under Samator Block of Tuensang District of Nagaland, 75 plus Torephkiu, Head Gaon Bura, was basking in the eco-friendly compound of his house. 2nd of August, 2010 was a warm day in this high altitude village. It had rained the whole of previous night leaving a severe impact on electric supply. After a long interval, a senior Civil Servant was visiting his forgotten and neglected village. He had extended his helping hand to the Village Council Chairman, Shuhven, an ex-serviceman as also a Pastor in making hectic preparations for the visit. The slushy foot path leading to a meeting hall constructed under BADP had been cleaned, pot-holes were filled up and a fixed sum was ear marked for tea, refreshments and lunch.
Though news had been spread a few days in advance to call the working SHG members of the village, half of them had not understood the purpose behind the meeting. This much was sure that some announcement was going to be made in respect of a new scheme or two.
Torepkiu, proud owner of six Mithuns was leading a contented life with lukewarm backup of his second wife, 20 years junior to him in age. While most of his five children from the deceased first wife had settled in life, three of the off springs from his latest bride were attending a dilapidated Government Junior High School,closeby. While giving coins to them liberally as an incentive to concentrate on studies, he would not hesitate to extend this facility to all the neighborhood tiny tots on almost regular basis. Some of them would also get financial assistance for buying school uniforms and paying monthly fees. They would avail of a self declared holiday whenever the footpath leading to school would get submerged / become slippery as a result of heavy downpour. They would be also ‘eligible’ for a holiday, each time the teachers decided to have a gala time in Tuensang or Mokokchung.
When the entourage led by a senior officer of Union of India arrived at the village gate, Torepkiu’s joy knew no bounds. Though the Council Chairman, and the Pastor took lead in welcoming him, Torepkiu did not want to lag behind. A nagging pain in his left calf muscles did not deter his spirits. Rather, wearing a half-sleeved orange coloured vest and non-ironed black shorts, he attempted to walk fast with the help of a stick.
After exchange of pleasantries, the convoy slowly moved through the flat grassy land. Some of the women and children witnessed the whole development with interest. Otherwise also, the day had turned bright and sunny after almost a week. The brightness ensured quick drying up of wet and smelly warm cloths apart from organizing a sort of ‘sunning and airing ceremony’ for the household items of daily use.
Subsequent to a round of the village, including youth dormitory, the formal meeting was called to order in the modest, wooden meeting hall. The guest was welcomed with a traditional woolen shawl bearing the symbol/logo of the dominant tribe of Wapher. The speakers included the Council Chairman, the Pastor and Shuhven.The last named became an Interpreter due to his command over Hindi language. In the normal course, Torepkiu’s turn would not have come. When the guest evinced keen interest in his background and experience, he not only became vocal, he also threw sufficient light on the constraints and development prospects of the remote village. Like a seasoned leader, he would crack jokes in between while making submissions. Despite the dismal record of poverty alleviation schemes, he expressed a ray of hope for the toiling masses, without following a bit about the emerging group oriented approach of the Government.
Useful notes were exchanged, experiences shared and vital information was gathered, both in respect of functional and defunct SHGs during the course of interaction. Also on being asked, a fervent desire was expressed for coming under the umbrella of new SHGs depending upon the promotion prospects of a particular trade or activity.
It appeared that the villagers in general were miles away from the ambit of modern markets, what to talk of transporting the surplus products or adding value to them. The thrift habit was yet to pick up, though there was an urge for same, more so, among women in a society otherwise fully dominated by hefty and tall men. Credit link with the banks was also ruled out, as the nearest branch was located at a distance of 35 kms, requiring an irritating journey time of minimum six to seven hours.
As per prevailing tradition, the women were kept out of the meeting. Their role was limited to serving ethnic snacks, cold drink and tea. They could, nevertheless, be contacted near the gate when the GOI functionary expressed a desire to meet them. In his opinion, they were going to be main beneficiaries of the scheme, he had come to explain and advocate. This interaction made possible with the help of Torepkiu and the village Pastor could invite useful insights into the overall potential of the community. Within no time, the present villagers could regroup themselves into five to six new self help groups. They appeared more interested if not motivated.
The delayed lunch at Chairman’s traditional villa turned out to be a more relaxed affair. Varieties of ethnic non-vegetarian dishes were served with care and smile by four daughters of Chairman. Fortunately, three of them were studying and one of them had a plan to go to Kohima for higher studies. Torepkiu, despite being requested, refused to eat, for, in his scheme of things, meals were to be taken only twice- 9:30 AM and 5.30PM.
Sharp at 5pm, it began getting dark. It was time for the guest from Guwahati to leave. Accompanied by the District and Block officials, he summed up the nuts and bolts of the project to the eager villagers. Getting into his fur jacket, he did not forget to thank one and all, apart from showing them some semblance of optimism. He got an opportunity to shake hands with everyone except Torepkiu.
When the convoy of four Jeeps passed by the high and impressive traditional gate of the village, the uniformed Village Guard gave a smart salute. A few children ran from behind to bid good bye. Away from the gate, near an unused bus stop, a man hiding under an old thick blanket was also seen waving at the Jeeps. He uttered to himself-“whether they do something for the village or not, I have done my duty, to the best of my ability”. Can you guess, who was he?
The emerging, crystal clear rainbow from the nearby Myanmar border at dusk attempted to narrate a story with a tinge of hope and optimism. Without noticing this rare spectacle, the Govt. Jeeps picked up momentum to reach Tuensang.
Within a few months, the Civil Servant in question was transferred, leading to a situation when no dent could be made in the fragile socio-economic structure of the village, despite dedicated efforts.

Reminiscences of Ankoor

• It is one the most difficult write ups for me. Penning down thoughts about sudden demise of your only offspring requires indomitable courage, especially on the day of demition of office in the land of Goddess Kamakhya. One has to gather sufficient strength to come out with correct expressions. Piecing together scattered memories takes a good deal of time. But it is worth it.
• One knows that death is sure and certain but if it happens to near or dear ones, it is unbelievable.
• Our dear Ankoor passed away for his heavenly abode at 16.35 hours on 22/5/11 (Sunday) at a young age of 22 years and six weeks. He was suffering from epilepsy and mild depression. He was under regular medication and counseling. His desired needs, to the best of our knowledge were being attended to. We never knew, however, that he was extending, at the same time, a warm welcome to Yamraj.
• The mere fact that his body was lying in a morgue of a prominent hospital at New Delhi, without being identified for 21.5 hrs, gave us considerable pain. We cursed ourselves. Bringing him home after embalming, two hours later was also one of the most difficult operations one has ever undertaken in life.
• Two of us brought him to this Kalyug at 10.48 hours on 8/4/89. We rightly decided (much against social norms) to light his pyre together at platform number 27 at Lodhi Road Crematorium, around 11.20 hours on 24/5/11.His ashes were immersed in River Swarnarekha at Ghagra near Ranchi in the morning of the following day. His Shradh (last rites) was performed on 5/6/11.
• A self-satisfied loner, he always stood out from the crowd. He was inclined towards writing, both, poetry & prose. Laurels for his work came when he was crowned ‘Mr. Political Science’ in Sri Venkateshwar College even when his percentage of marks had registered a fall due to continued indisposition. Like a true soul he uttered-“I do not deserve it”.
• His straightforwardness & simplicity was loved by one & all. He was brimming with enthusiasm and energy till second week of September 2010.
• His hard work, sincerity & sharp intellect inspired many of his juniors in both colleges-Sahid Bhagat Singh and Sri Venkateswara, who are determined to bring pride & glory to their families. Though his innings ended abruptly in Law Centre-I, he was praised by his teachers for his grasp of the subject and his overall helpful nature towards classmates.
• His poems & prose, one is showing to relatives, friends & well wishers but very soon, it may be confined to the dustbin of history, unless documented well.
• Even when he was in Clsss IX/ Xth, he would say-“Brothers fight for toys in childhood & for property in adulthood”. Further, some of his impressions on Gujarat Riots (2002) were very realistic and touching:
Land of Peace has been broken into pieces,
Riots were regional but its effect was national,
God is one but people lack oneness, etc.
• The World was a stage for him and God wrote dramas for everyone. Acting well will ensure award while failing to act will invite punishment.
• He would expect everyone to forget the ‘vast’ past, never regret about. The present was not only to be remembered, but to be enjoyed.
• I wanted to write “Letters from Father to Son” through E-mail to Ankoor on the lines of letters from “Father to daughter “ by Jawaharlal Nehru. But I kept planning………….Time and tide wait for none. I was no exception.

Getting Mesmerized at 35,000 Feet

Normally flights at dusk offer very little in terms of natural beauty. These further become gloomy affairs when thin occupancy rules the roost. After initial setback in form of gradual rise in altitude, a silver lining comes by way of sight of twinkling lights down below. These, nevertheless, disappear from view in no time.
The experience gained in Flight No. SG 894(Guwahati- Delhi) on 12th May 2011, however, came as a breath of fresh air. The half empty aircraft gained its expected altitude within 15 minutes. Though sky was clear at take off and one was craving to see the panoramic view of the gigantic Brahmaputra, it was the rugged beauty of thick black and white cloud formations that actually stole the show. The view in the fading orange light was not only eye catching, it was also awesome. The horizon was at its best, with five prominent colours - orange, yellow, green, blue and black making a candid statement. It was a rare opportunity to see nature in its absolute glory. It restored my mind, body and spirit after a hectic day. Despite a ban on in-flight photography, I cannot resist the temptation to take half a dozen shots of this incredible scenario.
My romance with the wonderful sight gets a temporary setback when a tall, slim and smart hostess offers a non-vegetarian dinner packet upon struggling a bit to pronounce my surname. I am impressed once again with Rekip, whose alert and sincere acumen ensured delivery of this hot packet, of course on payment. My request for a vegetarian meal in place of a non-vegetarian one is quickly acceded to. When asked to divulge the reason, a streak of smile is visible on the face of the teenaged hostess. She is informed that the vegetarian packet was being ‘saved’ for D.T. who loves hogging the plane food even if it is at the dead of the night. One of such ‘savings’ figured prominently under the title “Caught in thin air” in one of the national dailies in October 1999. The direction of the flight was opposite this time. The view outside gave an impression that the air craft was now plying through thick clouds. It prompted occasional announcements from the pilot and crew -“Please fasten your seat belts; please do not walk down the aisle; please do not use the rest-room”, etc.
By the time we complete sixty minutes, it is pitch dark. Couple of snow peaks, including Mount Kanchenjunga, that were visible in the beginning, are not to be seen. All of a sudden, the aircraft takes a sharp turn. We go up, somewhat lose balance and are placed far away from the colourful horizon. Within a few minutes, we have a reverse experience, while we go down. The feeling was worth remembering. The scenario was worth a watch. The swing reminded me of Sky Diving or Bungee Jumping that one has always admired on T.V. but, perhaps, never experienced. The exposure was bound to inspire an artist or a painter. It was a full blown visual fantasy. I indulge in serenity that the sky offers and sit comfortably without any company on seat no. 6 F to soak in overall freshness. The occasional air bumps do not deter my elated spirits.
When I feel a bit hungry, two crisp round cookies, a bar of Perk chocolate and a glass of piping hot coffee are offered by a smiling steward. Having such a tasty beverage at 35,000 feet has its own advantages. Soon after struggling with a prominent daily and a non-descript magazine, I pretend to sleep, to be woken up in time with the sight of neighbourhood of Delhi, bathed in the glow of innumerable but artificial sodium vapour lights. This means that I am finally cut off from the natural, colourful horizon. The announcement regarding Delhi temperature being 390C at night (?) as opposed to 180C at Guwahati dampens my spirits. As if this was not enough, the approach to the earmarked runway takes longer than expected.
At 8.42 PM, when air craft was barely 500 feet above ground and that its stationary sisters were distinctly visible, our air craft, in a spur of moment, began gaining height once again and got diverted to dark sky in no time. Sharp at 8.52 PM, the Commander informs that the instruction of Air Control to move to runway no. 3 was given at the last moment. But for the expert handling by him, you could not possibly have read this brush with nature and adventure.
We had a miraculous escape, though most of the passengers were immune or oblivious to the gravity of the situation. It was strange, yet true. On reaching ground at 9.30 PM, I thank the Almighty. Fourteen years down the line, I witness some change when I enter my Delhi home. On the last occasion my people did not know the contents and intricacies of the story “Caught in thin air”, when I had dashed to Delhi, braving a dusty sky from the west. Coming out of thick clouds, on the contrary, I had entered the national capital from the east this time. In 1997, my little son was sleeping to glory. Now being an adult, he was deeply engrossed in studies. DT, who had instantly grabbed the ‘saved’ dinner packet once, gleefully accepts the Spice Jet packet but does not show any inclination to consume. Perhaps the mobile phone message had made all the difference. They were already aware of tense moments of a flight which had more fun than fantasy. In the changed circumstances, praying to God was collective and more passionate. One can write and write but sharing some exciting and memorable moments in a concise way is a good food for thought for posterity. I suppose, that keeps one kicking and away from complacency. (20/05/2011)

Shake, Rattle & Roll: Spirit of Rongali Bihu

Rongali Bihu marks the beginning of Assamese New Year. It is a festival of joy, coinciding with similar celebrations in West Bengal, Punjab, Manipur, Orissa, Kerala, Tamil Nadu etc. During the festival, everyone is in a jovial mood, singing and dancing with peer group or family. Mostly people throng their native places, leaving the cities deserted. It is the right moment to catch up with joint family and re strengthen the age-old bond. R.B. is the most popular and important among three Bihus celebrated. Other two being Bhogali Bihu (during Makar Sankranti) and Kongali Bihu (immediately after Diwali).
First day, known as Goru Bihu happens to be the last day of the previous year. On this day, cows are washed and worshipped. The second day, known as Manuh (human) Bihu, falls on the first day of the New Year.
Suddenly the whole environment changes together with the change in weather. Dresses of ‘other’ cultures give way to ethnic, yet expensive attire, both for women and men. People in general are so meticulously dressed that they give an impression as if marriages are taking place every day at the drop of hat.
Having made up my mind to enjoy the festivities from a close angle, I venture into the compound of Ganesh Mandir Community Centre at Khanapara. 11 pm was purposely chosen to get best out of it. As the arena was jam packed, settling down process took almost six hundred seconds. The first offering came in the form of a group song sung beautifully by a dozen little girls, wearing shocking yellow saris with tomato red borders. All of them were seated in a line. For a moment, it was silence in an otherwise noisy setting. They took time but could sing with confidence and poise for full 15 minutes. And, enthralled one and all. It set the ball rolling. Festive fervour was evident all over.
Next followed a dancing and singing troupe of young boys wearing cotton dhotis and muga silk kurtas. They were holding on to their Dhuls, flute, Gaganas, Toka, Pepas etc. In the close vicinity were pretty teenaged girls in heavy ethnic muga silk saris with long sleeve red blouses to give a contrasting effect. Their hair was neatly tied in a khupa. In such dance forms, the boys or men take the lead with hard beating of Dhuls and dancing in a circle. They set the stage literally on ‘fire’, for girls to take over, with their enigmatic smile, attractive facial expressions, graceful steps and ultimate circular movements. The dance comes to an end with vociferous beating of Dhuls and blowing of Pepas. A few selected girls twist and bend close to Pepa and strike a pose to reach the climax. Since the competitive spirit is all pervasive, they are often subjected to a variety of questions by the judges.
Upon conclusion of dance number, it was the time for vocal chord. One expected the usual stuff telecast on T.V. For a change, it was the turn of Goalpara folk songs. An eight member group led by a middle aged tall lady, wearing a chocolate coloured ethnic sari, duly supported by accompanying artists on Ghila, flute, Dhul, three Dotoras (Guitar kind of instruments) and a Sarangi simply mesmerized the audience for next hour. I could not follow the wordings of any of the seven songs but was more than convinced that she was singing straight from heart and that months or years of rehearsal were behind her deep voice. It had originality. It reflected a vibrant culture. She depicted a loud voice, while singing in a ‘Pancham Swar’. The number- Santa Re………….., probably is going to stir my imagination for a long time. A short, unassuming male companion was equally good, whenever he got a chance to sing a duet or indulge decisively into a chorus. The last song was a duet remarkably padded up with a slow, yet graceful dance movements by a dozen toddlers. They performed with care and confidence. They did not belie our expectations. But it was the ‘chocolate’ lady, who rightly occupied the centre stage.

All good things come to an end. This musical evening, being no exception. Two hours of uninterrupted entertainment gave me the needed healing and refreshment at a time when ‘Mission’ fever was at its peak. It may take some time before I lose the effect of the singer from Goalpara. She was too good to be forgotten instantly.
After soaking adequately in the festive spirit, I offer an ice-cream at the dead of the night to Jagannath, my faithful companion. He is half asleep. I return to the so-called modern world along the VIP Road. Over speeding mobikes and automobiles moving in wrong direction, semi-dark avenues, bumpy footpaths, homeless sleeping on pavements and dogs barking in the solitude of the night greet us. But I suppose, my haggard batteries are recharged to face a ‘Mission’ which will only mean business and no fun or frolic.

Reviving Happy Moments of 1983

1983 was the year when India won the World Cricket Cup for the first time. 1983 was also the year that became a turning point of my career. I heard, did not ‘see’ the final match between West Indies and India over radio in the rented accommodation of C.B. at Patna. I happened to be there to take a competitive examination. Not everyone would be glued to radio those days even if India was on the verge of becoming a World Champion. Justifiably, C.B. preferred to attend office on this momentous day. It was hearing and believing. And only a few could afford a TV set.
With this backdrop, I would confess that I have vivid memories of brilliant team work of Mohinder Amarnath, Kapil Dev, Madan Lal, Srikant , Sandhu, Sandeep Patil, Kirti Azad and not to be forgotten, Sunil Gavaskar. Sunny, despite his overall command over game, could not come out with flying colours either in semi-final or final, both low scoring events unlike the stupendous scoring pattern at present. It was Amarnath, who managed to get Man of the Match award with his remarkable all round abilities both in semi-final and final. Thus, a low profile Indian outfit without having a player of the stature of Sachin Tendulkar had not only arrived on the scene but was going to have a decisive say in the years to come.
Scenario was different on 2ndApril 2011 when the coin itself had to be tossed twice, presumably to give a momentary setback to India, tipped as one of the hot favourites. Life came to a standstill at Guwahati at 14.30 hours. There were no radios, however. Part silence was attributed to Bandh call given by ULFA. It was the tenth World Cup final and only the third time when a ‘chasing’ team was expected to register a win. Sentiments and emotions were not only charged. They ran high. Occasional applause was accompanied by beating of drums. Crackers too were being kept ready for the ultimate moment. Telephonic contact confirmed that C.B., who had ignored the importance of 1983 final, had bunked off his office to witness Dhoni’s men in action.
As the time passed by, performances proved simply awesome from both the sides. After initial hiccup, India swung back, slowly and gradually, primarily due to patience and perseverance displayed by Gambhir and Dhoni. The defining moment came at 2300 hrs when Dhoni hit a six to wind up the game in style. It was a stunning finish by the Captain, ensuring a glorious win. Consistent play resulted into fabulous performance. After the narrow miss in the final of 2003 and nightmare of 2007, India came back systematically, grabbing the Cup for the second time in a resounding manner. While Dhoni was adjudged Man of the Match, Yuvraj Singh, having scored 362 runs and taken 15 wickets was rightly declared Man of the Tournament. Both Tendulkar and Zaheer excelled with bat and ball respectively to come close to top their tables.
History was made at Wankhede Stadium. For the first time, a host country won the cup. It was also for the first time that a team chased a high score of 275 with success. India too became only the third country after West Indies and Australia to win the coveted cup more than once.
It was the celebration time for young and old alike. Expression of joy and bonhomie witnessed within the stadium got multiplied along the main throughfares not only within the country but the Indians all over the world were seen in buoyant mood defying the darkness of night. Rather, the TV channels kept the interest alive throughout the night. Tumultuous expressions of neibours of Dhoni, Kohli’s brother, Sehwag’s tiny tot and instant Bhangra act of Harbhajan’s mother were understandable. The cream of celebration, however, was expressed through the elated mood of Gambhir’s grandmother, who was up and kicking even after midnight.
1983 and 2011 are two different eras, according to K.Srikant, a member of 1983 team and current Chairman of selectors. When Cricket has become so dominating and penetrating, it may perhaps be appropriate or sensible to draw a line of comparison with what was in store in the early eighties.
The concept of one day game itself was introduced with a degree of caution. For, the ‘gentlemen’ would not prefer a ‘hurried’ affair. In the old era, it was radio that provided the ball to ball commentary. Ears, and not the eyes had to be alert. Colour TV was yet to make an impact, having been introduced in the country as late as November 1982 with the hosting of ASIAD. Rapid commercialization, which became a foregone conclusion, was yet to begin. There would be no painting of flags on faces or parts of body, leave aside Poonam Pandays, who declared in 2011 to bare all if India was to win. This unusual legacy of South America invariably connected to Soccer was still a far cry.
There would be no ‘yagna’ or mass worship sessions to clinch the cup. Pomp and show was on a low scale. There would be less hype and euphoria and no hysteria guided by naked materialistic considerations. Thunderous applause would be seen but no scantly clad cheer girls or bohemian drummers would appear to entertain the spectators. Tickets were difficult to get even in good old days and may be, black marketing was also resorted to. But these won’t be sold at an unbelievable price of Rs. 35,000 as at Mohali or Rs. 1.5 lakhs at Mumbai. The difference rightly highlights the level of investment both in Cricket and emotions. The Presidents and Prime Ministers would hardly sit in stands to watch a high profile match in the past. Their involvement was confined to sending routine congratulatory messages through their Secretaries.
In the bygone era, cricketers would occasionally get film roles. On the contrary, now, they sell premium fashion products and earn more than the film stars in endorsements. No wonder, emotional attachment with the game is sometimes replaced by emotional fatigue. Coming to degree of response, mainly the youth would go to airport and follow the winners in procession. Nowadays, you have almost whole night of celebrations cutting across all age groups and barriers. In the changed situation the tri-colour flutters around the world in one go. Shall we believe that thanks to the craze for Cricket we are inching towards building a national character?
All said and done, be it 1983 or 2011, one had to lose. And, it was Sri Lanka, despite their better track record in World Cup. In the words of Imran Khan, if India had the advantage of playing at home, it had to also cope up with tremendous pressure. Well done India. Keep up the spirit. Don’t be carried away by the tempting bonanzas. Play the game in the spirit of game. You win or lose for the nation, not for yourself.

Bird Watching

The phenomenon of season is one of the marvellous, enchanting and incredible free gifts of nature. In a normal parlance, one comes across three seasons. A deeper analysis will reveal six. Summer comes as a welcome relief to the pangs of severe winter. Reverse is also true. In between occurs the rainy season which not only balances but also cleans, refreshes and provides necessary succour. Like human beings, the animals and birds like and dislike, hate and relish, detest and enjoy a season or the other. Very few of us during our lifetime, however, take note of or are sensitive to the causes, needs, wishes and aspirations of a wonder called fauna.

Growing realization in this area will be beneficial both to the world and life, that is mild as also wild. Shall we give, therefore, some thought to an activity or a process of development that is sustainable?

To get rid of vagaries of nature, a good deal of inventions and discoveries have gradually become handy for the human beings. One can escape, therefore, the wrath of extreme nature by pressing a tiny and simple button. Why only human beings who can afford? Some of the privileged pets too lead a comfortable and sometimes, luxurious lives. Both in the West and East.

Right from beginning, shooting temperatures and dipping mercuries have propelled movement of thousands of birds from a place of extreme weather to the relatively milder pastures. They quickly learn from each other the habit of locating and then flocking around a water body thousands of miles away. Coming from a far away place, such as, Siberia, China and Afghanistan, these birds of paradise travel in a systematic way for several weeks. Popular destinations are- Bharatpur in Rajasthan, Sukhna in Chandigarh, Bhadkal Lake in Haryana, Mandwi river bank in Goa, Lake in the vicinity of Agartala and several other known and non-descript water bodies across the length and breadth of the country. Their migration period generally is noticed to be from early November to the middle of March.

While doing so, not only they experience much needed relief from the harsh and cold conditions of their habitat, they also feel at home in the company of local birds. It is a pleasure to see them grow and blossom in a new setting. Like any other 'guest,' they possess a sensitive nature. They, do not, however, have a desire to be pampered.

Bird watching during a particular time of the day is an amazingly peaceful and quiet feeling. It elevates mood. It teaches unity and understanding. Chirping of birds resonates. It has tremendous tourism potential apart from ensuring a deep healing touch. It can help in understanding and appreciating nature better. If you soak yourself in its mesmerizing beauty, it can leave a long lasting impact. It can, at the same time, free us from several misconceived notions. It has the capacity and the strength to enable us to move away from the element of artificiality.

For a change, let us attempt to peep into their innocent world whenever and wherever we get a chance. Rather, a bit of our quality time deserves to be devoted to them. They truly live and will facilitate our living. It can be a great learning experience, for, it can teach us the art of caring and sharing.

Shall we, therefore, strengthen our resolve in the dictum- unlike human beings, the birds and animals only give, do not take?