Category: Articles

Dr Meena Shrivastava 

  – Letters written by Mona Lisa and Vinci to each other…Part-2” – Ms. Mohini Hedau – ☆ English Verson – Dr Meena Shrivastava ☆

Part Two

3. Mona Lisa’s reply to Vinci’s letter

O my creator, I am so grateful and thankful to you, but the world has been and will always link us and recognize me as your soulful creation.

Is it really possible to release someone from the soulful bonds as ours’, by simply saying “Go, I have released you from my bond”?

The wound that bled when you hooked me inside a frame with the hammer, is still as much swollen and deeply bruised, how can I stop its throbbing pain?

May be the wound will recover, there will be healing scar on it, but it’s likely that someone will simply uncover it by removing the scar, and then the blood, the swelling and the pain will rejuvenate with vengeance. And that too totally against my wishes!

You released my body, that too halfheartedly, just by murmuring, “go, you are free”

But O, my father, my creator! What about release of my soul?

It is not used to live in the company of this artificially induced instant freedom, it can’t simply afford and bear the burden of the luxury of independent thought process.

Please realize that for so many years I am so much conditioned to serving you as my Master, that I forget that it is psychological and emotional slavery.

Who will accept a woman who does not even have her own shape or any kind of thoughts and emotions?

The present world, in which even a kid boasts of its right to independent existence and demands freedom, is sure to make a fun of me!

What do I say at the end? You gave me identity and took it away at your behest!

You and only you are my protector and my savior!    

4. Mona Lisa’s last letter to Vinci

O my creator, again writing to you!

You told me, “I set you free!”……. thereafter I tried to come out of the picture frame.

I was too troublesome to break the frame that you had set up for me years back!

It was some 600 to 700 years back, that you had imprisoned me within this heavy framework. I was injured, bruised and bled while coming out. But I didn’t mind it. I was now happy go lucky maiden, who wanted to have gala future, a colourful life free from all bonds. I was looking forward to celebrate my freedom like a butterfly coming out of cocoon and wanting to fly high, where even sky was not a limit.

As I was wandering like a freelance teen, I happened to peep in a program. It was a beauty pageant. On the stage there were bold and beautiful young ladies, who were dressed in very glamorous and aesthetic outfits and doing a graceful and confident catwalk. They effortlessly displayed their attractive sandals with such high heels!

I was amazed at their skilful conversation in an alluring language, unheard till then, their self-assertive behaviour and suddenly looked at myself………

My old fashioned, 14^th century worn out dress up, moreover I couldn’t be rated as beautiful from any angle. A horrid reality, I totally lacked eyebrows. I had no spirit of bubbly enthusiasm in mannerism and physique. I was limping very badly as my nerves, muscles and bones had gone into a stage of disused atrophy. I had lost the skill of uttering of even primitive words! So I couldn’t even say hello!

Years back, I was cheerful, positive and self-reliant. See what the wheel of time did to me! I was looking as if I had started reviving from a deep and long lasting coma.

I couldn’t recuperate to assimilate myself with this present day world.

Then I went to a college just in vicinity.  I was mesmerised to notice the groups of zealous and energetic youngsters, floating on overflowing warm waves of lively fervour and zest! They seemed to have guts and courage with a fighting spirit to dream the impossible and look forward to fulfil those dreams! I realized that they had a combo of beauty and brain! Oh and coming back to poor me!

I cannot even synchronize my thoughts with time. My eyes and heart are as blank as ever with no dreams in sight. But, how can I say that? I had many novel colourful dreams flashing in front of my eyes like the ever changing images of a rotating kaleidoscope.

Come on Darling Mona Lisa! Wake up call for you! Haven’t you realized even now that you cannot imagine of living in this mysterious present day world?

Let me come back to my senses and go back to my world of paintings! My frame is eagerly waiting for me.

In my journey I saw the ethereal paintings of Raja Ravi Varma! An adorable and delectable lady clad in a very captivating nine yard sari, respectful in mannerism, each line of her face exuding charm! The sari and ethnic jewellery were so naturally painted, they appeared so realistic as if real ones, put externally on the picture. Oh yes, they had a dazzling three dimensional elusive effect.

I sank in a flood of depression, seeing this picture of extra-terrestrial elegant charm.

When I looked at myself comparing to that divine lady, I realized that I was clad in very shabby  clothes, lacked ornaments and worst of all, I didn’t have a bit of eyebrows, which are regarded as the symbols of feminine beauty.

Then I happened to visit ‘Jehangir Art Gallery’! I saw so many paintings there, then the unimaginable thing happened. Oh my God, painting of a nude model! I started trembling then and there, I was about to faint! Is this the reality? So terrible! So horrid and ugly?

Now I was worn out, tired of thinking about my original form. Oh God! Please tell me who am I?

And then I slowly discovered the thread of memory leading to my lost identity. I remembered the wonderful frame which adored me so much, which embraced me eagerly with such affection for year after year! Yes, I wanted to return to my original pictorial form! Oh my creator Vinci, thanks a lot, I realized that my peace of mind returned, as soon as I entered in my cosy and protective frame.

I could rediscover my value, my unparalleled celestial appeal, which draws lakhs and lakhs of tourists. Year after year they are still madly guessing about the secret of my ever mysterious smile. My value is almost rocket high. I am Mona Lisa, proud of myself. I am ‘the magnum opus’ created by the genius of my creator Leonardo da Vinci the Great! I can boast proudly as the world’s costliest painting! (With a tag of almost 1000 million plus Dollars!)

I know you were always around me to help. My life and my existence are due to you! I am all yours from inside out! I will remain for ever your creation!

How can I forget beneficence and obligations of my father? In fact I should not think of that for ever!

O my creator, you are my father, my Lord, You are everything to me! I apologise to you for offending you so much. Again and again I say with heavy heart, please forgive me! Wont you?   

Note- I am thankful to Ms. Mohini Hedau Madam, for permitting me to translate and send above documents for publication. Her contact number is 9822940912. 

© Dr Meena Shrivastava

Thane

Mobile no-9920167211

Email- [email protected]    

≈ Editor – Shri Hemant Bawankar/Editor (English) – Captain Pravin Raghuvanshi, NM ≈

Dr Meena Shrivastava 

  – “Letters written by Mona Lisa and Vinci to each other…Part-1” – Ms. Mohini Hedau –  ☆ English Verson – Dr Meena Shrivastava ☆

(This is a freelance translation loosely based on the original chapters written by Mrs Mohini Hedau in her Marathi book entitled ‘Manatle (मनातलं)’ Based on central theme of an imaginary exchange of letters between the great painter (and much more) Leonardo da Vinci and his immortal creation Mona Lisa, the four letters take you to the world of an artist and his ‘Still’ creation.)

‘The Mona Lisa’ is a half-length portrait painting by Italian artist Leonardo da Vinci, regarded as the most valuable painting of the world. The creator of this amazing and marvelous painting Vinci was a polymath, brilliant world-famous painter and a renowned architect. He studied in depth anatomy and physiology of human body through his dissecting skills.

I am crystalizing in words the thoughts that arose in my mind, when I saw the painting ‘The Mona Lisa’. Just as Mona Lisa is a fiction, so are these letters!

It may be called as a wide and wild contemplation. 

 * Part One *

1. The letter of Mona Lisa to Leonardo da Vinci

I have been thinking for many days, rather centuries to write to you, but ultimately gathered courage now to write to you.  

So many things accumulated for long… 

To start with, how should I address you?

Should I address you as my father?

But you belong to mortal human race, whereas I as a creation, though inanimate object come under the category of ‘immortal’!

No, No!

Brahma? The creator of Universe! Yes, that seems appealing, you wrote my destiny…….!

And you created me with your own hands.     

You drew my sketch and filled me with realistic colours, so majestically that I became exceptional beauty, but a beauty masked by curse.

One eye of mine is smiling lovingly, whereas the other one is shedding tears! But this very unique thing made it a classy painting of a ‘beauty’. I attained unparalleled name and fame all over the world, a value of lakhs and lakhs dollars!

You are the creator, you are the gifted and talented one!

You are a biologist, scientists are still engaged in exploring the research you did centuries back!         

You are a majestic architect.

In fact you are a polymath!

But……

Didn’t you feel like asking me even once, as to why I was shedding tears?

You didn’t even bother to find out the reason behind it……

Why so?

But you marketed this very agony of mine.

And by the way, you didn’t even feel like allowing me to weep with both eyes, so that the catharsis would lead to shedding the free flow of incessant tears……

You have not given a thought over allowing me to laugh heartily like jaunty, cheerful and innocent young girl…..

Or you wanted me to be like a masterpiece?

A unique designer beautiful model?  

2. Vinci in reply to Mona Lisa’s letter

My dear child, 

Got your letter.

My emotions are confluent with grief and happiness mingled hand in hand, after reading your heart rendering words! Is it really true? Have I imprisoned you in the chains of duel feelings? Are you floating and sinking on the waxing and waning tearful tides swarming with joy and sadness? 

No my lovely baby, you are only mine,

You are not just my soulful creation of an art form called a painting, you are my dainty and delectable daughter in real sense!

My emotions and feelings were overflowing, when I was instilling life inside you with each line of colour drawn on canvas.

My genes were virtually getting transferred to you through the mere touch of my painting brush. It was no longer a simple medium to transfer colours on canvas.

Anthropology quotes that the daughter inherits genes from mother, it is undoubtedly a fact, but what about poor father?

Is it his destiny to be in frame of fiction for ever?

My darling, it was an era of 14^th century. I was studying anatomy then.      

In that period I visualized your picture in my dreams and may be in that phase of learning human body, I committed an error!

Is it possible to postulate and put on canvas each and every thought that origins in our heart and soul?

I hope dear, you realize that it is not possible.

With the in depth studies of carbon dating, now I can predict from which tree your canvas might have been manufactured. Is it likely that the canvas too might be sadly shedding silent tears, thinking about the blows borne by the innocent tree? Can it happen that with the involvement of similar kind of distressful sufferings it is bonding with you? It may have entangled you with the tightening tentacles of torment.

Do you want to set yourself free from all these bonds?

Hey my child! From now on, be happy, that I free you from every bond of every kind!

Please feel yourself as you wish to! Go, take a deep breath of fresh oxygen! Enjoy your freedom and fly high with the newly found wings! 

But be sure, wherever you go, the world will recognize you only as my sole and soul creation!

Is it that easy to forget the signature remitted on your whole persona by your own genus?  

But you are welcome to establish your own independent identity. I would love to see you grooming yourself in that manner!

I am fully aware that you hate your painter.

You can now learn musical notes, let your soul dance daringly and liberally on those notes.

Oh not again! I apologise! Am I committing the same mistake by creating a new version of yours? 

My loving daughter, please forgive me! Enjoy life as you want to! For it’s your life!  

To be continued…

© Dr Meena Shrivastava

Thane

Mobile no-9920167211

Email- [email protected]    

≈ Editor – Shri Hemant Bawankar/Editor (English) – Captain Pravin Raghuvanshi, NM ≈

Shri Ajeet Singh 

(We present an article ‘Special on the Kargil Vijay Divas’ written by Shri Ajeet Singh ji, Ex-Director (News), Doordarshan.)

☆ Special on the Kargil Vijay Divas ☆ Shri Ajeet Singh ☆

The war I reported 24 years ago…

Kargil was largely a deserted town when I entered it for four days to report the Kargil war. I was part of an army conducted media party from Srinagar. The party comprising correspondents  from major media networks had waited for over three weeks in Srinagar to get army permission to move into the battle field.

I was travelling in the DAVP van along the Film Division team. They had stocked sufficient quota of bread, butter, biscuits and rice to cope with the situation of getting stranded in some cut off place in war zone.

I had a satellite phone too beside my taperecorder. 

Crossing the 12000 feet high Zojila, our first halt was a Bofor Guns battery that was pounding the Pakistan army positions across the high hill to provide covering fire to our advancing troops there. That was quite a show for the visual media and the artillery unit obliged them abundantly. We were convinced about the efficacy of the gun that otherwise was mired into allegations of commission in its purchase from Swedan during a previous regime.

Shortly ahead was a briefing by senior army officers about the area and the position of indian army. The Tololing ridge overlooking Drass town had been cleared of the intruders who comprised  of Pakistan army soldiers and militants. 

Some young officers were in high spirits as we talked to them during the lunch hour. I gathered that main focus at that time was on the Tiger Hill that stands tall behind Drass town. Flash lights of bombardment with guided missiles were visible as  we crossed Drass  taking a right turn towards Kargil town.

The narrow road runs along a river and some parts of it are in the firing range of Pakistani troops sitting on high hills on the Kaksar range.

A BSF man stopped our vehicles at a checkpost for some urgent precautions. 

“You are in the firing range of the enemy. Keep a distance of about 100 meters between your vehicles. No lights during darkness. Drive fast and don’t stop even if you are fired upon”.

The last instruction was quite chilling. We saw the wreckage of some vehicles down in the river and that heightened the fear. 

By late evening we reached a hotel in Kargil.  The town had faced daily artillery shelling from across the Line of Control. 

The hotel was a three storied structure, but all media persons wanted the first-floor rooms. By now they had learnt that the top floor could face a direct hit from an artillery shell and if the shell exploded in the hotel compound, its splinters could get into ground floor rooms. 

DC Kargil too was functioning from a nearby hotel as his office was in the firing range.

Most people from Kargil town had been shifted to tents at a safe place some distance away on the Zanskar road. We visited them the next day to listen to their tales of woe. They had abandoned their animals as there was none to look after them in home steads.

Next day we were taken on to the road that leads to the Aryans inhabited five villages along the Indus river. Aryans have features quite different from the majority Ladakhi people.

They support local flowers in their headgears except for the time when there is some mourning in their family.

They usually work as labourers for the Army.

It was an Aryan shepherd who first noticed the armed intruders and informed the Army. A reccy team from the army was ambushed by the Pakistani soldiers. All its members were brutally killed and their highly mutilated bodies were handed over to the Indian Army. This was in clear violation of the international norms. 

We talked to the Aryan people who gave details of Pakistani intruders.

Back into the hotel next evening, the owner cum manager came to my room as I just finished filing my despatch to All India Radio newsroom in New Delhi.  

He said he knew me through my frequent bylines in AIR bulletins till about an year ago. I had functioned as AIR’s Senior Correspondent in Srinagar for over six years before being transferred to Delhi.

We got talking and I found in him an interesting person. 

“Sir, this is not correct that Indian Army didn’t have information regarding Pakistani plans to intrude and capture positions on high hills the following spring. They had full details from their spying agents in Pakistan”.

I interrupted him saying how could he be so sure.

Sir, a letter containing all details of the areas of intrusion was received in October of 1998. It was in Urdu and I was called to the Army Officers Mess to read its contents as they couldn’t read Urdu”, he elaborated.  He sounded some convincing. 

And at one point, he even started sobbing. I tried to console him.

“Sir, Pakistan is not an option for us, the Kargil people. We are Shias and we know what Shias are facing in Pakistan. We have to stay in India only. There is no other home for us. 

“The officer who called me was also drunk. He might not have even properly listened to me as I read the letter”.

He was a bit agitated and somewhat desperate.

I told the matter in confidence to an army officer. He said, ” Letters  from the spies come every year as winter comes and we vacate the higher pickets. These are duly noticed but contents are found highly exaggerated or even totally baseless.  Some of the spies are double agents. You never know if these letters were planted by Pakistan agencies in an effort to extend our resources. It is extremely difficult to man higher pickets during winters.

I didn’t report the story. I couldn’t. On the fourth day, as the press party headed back to Srinagar,

The Army spokesman in New Delhi, Colonel Bikram Singh announced that the Tiger Hill had been recaptured. Col. Bikram Singh was to become the Chief of the Army Staff in due course of time. In between he had a stint in Anantnag as a Brigadier. 

The saga of the recapture of the Tiger Hill was to unfold in weeks and months to come. Sepoy Sanjay Kumar was to be decorated with the highest gallantry award of Param Vir Chakra on the following Republic Day of 2020.

That is the history that would continue to be told every year  every time anyone talks of  how the Kargil war was won by brave indian soldiers defeating the evil designs and machination of a  devious enemy, defeated many times but still not giving up.

© Shri Ajeet Singh 

Shri Ajeet Singh ji is a freelance journalist based at Hisar in Haryana. He retired as Director of News, Doordarshan Hisar in 2006.

Mo. – 9466647037

≈  Blog Editor – Shri Hemant Bawankar/Editor (English) – Captain Pravin Raghuvanshi, NM ≈

Shri Ashish Mulay

  – “What AI is all about…” –  ☆ Shri Ashish Mulay ☆

What AI is all about… through my lens – Ashish Mulay

Everybody’s talking AI these days. but not about the core impact of it… Talks on tables, restaurants and in nerdy chats are mostly of surface level impact of AI…

Like change in jobs, changes in the way we work..etc. But almost 99% missed one point – ‘It will change the way we think’ ..How? Let me explain..

But before that we must understand the basic concept of power and it’s structure..

Let me give you one example:

A soldier kills one person on ground

but he does so on the orders given by his commander..

His commander takes order from the king or the highest authority … Now is the catch.

We might here think that ultimate power lies with king. but no… king does not give orders on his whim.

He gives orders based on what he thinks is the ‘Right thing to do’… or whom should be killed is decided by kings’ definition of ‘who is wrong’…

So, you see, the one who defines the ‘right and wrong’ in the head of king (or in the head of society these days) holds the real power and in a very subtle way controls the world.

Here comes the AI… you might wonder, ’how come?’

Let me explain:

What most people do on internet?

they ‘ask.’

like:

what’s the average salary of project manager?

what’s the meaning of yoga, God and all divine stuff?

is it right to have sex before marriage?

is it right to be in particular relationship?

how is life in Bangalore?

what’s the meaning of love and life?

iphone vs android what’s better?

show me photos of riots.

search real photo of hanuman.

and so on….

What they are actually looking for is the confirmation for their definition of right or wrong. Today they are asking to google, which shows them multiple options. BUT

AI will give them definite answer. Try ChatGPT … and when the trend is set. Most of new generation will take decisions based on what AI says. I am not talking of tomorrow but years after tomorrow.

Now you will understand why world billionaires are spending like mad on AI. And why valuations are so high of relatively small AI companies.

Remember, the one who controls the definition controls the world…

In my opinion we need real visionaries and not AI visions for they will never understand our pain… and pain starts beyond the realm of Logic.

Let’s see where it all goes by…

Till then ‘Have a nice day!’ and you know I mean it…

 

© Shri Ashish Mulay

Sangli 

≈ Editor – Shri Hemant Bawankar/Editor (English) – Captain Pravin Raghuvanshi, NM ≈

Shri Ajeet Singh 

(We present an article ‘Memories of the Victory Day 1971’ written by Shri Ajeet Singh ji, Ex-Director (News), Doordarshan.)

☆ Victory Day Special – Memories of the Victory Day 1971 ☆ Shri Ajeet Singh ☆

Bliss was it to be in the newsroom of All India Radio Simla this day 50 years ago. And it was heaven to be a young Sub-Editor listening to the relay of Prime Minister Indira Gandhi addressing Parliament on the fall of Dhaka garrison after the 16-day long Bangladesh liberation war. Clapping and celebratory gestures erupted as she announced, “Dhaka is now the free capital of a free nation”.

Member after member hailed the indian victory over the Pakistani forces. I still remember Srinagar MP Shamim Ahmad Shamim who while congratulating the Prime Minister said, “She has not only created a new history but also a new geography”.

It was a bigger bliss for me as I was to read that evening’s regional news bulletin as our regular Newsreader veteran Ramkumar Kale had taken ill since the eruption of war itself.

A senior announcer    had been very keen to read a news bulletin. He frequently demanded to be given a chance but Assistant News Editor Puran Chand didn’t oblige.

In his usual jovial manner, the announcer would plead that he had been PA to actor Premnath and was experienced enough.

The first reason to deny him reading a news bulletin was that he

was a perpetual paan-eater and  we non-paan eaters were scared of his spitting paan while talking. Some time we even told him that.

“Paan is essential for a clear throat. An announcer has to speak a lot. Paan, therefore, is a must for him. Your newsreader Ramkumar Kale speaks only for 10 minutes. That is no job. I speak for six hours”. 

Ramkumar Kale would say that job of a newsreader and that of an announcer are quite different. “An announcer could make a mess of a news bulletin if he didn’t practice off air in a studio for one month and listened to his recordings under professional guidance”.

When the December 1971 India- Pakistan war broke out, Newsreader Ramkumar Kale fell sick and the Regional News Unit Shimla did not have a panel of casual newsreaders.

It was decided, though reluctantly, to try the senior Announcer for newsreading as he only was available on announcer duty that day.

The jovial Announcer was thrilled. “You should listen to the bulletin today. You may forget Ramkumar Kale”.

We pleaded with him to practice hard as this was his first chance. He didn’t care much.

I, as standby news editor in the studio, wished him all the best.

Hardly two minutes into the bulletin, he closed the fader switch and said, ” this bloody thing is choking my breath”.

I gestured him not to talk and concentrate on the bulletin. He opened the fader and read the next item but to close it again saying, “you will kill me today”.

I showed my eyes hinting that he should calm down and read the bulletin.

At half time, he rose from his seat after closing the fader. I was shocked. I just got hold of him by his arm and gave a big rap on his back dragging him to the seat.

There was a gap of about half a minute or so. The Duty Officer and the Engineer on Duty rushed to the studio. By that time a humbled Announcer was in the chair and reading bulletin at a much slower speed. He threw no tantrums.

As he, somehow, finished the bulletin, the Duty Officer and the Engineer-on-Duty,  still in the studio, wanted to know what had happened. The Announcer mumbled something that wasn’t much audible.

They turned to me. I told them it may be a short studio failure. Check it up tomorrow.

I told the factual story in the newsroom. Everybody laughed. ANE Puranchand said, “No more chance taking with announcers. Ajeet Singh, you will read bulletins from tomorrow. Take these old bulletins home and practice. Will record you off air tomorrow at 2 PM”.

The jovial Announcer was friend from the following day but he never pestered for news reading.

And I read the bulletins for the next about three months.

1971 war had ended after 17 days. We had started an additional daily bulletin that continued long after.

The bulletins were also used to be relayed through a public address system on the Mall Road Shimla where people would crowd to listen to the latest on the war front. It was still the Radio age. Television had arrived but was still in its infancy, confined mainly to the national capital Delhi.

Due to some strategic consideration, Jalandhar and other stations of All India Radio used to stop transmission early as the enemy could locate the position of their transmitters and bombard, especially during night when engaging them was rather difficult. Shimla located among hills didn’t suffer this disadvantage. So it was listened to even in the plains of Punjab and Haryana.

It did give some sort of image or recognition to me.  People in my home village near Panipat would tell me having listened to the bulletins from Shimla. It did please me.

Every experience makes one a better person. By and by I became more confident.

War ended and bulletins also came back to development and local stories. After about two months of my news reading, came a letter from some listener saying that one Ajeet Singh who read news that day mispronounced

the word ‘zila’ as ‘jila’ 13 times. He was right as we counted the word was used 14 times in the bulletin, may be he missed one count. I improved not only that but started rehearsing for all Urdu words. Mr. Puranchand ANE was an Urdu man and a big help.

Newsreader Kale joined after about three months. He trained me in voice acculturation.

Jasdev Singh, the ace sports commentator used to do Newsreel from Delhi. I got hooked to that.

During 1980s and 90s when I was in J&K,  SFH Naqvi was incharge of the Newsreel section in the News Services Division in Delhi. The Statesman used to carry detailed review of radio programmes of the week those days. One of my despatches was praised therein. HT also appreciated some despatch later.

Joint Director of News, Jag Mohan Lal Mathur rang me up once to say that one of my Samayiki programme was appreciated in the Director’s meeting following its newspaper review. I asked him if he had listened to the programme, he said none had. Newspaper reference only thrilled everybody. Now tape was being located to listen in the evening meeting.

Instances are numerous but I think this grinding must have shaped me to be awarded the Akashvani Award for the “Correspondent of the Year” for 1990.

It was all very thrilling that took me through about 20 years in J&K . The Kargil war, Hazratbal shrine seize and a lot  more.

Thank you dear jovial Announcer, thanks Puranchand ji, Kale ji, SFH Naqvi and everybody who helped me shape what I am.

©  Shri Ajeet Singh 

Shri Ajeet Singh ji is a freelance journalist based at Hisar. He retired as Director of News , Doordarshan Hisar in 2006.

Mo. – 9466647037

≈  Blog Editor – Shri Hemant Bawankar/Editor (English) – Captain Pravin Raghuvanshi, NM ≈

Shri Ajeet Singh 

(We present an article ‘All ‘Reborn’ on the 15th of August!’ written by Shri Ajeet Singh ji, Ex-Director (News), Doordarshan.)

☆ Independence Day Special – All ‘Reborn’ on the 15th of August! ☆ Shri Ajeet Singh ☆

Dr. Subhash Kalra, an 82-year old senior citizen of Hisar in Haryana, celebrates his birthday every year on the 15th of August. A senior citizens’ group , the Vanprastha, gives him the honour of unfurling the national flag at the Senior Citizens Club to mark the occasion.

Last year he wished everybody Happy Independence Day and surprised by disclosing that all his brothers, sisters and cousins also celebrate their birthdays on the 15th of August in different towns they live.

How could that be? Coincidence could be in respect of one or two members being born on a particular day, but about a dozen people born on the same date in an extended family, though in different years, seemed almost impossible.

Dr. Kalra narrated the story behind it .

His family migrated in 1947 from Kamalia town in Pakistan. He was about nine years old and remembers the hardships the family went through in their journey from Kamalia to Lahore and Amritsar.

A very young child, just a few months old, couldn’t stand the heat and humidity of tough rail journey. He died. How to bury his body ?

The family elder, his Tayaji, a freedom fighter, took the dead child in his hands and let it slip into the Ravi as the train crossed over the river bridge.

The extended family of about 50 people, young and old, reached a refugee camp in Amritsar. The women were wailing for the dead child.

Tayaji asked all to gather immediately. He announced that nobody will grieve for what they had lost. Rather, all will celebrate what they achieved, the gift of azadi.

He further announced that from then onward everyone would declare and celebrate his or her birthday on the 15th of August. Years of birth would, of course, be different.

Tayaji’s logic was that arriving alive in India in that madness of violence of partition, was a rebirth for everyone.

And everybody has been following his dictates since then.

Tayaji and other elderly people of the family are no more. The children of partition time are now themselves elderly. They recall the incident regarding their birthday every year on the 15th of August.

Dreams of azadi were very intense among the people of the era of the freedom struggle.

Prof. Swaraj Kumari, a retired teacher from the Haryana Agricultural University, Hisar, says that she was born about a year before the Independence came in 1947. Her father, a freedom fighter, named her Swaraj as he thought she was gift of God prior to the soon-to-come, azadi that was so much in the air.

Another university teacher, Prof. A.L. Khurana says that the joy of celebrating the Independence Day was very intense in the initial years of post -independence era and has been going down since then. “Early in the morning, an elderly gentleman named Mr. Bedi, would ride a horse and move throughout Hisar city exhorting people to gather at the site of the Independence Day celebrations.

Those were the days.

Happy Independence Day.

©  Shri Ajeet Singh 

Shri Ajeet Singh ji is a freelance journalist based at Hisar. He retired as Director of News , Doordarshan Hisar in 2006.

Mo. – 9466647037

≈  Blog Editor – Shri Hemant Bawankar/Editor (English) – Captain Pravin Raghuvanshi, NM ≈