One day when you are truly alone

Today is day off in Ahmedabad for voting of the third of the four phases of Lok Sabha elections. The air is positive here, but not one candidate or party is fully convincing. Not one talks truly for understanding the culture, development needs or economics of the country, but the righteous media blare for everyone to go out and vote – either for change or for preserving values. They instigate to go and vote for political parties who are clearly speaking their own undertones. For a voter left alone in this democracy for a while, he doesn’t has a choice, except, ‘to vote’ or ‘not to vote’.

In my view, to vote means one hopes at least for either of the following –

• To get some monkeys to represent and run the society
• The new elected may be better than the last
• To reduce the vote margin of a contestant one thinks truly sucks

Not to vote means the individual either –

• Doesn’t cares, or
• Doesn’t know who to vote for, or
• Protests on the quality of contesting candidates and parties

If any of the bullets I listed above imply to you, so as to not to be alone I suggest you better communicate your stand clear when you either vote or you don’t vote. Its your choice, its your democracy. There is no silver bullet (pun).

Through Sartre’s Nausea

One of the book I had found tough to read in grey surrounds of England is Sartre’s “Nausea”, which I finally completed in Ahmedabad recently; perhaps because it was still brighter in my close confined room here than the gardens of Surrey. The rounded rectangular orange-whitish ticket for London underground used as bookmark indicated the date as 25th Oct 07, and so I realise it had been some time since I started with this book. Through this book, many times I felt Nausea too, but in my head. The humanist constantly battered by the realist is an interesting thing to look here.

Sartre's maiden published work, looked very personal to me and led me closer to understand why he must have declined accepting 1964 Nobel prize in literature, with the argument that he has every moral reason to do so.

Make sure you have enough brightness around before you pick up this book.

Kaddu v/s Tomatoes

A two kilo kaddu costs fifty paisa in an Eastern Bihari village where it grows. Fifty kilometres off, not so much a well off place but a district town centre, the same thing costs 10 rupee. In the same town, tomatoes cost ten rupees a kilo and most people cannot easily afford either. Overnight distance across in Uttaranchal where the same tomatoes come from, the farmer will give you the tomatoes for free because they are going to rot anyways. So, people in both places eat most of what they grow, they keep their habits intact, and therefore build a cultural culture. However, inside them also builds up desires for mobile phones, cars, electricity and so on. In London, the very next day the same tomatoes and kaddus sell for 100 -200 rupees, but, from somewhere else. And, while all this happens, people queue up in government offices (note: 50 kms from the same villages) and wait for the relief of meagre 2000 rupees for the floods that happened last year.

So what the main cause of this problem ? Lack of access and infrastructure clearly one reason. But then whose job is it to build the simplest thing - the road?

People (waiting at the government office): Whose? The government’s! It’s their Road and building department (RnB) who is supposed to make roads.

Sir, you are an executive engineer from the RnB – why are the rural roads in such bad condition?

Answer: Hmm, but the rural roads specifically are taken care by another department called ‘rural roads depeartment’.

But sir, what about the conditions of your roads?

Answer: No! they are fine. We get instructions and we build them. I know from Patna, we are low on budgets.

Me thinking – If the peoples get better roads, although it will be much easier to visit back, the migration will become easier. They can come back home more frequently. Usually from Punjab, where they can work as farm labourers growing wheat and Makka we Indians are proud of.

Throw some light here as well, please

My last post day-before could well have been a rant. But, last night I spent in a village which hasn’t seen its own electricity ever, except a community solar lamp defunct since last 2 months. Villagers charge their mobile phones from the neighbouring village shop 3 kilometers away, to which they usually walk, because cycles are a little expensive, or not needed.

Today 50 kilometers away, here in Saharsa there was no electricity for most of the day, and also the night.

And all over the world, they are switching off their lights for an hour to bring awareness about climate change.

Here. I am only asking for a small change.

Because, atleast blog readers are more understanding human beings, and I hope they didn’t keep their laptops on while their house lights were switched off. I think, bloggers are better people than the sarkari officials because aleast I can reach to them! The latter I know are bad with computers, busy with elections, conducting inter exams peacefully, and are signing, signing and just signing...

POWER POLICY – jugglery of words

No, nothing about the Indian elexions this april here, but this bijli ki samasya in this country. The UPS box behind me wheezes with a half 100 volt power supplies, while the lightning crackles with the same rhythm, every five minutes left or right I see cracks in the sky.

In the UK, where 'the energy' is critical to their functioning and they say is under continuous threat from Russia, and sustainability concerns now in the market, I remember a newspaper advocating shift in the way energy is consumed there; said- “New generation power plants in the country”.

Here I had just read in today’s newspaper- “New power generation plants in the country”.

Just a swap of words I guess.

Ahmedabad to Saharsa again

EDITED

Unlike last time this time I made it on time; yes! from Gujarat to a Bihari town called Saharsa in exactly 18 hours (plus minus 30 minutes). Especially, it is always exciting when you catch your flight running, and they give the chauffeur driven bus all to yourself in the nice airport in Ahmedabad. But, whether the spicejet or IA, your neighbour has turned into an individualist, he is not interested in talking to you. And for you, the same individualist, richer guy, want to know how the trains are cleaned? Either it’s a teenager with both fixed legs inutile so he crawls, or a navel exposing kid because the lowermost button of his shirt is not important, or the shirt’s a couple of sizes small. Compassion or pity, they live on your tips dear passenger, dear citizen.

In Bihar platform no. 1, the train has its one destination written in Gujarati, saying Amdavad. It comes into attention because for a moment the brain is not able to connect something written in Gujarati in a Hindi spoken part of the world (or for that matter Maithili or Bhojpuri).

Makkhis are in plenty. Closer look tells that they live in groups, with 20 to 50 in one, and each group a couple of feet away from each other. In the amidst it feels home no matter strangers pushing onto you when walking, and leaning onto you when sitting waiting for time to pass. The conversations though start up don’t go beyond a point, because it needs at least one of the two to sustain a conversation.

Newspapers are shouting for change, probably not knowing but envisioning what this change means. I share a few brittania cakes with the newspaper selling kid.

In the train, the five newspapers you have bought from different vendors are not yours because you can read only one at a time. You must give it to your surrounding neighbours who will casually ask you for one. You can treat him with chai too and then all his love and travel food is yours. Littees are a must have in Bihar, preferably homemade ones if you can lay your hands on a few by just being nice.

This land is your land – let it flood.

Land, other than atmosphere and water, is arguably the most obvious physical entity that connects heavily to the universe. Eventually it belongs to no-one, or inversely, everyone, and probably though its ownership is never affirmative stays with the affirmative.

I recall Bihar, then the Indian history, and now these recent contemporary times that it is the holding of this land that can be blamed as the root cause of all the conflicts; within the guise of being a thankful source of pride and food. This want to call the land his own has given the man a tendency to divide, and for which he even won’t hesitate the third time to kill, even within his family too. Some people will make use of the second chance to agree and then to migrate.

So, if a flood comes and submerges this land, isn’t it helping solve the problem in a way? The setback is that this water eventually drains to the sea.