The folklore of flood

The people of villages in Bihar they live in harmony, most villages are situated closer by when compared to other parts of the world. There are people from almost all religion, caste, income-status, and so on. Evening Bhajans and folk songs are a routine at these fertile and feudal lands, which hasn’t seen much progress so far. Perhaps the rich fertile alluvial land, the perpetual supply of soil from Himalayan erosion and floods, gives strength to all the men to stick to their viewpoint. 

Bhola Rajak is a routine performer with his Harmonium and heartful cracksome vocals. Others would assist him with percussion instruments such as Tabla, making arrangements for dari, mike, fetching chairs for elderly, and so on. A loud-speaker masted as high as possible, which would be ten odd feet, or even higher, is a continuous invitation. Recently, most songs of Bhola and partner have been devotional songs, songs devoted to Gods, otherwise also known as Bhajans. They also play Folk songs which may sound similar to Bhajans to the uninformed ears, but hey, we know what Folk songs mean. They are truthful and unsophisticated but intelligent structures which portray the struggles of the times they are played in. Folklores attempt to transfer wisdom, mostly through a story. Unlike Bhajans, Folk songs usually do not take God that seriously. Bhola, to his own as well his audience’s demand has been keen on Bhajans, and on my inquiry if he has his own orginial Folk songs as well, more specific my question that if floods are so common to you you must have some flood songs under your belt. He could not refuse my friendly request and played one on floods for next ten minutes.

It is also quite likely that he made up the song just there right on spot. The song had kanyas- three of them, a bamboo raft on which they floated, a snake on top of the raft which they find later, and finally encountering robbers at the end down-stream where the flooded river slowed. Now, where should these three helpless women go? In front is a deep well, and now behind a valley. And, all of a sudden, the dangerous looking snake transmogrifies into Lord Krishna who then took good care of the robbers and the three helpless women too.

Oh my God…

***

Bhajan: (N.) Song devoted to God.

Dari: (N.) Floor rug

Harmonium: (N.) Portable Wind based instrument which has keys. Modern synthesizers/casios come from this.

Kanya: (N.) Female of the human species

Mike: (N.) An Indian alternative for sound amplification. Altertive to Mic./ Microphone.

Tabla: A Melodic percussion instrument which comes in pair.

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...

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.

Entry in Bihar

Flying by domestic air plane so can work on sustainable bamboo construction. Doesn’t seem right, right? Spice jet serves packed sandwiches but no tea or coffee. Them could actually stand up to their name by letting a common hawker setup a small chai shop inside the plane itself. Then will actually call it a no frills airline. Don’t I say right? Indian Airlines plane starts late by an hour, the train drops late by an hour. Things don’t change fast, right? Patna, where every man, a stranger, we talked to tells us to take care of ourselves and not talk to strangers. Is it right? Big crowds with green flags filling up the road, with red flags filling up the platforms, is it right? At night Saharsa station is crowded with a minimum five thousand laying or sleeping. Can't say wrong or right. The lazy caretaker after an hour of honking at the hotel gate tells all rooms are occupied by executives, and it is 12’ midnight – what if you have booked a room, is it any time to come? Not right.