Ecological Intelligence

Ecological Intelligence

I just finished reading the second novel by a great Marathi writer who was a historian, sociologist and naturalist all rolled into one. He was the great ‘Go Ni Da’ or Gopal Neelkanth Dandekar whom I had met during my schooldays trek and stay at Rajgad .

This man was revered by entire Marathi community across board from illiterate to scholar due to his down to earth writing about the people of Maharashtra .He occupies a high pedestal even in Maruti Chitampalli’s  magnum Opus  autobiographical work – Chakwa Chandana .

I had read his novel ‘Padghavali’ an intense story of a small hamlet in Konkan which gets corrupted due to poverty , greed  and ambition while the protagonist battles to uphold the integral fabric of the settlement preventing the  disintegration  due to exodus and gradual relocation of its inhabitants  to metropolitan Mumbai. In the last moving chapter after significant loss of the good people the woman protagonist who is about to board the ship for Mumbai hurriedly gets off the boat to spend last days in the same village where she has witnessed glory and experienced love ,grace and gratitude. GoNiDa paints a very vibrant picture of the village and the upper caste treachery of some of its vicious members against the humble farm laborers or poor caste brethren who   succumb to the cunning deceptions one by one at times eliminating self by immolation.

‘Machivarcha Budha ‘ is from the same genre. Unlike Padghavali it is a short story but a very intense and scintillating one. It is a story of one’s roots ,of nature ,of life and of accomplishment in paradigm shift.It is a story of liberation and  transcendence of a single ,simple old  farmer  who comes back to his home on a mountain slope to stay all by himself after spending most of his life in the lower income ghettoes on Mumbai and lives on valiantly to appease himself and his ancestors trying to gain the self respect by toiling hard to raise crops and make a living .And while doing so befriends a dog, goats and squirrels  to keep company and add value to his solitary life.Budha is replete with instinctive intelligence and due to his intense faith in his dead ancestors who are watching him integrates himself in his new home which he erects with the help of  local tribal.

Budha is old and retired and suffers from dim vision likely due to cataract but he is lucky because of the closeness with the gods.budha gets fair amount of vision due to a local tribal who instills some herbal medication whereby he is able to see much clearly.budha plants rice in his ancestral land and it keeps him busy .the dog is his constant companion. One day his son land in his house beckoning him to come back to Mumbai.budha is on verge of going back but suddenly decides the other way. And comes back to his hut.budha learns to light fire from local tribal by using flint stone. At leisure Budha sits perched on a tree observing the plains called Konkan.

Actually at this point it is necessary to understand that Budha is a form of the author and writer.GoNida tells us of the immense information about the nature that Budha has learnt and which he puts to good use for survival.But Budha is connected to the other world as well ,for he sees a plane which traverses the zenith every day at the same time of the day and gets emotionally attached to it. Having worked in Mumbai he is aware of technology AND HE DOES RELATE TO IT. But as distantly as the plane flying thousands of feet above.Budha watches the two Maratha forts in the vicinity Manornajn and shrivardhan with pride but there is no mention of his knowledge of its history.Budha plants creepers near his hut and develops special relation with trees around him. He is in a unique envious position as he can spent hours watching neighbors who take their cattle to graze daily and who locate the bees hives to get their share of virgin honey.Budha never allows his protégé animals to go hungry the dog who has become his man Friday and the goats and the squirrels and their kids.Budha provides for them compulsively oblivious of their status .Budha is a liberated soul who connects with everything good and natural.

Budha enjoys special relationship with clouds in their splendid form and when they brings monsoon which beats down relentlessly with downpour to turn everything green and glorious.Budha then comes into his elements and adjusts reflex to the fury with native sportsmanship. He knows too well  natures benevolence which to an outsider is mercislessness.Budha is ecologically informed he is intelligent and wishes to surrender to the glory of the gods of nature. He has patience and waits for that with perseverance. Days pass after nights seasons come and go.Budha has no idea of the calendar days he only understands the signals of nature and is content with it. But Budha is a man of intense faith and he has learnt some basic hymns of the great saints of Maharashtra the likes of Tukaram and recites them daily in the morning a rich heritage which he has memorized during his days in Mumbai from some of the groups who are essentially religious and Budha is aware of this ritual with immense belief.Budha combines best of a native in his elements.Budha lives in rhythm with his surroundings he does not have neighbors  except for the Bomblya family whose wife has a squint and with eight children but they are far away and come to help when in need for a smoke or milk for tea.

Budha is strong and during summer he wards off the forest fire that is about to devour him and his humble hut.Budha gets the energy of a giant and beats the fire to defeat. Budha occasionally remembers his son and daughter in law but brushes the idea of returning to Mumbai.He is here to meet his mentor and there is no compromise.

But Budha is distinctly waylaid eventually by fate and gradually comes to his finality of life. It is a mirage that sets the trap for Budha .One fine day as he is perched on the top of the mountain, he witnesses a troupe of soldiers who pitch their camps 1000 feet below into the valley.Budha welcomes them with the Hindu magnamity.He secretly plays host to them .They are there for around 10 days performing their military exercise, may be the national cadet core (NCC).Budha wants to witness it all. He literally talks to them for a distance of 1000 feet as if they cared. But he is happy for them and their effort s. Then suddenly they disappear packing their belongings and retreating in their jeeps.Budha is sad as they leave without bidding farewell. On the same day the Plane refuses to ply in the air.Budha is angry he returns and due to some reason blames on to his companion dog.Budha now drives him away for he is unhappy with himself.The dog that day refuses to eat and goes out to sleep. Then at night Budha is awakened with strange sounds and he finds the dog devoured by the tiger.Budha is sad and blames himself for the mishap. He buries the remnants of the dog and goes food less in depression.

Budha  is sad and lonely without the dog.Then one day he discovers an old and injured Buffalo abandoned by the owner come for his protection.Budha fights tooth and nail with the injury on the buffalo. She responds but only partially.Budha in an attempt to rescue the being of the malady falls and gets hurt when the buffalo steps on his feet injuring him greviously.But Budha has forgiveness in his soul. He continues to nurse the old Bufallo.That night Budha develops high fever and doesn’t get a wink of sleep.

Budha is now fighting for his life and the life of the Bufallo.But that night Budha gets delirious and he is now coming clear and affront. As the night proceeds Budha drifts from tree to tree ,he touches all the creatures  the goats and squirrels and the sky and the valleys ,the mortal remains of the buried dog .He feels a strange  inner voice that beckons him to all his experiences one by one on the mountain slope and gently but surely Budha  passes  into oblivion.

Next day dawns Budha is sleeping peacefully .But there are ants all over his body .But he cares not. For Budha is back into his elements and with his ancestors. He has won .Budha has acquired the ultimate the oneness with the God Of the Woods who descends onto him and delivers him to eternal peace.

Budha the intelligent,  is now  inseparable  with the soil for which he has waited patiently .

Performing Folk Artist of Maharashtra

Performing Folk Artist  of Maharashtra

Growing up in the Girangaon(Mill worker Area) of central Mumbai was a venerable experience .Life was simple but ethically  and ethnically rich.One land mark habitat nearby  was Mahadevachi wadi at the foot of Golanji Hill where old rooftop houses were located in an area roughly of 2 acres of land which had been leased out by Wakf Board just behind Haffkine Institute .We reviled this colony as against our own built of concrete as this was  occupied  by simpletons from Konkan who worked as mill hands in cotton fabric  factories in Central Mumbai. We would venture into this colony during catching cook games and wonder how these people stayed in these houses and considered these places as wretched homes but at times  secretly envied them due to their rural background which we missed.

Mahadevachi wadi threw up exotic experiences to us city dwellers  some  of them were  red  tiled roofs,verandahs,humble wodden structures with wodden plancks for seatings mimicking rural architecture ,people in khaki half pants with bare chests ,women wearing 9 yards sari worn as kashtas ,mini poultries which they maintained to get their rations of eggs and chiken.Another common feature was the small auspicious Tulsi shrub  potted in tin containers or planted in front of their houses. But one distinct feature were evening Bhajans with chorus , cymbals and dholaks. They sang sitting around the Dholak in small chimney lamps with   tunes and rhythm which were subtle and high pitch. They sang mostly on Thursdays or during festivities or poojas as well. There were no televisions and evening  used to be more scary due to the darkness of which we were afraid as children .And as we clung to our mothers the sweet melodies of the Bhajans came haunting from the settlements adding some  mystery to our city lives.

During festivities in Mahadevachi Wadi there were loudspeakers blurting Marathi songs which were Povadas of the Maratha Military victories sung by balladeers or Fisher folk songs called Koli Geets or   Bhajans of the diety Vitthal..One such song that struck me was a Fisher men song ‘Dada Awar Ye’ a melodious  and piercing song   sung  in high tempo which caught my fancy and made me happy in my soul .I always wondered who this  very talented Sahir was ? I would sing this tune under breath when in great mood or when sad as It was heart rending .This man had  golden  voice that represented the best in  Marathi Folk music although he was not an acknowledged one like more elite sahirs . He sang with verve and appeal. Later his  Martial ballads would stir us our  valorous sentiments called Veer Ras in Hindu classics. His Bhajans took us into raptures of faith and belief in the gods and their incarnation and his rural repertoire send us into the agrarian or marine raptures experiencing the rich traditions of artisans of hinterlands. He was a perfect product of toilers in city and  moffusil  and  displayed rich heritage with his husky yet  voluminous voice. Very Lately I discovered ,he was Vitthal Umap was born on 19 July 1931 Umap  started singing at the age of 8 .His first  public performance was in 1960 when he was 29 years old .He performed in a popular ballet of Vasant Bapat in which he sang a very popular Abhang ‘Variyane Kundal hale,Dole mohit Radha Chale’.I would  hear  this number time and again  on Radio. Vasant Bapat was our  professor in Marathi in Ruia College and in 1969 and 1970 would conduct early morning drill at Ruia Campus that  electrified  the youth with his patriotic songs .One such song which still occupies pace of pride in my mind was ‘Tuzya kama madhun,tuzya ghama madhun  udya pikal soniya che Raan, Chal uchal hatiyar gadya houn hushar ,tula navya jagachi aan’

I might have missed his entire concert of Vitthal Umap during those days in our own colony festivities of Ganapati as I  had embarked on studies in university and had become a keen hostelite while  I missed the rich culture curry  of rural Maharashtra  on a platter  .There were many sahirs like the Pundalik Farande, Shahir Sable and Dada Kondke or some historical story tellers of yester years like Baba Sahb Purandare But Vitthal Umap was distinctive concoction.His talents were diverse and striking and would catch the fancy of non Marathi audiences as well like Dada Kondke who had become very popular among non marathis speaking populace due to his comedies on the screen.

On one of my treks to ‘Vyagreshwar-The diety of the Tiger’ I encountered the same tune and was moved to tears.This time it was extolling the great lord shanker ,the mahadeva or God of Gods.The lyrics,I bet were from some local Shiva Fan.It went: ‘He Bholya Shankara…..Awad tula Bela chi re, Awad tula Bela chi re……bela chya Panachi……..” sung high pitch at 12 midnight A mystic experience in a far away lonely  ancient place of worship.I had experienced nemesis there and then and kept awake with the admirers to claim benefaction. Again two years back ,I had the opportunity to witness a full 3 hours folk  musical by Vitthal Umap  and his troupe. The dance and music drama was called ‘Jambhul  Akhyan’ or the Story of  Era that the Pandavs of Mahabharata spend in forest, Umap playing different  parts  of the Protagonist and of Draupadi whence he would dance with  46 yards sari to portray the episode in which Duryodhan orders to disrobe Draupadi as  Pandavas loose everything  the game of Dice including their wife Draupadi..His renditions and his dances were a treat for the eyes and we were fortunate and indebted to Rangai who hosted the show.Vitthal Umap  was a recipient of  International Folk art shows  award .In 2010 during one of the program  in Nagpur to launch a dedicated channel  to Shri Babashaeb Ambedkar Umap collapsed on stage and met his creator head-on  in a  tradition of Maratha Warriors. Umap will be remembered as a classical folk artist who symbolized all that was good and original in Folk music of Maharashtra.

14  January 1761

It is mere coincidence that a few days after I read the Novel Panipat and posting my blog on it , the author Shri Vishwas Patil himself  wrote an article in Marathi daily Sakal on eve of the  publication of 30^th edition of the Novel by Rajhans Prakashan to earmark  the 250^th anniversary of the War at Panipat on forthcoming 14^th Jan 2011

I was more than delighted to read it. The article is titled ‘The wet wounds of Panipat” but in reality he narrates the vibrant process of creating  an exceptional entity ‘ Panipat’

He first refers to the then Defense minister of India,Shri  Yashwantrao Chavan and tells us of an anecdote where, while driving from Punjab to Delhi, as his cavalcade approached  Panipat, he suddenly makes his convoy halt and goes to the Kala Aam or the Black  Mango tree and sees grave stones of unknown Maratha Warriors .Shri Chavan sat on that ground and picking up the soil wept   like a child . Later when he came back into his own he addressed the gathering telling them the relevance of the place and the martyrdom of the Marathas during the third war at Panipat ,a place quite near the Kurukshetra where the great battle of Mahabhatata between Kauravs and Pandavs was fought .The incident describes the sensitivity of earlier politicians who were more of leaders than opportunists.Shri Y.B chavan was a erudite scholar and not just a Maratha strongman. But there could be another version for the sentimental reaction .It could well be the fact that as a strong contender for the PMs post, he could never be chosen in spite of being an eminent Maratha to replace sophisticates in Indian politics who ruled the roost for their kinship with fellow British who chose them as heirs to rule the country even in their absence as they spoke their language and with whom they could relate better due to their western education. However also , it is very likely that Y.B.Chavans own ancestors were in the thick of the Panipat war some of them attaining martyrdom.

From what the author narrates it becomes more clear that the historical fiction was a result of very systematic  and intense hard work done at a young age of 25.The task that lasted for a full three years to see the light of the day in 1987  as a masterpiece  compendium and reference  on Panipat merging  into a creative magnum  opus that combined  time management skills with writing skills  by the author shuttling between his work in government office and his recluse. An Indomitable spirit matching the valor of the martyrs who fell fighting for their country on the sacred soil on banks of Yamuna.

He tells us about the pangs of the birth of the novel and the early attempt which is aborted in the initial stages by him due to the creation not getting the form that he has visualized to become a winner. Some of the most dramatic sequences being put together in one night and at times in a trains compartment while travelling. His sojourns into the battlefields areas to relive the history and to get into the roles to feel and experience the emotions felt by the great Bhaurao are exemplary. He ultimately recreates and resurrects Sadashiv Rao Bhausaheb from the fallen to a gallant neutralizer of Afghan designs in India at the cost of his life.

Writing on an historical reality with colossal cosmic ambit, churning out  volumes in the face of complicated circumstances requires diverse abilities and responsibility  .It requires to be extremely emotive about the characters while consciously refraining from  distorting truth. It requires maintaining the timeline and chronology to corroborate authenticity of the established scholastic opinion. It requires a thorough study of the geography of the region and the cartographic details to be as congruent to the field realities impacting different scenarios. Finally it requires creativity to keep the reader engrossed and involved in the story not of victory but of failure and devastation. The reader has to get a vantage view of the champion and the challenger albeit secretly and surely while he emerges as a   sympathizer of Militant Marathas .It requires the maturity and focus of a historian and dictum of story teller rolled into a seamless metaphor .Vishwas Patil could achieve this due to his dogged desire to actually know what happened in reality during those days of confrontation and final Armageddon on the fateful day.

It is difficult to perceive the battles fought in medieval era   and the finer nuances as the author is no soldier or a specialist on cavalry or elephants or artillery .He is no specialist on canons or ammunition .He is no specialist on physical combat although he uses the apt vernacular terms for the war heads and the hardware he does falls short at times on the logistics and technicalities the text becoming descriptive and prosaic. At times he is oblivious of individual shortcomings of soldiers barring the hunger and non availability of salaries. He has no details of the provisions and the mechanism of distributions. Neither is he informed of the Afghan side about the man- animal interactions pertaining to camels and elephants. Although he does give details of the bulls and their failures due to lack of fodder. As a typical middleclass writer he is more aware about the aspirations of the clergy and the womenfolk on the Maratha sides. However ,Patil succeeds in  developing the compulsions of Bhaurao vividly .He also details the deceitful diplomacy of the Northern provincial strongmen and their mutual one-upmanship to gain from the awkward circumstances due to entrapment of Bhaus forces in the fortressed town of Panipat.

As he produces four files of manuscript he hazards rejection and refusal due to being naïve in the field of authorship and literature. It is merely by serendipity that he finds common interest in Delhi with a Marathi publisher that his work is picked up with speculation and risk with a bank loan .However after publication of the feat he earns laurel from all sides with the likes of Shanta shelke ,Shivaji Sawant of Mritunjay fame and V.V Shirwadkar who later secretly confessed  his own design to write something on Panipat a wish remaining unfulfilled .He also finds a great supporter in P.V .Narshima Rao a linguist scholar from Pune before he became the PM, who referred it to Gyanpeeth for a Hindi translation which broadened the readership in the North.One interesting prophesy which Patil  tells us is that of the great Marathi litterateur V.S. Khandekar who had declared his gut feeling that ‘very soon some  dynamic upcoming writer would rise on the horizon to write a cosmic epithet on the  epic of Panipat’ .

Panipat is in reality a tribute just like Mritunjay is a tribute to Karna.It is a tribute to Sadashiv Bhau,to Dattaji Shinde,Jankoji Shinde,to Vishwas Rao, to Pant Bundele, to Shamsher Bahadur and finally to Ibrahim Gardi.It is putting on record the contribution of these gems and 35000 men who fell and merged with the soil to deter the onslaught of Afghans and their unsecular designs. It documents the great Maratha legacy and supremacy with acts of valor and self annihilation for territorial rights and justice. Finally it also vividly brings out a familial and cultural conflicts to the fore establishing them as dominant factors in failure of wars and battles undertaken as military expeditions and engagements. There are many shortcomings which the author must have eventually realized which he must have improved in his editions as a realistic story teller however this critic has no knowledge of this aspect.

Finally the merit is evident with very respectful treatment of the adversary Ahmed Durrani by the author as he has gone on records in his memoirs to commend the valor of gallant Marathas quoting that ‘ if Legends from Kandahar (Afghanastan and Kabul)  ,Iskandar and Rustom had witnessed the bravery of the Marathas ,they would have been shocked to see the valiant  Soldiers from Deccan(Margattha) giving a   fight to finish even in face of famine and disease’

Abdalis forces suffered heavily after winning the war due to lack of monetary support forthcoming from those who benefitted from it, especially Najib .They rode back on long journey with nightmare of the battle due to weariness .Abdali could never gauge the net credit of the entire mission and was happy that he went back alive from Hindustan.If Holkars had not deserted or had he stuck to the plan of Ibrahim Gardi probably the war would have been won by the Marathas and the British would have never been able to stabilize their Union Jack in India .India would have been as independent and prosperous as Europe. However , dissensions, caste politics, regionalism  and religion fragment the Marathi populace keeping the entire state anaesthetized and stoic serving as a buffer between North and South with minimal representation in Delhi Government or Bureaucracy since  the British  willed so. One reason was the great guerilla warrior Shivaji and the other was the absurd logic of PANIPAT

Guest from Morocco

Guest From Morroco

For two months she had stayed at Nasik as a valued guest of my sister,we admired her and secretly wished that she spend time with us too. And god answered the desire. On her way to Morroco she was to spend two days with us .Lucky we were.

I picked her up at the Pizza Hut. She was fair and petite with beautiful hair and teeth. She travelled light. I tried to make her comfortable chatting with her and knowing her background. She was wrestling with her destiny. A vagabond son, failing health and Downturn in US.

She was a real estate dealer in NY with the Japanese and Chinese as her clients. She was knowledgably a very enlightened person. When we chatted with her into the night we realized that she had grown wise over time. She was in this country for the mystique and divine grace of the almighty. She had spent a major part in a secluded Ashram in Bihar doing service and meditating all the while.

In Nasik she taught yoga and meditation to my sister. Yes, she was methodical and dedicated and retained what she was taught at the Ashram. When she showed me the brochures, I was impressed. Surely will visit that place if time permits, I told her.

In the morning when I did pooja, she stood beside me and observed me very intensely .She wanted to know the meaning of the rituals and the Mantras. I told her about the Rudra and the divinity of Shiva the lord of lords.

Next day I saw that she had inflammation in one eye. I enquired. Do you have any eye drops at home She asked. I looked for some, but it had expired. Then it suddenly struck me .I had carried some herbal eye drops from Amarkantak .It was basically a flower extract .I offered her clarifying that I have never used it and it would amount to making her a guneapig. She had more faith in India and its heritage as compared to me. Of course you can use it on me. I instilled the drops into the inflamed eye. Next day she was fine.

I had bought a book from crossword on Shiva mythology .I gave it to her as a gift. She was moved at my generosity. Next day when she left we embraced her and bid her a very gracious journey of life.

Now I learn from face book she teaches Yoga in Morocco!! Surely I will be her guest if god wills! Insha’Allah!!

wordscape: Panipat

wordscape: Panipat: "PanipatGranthali has ‘firte granthalya’ ie moving bookshop on wheels and on one weekday while driving to the office, I advised my driv..."

Panipat

Panipat

Granthali  has ‘firte granthalya’ ie moving bookshop on wheels and on one weekday while driving to the office, I advised my driver to stop suddenly.I hopped out of the car ,entered the van and quickly purchased around 7 books paying  in cash.

One was ‘Aryanak’ translated from Bengali,other was ‘Chakwa chandana-Ek Vanopanishad’ by Maruti Chitampalli  and yet the third was ‘Panipat’ by vishwas Patil.The First two were completed  in gusto being a nature lover.The third  a 553 pages treatise  had to wait for an year as I am not being an avid student of history.As history has challenged my memory with places ,names and dates and I have been humbled by these memorabilia time and again.

Panipat  is a Kaadambari or a Novel based on the great Maratha War fought in 1761 at Panipat a town and a Mughal stronghold 80 kms North of Delhi .This was not the only war fought here but earlier two had been fought at the same place.The first in 1526 between Babar and Sultan Ibrahim Lodi who was killed in the Battle leading to downfall of Delhi sultans and establishment of Mughals in India.The Second was between Akbarson of Babar and Hemu in 1756 .The third was between between Marathas led by Sadashiv Bhaurao and Forces of Afgan Ahmedshah Durrani .The book is acknowledged as one of the largest selling Marathi novel of half century between 1947 to 1997.Published on 20^th October 1988,it was translated in Hindi by Bharatiya Gyanpeeth foundation.The novel also  won best Indian literature award in Kolkata ,Nathmadhav Puraskar in Goa and priyadarshini Award in Mumbai.The foreword dated on 23-09-90 is by the doyen of Marathi literature ,the great poet Vi Va Shirwadkar or Kusumagraj,who has called it a magnum opus with a very large ambit .It is believed that Vishwas Patil  refered around 110 references out of which 46 are from English .Around 36 articles from Marathi tabloids and periodicals.61 Books and archives with 2 Hindi History books.It stands illustrated by 8 maps drawn by noted historian Prof T.S.Sejwalkar

The Novel is actually a clever synthesis of Book of History and a highly readable nonfiction creation. It first traces the war between Najib and Scindias and later the grand march of 70,000 maratha infantry and horsemen northwards to check Najib.The Marathas  after the victory at Kunjpura ,gain entry into the Panipat town north of Delhi and become resident caretakers. They are now sourrounded by 1,20,000 combined Afgan and Muslim shia soldiers who cutoff all their rations inflicting malnutrition and frustration.They cut off the communication between the forces of Bhaurao and Nanasaheb Peshwa in Pune .At last brave heart Bhaurao with the help of Ibrahim Gardi who has a  strong firepower acquired by the Guns gained from the Portuguese launches an offensive with famished soldiers with scindias and Holkars forced to desert the forces due to loss of Vishwasrao and Shamsherbahadur. Bhaurao who is a capable warrior ultimately gets onto the  battlefields due to loss of younger kin to become martyred  on the battlefield.

This conflict at Panipat is not a battle .It was a war fought between Maratha Generals of diverse regions and the Northern Muslim forces collected together due to contemporary regional politics with Delhi as a centre.The war gave a setback to the Maratha supremacy and which was avenged eventually by Madhavrao Peshwa.Nanasaheb later moves northwards due to lack of information and when informed of the loss laments the death of his cousin and succumbs to slow death by disease and depression.It is said that the Marathas lost nearly 35,000 people on the battlefield amounting to 10 people from each town or village.The book narrates the valiant martyrdom of Jankoji shinde and many Marathas compatriots in and around Delhi including of Ibrahim Gardi who remains faithful to the Marathas.The book at the end has a glossary of 26 topics where the author summarizes the process of collecting information and his trips to Panipat.It is here that he hears of a Ballad sung by local jogis with lyrics of the story of Bhau in form of a conversation between his mother who fears the Afgan and Bhau who assures that he will return to Pune with victory.The author  also traces a place called Bhaupur and a small fortress called ‘Bhau ka Killa’ .History portrays Bhau as a egoistic and megalomaniac  leader ,but the author refutes these charges and salutes the administrative and war tactics of Bhau.It is the ultimate impatience of the Holkars and scindias that led to the break in the formation as decided before the aggression the chief deciding to do away with guerilla strategy with a regular strategy as the battle field happens to be plains of Yamuna river and not hills and valleys.

The  dance of desolation and death and the massive bloodshed gives the reader goose skin and fills him with remorse.The entire novel explains the circumstances of the battle including the fall of a huge meteor causing the land to vibrate. It details the devastation of the morale of the forces and the bold decision to do or die in face of being vanquished by famine and destruction.Marathi readers are forced to sit on the edge of their seats making them aware of the Maratha ambitions and the backstabbing and double crossing ,deceit by their own brethren and advocates in the court of northern kings. It also describes the capacity of durrani and his men and their perseverance to cross the Yamuna river to gain vantage ground to rally forces around the city of Panipat.

In the end the reader comes to a conclusion that defeat comes to those who choose to be negligent of realities and who play the card of emotions and hatred and who take things for granted and who remain closeted in vengeance and ignorance. Bhaurao undertakes the military feat under duress and compulsion.Earlier defeats have blinded them with anger and earlier victories brought about by Bajirao and Holkars have heightened their own expectation and military desires.Their calculations and presumptions prove erroneous and force defeat due to blind faith and assumptions.

The novel is a ‘Must Read’ for Maratha Politicians who seek power in Delhi.The entire exercise is a learning process and has plenty of carry home messages. Ample lessons are to be learnt by the contemporary stalwarts in Maharashtra polity. The role of the Brahmins and the limited role of religion in assuming power in north breaking a lobby of the combine north-south supremacy have to be systematically developed with a common agenda. And the agenda can only be Language and Unity.

Panipat has bared the deficiencies in Maratha wisdom and limitation of regional politics in federal India.It is ultimately the win of the virtuous over less virtuous and never a win of good over bad or true over false or strong over weak.It is a win of less over lesser. It is a win of lesser wise over more lesser wise.It is never like the war of Kurukshetra as future wars will be fought in kaliyug where more sinners will loose at the hands of less sinners. Panipat thus forewarns and throws dreams out of the window lock stock and barrel.

Trek To Mizoram

I am back from that heaven called Mizoram .Back from the merciless trek that wrecked me for 5 days through thick forest and blue sky and inconsolable terrain with unaccounted hills, mountains, ravines, valleys, rivers and endless greenery of wild Banana and Bamboo forests. The mood got set at Aizawl Airport which swings it upwards with fascinating landscape as backdrop. No rush no noise just a few people and staff. A welcome signboard makes us feel important. Later someone tells me that when security showed interest in checking baggage for contraband it was cautioned not to do so as it would undermine dignity of YHAI and the trekkers who are primarily  environmentalists .And the Airport security responded.! Great welcome!   

Aizawl is a real large city perched on mountain that spreads for miles.We drive down in a sumo.Its great.pretty people and children .Small shops with cute merchandise.No opulence.Just what is required for a simple and pure life.occasional concrete high rise and  mall here and there .Meandering roads with quiet people.Busy in their routine.

           

YHAI hostel at Luangmuawl is a great place we park in Dormitories.Clean bedsheeets and blancket.Simple food.No panic no haste.Comfort is the theme of the Mizo natives.We were each given Booklet and a Pamphlet titled ‘Mizoram’ ,we glance through the pages and find it fascinating.Vikram and Chandra are elected leaders.We are addressed by an official and oriented by another official.Gautam & Amandeep and Nagraj are amused by least formalities.No checking of I card,Medical certificates.We carry home a message,a mizo message in Management : Keep it simple , Have faith in people as much in god.Dont complicate things,Do as people wish to do.

First day is acclimatization .It is actually a social adjustment to the mizo city.We go for the museum walking and warming ourselves. Knowing more about each others .We click as many photos.No issue. They have faith in god as much as others and more  so the guests.We walk to David s Kitchen. Mizo vegetable boiled dish with cabbage and bamboo shoots is a treat.The chicken is well cooked and real fleshy.The ambience is decent and tidy.No overdone interiors. Just simple functional decor. Service is good so is the food.

I meet a man Sridhar his persona impresses me .Fair man clean shaven pate ,hazy eyes with a Bhikbali in ear.It has pachu a special gem he tells me.He looks like a direct descendant of Shrimant Peshwas Kings and generals the erstwhile rulers of India after the Mughals.Shridhar is into trekking and mountaineering in a professional way. He runs a setup in Pune called Trek D.They are into organized valley crossing which they do with German and Swiss equipment and ropes. I tell him what I witnessed at Kokan Kada at Harishchandra Gad(Fort) .He invites me to one such event. Then we discover that we had met nearly 30-35 years ago,when We would ride on mobikes all the way from Mumbai to Pune to meet friends at  rendezvous at Hotel Vaishali & Rupali sipping coffee and smoking .Evening we were back at Symbiosis hillock where groups perched with their stuff generally rum or whiskey which was literally ‘on the rocks’ Lalya Alias Shridhar Joshi

Let me tell you here that I often wonder of lost friends, but ‘where there is a will there is a way ‘and if you desire intensely that they meet you it does happen in  reality. Here I was talking to Lalya his pet name after 35 years. He was in another trek group, but I maneuvered him in our group by convincing the base camp boss.

There was amandeep who looked like a bollywood comic spy with all his equipment,gadgets,instruments and gears. We met him at Kolkata Airport and introduced us, self and vikram.He even has texts on Northeast India and Mizoram to discover the country like a suspense thriller.A great guy with lots of dead weight .He made the entire trek a success for himself but could not do Caving and that was right for it would be really hazardous.Now aman as we called him has purchased a static bike and has planned to go on a fitness spree so that he can do lots of treks.Good idea!

                                                                                           YHAI Hostel Mess

 In evening at 7 pm we are addressed by the Base camp in charge and the trek organizer who updates us on the camp sites,camp routiene the trekking tips ,toilets,the leaches,crossing the river,and crossing the bridge and more importantly the discipline and hazards of terrain and especially the concept of Caving and a short history.The Group leaders are selected as I told you earlier .Mr Chandra from Karnataka is chosen as his group is the largest.Later when we part at Kolkata Airport whence he headed for Bengaluru he told us , that he is basically a Morse code specialist from department of telecommunication deputed to Police force.He even showed us his beautiful wifeys snap.Chandra is a strong dark and tall and he did help me many times on slippery tracts as my own new costly  Reebok shoes failed me; may be due to the fact that I did not start using them right away or that they were Jogging shoes rather than trekking, aggressively sold to me by the Powai shop sales persons.Another leader was Vikram my nephew who has had one Everest base camp experience.I did not like the fact that he volunteered for the leaders post without taking me into confidence or may be that he would be paying less attention to me and my needs.Both proved to be excellent leaders ultimately ,unobtrusive and non aggressive nevertheless caring and sharing ones.Having done that we dispersed for dinner at the Mess and early sleep as we were on to the D day next morning.

On day one we keep all things unnecessary at base camp under safe custody.I and Vicky share the suitcase which has a lock.It is damn difficult to decide what to take and what not.But we don’t carry blankets and bed sheets.At last the final packing is done with lots of information,discussion,choice,needs and discretion.After breakfast we gather just outside the base camp in  the compound and are flagged off by the high ranking official of Youth Hostel.His wife tells us ‘Jungle mein Mangal hai’ it means that the jungle is auspicious and pure and we walk forth to discover the same .We take a ride in Bus and  are taken to a Scout Training Institute which has lots of facilities including a obstacle path consisting of mounting wall,jumping,swinging on rope and rappelling.It was inspiring and productive.Most of our guides are serious Scouts and in a place like Mizoram there is ample scope to put your scouting knowledge in use.I am now nostalgic as I tell others proudly of my scouting days and my brother who was a Presidents Scout.I take snaps of self with a scouts salute and the institute as a backdrop.Here Prachi introduces herself to me .she is a journo and a media person now considering photography as a career option.I feel delighted as I tell her about my passion to write and blog.she is maha impressed.We then get back into the busses and are let off on a spot where the city ends.We eat the lunch for it is nearing 12 .And then we start of on the tar road.It gradually becomes steep and unrelenting.i pickup pace with another cohiker  Nagraj Shanbhog a professor in Engineering at Sayaji University in Baroda.One of the finest gentleman I came across and who gave me company throughout the trek as I basked in his compantionship.I was tireless went on surpassing many and reaching a spot where we cut into the jungle.We walk through slippery jungle path thickly wooded stopping on way due to dyspnoea and very heavy sweating as the climate is humid due to tropical forest but  ultimately at around 4 pm reach the camp at Vaipuanpho. Self and Prof Nagraj from Baroda Tents at camp

On reaching the camp we were served welcome welcome drink with Rasna and later tea.Occupying our tent and refurbishing my self  ,I came out to survey the site including the small watering tank which had been constructed and the toilets which were adequate and clean.I got ready for a cool bath and accomplished it by pouring cold water over myself .I got immensely refreshed and changed into fresh clothes a Reebok Jersey.Now we waited for hot soup and dinner which was simple but in plenty.Here we met one senior member and the Koli family from Thane who were with their nephew as we were in the same tent and Mr Bhagat who is from Delhi from Dept of Agriculture and has come with his family but he told me that he had not done any preparatory treks and hence was at a disadvantage.”You will be fine” I assure him.The jungle is very thick here but the site is cleared up..It gets dark early in these Eastern regions and at 8 pm it is pitch dark.As there was no camp fire we rest in our tents and while  chatting with co trekkers I fall asleep.

 

. Gokhale Family

Next day ,we got up at around 6 am in early morning ablutions were easy. we had tea with Jam and Butter sandwich.and dressed up we fell in rows ready to go .Thus day two started in right earnest.The way was uphill and as we maneuvered steep climb and turn we could see our campsite and tents from a height.Now the climb got more and more tough ,but as they say when the going gets tough the tough get going ,so I met the challenge fair and square remaining in forefront amongst first 10 out of 60.Abhijeet and Shridhar were in their own mood clicking for their nature study consisting of winged insects.We might have climbed around 1000 feet and later gradual descent .The road was slippery and I managed  somehow with great pressure on my legs and toes, just not to skid and slide.As we went down on the steep road suddenly appeared a river which flowed serenely.Here we rested for a while I conducted a session of yoga for young lad prashant and later his brother Salil who was reluctant disciple . The water was crystal clear and we quenched our thirst to the hilt..Nagraj lost his spectacles here as he could not remember where he kept his pair.We crossed without our shoes on and then went through very thick jungle again we were climbing for 2 hours and then finally came onto a road were we parked ourselves. The Mizo guides then showed us their skills at creating a spear like missile out of tall grass blade and to pluck out another variety of grass blade and to consume its stalk of  a centimeter or so. We had our lunch perched on the road. And later after some sweets Khajoor and chikki started off with Prof Nagraj keeping pace with me

We were damned tired but the hike went on and on we were walking on hill tops with scenic landscapes and white fluffy clouds and green dense forest later we came to a small village where we rested for a while and then walked through the village where I tipped a tenner to some village kids who gave us guavas which we consumed as rich timely reward  of the forest .Manjunath gave us Papanas a citrus fruit portions which partly replenished our electrolyte loss .At last after walking for a km or two we ultimately landed at the site at Ailawng .A very tiring day I  thought.But the real stuff was to come on the same day.And as we reached there was a clear clarion call for getting ready for Caving.We were told to wear our dirtiest trousers and I took my Reebok resin Blazer.Vikram advised me not to carry Camera and I obeyed. I took my cap and my torch. I walked to the cave in  this attire which turned to be right by default ,not aware of what lied ahead of me.Before the actual entrance  ,one of the guide asked me “ How are you ?” as he stood checking one by one . I took it as a formality, replied Ok later I  learnt that it was a screen for safe entry and emergence from caving. Tribal instincts, I thought later. No tough talk no ability or attitude testing. At the entrance another guide briefed us about the cave. Do and Don’ts  .Their pronunciations were far from clear. But I remember he said that If you fall you are gone. Now that is never taken seriously by any trekker who knows that any fall means injury or fatality. Some of the salient points he made were: Once you take entry and  gradually  progress, automatically, you cannot turn back.I never quite understood the meaning of this concept but later realized that most spots were only footholds which only  one person could occupy at a time. The cave is bat infested. Help those in front and back. Strong and weak alternate.

CAVING – A Unique Experience

We were a group of 60 and five  dropped out as  probably they opted out or were declared unfit . It was a wise decision . I was skeptic about my performance but being in high spirits and due to acceptable performance till date , I did take the challenge. The initial part of cave entry took lots of time and gave me ample space  to reconsider the challenge , which I think now retrospectively was difficult not to indulge .Moreover standing at the entrance for 25 minutes which passed off quietly and  there was no  ulterior feedback from those who entered . The cave however got progressively darker and whimsical. The terrain inside was absolutely beyond speculation. It was not like the caves in Meghalaya near cherpunji.i remember that I had not dared entry and emergence in that stalactite cave which dripped from top as I was weary and there was no guide or assistance. But it was surely a stooge as compared to this experience.

 This cave actually turned out to be something like two rock patches interface of hillocks underground coated with slippery mud with absolute unpredictability putting up all types of challenges as a model trekkers obstacle race in darkness with abysmal crevices below beyond salvage because slipping down into it would have been like getting trapped between two phalanges of rock with no scope to wriggle out. Organic contaminated water from bats dropping filled up deep crevices below as we were midway trying to negotiate. At one point the lofty climb amounted to nearly 15 feet with no rock scaffolding to anchor the feet or the space between the two legs supports 7 feet apart necessitating the man behind to stabilize your back foot with two hands as you struggled miserably with your groping hands to gain foothold with your front foot. But you did this out of compulsion and at instance of your trekking impulses learnt on different escapades which you prayed would come to your psychomotor rescue. Again peer pressure made you go for it as you saw everyone negotiate ne by one. Also the cave was one way journey with no chance to return .Taken jocularly this fact became the real mind boggling issue that confrontation is the only solution to this supreme ordeal.

Just as you minimally succeeded in tantamounting one challenges another stared at you like a subterranean jaw willing to devour you  away with a promise of  an obscure death or near death agony or loss of face and near and dear ones far from your own civilized home. Huge sheet of looming rock threatened to slide down crushing you as you wished away such an unlikely possibility. Keep silence inside the cave the words of the guide reverberated in your ears as you shooed others pleading them silence so that no unforeseen event could happen in the dark dungeon of sure misery. Every negotiation was a thriller that sent our bodies in unimaginable frenzy of forced postures which probably were taken by our blessed bodies only in the mother’s womb in fetal stage. Here we were in same state of biology but his time it was ‘Mother Earth’. One of the starrer was; lying on a ledge and at a stark call ’next’ glide through a small clearance by pushing yourself with neck turned to one side expecting worse and suddenly coming onto another lofty rock relief where you were hauled up suddenly  immovably onto a smallest  foothold   while you saw entrants struggling and wriggling  between two rock wall drops that would allow half your size vertically while guides scolded and chided you to assume a technique  which came to you automatically out of your instinct of survival to press back and hands to keep you from slipping down into abyss and maneuvering alternately your hands and back to mobilize yourself onto the other side  with indomitable hardship.

There was respite in between but a ghastly one at the point where all were stuck due to sheer numbers and due to lower   guide to entrant ratio. I was mortally  scared ,no movement for 20 minutes ,no idea as to what was happening, if we put off all the torches to save the cells from going dead ,it was absolutely dark and a bit asphyxiating due to stress of impending doom and lack of information about any likely casualty. It was a rock patch with huge boulders in way where we waited incessantly. Some of the back entrants tried to come in front but I objected. “Keep the sequence” I pleaded less than I ordered. Just then one of the guides came moving forth fast and agile. I caught hold of him, well sir,I said , I am a senior and I have a right to know if something untoward  has happened  causing the immense delay ,I suggested. There was a curt reply ‘No’ as he went ahead without any regards .I tried to catch his meaning of the word with doubt and suspense.

Is this nightmare going to ever end we thought with most youngsters cracking jokes maybe to make the mood light .I disregarded such foolish humor at such a critical moment trying to control my temper. A cave of this effect was no place to give vent to your jocular repertoire I thought. A fat trekker from Bengal who carried an umbrella was in his elements. But the man who helped me most was the tall and fair Bengali who happened to be in front and another from Karnataka who helped me from behind. Then as we routinely managed ourselves wishing that the exit appeared suddenly. Alas it surely showed up its existence after a time interval of 3 hours that seemed like an epoch. And this was a shoulder breaker. The exit warranted a hauling yourself and your tired body out of a wee little opening in the ground open to starry  dark night seemingly to be greeted by ‘rescued’ co-trekkers. But there was a caveat literally; For you would have to haul yourself with confronting rock surfaces wide apart cutting down all the forces that would give you the strength of propulsion. I did make it with lots of support but with an earlier struggler and the current one ,emerged out of the adversity with a smile on my face to be lifted out by hands while others applauded in the dense darkness with silhouetted trekkers sitting on small rocks weary from the thing called ‘Caving’ .I had injured my left shoulder badly but the pain was shadowed by the pride  of success .

We shook hands with bliss and happiness of accomplishing the impossible together. Later as we walked towards the tents at one point, we  posed together for a picture of triumph. It was a long walk in darkness, but I walked ceaselessly and refused help as the guys from Karnataka garrulously talked their minds away in ununderstandable Kannada language. At last we reached the site. Water was in plenty but I refrained from taking bath but I chose to clean the grime off me and changed clothes. That day there was a campfire with all the rejoicing .But I preferred to keep to my tent, talking with Mr. Bhagat and Aman as I put my wet army trouser from drying with the Reebok blazer which protected me from getting wet inside the cave and which helped me to slide on rock surface.   

That night I talked incessantly due to the excitement like that of a schoolboy and as the noise outside the tents rose I managed to sleep out of exhaustion although before sleep time and again we had appreciated the super star studded night sky you would never ever witness if you never came out into forests far away from civilization. This place then I realized was more civil than any city for here you were in company of constellations and stars which populated skies and which were more dense that the people in city. And because the trees silently admired all what you did with their gracious presence and the air was so pure so that it breathed into you new life and the desire to do much more than you ever imagined. The benevolence of nature is beyond words for in such situations one realizes that one is more near the almighty than the hell hole termed as a city.

Next morning I woke up .toilet was a very hygienic pit dug up and screened in a nice way. I bunked the bath had tea and sandwich and gradually readied myself brushing the pride of yesterdays feat and cajoling self to get into the tempo of the Trek. Packing my lunch in the box we set out after the Battle cry “ Ambe Bhawani Maa”  as everyone responded with a chorus “Hee Haa Hoo” like those of the demons. Now the walk was incessant while we came onto the road twice near the villages which were neat and prosperous with tidy houses with few cars parked in front .Mizoram is a rich state I, thought or is it because we were on the outskirts of Aizawl the capital of the state.Prof Nagraj went on with his dream for development plans of collective farming and farmers co-operative to produce much more from the fertile soil by clearing the forest especially for horticulture, but I met this argument with the principle of conservation rather than mass production.  “people here are satisfied and not greedy ,let them live a peaceful life rather than a competitive one like the one near metropolitan cities” I told him.

The walk got progressively difficult through dense forest although on an occasion we parked our self at a spot that looked like a hill station where we had lunch and I tried to dry my clothes. One of the trekker ladies misplaced her goggles as the pair slid down and stuck in a bush. Her boy friend tried to salvage it by bending over .but we dissuaded him as he would fall into the valley. When we walked down the hill the path was steep and slippery and I did skid on two occasions one on the face .I was saved because of the bushes and grasses all along path. I generally never fall due to very sturdy reflexes but during this descent I went down due to a technical error which I am due to post in another Blog which will cover the tech aspect of the Mizoram adventure.

At one point due to in coordination amongst the guides and I do agree that they were too young and now a bit tired after the caving experience, we went onto a wrong path deep down into the thick jungle before someone realized that it was a mistake .We returned back huffing and puffing walking for 30 minutes as tempers flew high and the group leader Chandra raised his voice. But the seniors were calm .In a trek of this magnitude such miscalculations are expected. My silence on the matter was lauded and quickly the mood changed. We walked then without a word going on and on as my muscles were sore and my joints weary. Finally the ordeal which amounted to 16 kms came to an abrupt end. As we came down and crossed a beautiful river that ran quickly into the valley. This camp site was very smart like they show in the movies. We settled onto the Bamboo benches waiting for tea. It was getting dark and Prachi and Suman and their Bengalese friend requested me for a snap with them, I obliged .The site was cleaned up and the toilet make shift. That night there was great fanfare.Gautam sang very well .I appreciated him while lying inside my tent absolutely exhausted .There were other good singers too and every type singing prowess was being demonstrated. But I drifted off to sleep at Hawlhhah .When I woke in-between; I could hear continuous medium decibel groaning of creatures in the river. Maybe insects, reptiles and amphibians. But the air was fragrant and mystic and again I dozed off. For the uninitiated this would be spine chilling. But for hard core trekkers it was ecstasy.

Next day after routine ablutions, we started off from the opposite side and the road was too slippery through the jungle of dense bamboo and wild trees. We climbed and then went downhill .Nagraj kept pace with me and suddenly we came to a clearance of a river bed. Most men stripped themselves and on bare clothes entered the cold water .The river was knee deep but we enjoyed the current and refreshed .Getting back into clothes was tough but I was charged up and went on with gusto. A good looking trekker girl slipped and fell in the water but she was supported by the guides. Later this woman told us that she was working with a TV channel as an actor in a serial. I admired her. At one point we had lunch and then the journey went on till 4 pm. As we walked up the hill weary from the heat and humidity we abruptly greeted by a Mizo gentleman who was a cam leader. Yes we had arrived at Nghalchawn .This camp leader was a Olympic Archer representing India and I Climbed near the banner for a snap. The camp site was neat and trendy like a resort. The tents were large and imported. Just as I entered victorious, The same gentleman who had flagged us off was there with his camcorder recording us one by one .I gave a brief interview about caving and the trek on the whole. It was amazing I remarked as I went on record. I changed myself into a fresh trouser ready for a group photo as a big group left for onward tour .The Kolis too left from Assam .Mr  Bhagat left in the camp boss vehicle. We relaxed in our tents writing feed back with Gokhale and the kids.Nagraj was always there by me as my god sent friend and compatriot. That night we were served Mizo food and I liked it for the change. We slept like a log.

Next day the ablutions were easy as there was a good toilet and plenty of water. After breakfast we started off on the last day. We walked through forest and on a wide road.I clicked snaps of wild flowers and orchids and some birds which flew high, maybe kites. And the terrain became friendlier and we came to a picnic spot with a model village made of bamboo huts for all denominations of village folk. We had grub on a big arena some had it at the restaurant. Then we walked for 2-3 kms and then saw the buses standing for us at sihhmui.The trek was over .I thanked the guides and took their pics.I learnt that they were serious scouts and 2 of them were headed for Presidents scouts. I congratulated them wishing them best luck. We boarded the bus and every one sang and danced to the taped music.Atlast we arrived at the Base camp at the YHAI guest house. We were greeted with rejoicing and addressed by the organizers. Then we were ushered into a small auditorium and we were given the Certificates amongst applause. Vicky addressed the gathering thanking everyone. We then took our bags kept in custody and quickly went for bath one by one. Dinner brought us to the mess. A new group had arrived from Pune and I briefed them about the cave .But they were old and seasoned trekkers and would complete it too. I wished them luck as I went to the dormitory and slept like a log.

Next day we bade good bye to each other taking our numbers and contact. I embraced Nagraj who was   a researcher too. I Bhavin,Gautm Vikram,Prachi  and others got into the same vehicle that drove me to Aizwal airport. We took a snap . Later at Kolkata Airport Kavita gave me good company as she talked incessantly to hoarseness. I bid farewell to Chandra and Chauhan and Sanjay .As I sat at the Airport I reminisced about the great time I had with these fine people for a week. Flight from Kolkata to Mumbai was on time and we arrived at about 11 pm .I took a rickshaw home and declared the trek as completed and accomplished