Shaheed Bhagat Singh at Lahore Railway Police Station

The lost son of Lahore—–Shaheed Bhagat Singh By Shreya Ray

It is an uncanny coincidence that Nawab Muhammad Ahmad Khan Kasuri, the magistrate who signed the death warrant of Bhagat Singh, was killed, more than 40 years later, at the same spot as the 23-year-old freedom fighter. The roundabout in Shadman Colony, Lahore—where the execution chambers of the Lahore Central jail used to be—is where the magistrate was shot in 1974. Not that many Pakistani youngsters know these details about Singh’s death, or even that he was from Lahore; to them he’s the guy Ajay Devgn played in a Bollywood movie.

Resurrecting Singh—and reclaiming him—as a son of Lahore is Pakistan’s Ajoka theatre group, in the first-ever Pakistani production on the freedom fighter, Mera Rang De Basanti Chola. The play, also staged at the National School of Drama’s (NSD’s) Bharat Rang Mahotsav, is third in a series of Ajoka’s plays that question the Arabised Pakistani identity, and emphasize its roots with the Indian subcontinent. Drawing constant parallels with contemporary society, peppered with traditional folk song and dance it inlcudes a Tangewala ki ghodi, a type of Punjabi folk song on the verge of extinction.

Forgotten hero: Nirvaan Nadeem plays Bhagat Singh.
Born in 1978, after the overthrow of Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto’s government by the military regime of Zia-ul-Haq, Ajoka was formed by a group of writers, intellectuals and artists perturbed at the erosion of democratic values in their country. They wrote about religious extremism, repressive government machinery, and other things that made the Pakistani establishment sit up and squirm. Within a year, they had been banned from performing at public venues, and their members, personally attacked. Playwright-director Shahid Nadeem, who has written 40 plays and adaptations, including Mera Rang De… and is, along with his wife Madeeha Gauhar, one of Ajoka’s key founder members, lost his job with PTV twice. The first was in 1979, during Zia-ul-Haq’s regime, when he was forced into exile in London for eight years but kept writing for Ajoka; the second in 1999, during the reign of Nawaz Sharif.
Only after the death of Zia-ul-Haq in 1988 did the group gradually get access to venues like the Goethe-Institut, which gave them space to rehearse and perform.

But even during the years of the ban, Ajoka performed at factory premises, community halls, street corners, even private residences. There have been suicide bombers and bomb attacks outside venues during their performances. Members have received threat calls, emails and texts, the most virulent after the production of Mujahid, a telefilm produced by Ajoka about the “jihadi mindset and how it is destroying society”, aired in 2005. “The film was a warning against jihadi violence—which until then hadn’t assumed the scale it has today—and said that if the issue wasn’t addressed it would spiral out of control,” says Nadeem. “The government’s response to that was to say that people like me need to be thrown outside Pakistan; in the parliament they talked about having our group banned, they had conferences accusing us of being enemies of Pakistan.”

The high drama off-stage is wonderfully offset by the entertaining and often uproariously funny plays. Their take on family planning, specifically the issue of vasectomy, Jum Jum Jeeway Jaman Pura (Long Live the Delivery Town) in 1995, addressed the politically explosive subject through song and dance. Burqavaganza, which travelled to India for the NSD festival in 2008, was a laugh-out-loud satire on hypocritical Islamic clerics—and their attitudes to women, sex and sexuality.

The connection with India is not quite incidental; their relationship with India is “a political statement”, says Nadeem. The latest series of plays, which keeps rejecting its Arabised identity, keeps making constant connections with India. “Mera Rang De…,” says Gauhar, who has also directed the play, “is not just about Bhagat Singh, it’s about identity. After the creation of Pakistan, there was an effort to reinvent ourselves as Pakistanis, and identify ourselves with our Muslim identity and with the Middle East (West Asia). This was a way to justify the creation of a nation based on religious identity. But in that myopic view, thousands of years of history was wiped out,” she says.

Dara, their previous play, celebrated Mughal prince Dara Shikoh, and held up the peace-loving and Sufi-poet prince as the true face of Islam. “Nobody in Pakistan knows about Dara’s ideology because there has been an effort to erase him from our history books, as happens with anyone who doesn’t fit into the ideology of Pakistan and the two-nation theory. It is these distortions in history that we’re trying to correct,” she says.

Similarly, Singh, despite being a hero of the independence movement and a son of Lahore, has been ignored because he was a non-Muslim and a socialist, says Nadeem. “He is an important role model in present times, when the current generation doesn’t know of the dream of socialism that inspired people in the previous century,” he says. “They need to know that there are other things more inspiring than the insanity of suicide bombers,” he says.

“Jashan-e-Faiz” Indo-Pak poetry flows under Faiz’s benevolent umbrella/ By Rashmi Talwar

Kashmir Times Front Page Magazine - 'Jashan-E- Faiz'/ By Rashmi Talwar on Jan-1-st 2012

Indo-Pak poetry flows under Faiz's benevolent umbrella / By Rashmi Talwar

Published on Front page Magazine in Kashmir Times on January 1st 2012

“Jashan-e-Faiz” Centenary Celebration of Faiz Ahmed Faiz

Day –I
Indo-Pak poetry flows under Faiz’s benevolent umbrella

By Rashmi Talwar

Were I to compare, the Urdu-Punjabi poetry of Faiz Ahmed Faiz, one of the greatest poets of the subcontinent –it would be to a ‘Blue-Blooded Horse’. The poetry of Faiz possesses the free spirit, the depth –a hallmark of the Graceful Stallion, thus …:
Its star speckled forehead – satire,
Its pointed-ears- perfectly attuned to the murmurs of meadows,
Its gait – majestic, regal, undeterred,
Its upright flashy tail- of words whipped and blazing their own path,
Its spirit- mystifying and unshackled,
Its power- untamed, gazelle-like,
Its energy- boundless, astir with rebellion,
Its fodder-graze- an outpouring emerging from hunger of untold human sufferings,
Its water-nectar- the unmatched adulation of those he took up for…
Its hoof-marks -inscribed in Mighty Earth for ever….

Then when they tried to tame, bound or incarcerate this spirited soul, he galloped free, emerging more powerful, fearless and unbridled, his poetic insignia shaping popular public imagination and infusing fear in Aakas of ill-gotten empires, self-declared Lords, assuming the role of God Almighty.

To the oppressor, Faiz addressed thus: ‘Qafas hai bas mein tumhaare, tumhaare bas mein nahin/ Chaman mein aatish-e-gul ke nikhaar ka mausam’ (‘To his captors, a garden-bird booms: A cage is all that you have in your power. But, nothing and no one possesses the power to keep the garden from blooming when the time comes for lush flowerings.’)

In the backdrop of the cascading umbrella of this mellifluous, lilting poetic rhythm of Faiz Ahmed Faiz, poets, artists transcended boundaries of oppressive borders of India and Pakistan to confluence at Zorawar Singh Auditorium of Jammu University, for the two-day Festival organized by Jammu Civil Society for Art and Literature (JCSAL) in collaboration with Indian Council for Cultural Relations (ICCR), for the ‘Jashan-e-Faiz’ –the 100th birth anniversary of one of the greatest poets of the sub-continent. This, in celebration of his free-soul, his haunting words, weaving the stark reality of upheavals, of pain, of human values combined with nature and its connotations, in its truest form.

The grand Fest opened by comperers of the evening essayed many couplets of Faiz, while the chief guest of the evening, Jammu and Kashmir, Chief Minister Omar Abdullah, sat enraptured after lighting the traditional lamp inaugurating the extravaganza.

As Faiz’s enormous and potent emotions of poetry combined and mingled with contemporary, original artistic structures of ghazal, dance, drama, the poetic symposium rekindled the bonds of a cohabitation torn apart, as Salima Hashmi, Faiz’s daughter, the guest of honor, sat moist-eyed watching the galaxy of Indian and Pakistani artists , poets who stood tall in their respective countries, churn out the best of original poetry covering aspects as banal as corruption and as soft as hands folded in prayer.

The stage came alive with Ustad Hamid Ali Khan, Pakistan’s finest exponents of classical singing and ghazal.
His vibrating, variegated pitch adding magic to the famous couplet ‘Laagi re, Tau Say Laagi…, najar sayyian laagi ..’ . Jammu’s jam-packed audience too matched the tempo of the song, that they may have loved on television, internet or savored on radio channels, giving a resounding ovation to the maestro, unseen in these parts.

Their response turned feverish with ‘Mainu Tera Jiya Sohna Hor Labda Nahi….’ and ‘Honthon Pay Kabhi Unke Mera Naam Bhi Aaye’ as Hamid‘s son Nayab Ali Khan joined in a raga jugalbandi, courting a frenzy of incessant applause.

Earlier, Ch. Masood Ahmad, former Vice Chancellor of Baba Ghulam Shah Badshah University delivered welcome address while JCSAL President, Aslam Qureshi presented memento to the Chief Minister who stated that ‘building bridges between two warring nations, India and Pakistan, could fructify not with mere government efforts but with civil societies of both pitching in their might for forging friendship’,
Richa Jain of India took the stage, presenting one of the most graceful performances of Kathak on Faiz’s poetry “Aaye kuchh abr kuchh sharab aye/ Isske baad aaye jo azaab aaye…”(let the clouds come, let the wine flow, If then trouble comes, so be it ..) And followed closely with rendition of Faiz’s poetry, Jagir Singh Punjabi sang “Rabba Sachiya, tu tay Akhiya si, Jaa Oye Bandiya Jag Da Shah hain Tu, Sadian Naimtan terian Doltan Nain, Sada Naib tay Alijah hain Tu…” raising the hackles of the common man who implores the Almighty about His promise of bounties, but left him at the mercy of a corrupt and cruel setup with .. ‘Kithay Dhons Police Sarkar di, Kithay Dhandli Patwar Di …. Changa Shah Banaya ei Rab Sayiaan…’ or the soulful …Jadoon diyaan, tere nal lar gayiaan ankhiaan , Allah di saun odo-diyaan, Rab di saun odo-diyaan , sau vi na sakiyaan ..”

Thus, galloped the horse in wild abandon, unto the vast horizons….of poetry, melody, dance….to the resounding applause of kadardaans of his poetry.
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BOX- A
Anwar Masood brought the house down …on Indo Pak Mushiara:
No one could have brought the curtains down on the grand mushiara as aptly as the best Urdu- Punjabi poet of Pakistan Anwar Masood, a humble soul with a maverick touch of comic poetry that could stir and lend guffaws to the most cynical of critics as also bring tears in turn with his sweeping emotive genre of poems, with equal aplomb. When asked about his matchless command in wit and sad poetry, he replied, “I have seen the worst spells of poverty and suffering from which emerged the sad poetry, but that I did not give up and held my faith with a smile is what produced the mirth in comic situations that I observed.”

Anwar who is not only a accomplished poet but also a star performer, brought the house down of the Jammu audience in the jam –packed Zorawar Singh auditorium of Jammu University with his well known witty poetry such as ‘Bunyan’(vest seller ) – Bunyan len jande ho/ Bunyan le ke aande ho /Paande ho toh pendi nahi /Pey jaye te lendi nahi /Le jaye te dooji vari paan jogi rehndi nahi / Bunyan mein diyanga !/ Pao gaye te peh jaye /Lao ge te leh jaye / Le jaye te dooji vari paan jogi reh jaye/ Bunyan meri vadiya bunyan meri top di !/ Vadeyaan nu pori ave niikyaan de naap di /Cheez hove asli te muhon pai boldi / Dhup nal gori lage, rassi ute doldi / Jine vare chaho tusi ais nu handa lao/ Pher bhavein bachcheyaan da jangia bana lao .

His other poems include Aj Ki Pakayiey, Anarkali diyan shaanan, Jehlum de pul te, Pit Sayaapa,
Hun Ke Keray, His most famous comic was a comparison –‘Lassi Te Chaa’
And those that highlighted the social, parochial scourges and brought teardrops ‘Meli Meli Dhoup’ and ‘Ambri’(about a mother beaten by her son).

His couplets too were poignant –‘Mera Lakhaan da vickda Takiyaa, Je Hanjooan da mul penda!’(My pillow would have sold for millions, if Tears had a price!) Or one –‘Tujhay Nahi Hay Abhi Fursat-E-Karam, Na Sahi…Thakay Nahi Hain Mere Hath Abhi Dua Kartey…!’
(If, You O Lord, have no time for blessings, never mind/ My hands are still not tired of offering prayers!).

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DAY- II
New Beginning: Jammu’s Indo –Pak Mushiara undivides the line of divide
Poets turn ecstatic on response by Urdu connoisseurs
By Rashmi Talwar

Jashan-e-Faiz carry-fwd from front page of Kashmir Times /By Rashmi Talwar

Aaiye haath uthaayein hum bhi
Hum jinhen rasm-e-dua yaad nahin
Hum jinhen soz-e-mohabbat ke siwaa
Koyi but, koyi khudaa yaad nahin

Aaiye arz guzaren ki nigaar-e-hasti
Zaher-e-imroz mein shirini-e-fardaa bhar de
Wo jinhein tabe garaanbaarii-e-ayyaam nahin
Un-ki palakon pe shab-o-roz ko halkaa kar de

(Come, let us raise our hands, /We, who have forgotten the ritual of prayer/ We, who do not remember anything other than the searing of love/ Do not remember any idol, nor any God/Come, let us beseech that the Creator of existence may fill sweetness in the morrow, from the poison of today/Those who cannot bear the burden of the passing day/May their eyelids be unburdened of the night and day.)
Faiz’s poem ‘Dua’ recited by Ayub Khawar a prominent Pakistani poet, writer and director of Geo TV, was a befitting tribute to the inaugural Indo-Pak Mushiara on the second day of ‘Jashn-e-Faiz’.

Poets from India and Pakistan escorted their poetry onto the vibrant stage, rekindling the bonds of brotherhood in an amalgam of varied genres of original thought, facing the current situation in both countries, of love, hate, suffering and laughter. The programme coursed through compere Anwar Jalalpuri adding spice with a spoof on poets and their poetry in a light banter, making it more enjoyable.

The extraordinary event as an apt tribute to Faiz Ahmed Faiz, one of the greatest poets the South Asia has produced, brought Indo-Pak artistes and poets together in the winter capital of J&K. It was sheer delight to hear the first Indian poet an IPS officer from Ludhiana, Fayyaz Farooqi who made simple ideas so profound in his poetry – “Itna aasaan nahi hota kissi ka hona/Seekhna padta hai bande ko bhi banda hona/ Yoon bura hona to duniya mein bura hai, lekin/Itna achha bhi nahi hota hai, achha hona”.

Poets from both sides commanded rapt attention from the discerning Jammu audience on issues of corruption, gender bias and poverty that plague both countries. Ayub Khawar recited his own creation –Saat suron ka behta dariya, tere naam/ har sur mein hai rang dhanak (rainbow) ka , tere naam/ Tere bina jo umr bitai, beet gayi/ ab iss umr ka baaki hissa, tere naam’ that endeared him to the audience who took it as a bonding , Khawar added – “Instead of suspending the dialogue process or the confidence-building measures because the bigger issues are not being sorted out, both countries should start resolving smaller issues to develop mutual faith.”

Another couplet reinforced the brotherhood, post partition as Aizaz Azar a Pakistani poet recited -“Bichhadne waale ne waqt-e-rukhsat kuchh iss tarah se palat ke dekha/ Ki jaise woh bhi ye keh raha ho, tum apne ghar ka khayal rakhna” (At the time of separation, the parting one, turned to look back as if to say, you too, keep your home safe).

Noted Indian poet, Nida Fazli of–‘Kabhi kisi ko mukammal jahaan nahi milta, kaheen zameen to kaheen aasmaan nahi milta’ fame- regaled with his couplets (Doha) that hit the target of corruption through the eyes of a child -“ Naqsha le kar haath mein bachcha hai hairaan, Kaisay deemak kha gayi uss ka Hindustan.”
Or one upon disparities between the rich and poor as well as paucity of accommodation in Mumbai like city “Bachcha bola dekh kar, masjid aalishan/ Allah tere ek ko, itna bada makaan”. Taking a dig at politicians Nida recited, “Issa, Allah, Ishwar, Sare Mantar Seekh, Jane Kab Kis Naam Par, Miley Ziyada Bheekh..”

Ashok Sahil also took up the baton on corruption with “Chaman ke vaaste kuchh bhi nahi kiya jisne/Ussi ko sab se ziyada hawas bahaar ki hai”. Another stalwart, Nawaz Deobandi, who has written some unforgettable ghazals sung by Jagjit Singh mesmerized the audience.
Two feminist Pakistani lady poets Kishwar Naheed and Ishrat Afreen shook the edifice of society of its gender bias, with the poignant rendition of poetry. Ishrat recited – ‘Kheton Men Kaam Karati Hui Ladakiyan/ jeth ki champai dhup ne/jin ka sona badan surmai kar diya/jin ko raton men oas aur paale ka bistar miley/ din ko suraj sarron par jale/’

A wave of myriad emotions swept over the connoisseurs of poetry where 20 noted poets recited their poems amid shouts of ‘encore’ and ‘wah wah’.

Another poet from Punjab, Panchhi, regaled with his romantic poetry, with beautifully used allegories like wine, women and youthfulness. He recited, “Ghul rahi hai sharaab, pani mein, jal raha hai shabaab, paani mein. Khat ka meray to yoon jawaab aaya, Uss nay fainka gulaab, pani mein.”

But it was Anwar Masood, who brought the curtains down at the mushaira, and stole the show in his inimitable style and his satirical brilliant poetry, making people both laugh and cry. His witty classic: “Yehi To Dosto Le De Ke Mera Business Hai/ Tumhi Kaho Ki Main Kyon Iss Se Tod Loon Naata/ Agar ‘Corruption’ bhi Chhod Di Main Ne/ Mujhe To Aur Koi Kaam Bhi Nahi Aata.”

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BOX-B————
HIGHLIGHTS :

• The J&K CM Omar Abdullah tweeted a day before the start of the Fest : “Jashan-e-Faiz in Jammu to celebrate the centenary of Faiz Ahmed Faiz. 2 days of some of the best Urdu poets and performers from India & Pakistan”.

• Sound system fumbled during the Kathak recital of Richa Jain

• When Ustad Hamid Ali Khan announced the entry of his son Nayab Ali Khan, lady compere who otherwise was flawless, apologized for want of time to the ghazal maestro, not once but twice. The situation was saved both times by Ravinder Kaul a global critic of music and co-compere in the programme wherein the crowd that was intoxicated with the ghazals demanding encores, were on the verge of venting their ire, in ways unknown, on the lady compere.

• During a formal dinner by J&K Chief Minister Omar Abdullah for participants and organizers, Anwar Masood , one of the best known contemporary poets in Pakistan for his comic poetic style, left the CM in a state of ‘rip roaring laughter’ drawing a comment from a guest, that ‘never have we seen the CM laugh so in a long-long time’.

• Many felt the dress of Kathak dancer could have been more up-market and dainty in sync with her graceful rendition.

• During a private dinner hosted by Aslam Goni, former advocate general of the State, wherein ‘wazwan’ was served in traditional Kashmiri style, shared by four in one large container. The joke went that if Pakistanis were able to finish the last morsel served they could take Kashmir, but the Pakistanis raised the hands in surrender and said India can have Kashmir, as well as the rest of the Kashmiri delicacies inviting applause from the host side.

• Many who were laughing and clapping during the grand finale comic poetry of the matchless Pakistani poet Anwar Masood were reduced to tears with his recitation of poem “Ambari’ (mother!) and his couplet –‘Tujhe Nahi Hai Abhi Fursatey Karam, Na Sahi/ Thake Nahi Hain Mere Haath Abhi Dua Karte ..’

• The president of the ICCR, Dr Karan Singh, could not attend the function and his message was read out by his son and former minister Ajatshatru Singh.

• The poets enthralled the audience with their couplets on love-hate relationship between the two neighbours, prevailing political scene and romantic verses.They teased, laughed and recited their couplets amidst loud cheers and echoes of mukarrar, bahut khoob, irshad and wah-wahs.

• Cultural Attache from the Iranian Embassy specially came from New Delhi to attend the Indo-Pak mushaira.
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2011 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

The concert hall at the Syndey Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 15,000 times in 2011. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 6 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

FAIZ’S REBELLION WAS A PASSION :Salima Hashmi Faiz ‘s Daughter /By Rashmi Talwar

‘This silence of the Majority is worrisome’ Salima Hashmi daughter of one of the greatest poets of the subcontinent Faiz Ahmed Faiz , says about the current situation plaguing Pakistan in terms of terrorism. In an exclusive interview to Rashmi Talwar on the way to Pakistan via the Wagah Attari Indo-Pak Joint Check Post after presiding as the Guest of Honor at “Jashan-e-Faiz organized by Jammu Civil Society for Art and Literature (JCSAL), in Jammu” in connection with centenary celebrations of poet Faiz Ahmed Faiz, being seen as the biggest-ever poetic congregation cum festival in the trouble-torn Jammu and Kashmir.

Kishwar Naheed, Rashmi Talwar, Salima Hashmi

Salima Hashmi daughter of Faiz Ahmed Faiz Interview in Times of India BY Rashmi Talwar

Q1: What was it like to stay in the shadow of your father- Faiz Ahmed Faiz -one of the finest poets?

Salima: For me, he was more of a father and less of a poet people knew him to be. My father was a soft spoken and gentle human being with not a harsh word to anyone and I too had taken after him as a shy, quiet, soft person. When I used to come to him, about odious comparisons when people asked me of my poetic skills, my father used to brush it aside and say “Ek ghar mein ek he shaiyar kafi hai’. It is only when I started teaching that I went against my natural mettle and learned to express myself in public. My paintings are in a way like a luminous visual translation of my father’s poetry. A new book, ‘A Song for This Day’, by Shoaib Hashmi, that holds 51 translated poems of my father in its covers, carries my painting as a watermark on each page of poetry

Q2: Many believe that Faiz was against the Indo-Pak partition of 1947. His silence with merely one poem on the partition (“Ye dagh dagh ujaala, ye shab-guzeeda sehar/ Who intezaar tha jis ka, ye who sehar to nahi”) authenticated this perception. How did he really feel about it?

Salima: My father was shocked by the catastrophe wrought by the partition. He told me, “It is only the British who may be delighted with this partition”. I asked him why he had not written more poetry, other than only one poem ‘Subh-i-Aazadi’ the first written after independence on August 14, 1947 with these pained but ringing words: “yeh daagh daagh ujaala, ye shab-gazeeda saher/ woh intezaar tha jiska yeh woh saher to nahin”( This dim, stained light, this morning that still bears the imprint of a dark night’s blows: surely this is not the morn that we had waited for all these long years) -He replied, “The monumental loss of life, exodus and bloodshed numbed and overwhelmed me. We wanted independence from the British but what this Radcliff line would denote, look like, what shape it would take, all of us had only a vague idea”. However my father wrote several editorials and essays in those days filled with grief over the pointless massacres, the terrible killings of innocents and appealed for sympathy and aid for the victims and for an end to the mayhem. I still remember when I was a child how my father would talk about his Indian poet friends like Firaq Gaurakhpuri, Hasrat Mohani, Majaz, Ali Sardar Jafri and others.
He never wrote much specifically about Partition. He may have believed that to make statements about such issues was the job of politicians. In the years leading up to 1947, Faiz and most intellectuals considered freedom from colonial rule as the most important matter. He wrote in one: ‘We all knew that. It would be safe to say that no one (including politicians) expected the human catastrophe that Partition eventually brought’.

Q3: What was so compelling about Jammu, other than the fact that your father centurion was being celebrated here, that moved you to tears?

Salima:The whole year devoted to Faiz’s celebrations in both India and Pakistan has overwhelmed me, but coming to Jammu was ever so special. “Ever since my aunt (fuffi) told me about my father and mother’s little known rendezvous in Jammu, I was yearning to visit Jammu. While most know about their Srinagar connection with his ‘nikkah’ with my mother Alys –a British, sanctified by Sheikh Abdullah, few know about my father’s frequent visits to Jammu via the Jammu-Sialkot train when they were in love.
“It was in the year 1938, that on the way to Jammu from Sialkot via train during summers, my aunt spotted them together. My aunt told me, “She was coming with her relatives and noticed Faiz in the train, and Faiz hurriedly changed his wagon on noticing us. On arrival at Jammu railway station, Faiz hastily crossed the station and approached a tonga, in which a beautiful English lady was waiting. Without looking elsewhere, Faiz hopped into the carriage and disappeared. Jammu being a small city, Faiz was noticed with that same beautiful lady.” My aunt confided that she kept “their secret” and “Faiz knew it! That served to bond us siblings as best friends”.

Q4: Any memories about the time when Faiz was incarcerated in Pakistan jails?

Salima : My father used to make light of his prison term in Sahiwal jail, it was known as Montgomery jail, then. He used to gloss over that period with a simple ease. Despite his inner turmoil, he used to amuse us by saying that “it was the same cell where Moti Lal Nehru and Badshah Khan were imprisoned during the freedom movement.” He invited my sister Munissa and me to the prison cell once and showed us the flowers he had planted. The ward has now been named as ‘Faiz Ward’ and the cell as ‘Kamra-e-Faiz’. Even the place in prison where he turned a wilderness into a garden is still there, bountiful with flowers, as if time has stood still, I was so moved with the sight of flowers when I visited it, and thought ‘even the flowers had held fast and not left my father, even after he left’. However, he had long spells of silence when he just observed the life pass by, doing nothing. Looking at a squirrel, tree, clouds, the moonlight… for hours, weeks passed by and he would not write a single poem. His long letters written to my mother Alys are very revealing of this state.

Whenever criticism came his way which was ‘huge’ he was known to never respond to critics, he just took a puff of cigarette and smiled ! There was a time when he was in Hyderabad jail and I wrote him a letter before my birthday and asked him for a silk dress. And was thrilled to receive a shalwar, kameez, duppata in silk with exquisite embroidery on my B’Day.

During his spell in the jail he wrote Dast-e-Saba and we held a book release function where people cried while reading the book. I was overwhelmed with the feelings that indeed my father had magical powers to move people with his words. Whenever a new poem emerged from his cell in the jail, it became the hottest news and spread like wild fire.

Q 5. What is your personal assessment of his work and poetry?

Salima: The fact that many who were condemned to the gallows in Zia-Ul-Haq’s regime went reciting his poems is the true assessment of his work that millions kissed in prayer. His rebellion was a passion, an internal matter, it was never used for swinging speeches; it was internalized and reserved for poetry; which was potent and constant.
His poetry incorporated both the values of beauty and social responsibilities. His message was couched in beautiful words with an almost wistful quality. That is why his poetry was unlike the writings of his contemporaries, with a style more mellifluous, his tone soft, his poems smooth and flowing, while other poets had a stronger tone.
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REMEMBERING FAIZ

Poets and artists converged on Zorawar Singh Auditorium of Jammu University for ‘Jashan-e-Faiz’ Festival to mark the 100th Birth Anniversary of Faiz Ahmed Faiz. A galaxy of Indian and Pakistani artists and poets churned out the best of original poetry covering aspects as banal as corruption and as soft as hands folded in prayer.
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Q 6. What do you think of the current situation in an environment of growing terrorism with specific reference to Pakistan and how can it be tackled?

Salima: The ‘silence’ of the majority who is against terrorism is worrisome. But they must remember that silence is not and will not be the solution. The scourge of terrorism is not confined to Pakistan alone; it is spreading its tentacles everywhere. It needs to be nipped by having all South Asian countries including Bangladesh to cooperate and coordinate with each other for a common cause to undermine and eradicate it. Remember those who stay silent today may not have a tomorrow for themselves or their near and dear ones… And recited Faiz’s poem –‘Lekin ab zulm ki miyaad ke din thode hain/ Ik zaraa sabr ki fariyaad ke din thode hain/ Arsaa-e-dahar ki jhulsi hui veeraani mein/ Hum ko rehana hai pa yoon hi to nahi rehana hai/ Ajnabi haathon ka benaam garaanbaar sitam/ Aaj sehana hai hamesha to nahi sehana hai..

Salima Hashmi, is Dean, School of Visual Arts, Beacon House National University, Lahore, has taught for 31-years at the National College of Arts (NCA), Lahore and remained its Principal for 4-years. Standing tall as an accomplished painter and an intense writer on arts, she curates exhibitions of contemporary art and traditional textiles, with her work exhibited in Pakistan and abroad. Her book ‘Unveiling the Visible-Lives and Works of Women Artists of Pakistan’ and publication ‘Memories, Myths, Mutations – Contemporary Art of India and Pakistan’ co-authored with Yashodhara Dalmia for Oxford University Press, India and her express devotion to art, mentoring and promoting young artists has won her Pakistan’s ‘Pride of Performance award’.
Salima is the co-founder of the Rohtas Gallery in Islamabad, established in 1981, and established Rohtas-2 in Lahore in 2001.

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~DROP~ By Rashmi Talwar

~DROP~ By Rashmi Talwar

On a grass blade I glisten
Whisper on the rocky slide
Still is my whistle
Brave, my plight !

Look! I am Flirting with a cloudy slice
Now ! Rocking on a mountain top
Its bristles push me just a slight
Oh! How I wriggle in delight !

Flirting with a tiny nose
I tickle the cheek bones first
Then down the mount just a bit
I gently glide over lips to kiss

Oh My Love! What a beauteous sight
Up above and sometimes low
Darling, I snuggle in petals tonight
Romancing the arc of a rainbow

Tis only the First Ray that makes me merge
Within the Sun, its light, and its unfolding urge…….By Rashmi Talwar

Lokan nal jurian jeev vigyani Dr Amarjit Singh Tanda —By Rashmi Talwar

Lokan nal jurian jeev vigyani Dr Amarjit Singh Tanda
By Rashmi Talwar ————His Multiple interests have made Dr Amarjit Singh Tanda stand tall in Australia —— Mealybugs, weak stocks and wilted leaves irked him no end, as he looked with wonderment at the vast expanse of green fields and thus his passion for seeing ‘unspotted’ green leaves and a rich harvest of crops in [...]

I remember my first day in The Tribune Office Amritsar located in a dilapidated building in Hall Bazaar. I was given a chair at the back of the office with two windows and a stack of press notes mostly in Punjabi, which were seeming to be anxiously waiting for me. On seeing them, just as in the Movie by AAmir Khan –’Tarre Zameen Par’ the Punjabi alphabets started floating in front of me. I was feeling like the poorest student back-bencher in the class, who has loads of books as assignment and cannot get past even a single sentence. The windows around me looked like live screens popping with Punjabi alphabets. Since i had studied Punjabi for just two years in school which comprised of alphabets and their connectivity in first and few simple stories in second, it was one of the most dreadful moments for me. Years later Punjabi came to haunt me and like they say, when one is burdened with a task one learns. Tribune taught me to speak, read and correct Punjabi I could not write though. This is translated piece by Prof SS Chinna about Dr Amarjit Singh Tanda a Zoologist…..Read on …..

FIRST PUBLISHED IN PUNJABI TRIBUNE ON NOVEMBER 15, 2011

Amritsar Hospital comes to the aid of Photojournalist –Bijendra Ahlawat in The Tribune

Amritsar hospital comes to aid of photojournalist
Bijendra Ahlawat/TNS

Rohtak, September 5
Raj Kishan Nain, an eminent photojournalist who faces the risk of losing his eyesight due to severe damage to his eyes, has found a ray of hope with the offer of help extended by an Amritsar-based eye institute after the publication of a news report in these columns on Sunday.

Dr Rohit Om Prakash, Director of the Dr Om Prakash Eye Institute, Amritsar, has contacted Raj Kishan and has offered to help him.

In an e-mail to Raj Kishan, the doctor has stated that the institute was ready to provide surgical and other treatment free of cost to him.

“Dr Rohit Om Prakash was touched by the story published about the ace photojournalist and decided to help him by taking up his case on priority,” said Rashmi Talwar, media manager of the institute. “Raj Kishan should contact the hospital at his convenience, but at the earliest,” she said.

It may be recalled that the Tribune had carried a story titled “Ace journalist faces loss of vision” on September 4 in which it had been revealed how Raj Kishan, based in a village in the district here, had been fighting a long battle to get back his vision fully but was unable to do so as he was suffering from a rare kind of problem. Though he had been told by doctors to get his eyes operated for cataract if he wanted to avoid total blindness, but with a burnt retina, the hope of getting his sight back seemed bleak. Confirming the offer made to him, Raj Kishan said would contact Dr Rohit Om Prakash soon.

Though Raj Kishan is the only photo-artiste from the northern region whose work has been featured in three permanent art galleries set up in his name, the government is yet to make any offer of help or assistance to ensure the recovery of his sight.

Migrants Vital Link in Australia…………BY RASHMI TALWAR

Migrants Vital Link in Australia…………BY RASHMI TALWAR

Poonam Dua Director of Website Doctor's Pulse in Australia

First Published IN columns of NRI SERIES -Punjabi Pride in “Times Of India” ON August 29, 2011 page 4

It has taken nearly 6 months for this article on Poonam Dua to see the light of day even as I had given up.My Big congratulations to Poonam to have continued to show her grit inspite of all the challenges she had faced and continues to face. Her smiling persona and her fighter spirit had won me over. I wish that she makes huge strides in concretizing the brilliant ideas that keep flashing to her. To all the NRIs whom I interacted with for this series, I apologize for not writing their pieces. Reason was the sluggishness of the TOI to publish the series in right earnest and continuity.

Migrants Vital Link in Australia…………BY RASHMI TALWAR

Grit, tenacity and a head for business catapulted Poona Dua from a struggling denitst Down Under to a business innovator. untdeterred by her failed marriage she managed to carve a niche for herself in a a foreign land.
Last year’s nomination for ‘Telstra Business Women’s Awards 2010’ –a former Government owned Telecom company in the categories –‘Commonwealth Bank ‘Business Owner Award’ and ‘Nokia Business Innovation Award’ for her role as Director of ‘ Doctor’s Pulse’ an internet service that enjoys Global monopoly and International recognition in providing assistance to overseas dentists in their preliminary stages prior and during their arrival in Australia .

Merely a week after her marriage to a Director of a Global IT Company in Melbourne, Australia, the BDS graduate (dentistry) was ousted from her in-laws house in Patiala. Confident that her husband did have the same mindset on dowry she set out to join him in Australia , but only to be disappointed .

She soon realized that she had made a mistake by handing over the money she as carrying, to her husband on her arrival to the country .

Struggling with life in a foreign land, not knowing its laws and compulsions she had deposited the dollars that she had traveled with to her husband. And then came the test, when she was besieged by the prospect of being completely at the mercy of her spouse. A few trips to India helped in collecting course material cracking the various exams and fulfilling formalities in Australia with support from her family. This entire gamut of exploring gave her an idea to make a business portal on helping those like her, especially Indians.

A gift of a computer by a former boss of her husband for their marriage brought a ray of hope and when her benefactor came to know about her condition, he even funded her webspace, when she was in Australia, which set her dreams rolling.
Talking to TOI from Melbourne Dua said, ‘Starting from humble amount of $ 20 that I had earned from giving a Reiki camp (a Reiki Master) in a community house. And seeing the troubles that overseas dentists undergo and facing them myself , when I arrived in Australia, ‘Doctor’s Pulse’ originated as an idea of providing a Global platform to overseas dentists to help prepare them for the exams in the comfort of their homes. Licensure exams are held by Australian Dental Council in order to allow overseas dentists practice dentistry in Australia.” Enthusiastically she adds –‘We plan to add more guidance patterns in professions like Medical, Physiotherapy, Pharmacy and Nursing etc.’

Explaining her sentiments that gave her the confidence Dr Dua says –‘Until the time ‘Doctor’s Pulse’ was started many overseas entrants were sitting exams just to understand their pattern besides facing the frustrations of making a living in a foreign country, maintaining their student visas, paying university fee and paying hefty ADC exam fees and then failing the exam and going into depression or leaving dentistry altogether and working as cleaners, customer care etc.

Dentistry is an acquired skill, which takes best years of our lives, and then seeing it go waste is devastating.

After 2 years of thorough research and professional development ‘Doctor’s Pulse’ was formally created in August 2006. Hence, reducing the frustrations and ensuring dentists follow their own line of work instead of wasting their skill.
“Designing the website came from the web designing course I had undertaken in India. We then contacted our Punjabi/Indian friends and started to spread awareness about this guidance programme. When the First Student Registered, from the Registration money, he paid me I was able to register my Business Name, ABN number and open a Bank account in Business name for him to transfer the fee.”

“Today ‘Doctor’s Pulse’ positions itself as providing assistance to overseas dentists in their preliminary as well as clinical stages, in Australia and in India and hope to add more countries soon.”
In the process of assisting and guiding Dr Dua was able to help many Indians and especially Punjabis in Australia.
Giving the credit of this Project she says, “This Project couldn’t have been possible without continuous help from Mark Livings (in USA, former boss of her husband) who supported this project financially & emotionally, Dr Michael whose unending guidance, kindness and patience was a motivational factor and my family who provided financial help and supported me through all my difficult times.”.

I did a Certificate IV in Business Management and under DEEWR (Department of Education, Employment and Workplace Relations) and we started expanding.
I was successful in achieving 1-year scholarship provided by DEEWR under NEIS (New Enterprise Incentive Scheme program). Wherein I was introduced to CDAA (Career development Association of Australia) of which I became a professional member.

During the presentations I gave in CDAA expo’s Held by ‘Herald Sun’. The Executives of CDAA were impressed, Since we were targeting a very niche area and guiding Punjabi’s/Indians, helping them settle in Australia besides targeting specific problems faced by our fellow countrymen. Most importantly the website became the missing link between the Australian society and Punjabi’s/Indians.”

During this time it came to our notice that most migrants were not availing the services because they thought they were meant only for health professionals.

In our attempt to help ‘general’ migrants ‘Knotty Affairs’ a new website was created in 2009, which besides other things helps migrants assimilate in Australia.
“This organization particularly went very active during attacks on Indians and amongst various people several dignitaries’ like the Honorable Prime Minister, Deputy Prime Minister George Lekakis, DEEWR, State Governments, Chris Evans Senator for Immigration, were contacted by the us and we were continuously updated on policy matter for the ethnic population facing attacks .”

The following made “Knotty Affairs” a success which included pointers on ‘Beginning Life in Australia, Do’s & Don’ts’ ‘What to do soon after arrival ‘, ‘How to Apply for a Tax File Number’ , ‘Register with Medicare’ , ‘ Open a bank account’, ‘ Register with Centrelink’ , ‘Contact the Health Undertaking Service’, ‘Register for English classes’, ‘children’s enrollment in school’, ‘ how to Apply for a driver’s license’ , ‘Where to go for help’

Apart from that – for Settlement services for recently arrived migrants- the website provided vitals on ‘Migrant Resource Centers and Migrant Service Agencies’ as well as ‘Adult Migrant English Program’, ‘ Ethnic and community organizations’ besides information on Legal aid, Violence, Consumer rights , Emergency relief and also on ‘Finding relatives and their telephone numbers and Crisis counseling including Marriage and other relationships , Torture and trauma counseling, Financial services and how could a migrant approach Concessions for low-income earners.

It gives a brief peak into the Australian customs and laws that guides about Responsibilities and values, ‘Equality and anti-discrimination’, ‘Criminal offences’ Polite behavior’, ‘Clothing’ and Common Australian expressions.

Amongst other things Dr Dua volunteers with AMES (AMES is the largest provider of English language and Settlement services in Victoria, in addition to being a major supplier of specialist employment and training services in Melbourne.) and became a professional Mentor with AMES where she guides people from health industry helping them get jobs etc besides guidance to refugees in helping them with English language.

Besides helping migrants, she runs community courses in Burwood a neighborhood house with free Reiki healing.

Having being involved with HELPAGE INDIA from my teenage years and also being awarded Helpage India Certificate for ‘SPECIAL EFFORT’ by it, had sensitized me towards problems of others.
My confidence was boosted by not only helping others but getting recognition for creativity.

Dr Dua recalls how in her youthful years in 2002 in India, she won a Poetry Competition and was selected amongst 18 people all over the world to attend ‘The World Poetry Convention’ Held in USA” . Apart from writing Poetry, she has won state level prizes in the classical Singing, Dance and Acting, in India.

However, through the whole gamut of her trials and tribulations, Dua has not lost her characteristic Punjabi humor and has named her pet dog as ‘Nathu Lal Ji’

…………eom

Man who bared truth of Jallianwala massacre In Amritsar, Govt to honour….BY Aditi Tandon

Govt to honour man who bared truth of Jallianwala massacre in Amritsar

The Department of Posts will release a commemorative stamp in Pt Santanam’s memory.

Aditi Tandon

New Delhi, August 23
Little is known of Pandit K. Santanam, the man who first bared the horrors of Jallianwala Bagh massacre to the world and who, despite being a conservative Iyengar from Tamil Nadu, left his native place and made Lahore his permanent home. This August 25, the Department of Posts will release a commemorative stamp in Santanam’s memory, 62 years after he passed away.

Much of the man’s contribution was made to Punjab, which he toured in the aftermath of the Jallianwala tragedy in Amritsar to reveal the truth. The government-appointed Hunter’s Committee had buried the facts which resulted in the Indian National Congress appointing its own committee to probe the tragedy.

Santanam, as secretary of this committee which comprised Mahatma Gandhi among others, helped compile a two-volume report on the massacre in the holy city of Amritsar, after recording the evidence of 1,700 survivors in times when the British had clamped martial law in the region, and blacked it out from the world.

“The volume came in 1920 and remains, to date, the most authentic record of the massacre. My father had a special love for Punjab, especially Lahore, where he lived until the Partition. Unfortunately, we were unable to carry back documents that contained references to him. All we had for record were the references to him contained in the works of Gandhiji and Nehruji. I am glad his work is being finally recognised,” Madhuri Sondhi, the lone surviving daughter out of the four that Santanam had, told The Tribune today.

She recalled the association her father had with The Tribune and how his house briefly hosted the newspaper during its clandestine publication from Lahore. The Tribune for its part elaborately covered the unusual inter-caste marriage Santanam, a Brahmin from Kumbakonam, had with Krishna, daughter of Arya Samaj leader Pandit Atma Ram Vedi, in 1916. “It was an unusual wedding for those days,” recalls Madhuri, widow of eminent parliamentarian and IFS topper, the late M L Sondhi.

She added that the Jallianwala tragedy was not just about April 13, 1919; it was equally about the brutal reign of terror the British unleashed after the massacre in their attempt to thwart legitimate protests.

“It was then that the British embroiled top leaders for waging a war against the government. My father represented them, being a barrister with the Lahore High Court,” she says.

Santanam was defence counsel in what came to be called as the Lahore Leaders Case. To seek its transfer out of Lahore and ensure an impartial probe, he undertook a dramatic journey to summer capital Simla, just to inform the Indian member of the Viceroy’s Executive Council of the goings-on in Punjab and the horrors of Martial Law.

“He hid under a bunk in a railway carriage where an Englishman had seated himself. He could not get the case transferred but he did bring the facts before the rest of India which didn’t have a clue to what was happening in Punjab post Jallianwala,” Madhuri says.

Also treasurer of the association set up for the defence of Bhagat Singh, Santanam, in 1924, became Managing Director of Lakshmi Insurance Company, which was later called the LIC of India. “That was at the behest of Lala Lajpat Rai, his close friend,” his daughter recalls. The man’s last assignment was as member of the advisory committee to the Ministry of Relief and Rehabilitation which rehabilitated the Partition victims.

Laughter challenges tears of Kashmir……………………. By Rashmi Talwar

“Kashmir Comedy Theatre Festival -2011”

Laughter challenges tears of Kashmir
By Rashmi Talwar

Bumbroo ! Bumbroo ! at 'Kashmir Comedy Theater Festival -2011

FIRST PUBLISHED IN KASHMIR TIMES MAGAZINE FRONT COVER ON JULY 10, 2011

‘Myon Shoosh’–My Love- Whisper the majestic Kashmir Mountains to me, opening their tessellated imposing arms, in a bear hug. I immerse into their beauty. The prickly needles of emerald hued conifers outlining their conical bodies, hurt me no more, they bring tickles at first, a smile and then a rolling laugh. It has been a quarter of a century since I last set foot in this wondrous land. ‘Maayi Barut Istaqbaal’ – Warm Welcome, ‘Khush Aamdeed’ – Happy Tidings, they murmur softly in my ear.

I raise my hand in a silent salute to the Jammu Kashmir Film Makers and Artists Co-operative Ltd (JKFMAC), the organizers who have brought the 10-day ‘Kashmir Comedy Theatre Festival -2011’ to this paradisiacal valley in the throes of tumult, as Shabbir Haider the Secretary General and CEO of JKFMAC puts it, “Where smiles come at a premium and laughter is in danger of growing extinct”.

A whole generation of Kashmiris turning old at 23 years, growing up in lurking fear and a daily call of attending dirges along with their elders, are completely cut off from what ‘normal’ childhood, adolescence and teenage years meant for others in India. For this generation it is so special to feel the emotion of hilarity, few have encountered or tasted in their lifetimes.

I feel there could be no better time. The ‘Amarnath Yatra’ is in full bloom albeit ‘under the shadow of the gun’, that provides pre-set security cover for the ‘laughter challenge’.

Serene, languid, doppling and dancing Dal Lake in Srinagar shows no sign of any fracas, smoothly letting the ‘shikaras’ or oblong romantic boats, slide on its beautiful belly, poked off and on by the paddle and rippling in mirth…

At Jammu and Srinagar airports, the almost embarrassing body search, the feel of metal detectors and human hands (even though female) feel like an amorous encroachment of privacy, not once, as at most airports, but three tier and times. Add to that, is the quick pick of a lady’s ‘tampon’ by a security guard and askance expression of suspicion followed by giggles when explained.

Strange, but some emotions of glee are traceable everywhere. I brush aside realms of media reports on turmoil and blood-baths to a ‘fake sting operation’ feeling some conspiracies lurking beneath the surface to bring disrepute to this virtual heaven on earth.

***
The grandeur of the inaugural ceremony on June 25th can hardly be gauged from the periphery of the venue of Sher-i-Kashmir International Convention Complex (SKICC) with gun-toting, quick response teams and armoured vehicles lined up, outlined with camouflaged-capped sharp shooters.

Inside, however, the cyan hued ‘pedicured’ lawns and lofty elusive Chinar trees are busy spreading their enchanted halcyon beauty to the surroundings, where guzzling laughter and fragrances of colors will rule for more than a week.

Ravinder Kaul, globally renowned theatre critic, has a wonderful take on comedy and satire in theatre. He puts it thus, “The man who slug out the first ‘abuse’ has done a great service to humanity. He has inadvertently given an alternative to human kind to vent out anger other than to invite the rival for a ‘bloody-duel’ to end the argument. His displeasure therefore has shed no blood or caused no bodily harm to anyone”.

And continues, “In theatre, especially in ‘satire’, an alternate way lends itself to vent out pent-up anger against the government policies, inadequacies of administration, all pervasive corruption, excesses of armed forces and of dogged militants with their quirky logic; creating havoc, deeply affecting and attacking the lives and vital ethos of Kashmiris”.

“Kashmiri-a peace loving community, is facing a whole gamut of daily life–threatening situations, robbing them of their privacy, peace and progress. The massive extent of corruption deprives and saps their ‘celebrated strengths’ and relegates their development in multiple spheres, to a mere trickle. For them, comedy and satire has come as a whiff of fresh mountain wind to air their grievances.”

***
The ceremony of the book release “Theatre Akh Tarruf”, authored by veteran theatre personality and Additional Director General, Doordarshan, Ashok Jailkhani is equally ‘theatrical’, albeit in the positive sense. Seeds of ‘Issbad’ are touched upon the heads and shoulders of the author, the chief guest and others at this auspicious occasion, as a tradition practiced by both Hindu and Muslim Kashmiris, and then thrown over the simmering coals in a ‘Kangri’ or a traditional vessel kept burning for warmth in the winter chill. A ‘pious’ fragrance emanates from the burning seeds and envelopes the surroundings, warding off evil spirits.

Thereafter, the Governor of this beauteous state Mr. NN Vohra unties the ribbon on the book, declares the Festival open with lighting of the ceremonial lamp to the flash of festoons and a swirl of colors of rainbow ‘phirans’- a typical Kashmiri garment, and matching swinging jewellery, classically Kashmiri.

Bumbroo ! Bumbroo ! at 'Kashmir Comedy Theater Festival -2011

It is ‘Bumbro, Bumbro’ time, a melody, as ten lovely lasses of Kashmir roll their ‘mehandied’-henna patterned hands-and lift themselves to melt into a frenzy of dance, bringing the audiences in close clasp of what one could say ‘befikri’-unmindful of worries.

Jammu girls match their Kashmiri counterparts in obvious competition with gusto on a Dogri dance and song and steep the audience into an untamed, full-blooded frolic.

***
‘Local Taxes Extra’- the opening play releases the first choking veil of curtains restricting the overenthusiastic actors waiting to showcase their talent for the Comedy Festival.

Written by Dr Sohan Lal Koul and directed by Ayash Arif of the Kalidas Theater Group, the play revolves on social issues facing a Kashmiri Pandit couple Bhushan Lal and Usha Rani who fall on the mercy of a quirky landlord out to take advantage of their plight in a series of hilarious situations wherein the servant Gash Ram too develops a taste for intrigues to create misunderstandings between the couple.

That the play in Kashmiri language sustains the attention of the State Governor, one known to have just a formal flavor of the Kashmiri language and constrained for time as dignitaries are wont to say for effect, speaks volumes about the histrionic prowess of the actors on stage. Of more significance, however, is a largely Kashmiri ‘Muslim’ audience glued to their seats watching the play with all Kashmiri Pandit characters. It seems to me, to be the true bearing or ‘icing’ of the lurking agony of separation of these two ethnic communities both of whom claim Kashmir as their rightful home and hearth.

It is this spirit of communal harmony and a composite culture that truly spells the values of the lush valley wherefrom many a Bollywood movie scripts have taken their first cues of unbridled love.

Kashmiri Pandits have been pushed, evacuated and left to fend for themselves due to hatred of alien mercenaries in cahoots with some local hawks and hardliners. Their Muslim brethren still hold them dear in unconditional love, that is what the attendance and attention at this Festival reinforces.
***

The Festival continues for the next ten days, bringing in fun and tears of joyous laughter. The themes revolve around overall corruption in high places and at the grassroots level. Even state run ‘Doordarshan’ is not spared to bring in guffaws while a play by tiny-tots takes the audiences to matchless taste of twists and turns in the ‘kiddy’ world.

Artistes include Bhands from Akingaam and Wathoora, the Akingaam Bhands’ group being in existence for many centuries, having been elaborately mentioned in Sir Walter Lawrence’s seminal book ‘The Valley of Kashmir’ (1895). As it began, the Festival ends with another hilarious tale revolving around a Kashmiri Pandit family. ‘Dastaar’, the play, has already become a part of the popular folklore of Kashmir with legendary actor Hriday Nath Gurtoo’s inimitable dialogue ‘Dastaaras karizam raachh’ –‘Protect My Turban’-albeit ‘Honour’; on the tip of everyone’s tongue.

That Gurtoo died in a miserable condition in a migrant camp in Udhampur soon after being forced to migrate from his happy dwellings in Kashmir, in the early 1990s, has in no way dimmed his creation but rather highlighted the plight of some of the ‘Jewels of Kashmir’ being ostracized from their beloved land and perishing in misery.

The Festival comes to an end, the armored vehicles and sharp shooters leave the venue, but it has successfully scattered the seeds of tangible merriment in the entire valley.

My eyes scan the picturesque landscape and rivulets flow down my cheeks, I feel a tug, as if a dear one says ‘Maty’e Rozu Dama Roz Dariyam Chany’e Lol Re’! ‘My love, stay a while longer’. However agony of separation from Kashmir is lesser than the wish that Almighty may shower His choicest blessings and cheer to this Land of the Gods.

In their forlorn imploration, asking me to return to the valley blooming with spring flowers ‘Rosh wala myani dilbaro, poshan bahaar aav, yoori walo’– I peer to look for smiles down from the window of the plane. The arc that begins at one mountain top and, after covering the flat valley, ends at another mountain top, seems like a broad smiley like smile. Today, even the sun has been veiled by clouds on the top to spread the huge glowing smiley that I look for in the crinkly as well as reddish lips of Kashmiris blessed with unsurpassed beauty and as I place my hand on my heart it leaps and cheers ‘Aall izzz well’!

*****
FIRST PUBLISHED IN KASHMIR TIMES MAGAZINE FRONT COVER ON JULY 10, 2011

The day OSAMA was killed ———— By Rashmi Talwar

With Due apologies to those who lost their near dear ones in 9/11

The day OSAMA was killed ————

By Rashmi Talwar

Noora as Osama in Tere Bin Laden played by Pradhuman Singh

May 2, 5.15 am- Twitter was bursting with news ‘Osama killed!’. The magnitude of ‘Op Geronimo’ in Abbotabad, Pakistan, flushing of the elusive ‘Osama bin laden’was all over cyber space. I slumped into my Shahtabdi Express seat, Mortified! Osama’s end, left me crestfallen. Not that I had any love lost for the ‘world’s most wanted’, but in his death, he had turned the tide against me.
At 4 am before departure to Delhi, It felt like a ‘shoot and scoot’ mission to procure visas for a 9-member ‘Amritsar Sacred Heart Alumni’, headed for its first International tie –up with a sister school –Sacred Heart School (SHS), Lahore, Pakistan. Now, it had turned into ‘ironic’ confetti via CIA’s stealth choppers.

Expletives adorned my tongue in unbridled measure as I muttered -Why was Osama killed in Pakistan? Tora Bora was only a few miles? Why not in hotter months when no one ventures to SA countries? I raved and ranted against this unfairness. Sparing hardly any thought for the lives, Osama had stilled and silenced in 9/11.

Shooing away, the swift waiter’s tray of tea-biscuits, I stuffed a tetra juice, garrisoning a back-pack for a formidable “D-day” at Pak embassy.
Two months of the hardest synchronization on this ‘tie-up’ had caused cramps in my grey cells and bodily tissues seemed to be on a cracking assignment. It was just a few ticks away, I moaned; Why Osama, of the entire ‘world’s dreaded’? God, if sinful Earth was heavy, why couldn’t it be, Hafiz Sayeed or Dawood Abrahim or any other now?

Nearing the journey’s end, I looked up and light dawned. Chalo! Doesn’t it make it easier to tell the group – ‘Osama killed, Visas rejected!’ I sighed purring a ‘Roger -Over and Out’ with a smile, ready to embark on a new self–styled ‘Op Chak De Fatte ’.

Baggage et al, I trooped down to a dhaba, outside Delhi station for a quick bite. A battle of grit and wits needs all strengths covered and fulfilled, I told myself. But soon another awakening donned ‘A stitch in Time saves Nine’. I rushed, even as the waiter held up my order, gave him a beggarly smile. ‘Urgent phone call’ ‘How much, I pay? I muttered. Strangely –He broke into a smile and saluted –App kamyaab hoyenge! In the auto-rikshaw to Embassy, I relished his comment, it added to my damage control plan Op CDF.

I was banking on a rock solid recommendation of a top-notch embassy officer’s wife that can be best explained as –‘Saari Khudai Ek taraf, Aur Jorru ka ‘Bhai’ ek taraf!

Geared with paraphernalia, landed at the embassy to see TV reporters sprawled all over, cramped above single rat-hole window. Heat, luggage and water-bottle in hand, I coursed through to the magic window. ‘NINE! Passports! Madam? Very difficult, Look at these TV crews.
I named someone, and was ushered in, while jotting details on 36 forms, someone asked for an application form, I handed him an extra one and surprisingly, got ‘chicken kathi rolls’ as return gift in a near famished state.

It was nearly 5 PM. Interview called! Interviewee shook his head –Apply now and visas in a month. ‘Does anyone go to Pak in scorching heat of June?’ I asked innocently. Bravely, took his number with Shooter Olympian’s words ringing – ‘It is not Over! Till its Over’. Next morning, Phone answered ‘Madam, bas aa jao’! I rushed, to find all 9 visas ready for Lahore- Nanakana Sahib. Faxed to MEA for foot visa and called the group. Everyone was expectedly –Shocked, dismayed anticipating the worst over post-Osama situation in Pak, till I announced to venture alone. Gradually, all nine pins rolled and we made it to Lahore, surprisingly on a date that read May ’9′, this year. Perhaps the waiter’s blessings Hit the Target Nine….. Just days later I learnt 340 visa of sikh jatha to Pakistan were rejected.

Amritsar’s grandson and Indian chef invited at White House…..

Amritsar’s grandson and Indian chef invited at White House

Shara Ashraf, in Hindustan Times

The White House will eat out of an Amritsar’s grandson and Indian chef’s cooking pot on July 29. India-born Vikas Khanna, who has also been voted New York’s hottest chef, has been invited to whip up some ‘spiritual food’ at the ‘Hindu American Seva Conference’ to be held at the US President’s home.
Khanna, who’s chef, writer, film maker and humanitarian, has chosen temple fare to present at the White House Dinner. “It is a great honor for my family, my city and my motherland India,” says the dishy chef who learnt cooking in his grandmother’s kitchen in Amritsar

Vikas Khanna -Grandson of Amritsar

.

About his choice of Iskon inspired food for the White House Dinner, he says, “I just released my second film- Karma to Nirvana, a part Holy Kitchens film series. The film focuses on sharing food in Hinduism, essentials of ‘Atithi Devo Bhavo’ -and life of Krishna.

Working in the ISKCON in New Delhi and serving free meals to children in schools made me realize the power and purity of temple food.” The chef plans to make a very simple meal for the dinner. “I have been asked several times in my career about the person I would love to cook for, my answer is always “Mahatma Gandhi”, so to keep that inspiration alive, I will be cooking a simple meal.
It will include Vada Pao from the streets of Mumbai, Sookhi Yellow Daal from ISKCON, Aloo Tamatar from the Langar at the Golden Temple, Amritsar Tawa Roti – to honor my grandmother Biji, who taught me how to cook and Seviyan – to honor Ramadan,” shares Khanna.

The chef grew up in Amritsar, started his own catering business at 17, graduated from Welcome-Group Graduate School of Hotel Administration, and trained with Taj, Oberoi, and Leela. He later went abroad to study at the Culinary Institute of America and Le Cordon Bleu, Paris. He has some great memories of Delhi. “The vibrancy of the food of Delhi is legendary. Paratha Wali Gali, Bengali market, Connaught Place, Street Vendors, – the simplicity of the foods have helped inspire my restaurants, events, books, foundations and lots more,” says the chef who’s favorite food is the Langar at the Golden Temple in his grandparent’s city of Amritsar. Given his looks and six-pack abs, you’re not surprised when he tells you he has lots of Hollywood directors coming to him with film offers. But Khanna is not very keen. “My kitchens are my stage”, he tells them with a smile.

Khanna has worked with the most celebrated chefs in New York and is also the recipient of Access to Freedom Award from SATH (The Society for Accessible Travel & Hospitality), that was also awarded to George W. Bush and Prince Charles.
His documentary series Holy Kitchens frame his journey to discover spiritual foods. He is also the founder of Sakiv foundation that supports relief efforts across the world. And does he plan to open any restaurant in India? “It will be a dream come true for my team and me,” he says.

“Bumbi Days”!…… by VIVEK MEHRA

Thank God this post did not reach the winters ..otherwise it would have been ‘Shivering Bumbissss”
Heritage conservator Balwinder Singh once quizzed me –‘What is Chaali Khoo?’-‘Forty wells!’ I answered. ‘What is Chaati khoo?’ I twinkled, smiled, knowing it had a catch, ‘You Say?’ –‘It is ‘a’ well with a ‘chaat’(roof)!’ , he laughed. ‘What is Bambe Walla Khoo?’ –‘This has to do with robust Male gender of ‘Bumbi’-I replied. As the day’s banter on Heritage buildings and stories of yore connected to Amritsar saw a free flow,
I was reminded of a beautiful post ‘Bumbi Days! , written by Vivek Mehra. …………….

“BUMBI” DAYS !……………..By VIVEK MEHRA

When ever I meet my cousins, these days, whether electronically or physically, the conversation invariably veers to our ‘Bumbi’ days, sooner or later, and more so if they are a few drinks down. The truth however is, that be it guys or dolls, all of them are hopelessly nostalgic about those days.

They post sepia tinged ‘Bumbi’ pictures on face book and get a lot of ‘wows’ from our kin, now spread all over the world. They love to take, an almost vicarious pleasure, as they recount, with a child like delight, countless stories about those days; much to the utter mystification of their kids and spouses. These relations came much after the ‘Bumbi’ days were over, so they wonder, with justification, “What the hell is this Bumbi?”

Any body who knows Punjabi language would tell you that a ‘Bumbi’ is a Punjabi name for a tube well. You would find one in every farm in rural Punjab, gushing out a thick stream of pristine, crystal clear, silvery water from its gaping mouth.

Our Bumbi was different!

Yes, it too was a tube well and yes, it too was located in a huge agricultural farm, but that is where the similarity ends.

Back in the 1970’s it was a heaven, a paradise on earth.

First, it gave its huge stream of fresh water not to the fields but into a good sized swimming pool, that was our very own! But it was even more than that. Much more.

Back then, it meant a place where more than a score cousins, uncles and aunts spent their summer holidays, together without any of the petty, selfish, jealousies that plague us today. They traveled from all over India to be there. Every year, they preferred Amritsar to any hill station or any other holiday destination.

From Nagpur , Delhi, Bombay (yes not Mumbai) Moradabad, Kanpur . As each group unboarded from their train, the buzz was always, “Man! I am going to the Bumbi tomorrow morning. And every day after, for the next month and a half!”

‘Bumbi’ was Joy with a capital J. Pure and unadulterated. It was unlimited fun without the aid of a single gizmo of today, be it a television or a mobile or an iPad or what ever. It was youth as youth should be, without a care in the world.

The school bags along with their burdens were thrust aside, forever, after the usual inquires “How did you fare?” “Well I flunked Marathi even after the exam paper was leaked to me!” “Shucks! Same here yaar, with me, for Math!” and that was the end of such boring conversations for the next six weeks or so at least.

During the early day time, Bumbi was the ultimate all males only club. Outsiders were also welcome to come and enjoy their mornings there. The family’s ladies were allowed only in the afternoons after the outsiders had left the place and the gates were closed.

Bumbi ! Bumbi ! Bumbi ! All the way

For the boys, Bumbi meant getting up early in the morning and drinking piping, hot milk, from the udders of our own cows, duly supervised by a strict aunt who ensured that every one finished his tall, steel glass. A future doctor to bew, would however, usually hoodwink her, and surreptitiously pour his share into the glass of any cousin who was not looking.

The dirty dozen or so would then stuff themselves into an Ambassador and off they
would go, yelling and jostling and happy, all of them in one car , piled on top of each other. Talk about public transport!

Bumbi meant an effeminate ‘Gawala’ (Cowhand) and his grossly overweight wife who were care takers of the place. The kids would love to tease him and whoop in delight as he chased them.

Bumbi meant applying a lot of mustard oil to your bodies and wrestling in the mud ‘Akhara.’ It also meant Channi, a rather dimwitted sardar, who worked on his immensely muscular body all day, but never a minute on his brains. The rowdy crowd loved to rag him as he showed them his ‘body.’

Bumbi meant a “Dilruba Dilli Wali’ a male cousin, so fair of skin, that a mere touch would leave angry red marks on it. It also meant being treated to a cabaret dance by another cousin, full adorned in flowing skirts. I dare say he got more cat calls and wolf whistles then any ‘Munni’ or ‘Sheela.’

Bumbi meant bathing all day in that lovely pool of cool water, shaded by huge trees. It meant planning to dunk the girls in it when they were allowed to join us and hear them shriek in fear. It meant laughter unlimited. It also meant an infinite number of mangoes and pakoras and rich Amritsari food in pure desi ghee, when the aunts too joined us. I am sure no one had heard of diabetes, BP and obesity back then.

It meant raiding the cupboard of our grand dad and finishing off all his eatables in one go, only to find it fully replenished the next days and never ever being ticked off for it. It meant being given hundred rupee notes to spend at the local cinemas and eateries almost everyday. It meant being told at a cinema booking window, that they could not sell two dozen tickets to a single buyer as he would ‘black’ them. It meant that the ticket vendor was shown all the two dozen lined up in their best finery, eagerly awaiting the show to start.

It meant crying at the railway platforms as each group went back, promising to come back next year. It meant awaiting all year for the summer holidays to bring them back. Do you still wonder, what the hell is “Bumbi ?”

‘RAUNAK’ of our The Tribune office in Amritsar cuts his first Punjabi Number ..Chak De Fatte !!! Buraaaaaaaaa for u !!

By Saanjh ———-
Rajiv Sharma @ Raj Asr is v dear to me …’Raunak and Shaan of our Tribune office in Amritsar . The one who made our days in the office most Glorious with his antics, jokes, his mimicry and songs …Anytime the Senior was away, it became the most enjoyable laughter sessions–BIG SHOWTIME by this talented Youngster working as photographer.
I also remember the time wen i was scolded and he would stand near me as if in moral support ….I treated him as a son and often told him, he needs to fulfill his full potential ….N Now HE IS STAFFER FOR STAR TV …But he has fulfilled My dream for him ..His first attempt is wonderful and I Heartily Congratulate u RAJIV …..MY V BEST FOR U TO GO FURTHER ON THIS IN LIFE …Love ur Number !!! Chak De Fatte !!! Buraaaaaaaaa for u !!

History of Indian Academy of Fine Arts-Amritsar/Galleries losing interest /

BY SAANJH

ESTABLISHED in 1928 by Master Gurdit Singh and his friends, Indian Academy of Fine Arts , Amritsar, acquired its present status by dedicated pursuit of S G Thakur Singh, who went all the way to Bengal to master wash technique and later became a scene painter in the nascent Bombay film industry. He retuned to Amritsar with name and fame and dedicated his life to promotion of art. It was due to the efforts of Thakur and few other like- minded artists that the government gave 4000 square feet land for the gallery in 1958, for which foundation stone was laid by Dr Rajendra Prasad, the first president of India. Kartar Singh Duggal gave Rs 17.5 lac to the gallery for the air conditioning of the gallery and the auditorium.

Since 1928, every year IAFA has been holding national art shows, barring 1947, when show could not be held due to partition. The prestigious gallery has got into an ugly controversy due to alleged unlawful constitutional amendments by a few self- proclaimed office bearers, who are neither artist not have any love for art. These office bearers, allege the artist community, are realtors and brick kiln owners, who are trying to amend the constitution to own the space which is a prime property. The artist community from the entire country is flabbergasted, as the cultural space, created with the help of the government for the purpose of art alone is being used by the office bearers of political affiliation for commercial activities. The artist community is up in arms against this blatant show of disregard by a few for artists and art in a state which is as such in dire need of more such facilities.

The missing galleries of art
Punjab has given many great artists to the world of art, but, opportunities for the growth of art remain abysmally poor in the state. Of the two existing art galleries in the state, one is mired in controversies.

BY Vandana Shukla

PUNJAB has given one of the most celebrated artists to the world of visual art- from Amrita Sher-Gil, Manjit Bawa, Arpana Caur, Paramjit Singh, to T&T ( Thukral and Tagra) and Vibha Galhotra. The artistic journey of these artists has made an impact in shaping new trends in the art world, which resulted in receiving global appreciation for their works. Unfortunately, in their own state, they hardly ever had a chance to showcase their talent, receiving laurels is a far- fetched proposition. Reason, the state does not have galleries and other infrastructure that can cater to dynamic needs of art world, which is evolving and growing beyond the bounds of available resources. As a result, artists migrate from the state to other places to grow.

“The state continues to provide great artistic talent to the country and the world but it fails to grow appreciation for art for lack of infrastructure,” says Rahi Mahinder Singh, secretary, Punjab Lalit Kala Akademi.

The continued migration of artists comes as a greater surprise, since, one of the first ever galleries that opened in the country, was, Indian Academy of Fine Arts at Amritsar. The state body of art, Punjab Arts Council, does not have a budget allocation worth mention. NZCC ( North Zone Cultural Centre) , another body that is supposed to cater to needs of art, flip flops, depending upon the efforts of the head of the organisation, especially when it comes to promotion of visual art. At Kalagram, Mani Majra, the ambitious project of NZCC, a corridor was converted into an art gallery, which was in fact, an apology of a gallery, where upcoming artists could exhibit their works. Even this facility was closed, further reducing availability of space for exhibitions. Virsa Vihars was another effort initiated by the state government for the purpose, but, there too exhibitions are held only with collaborations. At Jalandhar, Apeejay College of Art has turned Virsa Vihar, Jalandhar, into Satya Paul Virsa Vihar Art Gallery. At Bhatinda, Kapurthala, and Patiala, Virsa Vihars are still waiting to take off. After closure of NZCC gallery at Sheesh Mahal, Patiala, one more option to showcase works for budding artists is closed, in the almost non- existent private gallery scenario in Punjab. Punjabi University, Patiala, which runs a successful master’s programme in Fine Arts, had a gallery and museum attached to the department to promote talent of its students. Due to some bureaucratic decision, the gallery and museum were separated three years back. Now, the gallery in- charge has to take permission from the vice chancellor, instead of a panel of artists- as is the norm, if an artist wants to hold a show.

Artists need exhibitions, without a critique, their art cannot grow. If one excludes Chandigarh, which has a sizeable number of good galleries, barring just two galleries worth mention, there is no other place in Punjab where adequate facilities are provided at a good location to showcase works in a professional manner. Many senior artists, who hail from different towns of Punjab, and have shown works across the country, lament the lack of facilities, which, newly emerging towns like Gurgaon have aplenty in places like EPI Centre and Art Mart. The state is untouched by the way markets and styles have undergone transformation in the absence of professionally managed art activity. There is hardly any interaction with evolved viewers for the artist. It is a catch- 22 situation, artists do not grow for the same reasons that fail to provide discerning viewers of art.

Admitting apathy of the government bodies, Rahi Mohinder Singh adds that it is primarily work of the Akademis to organise seminars, shows, talks etc to support growth of art in the state. Unfortunately, Punjab Arts Council depends on office bearers to extract money from the government, which, till date has no fixed budget allocation for arts.

Another problem is attached to practising artists who have decided not to grow beyond realism and copy work in the name of art. People open galleries in Ludhiana and Jalandhar with fanfare, galleries last till the space is rented out to a more lucrative offer. The kind of commitment art requires has somehow failed to grow, as a result those who wish to pursue art, migrate to Delhi or Mumbai. In the past Ludhiana has seen opening and closing of Tag gallery, Artmosphere and few others. If you compare the scenario with Jahangeer Art Gallery, Mumbai, where waiting list runs into years, galleries don’t even hold shows on a regular basis, which explains apathy to art in the state.

Usually artists migrate from small towns in Punjab to Chandigarh, where their journey begins, then, they move on to bigger cities to grow. Art cannot grow without a journey, true, but like MNCs art must not grow in metros alone. And, this can happen with facilities made available, as has happened in smaller towns like Jaipur, Pune and Bhopal.

AMRITSAR – Anna Hazare’s turning point/ By Lt Gen Baljit Singh (Retd)

Seem Eons past, a seasoned journalist of AMRITSAR told me that Amritsar has an uncanny distinction!—‘You will notice that Any significant event in the world somewhere has an incredulous connection with Amritsar”. Strange as it may sound his words are evolving to be prophetic and I am slowly starting to believe this gentleman.
I came across this write up –“Soldiering for village uplift”, a first hand account of Naik Anna Hazare by Lieut-Gen Baljit Singh (retd) published as ‘middle’ in The Tribune, recently.

Soldiering for village uplift
by Lieut-Gen Baljit Singh (retd)

HIS demeanor and emphatic, measured speech have not changed a whit since I first and last met him in 1989. The men I once commanded were from the Pune-Sattara-Ratnagiri region and in moments of informal interaction they would often talk of Anna “Sahib” who had led his village from dire poverty to assured prosperity.

Traditionally, soldiers reserve the “Sahib” appellation for their officers and JCOs only; so who was Anna? Well, he was one of the several thousand vehicle drivers of the Indian army. During the 1965 Indo-Pak war he had a close call with death. His was one of the 15-odd lorries ferrying ammunition in the Amritsar sector when this convoy was strafed by PAF Saber-jets.

All the lorries exploded, except Naik Anna Hazare’s. When he regained composure, he had a divine vision; “Bhagwan boley too ja, apney gaon ki seva kar”. And over the next two decades, village Raleagan Siddhi became the beneficiary of “faith moving mountains”.

Short of outright deifying him, his ideas and guidance were accepted by Raleagan citizens as “Dharma”. The women of the village emerged unconditionally empowered and enjoyed vis-à-vis their menfolk the Orwellian status: “All animals are equal but some are more equal than the others!” No more pregnancies after the second child and freedom to acquire skills both in aid of the community and their households.

Land holdings were miniscule but the collective agricultural output increased phenomenally because rain-fed cultivation was replaced by assured, well-water irrigation. Consumption of alcohol was ruthlessly rooted out and with the combined, energized labour force, open wells were dug and a water-usage roster was drawn for each family based on their acreage under tillage.

Every house became a brick and concrete structure with piped drinking water and cooking gas from two community sized, bio-gas plants, at fixed times. Community toilets were clustered around the bio-gas plants, the human faces supplementing its “gobar” feed-stock. Kitchen waste was dumped into community compost-pits.

Anna Sahib was able to convince the Houses of Tata and Kirloskar of the viability of his mission and obtain interest-free loans as also irrigation lift-pumps and diesel generators at concessional rates. Loan instalments were honoured post the Kharif and Rabbi harvests; the last being in 1986 !

Onions and pulses were the main cash crops. In 1986, the produce earned close to a whopping 2.5 lakh rupees. A Cooperative Gramin Bank was created and staffed exclusively by the Raleagan women. Each family had fixed deposits of five to thirty thousand rupees by 1989.

I cannot recall how the school was funded but free and compulsory education was provided to each child up to matriculation. At least two able-bodied youth enrolled in the Army each year.

I shared this experience with the late General B C Joshi and suggested that the Army ran an orientation course, for soldiers about to retire under Anna Hazare’s aegis. The General visited Raleagan and launched the initiative with the hope that many more soldiers would replicate the Raleagan template in their villages.

Media ‘Jugaad’- Telex to Twitter…SWAM (South Asian Women in Media)….By Rashmi Talwar

Media ‘Jugaad’- Telex to Twitter
By Rashmi Talwar

Two essential tools carried by a reporter- are a ‘nose-for-news’ and ‘Jugaad’- the quick-fix cleverness- the ‘mantra’ behind a great story or visual. Hence it was no surprise when women mediapersons attention was grabbed by ‘Telex to Twitter’ journey that changed ways of news gathering and threw open a novelty of routes with publics and where ‘Jugaad ’frequently played centre-stage .

(Barkha Dutt) A Popular figure on TV and Managing Director NDTV, used ‘Jugaad’ during the unfolding events in Egypt recently via a flip-phone using 3-G services and got a complete stream of the uprise, using ‘skype’ after their cameras and transmission equipment were confiscated by jittery officialdom, as it was seen to embolden the protestors.
In contrast, she relates to time when Abdul Ghani lone was assassinated in Kashmir- and not a phone nearby to report. Another ‘jugaad’ during Kargil conflict when video-tapes were handed to chopper pilots for delivery. Technology indeed has brought a revolution in every strata of news. She was recently addressing women mediapersons at the ‘South Asian Women in Media’ (SAWM) Regional Conference, India Chapter, in Delhi.
Electronic media doubtlessly faces more challenges, though ‘jugaad’ by print media is no less significant in situations risky or requiring presence of mind. At times, a prompt rejoinder or catchword can turn advantageous. A mere ‘yes’ or ‘no’ or ‘blank’ or ‘absence’ can draw a full fledged report.

However, mention of ‘Wikileaks’ made heads turn. (Siddharth Varadarajan ) The RE ‘The Hindu’ elucidated – the Breaking news- ‘MP Shopping’- Rocking Parliament, the connection with the ‘Virtual Internet Tsunami’ –Wikileaks. ‘The cables arrived in top-secrecy from London, uploaded using multi-passwords, studied, vetted before the dark lettering in print’. ‘Yes! We were figuratively labeled, even accused of ‘prurient’ interests for publishing this story’, he admitted and laughed and boomed ‘Journalism is eventually about ‘Power of media’ to take on the powerful’.

Ambika Soni as Chief Guest hailed women journalists as having touched cords and changed the way stories are told, “Stretching Frontiers”. Taking umbrage to gender bias she noted ‘Surely!’-‘it was crucial to sensitize both men and women to problems of women journos’ -We can’t shake hands with clenched fists’

Sunita Aron, RE HT drew nods when she related about covering dacoits, 25-yrs back. ‘Of the two rifled cops accompanying me, one of them asked ‘Are there no men in your office?’

While Shravan Garg Editor Dainik Bhaskar, admitted that women got hired in some papers only to cover women’s issues, the gender bias came to rule an audience that was genuinely perturbed over issues of equal pay, opportunity and maternity leave. All nodded in unison at the pointer that many incidents amounting to sexual harassment of reporters go unreported, because of strong urge not to be cowed down by demented men or self imposed ‘conspiracy of silence’ for being seen as ‘not’ tough enough.

However, it was the comment at the end of keynote address by Patricia Mukhim Editor, The Shillong Times, who called for a ‘break in the glass ceiling in a Ghetto of Patriarchy’ and at the same time censured those who have ‘slept their ways through’.
Sadly, despite Top Editors participation from media houses, not one had a ‘Jugaad’ to bring changes’ in their own establishment for women in media. …..

Let’s Riot with Colors….. BY ILMANA FASIH

This beautiful thought was penned by Ilmana Fasih ..I came across it on a FB page ‘Indo-Pak Peace Media’ …A write up with childlike innocence plays on ‘colors for construction’ …the scene therein of a fairytale where weapons of mass destruction are assigned a task unknown to them–of bringing smiles, happiness and glee in the lives of mortals who sing and dance to banish away the devils of destruction …Saanjh..
“Let’s Riot with Colors…”

BY ILMANA FASIH

I seriously think
We should develop
A bomb of crayons
As our next weapon-
Of mass ‘construction’.
A color bomb,
A beauty bomb.
Launched from -
- A happiness jet
-Or a unity tank.
As a peace missile.
And every time,
a crisis developed,
we would drop one.
It would explode
High in the air
- Explode softly
- and send hundreds
or thousands,
even millions,
of little parachutes
of colors, colors, colors
Floating down to earth
with splashes of colors
rioting into the air.
And we wouldn’t go cheap,
- not little boxes of eight.
Boxes of sixty-four,
maybe hundreds
with the sharpener built-in.
With silver and gold and copper,
magenta and peach and lime,
amber and umber and all the rest.
And cover the world with
colors and imagination.
And people would smile,
laugh, giggle and go hysterical.
Get funny look on their faces
twinkle in their tearful eyes.
Hope embedded in their dimples,
Peace sparkling from their teeth
And all one could have
Is hope and happiness.
As far as eyes could see.
With musical instruments
of peace and unity
playing in the background,
the music borne of them,
rocking in ecstasy and
dancing with the colors,
Until the dawn of ‘sanity’
Awakens this asinine,
‘sleeping’ mankind.
( Inspired by HOLI–the festival of colors, and with some colors stolen from it, & from a quote by Robert Fulghum, with some words taken from it).

Pak’s ETPB to name office building after Shaheed Bhagat Singh

Pak’s ETPB to name office building after Bhagat Singh…Daily Times

LAHORE: Pakistan’s Evacuee Trust Property Board (ETPB) chairman Asif Hashmi announced naming the ETPB office building after Shaheed Bhagat Singh and demanded the Punjab government to rename the ‘Shadman Chowk ‘after the legendary hero. Hashmi informed Daily Times of this after he visited a candle light vigil organised by the Institute for Peace and Secular Studies and other progressive organisations at the Shadman Square . Institute for Peace and Secular Studies (IPSS) Chairperson Saeeda Diep had given applications to the Punjab and local governments demanding renaming of Shadman Chowk after Bhagat Singh, and Hashmi seconded this demand.

Street play, demonstration remember Bhagat Singh

LAHORE: Scores of passers-by joined civil society activists in watching ‘Chipen Ton Pehlan’ staged near Shadman Chowk on Wednesday in connection with the 79th anniversary of Bhagat Singh’s martyrdom.....Dawn News ..

Shadman-chowk-lahore where Shaheed Bhagat Singh was hanged along with Rajguru and Sukhdev popularly known as ‘fawara chowk’

Written by Davinder Daman and directed by Huma Safdar, the one-hour street play was arranged by Punjab Lok Rahs.

Reviving the old tradition of Nukar Theatre, the play portrayed Bhagat Singh’s struggle against British imperialism.

The cast included Punjab University Mass Communication Department students Hammad Afzal (Bhagat Singh), Adil Aziz (Boga sweeper), Adnan (advocate Pran Nath Metha) Mohsin Ali Danish (jailer Akbar Khan), Tayyab and Akmal (jail officials) while Sobia Zaidi and Huma Safdar performed choreography.

At nearby Shadman Chowk roundabout, civil society activists held a demonstration under the umbrella of Institute for Peace and Secular Studies.

Carrying placards, the demonstrators joined by Labour Party Pakistan activists demanded that the Shadman Chowk be renamed after Bhagat Singh who was hanged there on March 23, 1931. They also raised slogans like `Inqilab Zindabad,’ Bhagat Teray Khoon Se Inqilab Aaey Ga,’ and ‘Amriki, Arab Samraj Murdabad’.

They also informed Evacuee Trust Property Board Chairman Syed Asif Hashmi that the Punjab government had been approached in 2001 that Bhagat Singh should be recognised as one of the heroes of independence movement and Shadman Chowk be renamed after him, but no action was taken.

Mr Hashmi assured the demonstrators that he would take up the matter with federal and Punjab governments. He said that a block in the ETPB offices would be named after Bhagat Singh on Thursday.

The ETPB would also give award to a Sikh on the occasion of Baisakhi every year who would have contributed to the cause of independence.

Also, the Punjabi Language Movement observed the death anniversary of Bhagat Singh at its Shama Chowk office on Wednesday.

Movement convener Chaudhry Nazeer Kahut said the Quaid-i-Azam made no secret of his sympathies for Bhagat Singh and other freedom fighters in the Lahore prison.

“Jinnah sahib in his speech in the Central Assembly on Sept 12, 1929, said `the man who goes on hunger strike has a soul. He is no ordinary criminal, who is guilty of cold blooded, sordid wicked crime’.

“It is clear that Jinnah Sahib considered Bhagat Singh, Rajguru and Sukhdev freedom fighters. If the father of the nation admires a freedom fighter, how can we ignore him? Why not Serdar Bhagat Singh be declared the hero of independence movement in our history and text books?

“After partition of Punjab, creation of Pakistan and freedom of India, where do Punjab’s heroes of independence movement like Rai Ahmed Khan Kharral and Bhagat Singh stand? Why discriminate Bhagat Singh and other Punjab’s heroes of independence?” asked Kahut.

Allama Iqbal was Bhagat Singh’s favourite revolutionary poet. It was Maulana Zaffar Ali Khan who for the first time floated the title of Shaheed for Bhagat Singh.

Bhagat Singh was hanged in Lahore. He demanded that a statute of Bhagat be installed there and the Qadahfi Stadium also be renamed after him.

“if i were a flower..” By Sukhmani Sadana

Sukhmani Sadana, is one I fell in love with as soon as she was born … and yet I had to discover this side of hers to actually feel a new kinda bonding , a feeling of ends of a circle touching again.
Today Amritsar born Sukhmani can be seen on television as a debut actress with a Yash Raj show ‘Khoote Sikkey’ serial on fri-sat sony 11pm, a scriptwriter with Ogilvy & Mather having written screenplay for two prime time MTV shows.. ..Modelled for some products too . Indisputably, She is a Beauty and surely God has made her in his carefree leisure ! More beauty lies in her poem that is fresh and creates a surreal picture of story of Birds, Bees N Flowers, wither she entwines herself and her life in queer twists and turns. Sample this beautifully woven emotion ………’I am stung. I bleed my colours and drop my petals’.

“if i were a flower..”

By Sukhmani Sadana

A bee humming around me,
Makes me smile with its company.
It fills the void each flower is born with,
Spaces and purrs, its smitten by me.

A tap and a step back, a whiff and reverse,
It’s puzzled, yet baffled by me.
I stand uptight, in conflict to the wind,
The wind that’s like a blustery airstream today.
Does it mean to suggest a sign?
Well! I persistent with my pal- my bee,
Taking pleasure in this fixture.
We grow in this bustle each day,
With our liking only swelling,
Till one day, 2 bees from another tree,
Come buzzing along my way.

My shades, aroma or frailty,
I know not what magnetizes them?
But surely the sweetness is something i don’t mind.
They glance at me with esteem and love,
But a look of repulsion for the another.
I know not who- to let settle on me, for their daily nectar feed.

As seasons change and i begin to flourish,
The blossom is enchanting.
I let the current swing me by,
Like a flame struggling a rebellious blowing.
From a garden of a another street,
Comes yet another bee,
This time distressing..all the other 3.

I take their interest and give my nectar in return,
We feed our lives in a self seeking manner,
With as much integrity as it can be.
But this bitterness between them,
Will have to be endured by me.

I sense this pride of possession,
Turning slowly into hostility,
And then on a warm afternoon, while this buzzing is making my roots feeble,
I predict my soil loosening on me.
This day settles on surprising me,
Where one of them, beyond sympathetic borders,
Not eager no more to take this crowd,
Over a flower he thought was his belonging.
So he chooses to make this patch of ground,
Miss a once breathing bloom.

I am stung. I bleed my colours and drop my petals.
As life for me just began to search its end.
Before i drop and wither, i gaze at my loving bees
And wonder which one would miss me the least??