Parichay - Chetan Bhadricha

2008-09-01T22:44:00.000-07:00

Shraddha, Seva, Saburi .. or the lack of it ..

"Shree Satchit-ananda Sat-guru Sainath Maharaj ki jay" resonated through the air as I added myself to the long human queue which kept growing like Hanuman's tail, with each one there with a sole purpose in mind, getting Baba's blessings. Shirdi over the past century has attracted more and more believers of divinity towards it making it one of the most visited pilgrimage places in India. Sai Baba, the saint or an incarnation of the Lord, whatever you may want to call him, lived a life that championed 3 principles - Shraddha (Faith), Seva (Service), Saburi (Patience). These were the basic ideals that had me calling to Baba's Darbar.

As I entered the temple with a devout mind and a countenance filled with serenity, I was greeted with a television showing live pictures of the devotees worshiping Baba and the priests assisting them. These priests lacked even an iota of faith on their faces. It wasn't worship for them, just "work"ship. "Shraddha" for once seemed to have given up on "Maya".

Seva or Service is what Baba epitomized in his divine existence. He spent his life by being a servant of humanity. Feeding poor people, cleaning streets was his way of life. But none of his devotees seemed to have taken a heed to this. The place outside the Temple premises is full of litter and waste thrown by the same devotees. It just prompts me to modify an age old adage to "Cleanliness is just inside Godliness".

Saburi or Patience is what made some people Baba's greatest devotees. An ideal that seems to be have being long forgotten. The queue heading towards Baba seemed to follow no rules. The strength at which you could push determined how fast you reached Baba.

Whatever I wrote above may sound cliched and habituated to many people. But it is something that has created a disinclination in me to visit these "commercialised" Temples and to better realize divinity in the comforts and silence of my room reinstating my belief in the Ishopanishad which says,

Ishavasyam idam sarvam yat kinca jagatyam jagat

(within this entire universe, all the animate and inanimate are pervaded by the Lord, are the statement of the Lord)

The irony of the situation is that people worship and live by Baba's "idols" rather than His "ideals". A problem which is common to many a great personalities of the past. Gautam Buddha asked his followers not to worship anyone and his followers started worshiping him. Swami Vivekananda asked his disciples not to accept any statement as true until you verify it for yourself and his followers accept him as the final authority on everything. If only people could understand simple things these great people lived and died for, most of the problems of the world would be solved. We all would have being more "humans" than just "beings". What I came to Shirdi was for was Shraddha (Fatih), Seva (Service), Saburi (Patience) and what I saw was just a lack of these.

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Chetan Bhadricha

2006-05-22T07:02:00.000-07:00

Adhyayan Vatika (The Study Garden)

Amidst the concrete jungles of South Mumbai, is an island of greenery known as S. K. Patil Udyan which harbours this monument in one of it’s lost corners. Simple in architecture, but uncomparable in utility, this scanty corner has seen many a careers take shape, not to mention, also mine.

Formally known as the “Adhyayan Vatika", but colloquially as “Study Corner”, this octagonal shaped, wall-less structure with a few chinks in its roof, was built by a local politician some 26 years ago as a virtue out of necessity (as politicians always do to gather votes). Comfortably sitting in one of the corners of this ‘grand’ structure, on a higher pedestal is a statue of ‘Saraswati Maa’ (Goddess of Knowledge as per Hindu Literature), as if monitoring the work of each of the ‘jnanayogis’ (pursuant of knowlege) sitting there. It under her transcendental supervision that these pursuing dilettantes traverse their journey to virtuosity.

Another marked feature of this ‘jnanabhoomi’ (land of knowledge) is its Indian-ness. It is diversity personified pursuing a unified goal. It has seen students of all castes and creeds. It’s alumni list encompasses all faculties of engineering, all organs of doctors, all denominations of Chartered Accountants and Company Secretaries, all sections of lawyers, all compositions of graduate students and not to forget all classes of school children. Such is the diversity of this ‘down to earth’ place that even the best of universities will envy it.

If there is any place where the ideals of Rabindranath Tagore’s “Shanti Niketan” are followed religiously, then it’s “Adhyayan Vatika”. It’s normally under the natural tent of trees, on the lush green carpet of grass coated with sparkles of dew and with the background music of chirping birds that this “Saraswati Aradhana” takes place. Though benches and chairs are available, they seen far too sophisticated.

This place serves as the only ray of hope for the students of the lower and middle class families living in chawls of Girgaon. The chawl system with all its peculiarities and advantages brings with it cramped houses and a commotion filled ambience making studying nearly impossible. This is where “Adhyayan Vatika” comes to the rescue. Dr. Babasaheb Ambedkar would have been surely happy to see this, as he wouldn’t have had to go through the pain of night study in his chawl had this ‘jnanabhoomi’ existed then. Another marked feature of this ‘novel’ utility is the ‘student-cum-teacher’ status of each of its participants. Knowledge here propagates in the same disciplic tradition as the Vedas and Bhagwad–Gita did for thousands of years. Whatever is received from a guru (senior) is passed onto the shishya (junior) and thus the flow of knowledge (notes and books) continues. Such has been the influence of this tradition that it has discouraged classes and tuitions in many a student here (many of whom cannot even afford it).

Just as a final touch, something where this institution stands apart from other educational institutions in India, is that it is open to all, admits everyone who wishes to come and does not have any government imposed Reservations. So just as an advice to our leaders supporting Reservations in IITs and IIMs, let us start building more “Adhyayan Vatikas” in India. Lets build places for students of all strata to come together, learn together ad live together. I don’t know how well these solutions work on paper except that I have seen generations of doctors, engineers Chartered Accountants and what not being churned out from here. It’s just a visit to this place that is required to understand what our forefathers meant when they said …

Sa Vidya ya Vimuktaye
(Salvation Through Knowlege)

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Chetan Bhadricha

2006-04-26T04:44:00.000-07:00

कैसे कहुँ आज मैं, मेरा भारत महान

मेरा भारत महान ,
मेरा भारत महान ,
जो बोलते थकती नहीं ज़ुबान ,
क्या सच में हुआ उत्थान ,
या हुआ काग़जी काम ,
और कहते रह गए हम ,
मेरा भारत महान ,
मेरा भारत महान |

कैसे कहुँ आज मैं, मेरा भारत महान ,
हर चौराहें लुटा जहाँ, द्रौपदी का मान ,
हर कोई आज भी ,िहंदु या मुसलमान ,
ना मंिदरों का आदर , ना मस्िजदों की शान ,
हर गरीब के खून से बनते, बंगले आिलशान ,
राष्ट्रभाषी आज भी, कहलाता मूर्ख महान ,
धर्म, सत्य, अिहंसा, जहाँ सजातें िसर्फ िदवार ,
भगत, सुभाष भी पुजे जाते, साल में िसर्फ एक बार ,
सच्चाई जहाँ नत्मस्तक हो, लगाती िसर्फ गुहार ,
राम कैद पडे मंिदर में, रावण करते िवहार ,
कृष्ण वाणी सुननें को, कहाँ कर्मयोगी पार्थ ,
ना गुरू, ना िशष्य, बना िशक्षा एक व्यापार ,
कैसे कहुँ आज मैं, मेरा भारत महान ,
कैसे कहुँ आज मैं, मेरा भारत महान |

-- चेतन भादरीचा

2006-04-07T04:11:00.000-07:00

LEAP BEYOND LEPROSY

My heart was still gripped in the thoughts of "Ashadhaan” when the “karmavataar” called me to see another face of reality. The destination this time was a Leprosy Hospital. More than the hospital, it was the location that was keeping me puzzled. The place was addressed, ‘Opposite to the back gate of VJTI’. I had spent four years of my life as an engineering student at VJTI. I knew every good restaurant and cinema house in its vicinity but was never aware of such a hospital until today. This thought pricked the innermost chord of my conscience which was castigating me trying to wake my humanity from its slumber.

Finally, I did manage to locate it and went in. It was in sharp contrast to the sophistications outside. It seemed like a small village contained in itself with all its serenity though there was an air of seriousness around having known that it was a Leprosy Hospital. As soon as I entered, I could see the “karmavataar” already there in his spotless white attire and a ‘forever’ young smile.

With everything ready, we started our journey to serve food to the 7 wards of the hospital with around 180 patients. As I was serving food, I noticed that almost all of the patients were elders discarded by their families. Every eye told me just one story. For them, more then the agony of dying is the fear of living. Though the want for food was always there, but the hunger for affection was far more. What they craved for was a gentle smile.

During my journey, I came across a person whose both legs had been consumed by the disease. I asked him, “Baba, for how long have you been here? Do you have no one?” With a crying voice he replied, “35 years”. He had not seen anything outside the confines of the hospital for the last 35 years, He had a family living in Nanded which visited him once a year. But the visit was always filled with complaints rather than affection. I could hear no more. He greeted me with a ‘crooked’ Namaskar as I bid adieu.

When everything was done, I could not help thinking the disparity in nature. For the first time, I started doubting the justice of “Law of Karma” (explained in Shrimad Bhagwad Gita). I tried a lot but was unable to forgive myself. I had always grumbled that I got too little for all the efforts that I had taken. For the first time, I realized how generous Lord had been to me. While these thoughts were still rolling, my eyes again fell on the “karmavataar”. Just then I remembered a small shloka(verse), I had read in a book by Sudha Murti,

“Shateshu Jayate shoor, sahastreshu panditaa,
Vaakta das sahastreshu, daata bhavati Va Na Va”
(A courageous person is one in a hundred, a scholar one in a thousand,
a good orator one in ten thousand, but a philanthropist may or may not be born.)

How true this ancient wisdom was in the current scenario. My thoughts started rolling again and I thought, ‘Just as we have broken our shackles from the so called “orthodoxy” in our lives, its time we do it once again and prove wrong the above 'shloka’

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Chetan Bhadricha

2006-04-04T06:00:00.000-07:00

BORN ON PHOOL’S* DAY
(*PHOOL means a flower in many Indian Languages)

Or should I say “Reborn on phool’s day”. The wrinkles on his face are an outcome of the artistry fostered through an entire era of service. Every gray hair has been painted in the dye of experience. Short in height but insurmountable in stature, such is the appearance of a living legend called “Ramniklal Gosalia”, about whom a few but know. This Fool’s day he fooled destiny once more not through treachery but through service as he turned 80 years ‘young’.

April Fool’s day is a day to enjoy some practical joke on your friends and family and this young heart is no different. This ‘karmavataar’ has year after year fooled all his friends and near one’s shattering dreams of the lavish birthday parties, which have become synonymous with flirting and drinking and taken them for human service.

His destination for celebration is a bit different. It’s a small place called “Ashadhaan”, started by Mother Teresa. His birthday begins with a large family of more than 350 people encompassing everyone from abandoned and retarded children with innocent tears, withdrawn HIV patients to aged contemporaries who were once pillars of this strong building called ‘society’, but have now been deemed unfit to be there by its new custodians.

Fool’s day is the most awaited time of the year for these unfortunate ones, for its time to feast, its “Papaji’s” birthday. This day is no less than a Christmas or Diwali for these as he has been celebrating this way for decades. Even the gifts that he receives in return for his work are nothing less than priceless. The innocent smile on a child’s face with a mark of milk round his lips far surpasses the sophisticated laughter at the parties.

It was the day I realized the importance of good company. Tears rolled down my heart as a true hand of blessing touched my head. The sincerity of this blessing exceeded even those of from the greatest of sanyasis and yogis. It’s here that I realised what Shri Krishna meant when he said,

“Karmanye Vadhika raste, ma Phaleshu Kadachin” (Your duty is to do your work and not to worry of the outcome)

or what Jesus meant when he said,

“Not those who saith my name, Lord, Lord…. But those who worked to the will of my Father reacheth me.”

With a heavy heart, I left the most fabulous birthday party I had ever attended. Though there was a satisfaction for being part of a philanthropic cause, I was left thinking about it on my way home. I was thinking of the remaining 364 days at “Ashadhaan”. I thought don’t we have even 365 individuals in a city of lakhs, who would like to spend a day of their life with them. I have already found one, will try to be the second and I looking out for the remaining 363.

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Chetan Bhadricha

2006-03-30T04:36:00.000-08:00

SANSKAAR OR SON’S CAR

The serenity of the sea represented the countenance of a child, only to be perturbed by an occasional spur of waves. The sun melted down in its infinite vastness only to be raised again in its full vigour the next morning. Such was the angelic view from the balcony of Mr. Ved’s residence at Marine Drive in downtown Mumbai. His building was one of the privileged one’s whose lighting was a part of the prestigious Queen’s Necklace. Mr. Ved was a successful businessman and a devout householder. He lived a happy life with his wife Gita and son Kewal. They were blessed with every material comfort that can be wished for.

A day at Mr. Ved’s residence began in sharp contrast to the divinity outside his balcony. Even today, the house was already bursting with Mumbai energy. Gangu Bai (Bai is a colloquially used term used to refer to house maids) had just arrived and it was work at full swing. Such maids become the most sought after persons in very well to do families like these. Gangu Bai didn’t live far way. She was just a bridge crossing away in a small chawl ( A chawl is a system of residence peculiar to the Girgaon region of South Mumbai wherein many small rooms are arranged in parallel lines each accommodating a family. Some of these exist even today). Such sharp differences have long been a feature of many a city.

However, there was a marked discomfort over her face today and ought to be. She had requested for a Rs.100 increase in her salary in order to meet the increased expenses of her son’s education who had recently graduated to class 8. This request had met with a lot of reluctance and resistance from Mr. Ved’s family. It had also turned into a heated argument between the employer and the employed. Just as this was happening the other day, an enthusiastic Kewal broke in with his emphatic result of his board exams. He had secured 76% in the recently concluded 12^th Std. Examinations and was on his way to joining St. Peterson’s College, one of the cities most plush college. The first thing he did on reiterating his result was to remind his parents of the car they had promised him in return for his good result. The Gangu Bai plea was soon forgotten and joy set in the family. Mr. Ved even called up the dealer for delivering the car they had chosen long back. The education of Gangu Bai’s son’s seemed to be dipping down now as the drowning sun!!!

Though the characters in the above incident were fictitious, we know that such cases are innumerable in real life. The Rs.100 which would have given the light of education in the life a poor woman's son was not relevant but the happiness of their son in receiving the car worth lakhs was. This story has been written with some imaginative skill and some harsh real life experiences. We as a society need to start thinking of this widening divide in our country. Education is the shortest bridge between the two and needs no more explanations. It’s time when people like Mr. Ved realize their social responsibilities and the power bestowed in them to make small differences which could add to a big impact. It’s time we start thinking, what is important “SANSKAAR” or “SON’S CAR”

Chetan Bhadricha
This story has been written after inspiration from the book, “Maanni Vaat”, by Sonal Modi which is the Gujarati translation of “Wise and Otherwise” by Sudha Murti. Though I may not be as good as them in writing on such topics, I hope the message has been conveyed.

2006-03-19T20:35:00.000-08:00

FIGHTING IT OUT ….

(This is my final post in the series of posts for travel in Mumbai local train. This is a sequel to my previous two posts given below. Read them first to get the real gist of it.)

By now the coveted 4^th seat owner has woken up from his self-imposed meditative state as indicated by his countenance. What ruptures this "Samadhi" is the worldly thought of his reaching the office and his destination soon arriving. This sixth sense alarm surpasses by far the best of quantum clocks in its precision. He gets up early with the hope of out-witting his fellow station contemporaries, competing with him like the flows of Ganga and Brahmaputra for the Bay of Bengal. But a look at the narrow exit is enough to break his delusions. So what was once "Optimism Personified" trying to get a seat is now for a moment "Disheartenment Restructured".

With hopes dim, yet the will of a Karma yogi, he sets off towards the exit for which there is no paths left to tread on. A path search through this dense clutter demands the strength of Bhima, the accuracy of Arjuna and the treachery of Shankuni. Did I ask too much from a single being? But the Mumbaikar does it everyday. What really calls for a pity here, however, is the futility of preventive actions taken by the office-goers to protect their polished shoes from this mini stampede.

Our battle-hardened traveller somehow does manage to align himself with the mouth of the exit again remembering the sugarcane crush, the agony of which is escalating with every passing inch. As the destination draws near, the compression due to the pressures acting on him from all sides starts squeezing out even the last iota of fat from him. This is probably the reason why most Mumbaikars do not need to follow a strict fitness regime. What really deserves a word of praise here is the steely determination of the people leaning out of the train, preventing thIS human volcano from erupting prematurely.

However, as the train finally nears the halt, the determination gives vent and the human volcano erupts with shouts as loud as the human ear will ever hear. This tumultuous flow shows no mercy to any ignorant dreamer in its path trying to obstruct it. He has no option but to involuntary accept the fate dictated to him. Mr. Feynman would surely love to use this as his explanation for Newton's First Law, "You remain at rest or in uniform motion at the mercy of the force acting."

With just out of the train, for a moment he does think about the uselessness of ironing his clothes and polishing his shoes every morning. However, the time is too short to permit him any further introspection. It's time to catch a rickshaw or bus to reach the office though exhausted and with a hope to relax a bit…So begins the day !!!

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Chetan Bhadricha

Kabhi na rukti, Chalti jaati ,
Yeh Bharat ki shaan ,
Yeh hai Mumbai , Yeh hai Mumbai ,
Yeh hai Mumbai , Meri Jaan

2006-03-13T00:51:00.000-08:00

ON THE WAY ......
(This is a sequel to my previous post. For people who havent read my first post do read it to get the real gist of it. My first post is below this one.)

If any biologist wishes to see a working example of Darwin's Theory of, "Survival of the Fittest", then Mumbai local train is the place to be. After our daily athlete has just run a momentous sprint and completed it with a daredevil plunge into the train, the next thing is to possibly get through the dense crowd cluttered at the entrance like the atoms of a solid. Every Mumbaite knows that the struggle required for this achievement is analogous to that of an electric current flowing through glass. Having overcome this infinite resistance, he then rotates his neck 180 degrees in both directions like an owl in search of any possible seating. A sure to fail case and optimism personified !!! The owl may, however, miss an ocassional prey due to oversight, but the discerning Mumbai eye ceases to miss the available 4th person accomadation on a 3 person seat only to find it at the inaccessible corner of the compartment.

It won't be an exaggeration if I say that people who have not travelled by this lifeline of Mumbai, haven't seen Mumbai. Mumbai lives in its trains. Coming back to the journey, the "lucky" one who wishes to occupy the coveted 4th seat, need not say anything, but just the eye contact or an ocassional sway of the hand is enough to get the human compression in place to accomadate him. Where else on earth do you find such an effective application of non-verbal communication. Mrs. Srinivas, I think you need to take a look. (My friends from VJTI should get the last line).

Just as all this is happening, the depressed soul realises that his dreams of an hour and half of sleep in the train which would have provided him with some much needed relief from his late night movie hangover have been shattered. He is left to contend with space enough to ground one foot, his body crushed like a sugarcane between the drums of a sugarcane juice machine and his lone eye with visibility left, amidst the dense human clutter jealously watching the Kumbhakaran (a demon from the religious book Ramayana of Hindus who would continuously sleep for months on end) on the window seat.

By the time he has graduated from the crushed sugarcane to the prized possessor of the 4th seat, its already time to bid adieu and embark on a new expedition - the act of alighting the train ..... Well, I will leave it for the next blog ... keep reading.

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Chetan Bhadricha

Kabhi na rukti, Chalti jaati ,
Yeh Bharat ki shaan ,
Yeh hai Mumbai , Yeh hai Mumbai ,
Yeh hai Mumbai , Meri Jaan

2006-03-07T01:16:00.000-08:00

GETTING ON BOARD ....

As usual, the day begins with a hasty walk to the railway station with one eye constantly affixed on the watch and the other ocassionally looking along the road. Years of diligent trodding along the same pavements have made me master the meandering moves making it unnecessary to constantly watch the route. The other eye, however, acts as a control signal to the brain that adjusts my near to running speed so as not to miss the 7:59 am local train. This is extremely important so as to avoid the next hour and half of sleep from being impreganted with thoughts of possible explanations for being late. The perennial reason of the train being late by now has far outlived its validity.

Einstein said there are just 12 people on earth who understand relativity. Mr. Einstein, I think the assertion was immature and showed the lack of foresight. Lakhs of Mumbaikars understand and experience relativity everyday wherein the clock seems to tick faster as the 7:59 deadline approaches. The legs keep accelerating with every passing tick but are still intelligent enough to conserve energy for the final stroke, the sprint to catch the train. I assure you that every Mumbaite can give even the Olympic Gold Medal winners a run for their money when it comes to sprinting and catching trains. After all, they have been practising in real life conditions for years with two sprints everyday.

Now talking of train catching sprints, it is far from the simple and monotonous 100m races at Olympics on even and predictabe track fields. Here the track, or should I say the terrain, is a mini-version of the Tour de France. It begins with a, two stairs in one move, ascend to the bridge, followed by a run to the other end and a jumping descend to the railway platform. A short detour is also available for the adventourous lot by avoiding the bridge and running over the "tracks". With finally having reached the platform, the next thing is to outpace the already departed train and board it. Though leaning out of a running train is said to be dangerous by many a awareness campaign, these people serve as God-send Angels for last last moment train catchers .... the final jerk to get you on board ..... the life saving arm-pull.

Phew ... !!! So, finally in !! Well, its just the beginning of the journey. Lots more to come ..... Keep checking out .....

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Chetan Bhadricha

Kabhi na rukti, Chalti jaati ,
Yeh Bharat ki shaan ,
Yeh hai Mumbai , Yeh hai Mumbai ,
Yeh hai Mumbai , Meri Jaan