Father of the bride...

The smell of green tea filled that small pantry. The sachet had just been taken out of the hot water in the cup. The sachet was then wound around the spoon, just so that the last drop of green tea essence could be wrenched out.

I took a sip from the cup and looked at him. He was more sad than usual today, his wrinkles more pronounced.

His name was.... hmm... does it really matter? He was just another illegal immigrant from our subcontinent, working in the middle east- the only bread earner for his family- back in the subcontinent.

Today was a hot day. Yesterday was hotter.

"Kal raat ko soye nahi kya?" ("Did you not sleep last night?"), I asked him.

He shook his head- his eyes blank and fixated on the floor.

I took another sip and started moving towards the door.

As I held the handle that opened the door, I heard his feeble voice-

"Kal meri beti ki shaadi hai..." ("It is my daughter's wedding tomorrow").

I walked towards him with a smile.

"Arey waah! Aaj nikal rahe ho aap fir...." ("That's nice. So, are you leaving today?")

His eyes still fixed on the ground, he pushed his chair back and walked away, shaking his head.

"Kya umr hai uski?" ("How old is she?"), I asked him.

"15". A tear drop appearing in his eye.

"Kab mile us-se last?" ("When did you last meet her?")

"Jab wo ek baras ki thhi" ("When she was a year old").

That tear drop now led a series of other tear drops down his cheek.

"Toh...jaana nahi hai kya?" ("So.. would you not like to go?")

"Jaaoonga, toh waapas nahi aa paaoonga." ("If I go, I cannot return.")

He rubbed his eyes, brushed away the trail of tear drops, tugged at the handle and walked out of the room.

In my mind, I thanked him for a lesson he had taught me. I was living a great life and had a reason every second to thank God for- for the life I lived.

I muttered a prayer to the same God... for the girl's happiness.

The pantry was pregnant with smell of green tea. I pulled at the handle and walked out of the room.

Purbo Bangal Diaries- Part 2- The Sitakund Hills

Part 1 of the diaries is available here.

Yesterday was Renjini's B'day. And I was not in Delhi. I have resolved that these are occasions that I most certainly will not miss in the times ahead.

Ever since I knew I was coming to Chittagong, I have nursed this desire to go to the temples of Sitakund, including the Shakti Peetha. And yesterday was the day.

Friday is an off-day here and we set out, late in the morning to the hills. As we were foreigners, we were being charged a huge amount of money to take the easier route via the eco-park. We chose to take the more difficult path and decided to trek up the hills.

So, we set out in a group of 6 and 2 of them, seeing the height at which the temple was located, backed out.

The four of us began our trek- it was much more difficult than we thought. The slopes were steep, very steep in places (one is forced to bend down and take the support of the rock in front and then climb up).

The winds were strong and I thought I could actually hear the sound of the waves of the sea which was visible on the horizon. There was hardly anybody in the hills and in the entire journey up and down, we would have seen/ met not more than 10 pilgrims.

We staggered up the hill- our trek punctuated with plenty of breaks. I have shot some videos of the trek- you will hear no voice over though as none of us had the energy to speak.

Our first milestone was a Shiva temple. Located on one of the hill tips, this place was conspicuous by the silence and peace that pervaded not just the temple interiors, but the immediate area around. When I reached the Shivalinga in the temple, I fell in front of the lord and the few seconds of prostration took away the tiredness of the last 2.5 hours of the trek.

It is in this temple that I ended up having a long conversation with a Baba who was taking care of the temple. He spoke in Bengali, interspersed with English words. I spoke in English and Hindi, interspersed with Bengali words.

I think we both understood what the other said.

After about what I think was 30 minutes, I touched the feet of the Baba and sought his permission to move to the Chandranath hills, the site of the ShaktiPeetha. He blessed me and wished me a safe journey ahead.

My friends were waiting patienly for me, perhaps enjoying their own moments of silence and peace in the area. With renewed energy we walked towards the Shakti Peetha.

There is a magnificient view of the countryside from atop the Chandranath hills. The Bay of Bengal lies on the west and one sees the green of the hills and the villages on the other sides.

The Pujari of the temple greeted us warmly and we spent sometime praying in the temple. He spoke fondly of his trip to Chennai and the temples around.

We received news here that one of our friends who could not climb up the hills was feeling unwell.

There was no more time to enjoy the hills. We had to rush down and we did .

The temple of Swayambunath/ Shambhunath was open and we had a quick darshan here. The temple of Bhavani (right at the base of the hills) was closed and outside, I prayed to her for permission for me to visit her on this trip again.

We set out towards the city and had our food on the way- the most delicious food I have had on this trip in a vegetarian restaurant, perhaps the only one I have seen so far in my brief stay here.

This blog entry is dedicated to my friends Sumit and Satpal. Also to our guide on the trip, Mr. Radhakrishnan.

Purbo Bangal diaries- Part 1- The Legend of Masterda

I am here in the land of Master Da, a.k.a., Surya Sen.

Baba Alauddin was here... Sarat Chandra was born here.

When I landed in Chittagong last week, I saw, from up above, the Jalalabad hills that dotted the landscape. Those young revolutionaries of 1930 would have gone into the forests in these hills to hide. Some of them were killed by the Brits.

When I stepped on this land, I could feel the presence of these great lovers of the land here.

Ah, well, the romanticism died soon after- the presence of some touts at the airport did the job.

This really huge Toyota vehicle was waiting for me at the airport. Probably one more of the seconds from Japan, I thought- and right, I was.

This is a huge market for second hand vehicles from Japan. And, perhaps the biggest market for ship breaking.

The week has been largely uneventful, except that I have had the chance to work with some wonderful people from back home, and here.

Today I met this gentleman whose father knew Surya Sen- they were from the same village. When I told him that I am keen on visiting the memorial of Surya Sen and the other greats who were a part of that legendary chapter in Indian history, he was more than keen to tell me about places and also, stories.

While I share below some excerpts from the stories he narrated, I will never be able to deliver justice to the emotion in his voice. Here is the story of the aftermath of the the revolution, as he told me..

"The British came to look for him in our village. He was staying with his Mama, Netra Sen at that time. The first time they came to look for him, he was dressed in a Sari, they did not recognise him and went away. The next time they came, he was a fisherman and the next time a farmer. Then the British announced a reward of 50 taka. Netra Sen was tempted and he informed the British of Masterda's location. When Masterda was being arrested and taken away, the entire village, almost 1500 of them assembled...some were crying... Masterda told them not to cry and promised them- "before my neck goes into the noose, we will have the traitor Netra Sen's head"... And so it was to be.

Netra Sen bought a big fish with 2 taka of his reward and was about to eat it when his mother taunted him for having betrayed his own nephew. It was at this time that one of Masterda's friends came, hacked him and took away his head.

Later on, Masterda was hanged in Andamans."

And then he proceeds to ask me about the Andamans...

I was reading this site later and chanced upon the last letter written by Masterda (link given at the bottom of the page on the website). I have a deep desire to go to this park in the Jalalabad area where they have the busts of the revolutionaries as a memorial (the same gentleman who narrated the story tells me that the park is still there).

Tomorrow I have an off... My friends and I are being taken on a local tour- to the temples in Sitakunda... More on that once I come back.

For today I leave you with an incident that gave me a deja vu of the time i landed in Dubai (read this if you have the time and inclination) -  I was standing in the immigration queue at the Dhaka airport last Saturday. I was chatting with my Dad on the phone when the man behind me in the queue asked me, "Malayali aanalle?" ("you are a Malayali?"). I was thrilled to bits to hear this language, here in Dhaka.

And more thrilled that the gentleman who is taking us out tomorrow... is from Kerala too...

Long live NRKs (Non Resident Keralites)...

Kumbhaabhishekam 2013 @ Tirunelveli

This is the place where the family deity has stood for hundreds of years, if not thousands of years. This is the place where my ancestors prayed. This is the place where my children and grandchildren shall pray. Naysayers may have their views, but I choose to believe.

The Madhyaaranayeswara Saastha temple or the Nadukkavudaiyaar Saastha Kovil has been the guardian deity of my family for generations. Amongst the many photos of Gods and Goddesses that adorn our Pooja room at home, I have been familiar with the painting of Dharmasaastha at home, flanked by Poornaambal and Pushkalaambal on either side. As I grew up I realized that this painting and the temple were special- almost like the poster of that one hero who is more special than the rest.

I recall distinctly that it was only post my teens that I first realized my “connect” with the place. Whenever I visit the place, I am filled with some positive energy which I cannot quite describe. It was here in this temple that we celebrated my Grandfather’s 80^th birthday and Dad’s 60^th birthday. It was here that I was administered the Moola Mantra of the deity- an initiation that was special, for I was initiated by my Periappa (Dad’s elder brother). Every special occasion in our lives has been followed by a visit to this temple- the day of my Upanayanam (sacred thread initiation ceremony)... the first visit after marriage…

My first memory of this temple dates back to the late 80’s. I was there for a Kumbhaabhishekam- a temple festival that happens typically once every 12 years. In the words of an erudite uncle of mine, it is a method in which the temple gets recharged, just as a battery is recharged.

I belong to a sect that believes in a formless God and one may smile at the thought that even we believe in having to “recharge a temple”.

Well, that debate is for a separate day. Perhaps, I am not the one best equipped to dialogue on this issue.

So yes, I go back to the first memory. I recollect seeing those eagles that arrive during the actual moment of the Abhishekam. I recollect the joy in people’s faces when they saw this sight. For the believers, the sight of the eagles at the end of the Kumbhaabhishekam is an auspicious sign.

For the rationalists, you may be surprised at this that in a place that sees no eagles, almost without fail, at the end of each Kumbhaabhishekam, these eagles fly over the Gopuram of the temple.

It was Déjà vu’ for me this Friday when I saw those eagles again- three of them.

Spiritual connect aside, this day was also a chance to reconnect with relatives, meeting new relatives and new friends.

A day very well spent…