Films not a priority for me right now: Rahul Sharma

Santoor exponent Rahul Sharma has said composing music for Hindi films was not a priority for him right now and was likely to think about it in another two years.
Rahul composed the music for one Hindi film, ‘Mujhse Dosti Karoge,’ but is not taking up similar projects as of now.
“Films are not a priority for me. I want to take the santoor ahead and to experiment with different genres of music. I have cut 40 or 41 albums so far. I was offered films after my first one, but I stuck to performances and albums. It is very difficult to strike a balance between travelling, performances and giving music to Hindi movies. I will think about composing music for films maybe in two years from now,” Rahul said in an exclusive interview with UNI here.
Rahul feels that nowadays there is no scope for music in films. “It is just a formality. It is not like in the 80’s (when music was part of a film). The lyrics have also changed. I don’t think that quality has remained,” he said, but added that he did not want to criticise the present lot of music directors.
So while fans wait to hear some quality music from him in films, Rahul will stay busy with public performances, at the Bandra Fort in Mumbai this evening (in a duet with his illustrious father Pt. Shivkumar Sharma), in Budapest (Hungary) later (March 27) and then in the US. Speaking of the US, Rahul said that there was a lot of interest in the santoor in the country. “People are aware of the santoor and want to learn to play the instrument, but there are no proper schools to impart training,” he said. Asked if he would start a school himself, Rahul said he would think about it.
Rahul, whose next album ‘Rhythm of Love’ with Ustad Zakir Hussain is due to be released in about two weeks’ time, feels that new music should be released directly on the Internet, so that there is a check on piracy to some extent, and the musician derives direct benefit (from royalties on downloads). “Music companies should make CD’s (compact discs) that cannot be copied. This will help curb piracy,” he said.
“With technology growing at a rapid pace, I think that even CD's will become obsolete in the times to come. We should be ready for the next technology,” he also said.
‘Rhythm of Love’ is a live recording of a performance that Rahul and Ustad Zakir Hussain gave at San Francisco recently. Another album, with saxophonist Kenny G, is in the pipeline. The as yet untitled album has been recorded and is due for release in about two months.
Rahul was in the city for a private performance last evening at ‘Sudesh’s Courtyard,’ an art gallery that aims to promote up and coming artists and to popularise art. As Rahul played, an artist painted along the beats and the notes to create a canvass. Rahul has earlier given a similar performance at Dubai with calligrapher Achyut Pallav.
UNI, Nagpur, February 28, 2010

'14 lakh MW can be generated from wind pressure on moving trains'

A city-based industrialist claims to have devised a technique to harness the wind pressure on a moving train to generate power, and has even obtained 22 national and international patents for the concept.
“The technique has the potential to generate 14.81 lakh megawatt (MW) of power in India alone, with its 63,000 route kilometres of railways and 14,300 trains operating every day,” Santosh Pradhan, Chief Executive Officer of Sunita Electro Engineerings, a vendor of Mahindra and Mahindra Limited (M&M), told UNI. “My calculations show that every single kilometre of the network of the Indian Railways can generate 20.89 MW of power every day. In fact, nearly 10,000 MW of electricity can be generated in Mumbai alone, on the suburban train network of the metropolis,” he said.
Explaining the concept, Mr Pradhan said that wind pressure is created on the front surface of the engine of a moving train. “This pressure can be harnessed using a system of turbo-chargers and impellers to generate a huge quantity of compressed air. A system of pipes and impellers can transmit this compressed air to the roof of the train. From there, it can be transferred to a matching system of impellers and pipes suspended from the fixtures of the overhead equipment above the track,” he said.
From the overhead fixtures, the compressed air could be directed into pressure tanks for storage, and can be used to rotate turbines or air turbine motors, Mr Pradhan said. The turbines or air turbine motors could be coupled to a generator to produce electricity, or to any other device to convert the compressed air into some form of energy, he also said.
The best part of the proposed technique was that it would need only the initial capital investment for installing the equipment, and there would be absolutely no operating cost, except for minor maintenance and repairs, he pointed out. At a rough estimate, the equipment would cost around Rupees 8 crore per MW, but the cost would go down if the technology was widely adopted, Mr Pradhan said, and pointed out that the system would pay for itself over a period of time since no operating cost was involved. MORE UNI AB
“The amount of electricity generated per kilometre per day would vary according to the length of the trains passing over a section of the track and their speeds. I have made the calculations with various permutations and combinations of track length, train length and train speed. The estimate of 20.89 MW per kilometre of track per day and a total of 14.81 lakh MW is assuming 20 coaches to every train, and an average speed of 80 kilometres per hour. The amount of electricity generated would be higher at higher speeds, and vice versa. The sections of tracks within cities and towns are excluded, because train speeds are too low there,” he said.
Although he has obtained the patents, the concept has not been put to trial yet, Mr Pradhan said, adding: “Top officials of the Indian Railways have been apprised of the concept. I am ready to conduct trials and demonstrate the technology if I am allowed to erect the equipment on a section of track and on some trains. The railways have to grant permission for that.” The Indian Railways spent nearly 17 per cent of its revenue, or around Rupees 15,000 crore, on fuel, and could save a huge amount if it adopted the technique proposed, he asserted.
Mr Pradhan said that in addition to the generation of a huge quantity of energy, the technique would also help conserve the environment as there would be no pollution. “The proposed technology will be very eco-friendly, and help save 2586 Million tonnes of carbon dioxide emission in India alone. If adopted the world over, it would help reduce the emission of harmful gases drastically, and prevent damage to the ozone layer,” the 38-year old industrialist, who hails from Indore and is currently based in Nagpur, said.
Sunita Electro Engineerings is an ISO 9000 (2000) certified company that manufacturessheet metal press parts, precision turned parts, press tooling and moulds and special purpose machines. It has units in Indore and Nagpur, and makes 72 different parts for M&M. Mr Pradhan himself has 20 years of experience in mechanical engineer related works and product designing, and has expertise in product designing to complete manufacturing solutions.
(UNI, Nagpur, October 20, 2009)

S Korean teenager bucks trend, to study English in Nagpur

Bucking the trend in her country, a South Korean teenager has decided to come to India – to Nagpur, to be specific – to study English rather than follow her compatriots to either the United States (US), Canada, the United Kingdom (UK) or Australia to brush up their skills.
“I love India. I love her culture, ethos and food. That is why I want to come to India to improve my English. It will also give me the opportunity to learn more about the country and its culture,” the 15-year old Jun Yeji, from Seoul in South Korea, told UNI here.
If things go according to plan, she will join the Standard VIII class in a school here during the next academic session (2008-2009) and study for 2 years before returning to her country to take the high school examination there. This will be possible because South Korea has an informal education system that runs parallel to the formal schooling system, and wherein students are allowed to take an examination directly for middle school as well as high school. Yeji has already cleared her middle school examination through the informal system.
In Nagpur, though, she will be allowed the join the class, but not take the board examination for matriculation. “While in India, I will also study Hindi,” the tall, blonde and energetic Yeji said.
“My daughter just loves India. I don’t know why,” says her mother, Kim Shinae, a primary school teacher back home (Korean women retain their maiden name after marriage).
“The cultures of South Korea and India are pretty similar. The education systems in the two countries are also similar. The students there also have to study three languages - mother tongue Korean, English and one other language, which is usually a European language, besides mathematics, social sciences and science in addition to music, arts and sports. So I think Yeji will have no problems,” she said.

“Youngsters from South Korea do know English, but they are not very fluent. Therefore, they all go to one of the four major English-speaking countries – the US, Canada, the UK and Australia – to improve their skills,” Ms Shinae said. “Nobody comes to India, leave alone Nagpur, to study English. So Yeji will be the first to do so, as far as I know,” she also said.
It was ‘love at first sight’ for Yeji when she first visited India about two years ago with her parents. Father Jun Seonj Pyo, a preacher, had brought his family along when he returned to India to review the relief and rehabilitation work in which he had participated earlier in the Tsunami affected areas. Mr Pyo, who heads the Neighbour Love Church in Seoul, had come to India shortly after the disaster in December 2004, through an organisation of churches, to assist the effort.
While in India, the family spent some time in Nagpur at the home of Dr John Chelladurai, who heads the India Peace Centre (IPC) in the city. So when Yeji expressed her desire to study in India, Mr Pyo got in touch with Dr Chelladurai, who agreed to be her local guardian and help the girl get admission to a good school here.
“We have spoken to a few schools, and I am confident that things will work out fine,” Dr Chelladurai said. Ms Shinae and Yeji are currently in Nagpur for finalise the admission and complete the formalities.
Incidentally, Yeji has already made friends with a girl her age, Ela, who belongs to a family close to that of Dr Chelladurai’s. The two spend a lot of time together whenever Ela gets time off from her school and studies, with mischief and ‘masti’ high on the agenda. The way the two girls have taken a liking for each other prompts Dr Chelladurai to comment that they are like sisters, and that Ela’s mother, Ujjwala, will be like Yeji’s foster mother in Nagpur. Her face lighting up, Ms Shinae draws on her very limited vocabulary of Hindi, which includes ‘ek, do, teen, chaar, paanch, and Namaste,’ and expresses her thanks with a broad smile and folded hands: “Shukriya!”

(UNI, Nagpur, January 31, 2008)

Slum children get a new life, literally, at ‘Navjeevan’

Babita (name changed), a class VI student, loves to dance, and is adept at Bharatanatyam. No cultural programme at her school is complete without Babita’s performance, and she never fails to evoke admiration. Nothing unusual, really.
Now consider this – two of Babita’s three elder sisters are commercial sex workers (CSWs). Her father, a drunkard, is a rag picker, and has taken another wife after the death of Babita’s mother. The three sisters, her father and her stepmother live in a cramped shanty they call home.
Had it not been for Navjeevan School, Babita could easily have been pushed into the flesh trade by now. “By the grace of God and thanks to Navjeevan, Babita is now getting a decent education. She is one of our brightest students, and wants to be a teacher. Here, she has gotten a new life, literally, and that is what the name of our school means,” says Aneeta Patel, the Secretary of the school.
Navjeevan is a residential school for slum children – probably the only of its kind in the entire country. “There are schools and literacy programmes for children living in slums, but ours is perhaps the only one in the country with a hostel attached,” Ms Patel told UNI. At present, the school has 150 students, all of whom are from slums. They are studying from nursery to class VI, with half of them, including boys and girls, living in the hostel, she said.
The boarders are given breakfast, lunch and dinner, while the ‘day scholars’ are given breakfast and lunch, Ms Patel said. They are given free education, uniforms and study material as well, she also said.
The stories of almost all the students in the school are as poignant as that of Babita’s. Ritu (name changed) rushed to the school with her two sons after her father-in-law tried twice to rape her. When she complained to her husband, he admonished her for trying to ‘tarnish’ the family’s name. Ritu now works in the school, while her sons study there and live in the hostel.
Ranjana’s (name changed) father is a cook at a small wayside eatery, and, by her own admission, ‘sometimes steals’ to make ends meet. Fed up with the poverty, he once tried to sell off his daughter into the flesh trade, after which her mother sent her to Navjeevan. The school’s reputation has travelled, and now it has children from outside Nagpur, including adjoining Wardha and Amravati districts, and even neighbouring Chhattisgarh.
Ms Patel said that the school started as a small effort to educate poor children from slums at home. “We would buy snacks for the kids to make them come for the coaching. The idea of Navjeevan evolved from this effort. We started a residential school, as we want to prevent as many children as possible from going back to an environment that encourages them to become criminals and anti-social elements. This is an area for concern – one of the boys said he wanted to be a ‘pickpocket’ when he grew up. Such people are the only role models they had. The kids were either into picking pockets, stealing or begging,” she said, adding that the school provides a bus for the kids who commute to and from home.
The schooling at Navjeevan has shown them a better path of life, and the children have taken to studies like fish to water, Ms Patel, who all the kids affectionately call ‘Aunty,’ said. “They are all extremely talented, and take part in activities like drawing, painting, embroidery and music with enthusiasm. They also have a very high level of intelligence,” she says with justified pride.
The initial funding for the school came from a Dutch couple, which had adopted two girls from Nagpur several years ago from an orphanage managed by Ms Patel’s mother, Iris Wilkinson. The couple runs a voluntary organisation in Holland to help the government find jobs for the unemployed, and they also keep raising funds for Navjeevan.
However, it’s not all a bed of roses for the Navjeevan team, Ms Patel said. “Finance is a major problem. We need 600 kilograms of rice and 300 kilograms of pulses every month, for the children’s food. We serve each of them one egg every day for protein. Then there are other expenses, like staff salaries, electricity, transport and water. You can imagine the kind of expenditure that we incur,” she said.
In fact, the situation was so bad at the beginning of the current academic session that the Navjeevan management committee had seriously contemplated not re-opening the school after the summer vacations, Ms Patel added.

(UNI, Nagpur, November 16, 2008)

Maoists now appeal to police cadre to revolt

Faced with a shortage of cadres and difficulty in making new recruitment, naxalite organisations have focussed their attention on the police force itself and are making an attempt to instigate revolt among the men in uniform.
Pamphlets calling upon the men in the police department and para-military forces to take up arms against the very system for which they work have been found in parts of the naxalite-infested areas in Vidarbha region of Maharashtra.
This is probably the first time that the Maoists are directly trying to provoke the sentiments of the police and para-military forces, and marks a major shift from their policy of directing such efforts towards the general public. The outlaws normally treat the law-enforcement agencies as their prime enemy and make them a target of their violent activities.
Officials say that the focus on the police force could be a strategy being adopted by the outlaws in view of dwindling cadres and poor response to recruitment drives.
The pamphlets, purportedly distributed by the Communist Party of India (Maoist), said that the present situation of the police was no different than it was during the British rule, when a force consisting of Indian recruits was used to suppress the voice of their own countrymen.
The present rulers were using the force to inhumanly stifle the voice of legitimate protests in all parts of the country, the pamphlets said. This had earned for the police nothing but the wrath and hatred of the common people, they said.
The police had to compromise with their conscience to use arms against their own brethren, and were also living a life full of tension and uncertainty, with no guarantee of their jobs, the pamphlets said.
Asserting that the party had full sympathy for the men in uniform, the pamphlets called upon them to take up arms against the system that exploited them and had ‘made their lives miserable and filled it with depression, tension and problems.’
On a sentimental note, the pamphlets said that the policemen were like the farmers and workers of the country, except that they wore uniforms provided by the government.
“Capitalist and imperialist powers shake to their roots whenever soldiers fought against an unjust system together with labourers and farmers. History abounds in such instances,” the pamphlets said, adding that the struggle to create a new social system would be ‘incomplete without the participation of the police.’
Commenting on the content of the pamphlets, Special Inspector General of Police for Anti-Naxalite Operation (ANO) Pankaj Gupta told UNI that this was clearly an attempt by Maoists to divide the society and to create rifts in it.
“For the naxalites, the police are enemy number one. They are, therefore, trying to instigate and divide the policemen,” he said.

The ranks of the naxalite cadres had decreased drastically because of the strict action by the law-enforcement agencies, Mr Gupta said. In addition, the naxalite outfits were getting poor response to their own recruitment drives, and were finding it difficult to maintain the numbers of their cadre, he said.
“It appears that the Maoists have, therefore, adopted a policy of targeting the police themselves and decrease their morale. They seem to have adopted a ploy to influence the police adversely,” he also said.
The pamphlets appeared to have been issued by Maoist organisations since the issues raised in the content and the language used are similar to that of the outlaws, Mr Gupta said. However, the pamphlets were on plain paper and not on any ‘stationery’ or letterhead of any naxalite organisation, he pointed out.
Late last year, the police had found pamphlets purportedly distributed by the CPI (Maoist) in the district calling upon dalits to take to arms to fight against injustice. The pamphlets had said that armed struggle was the only way to stop the injustice against the dalits.
Mr Gupta had said at the time that naxalites were trying to incite the passions of the dalit youths against ‘injustice’ and provoke them to take to arms. This could be a deliberate ploy to attract the youth to the illegal activity since naxal organisations had been finding it difficult to make fresh recruitments into the cadre, he had said.
Shortly before that, the police had found a handwritten note in Gondi language in the pocket of a naxalite killed in an encounter in Gadchiroli district, calling for road blockades against the killing of four members of a dalit family by villagers in Khairlanji in Bhandara district of the region. The note had also mentioned that information of the Khairlanji incident had been ‘sent to headquarters.’ The note was found from the pocket of the naxalite identified as Chamru Gota, who was among the three naxalites killed in an encounter on December 22, 2006.

(UNI, Nagpur, June 10, 2007)

Dynasties have made little dent in Vidarbha

Contrary to popular belief, political dynasties have held very little sway over the electorate in Vidarbha region of Maharashtra, barring a few notable exceptions.
Among the prominent exceptions that merit mention are the Naik’s, the Gawli’s and the Wasnik’s.
The Naik family of Pusad in Yavatmal district has had a very good record in politics. Vasantrao Naik was chief minister of Maharashtra for 12 long years, the longest tenure for anyone so far. His nephew Sudhakarrao was also the chief minister from 1991 to 1993. He had to step down after the communal riots in Mumbai in the wake of the demolition of the disputed structure in Ayodhya in 1992. He later unsuccessfully contested the Lok Sabha election from Washim in 1996, but won in 1998. He went with the NCP when the party was formed in 1999, but Washim went to the Congress at the time. Sudhakarrao passed away later.
Sudhakarrao's younger brother Manohar has been a minister in the Maharashtra cabinet for several years, and now holds the Food and Drugs Administration portfolio. He unsuccessfully contested from Washim in 2004 as an NCP nominee.
Pundalikrao Gawali was a prominent leader, having represented Washim in the Lok Sabha. After his death, his daughter Bhawana took up the mantle, winning from Washim in 1999 and again in 2004. Incidentally, she got married a few days before the voting took place in 2004.
Balkrishna Wasnik had three terms in the Lok Sabha, from Bhandara in 1957, Gondia in 1962 and Buldhana in 1980. His son Mukul has had mixed fortunes. Having made his debut with a win from Buldhana in 1984, the junior Wasnik lost in 1989. He regained the seat in 1991, only to lose it in 1996, wrest it in 1998, only to lose it again in 1999 as well as in 2004. He was made a minister of state in the P V Narasimha Rao cabinet after he won in 1991.
Prominent leaders have tried, with very limited success, to initiate their sons into politics. Even while former Maharashtra minister Datta Meghe was in the Nationalist Congress Party (NCP), son Sagar joined the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) to launch his political career. He won a term to the Maharashtra Legislative Council as a BJP nominee. Mr Meghe, once considered very close to NCP chief Sharad Pawar, later fell out with him, and quit the party to join the Congress. The junior Meghe also parted ways with the BJP and joined the Congress with his father.
Rajendra, the son of former Congress legislator Bhau Mulak, tried his hand in a civic poll several years ago, but failed. He entered the assembly from Umrer in 2004. Satish, the son of another former Congress legislator Sunil Shinde, joined the Shiv Sena and contested the assembly elections in 2004 from Katol in Nagpur district, but failed, losing to Anil Deshmukh of the NCP.
Another former Congress legislator who has been trying in vain to push his son into mainstream politics is Krishnarao Pandav. His son Kiran unsuccessfully tried his hand at civic politics several years ago. He joined the NCP when it was formed, but quit to contest from Nagpur South assembly constituency as a Bahujan Samaj Party (BSP) nominee in 2004, and lost. The eventual winner, Govindrao Wanjari (Congress), unfortunately died of a heart attack hours before members of the new Legislative Assembly were sworn in.
After a brief hiatus, the junior Pandav went to the Congress before coming back to the NCP. Recently, in the hope that the Congress-NCP combine would prefer a young face, Kiran filed his nomination for the by-election from Nagpur Local Self-Government Authorities constituency, a seat that had fallen vacant by the resignation of Sagar Meghe. However, his hopes were dashed and had to withdraw as the leadership decided to allow the Congress to contest the seat, and nominated senior leader Anantrao Gharad, who eventually lost.
Incidentally, Krishnarao Pandav managed to get a Congress ticket for his daughter Rajani Barde at the civic elections in Nagpur in 2007, and she is now a councillor. The Congress and NCP did not have an alliance at this election, and there were complaints against Kiran from a section of NCP workers that he had worked against the party’s interests.
Speaking of Govindrao Wanjari, in the by-election from Nagpur South after his death, his son Abhijeet tried in vain to get a ticket from the Congress. He contested as an independent, only to lose.
The Deshmukh family of Katol in Nagpur district, however, has had a pretty good run in politics. Cousins Ranjit and Anil have been ministers in the Maharashtra cabinet. Ranjit Deshmukh, who was once President of Nagpur Zilla Parishad (ZP), has held several portfolios, including irrigation. Anil Deshmukh has had a spectacular run in politics. Like his cousin, Anil was also President of Nagpur ZP before he jumped into the fray for the assembly elections in 1995. He won as an independent from Katol, and was made minister of state for cultural affairs in the BJP-Shiv Sena alliance government. In 1999, Anil joined the NCP and won another term, retaining his berth in the cabinet. He won again in 2004, and was made a minister again, only to be dropped during the recent change of guard in Maharashtra in the wake of the 26/11 terror attacks in Mumbai.
And Kamal Gavai, wife of veteran politician and former Maharashtra Legislative Council chairman R S Gavai, tried in vain to enter the Lok Sabha from their hometown Amravati in 1980.

(UNI, Nagpur, March 12, 2009)

BSP polled 11.55% votes in Vidarbha in 2004 LS polls

The Bahujan Samaj Party (BSP) polled a whopping 11.55 per cent of the total votes cast in the 11 constituencies in Vidarbha at the Lok Sabha elections in 2004. The BSP polled 5,49,212 votes out of the total 47,56,380 votes that were cast in the region.
In fact, BSP candidates polled more than the margin of victory in four constituencies. The tally of the party’s candidate was very close to the victory margin in one constituency, and was over 50 per cent of the margin in three others. In only three constituencies were the BSP nominees unable to make a dent, not touching even the 10,000 mark in one of those.
Candidates of the BSP polled more than the margin of victory in Bhandara, Wardha, Ramtek and Chandrapur constituencies. In Bhandara, where Shishupal Patle of the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) defeated Praful Patel of the Nationalist Congress Party (NCP) by a narrow margin of 3,009 votes, BSP candidate Ajeeb Shastri polled 90,670 votes to rank third. The fourth candidate was way behind with just over 10,000 votes. Mr Patle polled 2,77,388 votes, while Mr Patel polled 2,74,379 votes. Mr Patel later got elected to the Rajya Sabha and is now Union Minister of State for Civil Aviation.
In Wardha, too, the battle was decided by a very narrow margin. Suresh Waghmare of the BJP (2,69,045 votes) defeated Prabha Rau of the Congress (2,65,857) by 3,188 votes, while BSP nominee Somraj Telkhede polled 54,009 votes. Mr Telkhede ranked third, being way ahead of Yeshwant Zade of the CPM, placed fourth, who could poll only 14,832 votes.
In Ramtek, Subodh Mohite of the Shiv Sena (2,76,720) defeated Dr Shrikant Jichkar of the Congress (2,62,618) by 16,102 votes, while Chandansingh Rotele of the BSP polled 55,442 votes. Here, again, the BSP nominee was placed third, with the tally of the candidate placed fourth being way behind at 15,647. (Dr Jichkar later died in a road accident.)
Incidentally, Mr Mohite later quit the Shiv Sena to join the Congress. In the by-election held afterwards, the Congress fielded Mr Mohite, while the Shiv Sena fielded Prakash Jadhav. Mr Jadhav defeated Mr Mohite by 32,502 votes in the by-poll held in April 2007, in which the BSP did not contest.
In Chandrapur, Hansraj Ahir of the BJP (3,66,014) defeated Naresh Pugalia of the Congress (3,06,191) by a margin of 59,823 votes, while Rajendra Vaidya of the BSP polled 1,04,416 votes. The candidate placed fourth could manage only 26,837 votes.
In Chimur, the tally of BSP nominee Yograj Kuthe was 75,099, pretty close to the margin of victory – 98,774. Here, Mahadeorao Shivankar of the BJP polled 3,36,711 votes to defeat Jogendra Kawade of the People’s Republican Party-Congress alliance, who polled 2,37,937 votes. The three constituencies where the BSP tally was more than half of the victory margin were (figures in brackets indicate BSP tally and victory margin, in that order): Amravati – 31,573, 52,314; Yavatmal – 30,137, 56,804; and Nagpur – 57,747, 98,500;
By contrast, in Akola, Buldhana and Washim constituencies, the BSP could not make a dent. In Akola, in fact, BSP nominee Vishram Tayde could not even touch five figures, managing only 9,951 votes. The margin of victory in Akola was 1,06,371.
In Buldhana, the margin of victory was 59,907, while the BSP polled 18,241. In Washim, the BSP tally was 21,943, with the margin of victory being 60,898.
Significantly, BSP chief Mayawati drew a packed audience when she addressed a public meeting here in October 2006, to mark the 50th anniversary of Dr Babasaheb Ambedkar’s conversion to Buddhism.
Vidarbha saw a ‘saffronwash’ in 2004, with the BJP-Shiv Sena alliance winning 10 of the 11 seats in the region. The sole exception was Nagpur, where Vilas Muttemwar retained his seat for the Congress. He went on to become the Minister of State for Renewable Energy in the union cabinet.
Interestingly, in the Maharashtra Legislative Assembly elections held a few months after the Lok Sabha polls in 2004, the BSP’s tally in terms of percentage actually went down – to 9.30 per cent (8,62,000 out of the 92,70,000 cast). However, its candidates upset many an applecart, polling more than the margin of victory in as many as 34 of the 66 assembly constituencies in the region! Of these 34, the Shiv Sena-BJP alliance won on 19 and the Congress-NCP combine on 12, with independents winning on 3.
(UNI, Nagpur, March 12, 2009)

BBC plans TV serial on Mahatma Gandhi

The British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC) plans to produce a television serial on Mahatma Gandhi, with an Indian director and cast.
“The serial will consist of 26 parts of 30 minutes each. It will be made in English and Hindi, with BBC telecasting the English version,” director Devendra Khandelwal, a Mumbai-based short film and documentary maker, told UNI here. A 60-year old theatre actor from Mumbai, identified only as ‘Dr Sooraj,’ had been chosen to play the Mahatma, but the search was still on for an actress to play the role of Kasturba, he said.
“I want the characters in the serial to be realistic. That’s the reason I have chosen the 60-year old Dr Sooraj for the main role. I want my Kasturba to look exactly like Kasturba. I have been searching for my Kasturba for the last two years, but in vain,” Mr Khandelwal said. “I spent five years working on the script for the serial. So I don’t mind spending a little more time looking for (an actress to play) Kasturba,” he also said.
The serial would be shot simultaneously in English and Hindi with the same cast and crew, the director said. The Hindi version would be telecast by an Indian television channel, and he would start looking for a slot once actual production commenced, Mr Khandelwal said.
Incidentally, Mr Khandelwal claims that he had made the highest number of short films on Mahatma Gandhi, including ‘Mani Bhawan.’ The documentary maker’s plans included a 500-part animation series on the great men of India, from Raja Harishchandra, to India’s missile man and former President Dr A P J Abdul Kalam.
Mr Khandelwal said that besides numerous documentaries and short films, he had made television commercials and corporate films, besides one feature film ‘Maut Ki Sazaa.’ He has acted in several films in Hindi, Punjabi, Bhojpuri, Gujarati and Bengali, including Basu Bhattacharya’s ‘Tumhara Kalloo,’ Basu Chatterji’s ‘Khatta Meetha,’ ‘Jeena Yahan,’ ‘Durga,’ and ‘Kamla Ki Maut,’ and B R Ishara’s ‘Sautela Pati.’ He heads the Indian Infotainment Media Corporation (IIMC), a film production house.
IIMC will host ‘Gandhi Panorama,’ an international festival of films on Mahatma Gandhi, at Sewagram in adjoining Wardha district from October 2 to 4. The festival, the first of its kind in the world, would feature films of all categories from several counties, Mr Khandelwal said. There would neither be an entry fee nor awards, and the festival would be held every five years, he added.
The Limca book of Records 2006 lists IIMC (www.iimc.co.in, www.culturalfilmsindia.com) as the biggest producer of short films in 35 mm/16 mm in the private sector, and Mr Khandelwal with the highest number of short films to his credit. IIMC produced 78 documentaries between 2004 and 2007.
(UNI, Nagpur, September 28, 2008)

How time flies: Government funds documentary on RSS!

It is indeed surprising how times change. Once strictly taboo in the corridors of power, the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) and things connected with it now have official sanction. Well, practically so, with the Ministry of Information and Broadcasting (I&B) of the Government of India actually funding a 30 minute documentary on Dr Keshav Balirampant Hedgewar, the founder of the RSS.
The change in the government's attitude can probably be attributed to the presence of Atal Behari Vajpayee at the helm of affairs in New Delhi. Yet, the RSS, ostracised for its alleged involvement in the assassination of Mahatma Gandhi and the demolition of the disputed structure at Ayodhya, has come a long, long way. (The RSS has been banned thrice in the past - in 1948 shortly after the Mahatma's assassination, in 1975, during the emergency, and in 199 after 'Black Sunday' at Ayodhya).
The Films Division, which is under the Ministry of I&B, has sanctioned Rs.10 lakh for producing the documentary on 35 mm film. The documentary is being directed by Yakub Sayeed, a former Doordarshan officer.
The seeds of the documentary were sown in his mind when Sayeed, as Station Director of the Nagpur Centre of Doordarshan, created a storm by producing a programme on RSS in 1985. He was given a stern dressing down by the top brass, but Sayeed stood his ground by asserting that he was only fulfilling his obligation towards the local audience.
Sayeed retired from Doordarshan in 1992. The documentary on Dr Hedgewar remained a pet project. About a year ago, he wrote about the idea to the Prime Minister himself. He got a routine acknowledgement of his letter. Routine, that is, until he received a formal proposal from the Films Division.
And where else would a documentary on RSS be shot, but at Nagpur, the city that witnessed the organisation's birth and growth, and is still at least on paper, its headquarters? Sayeed and his crew recently completed a week-long schedule at various locations in Nagpur, canning some of the most important events in the RSS founder's life. Some more scenes are to be shot over three days in June in Kolkata, where Hedgewar obtained his degree in medical science.
Sayeed has used both narrative and dramatization to move the script. The documentary is Hindi, but will be dubbed in 13 other languages. The documentary is expected to be complete by August, and will be released by the Films division.
A lot of research and preparation has gone into the script. After receiving the sanction from the Films Division, Sayeed read over 60 books on Dr Hedgewar. Experts then gave him a list 60 important incidents in Dr Hedgewar's life. Sayeed selected the 15 most important among them to feature in the documentary.
True to the style of functioning in RSS, the final okay for the script had to come from the top - the Sarsanghchalak himself. Sayeed spent over three hours with RSS chief K. S. Sudarshan in Mumbai several weeks ago to finalise the script. Once the script was approved, Sayeed wanted to waste no time in getting the film on the floor. That explains the hectic shooting schedule in Nagpur during the ferocious summer.
The RSS itself is also extending all cooperation in the film's production. Some scenes were shot at Smruti Mandir in Reshimbag, where RSS has created a memorial to the first two Sarsanghchalaks. (Dr Hedgewar and Madhav Sadashiv Golwalkar). It also deployed a squad of 'Swayamsevaks' for a scene of a 'shakha' in progress.
The decision to produce a documentary rather than a full -length feature film is the result of several constraints. According to Sayeed, producing a feature film is a big and costly exercise. It would have been difficult to find a financier for the project. Secondly, he would have been compelled to take 'artistic licence' in feature film, adding imaginary episodes and incidents to keep the narrative going. "My purpose is not to tell a story, but to highlight Dr Hedgewar's thoughts and work. I want to show that Dr Hedgewar was pro-India and not anti-Muslim and that the RSS is not anti-Congress," Sayeed told this correspondent between takes.
Sayeed is, therefore, not bothered whether the actor who plays the lead role resembles Dr Hedgewar: "You cannot have 100 per cent physical resemblance - that is just impossible. I am more concerned about whether the actor can convey the RSS founder's thoughts. I definitely 100 per cent there!"
That is a real challenge for Ramesh Lakhmapure, a Nagpur-based threatre activist, who plays Dr Hedgewar in the documentary. Lakhmapure was reportedly chosen over renowned actors like Sachin Khedekar and Govind Namdeo for the role. A competent theater actor and director, Lakhmapure finds his first film assignment a big learning experience.
The shooting has not been without hiccups. Sayeed was to shoot a scene showing a meeting between Mahatma Gandhi and Dr Hedgewar. However, the schedule went haywire as it took several hours for Govind Mahadeo, who plays Gandhi, to complete his make-up. All the while, Lakhmapure waited patiently in the unbearable head wearing a woolen coat.
Sayeed also wanted to shoot some scenes in the house in the Mahal area of Nagpur where Dr Hedgewar lived. However, he had to drop the idea since he thought the house looked 'too new' consequent to a recent restoration as a memorial.
The fact that a new government will have been installed at the Centre by the time the film is completed and the possibility that is may not be one led by the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) does not seem to bother Sayeed much. "Mera kaam hai film poori karna. Baaki who jaane (My job is to complete the film. The Films Division will bother about the rest)," he quips.
(Free Press Journal, Mumbai, May 9, 2004)

India’s High Flying Ladies

On Saturday women showed that even sky is not the limit for them.
For on display were the skills of several daring ladies who had the courage to accept one of the toughest challenges in aviation -- a gruelling 900 nautical mile air race without sophisticated navigation aids.
The gruelling race was Air Race India 2003, which was held over the last three days across the country to mark the centenary of aviation.
A total of 43 aircraft of different makes, styles and colours took off from three points in the country -- Goa in west zone, Kolkata in east zone and Bangalore in south zone -- to converge simultaneously at Nagpur on Saturday.
Originally, there were to be four legs to the race, but the one from Chandigarh to Nagpur had to be cancelled at the last moment because of inclement weather.
So aviation lovers had to make do with 43 aircraft. A total of 51 teams had registered for participation. Though the aircraft zooming in confidently to make the final touchdown attracted a lot of attention, the limelight was squarely focussed on the women.
These were 15 girl cadets from various air squadrons of the National Cadet Corps. These girls along with 15 boy cadets participated in the race as co-pilots -- each one navigating for the pilot during one stage of the race.
So there were ten cadets on each leg from Goa, Kolkata and Bangalore -- five girls and five boys.
The feat is incredible because most girls are barely out of their teens, some as young as 19.
For Bangalore's Prashanthi Menon it was an experience to remember for a lifetime. From the 8 Karnataka Air Squadron of the NCC, Prashanti was the co-pilot of Captain Anup Kumar Nair. A commerce graduate, she plans to join the Indian Air Force.
Smita Patil of Belgaum, who was co-pilot to Wing Commander T S Chauhan, was bubbling with joy on completing the race. Like Prashanti, she too belongs to the 8 Karnataka Air Squadron.
Prashanthi and Smita were among the ten NCC cadets with at least 100 hours of flying experience.
Air Commodore M S Jauhar, Deputy Director General of NCC, said the cadets were put through a stringent selection process for entry. The NCC, he said, had entered three aircraft -- all Zen Air micro lights, in each leg.
But the icing in the cake for the women participating in the race was Audrey Maben. Flying solo from Bangalore to Nagpur in an X-Air-F aircraft manufactured by the Bangalore-base Raj Hamsa, Maben said, "The experience has made me a better pilot."
The dark, lanky and obviously happy Maben said, "It was entirely my show -- planning, execution and decisions in mid-air were all mine."
Audrey had about 125 hours of flying experience before the race, including five hours of solo, which she did for her flying licence. The race has been a once-in-a-lifetime experience for the lady who teaches power gliding at Bangalore Aerosports.
Audrey had a scare on the first stage (Arakkonam to Cudappa) of the south leg itself when she ran out of fuel due to trouble in the main fuel tank of her aircraft. But the spunky lady managed to reach her destination.
She also encountered some bad weather on one of the stages, but kept her cool and came through with flying colours.
"The last three days have been very interesting. It was a great opportunity to learn," the proud Maben said.
(Rediff.com, November 23, 2003.)
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Dr Shrikant Jichkar: A scholar-politician

Death finally sneaked up on him when he expected it the least. Dr Shrikant Jichkar had defied death when he spiritedly fought off cancer. However, it seems that death had retreated only to stalk him silently since. On Wednesday, it struck in the most devastating and merciless manner.
Dr Jichkar died of grievous injuries sustained after his car slammed into an oncoming bus at Dhamana Shivar, about 40 kilometres from Nagpur.
A man with a multifaceted personality, Dr Jichkar was interested in and had a deep study of several subjects. Besides English, Hindi and Marathi, he had command over Sanskrit.
Born on September 14, 1954, in village Ajangaon (Jichkar) in Katol Tehsil of Nagpur district, Dr Jichkar completed his medical education from Government Medical College in Nagpur, obtaining his MBBS and MD degrees.
Although he was selected for the Indian Police Service (IPS) in 1978 and for the Indian Administrative Service (IAS) in 1980, Dr Jichkar chose to make a career in politics. In fact, his innings had begun in 1977 itself when he was elected the president of Nagpur University Students Council (NUSC). In 1980, he took the plunge into politics when he successfully contested the election to the Maharashtra Legislative Assembly from Katol constituency.
Dr Jichkar was minister of state in the Maharashtra Cabinet in 1982-83 and again from 1986 to 1988. In all, he held 14 portfolios at various times, among them being finance and home.
He was a legislator from 1980 to 1992, being a member of both the legislative assembly as well as the legislative council. He was a member of the Rajya Sabha from 1992 to 1998.
He had the honour of being appointed the first Vice Chancellor of the Kavi Kulguru Kalidas Sanskrit University that was established at Ramtek in Nagpur district in 1993. In fact, he had a major share in the establishment of the university.
Dr Jichkar had also established a unique record by obtaining nine MA degrees in various subjects, including Public Administration, Sanskrit, Sociology, English Literature, Political Science, Economics and History. This was in addition to degrees in journalism, business administration and law.
While he had three books to his credit, he had a collection of 52,000 rare books in his personal library. A staunch opponent of the demand for statehood for Vidarbha, Dr Jichkar had written a book on the finances of the region to demonstrate that the state would be unviable.
His annual lecture analysing the Union Budget was hugely popular. Thousands would throng the auditorium to listen to his insights into the budget proposals.
Dr Jichkar had a deep knowledge of Indian culture and Hindu rites and rituals. Among the numerous subjects in which Dr Jichkar had an interest in was astrology. He could 'read' a horoscope, including his own. He could analyse the movement of planets in a horoscope down to the last detail.
During an interview with this correspondent at his residence several years ago, the conversation turned to astrology. Dr Jichkar consulted an elaborate chart that he had prepared himself and predicted that the interview was taking place at the right time. He said that in another half an hour, the planetary positions would change and he would have been in a grouchy mood.
But the scholar-politician could not stop death from sneaking up to him.
(Rediff.com, June 3, 2004)
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Lack of means, but no lack of will

This is a saga of a poor family's grit, determination and sacrifice to fulfil their child's dream. A dream that many may have, but not everyone can realise. The dream of entering the 'noble profession' of medicine.
Vaishali Ramesh Wankhede, a resident of the Kachipura slums in Ramdaspeth area of Nagpur city, dreams of becoming a doctor. And she has just cleared the first step on the way to fulfilling her dream.
Vaishali surmounted abject poverty to achieve what most people would have considered impossible – passing the Pre-Medical Test. And she did not just scrape through, but came out with flying colours, scoring 84 per cent.
A score of 84 per cent may not seem much in this age of super-scores nearing a perfect 100, but Vaishali's background makes her achievement truly extraordinary.
Vaishali's mother Maya is a domestic help. Her father Ramesh used to pull a rickshaw, but had to give up the job owing to poor health. Her elder brother Mukesh works as a driver, while the younger Dinesh has a wayside cycle repair shop.
The family lives in a cramped cubbyhole of a house that is barely 15 feet by 10 feet even by a generous estimate. There is barely enough room for a couple of individuals, leave alone an entire family.
The house is divided into two sections by a low wall; one half serves as the kitchen and the other as the general living area, which has a bed, a table, and a cupboard jostling for space. Asked where she studied, Vaishali replies, matter-of-factly, "Here, on the bed."
It is surprising that the girl could find the time and the inclination to pore over her books in such a setting. This was possible only because of the sacrifices of her family. Her mother took on extra work while brothers Mukesh and Dinesh both quit school so that Vaishali's education could continue. In a social milieu where even basic education for a girl, leave alone higher education, is last on the family to-do list, and where children start working from a young age, sometimes even before they enter their teens, these sacrifices are truly extraordinary.
Significantly, Vaishali scored 73 per cent at the Secondary School Certificate examination and 81 per cent at the Higher Secondary Certificate examination, that too without the aid of private coaching classes, which she obviously could not afford. Her determination to become a doctor by fuelled by constant motivation from her parents. Although she did not have access to expert coaching, Professor H C Kaliwale of Guru Guidance, a private coaching class, helped her by giving her books and allowing her to use his library.
Vaishali climbed one step by clearing the PMT exam, but a bigger hurdle loomed – arranging for the money to finance her medical education.
But here destiny seems to have intervened. Legislator Devendra Fadnavis and corporator Sandeep Joshi, in whose constituency Vaishali's house is located, have promised her all help. Besides, several non-resident Indians have expressed their willingness to send her money after learning of her success via the Internet.
Another concern is to get into a college of her choice. She wants to join the Government Medical College in Nagpur, but her family thinks that it could be touch-and-go with a rank of 44 on the merit list for the reserved category and 99th in the open category. "The second choice is Yavatmal [about 150km from Nagpur], so that we can visit her whenever we want," says her brother Mukesh. "It would not be very convenient to have her studying in a college in a distant place."
The family is quite flustered by the sudden media attention, with a constant stream of journalists at the Wankhedes'. Ever since Vaishali's story was published in the local press, she has not had a moment's respite, having to repeat it over and over again, especially for television correspondents, who all seem to want 'exclusive sound bites'! And in an area where crowds usually gather only when something unpleasant happens, neighbours gawk at this tumult, wondering what the fuss is all about.
(Rediff.com, July 2, 2004)
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A 'simple and studious' bride for Dravid

Imagine a cricketer being bowled over by a girl totally oblivious to the intricacies of the game! That's what has happened to Rahul Dravid, vice-captain of the Indian cricket team.
Dr. Vijeta Pendharkar, 27, has 'snared' Rahul, among the most dependable batsmen in the game today. However, the bride-to-be has little knowledge of the game.
"Vijeta has absolutely no interest in and no knowledge of cricket," her parents, father Wing Commander (Retired) S. P. Pendharkar and mother Jayashree, a dietician, said.
In fact, Vijeta did not even know that the wicketkeeper had to change ends after every over. "It was only when she watched some matches during the recent World Cup in South Africa that she came to know of the practice," Pendharkar said.
Although cricket does not interest her, Vijeta probably watched some games to know what her future hubby does 'at work'.
Vijeta has had a 'mixed' upbringing. She spent her early childhood at various places in the country where her father was posted during his stint in the Indian Air Force, giving her a 'forces' background. Her father retired after she passed her Class X examination from Bal Bharati school in Delhi. The family then settled down in Nagpur, and Vijeta has been leading a typical 'upper middle-class' life since.
She continued her education at the prestigious Shri Shivaji Science college in Nagpur, known to produce meritorious students. True to the institution's tradition, Vijeta came out with flying colours and faced no problems getting into the Government Medical College in the city. She went on to earn her MS (General) from the same institution in November 2002.
The Pendharkars are proud of the fact that their only daughter, the youngest of three children, got through purely on merit.
"Her scores were such that she faced no problems whatsoever," said the beaming father.
Sarita Kulkarni, a former schoolmate, described Vijeta as a simple and studious girl.
"Vijeta has had a very simple upbringing with high moral standards," according to a medicine school classmate who preferred to remain anonymous.
The sudden attention from the media appears to have flustered Vijeta's family. Her parents are trying their best to protect her privacy, even declining to reveal minor details like Vijeta's hobbies. Vijeta herself is unwilling to step into the spotlight, which she is soon going to have to share with Rahul. The Pendharkars are keeping nosey scribes politely at bay; in fact, at the door itself.
Jayashree, the concerned mother, explains: "We don't want to gain too much publicity. I am not sure Rahul's family, especially Vijeta's mother-in-law, would approve."
Unlike Rahul, Vijeta may not be able to tell a yorker apart from a googly, but is happy dreaming about the future. For now, she plans to start her surgeon's practice in Bangalore, and hopes to do well.
The Pendharkars and Dravids have known each other for long, over 35 years now. Pendharkar worked in Bangalore between 1968 and 1971, and that is when the friendship crystallised. Later, Rahul's father, Sharad, worked for a while in Nagpur.
Vijeta's co-students in medicine school remember being aware of her family's close ties with Rahul's family. They also recall that Rahul would make it a point to meet Vijeta whenever it was possible.
So is it a love marriage, after all? The Pendharkars parry the question with broad smiles.
How did the match come about?
"Rahul is a thorough gentleman. Who wouldn't want to have him as his son-in-law," Pendharkar says.
Even the traditional considerations were favourable, as Vijeta's mother Jayashree revealed: "The Dravids are from Indore/Gwalior, and are Maharashtrian Deshastha Brahmins."
However, a date has not yet been fixed for the marriage because of "Rahul's uncertain schedule", Vijeta's father informed.
Pendharkar dismissed as "sheer speculation" reports in a section of the press in Nagpur that Rahul has not yet given his assent to the proposed alliance with Vijeta.
"The marriage was finalised over two months ago. Rahul has given his consent," he says, and then bowls a dot ball: "Why else would Vijeta have been watching Rahul in action during the World Cup in South Africa?"
(Rediff.com, April 2, 2003)

‘BHARAT’ DARSHAN

HITAVADA CAPTURES A GLIMPSE OF SANJAY JOG
Free, frank and fearless, that’s Sanjay Jog, ‘Bharat’ of Ramayana serial, for you in a nutshell.
Handsome, suave, cat-eyed and fluent in five languages, Sanjay has not allowed fame and popularity to go to his head.
Born and brought up in Nagpur, except for some part of his childhood spent in Pune, Sanjay migrated to Bombay to pursue a career in films. He obtained his diploma in acting from the Filmalaya Academy of Cine-arts and TV, and followed it up with a Diploma in Direction from the same institute.
He made his debut in films while still a ‘student,’ with the Marathi film ‘Saaplaa’ (The Trap), which bombed at the box office.
He then had a series of hits to his credit, including five golden jubilees and two diamond jubilees. He has acted in over 32 Marathi, Hindi and Gujarati films so far.
He had been offered the role of ‘Laxman’ in the Ramayan serial initially, but settled for that of ‘Bharat’ because of his busy schedule. Sanjay feels that only two characters in the epic are worthwhile from the acting point of view – Meghnad and Bharat – and has derived immense satisfaction portraying the latter.
Sanjay had aspired to become an Air Force pilot, but his parents forbade him after the family lost a number of relatives, who were in the services, during the ’71 Pak war. But that hardly seems to have made any difference, as he is now ‘flying high’ in terms of popularity.
Why did he choose to become an actor, and not a doctor or engineer? “Well, for one thing, I can’t report to anyone. I like to work independently, without someone else dictating terms. This wouldn’t have been possible had I gone for technical education.” He also confesses that he does not have the ‘brains’ needed for the medical profession.
“Apart from that. I want to be known all over the world, and being a film and TV actor is the one way in which I can do it.”
He is very ‘down to earth’ in his outlook; has well-defined opinions. “I know that I will remain popular as long as the serial is being televised. When the fans mob me, it’s the Bharat that they want, not Sanjay Jog the person,” he says.
He is contemptuous of the ‘involvement’ story that his contemporaries and describes it as ‘bullshit.’ “If I was really involved in my role, I would actually murder or rape the other person, as the script demands. A man can never forget his own self. Acting is purely mechanical.
“Acting is as easy as falling off a log,” he quotes, “And anyone who can react to a situation without being camera-conscious, can act.”
Being conversant with the technical aspects of film making helps in the sense that the crew is happy with you. “I don’t have to be cued for my movements, since I know when the camera will zoom in or pan away.”
Sanjay describes himself as ‘super-superstitious.’ He is very religious minded, and prays regularly. When asked whether he would have done Bharat’s role had he been a ‘nastik,’ he shoots back, “Why not?” He adds, “Acting is my profession, and I’m being paid for the role. The role one plays, is only an image, similar to a mirror image of oneself. Your prejudices and beliefs should not affect the roles you do.”
“I would prefer to play the villain,” Sanjay says. Why? Because ‘it offers a better opportunity to display your acting capabilities, as you are not a villain in real life.”
He also has his priorities fixed. “I am financially comfortable and can afford my present lifestyle for my whole life. But I want to act for a few more years, and then try my hand at direction.”
Having picked up Gujarati and Punjabi from his friends in Bombay, why hasn’t he acted in Punjabi films so far, when he has done a few Gujarati films? “A hero’s concept for the Punjabi film makers is a tall, well-built man, which I am not. I don’t want to act in a Punjabi film and fail.
“Heroes in Marathi films were also hefty and well-built a few years ago. However, over the years, the men who play the lead have shrunk in size. I am waiting for this to happen in Punjabi films.”
His dislikes are stronger than his likes. “If I don’t get a thing I love, I don’t care much. But if I see something I hate, I will get it removed, no mater what it costs me.
“I am still very fond of theatre, but can’t get involved for lack of time. But I will do a role if it is monetarily as well as creatively satisfying. The same goes for my film roles, too.”
The recent spotlight has not affected his lifestyle a wee bit, and he is neither elated for irritated by the attention he gets. “I still eat the same food, smoke, drink, and meet my friends.”
His Hindi film “Jigarwala’ is due to be released shortly, and seven more are on the floor, five of them with the same director. And he will try his hand at direction only in 1990.
“I don’t believe in giving ‘messages’ for my fans. I’m just a normal human being, no supernatural.”
But then, people can learn a lot from his motto, ‘live and let live.’
(The Hitavada, Nagpur, December 1, 1988)

Down summery lane!

My memories of the score and three summers that I’ve seen are divided into distinct periods. The mention of summer vacations brings back nostalgic memories of Calcutta, where I was born and spent a major part of my childhood. The vacations in Calcutta, where the school sessions were in resonance with the calendar year, meant a break just as the pace of studies at school was beginning to pick up.
The vacations were meant to spare the pupils the hassles of commuting to school in the heat. But part of the fun was lost due to the fact that the students were assigned tonnes of ‘Holiday Homework” (a contradiction in terms, now that I come to think of it!!)
Most of us managed to get over the obstacle by clearing out the homework on a war footing. We would then be rendered free to pester our mothers throughout the day.
One summer, my mother decided to harness the potential in me. She taught me, over the subsequent vacations, the preparation of tea, coffee and several other recipes. Beginning with the basics at the beginning of the holidays, I would sharpen my skills to that of an expert by the time schools reopened.
Getting me to stand by her side on a stool and add ingredients under her expert eye, had been a shrewd human resources management move: it saved her the trouble of constantly keeping a tab on me and my activities. In addition, it saved her part of the daily grind. She had put the theories of human resources management into practical use long before good old Rajiv got himself an independent minister for the department.
I am, by some standards, an accomplished cook now and can hold the fort whenever the need arises. So much so, that during my occasional fits of depression, I take the daring decision to remain a bachelor throughout my life, eking out two square meals putting my culinary expertise to use.
But the thought of disappointing scores of girlfriends at one stroke deters me from my determination. In any case, I would definitely like to earn the ‘punya’ of answering the prayers of at least one of them.
Summer memory
In the later part of my childhood at Calcutta, the vacations also meant visiting the tourist attractions in the city, and the most frequented places would be the Zoo at Alipore, the Nehru Children’s Museum and Birla Technological Museum. The last named was my favourite, and I made monthly visits to the place even during the rest of the year.
One distinct memory I have of my childhood summers is the long face of my ‘mamashree’ on Sundays and holidays, when he had to stay home and miss the cool comfort of the huge coolers put up at his office – LIC. I now have several opportunities to visit the LIC office, and find that the coolers are the only ones who work sincerely throughout the day.
We then shifted to Nagpur, and summers came to assume entirely different meanings. Summer vacations meant loafing around without any care in the world, since the examination would be over by then and the only thing we could do was to keep body and soul together for our teachers to hammer knowledge into our heads in the next class.
While in high school, we spent our summer afternoons playing the game of ‘business’ (‘Byopaar’ in Hindi – the Indian version of the American ‘monopoly’).
We would spend hours trying to make our fortunes around the board, buying up properties in Bombay and building ‘houses’ and ‘hotels’ on it. The game board would be divided into several squares, and each named after famous localities in Bombay, and priced accordingly.
But the prices at which we nonchalantly bought and sold these gold-edged pieces of real estate, would definitely make any real-estate dealer gladly jump into the Arabian Sea.
As the sun tilted towards the western horizon, our enthusiasm waned for the day.
Outdoor
Then would begin a game of cricket that would last well into the late hours of the evening. Only the inability of our star batsmen to see the ball would make us draw the stumps; hunger and thirst bore little importance.
The love for cricket manifested itself in the form of an under-19 tennis ball cricket tournament one summer. The tournament tested our organisational and managerial skills to the very limit, and we came out with flying colours, to say he least, despite a few ‘crises.’ The few protests and incidents of unruly behaviour brought out the best of the crisis managers in us, and the skills have stood us in good stead even today.
I also used to spend part of the vacations exploring the city on a bicycle along with a friend of mine, who was an enthusiastic cyclist.
The two of us would bike into all odd lanes and by-lanes, trying to get to know which lane connected which road to which other road, trying to discover short-cuts and roads that would bypass busy streets.
We never got lost. We developed the skill of remembering every turn that we took, and would recall the route taken, backwards as it were, during our ride back home.
The two of us also developed our powers of observation, as we tried to remember the distinct landmarks of each locality. These powers have developed over the years, and any ‘subject’ within our eyesight undergoes a detailed ‘scrutiny’ of the ‘outstanding features.’
These outings have also helped me in my present profession of a journalist. The knowledge of the nooks and corners of a major portion of the city has obviated much of the need to ask for directions whenever I am sent scurrying to the site of an accident, or on an assignment at a vague-sounding venue.
The ability of recall the route taken has also helped me on my visits to strange cities, where one has to foot it for kilometres trying to locate the address in hand.
Nocturnal outings
The best vacation was the one after my HSC exams. I would just eat and sleep and loaf around during the day. After dinner, me and two of my ‘langoti yaars’ would get together, go for a cup of ice cream and for a walk, and we would talk about all things bright and beautiful into the wee hours of the morning, much to the chagrin of our folks.
I’ve still not gotten over the habit of nocturnal outings, and have earned quite a notoriety for being a ‘creature of the night.’
When I was studying for my diploma at the polytechnic during the last two years of my student life, I had no summer vacations, strictly speaking.
The annual examination would begin somewhere in the first week of May, and continue into the first week of June. So, while other students had a whale of a time, we pored through books and notes.
But then, we would have the last laugh. By the time we finished our examinations, schools, and, more importantly, colleges, would reopen, and we would loaf away our time while others ran helter-skelter trying to get their hands on uniforms, new books, copies and what not.
Since our session started after August, we faced to crisis because of shortage of notebooks, books, paper or anything else. Being free when colleges reopened had its own advantage. We could free indulge in bird watching, which would be particularly pleasing since the birdies would turn out in their ‘beginning-of-the-year best’!
Incidentally, it was only after I joined polytechnic that I started wrapping a cloth round my head during summer to avoid falling sick and ruining my career just when I was on the threshold of it. Till then, using any sort of protection against the blazing sun hurt my masculine arrogance, and I and my friends used to avoid wearing caps or any equivalent devices at all costs.
But things have changed. The ladies would simply wrap their ‘pallus’ and ‘dupattas’ around their heads, until a few years ago. This tendency has now given way to cute caps and attractive scarves, that add ‘chaar chhands’ to the ‘Khubsoorti’ of the fair sex.
While summer vacations meant tons of ‘Ganne ka ras’ and water melons and ice cream, it hardly bears any significance to my lifestyle now. I am caught up in such mundane matters as my basic salary, the DA, my casual leaves, my balance of earned leaves, the naggings of the boss (I don’t have a wife, thank God!), et al. Rather tragic, eh?
(The Hitavada, Nagpur, May 8, 1990.)

Elementary!

I had just become the proud owner of a brand new Yamaha RX-100, and was zooming across the town, exhilarated.Young, fun loving and without a care in the world, I spent the first day in getting a feel of the bike.The next day, I stopped at a Red light. As the light turned amber, and then green, I engaged gear, and started moving off. At that moment a huge, ferocious truck roared in from my right. Stunned, I tried to move out of its way.

* * * *

When I came to, I was lying in a hospital bed (obviously), swathed in bandages.
Near the bed, sat Sandy, my chum.“Hi, there!” he said, grinning, “Welcome to the Club! Congratulations!”
“Eh?” I groaned.
“I mean, you’ve just joined the RAPRC.”
“The what?” I managed.
“The Reckless Accident-Prone Riders Club,” Sandy informed me.I managed a smile. “Oh, that!” I squeaked.
“You’re fresh, buddy. You need a few lessons in driving. Get one thing into your brain, you fathead,” said Sandy, and then whispered conspiratorially, “The Nagpur traffic follows the Law of the Jungle – Survival of the fittest.”
“And the traffic rules?” I whined.
Sandy laughed contemptuously. “They’re for the kids to learn,” he told me, “Rely on your instincts. I’ll give you a few hints.”
I prepared myself for some bizarre guidelines.
Sandy cleared his throat, and started giving me lessons in traffic sense. “First and foremost, NEVER stop at a red light. If you see one, shoot through it.”
“Secondly, ride on the wrong side on a one-way street. Did you learn the traffic signs and signals?” he asked. “Yes, I…”“Forget them. Never use them.” I couldn’t believe my ears. “But how the…,” I started to protest.
Sandy held up his hand. “Elementary, my dear Andy! The secret is to take them by surprise. People who drive don’t look for the obvious. Their minds are on the alert for abnormalities.
“Everyone stops at a red light, but they’ll immediately spot you if you don’t, and will avoid hitting you at all costs.”
I was beginning to see wisdom in my chum’s words.
“Similarly, a vehicle going the other way on a one-way street is a danger, and everyone will give it a wide berth.”
“How true!” I said.
“As for signalling, it confuses everybody. Half the folks don’t know how to signal correctly, and the other half don’t know how to interpret them. “So, if you want to turn right, just go for it; don’t brush away imaginary specks of dust from the air and make a fool of yourself. The point, again, is the element of surprise.”
My respect for my friend increased, and I listened more attentively.
“Overtake from the left. The other chap will never let you pass from his right – because it’s obvious you’ll try. When you zoom in from his left, the guy’ll panic like hell, and get out of your way.
“Again, a word of caution. Never signal to him that you are overtaking, from whichever side you do so. He’ll always block your way. People get sadistic pleasure from preventing others surpass them." I knew. Such men should be shot at sight.
Just then, the nurse came in to check my temperature, pulse or whatever. She was stunning, devastating. But Sandy, a chronic bird-watcher, didn’t even raise his eyes. Then and there, I knew he was damn serious about what he was talking, and whatever doubts I had, were gone.
The nurse poked and pinched here and there, generally trying to make me uncomfortable. But I stayed put. She finally gave up, and left.
Sandy continued, “Exceed the speed limit by at least 100%. Everyone will hear you coming when you’re a couple of miles away, and clear your path. You’ll feel like a VVIP.
“Think of the 21st century. Imagine you want to reach it tomorrow.”
“I will,” I said, and meant it.
“And when you stop, don’t glide to a halt. Jam on the brakes. The idea is…”
“Element of surprise,” I said.
Sandy nodded approvingly, “You’re already learning!”
“Oh, yes! There’s an intersection where right turn is supposed to be prohibited,” he went on, “Whenever you pass, remember to turn right. Every smart Alec thinks he’s the only one doing so, and that nobody’ll notice, and he tries pulling a fast one.
“If you try going straight, you’ll land in crab-soup.”
“As I have now,” I said, thinking of the Chinese restaurant I would not be able to go to for a month.
“Right. Keep with the majority, turn right. That way, it’s easier for all.”
Sandy looked at his watch, and picked up the keys. “There are numerous other small details, but you can take care of them, I’m sure,” he said, “For example, keep your number plate dirty.”
“I’ve already done that,” I told him.
Sandy stood up to go. “A last word of caution. Never look a cop in the eye. They’re mind readers. And if one blows his whistle, pretend it’s for someone else. He can always find another victim.”
He started to leave, stopped, and said, “And, buddy, remember this: You are not the only one following these set of rules; hundreds of others are doing the same. They’ll try to catch you unawares. So, watch out for the surprises in your own dish: the chap who turns without signalling, overshoots a red light, and the like. They are all our brothers, believers in a common code.”
I was impressed. I thanked him, and then asked, “Hey, Sandy! Where did you learn all these things?”
He smiled, “My boy, I’m riding my bike for the last ten years. I kept my eyes and ears open!”
“Well, be seeing you! Get well soon,” and he was gone.
I lay there, trying to digest the lessons he had just heaped on me.During my stay in bed, I debated whether to put his advice into practice. I weighed all the pros and cons, and finally decided to give it a try.
The day I was fully fit, I took out my bike, and toed Sandy’s line to the last. I sprang all the possible surprises, and scared the daylights out of everyone.
And I rode happily ever after.
(The Hitavada, Nagpur, October 22, 1987.)

CONFESSIONS OF AN ACTOR

"Be sure to learn your lines by heart," the director reminded me, "The play is at 2 O'clock tomorrow afternoon." "Yes," I mumbled. I was worried. Here I was, participating in a play in our annual gathering, a challenging role offered to me two days ago, and, like an ass, I had accepted. I had not learnt my lines, and they were expecting me to work a miracle overnight.I was nervous. The other play I took part in bombed at the 'box office.' It was a laughable attempt, as a classmate of mine was told by his friend of the other species. And to think it was a comedy!
Show is on
"What the devil," I thought, "To hell with it all!" I threw caution to the winds. I read the script once, and forgot all about it till the time I put on my 'make-up.
I was to play a murderer, who, in the guise of a foolish telephone repair man, enters households and strangulates the housewives who are all alone. I dressed, picked up my bag in which were screw drivers, pliers, hammer, wires, cutters, and, just in case, the script.
The announcement was made, and the curtain went up. The show was on! As my entry drew nearer, I began to sweat. Was it the heat, or something else? Then, to make things worse, the lights went out a couple of minutes before my entry. My heart began a never-ending 100 metres dash. My knees knocked each other. My mind commanded, "On your marks … set … GO. I found myself on the stage, facing a mob … Oops! An audience.
That was a nice pickle to be in! No lights, no mikes, not learnt my lines, heat, audience, and, worst of all, the prospect of murder. But I held myself together. Said my lines right, by courtesy of the 'prompter.'
Slowly, the drama unfolded. The audience was spellbound. There were only two of us on the stage now.She was sitting on the sofa. I stepped behind her, and whipped out my handkerchief.
"Thanks for coming," she said, and stooped to pick up the keys lying on the table. I whipped the handkerchief round her throat, and squeezed. Her scream died within her throat, and then she lay limp. She was motionless! She was gone!Quickly, I removed the telephone receiver from the cradle, and picked up the bunch of keys. I held them high, and roared with laughter, a la Gabbar Singh.And then, mercifully, curtains!
I heaved a sigh of re… there was a mad scramble to congratulate me for my superb performance. All the while, I had forgotten there was an audience. I had, what they call, 'lived' the role. I had automatically drifted into the character. There was a pink jumble of faces, handshakes, pats, shoves, hugs and words of appreciation as everyone congratulated me. I felt elated.Then, my lecturers did the praises. 'Poltergeist,' 'Dracula,' 'King Kong,' 'Lady Killer,' 'Richard Burton,' 'You-can't-beat-the-man-who-shaves-with-Swish,' 'KGB Agent' – one and all! I was on cloud nine.
Then came the real fun! The dames converged on me! I was surrounded by all the pretty, pretty faces. Wasn't it wonderful? Holding out their delicate hands for me to shake. Everyone vying for my attention. "You were sooooo superb!" said one. "What a performance!" gasped another. "It was marvellous!" cooed a third. In an instant, I was a hero. And then, 'she' came to me, and … ahem! Er, oh … Oh, well, never mind! My altimeter soared to cloud 11!
Crash landing
Now came the prize distribution, and to my delight, I was adjudged the Best Actor! I was thrilled! My hard work (?) had paid rich dividends.For the next few days, I moved about in a daze.Come April, and Examination Time Tables were flashed all around the college. I plummeted down to sea level from cloud 11. I crash-landed amongst books, pens, pencils and papers. I took off my helmet, oxygen mask and all – I had been flying at high altitudes, you know. I set my foot down, burned a lot of midnight oil and became thin.Because the exam is one place where you don't have a prompter!
May God bless me with a first class. AMEN!
(The Hitavada, Nagpur, July 26, 1986)