Among the smaller states, Himachal is the best- so let’s rejoice

                                              And on this would you not like to hear this maverick blogger’s voice!?

                                              If yes then please read, share, and feel free to comment on my post

                                              And vow to do your bit for the state’s good, as you raise your toast

                         Shabash Himachal!

                    

Shabash  Himachal! Among the smaller states, ‘you’ are the best governed state says a recent survey. The reasons are obvious: We Himachalis are basically a friendly, law-abiding and non-violent people. Population density is small- of which middle class comprises the largest part.  Poverty and hunger are relatively low. Literacy rate is high. Employment wise, we are better off than many states. All these parameters put together make us a low-crime state.  Gender/caste discrimination does exist but doesn’t assume frightening levels of honour killings as in khap-dictated villages and towns of Haryana and Rajasthan. City-bred vices such as rapes and murders do often besmirch HP’s fair face and disturb its peace and tranquility but fortunately the rate and the degree are not alarmingly high. Corruption too, though extant, is limited in scale and proportion.

Further, we are a politically stable state with a two-party system- a change of government after every term having become almost a predictable and a set pattern. Most of our politicians are educated. The end of hegemonic Virbhadra’s regime, and another dynast Dhumal’s giving way to a young new leader Jai Ram Thakur, has come as a whiff of fresh air…a welcome relief. After initial hiccups because of being a new hand, I feel he is coming to grips with how to give good, accountable, efficient, people-responsive government to Himachalis.  

Needless to say, Himachal has all that a state needs to grow and prosper. It has a diverse climate, varied topography, unexplored tourist places, pilgrim-centric attractions and much else waiting to be rationally and sustainably harnessed to boost growth and development.

On the flip side, our education and health sectors are in bad shape. The successive governments – both Virbhadra-led and Dhumal-led, have a lot to answer for the present mess. Both these leaders face allegations of having made  back-door entries  in schools through ‘chits’ and whatever, stalling  fair, merit-based front-door entries for the legitimate claimants registered with the state employment bureaus. They recruited ‘vidya upasaks’, ‘parateachers’ etc. to appease party workers while the qualified ones ended up grinding out livelihoods in the exploitative and under-paid environment of public schools. Further, Dhumal, in his wisdom, made it a free-for-all for private universities without robust regulatory mechanisms for quality control. A huge overhaul is now needed at least in the school education sector. Likewise, we have poor infrastructural set-up for games and sports. One cricket stadium is not enough. We need quality coaches, playgrounds, swimming pools, synthetic turfs, tennis/badminton courts to groom young talent of which there is no dearth in Himachal. In the recently held Junior Chess championships at Tumkur near Bangalore Himachal had a very poor representation and the 3 candidates who participated would have done a lot better had they had access to good coaching. All credit to the parents of Gaurvika for travelling long miles and helping Himachal bag a trophy for the ‘youngest player of the tournament’!

Despite tall claims, health department still suffers from several infirmities. ‘108 has’ been a boon, no doubt. But we need more and better hospitals, trauma centers and medical infrastructure in the state ensuring healthcare access to remote parts of the state so that the depressing sights of critical patients being ferried on cots and carts do not recur.

And one thing more. We must preserve our ecology and environment come what may. Let there be no more Shimlas, Manalis, Kasaulis and McLeodganjes- choking and dying every day with congestion and pollution and posing a threat of mass destruction waiting to happen any day. We have to make Himachal a green model state- an oasis of serenity, purity and natural beauty at its best.

                                                 ***

                                 The recurring incidents of lynching are a matter of utter shock and shame

                                           The issue is serious, let’s address it together, and stop this ugly blame game

                                           What I post this week is nothing new but my humble outpouring on this problem

                                           Perhaps a little jarring stuff- neither so sweet , nor so very wholesome!

               Can we stop these lynchings please?

Dhule lynching victim's family: dazed and desolate (Photo taken from the IE reports)

                              

Yet another lynching incident. This time the victim is an innocent ‘techie’ out with his friends in Bidar (district) some 700 odd kilometers from the Karnataka’s cyber city Bengaluru; and near India’s another cyber capital Hyderbad. His fault?  His co-traveller friend from Qatar was trying to be nice to the local kids by distributing to them chocolates brought from abroad. Soon the rumour (that they were child lifters) fanned through WhatsApp went viral and mob frenzy took over. The trio was dragged out of the overturned car and thrashed until one of them succumbed. The police proved too inadequate and unequal to the task to avert the tragedy in the face of   bloodthirsty mob of 400-500 men: Well, if this were a solitary case of such spine chilling barbarity you might want to shrug it off as an aberration. But this is the 20^th case of lynching in just the last 3 months in the country spread by false rumours about ‘child lifters’.  

Likewise, Kathua and Unnao are not once-in-a-long-while, rare, exceptional incidents of child rapes (though terming them as mere rapes is gross understatement; mostly, these perverse sexual violations are accompanied by violence so extreme and blood curdling that one even shudders to imagine how on earth a human being could be so inhuman). Such incidents too have been happening with sickening regularity almost every other day, as we all know.

Vigilantism stalks our streets these days and fear grips the nation's psyche. On the slightest provocation fed on rumour and fanned on social networking sites violence and brutality take over the streets while the administration looks helpless and impotent. The Indian Express has done a good investigative study on the lynching incidents that have singed the nation of late. As reports suggest most of the victims of such lynchings are the poor and the innocent living in remotest parts deep in small village hamlets. They are mostly nomads or tribals living on the margins and making two ends meet the hardest way. They are voiceless, powerless, defenceless, without clout and with no mafia or political godfather to fall back upon. And as the Indian Express reports reveal those perpetrating these senseless lynchings are young boys in their teens or twenties. Most of them are school/college drop-outs. Some are primary pass and some have not even been to the school. They are either unemployed or daily-wagers and represent low income section of society. Most such lynchings were perpetrated under the influence of alcohol. 

        

Dhule lynching: the perpetrators (Photo copied from the IE reports)

While it is difficult to conjecture what goes in the mind of these people to commit such acts of extreme violence, the IE suggests that deprivation, fear, social neglect, injustices, lack of hope and purpose in life drive these frustrated youth to such criminal activities.  Desperation, it is rightly said, drives human beings either to achieve great feats or to commit most sinister crimes.

                               

Dhule lynching: Another victim's family: tears that neither stop nor  shall ever dry (Photo copied from the IE reports)

To the shocked nation, the recent Supreme Court diktat to the government to enact new laws for lynching and hold the states responsible for checking such crimes is timely and welcome. But laws alone do not prevent crimes. Have rapes stopped happening even when new and stringent laws are being enacted? We need also to address the basic issues of good wholesome education particularly at the school level (which in most states is in tatters), social justice, inclusive development, women empowerment, employment, and strict curbs on politicians who exploit religious and communal sentiments of the people to polarize society for political gains.

Then and then alone  we can aspire to be a vibrant, progressive and prosperous  India of Gandhi’s dreams  and what Tagore envisioned when he wrote those immortal lines: “Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high…”

                                                          ***

                                                          

What follows this week is the second and last post on  my Barot trip

          Read/share it please lest yours truly’s spirits this wet season, sink and dip

      It is indeed a matter of joy for me to find the ‘page-views’ steadily soar

      With readership far and wide, even if at times I might be a terrible bore

Barot revisited (2)

A view of Barot

                                    

We had to leave next morning. But before departing we went for an early morning walk towards Multhan. Multhan is a sort of shopping hub of the valley situated next to Barot on the road to Kothikorh/Bara Banghal after crossing a bridge over the gushing Lambadugh khud that joins the Uhl at Barot.  I looked down at the Government Trout Farm - a prized Barot feature - as we strode past it. It was to this fish farm that I had been dispatched by my bosses to conduct (phony) research trials on rainbow trout in the 3x2 water-deficient raceways under a project intended for mid-hills. The PWD’s log-hut – another iconic and beautiful facility for stay - looked its good old self. But an additional building that had come up adjoining it was nothing but an eye sore. Wish the authorities had taken pains to build it in keeping with the aesthetics of the log-hut and the green surroundings of the place. Again, as we walked on, the view was hardly elevating. There were private guesthouses galore flanking the road looking so clumsy and jarring to the eye. Multhan too had changed and changed for the worse with dhabas, eateries of all sorts, home stays and guest houses dominating the scene.  In short, and sad to say, city culture had invaded and destroyed this valley. We returned to the guest house in not a very happy frame of mind, got ready, had parantha-dahi-achaar breakfast and were ready to say goodbye. But before that we had to meet Ram Singh, and an old family too.

In the late 80’s, Ram Singh owned a dhaba - a tiny wood and tin shack - and the only one in Barot. To dear Ram Singh I owe gratitude for keeping me tummyful by serving me most delicious daal tadka, a sabzj and hot chapatis fresh from the tawa in those difficult days. I had the privilege of acting as a photographer at his behest on his wedding in a nearby village. Now Ram Singh’s dhaba has moved into a bigger space beside the kuchha road just opposite the government hospital, competing with a few others. But that old charm, personal touch and flavour is missing…in keeping with the times.  He was happy to meet us and insisted on a breakfast. But we had tea served by his wife looking very pleased when told about old history.

Then we went to see the family: a widow and her two daughters. They were my neighbours when on my transfer in 1986, I had found a small 2-room wooden hut to lodge in, doubling as an office! They lived close by in a twin-roomed structure too.  The old, wizened lady – ‘Amma’ for me – was a very kind-hearted woman and treated me like her own son. She tended a cow and grew potatoes and rajmah on a tiny piece of land;  my milk supplies came from her. Her daughters were adult and charming. The elder one was tall and of a robust build. Endowed with typical Banghalan features, she looked ravishing in fact. She worked (and still does) in a government department. The younger one was frail but pretty, and besides lending a helping hand to her mother in domestic/farming chores, specialized in sewing. With time I grew very fond of the family. Humble and simple, yet they lived a life of utmost dignity- happy, proud and content in their small little world: this is what had endeared me to the family. Their stone-mud, slate-roofed home though small, was always squeaky clean. On the eve of my end of ‘exile’, the trio invited me along with my two school teacher friends to a kichhdi dinner…laced with crackling hot desi ghee and homemade dahi. It was the most delicious kichhdi I ever had, served with so much love and warmth. The taste still lingers!

When we met them on the morning this time, we returned with mixed feelings. The elder daughter looked weary and had aged rather prematurely. She had been married to a local fellow owning a small shop, and now partially incapacitated by a paralytic stroke. They were issueless. The younger one had not married and looked haggard suffering from an ailment or two. Amma looked very frail as well. She recognized me at once, beamed with joy and gave me a tight hug. They had now moved to their respective new concrete homes- rather less inviting than their old dwelling. Overall, theirs seemed like not a very happy story. But the warmth in the hearts was still intact. They packed us with bagfuls of self-grown potatoes, rajmah, garlic and lungdu-achaar as gifts before we said goodbyes and clicked some pictures with them.

 This family’s struggle for survival, their ‘chin-up’, and ‘keep-grinning-no-matter-what’ attitude against all odds, was uppermost in the mind during our return journey and even afterwards. It is these doughty, resilient, underprivileged, simple, hardworking, generous, nature-friendly, pure-hearted, ordinary but proud people amongst us ( the ‘producers’) who hold the country together and keep it ticking…not the self-serving, venal ‘lawmaker’ (the top rung and the most voracious  ‘consumer’) fattening by illicit means on taxpayer’s money, I thought...and keep thinking. 
                                                                                                      (Concluded)

                                  

Yours truly with 'Amma'

                                                                       ***

                                     Went to the hill resort Barot this mid-June for a  short, one-night stay

                                       I write on how from lovely green this little hamlet has turned ugly and grey

                                      To develop tourism in our pretty hill state this is hardly the way

                                      Preserve nature; promote green assets- that I feel is the only way

Barot revisited (1)

Barot: An overview

On the 16^th of June in the afternoon, accompanied by my wife, I was on my way to Barot. This trip, in fact, was long overdue. After having served a 4-year exile on punishment posting ending in June 1990, this was going to be my first night-long stay here. I had of course been here on a few occasions in between. But those were 1- to 2-hour-stay visits to the government trout farm with the students, stifled by the responsibilities and limitations of an official tour.

 I was whelmed by nostalgia as we drove along the narrow, serpentine uphill road after diverting from the NH at Ghatasani and turned towards Jhatingari. Jhatingari is an important stopover 5 Kms from Ghatasani on the 25 Km drive to Barot. The old, familiar stands of tall, erect deodars soon came into view, casting a magic spell with their quiet majesty, elegance and beauty. From the cacophony, heat and dust of my home town, it seemed like having suddenly entered into a different world altogether: a world of solitude, a world of ethereal bliss. But there was one stark difference. This time there was a long stream of vehicles of summer-oppressed tourists from the plains – mostly bearing Punjab, Haryana, UP, Rajasthan and Uttrakhand number plates - all heading towards Barot; and quite about the same numbers on their way back.

The deodars on the way: majestic, graceful...                                

...and divine

                                                      

                                                                       

Wending our way under the grey, misty skies welcoming us with occasional feeble showers of rain, and oaks and deodars adorning the hill slopes greeting us all along, we landed at our destination a little before dusk. Off and on we would come across a chubby-cheeked, round-eyed local lad or a couple of elderly Banghalan women dressed in traditional attire selling ‘lungdu’, garlic or Rajmah by the roadside. Such sights made me wistful about the days I had spent in the soothing lap of Barot. But for its serene ambience and meditative calm and a slow, gentle pace of life, hadn't the agony and angst of this senseless, vendetta-inspired banishment  been rather hard to bear, I reflected.

                                                        

On the prisitne banks of Uhl khud: litter burning and noxious fumes

 We headed straight to the Forest Rest House past the narrow bazaar, looked after well by a kindly, amiable and hospitable chowkidar Bhagi Ram, where we had booked our room. After some rest and tea we opted to go for a walk. The bazaar still had some old little shops intact. But many had given way to glass-fronted, city-like hotels, offices and other commercial structures. Walking along further, we found dhabas and kiosks catering to all tastes and palates flanking the road. A lot many guest houses had sprung up too. Another one, looking grotesque, ugly and so out of place with its grey façade of cement and concrete etched against the graceful deodars just behind, was under construction (see photo). Tourists were aplenty. With their vehicles parked in a random, shoddy manner all around, they could be seen either roaming about munching Lay's potato chips or busy taking selfies and making videos on the right flank of the Uhl khud. Their children were having fun too cycling along on this stretch of road: obviously cycles too had made inroads and were now available on hire even at such a remote place. This road, once forlorn and used mostly by the locals for their to-and-fro domestic errands was broken at places and had turned slushy and in disrepair due to overuse. In fact this kilometer long tarred road-stretch owes its existence to the Shanan power project on Uhl with a power house at Shanan (near Jogindernagar) producing 800 mw of energy. The project is the brainchild of an ingenious Briton, Colonel Betty of the Raj era. It is a brilliant showpiece of how to harness hydropower with minimal damage to the sacrosanct hills and their pristine flora. He, I am sure, would be turning in his grave at  the present high-tech power project technology destroying all that sustains life with utter disdain to ecology and the environment. Wish there were more Bettys around now for a wiser counsel!

A new (ugly) construction underway

                                                    And where there is a tourist from our plains, can plastic and litter be far behind? Just beside the Uhl, on is wide, grassy bank, a fellow was busy burning the collected garbage- the noxious fumes fouling the cool, crisp Barot air. We took a long stroll along this road which ends at the 'trolley-way' point. (This narrow rail track was originally designed to haul and transport material for the construction work from Jogindernagar and is yet another master stroke of innovation and ingenuity.) Taking in the entire scene with mixed feelings, we returned to the rest house when it was already dark. We sat on the upper veranda which afforded a wonderful view outside. The Shanan reservoir lay stretched right in front of us- a picture of tranquility and soothing calm. As gushes of air kissed wet and cool and crisp by its merry, playful waves  caressed us nursing our weary, jagged nerves to the best of health, I hummed the sweet Panjabi song: सिल्ली, सिल्ली, औंदी है हवा...! It felt divine to just sit there, sipping beer and reflecting on life untrammeled by worldly affairs. Later, Bhagi Ram served us simple but nice daal-sabzi-roti dinner and we retired to the room for a good night’s sleep.
                                                                                                                                                  (Concluding part next week)

Another view of the green Barot valley

                                   

                                         

                                         ***