Arunachal 3

I really felt that I would be able to cover Arunachal in two articles but it's so beautiful that just to  wind it up, would be great injustice to the land.

Tawang monastery is second largest in the world, the largest in India, and is enshrined by Dalai Lama himself after he visited it in November 2009. In spite of strong protests by China he was welcomed by the locals whole heartedly and Indian Government stood behind them stoically. In war of 1962 China had occupied the monastery for 6 months ! [ In fact most of Tawang district was taken by China in 1962 war, later about that .]

Monastery in  itself is a small village, having many houses where citizens still reside along with monks, which are around 400 in number.

 

Being situated at the height of 10000 feet, the view of Himalayas from the monastery is truly liberating in every aspect.

We also visited a monastery on the way meant only for women monks. A small girls was practicing Monpa alphabets in full earnestness. The lady monk who was attending to her was asked, 'Are these Chinese alphabets ?'. She was incensed to the core, retorted bit angrily. 'Why should she learn Chinese? These are our alphabets like Ka Kha Ga  in Hindi !'
The Tibetans who fled from China after 1959 annexation still hope that they may return to their homeland. Considering China's power today, in all respects, the hope seems bit far fetched.



Tawang War memorial was next halt. The one whose eyes do not get wet after listening to the officer who takes you on the tour , is not a true Indian ! More than 2600 Indians gave away their lives in one way war. In 1962, we were so ill equipped , that in the end it was one to one war with daggers ! And every part of India made its sacrifice. Likes of Kanhaiyakumar who blurt in Delhi about the freedom must be given a tour of this war experienced part of India, or made to serve in army at least for an year or so, after which they would not utter a word about freedom of any kind in or out of Indian ethos !



What is being Indian? I don't know. As a common man I can't define it within the frame work of our constitution. I don't know whether RSS's patriotism is laced with Hinduism and Leftist's is not, all I came to know about my being Indian is, when the officer described the bravery of Indian soldiers, it gave me goose pimples and   choked my throat !




On the way to Kaziranga we visited a water fall, named after other female accomplice of Param Veer Chakra winner Hon. Jaswant Singh Rawat, Nura. Nuranang falls. The myth  that goes is, after the death of Jaswant Singh and Sela in the war, Nura went into depression and committed suicide by jumping from the top of the fall , so the name .

 The river below too is known as Nuranang river and has all the beauty that Himalayan rivers have.

 While passing through the Himalayas we passed through many small Monpa villages. In one such village the Monpa urchins oblivious of the intruders went on playing with their game of hide and seek. Though the common staple food is rice, one of the houses had corn on the cob hanged outside to dry, for use in rainy days.

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The last halt in Arunachal was, Orchidarium at Tipi which is 3rd largest in the world having around 7500 orchids from 300 species.

 This one was unique in its own way. On closer look , it turned out that it has flowers within flower.

 

 It was impossible to have even cursory look at every variety so when eyes cooled off we decided to turn back to the bus to take  arduous travel again. To say goodbye to Arunachal was difficult. It brought so many moments back, laced with a tinge of sadness because of loss at the war, at the same time the feeling of oneness with the locals that we almost forgot that we have to leave.

On the way back it was same tortuous road zigzagging through the Himalayas, only difference was the absence of snow ! The climate was very pleasant but the shiver that went through the bones was missing, and we really missed it, it had given that much zing !

Arunachal 2

Oops ! I goofed up.The confusion occurred because of enormity of the travel and the similarity of Himalayan ranges. In fact travel from Tezpur to Bomdilla has nothing specific to offer except those wild bananas. Yes there is one this Nag mandir which we visited actually on our way back but the story behind it befits any 3rd grade Bollywood pot boiler like 'Revenge of Nagin. Part 3, so nothing great to write home about.  All the happening things are on the road from Bomdilla to Tawang ! So far what we did was just travel, travel and travel for more than 40 hours. Now it was time to explore Arunachal.

Bomdilla is a sleepy town not thickly populated. Like any hilly town it too is settled on different levels. Being at higher altitude, in winter months it's either covered under snow or clouds.







 

My bubble about rest in Bomdilla, burst in no time.Tawang which is THE place of Arunachal, was still a day's travel away, that too in the mountains again.On the way to Tawang we visited a smallish monastery of Bomdilla. 

Young ones are indoctrinated into Buddhism and are taught at the school run by the monks. This young one refused to utter a word, may be because of extreme cold !

One has to lunch on the way while in travel as the distances are  cumbersome. From Bomdilla to Tawang it's more than 150 kms, that too again up the mountain , down the valley. Its takes around 6 to 7 hours to reach Tawang depending on the climate.The dhaba that served the food served typical all Indian food and not the cuisine of the locals. I actually wanted to taste it ,but that's what you get when you travel en mass. Surprise was Karela bhaji cooked in typical Marathi style.May be it was asked for ! The staple food all over Arunachal is rice with Yak meat. Of course we were never served Yak meat, but we devoured the milk  of Yak cow !

We named her Yakee ! Her milk is thicker ,sweeter and bit salty than the usual milk available elsewhere so the tea without sugar too tasted sweet ! Yak seems to be a mixture of bull and buffalo but has more fur, naturally ! 

Tawang , stands in turmoil even today due to variety of reasons. China border is just a few kms away and danger of annexation to China still lurks large over the head of every Tawang Resident !  The main reason for political dispute is, Tawang was considered part of South Tibet during British regime and the controversial MacMahon line was always refuted by China.

So when China annexed Tibet  it was claimed by China that Tawang too, automatically should come along. But due to India's presence of mind it did not happen, so the perpetual unrest ! Situation today is more delicate. Actual border being not there, the imaginary line between the two soldiers, one Chinese and other ours, is the the only international border between 2 countries .If Indian one recedes even a few steps and Chinese comes forward a few steps there forms a new boundary ! And that's why our army has to guard it 24 *7 relentlessly without even blinking for second ! Extremely stressful and difficult task !

Tawang and its surrounding area has 20 different types of tribes, Monpa being prominent and in large numbers. Monpas resemble Tibetans and seemed amicable. On the way 3 young girls waived at our bus for hitch hiking, as it was extremely cold we allowed the driver to let them in ! And within no time our small bus was filled with laughter , continuous giggling like any other teenager was their hall mark. And to our utter surprise they burst out in Bollywood songs in melodious voice ! And how many songs they knew !                                             

                                                                             Common Tawangian on the street , though does not have any thing in common with the rest of India, be it a language, culture, religion, their very own Mongolian features, and though does not allow you to peep into his mind [ probably ?],  always treats you politely and converses in Hindi [ That too is a surprise] ! Every single one praises Indian army for protecting them from the would be onslaught of China but nonetheless every body seems to be aware of the developments carried out by China just across the border in Tibet ! In comparison, India seems to be just surviving. So what lies behind those chinkey eyes still could be a mystery !

But there is a difference, even corroborated by the army men whom we met time and again, naturally it has got tremendous presence in Arunachal, every mile or two there is an Army check post. Some even Marathi from Satara or A'Nagar ! In Kashmir though the scenario seems parallel locals always abuse army in spite of always being helped by it, here army men too vouched for good heartedness of the locals. 

Just stone's throw away from town of Tawang there are few beautiful lakes. But like any other word in Indo/Burmese or Tibetan languages the pronunciations are tongue twisters. Two or three consonants come together with hardly a vowel in it. So the lake that we visited was Ptso or Pankang Teng Tso lake. Shonga-Tser lake was bit away but because of incessant snowing we could not proceed further. Heartening thing was , because Madhuri Dixit did a dance number here for Bollywood film 'Koyala' now it's known as 'Madhuri' lake.

Nonetheless Ptso lake too was picture perfect. Fortunately when we reached, clouds took retreat and the sun came out of perpetual veil and then whatever became apparent was simply breathtaking !

But the favor by sun the almighty was not to  last long so within 20 minutes or so the entire terrain got covered in fog and the lake again went behind the veil !

P.S: I am not a researcher or student of political sciences. The views expressed here should be taken strictly as common man's , as first impression without any bias whatsoever.

Arunachal 1

Arunachal. The farthest state in north east of sovereign nation called India. My India.It shares its borders on north with China, on west with Bhutan and on east with Burma. Once you say Arunachal it connotes distance for somebody staying like me, on this side of India. And that's it.  Far, distant, distant in every aspect. Travel, language, people, culture. every thing. 

There is nothing that directly connects Itanagar its capital or Bomdilla or Tawang its major towns to the rest of India. Recently Army has built a highway that reduces the distance to Tawang which goes through Bhutan but is only for the use of army. Common man has to take a tortuous hilly road starting from Tezpur in Assam. Taking in to consideration its strategic international position, a bit precarious one, even genuine Indian citizen from other parts has to take special permit from Army to enter Arunachal , Known as ILP. [Inner Line permit]. 

Though tortuous, narrow, hilly, treacherous whatever you may call, but the road from Tezpur to Bomdilla is just picturesque. Slopes on one side and deep valleys on the other all the way to Bomdilla never allow you to sit idle. Surprise to me was, it has heavy plantation of banana trees on its slopes. A very rare sight on any other mountains in other parts of India. Entire slopes of mountains after mountains are covered with these wild bananas. Surprisingly hardly any bore fruits. Normally banana plantations are mostly done for commercial purpose but here nature had it in bounties without any caring eye taking care of the most devoured fruit all over the world.. After inquiring around it turned out that most of the plants are males and the female plants are rare to come by. Mostly spread by asexual route known as sucker. The fruit has bigger seeds than the normal banana and tastes almost the same. Just to add to knowledge even if wild bananas are not taken in to account India is the largest producer of bananas. Hurrey !

Out of literally thousands, we could locate this rare one in the deep jungles some where on the way.

Picture post card scenery does not cease to wow ! As we climbed higher and higher mother nature unfolded her treasure in heaps and bounds. Trees bereft of leaves stood tall against the cloudy sky while the mountain ranges chided clouds to touch them at the summit. which obviously they could not.

After many mountains up and many valleys down we reached the peak on the road to Tawang,Sela pass, named after a brave woman accomplice of brave Indian Rifleman Jaswant Singh of Garwhal regiment, martyr of Indochina war of 1962. Sella pass was totally under snow. At 13700 meters in March it was not unexpected. Unexpected was the skidding of one of our vehicles. Roads were absolutely slippery as snow had turned into ice and was not allowing the tyres to have the grip.More the driver tried to move , more it skidded and started its march towards the slopes of  deep valley on the Right. We held our breaths, many hands went up in the air to pray and Montoo the ace driver of our bus jumped out and singlehandedly managed the show. His skill to maneuver the vehicle was par excellence and he executed it like a magician with swift hands, and once the bus hit the right tracks every body heaved a sigh of relief and shouted hip hip hurray for Montoo.

The lake on the other side of the pass, also known as Sela lake, is very beautiful sight to watch very soothing to the eyes.It's mostly frozen in winter, so much so that one can ski/skate on it. For us the climate was just right, though snowing heavily it was not as cold for shiver to reach the bones. So the Sela lake was still not frozen. But some one probably heard it and cursed because as we climbed down at Jaswant memorial to have small snack and tea, cold caught us like nothing before. My hands were shaking so much that half of the tea spilled out of the cup.Hastily I wore the gloves and held the smallish cup in two hands, a task by itself, but to  take it to the lips was a mammoth effort.

Rifleman Jaswant Singh had no one to help when Chinese Army descended upon Sela pass in 1962 17th Nov. He, barely in his 20s ,along with his two female accomplices Sela and Noora, fought a valiant battle and killed more than 250 Chinese soldiers. Chinese were so flummoxed that they  failed to understand from where the guns were being fired in reality there was only one. He gave up only after all the ammunition was over and breathed his last under a tree that's still worshiped. This memorial is built to commemorate his valor. His mother received his full pay till the date he would have retired, unfortunately she died before, so his niece inherited the honor.
By the time we reached Tawang it was getting dark though only around 4 or 4.40 in the clock. Somebody said, 'It's East.' Yes it was east. 

Selfie !

In many Hollywood movies after a major emotional upheaval one is asked, what he or she is going to do next. The answer that comes out is very solemn.I am setting out to find myself. May be for a year or so I will take sabbatical , may be, go to India on the banks of Ganges, Banaras or Tibet to live with Lamas to find who  am I ! Who am I ?

Indians never have this luxury. They run chore after chore to fulfill the duties assigned to them by society, culture, religion. They don't have time to search themselves, to peep inside to look for what they are !

Really who are we, not as westerners,  nor as Indians. I was trying to explain my inner turmoil to a friend who burst out laughing as if I have gone mad. I had asked him, ' We say , this is my arm , this is my head, this my nose. All these organs seem to be different but the common factor that binds them is 'My'. Meaning this 'My' is different than arm, head, nose, yet it definitely is part of the entire imbroglio. This Me defines my entire stature but who decides this Me.'

I have seen my own children, children of my siblings, my friends, growing up since they were tiny new born babies. They were not that old enough, yet they showed so many characteristic traits which later became  major part of their persona when they matured into adults. In many instances the exposure to the surroundings was same, being brought up in the same family with same values but in the end everybody turned out to be a totally different individual in his/her own right, of course not bad or good but different.

In the class where my tiny tots were sent, one or two bullies were always there, mind you at the age of 3 to 4 yrs, and many meekly surrendered to their atrocities, even innocent, like pulling the hair, putting color on the clothes, nonetheless atrocities in the end. What makes them to do so, and what makes others to surrender to them ? XYY, XXY whatever is not the only answer.

We grow as we age. We start becoming an individual in our own right. By 16,17,18 we develop our own opinions about ourselves and the world around us. Who and what steers this, not change but the entire building up of a character? That 'Me'. The one that forms an entire world with 'Me' at the center. With his/her personal thinking process, outlook , an opinion about his/her inner self. Id, Ego, Super ego may be scientific terms just to define the method, but what forms Id why Ego is so strong or why Super Ego develops in few and completely lacks in some. Psychology may not have all the answers.  

The decisions can never be good or bad, it's the results which are correct or wrong. But who makes us to take those particular decisions at that particular juncture which may change the entire course of the journey. We may call it intelligence, may be application of logic, but how does it develop in certain people and others are deprived of the faculty even if they are traveling in the same boat. Or is it extremely random ? Right man, at the right place at the right time. If it's so what's the propriety of that being Me. Learned Me.

Many many questions. I am not a philosopher neither am I trying to fit in the shoes of those saints who faced the same dilemma while confronting the life. In fact no body confronts the life as there is 'No choice', you just go through the rigmarole  with your inbuilt capacity to tackle. And how that is built up is another question ?!

    

 

Pappu: Must resign: from the Indian politics

India is the only country where merit does not count almost in all the fields. Politics topping the list unabashedly. To be frank, Pappu shouldn't have been there in the first place because apart from his pedigree he does not have any qualification to speak off.[Only when he speaks off, invariably he puts his foot in the mouth, his own mouth that is, that's apart ! ] [Explanation for the beginners.] At the drop of the hat he keeps on asking for the resignations of one minister or the other, even democratically elected P.M. Mr Modi is not spared at times, it would be worth that he steps down from the post, whatever, he is holding with the immediate effect because all the facade now is exposed with Headley coming out with naming of Isharat Jehan as LeT agent.
Of course, the juggernaut has started rolling, so, much dust is going to be in the air, but one thing, that has become clear is,  Isharat Jehan does not seem to be what she was being painted, by her so many fathers  [Pun unintended.][ Oh I forgot the word God ], or should I say, caretakers. Whatever, she had many sympathizers from very local, Mr Jitendra Avad to little less local Mr Sharad Pawar to national Mr Nitishkumar.  The most intriguing part is that it's made amply apparent by many institutions that in the information revealed by Mr Headley now, nothing is new. He had disclosed about Isharat long long ago when he was interrogated in the U.S. of America. If such is the case, the Point of grave concern is, if the previous government was knowing about the true picture why did they hound the Gujrat Police? Why did CBI give clean chit to Isharat, under whose pressure the whole operation of 'Malign [right from] Mr Modi to Mr Shah to Gujrat police' was carried out? Pappu is still crying hoarse about the injustice. Haha!
The second point of serious, really serious concern is, the Youth Wing of JNU, that's definitely patronized by Pappu and his party condemns hanging of Afzal Guru shamelessly under the guise of cultural program. As we all know that Afzal Guru was a Kashmiri Muslim,[ so many layers of politics, national pride ? to hell with it ] who had planned an armed attack, on the most sacred institute of Indian Democracy, the Parliament, which by the timely intervention of the Indian forces was aborted and he was caught red-handed. His crime was proved in the highest institution of justice of this country, The Supreme Court and was executed by his own government. And Pappu holds the second-highest post in such an outfit! And he is asking for justice?  Haha!
Sorry, any loss of life is a thing to be felt sorry for. But Mr Rohit's death was politicized beyond shame by Mr.Pappu and company. The English language Prestitutes who always want P.M. Mr Modi to be painted in a bad light, came to his help and the entire episode was turned in to free for all fracas  'la wrestling ring' style! The fog was deliberately created so the true picture never became evident. His organization though had Dr Ambedkar's name, functioned not only for Dalits but covered many other political issues not concerning Dalits at all, condemning Yakub Memon's hanging was one of them. A fact that was not duly highlighted by the English Prestitutes [in fact was hidden from the public eye deliberately, ] but went on harping about his Dalit card which later on turned out to be false. He was an OBC converted to Christianity! Again a piece of information, deliberately withheld, he still is referred to as 'Dalit student'. We in Maharashtra are really fortunate enough to not get the 'Farmer's suicides' on the caste basis! So far so good, God knows when Pappu will be briefed by Diggibaba in this respect and He may really come out with it!
Last but not least. Nowhere in the world, it's a done thing. The students deciding who their dean should be! In FTII ultra [ over ] smart, openly Left-wing students go on strike against Mr Gajendra Chuhan's appointment as the dean. They shouted saffronization!  Never heard them shouting ' Commies are coming ' in the past ever. It's not the first time they had gone on strike, even when stalwarts in theatre and films, like Mr Girish Karnad and Dr Mohan Agashe headed the institute, they had made the institute standstill.  So calibre, artistic potential of the person in the chair was never an issue. And Pappu jumps in the fray! Thunders,' RSS instrumental in bringing Mr Chauhan '. I am not a practising Hindu, but the work done by RSS on the social front is just phenomenally exemplary. Even their distractors must agree. And this lad, with his half genes Italian, what does he really know about the genuine Indian ethos and the RSS!
Enough of this monkey play now. Pappu must step down from whatever post he is holding in whatever organization, that is bullying the country with the strength of only 40!

Being A Doctor Part 2

After reading a few comments on my last blog I am really perplexed, but thanks, it motivated me to continue further.
This is neither justification nor defence of my profession in any way, I just would like to change the perspective in general, in my own small way, if I can.
I am going to restrict myself strictly to the way I became Doctor, that is on pure merit. I myself don't like, neither I am party to any other ways of admission to Medicine or for that matter any other course where merit must count.
The boys and the girls who shine in their 12th, are the cynosure of all the eyes before they enter the Medicine but as soon as they come out of Medical school, they become Money sucking leaches without any morals and responsibilities towards society, in the eyes of the society which itself is sick to the core. I have a strong objection to this very thinking. These are gifted lads and lasses coming from good families, with good family values and with their heads firmly on their shoulders where they should be. Overnight they can not become Shylocks.
This profession is mostly maligned due to bad publicity by the presstitutes. In all Medical schools, say KEM of Mumbai for example, thousands of patients are treated every day with exemplary results but one bad case and right from the Politicians with dubious past and morals to the press that's always hungry for sensationalism rather than the true facts and the common man who does not understand the intricacies of Medicine as science with all its shortcomings, jump into the fray relentlessly and ask for their pound of flesh even if the Doctors are not at fault. It's just a statistics and it is applicable to Medical field like any other, that 100% results can not be guaranteed. On the contrary, Medicine is not mathematics, so one plus one could be from two to eleven, with so many factors operating on the human body many of which are still unknown to mankind. Unfortunately, this is the way the things are, which neither politicians nor presstitutes explain to the Indian patient who is more gullible, illiterate than his counterpart from the developed countries. On the contrary, they exploit the feelings of the deprived to their benefit and make the matters worse for everybody. Because in the end if the doctors are right, mostly they are, the one who suffers the most is a poor patient or his relatives. But to start with the doctors suffer unnecessarily. Their morale gets affected and the hospitals come to standstill because every other day doctors are getting bitten up left, right and centre for no fault of theirs irrespective of the law, that at the most is like a toothless tiger existing only on the paper.
It's not that the ball is never in the Doctors' court but the law of averages that applies to the society, in general, applies to the doctors too. If 10% of the society is bad then you will definitely find 10% of doctors on the wrong foot. But those who are caught are projected so much that we lose the perspective of the entire scenario.
Nobody, nobody in India feels that sickness is part of life, part of living and one must make necessary provision for the same. Even those, literate ones, who opt for Medical insurance feel, it's a waste of money if they don't get the money back what they have paid as premium.  I have got so many requests from such individuals to get them admitted only because they are medically insured just to claim the monetary benefit by inflating the bills.  Those who shout against the Medical profession should work on this thinking first.
It's a law that needy should get the treatment if required in an emergency until the further managements are made. But it's not clear who is going to foot the bill for disposables, medicines, services that are used when nothing comes free for the Doctors or their institutions. On the contrary Electricity, boards count even small hospitals as commercial ventures and charge accordingly. No concessions for Humanitarian work! As Government thinks it is in an emergency .
The medical bill in its entirety mostly comprises of 1. Cost of the Medicines 2. Pathological Investigations 3. Bed charges and so many other mundane things, with doctor's share amounting to not more than 10%, but it's the Doctor who takes the flack.
When the Government asked to dispense the drugs/medicines under generic names, it were not the doctors who objected but the pharmaceutical companies who cried the wolf. Should it happen, simple paracetamol that is costing Rs Three at present would come down to thirty paise? Nobody seems to be fighting for this cause, including the government, the pharma companies, the chemists and druggist till the last shackle in the chain, the consumer bodies. Unfortunately, I have seen it many times that the patient who pays for these drugs through his nose, haggles for the doctor's fees, in fact, which should not be negotiable. Many a time I have felt like a vegetable vendor on the corner, fighting for his last cent. In such cases, I just give up on my fees rather than lowering my self to the level of cheap bania. [ Caste and profession not intended, attitude is what I mean. ]
As of now, no science is perfect, it's only change that's constant. Medicine is no exception.  With the explosion of knowledge Doctors themselves are finding it difficult to cope up with the splurge of knowledge, so the advent of super specialities. A development common man on the street is failing to understand. Maybe because he has a shoestring budget but that's not the fault of the doctors. If the ailment requires further intervention, it has to be carried out. period!
A dictum, which is applicable to every walk of life is, ' If you want quality you have to pay for it.'  So if you don't have monies in your pocket,  treatment in hospitals like Hinduja or Jaslok is not available for you, period. You have to go to the public hospitals where it may not be possible simply because of sheer numbers. But isn't it applicable to every walk of life? Tea available on a street-side cart is no different in a big way than the one offered at Taj, but nobody has created any ruckus about the pricing, to my knowledge at least. All Indians want Hinduja like treatment, if possible free of cost, thanks to our socialistic attitude that has spoilt us beyond repairs, but if not, at the lowest possible Municipality rates. That too may be possible theoretically but then what about the bed strength, qualified staff, equipment, ultra-modern gadgetry, medicines and so many other things that do not come cheap! Who should pay for it, even if the minimum? Think about our needy over-sized population too, at this juncture.
A society that accepts, no welcomes the likes of Salman Khan or Sanjay Dutt is a sick society. And it's heinous to compare the doctors with these criminals [ one proved, other on the anvil ] Are we not observing the decay in the moral fibre of the society all around us? A noble profession like 'Education' is grabbed by the thugs who proclaim to be Kings of Education, and the real teachers are reduced to lowly paid pawns. The nomenclature Social worker has become a mockery of the real one. Goons have captured all the legislative bodies and nobody can raise even an eyebrow for the fear of life. Inept morons dream to hold the highest post in the country and we can do nothing!
In such a situation how can one expect only doctors to be above all, it's unfair.

Two Feet In The Past

BBC used to run a program titled ' One Foot in The Past' a few years ago. It used to take the viewers on a trip of the past with a bit of nostalgia thrown in. 

After Namo ascended the throne, maybe not his doing but, many Indians are now on a euphoric trip of the past, Indian past only, almost landing there on their  two feet, hence the title' Two feet in the past.' No nostalgia here, 'chest-thumping in utmost glee' is the attitude! Suddenly everything Indian has become not only classic but somebody not buying the entire idea may be labelled as Non-Indian, unpatriotic. Is it a new phenomenon or was it always there? I always palpably felt it for years but now it seems that it has got vent to come out.
Being an Asian country, India too inherited a lot of baggage on her back, of the multitude of religions, the traditions, closed minds and the greatness that was blurry at the most, but to take [pseudo] pride in its glory was always the thing to boast! Nothing of that glory remained by the onslaught of time but the pride was always there! Except for a mention on the pages of obscure scriptures [ by Indians only], the rest of the world just did not notice it. Neither we had concrete proof of our glorious past, inventions, progress and hints of highly advanced civilized society, nor could we prove it to the world beyond doubt, like Egypt did.
Over the years we progressed but as my friend's father had said once, 'We got the industrialization but  the revolution that is supposed to come along, just did not step on the Indian soil.'  Or did he say Indian mind? We always remained plebeians at the heart.
It's an observation that one who is mediocre always brags more. Really intelligent one is deep enough to understand the shallowness of bragging.
We brag that our civilization is great because of its traditions, religions and culture. The Same culture to date does not allow women to enter certain religious places. And here in India, it surprisingly works in unison, transcending all the religious and sectional barriers.
We have such a strange decoction of cultures that you maybe belonging to different religions but the core remains the same. So India has Brahmans in Goan Christians and all the sub-castes of Hindus are seen in Indian Muslims too.  The religions that are supposed to be caste-less! This happens only in India.
More disturbing is the fact that education does not alter the scenario even by a small dent. Highly educated professionals from all walks of life, not only from  Medical sciences but also from engineering, commerce and others, take pride in following these vacuous Indian traditions that defy normal, sane behaviour.
Thus I know many a surgeon who cleanse the operation theatre spiritually before taking the patient on the table and those who hold a degree like MBBS prescribe medicines which don't have any authenticity but only because they are pro ported by Ayurvedic cult.
An engineer from the south who runs an atomic plant at Kalpakkum does not venture out in Rahu kalam. Or MBA from Ahmadabad does not bat an eyelid while accepting the dowry from equally qualified same caste girl.
In India, marriages are still not bonds between two budding romantics but a dry liaison between two families where boy's family always holds the upper hand, not leaving any opportunity to fleece the bride's family monetarily as well as emotionally and that's traditional Indian culture for you!
Every walk of life, is littered with so many idiosyncrasies, that I really wonder why we call our culture the great?  Religion so hopelessly intertwines with every aspect of life, be it medicine, social life, festivals and last but not the least the politics,  that it has now become impossible to segregate them.
China and Japan have done that. They, especially Japanese follow their culture with due respect no doubt, but do not allow it, to interfere with its scientific, political and commercial milieu. In China Hon. Mao Tse Tung did that, maybe forcibly but now nobody can see China in the eyes on every front. They do have their one foot in their glorious past but other is marching forward, towards a brilliant bright future!
On the contrary, we Indians, keep on taking the pride in our glorious albeit unproven past,[ that may be a moot point, so even with proven past,] and refuse to come out of the history that has given us nothing but caste wars, draconian misogynist traditions and bleak future. Why are we so obsessed with history? It's a presence that makes the future. If we want to have rosy tomorrow we have to discard the notion that we were great and then,  have to start literally from the scratch with a blank slate, work very hard and  say 'We will be great'
Till then we are having both our feet firmly in the past!

Being a Doctor

In India an adolescent around 16 -17 is made, practically forced, to make a decision about his/her entire life which can not be changed even if he/she feels afterwards that it doesn't suit him/her, that's the way our system is! Does someone at 16/17 have that much maturity to think for life that in most modest terms is complex?  I asked many of my colleagues, why did they opt for this profession and the answers were more varied than the rainbow. I myself, why talk about the others, went for Medicine because I could not decide and certain options were just not available. Of course, there are few who are more mature for their age, but they are really few and are gifted ones!

After spending 45 years in the field I can, bit proudly say that I did justice, in my own, whatever, way to the profession, but it took me several years to understand really what I was into. But if .. big if, I am given a chance to change would I? Yes. Big yes. In today's scenario having the same IQ, or whatever yardsticks you use to measure the intelligence, if one opts for Medicine at 17 and other goes for any other course, say IT, Engineering, CA, Medicine fellow slogs so much till his 30s, that by that time others could easily become millionaire, that's the first.

The hardships one has to face for getting into the course at every level are phenomenally tough whether at an Undergraduate or Postgraduate or Super speciality level. And they don't end even after you clear out with flying colours. Sons of big daddies who have spent crores on getting their lads into Medicine, have it so easy that right from the degree to post-graduation to ready-made hospital, everything is laid on the red carpet, they just have to step on! Those from the categories more or less opt for the government jobs which come to them as if served on the silver platters. But someone like me coming from the middle class with pure merit as his only asset has to toil so much, that the entire ordeal becomes, that's it, the ordeal! So Class discrimination is the next! But does the patient know, whether he is being treated by the really meritorious deserving one or by someone who is there only because of his caste or his daddy's big money!

I envy my friends from other professions for one more reason. Those at my level of field experience [ and age of course ] have to deal with somebody with equal IQ, expertise and experience.  

Me? Even at this age and with the vast experience I have to deal with, from an illiterate grandmother in her late fifties to freshly passed out IITian oozing out with internet knowledge with equal elan, to tell you the truth simply, it's difficult. Damn difficult to attain a different level of sainthood [ practically] for two differently-abled patients.

I may accept to a certain extent that the whole institute of 'Family Doctor' is definitely eroding fast but the doctors are not entirely responsible for it. In India, two professions are not entitled to make money. Poor teachers and Doctors. Theirs are professions, rest are businessmen. So if Bania on the corner loots everybody in the broad daylight that's allowed but it's like, 'Doctor always catches you in the corner' because we don't make a budget for the sickness!

Being a doctor has so many connotations, but the worst is ' Nobody treats [ ! ] the Doctor as a human being. Either he's a God or a Satan, never a simple human being like every other person or professional. If he makes you well in the least amount of money, in shortest possible time he is a GOD but if he does not then the hell breaks loose on him, he is no less than the Satan! At this juncture everybody conveniently forgets that ' The pt was your old mother in her 90s', 'The disease was chronic and does not have remedy', 'We are in India with African facilities and American knowledge.' and here it sucks, really sucks. Even after practising for more than 40 years I still dread that one bad case and I am doomed. That's being a Doctor!

Encounters of the non-veg kind.

Being born in a Vaishnav Brahman family from Narayan Peth Pune, next of the kin to much-maligned Puneri Sadashiv Peth Brahman tribe, even words like 'meat, fish, chicken' were aeons away, forget about getting near the actual thing. Devouring them was actually considered the sin of the severest kind. Those who 'Ate' were looked down upon, and were treated as if they were from a lower stratum and it was made unashamedly apparent by kinking the noses. Somewhere down the line animosity started diluting over the years, at least in my family, maybe my father was instrumental in doing so. He was sort of rebel in the generation which was neck-deep in the rituals of religion. He was atheist in the '40s ! Eggs were the first to enter the kitchen from the back door. Initially boiled only. But to dispose of the shells was a task by itself. Wrapping them in layers of papers before throwing them in the common dustbin was a work of great skill and art! Omelet was strictly no no as it gave away the secret by emanating the smell 'THE' smell. It too was overcome and then started the real encounters of Non-veg kind!
Actual conversion from staunch veg to non-veg came much later. Almost like a baptism into a new religion. It was literally adventure tinged with curiosity about the forbidden sin. Don't remember exactly when I tasted the real non-veg for the first time, but definitely remember what it was.  Prons. The prons. Don't know whether they were cleaned properly or not but my guts went into overdrive after consuming them, even though a small morsel and the results were disastrous, to say the least!
But after dealing with the first encounter like a victor, it then was a limitless voyage into unforeseen territories, conquering every port on the way. Chicken is the easiest port to win for the beginners. It comes under the section fowl and we had bizarre fowl in Malaysia. Just opposite the condo where we stayed in Lang Kawi, there was this small shanty like food stall which served authentic Malaysian food. Never fond of hackneyed and bland 5-star fare, we always preferred such joints when on vacation, to have the real flavour of the place. He served a bird named Piyu, not bigger than an outstretched palm, coated with some batter and deep-fried in its natural pose, that is, wings spread out, legs in their place with claws daringly open, neck stretched and beak in its place on the intact head! We wanted to try it but the valour fell short for 3 days, in succession. On the day to leave we gathered all our wits and ordered 'Fried Piyu'. Well, it was definitely not a disaster but not a great shake either, it's flesh was sweetish but tough to chew. All in all 'THE' adventure went insipid like a toothless tiger!
Red meat comes as lamb, pork, beef, veal and mutton as we Indians call it, and the ways to cook it differ so much that it may make you like or dislike it, on how it is done. Once on a flight, I was served beef unknowingly as the stock of chicken got over and because the flight was longish, more than 9 to 10 hours at a stretch, I had to make with it. It turned out to be rare done! Harder, I tried to chew it, slimier it became and then it was rolling in my mouth just like a rubber ball most undercooked! I had to gulp it down with glassful of water. It made me vow, No 'Rare done' again! But 'Gulati Kababs' served in restaurant 'Jaffran' are so delicious that they just melt in your mouth making you forget that it's red meat, always tough one to chew and swallow!  
Seafood from crabs to squid to different fishes was difficult fort to win to start with, mostly because of the smell. But in a short, while I started doling out opinions with elan like a seasoned gourmet describing pluses and minuses to the last detail.
I don't understand why Indians like bones? World over, meat or fish is always served boneless. So stringent is the dictum that if you find even a small fishbone in a fine dining dish, the chef loses his job! And really to take out the small bones in a fish-like 'Karli' is so cumbersome that it's better not to eat it!
Had heard about 'Sushi' and 'Sasha-mi' so many times that I was just longing to taste these Japanese varieties of non-veg delicacies. Abroad they are categorized as fine dining so are extremely expensive. The dilemma was that if you don't like it, a handful of dollars were going to be a waste. And Emi came to my help, Japanese wife of my school chum Girish who stays in Canada.
A ball of Rice cooked in vinegar is rolled in a seaweed paper along with either raw or cooked fish, meat, crab or anything that you fancy, dip it in wasabi or any other sauce you like and relish the concoction. Unfortunately, the very first morsel that came to my share contained partially cooked head of prons! Neither I could gulp it down as I could not look the prons into its staring eyes, nor could I throw it away for fear of insulting Emi, as I only had asked to serve it specifically. And in difficult situations, it's said that God helps you. Here my daughter turned out to be that God. ' Give it to me Baba' and that prons with prominent eyes staring at me, quickly vanished into her little mouth and I heaved a sigh of relief!
I should have learnt a lesson. But history teaches you a damn.  In all South-East Asian countries,  they serve you a dish of fish that you select live, from the water tank to be absolutely fresh. While on a tour of either Thailand or Malaysia we decided to try it out. It was so fresh that, only devoid of viscera it was practically, entirely intact with its fins, tail and even the eyes in their place!
I nudged my daughter and said,
' Saana , it just winked !'
'Come on Baba, how can it ?'
' I swear, it winked, look, his eyes are so bright.'
'Whatever, we all are going to feast on it, if you too want to, go ahead or close your eyes and ignore his !'
I did the same and to tell you the truth it was awesome!

Joy of small things

After a certain age, life becomes a sort of uneventful. You keep on living from the previous page. It flows like a placid river, calm and serene, you are contented and happy from within yet there is something that you miss but you can not pinpoint. No eddies, no cascades, no rapids.No, not out of cynicism, not out of boredom, it's just deja vu getting repeated again and again. Nothing surprises you and then you get it, what your life now lacks is 'WOW' factor. I too was passing through the same phase and then I suddenly realized it may not be so, life still holds something mysterious away from you, that when it comes in front of you, it just pounces on you leaving you really spellbound and let me tell you, yet it may not be something magnanimous, or profound, it may be a simple act that you might have forgotten years ago which surprises you newly. 

I had heard about Makar Sankranti being a huge festival in Gujrat, but it would be this big was news to me. Though I had visited Baroda, now Vadodara, many times since childhood, never had an occasion to pay a visit during Makar Sankranti. Though my nephew and nieces had invited me umpteen number of times, it was to happen only when my son and daughter in law forced me to accompany them to visit their aunt, my sister.

And the joy of small thing like flying a kite became so huge that it really overwhelmed me. My brother in law had purchased kites of different hues and colours in dozens. 'Manja', special thread to fly the kite too was brought in the length of miles, really miles. Funds being meagre in my childhood I had to play with a single kite at a time with a small bundle of thread. And if it was cut, with a face as small as sparrow I used to climb down the terrace with a heavy heart. So the sheer magnitude of the things played the first part.

On 14th and 15th, January entire Baroda was at standstill [ on roads ] including emergency services of Doctors, because everybody from kids in 5s to grandmas in 80s was on the terraces. Initially, there were few enthus, with stray kites riding the skies here and there. By late afternoon there were so many kites in the sky, that to say it was overcast, would have been an understatement. Hundreds in our area alone and maybe in thousands, if you consider the adjoining areas. Different colours, sizes, shapes of kites in the sky accompanied by loud hoos and haas from every terrace. As such Gujratis are always known for 'Eat and enjoy', lavish spreads were laid out on every terrace and with mouths full with 'Fafdas or Gathias' all the Gujju bhais and bens were flying the kites with full gusto.

I too tried my hand at it, after a long long gap of,  maybe  50/55 years and surprisingly my kite rode the skies like a chariot on winds! Within no time I could master whatever little skills of flying the kite in my own way. And the joy of that small thing was stupendous! Really exhilarating, almost liberating me from the monotony.  I could cut one or two kites in my own right and after 'doing it'  prancing like a child at the age of 63 was nothing but a feather in the cap of enjoyment. My daughter in law was on the floors laughing seeing the antiques of her pa in law! 

My bro in law kept us reassuring that more is yet to come. By dusk, there would be 'Gubbarays' and that sight would be worth a life to watch! I was unsure about how the balloons in the sky would be a sight to watch. After a short wait, 1st one appeared on the horizon and yes it was a sight to watch! It turned out that in Gujrati 'Gubbarays' are not rubber balloons as the thought would go, but are Chinese paper lanterns with a bright flame lit in it. Within half an hour or so there were thousands and thousands of lanterns floating on the sky like chandeliers swaying with the whiff of a breeze. Mesmerized would be a small word. The entire sky was lit with a thousand tiny dots of fire that swayed us without bounds. Mouths gaped, eyes widened and again I was reminded that there can be 'WOW' factor at any juncture in your life, just be open to embrace it!

What next ?

I am perpetually afraid of the question"what next?" I might have completed reading the nth book. just returned from the holidays those were always overdue, came out of the cinema hall watching the movie that I longed to view for aeons. and the question? ! so I have seen all, done all, at least the feeling is there, what next! Is it to do something with 'being'? I exist, so I exist! And I exist, so I have to do it all, all the time. After reading umpteen books did my 'being' got more mature, more experienced, more profound? I don't have answers. After seeing a thousand movies, visiting many countries did my horizons widen? I don't know. And if they really widen. what's the limit for widening? What's the motive behind zest, rather motivation itself? I don't know, probably utter confusion may be the limit. I am not philosopher, trying to put my feet in Buddha's shoes, nor I am pretender like Mahesh Bhatt who has all the answers for everything under the sun. But what are the 'achievements' themselves? what are my gains for 'being'? I call myself a man of science but I won't be able to tell, who was the Nobel laureate in Medicines for last year. But I can enumerate 'n' no. of Gandhis, including Rahul !!!. Who is more achiever? A Gandhi or a Nobel prize winner? Am I going to leave imprints of my being on time? If the answer is no, the whole rhetoric seems futile. No, I am not depressed nor going to stop living the next moment nor longing for early death, but many a time I wonder what's the propriety?

10 crore collection in 3 days : Hip Hip Hurrey

नट सम्राटने  १० कोटींचा गल्ला ३ दिवसात जमा केल्याची बातमी ऐकून संमिश्र विचार मनात आले . मराठी प्रेक्षक अजूनही तसाच भावूक आहे अस प्रत्कार्षाने वाटलेलं.  तस पाहिलं तर नट सम्राट ही  शेक्सपियरच्या  ' किंग लिअर ' वर बेतलेली पहिली कलाकृती नाहीये . जगातल्या कितीतरी भाषात त्यावर अगणित कलाप्रकार बेतले गेले आहेत , आपल्याकडेच मराठीत राजा परांजपे आणि सुमती गुप्त्यांचा 'उन पाउस' वा मोहन जोशी सुहास जोशी द्वयीचा 'तू तिथे मी ' किंवा हिंदीत ' बागबान' वा संजिवकुमार माला सिन्हा जोडीचा ' जिंदगी ' येऊन धो धो चालून गेलेले आहेत . मग नट सम्राट चच मराठी मनावर एव्हढ गारुड का ?

त्याच सगळ श्रेय कै . मा . वि वा शिरवाडकरानांच जात . त्यांनी मराठी मनाची  नाळ अचूकपणे जोखलेली होती. घडलेली हीच कथा शिक्षकाच्या वा कारकुनाच्या घरात दाखवली असती तर मराठी   मनाला ती तितकीशी  भावली नसती . मराठी मनाच  नाटक वेड  लक्षात घेऊन त्यांनी हे नाटक नाटकाच्या दरबारात पर्यायाने नट  सम्राटाच्या घरात नेल्याने त्याला जी मिती लाभली ती larger than life झाली आणि तिला भाऊक मराठी प्रेक्षक भुलला नसता तरच नवल . पल्लेदार वाक्य अति अलंकारिक भाषा लांबच लांब स्वगत मधून मधून भरलेले टिपिकल मराठी philosophy चे डोस मराठी मनाला खूप हवे हवेसे वाटतात आणि योग्य प्रमाणात ते दिले कि तो महा खुश होतो. नाटकाच्या बाबतीत ते घडलंच घडलं आता ते सिनेमाच्या बाबतीतही घडतंय . त्यात नाना पाटेकर नट सम्राट मग काय विचारता ? नाटकीय अभिनयात नानांचा हात धरणारा आज तरी डोळ्यासमोर कोणी नाही आणि नट सम्राट सारखं कुरण मिळाल्यावर नाना सुटले नसते तरच नवल . नाटक म्हटल्यावर संयत अभिनयाची अपेक्षाच नसते तिथलं सगळच भव्य दिव्य .  त्यामुळे नेहेमीचे संवाद बोलताना नाटकीय ढंगात फेकले तरी मराठी  माय बाप प्रेक्षक ते कानात भरभरून घेतो आणि त्यालाच  अभिनय समजतो बापडा . मराठी सिनेमान १० कोटी जमविले ह्याचा आनंद नक्कीच आहे पण … पण हा पण मोठा वाईट आहे

Nat Samrat The movie: Through my lenses.

'Marathi Manoos' from the  theater is inseparable. It's part of his being. So an era was there, around the turn of last century that mesmerized him over the years, with its innumerable offerings. Not that Marathi Manoos has stopped loving the theater now, but over the years, it has metamorphosed so much that in today's times it seems, that the memories of the golden era are blurred but still holding on with its gilt and glamour, albeit  from a distance. So has become its contents and acting styles. Stale? Old ? No, I don't have the correct word, but may be 'Too theatrical ' would be nearer the apt.

My son saw film Nat Samrat earlier and came telling me, 'Its' Marathi version  of Baghbaan'. Was I nonplussed , yes for a moment but after giving it a thought for a minute, I felt it was right for his generation who had never seen Nat Samarat, the play and in all eventuality both the pieces of work were based on Shakespeare's 'King Lear'.

Late Mr V V Shirwadkar, a master craftsman in his own right,  probably had his fingers firmly on the pulse of Marathi Manoos so he gave THE Marathi Garb to this universal tragedy  on theatrical background , a weak point for all the Marathis. By doing so  not only he did justice to the original theme but also left ample scope for Soliloquies, Dramatic duels,crisp dialogues, as if dancing to the sharpness of steel sword, ornamental language, larger than life characters, layers after layers of human relationships unfolded languidly for a common Marathi theater lover who was always gullible for such theatrics. And it worked. Worked so wonderfully that even by creative standards Nat Samrat the play became legend in its own right. More over the performances by the lead pair then, Dr Shriram Lagoo and Late Shanta Jog, took it to such a high pedestal that it had become too risky for any body to venture any where near it. It had become that iconic.

Naturally when Mahesh Manjrekar and Nana Patekar duo announced to adopt it for the screen, it became imperative to keep the fingers crossed. 

And from here onward my dilemma started , as usual.

Cinema has laxity of space, play is confined to 3 walls of stage, the 4th one is open to the viewers. So Nat Samrat the movie takes you on a beautiful ride.The story is, as every body knows and there are not many cinematic liberties taken. Script remains loyal to the play, well mostly. By doing so at least for a while it takes you away from the theater, but does it leave the theater completely? sadly no. May be because the protagonist is a renowned theater artiste, the directer could not do away with the theatrical format. Every scene, every performance every dialogue delivered, is over the pitch. 

Nana is known for theatrical deliverance , here he gets an open pasture. And given such an opportunity, for Nana there are no holds barred. In every frame you feel ' Oh what a marvelous acting' nonetheless you keep on feeling it's 'ACTING' after all in the end. Superficial ? Put on?  Being a theater artiste, or any performer for that matter, is his own persona too  overshadowed by theatrical mannerism in real life when not on stage ? May be, possible because as an artiste the line between the real and the theater may be blurred. So you are moved not by his performance but by the original script  that has the strength to move you from within. May be Nana himself too got engulfed in the dilemma, the protagonist faces, 'So many characters came alive using my body but in the end who [nobody] bothers about the soul of an actor that makes them alive'. Could Nana be separated from the role he played ?

I have seen Dr.Lagoo from close quarters in a well known play 'Atmakatha'. He really used to seep in to character so effortlessly when the focus used to be on him that it was  amply apparent who was Dr.Lagoo and who was the character. In Nat Samrat, you get an over dose of 'THE' Nana Patekar with all his  histrionics, may be he will get away with it, because the role [ of a theater actor]  demands it.

All in all again, the same dilemma, where to put this Nat Samrat ? The Nat Samrat in itself is so iconic that as an experience in different format too, it just can not be bad. But otherwise , may be nostalgia is always sweet so I would always vote for Nat Samrat THE play by Dr. Lagoo !

Nana Patekar

Vishwanath Dinkar Patekar aka Nana Patekar is almost my contemporary in age. Hardly a difference of 1 or 2 in years. I don't know him personally at all, forget about being a friend or one from his inner circle. Neither I am his fan nor follower. But somewhere along we probably bond, don't know of what kind. 

It so happened that my brother shifted abroad and our mother came to stay with us. Along with her, came our ancestral Ganapati, a tradition running in the family for more than a century. I started bringing Ganapati home for her. After her demise around 10 to 13 years ago, I brought my children together and asked them whether to continue the tradition or not, as I myself was not very keen to continue the tradition for so many reasons, her not being around being one of them. My being non-believer, atheist being last. Both chorused unanimously 'No' and the tradition continued.

Years after, one day my elder one jumped out of the seat shouting 'Baba come immediately, see what he is saying'. He was watching Nana Patekar's interview being conducted on a Marathi channel and Nana was echoing exactly the same about bringing Ganapati what I had said years ago. I just chuckled and left at that.
But it was to be repeated. I once was reading an article on Nana and again got a jolt. He turned out to be the only one from the filmy fraternity to openly put the onus on Sanjay Dutt's shoulders for his own misendevour. I had always felt that Sanjay got away, to be absolutely frank, with minuscule of sentence for his crime which practically amounted to sedition. And I simply abhorred the reaction from his filmy near and dear ones who are dying to cast him in their next ventures as soon as he is released from the jail. Nana is the only one who has said that 'He is not going to work with Sanjay in future'.
But my bonding with Nana ends at these points only.
His ruffian street smart image, stories being circulated about his brash behaviour [ showing pistol to the fellow driver on the highway in a road fracas], his generosity, his extremely volatile but emotional nature, jarred at least to me. I always felt that it's a facade carefully cultivated to nurture the image. A ruffian with a heart of gold. And it did not stop there, it seeped in the characters on the screen too. All those roles where he was presented as a good Samaritan but with extremely loud and grotesque mannerisms became widely popular. Almost amounting to a schizophrenic like what Jack Nicholson does on the Hollywood scene.
When any Tom Dick Harry from the obscure street opera starts mimicking you, you come down as an actor, I have said before. Stylized acting is NO acting. And we had Nana repeating it in film after film. And so, now we see dime a dozen Nanas everywhere, in all orchestras, mimicry shows on TV and whatnot. And so I become always sceptical when he tries something new. I was when he came out with Dr Praksh Baba Amte. Though he was superlative in most of the film, that ruffian Nana surfaced in instances where it was not called for.
And I am now bothered about Nat Samrat. Dr Lagu has taken the role to such a height that it is probably impossible for anybody to break that bar. Mainly Dr Lagu's Nat Samrat was soft, caring, gentle and sensitive, all the characters that are miles away from what Nana has projected in the past so far. In real life too? Don't know, because, to come it out on your face, in your body language, it has to be there in you in somewhere. Or is it what acting is all about To project what you are not. Nana?
I really don't know where to put Nana in this category. For years together he has been doing exemplary work without even the whispering grass from the mythological stories knowing about it. How much he might have donated only 'he' knows. By he, I mean God because Nana knows only to give. Only lately his philanthropic work is seeing the pages of the newspaper. Is it catharsis or real Nana surfacing at last? Then what about those stories of his volatile explosions, rough and brash outbursts?
Whatever! A big big whatever !! I am going to watch Nat Samrat for many many reasons. I have to, it being. Mr V V Shirwadkar's masterpiece offering is the one to start with, but Nana donating his part of the income from the movie, to the drought-stricken farmers of Maharashtra will top them all!