LIVING AND LEARNING

The process of decluttering is painful .  I undertook a marathon decluttering session which lasted over a couple of days. It is heartbreaking to discard personal possessions, many of which are just keep sakes, mementos and reminders of people and places. They are of immense emotional value. Some papers and files find a place to stay,  for you might just need them on a rainy day. Clothes you hope to get into, jars that you might re-use, documents which remind you of things you once possessed and so on and so forth. Over the months I had saved so many things,  not  really out of necessity. I have also realized that clearing out cupboards and shelves, once in a while, helps you remember the things you have and the places in which they have been safely kept.

On one of the shelves I found a small slim book of short stories and as soon as I held it in my hand, it started to give way. It was not very old, I have books from a much earlier period, may be this one was to be used as a text book and printed on paper to be used for a short period of time.  From the first page I learnt that it was a birthday gift, titled, Once Upon a time, presented two decades ago, to my daughter, by her friend Moushumi, . It was a collection of eleven short stories, edited by Soubhagya Kumar Misra, Reader in English, Berhampur University. He had provided adequate notes, 'to not only acquaint the reader with the art of story-telling but also to deepen the understanding and enjoyment of life!' I’d say the editor succeeded in his mission, this book provided me the energy to keep going. My daughter has introduced  me to a new  way of working, a  technique called Pomodore, wherein you work for 25 minutes and then take  a short break of 3-5 minutes, till the task is done. Every once in a while I would take a break and go back to the book to relish a story.

I am sure I have read this anthology earlier, yet I enjoyed the stories again. I remembered one instantly, another after I had read a few lines and most I did not seem to recall. They were short short stories and they appealed to me very much. I personalized each one of the. Each one appeared to convey something invaluable to me and I wanted to preserve my thoughts for a later day. On going through the  editors note, I realised how the story could convey different things to different  people and that was the magic of these master story tellers.

I read the stories from start to finish in the order in which they appeared. Generally I would have read these stories in any random order which appealed to me. It was because the first story,  Princess September by Somerset Maugham was truly appealing.  It is the story of nine sisters, princesses, named after the months January to September.  In life, there is this overwhelming need to conform, to do what our mothers  have done,  to keep doing what everyone has always been doing.  There is so much opposition when one wants to do things differently. In order not to acquiesce, one needs to be strong and sure.  Woman today, including  educated and financially independent,  are grappling with issues in the changing society and I wish I get  that strength which Princess September got.

The story I remembered instantly was After 20 years by O Henry, a  story of two friends. Although I have enjoyed it every time I read it, what struck me this time was the arrogance of wealth, and especially ill gotten wealth. The story which touched me deeply was Where love is, God is by Leo Tolstoy. The protagonist, a poor cobbler, goes about his chores with a sense of duty and discipline, two values I hold dear. To me, it answered the question, Why do simple common folk like us need religion? Not the religious customs and rituals and the commandments of speaking the truth and not  cheating. This story made me rethink about duty and discipline in the context of religion.

The story Resignation by Premchand ,  set during the days of the British Raj tells how one  man fights oppression. To me it was really all about the love and faith of the spouse which empowered the clerk with  self respect and dignity.  Mystery of the missing cap by Manoj Das is so true of today's political leaders who are so full of themselves and are unable to see through false praise and sycophancy. There were stories from masters all over the world and by the time I finished reading the other stories, the pages sadly had come apart, many of them into bits and I had to discard what was left of it. But this valuable book  lives on in my blog-  The Open Window by Saki, Ha'penny by Alan Paton,  An Ideal Family by  Katherine Mansfield, The Fugitive Gold by Rabindranath Tagore, The Missing Mail by RK Narayan, Only a Dog by Kalindi Charan Panigrahi.  It feels great to know that I am learning and growing even now, a journey which began in my hometown, which I am so fortunate to visit again, very soon.

The Resolution

Over the last few days a lot has been telecast about the Aam Aadmi Party (AAP) or the Common Man's Party. Every time the spectre of AAP is aired, I am reminded of Baba Bharti and his majestic horse Sultan; from a story titled, Haar Ki Jeet, I had read in my Hindi text book in primary school. It is the story of a mendicant, named Baba Bharti who used to lead a pious life in the outskirts of a village. His only worldly possession was a grand horse named Sultan. There were many who coveted this horse.

One of them was a dacoit named Khadag Singh. When he heard about the horse, he wished to possess it. He was told that Baba Bharti would never sell it or part with it. So if he wanted to own that fine horse, he had to steal it. One  morning , as Baba Bharti was riding on his majestic horse, he was stopped by a pitiable man, begging for alms. As Baba Bharti slowed down,  the beggar overpowered him, and revealing his identity, the  dacoit said that all he wanted was the majestic horse.

The Baba was taken aback. Yet he spoke, ‘The horse is yours, this moment  onwards. But promise me - you will not reveal to anyone how you obtained Sultan, what treacherous means you adopted to seize him.’

‘Why?’ countered the fearsome dacoit.

The heartbroken Baba said, ‘After listening to your story,  people will stop giving. They will lose faith. They will not trust anyone and will never help the needy.’

Khadag Singh escaped with the grand horse. The baba went home a sad man. Early next morning he thought he heard the horse neigh. He remembered how he had lost the mighty horse to the menacing dacoit. His legs carried him to the paddock. His Sultan, his gallant Sultan, with bridle in place, was neighing impatiently, waiting to be fed. Baba Bharti was overjoyed, he hugged the strapping horse and kissed it. In his loss, lay his victory. The dacoit had indeed had a change of heart!

Now to the events. It is common knowledge that the AAP was formally launched on 26 November 2012 after a series of agitations against the then central government, which was weighed down by one scam after another.

The AAP raised hopes and rekindled a new hope in the people, who started envisioning an India, rid of corrupt politicians and practices. Several thousand people gave it their all and provided support and succor to the fledgling party. Eminent personalities endorsed the party, adding wisdom and respectability. AAP promised to be transparent and democratic in its fight against corruption.

After initial hiccups, the AAP bounced back and formed the government in Delhi, winning with a thumping majority. I live far away from Delhi and I don’t know how it is being governed. But the AAP has been in the news for everything except what it had promised to do. The differences, the dissent, the drama, the dismissal - all have come to the fore. This has shocked and surprised me for I expected the party to manage its affairs in a mature and honorable way.

Sometimes,  I wonder who is the common man for whom the party was formed? It caught everyone's imagination- the rich and the poor, the elite and the ordinary, the educated and the unlettered. Every section of people had its own grievances and the AAP promised to address all of them. It was a party built on faith. At that time, we did not worry about this...who were these people in whom we were reposing this faith?

More than anything else, now, I will be wary of people's promises. It is difficult to place faith again in people who promise to fight for you. That is why I find parallels with the story. I know Delhi has been overpowered. I am waiting for the end of the story, for the resolution.