90 - RAPE AND WHAT WOULD REDUCE SUCH HORRORS.

 It is become a distressingly common crime against the female species, since the perpetrators are oblivious of the age of the victims.   During my childhood, in the 70s, my parents always warned me to be safe physically and I would be indignant.  Foolish child that I was, I never realized that my safety could be compromised because of the putrid mind of the other forces, who could violate my physical boundaries.

As a teacher, I was horrified when six year old students of my class two, in the very prestigious school where I taught, used abusive hindi expletives against each other, during an argument.   These kids obviously were unaware of the meanings of the words that they were using, and were doing so because they had learnt them from listening to their parents or peers at home use them.

So, men of all ages and even a few women, use these hindi expletives without any hesitation.  The literal meaning of these words is that they will commit rape of the mother or sister of the opponent.

These words are used very often, too often and too easily.   When the mouth utters such filth, then the mind treats such actions as commonplace and it comes easily to terrorise the female species through actions.

In our zorastrian religion, the basic motto in the avesta is, "manashnee, gavashnee, kunashnee" which means  "good thoughts, good words, good deeds".    But it is a very sad fact that zorastrian boys and men indulge in uttering the abusive words as though it is a part of the punctuation of their daily conversations.

Once, I scolded a parsee youth who was our driver to Udvada, and he laughed it off as terms of endearment.   I was shocked at his justification, but he insisted that all these "maa, behen ki gaaliya, and other phrases like gan*** and    references to the male organ in various sexual connotations, were perfectly innocent.    I beg to disagree.  No girl or woman should allow the men to utter these words in their presence and remain indifferent.  It is NOT acceptable to be insulted in words.    Because this casual attitude has developed among men to use such phrases that insult women and are aimed at demeaning a female sexually,  that rapes have become rampant.

Even Gandhiji had instructed youth that, "hear no evil, see no evil, do no evil" and these are the famous three monkeys of Gandhiji's teachings.

Parents are the main triggers that influence a child's language, as children learn through experience.  So I request all men, fathers, brothers, sons, fathers-in-law, grandfathers, husbands,  STOP using abusive explicit phrases against the female species and the world can become a better place.

89- ONE HUNDRED AND ONE YEARS !

                               KHORSHED MANSION  CELEBRATES

                                ONE   HUNDRED    AND  ONE  YEARS 

 Khorshed mansion at Kohinoor Korner celebrates one hundred and one years on July 26th 2024.  

The story of this majestic structure began in July 1923.  Khorshed Irani, my grandmother, pioneered the establishment and started Kohinoor Restaurant on the ground floor at 241 Mahatma Gandhi Road, known as Sadar Bazar, in those days.

Top floors remain untenanted since the year 2000, as Lashkar water works has allowed the present ground floor tenant Ali jafari, to divert all pipelines into the restaurant, of which he is the present proprietor.

The present owners are the late Ardeshir  and late Moti Irani, who have willed this property to their daughter, Meherbanoo Irani.  She is having a legal battle with three ground floor tenants, two Billimorias and Ali Jafari, and one illegal encroacher, subtenant of Ali Jafari,  who is running a cigarette shop, to be evicted, so that repairs and renovation can restore Khorshed Mansion to its previous glory.

It is sad to note that Ali Jafari has encroached within the common area of wooden staircase leading up to the top floors.  He has blocked the spiral fire escape stairs and has no trade license nor a fire compliancy certificate.   Workers have no police registration and so as landlords, we are helpless against this apathy.

The other tenant, Hemali who runs Billi food corner, has no running water, nor a fire compliancy certificate, nor a trade license.  PCB has been requested to look into the irregularities, but they have no inclination to right things.

The present great grandson of Khorshed Irani, Roostam Irani, has hopes of reviving this ancestors' legacy and reverting it to our original ownership, as he is an experienced and qualified Hotel Management graduate.   Presently he is at the mercy of working for very little salary for other hoteliers, in spite of having this elegant property in our family ownership.  Tenants take over precious properties without any rent agreement nor registration and do not want to leave, nor are willing to contribute towards major repairs.  They hold the owners at ransom and quote the rent control act, to justify the measly rent they pay.   Such problems should be resolved urgently by courts to prevent loss of life due to dilapidated status of properties.  And also to give respite to owners for bonafide need.  Tenants are asking for crores of rupees to vacate, as this is how the govt rent control act allows them to hold the rightful owners to blackmail and extort money.

Khorshed Mansion needs to be saved as an iconic structure and an old Iranian legacy of zorastrian Irani refugees.  

88- MARATHI IS NOT MY MOTHER TONGUE, BUT ...

 Almost five decades have gone by since I was a student at the St Annes school in Pune.   I always got the first rank in all subjects, including Marathi which was a difficult subject for the non marathi speaking  students.

Every score in every subject was the hard work put in by my mother, who made sure that my two brothers and I would get all the guidance we needed from who ever was able to help us.

Most of the time, my late mother,  Morwareed or Moti as she was better known, would facilitate our study hours, make sure we had good nutrition,  and a good atmophere to learn.   She herself had managed only studying upto the eighth standard (which was the second last grade before cambridge school graduation, in her time).   My mother always wanted all her three children to enjoy whatever she had been denied due to financial constraints.   

My mother would revise every subject with each of us,  and for Marathi and Hindi, she would request our neighbour, the Pagadaloo family's eldest daughter, who was a teacher, to guide us.  The Pagadaloo family lived in our huge bungalow as tenants, and they were a flourishing family of, I think  nine children, and their matriach, Sivama.    I recall that their father had passed away when all the children were quite young, and the mother and older sibling, took over responsibility.   The father had taught my father driving in his ambassador taxi, and my late father always reminded us how well he had guided him.

I have forgotten the name of the oldest sibling who was the main person who helped us to compose marathi essay assignments,   but I shall never forget her kind and encouraging words.  She never refused to help us in any assignment, and was a very extraordinary guide, for the few times that we would go to her for marathi essays.

My late mother was a very compulsive personality and would pursue any task with all her resources and achieve the result she wanted.  So it was that she wanted us to be able to be fluent in Marathi speaking, not only to get good marks at school but she realized that as maharashtrians, we needed to know the local language well,  to survive and flourish in the state of our birth.

So, she would take all three of us and sometimes the pagadaloo kids, or the parsee neighbour's kids, or even the sindhi neighbour's kids, whoever was willing to come for watching a marathi play at the Bal Gandharva Rang Mandir at Deccan gymkhana.  And we would all travel by PMT bus.  Those were the sixties and seventies, when television was not yet easily available.

So, all of us would be standing in the long lines at Bal Gandharva theatre, one zorastrian lady, my mother, conspicuous in her parse style saree and three of her kids wearing outfits that were not the regular marathi audience wear, with shoes and socks and me, the girl, in a pretty embroidered frock.   So it was that we had to sit through the entire three to four hour marathi stage play, often not comprehending the language but yet listening and learning.  Mr Raj Thackeray would be pleasantly surprised if he ever has a chance to converse with me in marathi.

Our foursome was  a regular at the marathi cinema theatres which were in the city area, near mandai,  far from our camp home.  Pinjra shall always be the film that touched my soul, and I have watched it at least ten times, with tears in my eyes every time.  Because of the incessant efforts of my late mother, all three of her children, are fluent in marathi, which often leads to raised eyebrows from whomsoever we converse with, especially at government offices.

Now that I look back at the immense efforts my mother made to educate us,  I realize her contribution towards making me the person I am today.  I shall always recall with fondness the slim cane she used to whack us with, to make us learn our spellings.   Thank you my dearest mother,  you were the best mother in the whole world, and I miss you.

87 - PARSEES AND PARSEES AND ...

Being born into the zorastrian religion, I was always reminded since childhood, that we are a breed apart and that it is important to follow the basic tenets of 'manashni gavashni kunashni' which means 'good thoughts, good words, good deeds' in the avesta language.     And it is very important to wear our 'sadra' and kusti at all times,  to pray and remind us of our religion.

And I really believed that all zorastrians, parsees and iranis, also believed the same tenets.

But bubbles do burst and so did I realize that all beliefs are just for public perusal and not for practice in reality.

Parsees are not saintly, nor too charitable, nor kind hearted, any more than other communities.

In my life experiences, I have had kindness bestowed upon me by random  people and none of them happen to be parsees.  On the contrary, parsees have critizised me without complete information or details about my actions, nor about my status, medical or financial or emotional.     Parsees have been brutal and mean and emotionally drained me, instead of lending a helping hand.   Especially parsees who are my relatives through my marriage and parsees who have married my relatives.

I have lived in a parsee colony area for more than forty years, but there is not anyone who is my friend in the true sense of the word.   

A parsee will speak politely with you if they need you to share your servant, or to borrow something, or to keep your house key to give your servant when they are not in town.

A parsee will pry into your personal details just to be able to gossip about it to their circle of friends.  

A parsee will befriend you if they know that you can bestow their property on them after you are gone. 

A parsee who is a CEO of any charitable trust, or any trustee, will demean you, insult you, and ridicule your requests, but they will focus their attention on your assets, especially if you are alone and they can acquire your property to then use it to mint money in various ways from other needy parsees.

I wanted to be a part of the parsi theatre, but i was ridiculed by certain stalwarts of the industry, almost as if they were purposely hindering my dreams.

Parsi school principals have insulted my children for requesting to be as part of the organisers.  Parsees only respect another parsee who is rich or someone who they can donate foodgrains and diapers to, once a year.

Of course I must reiterate that there are a few who really reach out, but they are very very few and far apart, almost unreachable.

So when I need help, I do not go to any specific Parsee for succour, but to the good human who may belong to any other religion. 

86 - STAIRWAY TO THE STARS

Getting caught in a traffic jam everyday is the reality of life in Mumbai.  Trying to cope with the passivity of the situation, I have evolved a simple tactic.  One is to wear dark glasses and shut the eyes, and the second is to look at the same buildings daily and build up a connection among them.

Predominantly a Muslim area, there are at least five christian schools and four churches here, but it is the loudspeakers of the masjids that rule. Cigarette shops and liquor shops abound, with immunity, in spite of the proximity of at least five schools on this road.  The footpath is in a very sorry state too, and is used as a road for two wheelers.  It is almost safer to walk on the road.  This area is a shopping haven for children's outfits, with shops like Nabila, Baingans, Kiwis, Chickoos, Planet Kids etc.  All these shops encroach onto the footpath with their displays.  I wonder why the E ward authorities are blind to the menace.  Obviously a very hefty 'hafta' must be given by all.  The footpath is also blocked by the HP petrol pump which is now renovating a 'police chowky' next to its premise, which is also illegally blocking the pedestrian footpath,  but no one objects, and so it continues.  But when the footpath nears the Byculla Jail, then magically the entire length along the jail has a very clear footpath?  Across the road, the grand old American Express Bakery boasts 'we knead  your needs' but they blatantly block the broad footpath with large SUVs.  Who cares that school children too have to walk on the road?  No one.

As my bus inches along Nagpada,  it strikes me that it is an amalgamation of so many religious cultures.  Essentially a Muslim area, the corner has the JJ Parsee dharamshala at Bellasis road, which 'helps people of all castes and creeds with food, shelter and medicine'.  It is one hundred and fifty years old.   Hotel Sagar, owned by multimillionaire muslims is the star of the road.  Shops with names like Zamzam,  Tahoora,  Zahoora abound here.  Sweet whiffs of bakery products being baked invade the olfactory senses.   Then comes the St. Anthony's home and school for girls, run by the Franciscan Missionaries of Mary, which also has boarders who are taken care of for free.    As the bus eases along, I always try to catch a glimpse of the lovely grotto dedicated to Mother Mary, just inside the main gate.  Quite a few prostitutes stand along the footpath, as this is also a redlight area of Mumbai.  This area is known as Nagpada or Bellasis Road or Boman Behram Marg, until the local MLA changes it to his own name as the chowk name board has already been named after him.  the self proclaimed 'famous' citizen Mr. Waris Pathan.  It would be credible if he would make sure that the footpaths are blocked for two wheelers and are safe for pedestrians.

The bus stop has the legend 'Alexander talkies and Maharashtra college'.  What a contradiction!  A theatre that became the bane of all locals, as it was reduced to screening B grade blue films, a drastic fall from its previous status. Started in 1931, by Khan Bahadur Ardeshir Irani, who was known as the 'father of talkie films' in Asia.  He had produced and screened the first talkie called Alam Ara in 1931,  besides countless silent films before that, the first indigenous colour film called Kisan Kanhaiya in 1937.  So it is an important historical landmark, which has now been taken over by a muslim religious foundation called Deeniyaat.     The Anjuman Islam school for girls is across the road, but the footpath in this area is used as parking space and school children walk on the road, braving the traffic.  Further on is the intricate dome of the Mehndi Masjid, almost strangled by the newer buildings.

All along the path that the bus moves towards Mumbai central,  the Imperial twin towers in the distance are like the North star, as though guiding the path of my bus.  Clearly visible from the Nagpada area too, the towering sixty floors built by Hafeez Contractor and the Shapoorji Pallonji Group are a treat to view.  A major bus stop is at the Orchid Centre mall, with the BEST depot across the road, a very shabby face on either side, except for the towering DB enclave of forty four floors in the background.  I have visited the mall recently and it was a very painful experience, with the tiny cubbyhole mobile accessories'  shops, and lots of packing material garbage along the entire corridor, plastic wrappings, nylon strings, thermocole packing,  on all the inner floors, and a very strong stink of unclean toilets that  all the sellers and buyers seem to be oblivious about.  It is as though the public that enters there,  expects  the shoddy environment.

The bus usually stops at the traffic signal at the Mumbai central chowk, and on the left is the Samudra bar and restaurant, with a poster boasting about a 'live orchestra',  and a very vigilant bouncer at its closed door.  The next building is the Nathani Heights, which will be the tallest building in India, with seventy two floors, when it is complete.  Along the footpath, vendors sell shoes, which has always intrigued me.  How do they access the stylish leather shoes?  Just before the bus goes over the railway lines below the bridge, I observe the 'night school and night junior college'.  And then the nostrils are invaded by the fishy stink of the tiny stalls that are along the descending slope towards Vasantrao Naik Chowk,  The chowk has a lovely triangular garden in the centre of the seven road junction here.  The pretty sight is spoilt by the derelict Ganga Jamuna theatres in the background.  What a waste of prime space.  Bhatia Hospital is the next landmark, with haphazardly parked cars, making the broad road into a bottleneck. 

I look forward to catch a glimpse of the sprawling Parsee owned bungalow just before Nana Chowk.  The congested Nana chowk with six roads forming the cross roads,  is as unsafe to walk as ever, with the huge skywalk leading just to this point, and therefore quite pointless to access.  The Gamdevi police chowky, is the next eyesore, with police bikes, jeeps, vans, double parked, blocking the road, as though it is their birthright to do as they please, because they are the police.  The police vans even block the opposite side access to the footpath,  a sad reflection on the indiscipline of 'rule makers' becoming 'rule breakers'.

So then why have I chosen the title 'Stairway to the Stars'?    Because in spite of all the melee, my daily route lets me observe the intermingling of the sane, the blatant and the dream makers, with so many religious groups, so closely intertwined, living in peace almost, with so many skyscrapers that have so many residents with their heads among the stars.

85 - ALL THE BETTER TO SEE YOU WITH.

A very quiet area, where only a few parked cars are the visible statements that people are around somewhere.  The traffic on the road is prolific of course.  And then I enter the Bombay City Eye Institute, and step into a very busy setup.

Luckily I have visited during the 'economy' time, so I will pay a subsidized fee, for my check up.  Everybody looks calm and relaxed.  Patients of all age groups are sitting on the seating along the walls,  tiny cabins have neat eye checkup machines, doctors donning a white coat are attending to individual patients in each of the small cubicles, and helpers in blue uniform are calling out names of persons who have to follow them to a particular point,  for a particular checkup.

I register myself.  Looking for an unoccupied seat, I walk around and note the labels on the cubicles.  There are eight rooms , then four more in a long corridor and the corridor parallel is the operation area, where footwear has been removed before entering.  Optometry, sonography, retina and uvea, perimetry and YAG laser, cornea and contact lenses, lensex OT, lasik OT, etc are the labels I noted down while waiting for my turn to be checked up.  All along the walls and the narrow corridors, seating has been provided, on which there were almost fifty persons in the various benches and chairs provided.  As a patient was called to any of the checkup cubicles, any standing person would quickly sit on the unoccupied place.  This 'musical chairs' game amused me and I too had to participate in it.

As I waited on a chair near a cubicle, I could hear the doctor's interaction with the patient.  'How much time do you spend on the PC?'  seemed to be the first question for every patient that entered.  But if she would ask 'How much time do you spend on the mobile screen?'  it would elicit a more popular response.  Anyway, I involuntarily became privy to the conversation as I waited.  The person worked on the PC from ten a.m.  to seven p.m.   The advice was 'Blink more often, do not stare at the PC for more than an hour, focus onto something at a different distance for two minutes'.   Advice that I too am grateful for.

Mine was a routine checkup advised by my diabetologist.  As I was called into the different cubicles, to check the lens, my spectacles, eye pressure, vision, the cornea, the retina,  etc, the common instructions were 'please put your chin on the support and rest your forehead onto the band'.  The reading room where the lenses are checked onto each person's eyes for near and far sightedness, had a screen which showed the alphabet as inverted mirror images, which were reflected onto a facing mirror, to be read.  I was enlightened about this,  that this creates twice the distance between the patient and the image display,  as the tiny cubicles do not have the length needed for correct diagnosis.  So now I am a bit wiser for having asked the reason for the mirrors.

Between tests, I had to walk around to find the unoccupied chair in the musical chairs' game, and I noted the displays about 'blade and bladeless cataract surgery',  the Hermann Grid by Ludimar Hermann that displayed lateral inhibition in 1870,  and another display titled 'turning the tables' illusion by Roger Shepard that displayed 'spatial relations'.  I found that information very interesting.

One family with two girls, approximately seven and ten, were discussing how the school teacher would now have to give them the front bench, all the better to see the blackboard with, after the opthalmologist's  opinion and diagnosis.  One mother has brought a very small six month old baby for a checkup.  Another middle aged couple, where the husband was the patient, and had bandages on both his feet, intrigued my curiosity, and while playing the musical chairs game, we exchanged smiles and I ventured to ask how he had injured his feet.  Being a diabetic, the nerves in the legs had to be stimulated with a warm water soak daily, and by default, he soaked his feet into just boiled water, without realizing, until the damage was done. 

It is not easy to share intimate stories with strangers, and I am grateful to anyone who enlightens me about their personal experiences, so that I can be aware and better informed of such dangers.

As I am guided to the outgoing desk to collect my report, I spot two boards on the wall of the hospital.  One has a list of   'donors'  and the other, of   'advisories', and I recognised only the last name, that of Shiamak Davar.  The least likely person that I would have expected to find in the Bombay Eye Institute and Research Centre.  

84 - TO MARKET, TO MARKET, WITH A CLOTH BAG FOR SURE.

If you are buying vegetables from the market, you must carry your own bag.  It can be of paper, cloth or plastic.  But  you must have it on you,  unless you are a regular customer, and then the vendor will give you a carry bag that he will conjure up from the depths of the undercover 'galla'.

The quick thinking startup is that of stitching cloth bags and setting up shop at strategic places,  grocery stores, markets, etc.  Dorabjee strores in Pune sells cloth bags with their logo, for forty rupees each,  Reliance stores sell cloth bags with their logo for rupees forty and ninety each, Nature's Basket sells cloth bags with their logo for rupees ninety each.  So many shops have started this new product line, with something that has a timeless shelf life and excellent demand.

 Numerous establishments pack the products into paper bags with handles styled out of cords.  But these are viable only for light weight products, otherwise the customer has to carry the bag with both hands, one supporting the filled bag from below, otherwise the contents will soon be scattered through the paper and onto the ground.    Another invention is a 'bio green' bag, made of vegetable starch pellets and is completely bio degradable.  But that does not support large and heavy products that have to be carried from the sales' point to the home or place of re-distribution.  The large blue plastic bags are the most popular ones and are still used, and reused.  Crawford market is rife with 'plastic' bags.  Black garbage bags are also sold freely, whether they are bio degradable has to be taken at face value, on the word of the vendors.

The talcum powders, shampoos, conditioners, hand wash liquids, shaving creams,  are sold in plastic containers.  The refill packs of these are also sold in plastic bags.  Chocolate wrappers, snack wrappers, are all a type of plastic material.   Innumerable toys are manufactured with a type of plastic.  Innumerable footwear is made of plastic.  Raincoats, childrens' water bottles and snack boxes, are all made of plastic.  School books and school calendars are coated with plastic covers.  Everytime we write, we use a pen made of plastic.  Travel around the city and you will see blue plastic sheets used to cover roofs in so many places.  All electrical wires are coated in plastic,  it is a bad conductor of electricity, so it is quite indispensable.   Plastic is almost indispensable, and instead of banning its use, attention should be paid to recycle it effectively.

The worst culprits are the large cardboard chocolate gift boxes, mainly by Cadbury, which pack a variety of their products into moulded plastic containers and then pack these into a cardboard box.  The mobile phones which are packed with moulded plastic, to keep the product safe, are also environmental pollutants.   The thick, transparent, plastic strip curtains used to enclose shop entrances with AC installed.  Every toothbrush, most combs, goggles, are plastic.  Walk into any toy shop and you will see mostly plastic products.  The bucket and mug in my bathroom is plastic. The shower curtains and the pipes that connect the washing machine to the tap and the outlet, are plastic.    My Adhaar card, pan card, debit and credit card are all plastic coated.  Every photograph is on plastic paper, every roll binding is of plastic.

Plastic is a wonderful invention and it should be used and then recycled correctly.

83 - TRAVEL BUDDIES AND MORE GYAN

Every time I travel, from Pune to Mumbai, it is a two hour longer journey than the journey from Mumbai to Pune.  In order to get a sitting place in the general compartment, one has to be their at least two hours in advance, as the train that I travel by, is already on the station.  So the five and a half hour journey, becomes a seven and half hour ordeal.

Sitting in the stationary train, I observed that the water dispensing booth, boasting of rupees five per liter of chilled drinking water, is never in order.  I watch as potential customers come to the booth and are sent off because 'electricity is off'.  The usual vendors keep walking through the bogie and the platform, selling chikki, timepass fryums, shelled groundnuts, boiled whole groundnuts, hot vada pau, adrak walli chai, thanda pani and normal pani, shengdana laadu, garam samosa...     The aroma of the chillies with the vada pau permeates the air and arouses the appetitie.  It is a wonder that these vendors achieve sales by carrying around their heavy wares and manage to survive.  It seems like a lot of hard work for petty earnings.  And they are quite helpful too.  If a fan is not turning, on request anyone of the male vendors will lean up and give the fan a push,  if a drunkard is sitting in the ladies' compartment, on request, the male vendors will shoo him off,  or push open a window that is too stubborn to be pushed up by the lady passengers.  They even dispense currency change, if any passenger requests.  Most of the female vendors, carry a little hanging pouch around their waist for the cash and a mobile appears from time to time from the inners of their upper garment.  They check the time or converse with some family member.

The beggars' mafia and the drunkards that infest the platform and the train are the unwanted elements.  After the train moves on, it is the lack of garbage disposable facilities that bugs me.  Left, right and centre,  all the disposable paper cups, newspapers soiled with oily vadas and random biscuit wrappers, are  blatantly thrown out of the windows of the moving train,  with no qualms about abusing the greenery of the western ghats.  

As the train journey progresses, more and more people enter and crowd the limited space.  A four seat bench soon has six ladies trying to fit in, and the spaces between the seats and the aisle is taken over by desperate travelers, settling down onto the floor.  Young children are offered laps of accommodating lady passengers.  As I  made notes of these observations. the lady seated opposite me asked me what my profession was, and she  confided that she was a teacher too.  In fact, she had been promoted to be the  co-ordinator of the pre-primary section at her school, at the Rajasthani Sabha.   I soon found out that, they take parents and students together, when they go for a picnic or a field trip.  Another lady, travelling with her three year old, was also a teacher for the hearing and verbally disabled children at the 'Save the Children' at BKC.  She confided that the American School which is in their neighborhood, was quite helpful but not the Dirubhai Ambani School, which is also their neighbour. She also commented on the students who are from a lower middle class background, and so many of the students are siblings because there is no one to guide the parents about genetically passed on defects.  She said that most were progeny of close relatives inter marrying, which a particular community was prone to.

As we chatted and shared confidences, tempers were flaring among co-passengers just behind our seat.  This happens routinely.  Abuses  are hurled,  and the scene lends some 'timepass' for the other women.  A senior citizen travelling with her two teenage grand-daughters, told us that she had just visited her maternal village of Khedgao and was returning to her vegetable vending job at Sakinaka.  

She had changed two trains and was travelling since eight a.m.   The girl reading 'The Girl Who Knew Too Much',  was going back to her college on the eighteenth and nineteenth floors of the Stock Exchange building at Fort.    She was studying a two years Masters in Global Finance Marketing.  I was very surprised to know that there is a college in the stock exchange building.  The other lady confided that she had been an HR executive and had been with Atkins in Bangalore for five years, before taking a break to be with her baby in Lonavla.  She said that she had studied at Lonavla at the sprawling Sinhagad college campus there.   She had been to Pune for Ganpati darshan.  The last lady in our group, said that she lived with her husband and son at Talegaon, because the son was pursuing his medical degree at a college here, and she often visited Pune for shopping.

 As the train approached Lonavla, a water park adjacent to the tracks came into view, and was abandoned as always.  A vendor with a tokri full of small packets of sweets got in, and her sales pitch could shame any Television jingle.  She sang quite melodiously, 'adrak chee golee ghyaa,   khaasee khoklah  hoee jhatpath moklaah'.

After the train passes Khandala, the beautiful hills and valleys are as wonderful as always.  The far off hills have tiny streams of waterfalls leaping down into the deep valleys, they resemble the long white locks of an older Rapunzel.  Closer mountains that had waterfalls when it was raining heavily, are now not visible, but the sculpture that the force of water falling down has formed, due to erosion, is now visible, an intricate pattern where the soft rocks have worn off, leaving the harder rocks, along the vertical rock faces.

As I watch the hills and valleys, the train passes through tunnels, the wheels making screeching protests that are heightened within the confines of each tunnel,  making one break into goose bumps at the unearthly sounds.  Then I watch the rail tracks, undulating gracefully as the train passes over the connecting portions.  It seems as though someone is doodling along the path with the rail tracks.  

The train approaches Ulhasnagar, which is as filthy as ever.  What a shame to see the littered Ulhas river and its plastic and cloth rags, clogging the banks.  But the local MLAs have the audacity to display large posters, wishing the public a 'happy ganeshostav'  with the ganpati picture in a tiny corner and the MLA's face featured larger than life.  Numerous such posters were visible along the next few stations.  Public buses also sported similar advertisements.  As Dadar approached, the vendors were selling headphones, books for children and toys.  As the train stopped at CST, the loud jingle of  'Badshah masala' welcomed all those alighting.

  

  

82 - BEING HUMAN . . .

Salman Khan's  clothes'  line of the 'being human' brand is very popular with a wide range of age groups.  Young school and college students sport the brand and so too middle aged persons.  But it is just for style,  not to support the spirit of it, as is obvious by the attitude of such persons.

I am a teacher and to be insulted by a stranger on Teachers' Day and that too on a public footpath, was a vicious blow to me.  Having been a teacher for the last twenty two years seems to have been so fruitless, because I could not even bring about a single change for the better, in spite of consistent efforts.

The footpath near my school is used like a road by two wheelers.  They ride over it and they park on it.  So many school children use this footpath, but the two wheeler riders are immune from any type of policing.  On this particular day, the footpath was teeming with students returning home and yet motorbikers were riding at high speed on the footpath because there was a traffic jam on the road.  I stopped a biker and told him that he should walk his bike and ride when he is back on the road.  After arguing for two minutes, he realized that I was adamant and that I would not let him pass, so   he complied.  Then another biker, sporting a 'being human' tee shirt,  came onto the footpath and without provocation began abusing me, with his mouth full of red paan spit.  He parked on the footpath and kept shouting against my stand with the previous biker.  I told him that he too was wrong to have ridden his bike onto the pavement, at which his tirade became louder and he started using foul language.  When I protested that he was the wrong doer and didn't deserve to wear a tee shirt saying 'being human', as he was being inhuman by abusing an older lady besides,  he shouted that I should keep my teaching for the school students inside the school premises only.  When I admonished him that hadn't he been taught manners and civic rules at school, during his youth, he mocked me by retaliating that he had been a student of the same school where I was teaching at present.  That was the last straw for me and I just felt so heart broken and could not argue with him anymore.

Just then a traffic policeman was walking on the road, and I approached him, hoping that he would intervene or at least tell off the rude 'being inhuman' person.  But the policeman walked off faster than me and I realized that he wanted to avoid confrontation.  I followed him till the end of the road where the main traffic signals at a cross road of six main roads stalled him.  I requested him as to why he had walked off from the scene of argument, and he said that 'yeh elaakah unkah hai, hum kuch naheeh kar sakteh'.  So I asked to know his name, but he covered his nameplate with his hand and hurried off into the traffic.

This proves that the police are quite incompetent to control thugs in this particular area, mostly because they are backed by political honchos of the same community.  Even the E ward municipal office has not bothered to fix bollards along the footpath, to keep two wheelers off the pavement. In fact the edges of the pavement have slopes for easy access to two wheelers to be able to speed onto the footpath.  Repeated reminders have not rendered effective action from the E ward office.  But they have taken extra precautions to fix a double row of bollards outside the gate of their own office premises, which is just across the corner.

Civics, as a subject, has been side lined in schools.  I think that it should be compulsory upto the tenth and it should involve students into the practical application of its tenets.  That and that only will lead to a better India.  Students should be made aware of how the machinery of a ward office works, so that they can use it to better the situation in their own residential areas.  They must be taught the power that can be wielded by the BMC if they wish to implement it or are prodded into doing so.

81 - BANKS AND MORE BANKS

If one changes jobs, then the salary account of the new establishment is opened in a different bank every time.  So you end up visiting different banks to keep the accounts updated.  It is better to have a passbook and to update that, so that you can keep track of all transactions, especially the random fines levied from time to time, GST, minimum balance fine, there is even a fine if your account is reduced from a 'lakhpati status' to a 'less than that status' without the client's sanction for either the promotion or the demotion.  Very often the banks treat the clients like dirt, and make us feel that they are doing a big personal favor whenever they process any incoming, outgoing, or updating of our money.

The first and third Saturdays of the month are just 'bank' days.  Overheard someone say that all Saturdays will be off days for banks soon, one of the conditions to be put forward during the strike next week.  My suggestion is that let banks close on all Saturdays and Wednesdays, and have working hours on Sundays.  I am sure that lots of people would support the decision.  On working days, it is quite impossible to visit a bank, as all are working in their own offices etc., maybe business persons can do bank transactions at all times, but office workers cannot.

Most of the banks that I have visited have a very constricted entrance.  It is almost as though we have to squeeze through.  The Bank of India at many branches, has a very constricted entrance.  The Central Bank at Fountain is the most beautiful and 'spacy' bank, if only the plastic flower pots would disappear.  Citibank is unwelcoming and cold-shoulders all visitors.  Clients are treated like low mortals by the high and mighty bankers here.

 So  often,  banks decorate the premises during divali, and the decorations are left on till August, with a very friendly Santa claus poster declaring merry Christmas among the mini divali lanterns, all dusty and forlorn.  But I suppose, the officers are too busy to remove the old decorations, as observed, the security guards are also involved in helping clients update passbooks in the vendor machines and generally guiding all and sundry, as to which  transaction will be done where and by whom within the bank.  One security guard made it his 'duty' to take the passbooks of every customer and put it into the passbook printer, even those who did not want him to do so.  And then he was giving advice to each person, to put the extra cash in FD or mediclaim etc.  So it seems that the security guard has an insider's information to the bank balance of each visitor.

The Bank of India is very tardy in resolving issues of customers.  Very often I have been witness to someone flaring up and abusing the bank personnel loudly.  Today, a senior citizen with her adult son lost their tempers because it was the umpteenth time that they had been asked to visit the branch and the needful had not been done, some transfer of the late husband of the party.  It seems that the son had to accompany the mother each time and be absent from his job during those times, and yet the transfer was deferred on and on since 3 months.  Listening to the expletives exploding from the young man, I could only side with him, as I have been in his shoes so often and not have had the guts to explode.  Banks can frustrate us and make tempers flare so so easily and  justifiably.

At the Axis bank branch that I visited, another customer was angry too and rightly so,  it seems.  Very often the bank will absolve itself of a particular  unsolved problem,  by pointing out that the person in charge is on leave,  or that the KYC  details have to be renewed, etc etc and all this is done in whispered tones, which is so so irritating too.  Here the client had been promised that some foreign transfer of eight thousand dollars would be completed and even after paying rupees eight thousand for the service, the transfer was not done and the gentleman was very very angry, as it had prevented the admission etc etc of some institute abroad for his family member.  The person was quizzed about 'who was the officer?'  'can you tell us the time and the number of the request.'   It is always the same story, banks do not complete the request and then behave like quiz masters or question the client as though they are sleuths of some sort and we are at their mercy.

'Signatures are not matching',     
'KYC has to be renewed',   
'All signatories must be present and sign  in front of us',
'Come back after a week, internet is not working',
'Who did you speak with on the phone?  What is the name of the person and which department?'
'Come back after a month, the person in charge is on leave',
'The Aadhar card name and the pan card has discrepancies of the father's name etc',
'The printer is out of order',
'The ATM is out of order',
'The statement cannot be issued,  you must visit the other branch'.
'Even if you do not use the card, the account will be deducted, or give an application to the section in charge.'
'You have been assigned a financial assistant automatically, the charges for that are deducted automatically.'
'Your account has been classified as dormant, you cannot do transactions unless it is activated, give an application.'
'You must not only put in money, you must withdraw too, or the account will become dormant'.
'The instructions for the deductions have come from the head office, we cannot do anything here.'
'A magnifying glass is available on request.'  And this is pinned on a notice board that is eight feet high!  Perhaps binoculars should be made available too.

All these petty excuses to avoid processing simple requests like updating a passbook or to withdraw a teeny tiny amount, makes us go 'out of order'  too. 

80 - WHY INDIBLOGGER?

I started to write blogs because I wanted to win prizes that were offered on a site called Indiblogger.  But for them to add me to their directory, I had to have at least twenty blogs. So I made it my mission to complete the magical number.  But after getting into Indiblogger, I felt the opposite of 'empowered', not sure what the exact word is. 

This site gives a rating in numerals, has a dashboard and a forum to post ideas or any topics that we would want other indibloggers to comment upon.  That was my understanding, but I was wrong of course.  And it is a very   strictly censored site,  but certain persons who run it, although that is not too clear.

What is clear is that 'no animals were harmed during the process' and I too can boast of the same thing. 

79 - A VISIT TO A POLICE STATION IN PUNE

Since January 2018, I have been trying to get a scooter that has been abandoned since almost three years, removed from the footpath on M G Road in Pune, camp.

1. First, I waited till the municipal garbage van came on its rounds and requested them to take away the rusted broken down eyesore of a scooter.  They refused, saying that it was not permitted that they should take away abandoned vehicles.

2. So, I wrote a letter to the Pune Municipal Corporation or PMC, and informed them about the abandoned vehicle and how it had become a vantage point for garbage to be dumped and rodents to thrive in.  But I did not even get a response to my letter.

3. Friends and relatives advised me to forget trying to get the rusted dilapidated vehicle removed and dismantled.  Anyway, I visited the traffic police chowky of the camp area, with a letter, giving the details of the license plate, the area and the problem.   They refused to even accept the letter and directed me to the crime branch in the same compound of the camp police headquarters.

4.  The crime branch of the camp area police chowky is much larger than the traffic police section, and a large screen shows the camera views from various vantage points on the main roads.  Pretty female cadets, with nail polished long nails, are chatting along happily, in marathi.  I was delegated to wait for the main officer to come in.  After almost 20 minutes, the male officer came and after listening to my complaint, refused to accept the letter, and directed me to submit it to the traffic police section.  So so frustrating!  I controlled my anger and informed them that they had sent me to this office.  After assuring me that action would be taken and that a crane would take away the abandoned scooter within a week, I was asked to go.

 5.  I waited patiently for one entire month, but no one removed the abandoned scooter.  So, I penned another request and made sure that my copy was signed and stamped and submitted, after cajoling the police staff for almost an hour.

6. Another month passed and nothing was done.

7.  This time I made six copies of the request, and submitted one to the PMC, one to the traffic police camp area, one to the crime branch of the camp area, one to the commissioner's office near GPO, one to the 'aamdaar' of the camp area and one for myself.   Nothing was done.

8.  I went back to the crime branch and the traffic head office of the camp area and they told me that work is done slowly but surely??   That at the moment they were busy with 'bandobast' and so could not take action.

9.  My last visit to the police chowky of the Pune camp area was on 27th August.  They directed me to the traffic branch again, and again the traffic branch sent me to the crime branch section.   Then I was asked to wait for the officer in charge to return from lunch.  While I waited for almost two hours, I observed the various complainants that arrived.

 One agitated gentleman had left his mobile in a rickshaw and was trying to lodge and FIR.  Another 'politician' was protesting how his picture and name had been misused on some public forum internet site and he wanted the culprit caught. After the head officer arrived, and dealt with both these complaints, my turn came, after waiting there for almost 3 hours.  The officer assured me that the abandoned vehicle would be taken away within half an hour, etc etc.

I was asked to go and be assured of quick action.  Nothing was done for the next two days since then.
It has been eight months now since I requested the 'authorities' to clear the abandoned vehicle.  This time I even showed them a copy of Mumbai Mirror, which had the first page story of how 'khatara' vehicles on Mumbai roads had been cleared.  I have requested Mr Adar Poonawala, the philanthropist who   has taken up the project of 'clean Pune', to intervene and clear out the eyesore, but even his workers claim that their hands are tied.

To anyone who can be effective, the scooter's license plate is MZD 4493,  and it is on the narrow footpath, opposite Kolsa Galli, on the Main Street end, outside Maharshtra Cheap Store, Macroman, at 75 MG Road, Pune Camp.  Presently, a homeless man has made the scooter his storing site and hoarded all sorts of materials, clothes, food packets and other items onto it.

What a challenge to get the machinery to move for a simple action required!  I feel exhausted.  Mr Modi boasted that we should all strive towards a clean India,  but it doesn't mean a thing to anyone else in India.

78 - ALL IS NOT 'FARE' IN TRAIN TRAVEL

Most train travelers are aware of what a 'platform ticket' is.  One costs rupees ten and about 10 minutes of waiting in a queue.  But,  is it necessary to buy any ticket at all?

Sitting in the general ladies'  compartment of a Pune Mumbai train, I was hassled by a very young beggar, maybe eight years old.  She was moving from one train window to the other, touching and irritating the passengers, begging with a very filthy extended hand.  

In order to get a window seat in a general compartment, one has to be seated in the train, about two hours in advance, and to get any seat, one has to be in the train, at least one hour in advance.   Add to that the ten to fifteen minutes one has to wait in the queue, to buy the ticket.  So, while sitting in the train, waiting for it to depart,  the passengers are approached by hawkers selling water, samosas, trinkets, wada pav, chikki, chai, toys etc,  but most of all by beggars in all shapes and sizes and age groups.  A young woman with a tiny baby in her arms, an old man reeking of beedi and booze,  urchins,  male and female, dirty and wearing smelly clothes,  their hair  all disheveled  and matty,  all just begging and making a living on the railway station.  There are gangs of upto ten to twelve women, each with a tiny baby in their arms, and ten to fifteen kids around them.   How do these professional beggars gain access to the railway platforms without any tickets or any railway authority checking their activities?    It is so obvious then that the authorities are hand in glove with these perpetrators and must be getting 'hafta'.   Many of these beggars use the train toilets and render them unfit for anyone else to use later.

When the train reaches Karjat,  the ladies' compartment is taken over by a gang of hawkers, usually a couple, with two to three babies in tow, selling trinkets.   The half naked babies, with snot oozing out of their nose, bedraggled hair, wander around the entire compartment, begging with an extended hand, from any passenger who is eating or drinking.  So they end up with handfuls of popcorn, wada pau, biscuit packets and chocolates.  Then they cry for water, so the women passengers give away their water bottles too.  All this while, the young parents are peddling their ware of cheap earrings and clips.  As the train reaches Dadar station, the empty seats were taken over by the peddlers' dirty kids.  One emptied all the popcorn that someone had given, onto the cushioned seats,  while the other ten month old relieved himself and did potty on the seats.  The mother came reluctantly and used some discarded newspaper to clean the mess.  It was a disgusting experience.  Are the railway authorities unaware of these going-ons?  The last beggar is usually the 'Salman Khan' topless young man, who uses a dirty rag to 'clean' the floor of the compartments, as he extends his hand to beg,  after pretending to 'clean' the floor.

The Indian Railways support these beggars, so keep up the philanthropy,  but be fair without class or creed, and do not penalize those who are 'ticketless' travelers.  And please stop selling the platform tickets, because they are so redundant,  if you just observe the persons that gain access to most railway platforms and trains too.

Sometimes I am so tempted to travel ticketless,  just pretending to hawk trinkets or chikki,  to prove a point to the railway authorities, how predominantly unwanted persons are on trains illegally  and that that is not how they will increase their popularity.

77 - POTHOLES AND MUMBAI

Today's news is rife with the death of a nine year old boy and a fifteen year old girl, who fell off their father's bike, which had the father, mother and these two siblings astride.  Everyone is cursing the potholes and the government and the maintenance of the Shahpur highway, where the accident occurred.  Every Television news channel is highlighting the numerous potholes on the numerous roads.  The truck driver that ran over the siblings when they fell off the bike, is absconding and is going to be arrested.

Not one journalist or any other person has voiced the opinion that why were four persons travelling on a two wheeler, and that too on a highway.  The parents are to blame as much as the police that failed to stop them from travelling overloaded on a two wheeler.  And then why does the RTO insist on two wheeler riders wearing a helmet?  One can just look at children and women riding pillion behind and in front of two wheeler riders.  

Mr.Tata invented the Nano car, so that nuclear families would not endanger themselves by overloading two wheelers.  Specially school children, who wear their school bags, water bottles and ride pillion in groups of three and four, on two wheelers.  Often the child who travels on a scooter, standing in front of the rider, crouches on half bent knees and rests his head on the handle, looking very uncomfortable.

All this does not take away the blame of the road maintenance department.  Better to have a kachcha rasta than to have a pucca rasta with potholes.

76 - FIRE . . .

Builders advertise a very rosy picture for flats to be sold.  The first page of newspapers flaunt exciting images and lucrative offers.

 Hiranandani builders, Thane,  offer 'an address that's lively, convenient and desirable'.   With tennis courts, tree lined avenues, landscaped gardens and an exclusive gymnasium in the building premises.

The Regency Group, Titwala,  promises 'your dream home with lakhs of savings'.  No GST, no stamp duty and no registration.  Besides these promises, they boast of having won various awards, the affordabloe segment by CNBC, environment friendly award,  Times realty award for affordable homes, etc.

RNA builders,Mira road, boast about children's play area, senior citizen garden, 24x7  cctv surveillance, etc.

Rustomjee Thane, advertises that it offers a balcony,a squash court, tennis court, mini theatre, swimming pool, mini golf, party hall, spa, tree surfing, yoga hall etc.

Ekta builders, Goregaon, has a full page ad that  says 'an address that will make your life  luxurious'.
They will give buyers an experience designed by Holyfield gymn, with international equipment, coupled with the finest luxuries and comforts to let you live healthy for your lifetime.  No hidden costs, no club charges, no infra charges, no outgoings.

The Ozone Group, Dadar, has advertised that they are selling lavish homes.  And that 'thank god, money can buy heaven.'  A concierge, a podium, zero bricks, crack free construction, fire safety ducts and a fire lift.

These are a few details of only the full page ads that appear in newspapers.  Besides there are countless offers of flats for sale and hire.  But yet, none are promising  that the premises has a foolproof fire fighting system, except one project that promises 'fire safety ducts'.  But nothing about the wiring, whether it is heavy duty copper or cheap aluminium.  No mention of the trip switches or the fuse box or the common electrical room precautions mentioned at all.

As a layperson, I do not comprehend a few of the items mentioned.  What is a 'dry fountain'??, no outgoing??,  infra charges??,  tree surfing??,  a dedicated fire lift??

There are so many things that can cause a fire, and a multi storey is a death trap, no matter how careful everyone is, because the residents overlook many risks that can lead to a fire.

1)  The wiring in flats is usually cheap aluminuim wiring, and it needs to be replaced with copper electrical wiring.
2)  Trip switches should match the gadgets installed in each house.
3)  The main fuse in the common metre room should also match the number of gadgets installed in each house.
4)  Servants should be trained as to how to handle electrical gadgets like irons,  geysers, ovens, chargers, ACs and also the gas of the cooking range.
5)  Children should be made aware of the dangers of misusing power for video games, mobile chargers etc.
6)  When new gadgets like a washing machine, or a fridge, or an oven are installed, the owner should make sure that the the plug point is matching.
7)  Rats are a major concern because they chew wires of electrical gadgets and that leads to short circuits and fire.

 Once when we had bought a new Godrej fridge, it was installed with a small size three pin plug.  Within two days of use, we noticed smoke and flames ensuing from the plug point and had to take steps to put off the fire,  and thank God we were just leaving the house to go out for a walk, when we noticed the flames.  The company was unapologetic and just replaced the plug with a bigger one of higher ampere.  The plug point that had burnt off had to be repaired at our own cost.

I recall that there was a dysfunctional geyser in the flat when I came to the house as a new bride and I decided to replace it and get it functional.  The shops are freely selling the gadgets one needs but there is no way that I can hire an electrician who is well trained.  I was directed to ask around for a plumber or an electrician among the squatters on the footpath at Nana Chowk or Tardeo.  How was I to ascertain the credentials or expertise of persons that squat on a footpath, waiting for odd jobs?  Some of them look so poor, with tattered clothes.  Anyway, one person came home and fixed the geyser.  The next day when I switched it on, there was smoke where the wire was joined to the main line.  The man returned and put in place a porcelain connector, which worked for a few days and then it also started smoking.  It was a horrifying experience, and I would just wait for the water to be heated by the afternoon sunlight, instead of using the geyser.  Many years later, the entire aluminium wiring of the house was replaced with copper wires and then the geyser too worked safely.  But most of the flats in the building still have aluminuim wiring.

Another time, I dropped the electrical iron and after a few days, there was a minor blast in it and smoke billowed from it, giving me  a fright.  But I switched off the mains and saved the situation.

At a certain workplace the AC went up in flames all of a sudden and it was later discovered that the rats had chewed the inner wiring causing a short circuit and so the flames.  And it happened twice, in different rooms at this workplace.

Recently, an article in a newspaper outlined the precautions that should be taken for the electrical wiring of highrises, by Mr.KKK Nair, an electrical expert.  But where is an expert when we want to install an AC or a washing machine, or even an oven?   The company offers 'free installation' and thats it.  The follow up for any problems have to be handled by others,  whose expertise we have no means of checking.

All schools teach about electricity at the senior levels, but there is no practical knowledge given.  It should be a compulsory subject in all schools, and every student should be trained in simple awareness about electricity gadgets, how to change a bulb, how wiring affects the electrical charges, how electricity is dangerous, how it can lead to shocks or a fire etc.

At bus stops, the advertisements have generators installed to supply power to the lighting at night.  I have warned children not to hug the pillars that support the electrical wiring, even when they are with their parents, who are quite oblivious of the dangers that  that can cause.  The worst aspect of electricity is that it cannot be seen, only felt.

Electrical giants like Kirloskar, Bajaj, Crompton Greaves, HBL, Emco, Havels, BHEL, Siemens, and service providers like Reliance, Tata, BEST, and retailers like Croma, Vijay sales, Kohinoor, Godrej, should all make it a point to educate students and hold camps at crowded slums, and housing societies, to educate people about wiring, amperes, short circuits, fuses, trip switches, etc.

I visit schools during any function like an interschool competition, sport's day  or a prize day or even any wedding and am appalled to see how fans and lights and speakers are installed with the naked wires poked into the plug points, without any earthing wire or plug.  The temporary connections are dealt with by contractors and so no one bothers to interfere,

It is the duty of the concerned principals and administrators, who hire them and pay them,  to be aware of these minor problems that could lead to a major accident.  But who will bell the cat??

75 - PARSEE NEW YEAR

Parsees are a very confusing lot.  Actually, the parsee and irani community are zorastrians.  But most people recognise the word 'parsee' only.  As a teacher and a zorastrian, I have always tried to educate my students about the name of the religion, that is 'zorastrianism'.   Zorastrians belong to three sects, according to my limited knowledge, faslis, kadmis and shehenshahees.

The faslis celebrate their Nowruz or 'new year', on March 21st, which all other zorastrians also celebrate, but as a 'new day' or a spring festival.  The calendar year of the shehenshahee zorastrians, or 'parsees' is celebrated in August, and the kadmi zorastrians or 'iranees',  celebrate their calendar new year or 'nowroze' a month earlier, sometime in July.

The last ten days of the old year are called muktad and are dedicated to praying and remembering the dead, by visiting a fire temple and lighting an oil lamp or divo, and dedicating a flowers in a vase, in memory of the dear departed.    The last day is called 'papeti' or 'pateti ', and is a day of repentance for all past bad deeds.  Nowroze is the new calendar year, and six days after this day, Khordad Saal is celebrated, which is supposed to be the birthday of the prophet Zarathustra.  So there are two khordad saals, one celebrated by the kadmi sect and the other by the shehenshahees.

It is during the March Nowroz, that a 'table' is arranged and seven objects that begin with the letter s are displayed for ten days to celebrate the equinox, seb (apple), sabze (sprouted wheat), sirke (vinegar), sir (garlic), surmai (kajaal), sharab (wine), shama (candle), sikkeh (coins), any seven  or even more is okay.  A mirror, painted eggs, goldfish, and the holy avesta are also displayed on a specially decorated table, to welcome spring, new life and guests, who are welcomed with a sprinkling of rose water and dry fruit or meweh.  I recall, my favourite as a child was that we always enjoyed falooda and sweet sev, during these celebrations.  My grandmother also made 'seerogh', a type of hand fried flat bread, flavoured with kishmish,, cumin seeds and coriander seeds,  which we enjoyed with mint chutney.

Zorastrians decorate the entrances of their homes with fresh flower torans and chalk designs on the floor.  Food is a major ingredient of the festivities, and pulao dal, patra-no-machchi, farcha, rotli, custard, ravo, are quite popular on the menu, but nowadays with the numerous world cuisines easily available, any type of  'bharnoo bhonoo' will do, so long as the ladies of the house can enjoy a day out.  A few visit a fire temple.  Most parsees, celebrate by having a day out to watch any parsee play or 'natak'.  And everyone wears new outfits and shows off.  Outside agiaries, poor persons beg for pateti baksheesh. And  parsees greet their relatives and friends in Canada, New Zealand, UK and Australia. 

What makes me frustrated is that, when school students represent the festivals of India, in various handcraft articles, like diyas for divali, wreaths and Xmas trees for christmas, dandiyas for navratri, a half moon and stars for eid, rakhees for raksha bhandhan, etc., but there is nothing to make to represent the parsee navroz festival.

My close acquaintance with colleagues who are christians, hindus, muslims, bohris, has made me aware of how close knit each community is, besides the parsees.  Only the parsees who live in a 'colony' become friends, otherwise there are very few occasions on which they can interact, unlike christians who have sunday school, and so many activities revolving around each parish, the bohris and muslims too have regular get togethers and celebrations, but parsees ......................

74 - INDEPENDENCE DAY.

On this day, in India, on 15th August,  all schools have flag hoisting and so, mostly senior school children are visible on the roads, early in the morning and returning by ten o'clock.  Sad to say that these kids litter the roads with wrappers of snacks that the schools distribute among them.   Worse still are the police personnel,  who board the public buses and then spit through the window.  Even the bus conductor refuses to scold them because they are 'vardiwalleh'.

Many readers may feel that I am being pessimistic, but it is the reality.  There is loud blaring music of patriotic songs,  that the local politicians take credit for.  It is an opportunity for local politicians to display life size posters of themselves, wishing random public a 'happy independence day'.   It is distressing to see the display of these lavish larger than life posters, displayed on  a street that is in dire need of pavement repairs, daily clean ups - which are not too effective, and potholes that need urgent repair.

At the road signals, urchins sell little flags and badges, and target people's 'patriotic' spirit, to make fast cash.

Nature's Basket, the posh grocery store, had arranged carrots, garlic, and green chillies, like a flag, with an avocado in the centre, and a border of potatoes.  Garment shops like Westside, Biba, Premsons, Amarsons and Meena Bazaar, clothe their mannequins in the tri colour.  Others use balloons to add a festive mood to bring out the Indian national flag colours.

The newspapers are splashed with full page advertisements of 'independence day discounts' if booking is done for a flat, a car, a mobile.  Electronic retailers like Croma, Vijay sales, Kohinoor, etc splurge on advertising their ware, promising 'slashed GST' rates just for Independence day.  Reliance retail and Big Bazaar outlets also offer discounts to lure customers, but if you visit these outlets, it is torture to stand in the serpentine ques to enter and to pay.  So why do these shops offer so many discounts on a particular day and then struggle to maintain the crowds?

Even the prime minister addresses the nation from the Red Fort and takes the opportunity to target and stigmatize the opposition parties.  My personal experience is that it does nothing to change the thick skinned 'rich' strata, who behave as crassly as they do on any given day.  This refers to riding off in their expensive cars with no regard for the changing traffic signal, talking insensitively to senior citizens or ladies that have the bad luck to be in their vicinity at a mall or a departmental store etc.

The speeches at schools and the speeches of ministers that are shown on the television, are reminders of the first independence day and the changes in the present, just brushing over reality and showcasing only the positives. Quite boring and so predictable.

73 - HEARSAY.

Travelling in a train does become interesting because of the conversations of the most unlikely co-passengers that one gets to hear.  This time my co-passengers, a muslim woman, one Hindu, another Hindu from UP, and five women that were three generations of another bhaiyya family, were choosing copper rings from a vendor, which triggered a conversation among them about gold jewellery.    One of them recounted how Hijras  had visited her home recently, and taken away her gold ring, in exchange for blessings for her newborn grandson. This led to rejoinders from the others about their horrific experiences when hijras have forcibly taken away gold necklaces and silver anklets from the new maternal and paternal grandmothers, by threatening them with dire curses if they do not comply.  Since I am a Zorastrian, their experiences were new to me.  It seems that hijras demand new and expensive sarees, food, slippers etc, from anyone who has a newborn in the family.

As the journey continued, the crowd in the general bogie got bloated to beyond its capacity.  The crowd swelled the most at Lonavla.  A very rich lady, with very very expensive luggage and three minor sons was one among them. The youngest son, about seven, whined on loudly and complained about wanting an AC bogie.  The older sons were quite happy to play with their expensive mobile phones.  And the women pampered the kids and offered them space to sit.  Toward the end of my journey, at Dadar,  a very young girl, hardly eighteen I guess, was selling clips and hairbands, with her three year old,  and since the crowd had shrunk now, she sat with her baby, who kept howling, and only kept quiet when she took out her mobile, an I phone, and let him handle it for a selfie.  So the conclusion is that whether rich or poor,  very young children are only pacified with a mobile in their hand.

Soon, a female chikki seller joined the clip seller and sat on the unoccupied seats.  Since she had kept her bag of goods near me, I picked it up to check out how heavy it was.  I could hardly lift it, it was very very heavy, with chikki packets and jelly sweets.  Striking a conversation, she recounted that she boards the afternoon train and goes up from her home at Badlapur, and s peddles her ware in four rounds, between Pune and Mumbai, upto twenty two hours.

Then a blind beggar joined them and began choosing hair clips.  Although blind, she insisted on choosing a specific colour.   All three, the clip seller, the chikki lady and the blind beggar, chatted with each other until we arrived at CSMT.

Along the journey, I was observing the station name boards, and they were all diamond shaped,  unlike the Grant Road sign that has become oval now.

All the rivers along the train journey were swollen and muddy.  The scenery between Khandala and Karjat is extremely verdant now, with pretty waterfalls along the steep cliffs.  But the Ulhas river is still black, with green oil stains and lots and lots of garbage all over.  As our train passed along Ulhasnagar and Vithalwadi, groups of young men could be seen and heard, practising drums, for the upcoming ganpati festival.  Quite a pleasant sound.

Most of the passengers doze off during the five and a half hour journey.  I make sure that I stay awake to take in the awesome views that the majestic western ghats offer.  The Monkey Hill stop was a real treat this time. There were a hundred monkeys of all ages, jumping up and down a huge tree, coming down to grab the foodstuff thrown toward them. 

 A window seat is everyone's coveted place.  It offers the best views of the western ghats.  If another train passes by, it gives a zoetrope effect,  and the view beyond the passing train is still visible through the windows and gaps between the bogies of the speeding train, very aptly demonstrating the principle of 'persistence of vision'.  At whichever age, a student learns about this principle, he should be allowed to experience the phenomenon with a train journey.  That is what I call 'education'.

Alighting at CSMT and then having to exit the platform and to exit the intercity concourse is very painful. There are three electronic entrances which have people rushing in and it is almost impossible to exit.  The authorities should have an 'IN' and 'OUT' status for each entry and exit point.

A recent addition is a open car moving around the platforms, aka the airport vehicles.  It had this message painted on it,  'This car is for hire.  Asked for a lift and make us happy.  Rs. 40 per ticket.'
Most of the travellers are too poor to pay so much, just to go upto their bogie, or from their bogie upto the exit.  So many beggars are on the platforms and inside the trains, without tickets or the Rs.20 platform ticket.  And no one cares.  Yet the police are stationed at every entry and exit point, behind sandbags, with machine guns pointed at the public.

Somehow, in the melee of people, I manage to head home safely.

72 - ENGLISH VINGLISH, MARATHI SWARATHI, HINDI FINDI......

English is perhaps the only language that has an upper case and a lower case.  After a fullstop, a capital letter is used, and proper nouns too have a capital letter.  In Marathi, Hindi, Urdu, Gujarati, etc there is no need to use capitals. Also the pronunciation of every word is not too predictable.  Very often English words are pronounced incorrectly,  which is not the case with most other languages as the written word can be read as is.

 In India, most of the citizens are not familiar with English speaking and so they tend to translate from marathi or hindi, and then format the english sentence, which leads to hilarious sentences.  So if  the Hindi phrase of  'Aap kaiseh hai?'  gets translated as 'You how are?'

If you do not read good novels and classical stories,  then you are at risk to format incorrect sentences too.  Spellings also go for a toss.  I have been very puzzled after perusing certain items on a menu.  So there is  a "paper sandwich"  correct spelling should have been "pepper",  and the "chess sandwich" meaning a "cheese sandwich".    And these two misspellings were painted on the menu board of the Mumbai university at Kalina.

Everyday I pass the Aditya Birla school lane at Tardeo and feel chagrined to read the signboard that they have displayed at the entrance of the lane leading towards their school.  It reads, 'School children alighting and get off.'  In Pune there is a bench on MG Road which has this painted on it 'siniour citizen bench'.  In a Virar local,. the neon light message reads 'Emergency number of ladies passengers.............'.  One Union Bank branch has this message displayed, 'Account will be freeze in case of non submission of KYC'.

And I fail to understand why the BMC has painted an English phrase in the Hindi script on its garbage trucks,  'clean up'?  Also, the hindi and marathi words for 'please',   'sorry'  and 'thank you' are almost redundant, and everyone uses the english options, even when conversing in a colloquial format or in any local language like gujarati, marathi and hindi.

Very often, the speaker makes a mistake, and the listeners are unaware of its incorrectness, so 'all is well'.

71 - WHY ENDURE ? JAPAN'S IDEA IS A SOLUTION.

Every year Mumbai gets flooded and people suffer.  Then they forget all about the situation when the season changes.  It leads to leptospirosis and death.  After the water recedes, mosquitoes breed and it leads to chikungunya, malaria, dengue, and typhoid.  Besides the ground floor houses that get flooded, suffer sewer water enundiating their homes, furniture and electrical appliances like fridges, TVs, ACs , washing machines, getting defunct.  It is beyond my thinking, as to how they manage to answer nature's call for so many days, when the toilets are flooded too.  I have witnessed a ground floor home getting flooded.  The bedroom had soaked mattresses and the toilet had excreta floating up and into the other rooms.  Sic.  So it should be the priority of the concerned municipality to take proper precautions to prevent the flooding.  But they blame it on the high tide and the insufficient and outdated drainage systems.  Okay, so if everyone is aware of the problems, then why is there no effective solution? 

But obviously the high and mighty in this land are not affected directly and so they don't seem to care about the common man's plight.

National Geographic has done a review of the underground 'temple-like' storage tanks of Japan, that help to keep the city of Tokyo, free of flooding.  In 2001, Tokyo suffered severe flooding due to heavy rain.  And so they built a system of giant underground tunnels, six and a half kilometers long.  Each tunnel is ten meters in diameter and it allows the rain water to collect into this space and then be drained methodically into the Edo river. 

Our prime minister, Mr.Modi, should borrow this innovative idea from Japan, instead of the Bullet train technology.