The Little Known French Balasore

About my forthcoming book , "The Little Known French Balasore":

That France had five colonies in India – Pondicherry, Karaikal, Yanam, Chandernagore, Yanam and Mahe’, is well known. What is not so widely known is that that besides these 5 colonies, they also had tiny territories which they had taken under their control for running trade. These were called “Loges” and were located at Balasore, Surat, Masulipatam, Calicut, Patna and Dacca. The focus of this brief paper is the erstwhile French ‘Loge’ situated in Balasore district of Orissa.

Imagine a small town in 17^th century india which had a Foreigners Colony, where the Portugese, the Dutch, the Danes, the French and the British all had their trading houses/factories and residential houses. This was Balasore around 1640-1680. Did we know that the textiles products exported from Balasore to Europe were considered to be of such uniqueness and high quality that muslin handkerchiefs of Balasore became famous as “Balasore Handkerchiefs” and an Englishman set up a factory in England to manufacture ‘Balasore Handkerchiefs’!

Equally fascinating is the information that Balasore was a centre of ship building and ship repair and its people were sought after by the foreign vessels for guiding them through the mouth of the Ganges. So welknown was Balasore in the nautical circles around the world that in 1872, a ship built in Glasgow in UK, was christened ‘Balasore’! And not many know that an Ashram set up in the French Balasore by the ‘satyagrahis’ inspired by Gandhiji and epousing the cause of India’s independence, became a major irritant for the British and a number of letters were exchanged between the British and the French over this issue.

One will find details of these and more in this book.

NOT SECOND BUT SUPERIOR SEX

It was decades back that I saw Roger Vadim’s reputed film ‘And God Created Woman’ starring the French beauty Brigitte Bardot, who in those days was famous, not for her concern for the animals, but for arousing animal passions in men. Soon thereafter I came across another French masterpiece, Simone De Beauvoir’s famous book ‘The Second Sex’, which I read rather impatiently. But it aroused emotions totally different from what I had imagined – it made me feel uncomfortable and I started feeling sorry for women. I thought that God had been unkind to the female of the human species. Now looking back, I realize that I had got it all wrong. It is not the God almighty but the male of the species who has been unfair to the females, not only in India but across the globe and right from the beginning of the civilization.

The recently released World Population Report 1997, which has the theme “The Right to Choose: Reproductive Rights and Reproductive Health” focuses on the denial of sexual and reproductive rights to women. The Report says that violence against women may be the most pervasive and least recognized human rights abuse in the world. The Report gives the shocking figures that in India there is a rape every 54 minutes, a molestation every 26 minutes, a reported dowry death every hour and 42 minutes and one act of cruelty every 33 minutes! Is this cruelty inherent in the male character?

To this question, the Report explains that gender violence, physical and emotional, perpetuates male power and control, and that studies link violence against women to male socialization and peer pressure rather than to biology or sexuality. Thus, appropriate sensitization of young children to the concept of gender equality is likely to have a positive impact during the later years of life.

Some men quote scriptures to justify their viewpoint. After all did our texts not say that “three things deserve a thrashing – a drum, a village simpleton and a woman”! Surely no one would have advocated that women should be beaten up. Besides the physical and mental suffering inflicted on women by men, women also face illiteracy and poor health care. Do we still not see the sad spectacle of widows being deprived not only of their property but also of the basic human dignity?

Even in countries like the U.S.A. and France, women were kept away from the decision-making process by denying them the right to vote. As recently as a year back, a lone woman trainee in a prestigious U.S. military academy had to leave just days after joining because of the hostile reaction of the all male set-up. And we in India are supposed to look up to the West for cultural refinement!

A woman’s life can be divided into two curiously distinct phases – pre-marriage and post-marriage. She faces a total uprooting at the time of the marriage. It is to her credit that she manages this transition with dignity and grace. Unfortunately post-marital adjustment means, at least in the Indian context, that it is the woman who has to change her personality to suit the requirements of the husband and his family. And as if this were not sufficient, in some parts of the country, the woman has even to change her name besides of course the surname, at the time of the marriage. How insensitive can we males become!

With more and more women joining the workforce, it is a common, though grudgingly conceded feeling that women are more sincere, reliable and honest in the work entrusted to them. Add to it the fact that the new technology is gender-neutral. The male of the species is in trouble.

Women are coming out of their houses to join the structured work environment. The modern work environment does not differentiate between the sexes. Weather the worker behind the desk is a male or a female, what is required is the daily output of work. The male argument is heartlessly simple. If women want equality then where is the question of any special consideration for them on the workplace?

But the problems do not end here. The urban working woman faces discrimination at every step. It is she who has to wake up her lord and master- the husband- with a cup of tea and at least a smile. Then wake up the kids and get them ready for school, prepare breakfast and food and then get ready to go to her office. In the over crowded bus, she has to quietly tolerate lecherous looks, vulgar remarks and at times, deliberate pushing and pawing by men. The same person who misbehaves with a lady in a bus may be having a sister or a daughter at home and his blood would boil if someone were to misbehave with any woman of his family.

In the office too, harassment by male colleagues may not be totally absent. At the end of the day she has to repeat the bus journey back to home. And then she reaches home, harassed and humiliated. But even on reaching home, there is no rest for her, not even some soft, soothing words. She is supposed to quickly change into the role of an ideal housewife, cook dinner, clean utensils and help the children with their homework. She has no time to watch her favorite programme on TV. Totally tired, she falls on her bed. But alas her duties are not yet over. The heartless husband is waiting for his pound of flesh.

Women create life, give birth and thus contribute to the continuance of the human presence on this planet. Male of the species has a limited, rather momentary role, in the creation of life. Nature has kept the male away from the privilege of creating life in his body and of the curious phenomenon of experiencing pleasure in pain at the time of childbirth. It is the woman who carries new life in her womb day and night, sharing her own flesh and blood with this little life. And then comes the time when the tiny human being is ready to enter the world. It is the woman who has to go through labour pains to give birth to the baby. The ability to tolerate pain and the patience that it brings with it, helps her at other stages of her life too.

Even after the childbirth, the close connection between the mother and the child continues through breast-feeding. Here again God has given the role of nurturing the newborn to the woman. No wonder this results in a lifelong relationship between the mother and the child which no father-child relationship can match. When in pain, it is the word ‘mother’ which involuntarily escapes from our lips. Man may be the provider of the family in terms of financial or physical needs, but it is the woman who plays the predominant role in bringing up the children. In a sense, she carries the civilization further.

And then there is the well known though overstated fact of women being more beautiful physically, more sweet and with a more charming voice. Recently, the tough Cuban leader Fidel Castro is reported to have expressed his admiration for women. “Woman is the most delicate thing in the world… companion in happiness, pleasure, feelings, ideas and aims, in the past, present and in the future, one minute or a lifetime, woman deserves an irreproachable and sacred veneration in the inner most chamber of a man’s heart”, he said. Earlier, the famous Sir Francis Bacon had very pithily presented the reliance of man on woman in different phases of his life, “wives are young men’s mistresses, companion for middle age and old men’s nurses”.

Would it be wrong to say that women are embodiments of sacrifice? Who can deny the sacrifice of a mother for her offspring? We Indians would prefer to have a son rather than a daughter. But ask old people – the love, affection and loving care which a daughter has for her parents is far above the treatment meted out to the old parents by innumerable sons. It is women who maintain their equanimity in times of difficulties and sustain the morale of the family and when the need arises, can be really tough. It is not for nothing that in India women are considered the embodiments of power represented by Shakti or Kali.

No, women are not the Second Sex but the Superior Sex. I am sure that they shall overcome, not some day, but very soon, the infirmities and inequalities forced on them by men.

(Published in The Tribune, Chandigarh, July, 20, 1997)

Emergency Response

I was thumbing through a two year old issue of a magazine* and saw this interesting paragraph in the advertisement put in by an IT Multinational:

"Following the terrorist attacks of March 2004, the city (of Madrid) developed a new Emergency Response Center. So today, when a citizen witnesses an accident and places an emergency call, the system simultaneously alerts the police, the ambulance service and , if needed, the fire brigade. This smart system can recognize if alerts from several different sources relate to a single or multiple incidents, and assign the right resources based on the requirements coming from the ground."

* Time, July 20, 2009.

Teri To * * * * * *

My son was visiting me last week. Appreciating my new car he saw a baton (danda) on the back seat. What is this for, he asked. Well you would have seen that every bus driver and truck driver in India keeps one for self defence, was my explanation. But why on the back seat, he went on to puncture my defences adding ‘by the time you retrieve it the opponent would have given you a few blows.’ I conceded his argument by repositioning the ‘danda’ near my driving seat.

This morning I went to the nearby Manimajra Post Office to send a Speed Post. I chose an empty slot in the Manimajra Motor Market and parked my car well. When I returned after ten minutes I found a white car parked at the back of my car in such a way that I just couldn’t take it out. I asked the mechanics repairing the cars on the right and the left but they all conveyed their ignorance. Then I went to the branch of the Bank nearby as also the Post Office and annouced the number of the car and asked various people if the car belonged to them. But no luck.

I remembered the advice of a very dear friend of mine who had said recently “Chat, Try not to get rattled by small things. Khush Raha Karo. ” So I decided not to spoil me mood and my day. I strolled around in the verandah opposite the parking spot and stopped at a tea shop. I waited patiently for my cuppa, which was surprisingly good. I paid the money and moved back but there was still no sign of the owner of the white car.

I just put my hand on the car and waited. And then after a long, long wait, he arrived. He was just the man I had imagined him to be- hardly forty, heavy with his tummy bulging out in almost an obscene way and munching and chewing something. He ignored me completely, opened his car, reversed it and made space for my car to leave, all the time sitting in his car.

I went to his car and gently tapped at the window and said Sir, would you please come out for a minute?” He feigned as if he had not heard me and started playing with papers in his car. I tapped again and this time more vigorously and repeated, this time more loudly, “Would you please come out of your car for a minute.” By the time a small crowd had gathered hoping to see some ‘tamasha’

And he came out, his face showing apprehension and confusion. I bent fully and touched both his feet and said, “God bless you. May God give you all that you ask for.” Taken aback, he just mumbled that he had asked the mechanic to park his car elsewhere but the mechanic had forgotten. No addmission of mistake, no apology, not even a sorry, nothing. But I was very happy and strangely content.

Thank you Bapu. I have realised that I do not need a ‘danda’ in my car and have thrown it away.

And thank you Dear Friend for your advice not to get rattled by small things.

Voluntary Blood Donation & Women

A very recently published article in the Times of India says loudly "Indian women don't believe in donating blood"and then goes on to state the following: "According to the first ever data bank on gender distribution of blood donors, India has among the lowest number of female blood donors in the world. Compiled by theWorld Health Organisation, the data bank says that of the 4.6 million donations in 2008, only 6% donations were by women. The rest 94% were male donors."

While one may not be able to challenge the figures, the conclusion drawn that Indian women dont believe in donating blood is not fair. We should not overlook the fact that women have, in a large number of cases, to be dependent on their male family members for taking them to the blood donation centres/camps. Besides as we know, a good number of women, especially the young girls, are anaemic- for which causes may be many but malnutrition is surely one of the major reasons.

From Helsinki to Hemkund Sahib

On return from a tiring two week trip to the Arctic Circle, I was at Helsinki. I had an evening free before catching the flight back to Delhi. Not being a fan of the western cuisine, what I had missed most during the trip was the Indian food. I just could not wait for another day to have my favourite chicken curry and tandoori roti.

Somewhat hesitantly, I asked the lady at the reception of the hotel if there was an Indian restaurant nearby. Just a minute, she said and after a quick turning of some pages and deft clicks on the computer, she took out a map of Helsinki and on the bottom of it wrote “Sandeep” and the address “22, Lonnrotinkatu”. She explained the location on the map to me and said that it should take me about ten minutes to reach the restaurant on foot.

When I found myself in front of the Indian restaurant. I walked in confidently as if I owned the place. “Hello”, said a short well built Indian. I returned the greeting and he took me to a seat. There was just one local couple in the small dinning hall. I was promptly handed a detailed menu. Without even looking at it, I burst out “chicken curry and tandoori roti”.

He nodded and left and returned after conveying the order to the chef. I invited him to take the seat in front and we started chatting. I began by asking in Hindi, “Where in India are you from”. Jallandhar, he smiled and the thaw was complete when I told him that I was from Chandigarh. And the rest of our conversation was in Punjabi. His name was Gurdev.

“Sirji your drink’s on me” Gurdev insisted till I offered him the well-rehearsed story about alcohol not suiting me. Soon the food arrived. It was in a thali complete with Cucumber Raita and ‘Chana dal’, salad and a generous helping of chicken curry. The piece-de-resistance turned out to be the tandoori roti. It was a huge and well baked with a topping of butter. I could resist no longer and started eating. The chicken curry was good but the roti was, I can say with confidence, the best I have had in 65 years of my existence. On my praise for the roti, Gurdev called out to the chef, who happened to be from Lahore, not far from my birthplace - Sialkot in Pakistan.

In the meantime Gurdev’s mobile emitted a short beep. On reading the SMS his face lit up. It is from one of my friends, he shared. ‘Is he also from Jallandhar, I joked.

‘No, no. He is a boy from Finland and works as a Bouncer in one of the local night clubs, he said before going to tell me about his friend. The Finnish youth would dine at Gurdev’s restaurant before they became friends. A year on, he was diagnosed with cancer. Since he was physically very strong, the doctors were hopeful he could be cured with positive attitude along with medication. He was given books about true stories of cancer survivors, on reading which he developed a deep resolve to fight the disease.

One day Gurdev told him of the Sikh Holy pilgrimage centre of Hemkund Sahib and how people endure the hardship of climbing 15,000 feet up into the Himalayas to get there. At this stage I told him that I had gone to the myself from telling him that I went to Hemkund Sahib for the first time in 1981 before visiting the shrine twice again. Gurdev nodded in appreciation and went with his friend’s story.

He jotted down the correct spellings of his Finnish friend’s name and told him that he would send the script to India to get a special ‘ardasa’ or prayer for him at Hemkund Sahib. Gurdev kept his word and his friend gradually started showing signs of improvement.

Gurdev read out the SMS he had come a few minutes back. It read: “I am very keen to visit Hemkund Sahib to say my thanks. Let us go there next year in June. Please book two air tickets for you and me when you find a good deal in tickets. Thanks.”

I was over with lunch by then and Gurdev refused to accept bill from me. Instead he touched my feet. With great difficulty I could persuade him to take half the amount.

I left the restaurant mulling over various layers surrounding the lovely afternoon – A wrap of India, Pakistan and Finnish bonhomie over food, friendship and, above all, faith.

(This was published in The Hindustan Times on Monday, January 11, 2010)

I am in Love!

Today is the start of the famous "Rath Yatra" at Jagannath Puri. On this occassion I share below an article about Odisha which I wrote way back in 1998.

"Again. Once again. At 55, I am unashamedly in love again. And this time, in love forever. No, this love affair is not with a lovely lady half my age. This time it is with Odisha that I have fallen in love with!

After about thirty years of service when I left Odisha about two years back to join the prestigious Indian Institute of Advanced Study at Shimla, I thought that I would feel wholly at home with the hills that I am fascinated with. I had planned to climb down to Chandigarh at the end of the deputation period of three years and lead a quiet retired life. But now I have discovered that, to twist the words of Marc Anthony a little, not that I don’t love the hills any longer, but that I love Odisha more!

While in Odisha, I thought that I did not like sea and had even led myself to believe that I was allergic to sea. Now, staying far, far away from the sea, at an elevation of about 7000 feet, I long to be near the sea. I remember the lovely sea breeze of Puri that makes one forget all the worldly worries. I wonder if it is just the impact of the sea breeze or it is a gift or blessing of Lord Jagannath to its devotees!

No, there is no other place in the world like the abode of Lord Jagannath. A visit to the Lord Jagannath Temple is a strangely soothing and uplifting experience. The atmosphere inside the temple, with a multitude of devotees coming from all parts of the country to have a glimpse of their Lord, the brisk movement of the learned Pandas, and the chants of ‘Jai Jagannath’ flash upon my mind again and again. The sweet sound of cymbals, the chanting of prayers and the whole ambience at the time of the evening ‘aarti’ are amongst my most treasured memories.

Having visited various parts of the world and tasted food of different countries, I can convincingly testify that there is nothing like the ‘bhoga’ of Lord Jagannath’s Templeanywhere in the world. Each item is hygienically prepared, astounding both in the range of preparations as well as in quantity and tantalizingly tasty. And from the ‘bhoga’ of the Lord to the ordinary food. How much I miss the delicious ‘daalma’ and the ‘baigan bhaja’, the savoury ‘santula’ and of course the cool ‘pakhal-bhaat’! No wonder the Oriyas are recognized amongst the best cooks in the world.

The world is slowly waking up to the all round potential of Orissa. I remember that two years back when I left the state, it was already becoming clear that Odisha was on the threshold of a major industrial leap. A recent Survey of Investment Projects undertaken by the Centre for Monitoring Indian Economy (CMIE) confirmed that this has all ready become a reality. Its findings show that Odisha has emerged as the most favoured destination for Foreign Direct Investment in India, displacing states like Maharashtra, Gujrat and Tamil Nadu. Bravo Odisha! Ofcourse this is nothing new for Odisha which has a wonderfully rich history. In the past too, it had reached high levels of development, reflected in its long trading and cultural links with Bali and other Indonesian islands.

In the areas of art and architecture too, Odisha is unmatched. I remember that I had cried when I saw Konark temple for the first time in the late 1960’s. Rising above the outward eroticism, there is really an amazing world to be discovered in that temple—a touch of humour somewhere, a new hairstyle at another place and fascinating stories frozen in stone by the craftsmen of Odisha. I would love to visit Konark again, and again. I had another association with Konark too. I worked for sometime with the State owned Konark Television Company and had coined a publicity slogan, “Orissa has two Konarks to be proud of”.

And I miss Odisha in the rains. During the monsoons, the entire landscape turns lush green and a cool breeze keeps you company. One can see the fury with which rain descends and dark clouds coming from the Bay of Bengal keep on coming, almost endlessly.

I remember the evenings spent by me sitting in the cool breeze of the seven coconut trees in the lawn of my government bungalow in Bhubaneshwar. The trees bore nuts with incredibly sweet water. I used to enjoy as many nuts as I could and distribute the rest. One evening a very senior officer from Odisha posted in Delhi, suddenly came to my house and jocularly demanded his share of coconuts. He subsequently disclosed that he was the first occupant of that house and it was he who had planted those trees. Before leaving Odisha, I too had planted seven more coconut trees in that house. I am now naturally keen to see how big those coconut trees have become. Yes, I have decided to go back to Odisha. "

(Published in ‘Sun Times’, Bhubaneshwar, September 19, 1998)