Marching to a New India

 A Blog begun years ago as a stroll on the Funny Side of Serious Street, highlighting India's problems. Revived by adding memories of old Bombay, including excerpts from Dreams of One Country.

 Marching to a New India
(Excerpt 7 - from  Aiming High, a chapter in my novel Dreams of One Country, Amazon Books.)

Ten days later Norman got the letter he had anxiously waited for. Three pages long, with post-scripts added over several days. Priya told him to be strong - for his family’s sake and her. The last page described an unexpected event. On reaching Allahabad she had learnt that Jaiprakash Narayan was on a short visit to the city for medical tests. She went to see him with an elderly lady, Uncleji’s relation, who knew JP from their college days. Priya thanked Jaiprakashji for arousing hope in the people. She gave him a copy of Aiming High’s summary and said the book’s stories described the grassroots realities stifling the country. And it outlined steps essential for India to progress and find a place of honour in the world. As she was leaving, Priya mentioned she hoped to get an opportunity to do something useful for his campaign. JP asked some questions about her educational background. Then he told her the man dealing with the press at the main Patna office would welcome a good assistant. A day later Priya accepted JP’s offer.

Uncleji had no objections to her working for JP, but told her to stay with his younger brother Ganshyam’s family in Patna. Ganshyam managed Jha’s factories in Bihar. She was relieved to escape a confrontation with Uncleji. Radheshyam Jha was close to the ruling party. But he also had the reputation of having a foot in every camp.

A post-script from Patna was more news. JP had given the book summary to a British journalist. A Harold Wynant. Or Winant? She was unsure of the spelling. ‘And just today,’ Priya wrote, ‘barely one week after joining the Patna office, JP has assigned me a different job – to coordinate activities of Chatra Sangarsh, the movement’s youth wing across the country. JP said it’s more important work. So I’m busy, my love.’

In his reply Norman said he was reeling at the turn of events in her life. In closing he said her love was the one wondrous event of his life. He addressed it to her office.

                                                                     

On Dasara morning a loudspeaker near Himalay blared out Hindi film songs. During this festival people honour their tools of work and possessions. Most of the cars on the road were washed and garlanded with stringed mango leaves and marigold, the few big imported ones more flower-decked than the rest. One more opportunity, Norman knew, for our haves to flaunt. Over the Himalay lawns a squadron of dragon flies, coppery in the sun, performed aerobatics. He was under the shower when he remembered Cy was leaving that day. While rushing out he picked a letter dropped by the postman that had gone under a stool. It was from Priya. He went by taxi, yet missed the flight. Sorry, Cy, he thought. Having come so close to Juhu Norman wanted to see Priyasmeet again. He crossed the footbridge near Santacruz station and got a bus to the beach.

Inside the cottage gate cannas splashed colour. A car stood in the driveway. Maybe her parents are here, he thought. He ambled along the hedge, peeping in through leafy chinks like a shy intruder. He tried, but could not quite recall the view from the verandah. How inexorably yesterdays fade in memory, he thought. An unseen mower clacked away, spicing the air with the sappy scent of grass. He walked down the path to the beach, trampling a tangle of ipomoea creepers with mauve trumpet flowers. Over the sea white wings moved languidly. Low tide spread unhurriedly on the sand. He sat in the lookout tower’s shade and read Priya’s letter. Wynant had told JP that a London agent would see the MS.    

She wrote: ‘This is our chance. Please finish Aiming High. Norman, I miss you all the time. I hear you singing. And in mind’s eye I see the little gestures that become you. Your shrug. And the quick smile. If I concentrate too much your face fades away. But I thank God for every memory. My dearest, do you know where these lines are from?

“How like a winter hath my absence been

From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!

What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!”

A Shakespeare sonnet? Norman stopped reading and inhaled deeply. The sea air was not anaesthetic. He stood up. Afar, a tern dive-bombed into the water for fish - in a tiny burst of whiteness. It rose again to join the low-flying flock. Above Creado’s shack he saw Priyasmeet’s tiled roof. A fleeting year? he wondered. Was it all? Our story’s end? No! No! No! He walked on and re-read the verse she had quoted. In the sea wind rushing in his ears he heard the lines faintly. In Priya’s voice.

                                                                

They paid little for Dad’s lifetime of service to the railways - just about covered his debts. Worse, an officer created impediments to collect a bribe. Four months passed before the Himalay flat was transferred to a company executive. The rent-and-pugdee system was giving way to self-owned flats. With a down payment Norman got a fifth floor cubby-hole near Priyasmeet. A room, kitchen and bath. He placed the remaining forty-five thousand in a fixed deposit for Mums at a Mussoorie bank.

In her next letter Priya wrote: ‘Uncleji is hard to predict. He hasn’t said a harsh word to me since that day in Bombay. Of course, his brother keeps a hawk’s eye on me here in Patna. I’m quite sure Uncleji expects to see a patch-up with Rajinder. But I want no part of that family. My parents gave up the Goregaon bungalow and are living at Priyasmeet. You may pass them on the beach without knowing who they are.

‘Truly, my dearest, I can’t see enough to believe there’s a future for us. But I carry a flame of hope. Emotions are so strange. So binding. You and me. And I love my parents to distraction despite hating what they did as part of the system.

‘Norman, in JP I see nobility and trust. In today’s circumstances both can be weaknesses. He encourages me to speak about my views on issues. I talk to him honestly. My work is increasing. Later, I’ll be travelling often. So you’ll have to write care of Asha Tiwari, a girl who works with me at the office. You can trust her.’

                                                                   

Norman kept Priya informed of the book’s progress. His friend Leo was the model for the lead character of half the stories. Priya listed a few other state-of-the-country issues that occurred to her, which he could consider writing about.

                                                                    

Norman recalled Dad’s cynicism about JP while reading a Priya letter full of admiration for the man. She wrote: ‘Huge crowds attend his meetings. Common people love him. He himself admits his efforts to get zamindars, the big land owners, to be kind to their poor brethren had failed. But years of walking from village to village had taught him how our poor and low castes were exploited. JP believes his movement will grow strong if he lives for another five years. If not, others like me (Yes, my love, he said it.) should continue his mission. He wants an awakened people to clean up public life. He said neither the people nor the leaders realized that self-rule was far more difficult than winning freedom. Many of our politicians took the easier way. To burn and destroy was easy. To misuse freedom was easy. To divide a people with anger or hate was easy. But to build a country was impossible - unless everyone shared the responsibility. (In italics only for this blog post.)'                                                                

   

Norman completed the book in five months of hard work. Two more months went in redacting and finalizing the manuscript. He sent it to Priya. At July end 1974 he signed on with the agent introduced by the British journalist. That November the book found a home. The publisher suggested several editorial changes. More work. 

Events are racing, he thought. To the point where I expect something new in each letter from Priya. He wrote to her he could not stop rubbing his eyes at the circumstances now driving them both. ‘My precious one, where are we headed?’ he asked.                                                                 

*

Priya sought Norman’s ideas on making the youth movement truly vibrant and purposeful for the country’s future. She would have liked nothing better than to work with him as a team. That was not possible in the near future. Not till she was free of the Jhas. Besides, Cy had told her what Norman was going through.   

In the Patna unit of the Chatra Sangharsh, she started a discussion group called Ek Desh or One Country, the title of Norman’s short story. JP approved the step. He asked all Sangharsh units to form Ek Desh groups to debate humanitarian values and progressive ideas. A month later Priya discussed with JP the pros and cons of starting a political party of youth to push for positive change in the country. JP was against his movement entering politics. He believed in motivating the people to bring about change. Her argument was that change was difficult in a vast land with so much counter-productive thinking. To lift India to new heights required a government, one with vision, one led by a bold, trusted and inspiring leader. Priya referred to Ataturk modernizing Turkey. ‘Now we have you,’ she said.                                                               

After three meetings Priya wrote to Norman that JP remained unconvinced. ‘He sees logic in my views and sincerity in my dedication to the country. But he’s determined to keep his movement outside party politics. In that case, I told him, I would have to think of doing it myself. He did not get angry, but said he would not be a part of it. He asked her to be cautious, because politics can easily destroy character. On the other hand he’s dismayed that there are many opposition parties, divided by ideology and pettiness. He is keen to see them come together for a common cause – to save and protect the people of this country. That’s his other concern: to try to transform Indian politics.’

In the midst of her work for JP, Priya made plans to start a new party. She discussed ideas with some of the Sangarsh’s student leaders. In letters to Norman she elicited his opinion on the steps she was considering and some suggestions by students.

Ek Desh’s launch in March 1975 went unnoticed by the media. All initial members were from JP’s youth wing, the Chatra Sangharsh. In the months that followed Priya and a band of young men and women met and explained Ek Desh’s objectives to youth groups - in states like Bihar, Maharashtra and Gujarat where the Sangarsh was strong. She wrote to Norman that Uncleji too did not approve of the direction she was taking, but did not try to stop her. ‘Norman, I keep wishing you were here. Can you believe it, my love? Just months ago it was Quixotic tilting. Wishful thinking. Now I’m at the hub of a nascent national movement of youth dedicated to building the dream we call One Country.’

        

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Tail-Lights:

India Illuminiscopic:
Check out Dreams of One Country by Jagjit (and John Daniel).  If the novel's Revolutionary Theme - the March to a New Ek Desh India - appeals to you, you can download it from Amazon.com. on any device: I phones, pads or computers. In our story of a 21st Century India, youth lead the people to unite as Ek Desh (One Country). It's the story of striving to transform India into an enlightened and truly modern nation

2. TipTop Health Tip

The idea must be learnt preferably in youth. It's scientifically proven that - in addition to a diet that includes a variety of vegetables and some fruit every day - exercise reduces the incidence of major problems like heart disease and cancers. Other benefits too. It stimulates body defence and immune systems, sharpens mental activity, acts as a mood elevator and contributes to positive thinking. About half hour daily, five days a week. Exercise works over a period of time. (Don't expect results tomorrow.) And it should be aerobic exercise that makes the heart pump faster, the lungs work harder. Walking around joking with friends, laughter sessions, sitting in a pretty yoga pose or waving Feng Shui flags in slow motion can be mind relaxing, but it's fooling oneself to call that exercise. Those are ways of pretending you're exercising while avoiding the hard work. It has to be jogging if you like to travel while exercising or a treadmill if you don't want to see the landscape changing. And let me tell you, as you go on with it you won't feel it's hard work. You'll enjoy it.

The benefits of exercise are described in our book Doctor at Home - by Jagjit Daniel and John Daniel.

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