The child with the mountain of courage

A crusher machine is grumbling. A wheel is spinning crushing the stones. A man shoveling and pushing the big  stones into the crushing area like a man feeding the coal into a running steam train engine. Air is dusty all around. It is making the sweaty body more sticky. The conveyor belt is carrying the stone chips and piling it up to be taken by the trucks to construction areas. These stones will be used by the for the developmental work to make roads and railway tracks. It is a place near Raipur Chhattisgarh where these stone mining are happening for the fast developing state. 

There was nothing beautiful about this scenery. Then why this small child is sitting constantly and lost himself with the sound of the grinding machines? He has wear a cap and without afraiding the dust and parching sun above. 

I went near him and asked what is there so beautiful he is looking at?  
My cousin is working there. He replied 
His name was Santosh Kumar Kaushale and lives in the nearby village. 
It is just that his shift is over, he was taking some rest. 

You must be 12-13 years old, why don't you study why you are working here I asked. 
I earn money here from here. 
He earns a mere 2500 rupees and gives 2000 to 2200 rupees at his home to feed a family of three sister and parents. 

I was spellbound by the words of this courage of the dusty child. At my age I am still asking money from my father to fulfill my needs. But this child has the responsibility of his home at the age of 12. 
At time when Chhattisgarh is achieving a 11% growth rate I feel there is miles to go to achieve a real human index growth rate.



Chandan

A- Traction of Travelling

The child was crying. Two children were sitting below the shed of a tractor which was in the process of loading the mineral stones from a pile of stones. His elder sister who will not be more than 3 years is not able to calm him down and had a wound on her face. The boy child has white powder like thing around his mouth. I opened his mouth. There was a chunk of soil inside it. I called the mother and told her that the child is eating soil. Her mother came near seeing his mouth said "ye to bacho ka kaam ji" (child do like this only). She held the small child up into her chest. Within seconds the child stopped crying child calmed down. I saw a rare smile on his innocent face in the mid of the deserted land in the under a harsh scorching sun. I requested the mother can I take a photograph of both of you. It was a shot of a lifetime...

The place was one of the white clay mining area near Bikaner, Rajasthan. 10 odd women and few men were working in the pile of stones searching something. I asked a man what they are searching in that pile of stones. He said they are segregating the useful mineral stones to be taken by the transporter to distance places like Gujarat and Maharashtra, that makes the things like china clay pot and bath fittings to be used by the metropolitans. 

Rajasthan it was! My first time to this biggest state of India. It was a small stint of 4 days in the totally different part of India. I fell in love with long stretched horizons, the laborious people, thousand door palaces, straight roads, the Indira Gandhi canal in the mid of the  desert, the camel tangas... Every part of it like picturesque. You do not have to be a great photographer to take a good photo in Rajasthan. I was roving on the sand after my work when i saw these children also watching my colleagues with amusement. 

The rag and torn clothes, barefooted, dusty hair, tanned skin, innocent smiles on their faces... The whole desert was like their playground. It made me remember my childhood. How we peep like a giraffe when a new vehicle comes to the village.

The disparity of rural and urban divide came across me when I was moving like a tourist inside the heritage city of Bikaner. 2 children asked me to take their photograph while their school bus was coming from a distance. 

So these are the things that attracts me travel more and more. So I renamed my blog as  “A-Traction of Travelling”. There some inherent force about India that attracts me to travel gives my feet a traction to go a miles ahead just to meet more and more people in my life.  The farmers, the noise of the smoking silencer of a tractor, the long wheat field swinging with the evening wind, the dusty roads, small children... makes it a worthwhile. So I call it,  It is not just another day at office.



Chandan

Three seasons of my childhood

It is 5 O’clock in the morning.  An auto rickshaw is standing right in front of my apartment as if he knew my timing. I am going from Mumbai to Nagpur by air. I still remember my excitements when I took my first flight from Lucknow to Mumbai in 2010 after joining Mahindra. Inside the plane I removed my camera to take some pictures of the early sun rising while I am flying. I took the picture of the dazzling wing of the plane under the sun. From my window I saw the sun rising from the distance horizon when I was flying like a kite in the open sky. The warmth of the sun gave me comfort from the cooling air conditioner of the plane. The rays fall on my face and I closed my eyes...

The Winter

The morning sun has just started to fall the rays on us in the chilly winter morning. I and my sister would be reading in the ‘khala’ (a place where harvested rice would be kept for threshing). It is our winter holidays now. We call it “Dhana kata chhuti” (Holiday to harvest rice).It would be a 15 day holiday after the half yearly exam. My grandfather would be walking behind two bullocks while they are walking on the piled up rice plants and eating some of it. Maa would come with milk and roti for us to eat there. We will finish our study at 9 O’clock when the radiant heat would be scorching enough to let us send inside home. My father and grandfather would have gone to the field by now. I will take a nice bath then I will take the food prepared by Maa to the field for my father and grandfather and go to field. I would never know the way to our rice fields. My mother would just give me the directions. After walking past the village pond, the closed school, the small jungle of Eucalyptus trees, the village play ground where all the cows will be resting now... I would enter to the rice fields, the total golden yellow colour rice fields. The smell of ripe rice crop is there all around the atmosphere. The plants would be swinging from one side to the other with the small breeze. This would chill my body from inside. There would be still water remaining in the small farms and the cranes will be searching fish and other eatables from the water stagnant areas. From the distance I would see that my father and grandfather would be standing there in the field. I would reach there and offer the food. I will eat there along with them. I always feel the taste of food in the rice field will be much better than the food in the home. I would watch the women cutting the rice plants through the day. When it will become evening they start carrying back the rice bundle to home. I father would also carry 2 bundles in a wooden bar called ‘bhara’. I would request him to carry two small bundles. He would make me 2 small bundles with a small stick and come back to home. All the villagers would be returning back with their rice bundles back to home when the sun will be setting in the west. It would be almost dark when we reach home.  I will be tired walking throughout the day and sleep immediately after some time. My mother would be waking me up after 1 hour for the dinner. She would feed me. I will eat the whole dinner without even opening the eyes.

The Summer 

The school has started again. The teacher would ask us to write an essay on the ‘dhana katta chhuti’. Everybody would write their experience about the holiday. I would be given the highest mark in the class whatever I write, because I am the topper of the class in that small school. I was the favourite student of the all the teachers. My mother would encourage me saying “My son remembers everything reading it once” I would feel as if I am like Vivekananda or something. But the school was the only school in nearby three four villages. Children from distance of 5-6 km would come there to read by walking.  When you are in school you never know how fast the time goes away. Playing, singing, fighting... It is exam time again. The final exams to promote to the next standard. My mother would wake me up in the early morning to read for the exams. I am more excited about the summer holidays than the exams now. In the last day of exam I would just write everything and give the paper as soon as possible to the invigilator and come back from the class. I would gallop like a horse to the home. I would run to the field and waiting for the others to come to play. It will be 2 months holiday now. The summer holidays!!!

The mango trees are full of mangoes now. The small mangoes in the tall trees. I was not good at aiming the mangoes by a stone or stick; I do the work of picking them up when others hit them down from the trees. I would get my share for collecting them. I would be roaming all around the village in the hard summer. There is only playing, playing and playing all the time. We would go to an old under construction house at the end of the village. There is an empty drum where I will sit and my sister would run me down. We will repeat the story with each other for a lot of time and return in the evening to play again in front of the home. Every child in the locality would be playing in the sand in front of the house. Yes! Sand. The the river of water which flows right in between the street carries a lot of sand along with its muddy water from the nearby Jungle. The sands are deposited there in front of everyone’s house. We will play with the sands and pebbles there till evening sets in. Our feet will be covered with a layer of dust. We would come and stand before Maa to clean us. Maa cleans us with cold water while scolding us. There would be a rope bed in the portico. After the evening snacks we would sleep on the lap of our grandfather seeing the stars above the sky. I would ask grandfather the half chewed paan from his mouth to eat. He will give it to me. I will happily eat it and listen to his stories about Ramayan and Mahabharat. We will sleep there only after the dinner and Maa will take us home from there.

Sometimes there would be storm in the summer, which will make the mangoes fall from the trees. The children would run to the “Amba tota” (Mango garden) right after the rain to pick up mangoes. But we would  be eagerly waiting for most important festival of our summer holidays, “Raja”. There will be festival all around, a lot of rope swings and wooden swings will be built around the village for the children to play. My grandfather would make me a personal swing by a rope in the house, for which me and my sister would always be quarrelling to occupy. There will be a custom that no woman would bring water during the three days of the Raja. They would carry water the day before the Raja and accumulate for three days consumption. There would be  new clothes for everyone, mutton curry, pitha, Kheer to eat. The annual sports for the villagers would happen in the ‘Raja’. The women would have blowing the conch shell race, children would have gunny bag race. But the most attractive race to which everyone would be waiting would be the men’s cycle race. People from different villages would come to our village to participate in that race. It will be a show of mightiness before the village. The cycle is there daily partner for doing the daily business, but today is the race! The participant will prepare their cycle by servicing it and removing the add-ons to make it lighter. The winner will get a goat as prize. In the evening there will be drama played by the village guys.  Like this the festival ends and so our holidays. 

The Rain

The thirst of the earth will be cooled down by the early drop of rains right after the Raja. This sends a message to everybody. Now everyone will be busy again in farm preparation again. It is rainy season now. We would go to the school along the muddy water. The stomach of the pond, river and well would be full now. It is like the happy earth wears itself beautiful green Saree. The water flows in front of the house. Children will be busy playing with the paper boats. There would be small fish and wild mushrooms from the jungle to eat. Children would be playing inside the muddy water of the river doing summersault and hide and seek. Sometimes there would be a dead body come floating in the river. I would not go to the river for next some days. After two months there would be Laxmi Puja nearby my village. The Jatra party from long way would come there to play the dramas during that period for 7 days.  There will be shops of sweets, toys, the Ram Jhulas to play. My father is a great fan of the Jatra plays. People from many surrounding villages would come there to watch the plays.  

My eyes open; I saw the buildings and towers moving fast outside my window. The air hostess is announcing that ”we have landed in Bhimrao Ambedkar international airport in Nagpur, hope you have enjoyed the journey”. A smile comes to my face. It was a nostalgic childhood indeed. Working in metropolitan city like Mumbai makes me proud at the same time sometime I miss the village life. But the rapid industrialisation in the village now saddens me. Now ten thousands of truck rambles down the village everyday taking the iron ore to sell it to china. There is a concrete road now instead of the sandy road in front of my house. Children do not prefer to play there anymore. Farming has almost stopped now. People prefer to join in the transportation business to carry iron ore. There is much more money in the transportation than doing farming.  With the arrival of shinning India we are missing the charm of the village life which was earlier during the childhood.

chandan

Night inside a Box

I got a message in the Whatsapp from a unknown no saying Hey! After changing the phone so many times I have lost all my contacts. But Whatsapp is a beautiful software where you can see the photograph of the other side man who is texting you. 

I saw the photograph of the guy who messaged me. I found out that I know this guy I have seen him somewhere. Oh yes!  he is that train guy who accompanied me in my return from Lucknow to Mumbai in the Pushpak express. How can I forget him. I replied him 

Chandan: Hi dude! Do you still remember me?

Saswat: Ya dude, that train journey was really gud  

Chandan: Specially sleeping inside that luggage box and that to shift wise

Saswat: Ya... That was awesome; the attendant locked us, ha ha

We talked a lot about our personal and professional life that day in the chatting. But that day reminded me another one of my travel stories which happened 2 years back in 2010 when I was a trainee engineer at Mahindra and Mahindra.

It is just another day at office

After my every day breakfast of corn flakes and cold milk from the fridge, I tied the lace of my old leather shoes, which I have recently repaired from a mochi.  I searched for my cycle keys. Oh! It is not there anymore. You miss the things when it goes away from you, it may be people and can be things also. I greeted the little girl in the lift that also goes to school every day at the same time I go. Do not know why she gets afraid of me. On the way I see people waiting for the bus and auto rickshaw to go to their office, I feel proud to myself. Atleast I am very lucky to come to office in 5 min of walking. At the morning 7.30 to 9.30 Mumbai feels like, it is running away from home just to return in the evening again. The autowalas will be rambling on the road as if they own that road hanging some poor office goers on the way to their stations. I drink a glass of ‘Amla’ juice every day from a UP old man, who speaks only Bhojpuri. That keeps my stomach cool.

I entered the gate no 3. The canteen vehicle is serving the snacks to the security men. Fork lift carrying the garbage bin. The yesterday’s red tractors waiting for their serial to be dispatched. I always feel the red tractor as a lively thing. Two eyes, 4 legs, striped nose... It is like a tireless horse always ready for work. So the red tractors in queue to go the field to achieve what they are meant for.

Tractors, the integral part of my life

The PDI testing driver is riding the tractor like a La Ferrari, braking and skidding. The machines inside the plant roaring. I moved on. The morning warmth of the rising sun goes away in the shed of the big office building. I punched in with my id card and marked my presence for the day.

5^th floor

I opened the security door with my id card and entered. The old office boy is still cleaning our cubicles. I would greet him every day saying ‘Hi Mamaji, Kaise ho’ He would reply ‘Han Han’. Another office boy is keeping the ‘Economic times’ in the cabins of the bosses. Another one is keeping the flowers on their tables. I guess the fragrance of the expensive and exotic flowers must be giving them some strategic direction for their work. I set up my laptop and table. Opened the diary and wrote the plan for the day, which I am never going to do. I switched on the windows and checked my outlook for the mails for the morning. And seeing nothing important I went for the coffee. Enjoying the sip of the tea in front of the big mirror found that my shirt is not pressed. Whatever... Nobody watches me here. I damn care for the dressing! I went back to my cubicle just to busy for nothing.

It is been 2 long months, I have been sitting in the office. It is a long two months because I never sat in the office continuously for such a long period of time. Doing the excel sheet and the power point presentation jams my mind now. May be the company has given me a bad habit of travelling like a Bohemian traveller. Never sit at one place. Something sounded like a storm coming. Yes! It is the blower of the office air conditioner which I hate the most. It fills a continuous noise to ear that you only realise the noise when it stops. Also I hate the cooling breeze, it shivers my body and gives me goose bump every time. Your skin just feels like burning when you come out of it to the sun. I always wanted the climate as it is. Open office among the trees, open fresh air, birds chirping... It would be a dream office for me somewhere in Himalayas.  

Small boy digging potatoes in 

I started thinking my good old days before two months.  A nostalgic smile comes to my face automatically when I remember my past journeys. Sitting on a gigantic vibratory machine called combine harvester to harvest the wheat in Punjab, doing the off road biking in the mid of the night inside the Kosi river just to see  how the sand mining is happening, eating spicy Andhra chicken sitting on the rice field, watching a man fishing his own pond near Godavari, Andhrapradesh, writing my travel journal in a lonely bus stand while waiting for my last bus in the night Polachi, Tamilnadu, eating some fresh boiled potatoes directly dug out from the farm and watching the Indian air force jet practicing near Adampur Airforce station, cycling and falling down from the bike on a bumpy road ... It was just shear good life.

The world is so big. And I always have different stories to tell to the people. Many places I go, many people I meet, and different food I eat... that makes my life worthwhile.  I am my best companion when I travel alone. It keeps me the same man who I was before still teaches me to be self reliant, independent and ability to take things as they come. It makes you confident. When I meet people from different part of the country, they make me humble with their amazing stories. I have a great opportunity to meet the farmers of the different part of India. I laugh with new people, share a cup of tea with them make friendship, when they remember once up on time in my life it gives a Joy of past experience and the whole thing flash in to your mind once again at that very moment. It is a real nice feeling.

Just take some time out of your work and take a wild deep at a water tank in a farm of Punjab. The heat of summer just cools down by the earth’s water. It reminds me of my childhood when I was playing water games in the village river for unlimited no of hours and my father would come searching for me to check if I am still playing or drowned, then he will take me to home with him.

  

The greatest benefit of travelling alone was that I found out my strength and weaknesses. I come to know what I am capable of and what I am not capable of. I come to know about my limits. Once I wished to go for a cycling trip to Mahabaleswar, a place 300 km away from Mumbai. But I got tired in just about 125 km away before Lonavala.  And I came back from there loading my cycle in a truck after spending the night at a cheap hotel. I realised that day, enjoying does not always mean adventure. You enjoy more when you are safe and healthy.

Travelling makes me spiritual. My belief in god strengthens when I travel more and more. Seeing people’s devotion towards the god in the spiritual places, my life’s faith towards god increases. It opens my mind.

“Khul sa gaya hai ye man, bhul sa gaya har bandhan, Jiban ab lagta hai paaban mujhko”

So finally it brings a big smile in my face when I look back to past life I have spent. Many places to go, thousand people to meet. Hopefully god will grace me with his blessings to move on in the life way ahead.

 Chandan