One night at a shelter in east Delhi

Sumit Kumar Singh, New Delhi, Dec 17, DHNS:

Erected on a pavement opposite the flyover near the Akshardham temple in east Delhi is a single tent, the only ‘abode’ for people who have no place go in the silent and cold nights in the area.

Tightly packed from all sides and dotted with holes to allow passage of air, the tent was a better and only option for the homeless to avoid dying on the streets in the inhospitable weather.

People at the shelter expected nothing but a place to rest for the night. The three bulbs in the tent shed dim light. Some of the occupants slept blissfully, huddled together for some warmth. Beds were arranged in two long rows with space in between for them to walk. Fumes from mosquito repellents hung in the air. I walked inside the tent and woke up the caretaker who was fast asleep, wrapped in a quilt.

“What happened? Who are you and what do you want,” asked the caretaker who was obviously taken aback at the untimely knock.

When I asked for a bed to spend the night, he indicated to me to sign in the register.“We have to maintain records to show to our bosses. Go and find a place for yourself,” he said.
Standing between two rows of beds, I saw around 26 people on one side and 25 on other.

Some had covered themselves with thin blankets provided by the caretaker, while others used their own torn shawls. The blankets were small, hardly enough to cover a person.

I found a place where I could slip in. But there was no blanket even with holes. I had to wake up the caretaker again for a pillow and a blanket. “There is no blanket... no pillow.

Go and sleep,” he said. I begged him several times, but he was reluctant. “Don't create a ruckus here. If you don’t want to sleep, leave the place, or I will throw you out,” he shouted.

Hearing the holler, a man sleeping close by called me and offered me a shawl he was using as his pillow. It seemed like a luxury in the deprived place to use a shawl as pillow. “Take this and sleep quietly,” said my neighbour, who identified himself as Suresh, a rickshaw-puller.

Suresh explained that they had a few blankets which had been recently distributed. When asked how people could sleep without blankets in such extreme cold, he said, “At least, we save ourselves from cold winds. We have no place and getting a bed is just fine for us.”

Wrapping the shawl, I lied down. Throughout the night I kept shivering like others, but sleep eluded me even as others, immune to extremely cold weather conditions, snored away. It was around 5 in the morning that people started waking up. I asked for a complaint book to register my grievances. The caretaker grabbed me and threw me out, laughing and mocking at me: “This man wants a complaint book, eh!” I left the place for home wondering where would others go.

Jailhouse rock at India's largest prison

Taj Mohammad, a 28-year-old inmate of Tihar Jail here, is serving life term for murder. His fellow inmates recall the time when he tried to commit suicide by banging his head against the iron bars of his cell. Today, they stare in amazement as he belts out songs on his keyboard as part of one of the 10 bands in the jail - a testimony to the success of reforms at India's largest prison.

"Music brings positive energy. And because it can reform the inmates' lives in a big way, we have recently provided bongo, drums, guitar, keyboards and other instruments to them," Neeraj Kumar, director general (prisons) in Delhi, said.

"Music motivates the inmates and uplifts their spirit. We will do a study on the impact of music on them," he added.

Recently, a music room was also set up in every prison in the premises. There are 10 sub-jails inside Tihar Jail, which houses around 10,500 prisoners.

The authorities have also roped in professional music teachers.

Deputy Inspector General R.N. Sharma said: "Ten music experts come to teach the inmates, one for each sub-jail".

All this has struck a chord with the inmates. Not only have they shown keen interest in learning music but have also formed bands - belting out everything from devotional numbers to Bollywood chartbusters.

Pathi Ram, a prison cook, has formed a band called the Cook Band, where he plays the tabla.

Describing a typical day, Ram said his band members - dressed in their striped jail uniforms - play religious songs set to Bollywood tunes.

"The other day we had 20 spectators who were listening to our music," Ram said.

Taj Mohammad said he had come a long way from his days of despair and depression.

"During our recreational time, when I come down to the music room, the whole environment reminds me of some memories that either make me smile or a bit teary. I always wanted to be a choreographer and musician, but life brought me here instead," he said with a faint smile.

"Music changes our thinking process. It takes away our worries and makes us feel like we are not very far away from home. Every day it instils hope in us that we will get justice," said Amit Saxena, 32, an undertrial who has been in jail for the last seven years on a murder charge. He is the music director of a band called Flying Souls.

The music teachers, on their part, are highly appreciative of their pupils.

"Many inmates don't know the technicalities of music, but they have picked up in a very short time. They play instruments wholeheartedly. It is a great experience for me too," said Dinesh Joshi, a music teacher.

There are around 300 inmates learning various instruments.

"They come in groups of five or six for the classes," Tihar Jail spokesperson Sunil Gupta said.

Bal Kishan, who has been in jail for the last 10 years, said: "They (music teachers) visit us thrice a week to teach different musical instruments. The music room is like a fresh breath of life for us".

Dreams no bar for kids at prison play school

 "I want to be a doctor," murmured five-year-old Guddu Kumari, flashing a shy smile and then hurrying to the rest of her classmates resting in the L-shaped play school at the women's prison in Tihar Jail, India's largest prison.

Like Kumari, the other 29 kids at her play school, The Creche, cherish dreams of becoming doctors, journalists, police officers or engineers some day.

Beautifully decorated with colourful posters of cartoon characters on the walls and toys all over, the play school and a nursery at Jail No. 6 is spread out into two huge L-shaped rooms. It houses 39 children, including 10 who are less than two years old.

"The Creche and the nursery are run with the assistance of NGO India Vision Foundation. There are proper recreational and educational facilities for the children," Deputy Inspector General R.N. Sharma said.

The children below two years of age are taken care of by NGO workers and are provided with food, medicine and clothes. "They are kept in a cosy environment, away from the cells," he said.

Children over two-and-a-half years are given education at The Creche. "It is a play school. We provide all the facilities," said counsellor Ruby Gupta.

Looking smart in their uniforms - white and pink checked shirt and shorts, white for boys and pink for girls - the children sit on benches and are taught subjects like Maths, Hindi and English on a white board.

"They are taught while they play," Gupta said.

From 8 a.m. till 5.30 p.m., the children are involved in various activities, which include painting and dance classes. They also watch cartoon films on TV in the play school.

"They are provided breakfast, lunch and light snacks during evening," Sharma said.

Ruby Gupta and Tulika Kiran, counsellors-cum-teachers from the NGO, take care of the children. Two educated undertrial inmates also take a few classes.

Motherly affection sometimes attracts jailed DMK MP Kanimozhi to the children. "She spends some time teaching these kids when she is not away in the court," Kiran said.

The kids are also taken for educational exposure trips across the city.

"They have been taken to various monuments, embassies and gardens in Delhi. These regular visits make them feel they are not prisoners by default and they enjoy themselves," Gupta said.

Education not just helps them aspire to make it big some day but also comes as a big relief to their mothers who want their children to lead fulfilled lives.

"I am happy that my daughter is studying. Seeing your child grow in the jail is the worst thing for any mother, but I know better things are in store for her," said Dolly Agarwal, an undertrial in a murder case.

For the last 16 years, The Creche has served the purpose of imparting education and moral values to kids in the jail that houses 12,000 prisoners, almost twice its capacity, making it one of the largest prison complexes in the world.

"When the child is more than six years, with the consent of their mother prisoner, he or she is admitted in a boarding school with assistance of some NGOs," Sharma said.

So far, 193 kids, who have spent their early days at The Creche, are now pursuing higher studies at various schools and colleges across the country.

"A few of them are doing management studies, journalism and engineering," India Vision Foundation organising secretary Monica Dhawan said.

A few are also preparing for Indian Administrative Services (IAS) examinations conducted by the Union Public Service Commission (UPSC).

According to the National Crime Records Bureau (NCRB), 484 children of convict women prisoners and 1,639 children of undertrial prisoners were lodged in various jails across the country in 2008.

Smoke till the last puff

Sitting on a rooftop under the blue infinite world when I light a cigarette and see the glow in the dark, I feel like that I exist and I am living my life to the fullest. I start believing that I am far away from the mundane life.

Number of people asked: “Why do I smoke?” I just smile at them. I don’t even think of replying them. Lately, I have developed a habit of offering a cigarette to those who put up this dim-witted question. A few of them gave me a furious look as if they are going to kill me. I laugh at their innocence. How ignorant they are? They pretend that they hate smokers in fact they are scared and are low-esteemed.

Technically if we talk, everyone smokes. Some smokes out their family problems; some their tortured emotional life; some their office problems and some, whom I consider are the most courageous people, smoke to enjoy the moment. We smoke a plutonic cigarette to make that moment eternal.

One wants to be rewarded in their life at some point of time. Everyone wants to be patted on the back. Smoking is a reward that we can give ourselves whenever we want. You will ponder: “Why I am saying so?” It’s because when I will finish this article I will reward myself with a cigarette. Whenever we finish an assignment we reward ourselves with a deep puff of the satisfying smoke. It’s a consolation prize. What is wrong in this?

Scientifically smoking is a conditioned reflex. It is a like another course of meal. We smoke after lunch, dinner or over a cup of tea. Smoking introduces holiday spirit into everyday living. It makes all kind of enjoyment one hundred per cent satisfactory.

Sometimes smoking makes me nostalgic. When I take a deep puff and close my eyes, the entire life comes in front of me. My school friends, college buddies, my first crush, the first step, the first mistake, and everything that has left deep mark in my heart revolves in front of my closed eyes with each puff I inhale. I fly from the contentment to intense joy. I become gratified and pull out a few more cigarettes and light it up one by one. The sense to pleasure sees on limits.

Smoking is the best means to communicate and puff out your feelings. There are times when your boss, girlfriend, parents or friends are upset with you and you want to burn out the ill feelings about them and carry on, all you need to do is light a cigarette and forget their words. When your boss says: “You haven’t completed your assignment and you need a holiday what is this?” You are down and shattered as your parents are arriving on the day you were looking for an off. You desperately need a break. Go out and have a fag. You will be rejuvenated and will finish your work efficiently and effectively. I am sure you will convince your boss and if your boss smokes he will understand you problem for sure. Remember those days when your sweetheart says: “I have been waiting for last two hours.” Just have a fag she or he will not say a single word. He or she will not ask for any excuses. The smoke around will quieten the fury and the silence will speak thousands of words. I am sure when you will finish the cigarette she or he will surely give a warm-loving hug.

Lots of my friends, I mean to say: “close friends”, who stood by me during the darkest hour of my life and still invisibly stands beside me to fight with the entire world for me, I met them, for the first time, over a cigarette. I remember a night, the darkest night in my life, when I was surrounded by almost twenty to twenty five goons armed with swords, knifes and handmade pistols, with only one slogan they had: “Handover this guy.” It was sure that they had plans to kill me. My dearest friend bargained my life by placing his head in front of the loaded pistols. He pulled me out from the hands of goons and saved my life. (I owe a life to him). I met this god-like friend over a cigarette outside my college campus. I firmly believe that the friendship made over cigarettes have eternal bonding. This bonding is stronger than any religious, cultural, social, family et al attachment. There are hundreds of examples in everyone’s life. I have learnt the meaning of friendship over a cigarette as I believe and have experienced that the guys and gals who smoke and cleans their heart from selfishness, greediness, jealousy et al and becomes a pure soul. What more to say I met my mentor over a cigarette.

Cigarette is the best way to greet anyone. When I meet someone I simply ask them: “Let’s light a cigarette.” I just cut off the nonsense stuff like hello, hey, hi, how do u do etc. By asking lets light a cigarette he or she straight away understand let’s talk purpose of visiting. Then we go down into serious business of talks. Asking for a cigarette is the best way to start a conversation with strangers. Inviting friends for a cigarette is in itself a very close and touching way to greet and fix a time for sharing good and bad moments with them and having fun. It’s like owning friends, the biggest assets in life. Lighting the cigarette for your friends and bosses is a way of showing respect to them.

A colleague once said that smoking is like having sex with the beautiful lady you have ever imagined. I never understood his seriousness in the statement. I mocked at him. He said: “One day you will surely comprehend with me.” And yes he was right. It was on June 20, 2009. I along with my friends was putting up at Model Town in Delhi at a friend’s house who was making our website. It was around 11 pm. Four of us were busy with the content of our site as we had to launch it formally the very next day. A whole lot of work was there to complete. Sitting on computer and laptops between smokes and cold drinks we were working. We had bought around six to seven packs of cigarettes. We were all confident enough that it will last till morning. At around 1 am, one yelled: “Give me a cigarette.” I replied: “Check it out. It must be at the table.” He again shouted: “All packets are empty.” I replied: “It can’t be. I personally have bought six or seven packets. Check once again. Few of it may be lying somewhere. ” He said nothing. He walked straight away to me and nicely placed all the empty packets on the keyboard of my laptop. We all started looking at each other. I checked at the right corner of the display screen for the time. It was one ‘o’ clock. I screamed: “Where are we going to get it. All the stores are closed and we have to drive to New Delhi Railway Station.” After that there was a pin drop silence in the room. “Now what,” said one of them. I told: “First finish our work and then we will drive to station.” He said: “Fuck off! I need a fag.” I just placed both my hands over my face and said lets go. I too was unable to control the urge for a fag. As we were driving to the station, I saw a security guard. I asked my friend to stop the car. With all the etiquettes one pumps when he or she goes for a date, I in the same manner asked if he has a bidi. He with due respect offered everyone a bidi. As I puffed, I imagined that I was having sex with the most beautiful girl. (I can only imagine as I am still virgin). Thats how I felt. Yes his words were true.....

Where is she?

Wrapped in the wistful fog, I sat down on the mused-pavement for long hoping to figure out the apprehensions arising within me. The sense of agony breezed out every single thought of running away from the chill that was enveloping me. I was precipitating. My hands and feet were numbed. My throat muscles were tightening. I was gasping for breath.

The boundless shadow around my nerve was engulfing my sense of being alive. I was dead yet my brain was unprepared to accept that my soul was steadily escalating between the two worlds: the world which I timelessly enjoyed of being and the world which was as real as of being.

There was complete emptiness around me. I was hallucinating. The words, the smell, the touch, the ecstasy, the agony, the hope, the death, the life… everything was revolving around me. I could not rationalise that I was overrun by the adrenalin rush of a very familiar shadow. I was in mental fist.

I don’t know for how long I was emotionally lying in the pool of much-awaited felicity. Had not the warm droplets came out my screaming-soul through my eyes, I would not have realised that I was still alive. Regaining my being as real, I laid on the mused-pavement on that winter night, though I was numb with cold, till she echoed: “Go home”. I just stand up on my feet hoping to see the person who spoke to me. It was all in vain. No one was there. Not a single soul was visible. All I could see was fog. Everything was completely empty. I just kept asking from myself where, why and how I was there. Where is she? All I could feel and see was fog. I kept asking what happened to me.

I was in complete delirium. I rushed towards the road looking for a living soul who can drive me to my home. Seeing a sign an auto I rushed towards it and asked him: “Would you drive me to Kalkaji?” A man of around forty sitting on a driver seat said: “Hundred Rupees.” I said ok fine lets go…

Media disillusioned

All journals, 24/7 news channels and websites scream on Mumbai massacre with stories meticulously detailing about the terror, fishing out clues and its impact on commoners. They exclusively did their best to provide information to awaken the sleeping masses.

Mumbai under siege; The war continues; Mumbai in terror; The recent audacious attack has broken ‘the spirit of Mumbai’ (now a cliché); India is leaderless, the country leaders don’t have the guts and the vision to handle, to stop or tackle such catastrophe; there were logistic support; Dawood Ibrahim boats were used; politicians are baking their food on this tragedy et al, write leading dailies, but they utterly fail to chalk out realistic remedies to avoid such kind of brazen tragedy, new strategies to handle the situation. They are doing their best and are on their smooth track yet are struck in the ‘Breaking News’ soap opera and TRP and readership fight.

They forget that it was through journals Mahatma Gandhi and many leaders awaken the masses and made India free from British rule. They forget that it’s their responsibility and they are accountable for it. They forget that they are one of the pillars of the democratic system of government. They failed to realise that it’s a war and India is in war zone. They coin new words and phrases, they rush on the spot, they find some exclusive shots and stories, but they forget what they are basically made for?

“I was on the spot. I managed to get a shot of NSG commandos’ para gliding on the roof of the Nariman House. If I hadn’t got I would have been sacked,” said one of my friend, who works in a leading news channel.

“Things are not fine here. Blood is spilled over everywhere and commandos are stilling looking for terrorist at Taj hotel. I have to report to my boss and discuss a story. I will call you later,” said another friend, who works for a leading English journal.

One of the know figure of electronic media was seen pushing his mike in front of traumatised hostages. The army chief had to request media persons to stop telecasting the scenes as the terrorists were viewing television.

Being a journo I feel the pain and the pressure my peers used to go through as news channels and journals can't be blank. They have to show or write about the incidents. They do their best to provide information to the masses. I salute them as I salute to Indian Police force and Indian Army, but things remain to point zero.
After the operation was over, everyone was busy doing post-mortem and investigation of the assault. But none thought to use their so-called journo aptitude to provide logistic and realistic solution of the problem to the failed-government of India.

They have to or else ten years down the line, media will be a brothel house and journo a pimp. Apart from keeping the eyes, the ears and mouth open, they have to intensely speak their mind.

Wake Up! Lets fight terror

“I took the child, I just grabbed the baby and ran out,” Sandra Samuel, 44, told The New York Post. Samuel rescued a traumatised, two-year-old from the clutches of rampaging terrorists at Nariman House Jewish centre in Mumbai.
“As soon as Karkare sir heard that terrorists were opening fire he went in. He wore a bullet-proof jacket before going in but the bullets got him anyway,” a cop said. The martyrs Hemant Karkare, head of Maharashtra’s Anti-Terrorism Squad, additional CP Ashok Kamthe and encounter specialist Vijay Salaskar, laid their life without giving a second thought. Without knowing what they were dealing with, they rushed to the spot to flush out the AK-47-and-AK-56-armed-terrorists, with just revolvers. Not only they, 11 more ATS heroes were killed.
A cop badly hit with a bullet did not stop. The indefatigable cop chased the terrorists, who were killing innocents, with his bastion till his colleagues stopped him and sent him to hospitals.

The National Security Guard commandoes battled the terrorists holed up at the landmark Taj and Oberoi-Trident hotels and the Nariman House till their last breath Major Sandeep Unnikrishnan, a 30-year- old officer who was on deputation to the NSG from the 51 Special Operations Group of the armed forces, showed exceptional courage by laying down his life to save the lives of his fellow colleagues at Taj. Havildar Gajendra Singh, who was para-dropped on the terrace of Nariman House laid his life to save the hostages there. “He was given the task to clear and secure the top floor of Nariman House. He did that perfectly well but chose to go down further. There was nothing wrong in his coming back but he knew that the impact on the enemy is much better when you move swiftly in early stages and he chose just that,” said the senior NSG officer.
The police force have been on duty for more than 50 hours.
These people never thought what would be the consequences. They went, they faced and fought. India had never seen this. The assault was particularly brazen in scale and execution.
It’s clear like crystal that the terrorists can strike any city in the world. This strike signifies that it is second level of terrorism.
“It’s not a terrorist strike but a war,” a very close friend Manish Sharma said, while having a chat
“They can strike at their will and anywhere in India,” said Deepti Bansal, Sharma’s fiancée, while we were at Bharatiya Vidya Bhawan premises at Kasturba Gandhi Road in New adding, “Over 195, 350 injured and 400 NSG commandoes fighting. What it is? The country's financial capital is under siege. It’s a war!”
We have to accept that we are on war! It has begun. We don’t know when and where the enemy would strike. We are not equipped enough to win this. Though our country has third largest army in the world, we are still not capable to fight with the enemies.
Now, there is fear on everyone face. I am not exaggerating the situation, its fact.
The basalt arch of the “Gateway of India”, which greets seaborne visitors to Mumbai and symbolises the departure of British rulers on November 26 witnessed the siege. Only twelve young men aged 20-30 year hold the city for three days. They remorselessly spilled blood everywhere but our honourary Home Minister Shivraj Patil, who attempted to give a blow-by-blow account of the terror attack, said the terrorists "left" the scene of crime before he reached Mumbai. “Before I could reach there, the terrorists who had attacked one of the hospitals, the Cama Hospital, had left. Those who attacked the railway station had also left,” Patil also draw comfort from the fact that not many foreigners lost their lives. “Fortunately, not many foreigners have been targeted,” he said.
Leave aside him for a while, Maharashtra deputy Chief Minister R R Patil said “such small incidents happen” with reference to terror attacks in Mumbai. “Bade shahron mein aise ek adh hadse hote rahte hain. Woh 5,000 logon ko marne aye the lekin humne kitna kum nuksan hone diya . (Such small incidents happen in big cities. They (terrorists) came to kill 5,000 people but we ensured minimal damage),” he said. He does not mind if 5,000 people were killed.
These men are worst than a prostitute. The prostitutes sell their body to feed themselves or their family. They are honest in their approach but these men sell their country for their comfort and pleasure. They will not mind if any nation invades India.
But I see its not they are at fault. It’s us. We choose them. And if any crisis happens we too start talking like The war has begun and we know that and to win this war we have to be on forefront like Sandra Samuel, Hemant Karkare, Ashok Kamthe, Vijay Salaskar, Major Sandeep Unnikrishnan and Havildar Gajendra Singh
Wake up and start acting. Throw this heartedness out of our nation. Lets join hand and walk together. The solution lies in us. In you and me.

I want to break free/ being kids once again

I was in the clouds, madly dancing, running, jumping and shouting; trying to breathe, feel life as it should be, free. The world around me was soaked in misty droplets. I gazed at the green pastures and mountain peaks till my eyes had had their fill. A sense of absolute bliss started soaking in, my mind calmed down. This was Mussoorie's magic effect.
After a year-long cubicle life, I was desperately searching for a break. The concrete, the walled society and the chaos of the urban life were taking their toll. Luckily, two of my school pals came down and we decided to "break free." A quick brain storming session revealed we all wanted fresh air, some adventure and lots of water! The answer, which could logistically fit into our weekend schedule, was Mussoorie.
Early on Saturday morning we took a cab and headed towards the Gateway to the Gangotri and Yamunotri shrines. By noon, we had crossed the sprawling Doon valley and the picturesque city of Dehradun, en-route to Mussoorie. The first glimpse of Mussoorie, the Queen of all hill stations, stunned us into silence. The Raj-era town lazily snuggled in the green paradise of the Shivalik peaks — white roofed houses creating little polka dots on the olive background. It promised a welcome break.
We took to the ascending zigzag road with new gusto towards the honeymoon capital of India. "Mussoorie welcomes you. Have a happy journey," said a signboard as we entered the city limits.
Our first stop was the Mussoorie Lake — a picnic spot situated on the Mussoorie-Dehradun road. The lake, which also has a park with lots of trees, is the favourite haunt of honeymooning couples. A visit here will convince you about eternal wedded bliss.
After that we headed towards Mall Road — the famous shopping paradise. Reaching there, we checked into a hotel and came out for a stroll. A boisterous holiday crowd thronged the shops, buying knick-knacks and woollies. Many were enjoying the glorious views of the mighty Himalayan peaks. It could have been the shopping plaza of any other city except for the soft coverlet of cloud that gave it a dreamlike appearance.
A local pointed out the Camel's Back Road — a must-see — where we went for picturesque views of the Himalayan panorama and its life-like resemblance to a sitting camel. Long walks and a joyride on a horse later, we were ready for our next stop, Gun Hill, the second highest peak in Mussoorie. And how did we reach it? Through the clouds! An exhilarating ropeway ride took us to Gun Hill, where the skies meet the hills. I screamed my till lungs out, my voice reverberating amid the rolling hills. I felt one with nature.
After loitering for an hour, purging our lungs with the fresh air, we started off for the tourists' delight, Kempty Falls. Situated on the Yamunotri Road, Kempty is among the most beautiful and famous falls in northern India. But the magic begins much before you reach the water cascade, right from the moment you curve into the green valley that leads to the fall. The lush green carpet streaked by the silvery fall was hypnotic. There is a ropeway ride to the fall but we opted to walk down, staying as close to nature as we could.
As we were going down, the sound of the waterfall called out, wooing us to hurry up. We couldn't hold ourselves back. We ran down the last few paces till we stood just a few metres away from the water curtain, its drizzle soaking us.
It didn't take much goading for us to tear off our clothes and jump into the small pool that holds the water from the fall for a while before it rushes down with a thundering roar.
The water was chilling. For an hour we frolicked around in the water, splashing, soaking each other, trying to swim, letting go of all adult inhibitions and being kids once again. September, 23, 2008

60 years passed, Ahmedabad celebrates independence

Dusk of that night 60 years ago saw people pouring in from nearby village clusters, from textile mills, businesses and homes on bullock carts, cars, trucks, tongas and on foot.

Enthusiastically, they made their way to Bhadra Fort. By nightfall, the crowd had thickened. All 13 gates of the city were chocked. Still, the influx of people just would not cease. In all, two-three lakh people gathered outside the fort.

When the clock struck 12, a prominent Congress leader, pulled down the Union Jack, which had been fluttering there for 130 years, and unfurled the Tricolour in its place. The tempestuous mob started screaming, shouting and crying hysterically - this was the moment they had been fighting for."The chant Vande Mataram burst out from the hearts of the people and reverberated in the air. People were speechless with emotion at seeing the Tricolour atop the fort. We were finally free.

This was our country now - our India - never to be taken away again. It was the glorious moment of reckoning we had been waiting for. As I turned around, I saw my countrymen, each of us now a free citizen of an independent nation. We looked at each other and wept out of happiness all night," recalls Amba Lal Sriman, a freedom fighter, who was jailed for one-and-half-years from 1942, for hiding the Indian flag from the British police.

"On August 15, 1947, the sun finally set on the British empire in India. It was a heady and tumultuous day in Ahmedabad, then part of Bombay Province. We were delirious with joy. The whole city was illuminated as fireworks lit up the sky. It was like Diwali had come early upon the city," remembers Dhirubhai Thakar, a freedom fighter who was a professor at Gujarat College before Independence, and is now chairman and founder-member of the Gujarat Vishwa Kosh Trust. It was Thakar who had tried to stop police from firing at the student procession in 1942, in which Vinod Kinariwala died for the cause of Independence.

"There was no space to so much as move around the fort. Finally, the long night of suppression was relegated to the past. It was the end of British rule. People went to both Temples and Masjids to pray. In the morning, processions were taken out across the city," Sriman reminisces.

Even today, 60 years on from the defining events of 1947, these powerful memories do not fail to bring tears to his eyes. "It was a moment that caused happiness and shock in equal measure. The country had been divided, and grief was writ large across faces. Mixed feelings prevailed in the city, since people had not come to terms with Partition, which was still a very fresh wound," recalls Thakar.

Published on August 15, 2007 in DNA
Sumit Kumar Singh
Ahmedabad

Vande Mataram

Vande maataraM
sujalaaM suphalaaM malayaja shiitalaaM
SasyashyaamalaaM maataram
Shubhrajyotsnaa pulakitayaaminiiM
pullakusumita drumadala shobhiniiM
suhaasiniiM sumadhura bhaashhiNiiM
sukhadaaM varadaaM maataraM

Muslim organisations are totally against singing of the national song, Vande Mataram. They said that no Muslim student will sing the Vande Mataram on 7 September whether they are studying in Madarsas or on any other schools.

Shahi Imam of Delhi's historic Jama Masjid, Syed Ahmed Bukhari protested the patriotic move of home ministry to pray (I pray to my country not sing for my country) Vande Mataram on 7 September. Following him many muslim personalities too have balked the ministry decision.

The so called leftist who don’t have their own identity and look towards Cuba and Russia to guide them have now got words after relishing power. They left the option to the people. West Bengal Chief Minister Buddadeb Bhattacharya said that each citizen should have the option of singing or not singing the song. Over the issue, he pointed out that he neither supports the BJP stand nor Muslim Law Board. "Even Central rule doesn’t compel anybody to sing the song," says Bhattacharya

On the other hand the chief minister of Tamil Nadu M. Karunanidhi is touching the feet of his secular mentor Abdul Nasser Mahdani of
Islamist People’s Democratic Party to add vote bank of muslim. It’s a tragic tale of our nation that the congress, Left and DMK are nullifying the law by supporting the notorious terrorist like Abdul Nasser Mahdani.

Mahdani is the notorious terrorist that preached fanaticism. He masterminded 1998 Coimbatore serial blasts that targeted Lal Krishan Advani and claimed 58 lives and wounded around 100 innocent citizens. Right now he is lodged in the high-security prison in Coimbatore with 166 co-accused almost of all whom are Jehadis belonging to Al Umma.

It seems that these handful ministers and religious leaders are splitting on us and our country. It is not the muslim community that is opposed to sing Vande Matram. It is the religious leaders who have personal grievances against this move.