Rohit Agarwal's Blog

The Maggi Rebellion and Dandi March

It was a little spark which exploded into a rebellion unwittingly .The matter was innocuous and it all started in the last hostel building of the campus .The spick clean corridors and the cramped rooms, were always filled with the camaraderie of the boys from across the country,even from other countries.All congregated on the stairs outside . Trembling voices spoke in hushed tones .The despair was palpable under the steamy sweaty evening sky .MSG and Lead were the words spoken with warmth world had never seen .So what if the content in masala mix is obnoxious , what about the pani puri you eat from the stale water or the deep fried pakodas in the umpteenth time used oil , the sandwiches made with pee laden hands , the thali being prepared in dirty utensils and cockroach laden floor of the kitchen crossed over by dirty feet.We have seen it all , sorry eaten it all.The dirt and grime , filthiness and adulteration is part of our everyday meal.So what wrong our dear Maggi has done .They immediately drew a plan and reassembled in the TV room .Tremors could be felt across the campus .The despair turned into seething anger and the young guns drew up the placards hastily .They were already sloganeering in the corridors and outside ,raising one hand in air and shouting ‘Maggi zinadabad ‘ ….. Government Hai Hai …… Maggi ban hatao ….. College band karo ……
The cavalcade started outside the hostel ,the bully boy and the studious one , the metrosexual and the small town kinky , the drug addict and the yoga expert ,Kumbhkaran and Arjun everyone was walking shoulder to shoulder out on the trembling road .They were joined by the girls outside their hostel .The beauty queens and the sports star ,Indra nooyi and Sharmila irom ,Meera and Padmini ,Virago and petite.All came and joined for a deserving cause to save mellow yellow noodles .The procession grew like a Chinese dragon , spewing fire as it headed towards the university ground on 100’ road .Amidst the din of traffic and trite summer wind , they shouted out quickly crafted slogans with frothing mouths , tearing their lungs .Authorities were shocked as if somebody has thrown whole tub of MSG and lead laced Maggi in their homes and they are not able to prevent their children to eat it.
A dharna was planned on the damp university ground and no one stopped them.The crowd was swelling like a tsunami at east coast.People from small or big , government or private hostels were joining in ferociously.They broke all cowering barricades and entered the welcoming battle ground .Word about the rebellion spread like wildfire in jungle during summertime .Hordes of people from across the city started pouring in commiserating with the cause .This was city of Gandhi where almost 85 years back , The great Kathiawadi Gujarati ever known , scrambled some of his disciples to take a stroll towards sea.As he started from Sabarmati Ashram , located in wilderness of then west Ahmedabad , the country moved with him , kicking dust and gathering hope of freedom in return on the village pathways .As they moved south towards dandi , the world was in trance for it seemed to be a simple gesture .Making the salt from sea water .Hey that’s  not a big deal.But the meaning of doing it held in its visage far greater significance .
In any case our rebels were now joined by the association of pani puri vendors and roadside fastfood joints ,small restaurateurs and fafda jalebi spinners. Cut fruit stall wala and fruit juice shop wala .Their logic : with this logic government will ban us also someday so why take the risk and let us hop on the bandwagon to crush the rebellion (by government) in its infancy .
So beneath the starry midnight, atop the cool soil of occupied ground, the next more ambitious plan was charted out .We will march to the seat of government in Gandhinagar and cook maggi in front of Chief minister’s house to protest the ban .It would have been much shorter than dandi march which took 24 days(12th march,1930 to 6th april ,1930) and 390 kms to finish .Here it will take hardly 3 days and 30 kms to finish the protest .But in todays information age where news cast is amplified multifold and reach every nook and corner in matter of minutes , here the attention spans are shorter than flight of a bullet , they could not have gone on and on for 24 days .
Next day morning, sun ascended claiming its turf everywhere the way Chinese want to do, spreading terror of heat and the news broke about the great march of rebels. Few IIT guys promptly pushed up a website, in a matter of 1 hour which drew a million bolstering clicks by mid day.Someone started facebook page , twitter page drawing likes ,dislikes in millons.The old men who had no family and no teeth as well , the army men who scampered on border areas for change of taste,The middle aged dude whose wife was off to his in laws or who did not manage to get married , the middle aged woman who ran away from her husband , family, kids to live her life or the doctor , engineer , CA , daily laborer Watchmen whose family is in Bihar and given a small 5x5 room in the plush housing complex he is guarding .Each one of them stood behind the rebels in the noble cause .So they started kicking dust on road in late evening in the direction of Gandhinagar.They were in thousands , the brash slogans were turned into moral boosting songs and bhajans , seething anger receded , replaced by confidence of having support of millions of people .The news and media went berserk and covered the event as if there is no tomorrow .Killing of 18 soldiers in faraway Manipur was completely forgotten .SG highway to GandhiNagar was now blocked as the unending march ambled towards the capital city.
The Dandi march by Mahatma Gandhi had lofty  goals , to get recognition for adolescent Indian freedom movement and to take it to adulthood .He wanted to do this by opposing high tax by government on pristine white salt and by breaking a black law that no one can make salt other than government. There the issue was of immensely historic importance and being dealt with utmost sincerity .Here the marchers were having a gala time , there were celebrations in love of yellow mellow noodles , the devotion and affection was unfathomable. Gandhiji had just 79 of his chosen ashramites as core marchers, here a sea of gluttonous humans marched to Gandhinagar.There an advance party of Gujarat vidhyapith students made sure that austere marchers get clean, quiet and Spartan resting place , here the flash mob moved in advance announcing arrival of procession dancing to the music , having fun, singing songs, spending money obscenely.There the march was majorly through rural areas , here it was totally thru urban regime , SG Highway where every inch is lined with restaurants and hotels.
Next day ,The long corridors of government were melancholic in the bright sun .A portly bureaucrat with his dead pan expressions reasoned with the chief minister that we had banned just maggi for just one month .No one had any answers as the monster of procession proceeded defiantly towards them with intolerable cacophony of media .Of course, they cannot lathi charge them , tear gas them or fire at them just because they were opposing ban on Maggi.
When the state home minister, food minister, other ministers concerning the matter and the bureaucrats joined in huddle with chief minister to discuss the matter, she with a glint in her 73 year old eyes asked them to remove the ban.The war was won without any illegal cooking of Maggi.Somewhere in heaven,The greatest Gandhi wondered ….what if I have to take birth in this banana republic again ?
 

Nalsarovar Bird Sanctuary - An abode of migratory birds

The self-professed tourist guide wore a tattered jeans and equally dirty shirt.We were in Car , he was on his bike at the fringes of the road leading to the Nalsarovar Bird sanctuary as we discussed terms of his service.He talked about a famed Island in middle of the huge Nalsarovar lake (120 sq km ) , Lotus ponds, Bird’s nests ,exquisite Kashmiri grass (12 feet high) and sightings of migratory birds from distant northern lands.
It was getting late in afternoon so we quickly reached to an agreement.He would take us around the bird sanctuary in his boat and show all the possible features of one of the largest bird sanctuary in India.When I suggested him to wait as we wanted to have some snacks and drinks , he assured that we will get everything at the Island.The main season had yet not begun so the presence of tourists was scant .There were various loopholes at government operated entry point where we had to leave our car and take emission free vehicles to the jetty.
We had to take a wooden rowboat but the rowing will not be the usual way .The boatman will use a long pole and push the boat ahead by sticking it on bottom of lake as the waters were shallow. Hardly four feet.The shallow waters, marshes and hundreds of islets were the main constituents of bird sanctuary.The birds will reside on the little islets across the lake, feed off the marshes and vegetation in shallow waters. But as of now, almost 100 boats were lying turtle at the side of the lake in want of tourists.
Our guide handed us over to a smiling, bearded Muslim boatmen assuring us that he will show everything promised to us .The boat was big enough to carry 15-20 people .We were only four.It was 3.30 pm , soon the sun will start its descent in west but till the moment the heat was palatable.The lake was stretching to the horizon till one could see on western side.There was that famed island at great  distance from jetty on northern side and there were plethora of marshes , islets and little trees on eastern side. Such large water body was amazingly tranquil. The boatman asked us , whether we want to go to Island first to have snacks or want to go bird watching .We enthusiastically chose the later option.
The boat waded placidly towards the marshes while we got used to the sudden silence of nature around us. We were the solitary bird watchers in surrounding area and we were making lot of noise with this new found dominance. And then the boatman whispered from my behind ‘ShahbJi , Sahabji’ .I was alarmed by this conspiring whisper and looked back at him .He was pointing towards a tiny strip of land far on our right.There stood a pair of birds with white feathers but with huge dash of black on wings randomly picking up something to eat with their distinct red beak. Their legs though not visible clearly in the mud were also red.The boatman mouthed the name of the bird which I was able to understand after asking him to repeat.It was white stork.I came to know later on that this bird breeds in Northern Europe , South west Asia and north western Africa and migrate to Indian subcontinent to south Africa during winters.
 In any case we moved forward, the boatman pushed the boat through a thick patch of marshes and we found ourselves in another secluded water body .At one side ,nestled along with a bunch of vegetation were scores of lotus buds riding on thick stems almost a foot above the water.This was the lotus pond which our original guide was talking about.None of the lotus were blooming.Our boatmen explained that it is because of the heat of the day .But he smilingly bent from the boat and broke a lotus with a long stem .He opened the bud with his hands , literally made it bloom and punched little notches on its stem giving it an ornamental look .He tied the loose end of the stem with other end and bingo ! we had a flower garland ready .
He than moved us into thick maze of vegetations , sharply turning the boat at some places as if he knew each and every grass and plant on the way and parked us right on side of a bird’s nest ensconced in marshes.There were three cream colored eggs in the nest made of twigs and grass almost a size of a football.He mouthed stressing every letter that the nest is of purple heron .
Though I had started liking the simple man from village but did not really know what made him to bring us in this wilderness to the nest .So I asked him to show the bird. He nodded with a grin and took the boat off from heavy marshes .A few minutes later he whispered from my back and we all fell quiet .There was purple heron, a slender grey colored bird sitting on a little mud island , her back glistening from the waning sun.Again a bird that breeds into northern part of world and migrates to India , Africa in winters.The little noise we made in quiet lake disturbed the bird and she took a flight revealing several of her colors, she had purple brown feathers and reddish brown breast.Its ‘S’ shape neck sticking out as it searched for quieter pastures in the lake .We proceeded and passed through another lotus pond .There were many other birds , The boatmen kept on telling the name but it was difficult to remember .
We saw Asian bill stork . A large bird quite similar to White Stork which we saw first .There was a flock of these birds sitting on a small tree in the middle of small island .They were more of a local bird and breed in Indian subcontinent.
We missed watching many star birds like flamingoes or pelicans as they arrive only in deep winter season.There are over 200 species of birds in the season taking the lake as an abode.Our boatmen had ticked off all the items on this list of guide and now leading us to the famed island .The sky blue color watch tower was visible from the distance and we were expecting some good snacks and a cup of tea to relax with .We approached towards almost a story high Kashmiri grass and Shangri la of our imagination was just after that .The boatmen , a truthful and honest man ,warned that the eating place on the island might have got closed by now.But we were far from reality , keeping our great expectations with the place high.I remember the guide telling us that the snacks , kathiawadi food , cold drinks and tea everything will be available. And when we reached the muddy little dock of the island , the hopes were crashed.Just little ahead of the dock was lying upturned aluminum utensils on a stone deck covered by patchy cloth.There was brick kiln at the side for cooking.This was the eatery our original guide was talking about.The lady who runs this place was already off to her village due to less customers.I was a little upset with boatmen but his response was that he never told us all this , it was the guide who misrepresented .Nevertheless , we ambled towards the sky blue watch tower leaving the boatmen on shore for his evening Namaaz.There was nothing on island except bushes,plants and anthills .Some birds scampered here and there.But as we climbed up the tower the scenery changed.The sun was setting in west and tranquil water around the island was glistening .With many birds criss crossing the lake , The surroundings were looking beautiful .This was certainly a good place to be but it was ill maintained.
We returned back straight to jetty from the island as it was getting dark.As we bid goodbye to the boatmen, I handed over him a tip.The most enduring sight was him drifting away in the lake against the setting sun.He was certainly one of the most pleasant man I might have met in a year .We were all hungry and tired and speeded towards our resort to get our fill.

Elephant God in Tropical Rain......

One late evening ,I landed in Mumbai from Chandigarh.My nerves still frayed with the standoff with my control freak boss just when the plane was taxing on Chandigarh runway and airhostess was requesting shut down of all communication equipments.I had satisfaction of putting down the phone on him .Now it will be too late to resume communication so I was at ease .
As I picked up my baggage and moved out of the terminal , the atmosphere outside was cataclysmic. The rain God had held the reins of the city in concurrence with Wind the almighty .The tall poplars dotting the concrete jungle swayed with heavy thirst of rain and breeze. The eateries and pick up point outside the terminal were in disarray as sheets of tropical rain fell unforgivingly. I had to wait for long time before a taxi wallah was ready to take me to the company guest house at Malabar hill , some 25 kms from the airport.
The day coincidentally was Anant chaturdashi , the last day of immersion of Shri Ganesha .The Bihari taxi driver was quite frank about possible delays on the route as we would have to cross main city.As we speeded on western express highway, I started getting glimpses of most celebrated festival of Mumbai.The rain had subsided a lot by now and the fervent devotees were lining the sides of highway on their way to immersion.The elephant headed deity was sitting in every Avatar possible on the open back of small pick up vans to big trucks and trawlers.The people around every idol were drenched to the core dancing and singing.The rain continued and the dance of devotion continued everywhere .God Ganesha was created in innumerable forms , decorated in every innovative way possible.The idols were pretty ,some were colored like candies in the store , some like a flower garden , some were giants colored in blue like Shiva  , some seem to be coming straight from a gold mine and at least one was seemed to be out from a cartoon channel.They rested on magnificent thrones decorated with sparkling jewels , or on the Spartan seat of Sheshnag .Some were standing benignly, some were in dramatic pose of Natraj.
I instinctively joined my hands and prayed for peace as I passed each procession. When I closed my eyes and bowed down and concentrated on formless God, My ears filtered all noise around me , the pitter patter  of rainfall , the clunking of the cars and the cacophony of dhols. I only heard the songs being played in devotion of Lord Ganesha .The singers sang in unison …. Jaidev jaidev…. jai Managmurti  ….. …… Sindoor lal chadaya.
This public celebration of Ganesh chaturthi started just at the end of 19th century by Lokmanya tilak.Before that, the people used to worship clay idols in their home and immerse in nearby lakes.He recognized the potential of this practice to bring people together and create a vibrancy in the society .His ultimate goal was to unify people of Maharashtra against British colonial rule .The festival also encouraged people to participate in theatre , dance and music and served as meeting ground for people of all cast and communities.
He would have also not thought that his initiative will become so big in scale and spread across entire western India in just 100 years of time .
As we crossed Mahim  and moved towards Parel,The chawls of bygone were also lit with decorative lights.But the Ganesha at many pandals had already embarked for final journey , Leaving behind desolate, hollow ,abandoned seat.It was strange that how the temple or the pandal which had become cynosure of all eyes in locality for nine days lost its preeminence as soon as the venerated idol was gone .Sadness seeped into the empty and dark stall without the spiritual presence of Vidhanharta.The rain lashed out intermittently and we managed our way to south Mumbai , dodging unending processions .I had said enough prayers for the whole year by the time I reached the guesthouse.
At some point ,I felt that the tradition itself has brought disrespect and abandonment to elephant God .One cannot ignore the unpalatable images of statues lying broken on the beaches and ghats after immersion.The immersion has become messy with exponential rise in pandals and processions. But who can contest sentiments of Millions of people ……..Who can oppose an event which rejuvenates the society and bring a spiritual high.The only words left in my mind were …. Ganapati bappa moriya , agle baras tu jaldi aa.

Hammering of Indian Cricket team by England

The recent mauling of Indian cricket team by England in Investec test series by 3-1 was spectacular. My deepest sympathies to brave and gritty Indians who fought Britishers in their own land and lost gallantly.This all has brought memories of such a defeat two years back which I witnessed personally.
Though I am not a cricket buff and I rarely sit and watch matches on TV but like everyone else I feel elated when Team India win a match.I try to follow cricket at times when the team is doing good and breaking some records.In any case , there has been so many matches and tournaments happening nowadays that it is difficult to keep track.World cup of 20-20 in 2012 was one of those tournaments I was clueless about.
It was happening in Sri Lanka and I was there for some work.It was the last day of my tour in Colombo.We finished our meeting with one of our customers on Airport road and proceeded towards Colombo when my agent Ruwan had this spark.He was a short fair guy with a toothy smile.Always tried to be funny .
‘Hey , don’t you know that today evening is super 8 match between India and Australia?’ he spoke out from behind as our Nano taxi surged on crowded road.
‘Yeah I read it somewhere.Can we go there today ?’I asked tentatively .We were free for the evening and it could have been good recreational activity for us.But I knew that these matches were important and probably all tickets would have been sold out .Even if some are available than it will be on high prices.
‘Why not ? ‘ He hit my back with palm of his hand. ‘lets give it a try.But beware that there will be lot of traffic and maybe we will return empty handed’. We had nothing to lose except time so we moved towards R Premdassa stadium in Colombo.
As the darkness descended on the port city aided by overbearing clouds , we skipped some heavily clogged lanes with help of artful direction by Ruwan.I felt the excitement as the tall stands of the stadium appeared nestled in a heavily populated area.As soon as we got out of car when we were near enough , 3-4 dark men approached us.Ruwan negotiated with them quietly and came to me with an unexpected price.It was just INR 300 per person.That was it,I am going to witness this international match , the first one ever in my life .  
We left our bags and laptops in the car , asked him to reach hotel and merged into the crowd moving towards the entrance. I was still apprehensive about the whole business of entering the stadium as I had heard hoary stories of having to stand in line for hours and stampedes which will almost kill you.But again It was a cake walk as we jostled inside with crowd controlled by smartly dressed Security personnel outside the stadium.As we entered the stand and started climbing the stairs , young volunteers wearing black T shirts-Jeans checked our tickets and tied a small plastic band in our wrists.
I still was not able to believe my luck that I will be watching Dhoni and Yuvraj ,Gambhir and Virat at Indian side.Shane Watson and Hussey from Australia live .As we climbed up , I saw a mosque in the vicinity of stadium and nearby shops serving kebabs.it was too late and I was hungry .Ruwan assured me that we can get sandwiches and beer within the stadium.
We settled at a place with a group of Australians behind us, a group of srilankan youngsters below us and by our side and pretty girls from Pakistan along with escorts far at the end of the stand.Needless to say that Indians were all around some wearing colors of flag all over.
The actual match started far from my vision, the super hero players were looking like minions.I could not understand when toss happened but India decided to bat first.Dhoni seemed to be talking with press at one corner of stadium while our stand was scanned by a dog squad.
Ruwan brought glasses of bear and sandwiches as the first ball was thrown . Gambhir and Pathan commenced the innings.Indian all over were cheering their team. As one of them struck a four , the spectators erupted in roar , the cheer girls at the bottom of stand, on nip of ground gyrated , and the metal nozzles placed around the ground threw up the flares.There were festivities all around .Crowd was now roaring for six and I was gulping beer merrily.Ruwan being a cricket aficionado was throwing up all kind of statistics assuring me that India will win this time . But Gambhir had to go.We lost our first wicket in 3rd over which silenced crowd a little bit.No worries , Ruwan assured ,India has humongous batting line up. Pathan hit a six and crowd went crazy.However unassumingly things for indian team started sliding down as we kept on losing wickets one after another .They were never able to reach the crescendo which everyone expected and closed the innings at 140/7.
India had a chance , some people were saying and I was very hopeful .The third beer and handful of fried snacks were helping me to keep my mood at bay.A slight drizzle changed the scene as volunteers pulled huge sheets of rain cover on the ground with army like efficiency .Soon the ground was looking like a oversized morgue.But the rain did not last for long and the covers were removed with same efficiency .
Australian batsmen descended and Indians surrounded them .The field was set and everybody was anticipating that Dhoni will have some magic tricks to bag the match .He did as he started with a spinner Ashwin .However things never came in India’s hand as Shane Watson and Warner created a partnership which ended only when they were very close to the target and with ample of overs to play for .India failed miserably to get any wickets or stem the run rate .India lost the match with 9 wickets and 7 overs.We left the stadium dejected , head hanging in disappointment as if we have lost a major battle of life.Pakistanis at the far end of stand were looking quite happy as they walked out of stadium along with us.
However Ruwan still kept the night alive and invited me to one of his family get together happening nearby.I agreed and I did not regret as they were having an amazing party in one of the plush srilankan houses.The party went on long after midnight where everyone shared my grief .It was a great end of one of the eventful day.

Revealing Mountains

Illusion can be so big,apparition can be so credible.
I saw tall and dark mountains ,blocking the horizons.It had just rainedI drive every day,on the broken roads,laid amidst fertile farms
I climb the same stairs , stand on the high landing taking the view of country afar.Ripe fields and a rivulet,Tall poplars and a snaky path lead to a village
End of the land was always a haze,the fields mixed with the dull sky in the usual maze.
But today it was different,It had just rained.
I rubbed my eyes as I saw the back drop of the horizon wither,
Majestic mountains appeared like apparition , running from one end of land to other.
It can not be true, is it a illusion created by mist and clouds
I shook my head , tried to see the old horizon again with lot of doubts.
The stress is taking upon me, the obstacles have taken shape of mountains standing before me.
But they were there , immovable as were they , for thousand of years.
Beautiful as were they, in middle of clouds and rain.Hidden in heat and pollution of harsh summer,revealing as the season change.

A visit to Sri Lanka - Just when the three decade old bloody war was coming to an end

  As I flew for the tear drop island, south of Indian peninsula, I had the anticipation of an enchanting land, barely separated from the ancient continent by a narrow sea channel. I imagined a sparsely populated country, with beautiful blue sea, white sand beaches, clean air and people with laid back attitude. The aircraft crossed the small stretch of Indian Ocean and on the left I saw great expanse of land .As we flew on the sea, a little distance from the sea coast, I was able to see verdant greenery, sandy beaches getting enamored regularly by sapphire sea waves. Further down the beaches, were placid lagoons, glistening in afternoon sun, small houses with brown roofs, ensconced in eternal green cover. The aircraft banked to the left and entered into the cozy landscape .We cruised to lower altitude , and I could see mountains covered with greenery , a small black road meandering across water channels , thru the mountainous route towards the horizon .A land that looks so small in a geographical map , the smallness accentuated by its location just beside India and being a island in mighty Indian ocean ,is actually big enough to be home of 20 million people , innumerable forests and beaches .As we descended between irregular clouds , urban locality nesting the international airport appeared .We landed and I walked across “welcome to srilanka” posters
The ride to hotel was one of many I will be taking in subsequent three days .the roads were clean and clear with sparse traffic .The driver, as anticipated, was laid back. I could spot some really beautiful stone houses on the roadside amidst the usual brick and mortar structures .The house would rise to two storeys and sometime three storeys. It would be having slanting roofs complete with terracotta tiles .the edges will be decorated with metal filigree colored same as roofs .There will be balconies carved out on upper floors ,upright rectangular windows with elaborate lace curtains .the differentiation of house was the color scheme. It would be colored brilliantly in different contrasting tones. A burgundy colored roof will be contrasted with cream walls, a pleasant green roof adorned on bright white walls.The wooden work on windows, balconies and front porch was distinctively conventional .Every house was artfully different from other, exotic in its own sense.
Sign of an ensuing war were everywhere to be seen .As I ride out of airport , I could see iron barricades on both side of the roads till a long distance , Army men with their machine guns were posted intermittently on either side of passage .Further in the city ,I could see armed police men almost at any place , they will be standing in front of shop in a crowded market , in front of a forlorn land plot in busy locality , walking around In groups along the road , standing on ubiquitous check posts checking the passers by .As the car FM played on the selected scores of Carpenters , Chris de burgh and Michael Bolton , the driver raved about the plight the war had brought to the people .Lack of tourists , lack of business and heightened threats of life and limb from seemingly unstoppable terrorist attacks .The cost of things of daily use were almost double to treble as compared to Indian prices. We hoped together as we reached hotel that all the sufferings of people will funnel into the will of government to bring a full and final end to the longest war of subcontinent.
Holiday inn Is on Gaulle road  just beside the seafront. This was the place where most of the other big hotels of Colombo were located .there was a military establishment just 100 ft from my place , the residence of president just half km down the road . I could see the abounding ocean from my room window .There was a long cement walkway along the seafront jutted with a big sandy ground for people on picnic. This place was always swarming with people of all hues. The huge families or almost a whole community ,big groups of boys and girls , group of villagers will be hauling from somewhere in omnipresent Nissan pickup trucks .the trucks will be conveniently parked along the camouflage colored vehicles of army and off the passengers will go for fun and frolic with their picnic brick brats . This onslaught will continue till late night .I could see the couples sitting on the stone benches facing the ever animated sea. The waves will hit the embankment with full force sprinkling cold water indiscriminately on the path. Vendors along the road will be selling sea foods, salad, fried snacks and rice .Toys with lots of lightings will also be available. Some groups will carry the dholes or guitars, the sound of music could be heard in the din of crowd and crashing waves. The security people with their guns will be most unobtrusive in this seemingly high security area.
My stroll around the area next evening led to some interesting results .I reached to a little raised part of the road to discover that it was bridge over a railway line hidden due to all around urban constructions .The railroad was running right towards the sea which made me wonder its purpose. I discovered slowly by asking the people around that this rail line come down from center of city and runs along the coast and goes at least 200km south to a certain unpronounceable station .There was a station just down the military headquarters .I chugged to that place in no time .The station, from its outward appearance was looking no more than big srilankan house if one could obliterate the rail line coming across at its right. I entered and bought a ticket of next station from a enthusiastic ticket clerk .It was a old station called slave island for some unknown reason .the slanted ceilings were made of wooden logs colored in dark green .there was a small Disneyland like wooden over bridge on the rails .The usual lattice work was to be seen on the edges of ceilings , railings of the over bridge .Beside that the walls were drab and blank and there was no other fringes except a few stone benches .This station was in centre of one of the most developed area of Colombo and was catering to transport needs of hundreds of people .The platform was filled with people by the time next train come . I could not compare any of this with maddening crowd of commuters in Indian cities .As we boarded the train , I took my place on the door towards the side where I anticipated the coast to come .the train lurched forward at a moderate speed with its hoard of sleepy , tired people .We meandered surreptitiously around the well lit high rise hotels and apartments , crossed that same bridge where I had discovered this rail .We were heading right towards the dark ocean .The turn ahead was steep, I was leaning out of door with my face towards front , the engine lurched leftwards and in no moment my face was awash with balmy sea wind .As the train drew itself parallel to Indian ocean , I could see the dark expense of water towards the west embellished with distinctive lights of ships standing afar The rail line was laid hardly 10feet away from the coast . Surely British engineers had never thought about calamities like tsunami or global warming. The train sped through darkness; one side was totally populated with malls, offices, hotels and restaurants while the other side was the unforgiving sea. The experience was enthralling and by the time I got down on next station, I was fully taken by charm of the ride.
My borrowed sim card from local agent was continuously receiving the messages from a news agency , relating instant details about the fierce war going on in north .The cell phone kept on buzzing through out my stay in Colombo with information of foiled attempts by Tamil Tigers to regain lost posts , recovery of aircraft spares or multibarrel launchers by Srilankan troops , statements of foreign governments against the war , capture of grounded ship of Tigers and capture of their leaders .The contrast of this pristine island on war with its own people was really unnerving .My days were spent in customer visits, a visit to one of the ancient temple of Colombo, a late night visit to the casino where lots of Chinese escorts were swarming around, while people lost the money.I noticed: A lot of well uniformed school children going home in sultry afternoon in all the areas I passed, uninhabited Sinhalese women comfortable with their dark complexion, simplicity of Sinhalese men, awkwardness of Tamils I met. I heard: the drivers and agents outlining the uniqueness of the island, A Muslim auto rickshaw driver not happy with present government who is considered unsympathetic to minorities, Bollywood music on street, people wondering why I don’t know Tamil. As the trip drew to an end I only wished that someday I could return back to this place with my loved ones to visit the mountainous candy in central srilanka, a full train journey to the beaches towards south, the wild life reserves in pristine north …. Where the quarter century old war will come to end in next one week .Prayers of millions of suffering inhabitants of this beautiful island will be answered. Including mine.