Money does not always make mare to go!

Travelogue July 2015 (iv)

9^th July, 2015 by 3 PM the ‘Home on Wheels’ was already loaded with the camp paraphernalia. A little before our departure, Dilbar Mir  watchman of the Gagangir Park and Tourist hut told us that a solitary Kashmiri Pundit who once was a prominent figure in the area lives in village Gund Kullar, a few kilometres down Gagangir towards Kangan-Ganderbal. Fragile, he lives all alone, assisted by security guard from J&K Police.

Dilber Mir told me that being conspicuous he is known to all including village children and womenfolk in the vicinity. Curiosity did not let me go without discovering the Pundit. I finally located the particular lane and asked street children to guide me to only Pundit Ji in the area. They named him as Avtar and lead me to a small double storey house through the courtyard of Ghulam Nabi Sheikh. I was already told by a shopkeeper who guided me to the lane that he must be lying in a bed.

I entered into a dark dingy room. All its windows were shut. The room smack repugnant and foul. Intuition lead me to one corner where Autar Krishan lied under a quilt. I removed the quilt a little that made the dirty bedding live with the movement of its inmate. On my request Autar Krishan changed his posture and came to sitting position. He was dressed in dirty warm clothing. Soon two of his three bodyguards, Abdul Rashid, Ghulam Nabi and Ishtiaq from J K Police, in pheran stepped in. On my request the two opened the windows to let in fresh air to replace the stagnant one.

Autar Krishan Raina is a paralytic patient since 2004. He can’t talk. He conveys by gestures and signals.  His security guards usually take him to Soura Institute for treatment in a Police van. His guards are reluctant to admit him in the Institute for want of an attendant. They occasionally change his dress. His neighbour and  colleague Ghulam Nabi Sheikh, a disgruntled friend serves him with one time meal. At times of need they serve him with bed-pot and piss-pot as well.

On my exit, Ghulam Nabi Sheikh in the courtyard greeted me. One of the two guards accompanied me. Both of them pressed me for a cup of tea. My pleading that my younger brother was on wait for me on the roadside and it was the day of fast did not work. I was lead to a common room beside the kitchen. ‘Sheirie chaie’ and homemade roti fried in Dhara was served. On my instructions, the guard accompanying me served my brother with thermos full of ‘sheirie chaie’ his weakness.

Gossip at the tea party was on the topic related to Autar krishan. Thus spake his disgruntled friend Ghulam Nabi Sheikh:

“Autar Krishan Raina son of Pundit Nila Kanth Raina is basically resident of Vicharnagh. His younger brother Piyaray Lal Raina lives at Bantalab area, may be Durga Nagar II. Autar Krishan Raina lives a bachelor’s life.

After mass migration of Kashmiri Pundits, the lone Pundit Autar Krishan left behind became all powerful official at the Electric Department Ganderbal district. Knowing ins and outs of the department, the Chief Engineer, the Executive Engineer, AEE and others trusted him. All financial transactions routed through him. He was not the most favourite of his officers only but favourite of all militant organisations.  He used to throw feasts for militants and pay them well. Militant organisations through internal communication had pledged not to harm Pundit Ji.

Autar Krishan used to pay heavily to run the household of his younger brother Piyaray Lal, who was posted at Leh- Ladakh and whom he treated as his son. He used to send him rice, dry and fresh vegetables besides, meat and fish preparations. Once when admitted at Soura Institute, Piyaray Lal responded positively and came from Jammu to see, serve and attend on his ailing brother. He left for change for a little while. After a long wait he responded from Patnitop on way back to Jammu.

Autar Krishan, financially and officially sound was in a commanding position among locals, relations, colleagues and friends. He was always welcome by different households and so changed his ‘dera’ very often. One day he agreed to my suggestion and purchased five Marlas (272x5 square feet) of land apportioned from the courtyard with passage from me for construction of a house-a permanent ‘Dera’. One day he again shifted to some ‘Dera’ with all his belongings including carpets, TV and other household gadgets.  When back to his house he had to come back without any of his belongings.

Autar Krishan  told me that on its ultimate sale, he would charge me his initial investment of Rs.85,000. To my disappointment Autar Krishan approached the Divisional Commissioner with a complaint against me.  I had apprehensions that payment to a person who can’t speak may put me in the soup. Tehsildar stood witness to the payment and the Judge registered the document with the rider that until he is alive, Autar Krishan will live in the house as its owner and thereafter, the house would automatically in whatever condition be the property of my son in whose name the property is registered. From his gratuity and G P Fund collection, he sent Rs.1,00,000 to Piaray Lal and some amount to his elder brother for distribution among brothers and sisters. The money spoiled relations between the eldest and the youngest for the youngest refused to share one lac that was sent to him separately. Due to dispute of one lac the eldest refused the money.”

In the meantime, Autar Krishan had come out of his room and was in the chair basking in the sun. I offered him my services. He refused to accompany me to Jammu and by gestures and hands towards the sky told me that he left himself to the care of his destiny and God will take care of him.

Gesture of a good host, the guard and Ghulam Nabi accompanied me to ‘Home on Wheels’ collected the thermos and bade us goodbye.

At Manigam Crossing, we took to Ganderbal road, then to 90 feet road and via Dr. Ali Jan road reached Zainakot by twilight. (Travelogue concluded)

Autar Krishan, financially and officially sound was in a commanding position among locals, relations, colleagues ,friends and militants. He was always welcome by different households and so changed his ‘dera’ very often.
Today, despite a good financial position Autar Krishan Raina, paralytic since 2004 is neglected by his friends, relations and others. This is enough to prove that  money does not always make mare to go!
https://youtu.be/L8LRFMvccpA

Rainy Day along the River Sind

(Travelogue 2015 Part III )

 https://youtu.be/WPAiDh8KrkQ

5^thJuly, 2015 early morning after bath and breakfast with our elder brother Girdhari Lal at Zainakot rented house in front of our houses in debris, we; I and my younger brother Ram Sarup executed the plan for trip to Sonamarg-Baltal, 100 kilometres away from Srinagar. We took to Shadipor-Ganderbal bypass road through cluster of villages like Vokuer, Nunaer,  Vasuer, Manigam etc.  Until eruption of militancy in 1990, these villages were inhabited by Kashmiri Pundits too. Great saints like Nandh Bub and Kasheakak were from Nunear and Manigam respectively.

Belly of ‘The House on Wheels’ was filled to its capacity at a petrol pump in the vicinity of Prang. At Kangan market, we made a little of shopping of grocery and bakery items including bread, packed pickles, edible oil, potatoes, onions, tomatoes etc. Far ahead of Prang around 1 PM, we declared the hour for lunch break. The sumptuous lunch consisted of two local breads with local packed pickles for each of us. It was enough to let us drive further for our destination.

To avail of the benefit of the stopover, we preferred to defuse the little pressure on our respective bladders. I asked people around if they could guide us to any public or private convenience point around. Being one of them for the last 76years and five months, I was little surprised when they directed me to any secluded site on the roadside as the most suitable place for urination.  Conscious of the recent advertisements on ‘Swatch-Bharat’, we made it doubly sure that none was around with a camera for any sting operation. I recalled the caution that was given to me by my 2006 born grandson Avigna Jalali a boy of 5 in the year 2011 at Dubai camp site when being a Kashmiri,  I behaved and availed of my perfect freedom of urination in the interior of a bushy deserted  area. I took his caution lightly. The next day my hair bristled when I read one of the news in the News paper that read: “One Taxi driver from Pakistan was apprehended while urinating among bushes away from the roadside. He was fined, imprisoned and bundled back to Pakistan with orders never to land in Dubai again”. Mid seventies, Pundit Zanardhan Wali-‘Baitoth’ from Badiyar Srinagar visited his son Dr. Autar Krishan Wali, a scientist of repute in Germany. One of the don’ts in the verbal instructions given to father by his German national son was that before he stepped out, he must ensure that he emptied his bladder at home. In case anybody in Germany sits by the roadside to ease, he finds an ambulance behind him on wait for him. He is taken to a nearby hospital and all sorts of tests are made on him to ascertain the reason for untimely nature’s call to him at an odd place.

‘Thank god, we in India or in any part of India enjoy freedom to pollute the atmosphere to any extent.’  Restrictions imposed by the J&K State Government on polythene are only on paper. In case of strictness, the Government is scared of the reaction by those who fight for freedom to pollute the peaceful atmosphere. The Government believes in let the sleeping dogs lie asleep.

In absence of any public convenience point from Lakhinpore, the entry point to J&K State right up to Baltal, Pahalgam or other tourist spots apprehensions of pollution to Syed Ali Shah Geelani, Mohammad Yasin Malik, Mirwaiz Dr. Omar Farooq, Shabir Shah and others in the present scenario are justified. I suggest they better to awaken the respective agencies to look for ways and means to ensure pollution free atmosphere around rather than to restrict the yatra.

Seeing male and female, old and young tourists helplessly sitting aside the road to ease is shame on the part of the State / Central Government/Directorate of Tourism, Ministry of Tourism, and respective Development Authorities including the Shri Amar Nath Ji Shrine Board.  Tourism is the backbone of the State economy. A big chunk of our population survives on tourism.  Entire tourist route, tourist spots, gardens and parks must be punctuated with hygienic toilet outlets. Until the requisite toilet points are constructed, our Chief Minister cum Minister for tourism while luring outsiders for visit to Kashmir must provide each tourist with as many diapers as the number of days he/she stays in Kashmir.

 Sonamarg Development Authority seems to be concerned with revenue collection with little concern for development. Not to speak for the requisite toilet points, there is no dustbin in and around the crowded area in front of the Fish Point Sonamarg or in the Rafting Area in front of the Fish Point. At Gagangir-Sonamarg, the hoarding in capital letters reads:

“WELCOME

Sonamarg Development Authority Welcomes You                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       At the Enchanting And Picturesque Valley of Sonamarg”

The Tourist believes the hoarding and alights from his vehicle. Soon he gets disgusted when he on spot finds:

 (1)Broken water pipes with flowing water without any vertical length fitted with tap to it.

(2) Guest house amidst the park with no water connection and electric supply when private houses and hotels around are electrified with proper electric and water connections.           

(3)  When in absence of any toilet point he/she has no option but to cross the footbridge meant for locals and eases across the river Sind in the forest area.   

Same in ditto is true for THE ISLAND RETREAT PARK, Sonamarg about three kilometres ahead of Gagangir Park. There is no toilet point, no water connection and no electric connection when a huge number of water pipes are piled up within the Park premises alongside an idle transformer. Expenditure on idle material is in fractious and invites audit objection.  

Sonamarg 85 km away from Srinagar is a nature’s marvel. By the sunset we reached Sonamarg. With thirst to look for more, we went to Baltal fifteen kms ahead of Sonamarg. It was disgusting to watch the neglected dusty area overcrowded with parked vehicles. The Police suspiciously directed all vehicles including those that had to return to pass through the parking slot. Though I sidelined the parking slot and did not cross the barrier, yet the keepers despite their argument failed to get a payment of forty rupees as parking charges from me.

Comparing Dubai administration with J&K or Indian administration, it  is nothing short of comparing Parverdigar with Naidyar. Each park even those that have free entry in Dubai is provided with a classic public convenience enclosure with liquid soap, tissue paper and electric blower. Unlike India, toll tax gets automatically debited to the account of the car owner and likewise for any traffic violation, the owner of the car gets an instant SMS regarding the fine debited to his/her account. Indian administrators close their eyes to such type of foolproof system to let the pilferage continue on. Parliamentarians in India and MLAs of State Assemblies do go on tour to different countries but only to get tax free gifts for their near and dear ones. Mrs. Prathiba Patil the then President of India obliged her far and near relations with a tour abroad before she relinquished her office. ‘Leajie ti chuer te gujie ti chuer’ ‘yehan durvaishee bi ayaree sultanee bi’

By dusk, our tent, with the help of Vishal Sharma a taxi driver from Jammu was pitched on the bank of the roaring branch of the River Sind.  The roaring musical sound of the river during the nights of 5^th-6^th and 6^th-7^th July 2015 lulled us to sound sleep. Get-together with strangers during the day was an additional bonus of the trip. 7^th July after lunch, the camp was closed only to be opened at Gagangir, 9+3 km down the stream. At Gagangir, we sought help from three High School students headed by Irfan. The trio sought permission from Dilbar Mir, Chowkidar of the park and they carried the camp paraphernalia like our bedding, utensils, handigas, dining table, ration etc down to the camp site. Besides, they pitched the tent. 8^th morning a new team of helpers arrived. They were fascinated with our adventure. They were three years younger to the previous group. Their team leader was Janhangir Chouhan assisted by Irfan Chouhan. Other members of the team were Shamim-1, Shamim II, Nazakat. Parvez and Mehraj-ul-din. They were all Chouhan living across the river Sind among the Deodar trees in dense forest. 7^th-8^th; 8^th-9^th nights at Gagangir Park and the day in the company of Chouhan boys are beyond description. Thrice a day, they shifted our kitchen paraphernalia to shady areas under shady tree and finally back to tent enclosure. Handigas filled in 2012, finally breathed its last on 9^th July after it served us up to last and was to get packed. 9^th July Chouhan boys lead me to their Gujar Bahaks in the forest. Their love for a stranger with no expectations was a new experience for me at 76 and a half.  9^th afternoon we parted with a heavy heart. (To be concluded)

Padma Shri Nek Chand

Padma Shri Nek Chand is dead is an illusion. Nek Chand is alive and will continue to live till eternity.  A person who gave life to rocks can never die.Under the nose of Punjab / Haryana High Court and Civil Secretariat, Nek Chand the Genius gave the planned city a big surprise in the form of  the world famous Rock Garden in early seventies. The then Chief Engineer and the then Head of the UT did not honour his invitation to open the Rock Garden. Nek Chand was delighted to receive me and my elder brother at the auspicious occasion. He was delighted to pose for a photograph (Black & White) with us. He told us that he used to visit all village fairs and pay young boys 10paisa - 20 paisa coin to collect bangle pieces around the  bangle seller at these fairs. He used to carry sackful bangle pieces personally to the site of the Garden in making. When Chandigarah was in making, all other PWD employees but for  the honest Nek Chand made their fortune. Nek Chand was an eyesore and laughing stock among his colleagues. He was assigned the charge of the keeper of dead stock like empty tar coal drums, set cement bags, fused tube lights and other useless articles, little knowing that the naked hands of Nek Chand would infuse life in the set cement bags and the like. Tar coal drums placed one over the other fortified the  area meant for junkyard. The Rock Garden within was finally a surprise to the authorities without the permission of whom even position of the brick in one's kitchen needed their  permission.  

My Bicycle

I was six. The World War Second had come to an end. Father gave us a pleasant surprise. He arrived in along with a new bicycle. It was Hercules made in England. Each part of the vehicle was engraved with the word ‘Hercules made in England'. The bicycle was purchased from the wholesale merchant at Hari Singh High Street, second shop on the corner of the lane leading to Hanuman Mandir, for rupees forty-nine and eight annas. The saddle was attached with a toolbox, carrying a few wrenches , solution tube and a few rubber patches. The frame of the bicycle had arrangement to fix one small pump.

The scene was festive. An astrologer was consulted in advance to look for the auspicious day. The news of the new arrival reached neighbours, friends and relations. The evening was unlike all other ordinary evenings. People poured in to congratulate. Mother changed ath-athoer of the ‘dejhore’. She changed her sari too. The new ath-athoer and the sari had come from her mother.

The bicycle was garlanded. The whole family offered prayers at Kathleshwaer Mandir, the local temple and expressed gratitude to Lord Shanker.. The next day ‘satidiv’ prashad was distributed amongst neighbours and relations. It worked as an announcement of the purchase.. The week turned out as the week of celebration. The inmates were thrilled to entertain the guests. The local baker Maheshwar Nath was instructed to be in readiness. Being at number three, the first day, I did not get any chance to touch the bicycle. I had to be contented with a look from distance. I could not resist the feel of its touch any longer. All others, tired, went to bed. I waited until they took to snoring. Stealthily I availed of the chance to satiate my longing for the touch.

People around used to borrow our bicycle. It gave us a momentary feel of being from the privileged class. The facility could be availed by the restricted few on holidays only.

The Bicycle was the sole property of our father. No other family member had any right on it. I usually stealthily used to steal an opportunity for a joyride when my father would go for a nap.

To carry someone on the carrier and to cycle after dusk without light were legal offences. Besides, managing law and order, the police usually used to arrest the law offenders for carrying double seat or for cycling without light after dusk. The accused was charge sheeted in the court of law and fined to the extent of rupees two to three. At times the matter was compounded without any challan for one or two annas that would not go to the government treasury.

A token tax of one rupee and two annas was charged by the Municipal authorities. At times the authorities would come out on the road to boost the revenue collection. The brass token in exchange was screwed on the handle of the bike. The head of the collection team was our distant neighbour and so our bike had never attained the honour of the fixation of the token.

 1954, I joined first-year of the four-year degree course at Amarsingh College , Srinagar . The Principal of the college, Sahibzada Mohmud Ahmad used to come to the college on a bicyle of green colour. His peon Mahmud would always be in readiness to takeover the bicycle. While dusting the bicycle, he would look around with an air of authority. Professor N.L.Darbari, Professor Rehman Rahi, Professor T.N.Kilam, Professor Aslam Khan and a few more professors did not have facility of the caretaker. We the students would often discuss the quality, the colour and condition of the bicycles of the privileged professors. Many others were either not such affluent or did not know cycling.

 After a lot of pleas, to facilitate my education, I was handed the ownership of the bicycle that once rested with my father. The night that followed the auspicious day in my life, somehow became too lengthy for me. The whole night I did not get even a wink of sleep. Reveries flashed across my mind. At last the day dawned. The day was a long awaited one in my life. While cycling to college, my eyes were fixed on the row houses along the road instead on the road itself. Four rupees as parking charges per month  was an allied worry to me. I somehow managed to dig out some relation with the keeper Vesh Nath at the parking booth and escaped the liability.

To be an owner of a cycle was not a smooth sail. A number of times I had to land in police lockup for carrying another person along with or cycling without light.

 1960, I purchased one Raleigh Cycle made in India from Duran Cycle at Exchange Road Srinagar for rupees two hundred ten. This time it was Raleigh Cycle made in India. The owner of the shop, Durani Brij Nath was kind enough to provide me with installment facility. A monthly installment of ten rupees was fixed. My friend J.L.Pandita (retired DIG police) also went to Duran Cycle. He was refused the installment facility for want of a guarantor. On my guarantee, Pandita became my equal.

Maqbool the mechanic at the shop had an  additional assignment of collection of the installments. He was feeling obliged for smooth and regular installment of rupees ten each. Within eleven months the interest free finance was liquidated.

 Both of us, the bicycle and me lived in a close harmony for a number of years. It stood by me in sun and shower. It accompanied me to Zainapore, Verinagh and many other places. It served me well during my post graduation from 1963-65. It saved me eight annas a day, the to and fro bus fare to the university. It added not to my personality only but swelled my pocket too. Now I could attend more tuition. For its smooth behavior it had endeared itself to me. I had developed a lot of love for it. Its service in period of adversity was immense. It charged me nothing. It was unlike today’s Maruti, which does not buzz an inch unless I fill its belly with costly gasoline. Had the Bike not been stolen, I would love to give it a feel of joy ride in the selfish Maruti.

Encounter

Today the 17^th May 2015, headline on most of the TV Channels was about the death of Manoj in an encounter. The Police claim that he was wanted criminal and he opened fire when asked to surrender. His family members deny the Police report and claim that it was murder of an innocent in a fake encounter. Besides, they said that there was no complaint against him at any police station.

I recalled an event narrated by a police inspector in the year 1988.  Those days my friend retired DIG J L Pandita was posted as SP Control Room Srinagar. I often used to visit him after my working hours in his office. One day one Inspector Police a Sardar ji, posted at PCR Srinagar after his training at Punjab Police Academy, Phillaur narrated an interesting event on encounter.

At Phillaur some juniors with one or two stars asked him as to how many murders he committed to become an Inspector of Police. He was surprised and told them that he is supposed to check murders and not to commit murders. They were surprised to know that in J&K State people get promotions without fake encounters. They said that in their state, when a new SSP takes charge of the district, he manipulates fake encounters to be in the News on the front page to qualify for promotion out of turn. The modus operandi is a set formula like (a+b) whole square. A petty goonda is pampered by the concerned SHO until he feels that he is very close to police and gets encouraged to commit heinous crimes to earn notoriety in the society. He knows not that the Police maintains record of his criminal activities in its daily diaries. One day the public heaves a sigh of relief when the head line of the national paper reads that the notorious criminal was eliminated by the police in an encounter. The one star officer gains one more star and so the one with two or three. The SSP gets promoted to leave the district Head Quarter for the next to qualify for promotion. . .

1989 Bashir Haroon at the age of 13 innocently boarded a matador at Exhibition Crossing, Srinagar in response to the call from its conductor for ‘Kupwoer-Apuer’(Kupwara & across the border).  Farooq Abdullah’s regime seemed to be hand in glove with the Organizers of the mayhem as no police or Traffic Officer en route a distance of more than 200 km crossing a number of district Headquarters without route permit checked the documents of the driver.

Bashir crossed the border illegally, little knowing the consequences. Three month stay in POK and he was back to the valley. After his return, he felt repentant for his childish act and did not indulge in any unlawful act as reported by Bashir.

1995, he was apprehended and detained under PSA for nine months.

After his release, he was a peaceful citizen of India dedicated to his small business as a fruit vender.

He was assured protection against the active militants by Sharma Sahib, SSP BSF. Sharma Sahib often used to purchase fruit from him at market price.   Sharma Sahib had almost tamed Bashir. Even today Bashir has soft corner for Sharma Sahib.

One day Sharma Sahib along with his contingent came to Bashir and prepared him for one act play. Bashir and a few of his colleagues were each provided with a mask and AK47 without magazines. A deserted Kashmiri Pundit house was selected as the studio for shooting the film.

Sharma Sahib was script playwright, director and producer of the film; all-in-one.

Bashir and his associates were positioned at different positions on the windows of the house as directed and finally surrendered and fled from the scene as unidentified militants. Electronic and Print Media took it for real encounter. People around ran helter-skelter to escape any stray bullet. Transport both public and private went off the road instantaneously.

Electronic Media covered the scene live and the Print Media made a Headline of it the next day. Sharma Sahib and his associates qualified for commendation letters from the then Home Minister of India and soon got promotion to the next higher step.

'Baki sub theek hai'

Mid eighties at Sadiq Nagar, Delhi, one student of sixth class boasted his trickery for copying essay on the cow in his examination. He had concealed the smuggled paper in his geometry box. He had already paid the invigilator to let him copy. I noticed many mistakes in the text and told him that besides many mistakes he had written wrongly that the cow has two years instead of two ears. The boy said that he already scored hundred percent marks in the paper. We in the valley had 'A' class education that sustained us in exile. The Cow culture has taken over Kashmir to make it at par with Sadiq Nagar Delhi and integral part of India. 'Kacher Gav' (Brown Cow' was issued admission card and roll number slip for taking entrance test for technical education. Pir Sahab, the erstwhile chairman for technical education was jailed in the recent past for selling question papers on whole sale to retailers. 'Halat tushvish nak hain ta hum under control hain-Baki sub theek hai' Allah CM sahab ko rakhu bunavay'

‘Haya ye chuna Habhea Kadal’

Characters:
D Sabh; Makhanlal Saraf (Saraf Sabh)
And
S Narayan (T Sabh)
Besides,
Narayan Swami
And
Soom Nath Sumbli (S Sabh)
Azima, the boatman ferrying people from one bank to the other of the River Jehlum
Venue: 1.Kala Kendra Dramatic Club at Shiwala mandir Chota Bazar.
2. Rama Krishna Temple within the Shiwala Mandir premises
3. Sumbli Tea Stall Regal Chowk
4. Road from Regal Chowk to Neelam Chowk
5. kanyakadal Bridge
6. Habbakadal Bridge.
Except Swami the rest were the theatrical doyens of the Kala Kendra Dramatic Club at Shiwala Mandir, Chotta Bazar, Srinagar.

Rama Krishna Temple within the Shiwala Mandir premises
Early seventies. Sunday morning the entire summer world was bright and fresh and full of life. Cheerfulness was in every face. Summer green all around gave the valley look of a wonderland of joy-dreamy, restful, and inviting.
After hectic rehearsal, before retiring for their respective homes, as usual, D Sabh, Saraf Sabh and T Sabh called on Narayan Swami (Triple MA) the keeper of the Rama Krishna Temple in the premises of Shiwala Mandir. Usually the Swami used to refresh them with a cup of coffee, but on the day, he along with the routine cup of coffee, entertained them with a little sweet pudding they had never tasted before. They liked it. The Swami refused to give them more on health grounds. Little caring for their health, the three could not resist the temptation to have more. In the meantime, the Swami was going in and out intermittently to attend to his routine work. They seized an opportunity when the Swami remained out for a longer period. Took almost one kilogram of pudding from the tin container nearby, wrapped it into a few news papers and proceeded to share the booty with their fourth ‘kalakar’ S Sabh, who had started a part-time venture of a tea stall at Regal periphery.
By the time the three reached the tea stall, they had continually swallowed their saliva.
Sumbli Tea Stall Regal Chowk
Sumbli Sabh was delighted to see the untimely and unexpected visit of his friends. Exchanged pleasantries. The three revealed their venture and all the four finished the pudding to its last lick. Soon with double dose, the three Sabhs started to feel giddy.
Now they felt that the Swami had played some mischief with them. Instantly a resolution was passed in unison. As per the resolution, they were to go to the Swami and ask him for the ingredients of the pudding. But the million dollar question was how to go.
Soon a full-tonga was requisitioned from the Regal Chowk. Now the problem was how to mount the tonga. Again an instant meeting was held and finally it was decided to arrange for a steady ladder to ascend the tonga.
One of the Sabhs felt that his trousers were of its own coming down. He pulled his trousers up time and again that were maintaining status co. Their erratic actions bothered their well-wishers around. Before any scene could crop up to entertain passersby, they bundled the three on the tonga and directed the tongawalla to Neelam Chowk.
The tongawalla obliged Saraf Sabh and left him at Chota Bazaar Crossing, while the other two were helped by the tongawalla to alight from the tonga at Neelam road proceeding to Shivala Mandir. En route to Shivala mandir, they were to cross a small drain hardly six inches wide. They took it for the River Jhelum. Seeing no boat around, knowing well their inability to swim, they gave repeated calls to Azima to ferry them across the ‘river’. Somehow they reached Narayan Swamy. Surprised! He never expected that the little dose of pudding should aggravate their imbalance to such an extent. The two confessed their guilt and instantaneous herbal treatment saved them from permanent disability that could be caused by the excess dose of the ‘bangh’ pudding.

It was already dusk, Saraf Sabh was trying to cross over the railing of Kanyakadal Bridge. People around, fans of the handsome artist rushed and saved him from an attempt to suicide. They probed and learnt that Saraf Sabh had wrongly taken kanyakadal for Habbakadal and was trying to cross over to the pedestrian passage to escape any accident.
When pulled back, Saraf Sabh said: “Haya ye chuna Habhea Kadal,
Tela mai watnaviv Habhkadal tanie. Tetie peth ha gachea bhea panaie.” (Is it not Habbakadal? Kindly take me to Habbakadal. Therefrom, I shall go of my own)
Some of his fans escorted him up to Habbakadal Bridge. Walking slowly and steadily the pedestrian path on his left, he finally reached the other end of the path. Near the police beat, he continued to mark time (kadam tal- march without moving forward) for hours together. Realizing that walk of a few hours and still the signboard of kapoor Brothers was maintaining status co distance, exhausted, he finally preferred to make the police beat his rest house.
The last shopkeeper who closed his shop at 12 in the night was Mir Provision Store. He presumed that Saraf Sabh was doing some yogic and tantric exercise and preferred not to disturb him.
(I did not change the initials of Sarf Sabh, with his permission)