My First Bank.

In 1964 in mid summer when we shifted to Betma it was in development phase like rest of 600,000 other villages in the country. Its proximity to Indore, the largest city of Madhya Pradesh, kept it as modern as possible. There was no electricity, no telephone, no banks, no piped water and many other things that are indicative of progress and prosperity. Fortunately there was a Secondary school that had started as primary in 1915 and quickly moved on to become a high school even before independence. There was a post office also in Betma since a long time, I couldn't figure out when was that established but I think it was there since pre independence era. In those days post offices didn't have a separate staff and were managed by the school teachers alternating as Postmasters. In Betma it was the duty of Mr Anand Rao Joshi who was a primary school teacher, primarily. He was no relation of ours but being the same sub-section Brahmin belonging from Dewas he was know to my parents and we used to call me Mama. He was very humble and honest and did his duties diligently. He had three children all younger to us Prabha, Pratibha and one more. We didn't have much in common but sometimes when we visited them or they visited us, we met. Besides Mr Joshi there was a postman who was the only full time employee in the post office. He helped in taking the dak in a huge khaki tarpauline material waterproof bag to bus stand to load it in some designated bus/buses that went to Indore and Depalpur which being district and tehsil places respectively had bigger post offices that will collect mail from and send mail to Betma. He also delivered mail and money orders to people in the village. There was no telegraph office in Betma either with postoffice or standalone and postmaster went only in the afternoon for a couple of hours even then there was hardly any activity there. 

Our shifting to Betma was lucky for it, as within the same year the work for electricity connectivity began and in a year or so houses started getting electrified, our turn must have come in two years or even later. Around the same time when I was in the primary school studying in the, 5th in late 1965 or early 1966 we got our bank too. Telephone, however, took longer and an exchange that was placed in a premises that department of Post and Telegraph popularly called P&T rented in the house owned by Chandrakunwar's family who lived on one side of the exchange the other being occupied by a Jajoo family whose son Mahesh Jajoo was two year my senior in the school. They had a  big clothing shop in Poora Bazaar managed by his father and uncle Badri Seth. But Betma got telephone exchange between 1969 and 1970 and when that happened it was a bigger excitement than any other invention that patronised Betma. The first telephone connection was given to the Police Station and the honour of first private connection went to Harakchand Seth, unfortunately Jeevanram Seth his father, couldn't get the benefit of this in his life time. I am not sure if the technology used for the exchange was Strowger or Cross Bar but once when I managed to sneak in with someone, I was aghast with the huge machines making lot of noises so much that people couldn't talk there. With just 20 odd connections the relays were constantly making connections and getting disconnecting contributing to the noise level.

There may have been some 10 or 12 racks of large almirah size having lots of wires and up-down switches going here and there. Initially people couldn't make calls from home to anyone and phones just had a receiver (a mic and a speaker combined) but no dialer, as soon as you picked up the receiver it will ring in the exchange and an operator will come on line and ask you who you wish to speak to and connect. I think intially you could call only within Betma and it was more a thrill than a benefit as in the time that you got the connection you could run and talk to the intended person. In later years exchange started connecting out locations also and phones were replaced with a phone with dial. However, subscriber trunk dialing (STD) was introduced in the early eighties only. Speaking to people in Indore wouldn't take more than 5 minutes of connection time but calling someone in Bombay or other places you would have to book a trunk call that sometime will take couple of days to materialise. I will talk more about communication era later as there is a a lot and interesting stories out there. I wondered if people on either side of the exchange premises could sleep or rest properly after it was installed.

Mohan Lal Neema was a respected and pleasant person who studied in school with my father so they must be of same age. After schools my father passed Inter and became a teacher and Neemaji completed his graduation and became a politician. He was member of INC but didn't held any public office not was he ever got elected. But he always appeared busy so must be an important person in the party or because of his connections. I, however, don't know what he did for living. His house was in one end of Poora bazaar soon after which the hugely wide market became narrower. He also had three daughters, two older than me and one younger. Eldest one must be 5 year older than me and the middle one about 2 and the youngest one must have been 2 year younger. Middle daughter who was pretty good looking and petit girl studied with Damu and was a year ahead of me. She was the only one of the three with whom I had some conversations in the school. But in 1965-66, I had no interest or information about them as we were busy playing with our direct friends. Sometime in late 1965 and early 1966, I could see lot of activities in their house at the end of which I saw the shape of the house completely changed. Half the portion where they lived remained same but the other half was modernised with high sealing roof and an open large hall with some partitions. Some days later I saw a big board coming up there with "Bank of India"  written that also had their famous BOI Star logo. 

Not only  people who lived in Betma but people from neighborhood villages were also coming to Poora Bazaar curious and excited about this newest pride of Betma. Many people including me had no idea as to what a bank was and some others explained to them this is a government institution that will give you money at much lesser cost than what Seth Jeevanram offered and you can also keep your money with bank that will be safe ( with the government) . Some sahukars (moneylenders) also felt threatened. Mr Neema had made a permanent arrangement for a regular income by renting this part of the house.

The day of inagration was like a mela, the ribbon was cut by some VIP I think the district collector and everyone was feeling important being there on the first day. Biscuits, samosas and tea was kept out for everyone who walked past. And as a part of the inaugural function an essay competition was organised by Mr Punglia, BOI's branch manager. A tall fair and handsome Mr Punglia was all smiles with the trouble free inaugural function thus far. I was one of the school children who participated in the essay competition and went dressed in my best. I don't recall the topic of the essay but after we submitted our write-ups and judges went through them I was declared winner. Amongst applause I was given the certificate, a writing notebook, a nice plastic footscale with BOI logo engraved on it but the best was yet come and when the guest of honour gave me Rs 25 cash award I was on cloud 9 as I don't recollect if I had seen or touched so much money before. Till date I consider that as my first income that made me feel independent and worthy.

Mr Punglia then explained me about banking in some simple words and requested me to open a savings account in the bank. That I did and hence there started banking journey of my life as an eight year+. People who visited bank several years after its opening found my picture that decorated the walls amongst others as the first day bank customers.

 My love for BOI remained throuhout since and I still hold an account with them. 

Culturetenment in Betma - part 2

I wanted to give memories that took me back to Baby Indira's record action dances, some rest after putting them down to Google cloud, where once you deposit anything remains till iternity. But when I set out for a long drive over the weekend and switched on radio, it was playing 1966 songs on Vividbharti and that 45 minute long programme set me back to the stage where I left Baby Indira. The songs that I distinctly remember she used to dance on were being played on the radio sequentially a) titli udi, ud jo chali, phool me kaha.., b) suno sajana papihe ne..., c)  khat likh de sawaria ke naam babu..and d) phool ban jaunga shart ye he magar...besides hits of that year. That put a screen over  my windshield and I was watching Baby Indira again while on the wheels driving at a highway speed focusing eyes on the road and ears on the songs. What a coincidence!

But 1966 was not the only time she came to Betma and subsequent trips following years did nothing to take that charm away. I used to be as dumbfounded as when I saw her for the first time, as if under some spell. I remember this happening thrice while I was in Betma. Another incidence added to my attraction for her was entry of another set of dancers. Seeing the success of the troupe that Baby Indira was a part of, a competition also surfaced and another theatresade an entry thar had not one but two stars.. sisters Baby Suman and Baby Mangla. Their theatrics/plays were not so well received but since there were two dancers the whole 2 to 2 1/2 hour show consisted mostly dances what we called record actions and some skits instead of full plays. That also made them more competitive by employing lesser number of artists and other staff. But that apart, Baby Mangla was too young and may have been just about two or three year older than me and Baby Suman another 1 or 2 years. They both danced well but it was not the same. Their shows were houseful because they were entertaining and could dance on a much wider range of songs as on some songs they both danced together. Their troupe was stationed in the Police station premises and nearer to the bus stand that added number of "walking customers" some of them waiting for their buses, that they often missed. Well, the fun continued till I left Betma ..  now it was कभी ये और कभी वो kind of option.. that added two more feathers to my cap. Now I wonder with such preoccupation, how I topped the class year after year.

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When I entered 9th that was the first year of secondary school, we had to choose between science or arts unlike these days when you face that question after passing 10th. Although I fancied literature there was nothing that stopped me to choose  PCM that stands for Phisics, Chemistry and Maths with Hindi and Sankrit. I would have gone for biology instead of mathematics but that option didn't exist. It was too early for me to have a choice between engineering , medical or arts (humanities) but the general "impression" was that the first two streams were meant for people who were "better in studies". I had seen more doctors but not known any engineer besides one of my father's cousins so becoming a doctor was more fascinating but that dream got culled before it became a dream due to "option not available" sign. So that was the beginning of my engineering career before entering the engineering college. Once you have opted PCM in class 9th you are bound to dream to become an engineer as no one found the word scientist fascinating and people who were aware to the the educational system then, knew that after doing BSc or MSc what you become is a lab assistant or a science teacher in a school. There was no institution then that was known to produce Scientists. At least with the then limited knowledge me and my classmates had, said so. In my class I had Premchand Patidar a studious and hard working fellow who cycled from Methwada a small village some 14 Kms away. He was not the only one though who peddled so much even Naveen Shukla, another one of my new classmates paddled same distance everyday when he traveled from Ghatabillod to Betma. After spending a year in class 9th our friendship was all but obvious. Although I didn't consider Patidar a competition but he did. He had an edge over me in the eyes of Dr DP Mourya our maths teacher who had just submitted his dissertation for PhD and was hinting to join Holkar Science college in Indore once he is awarded the degree, that he later did but not before us passing 10th. At least that's what Patidar thought.

Sometime in the summer of 1970 when we had passed class 9th and were promoted to the 10th, Premchand's brother's marriage was fixed and all the PCM students were invited to attend that. Those were the days when marriages in friend's families or anyone known in the village didn't require any formal invitation as such. These festivities were open to everyone in the village especially when you have known the family one way or the other. I didn't have any transport to reach Methwada so I remember walking some distance on the main highway with another classmate before we requested a bullock cart to offer us a ride once the pabble or the mud road started.  On our way was a very small village called Ravad (रावद). After walking for about an hour in hot sun of May, I was thirsty, so went to a house and asked the lady who was busy putting a layer of cowdung over the elevated entrance of the house as was common to keep the house clean and disinfected, for a glass of water. She looked at me and asked कौन जात? ( Which cast). Innocently I said बामण (Brahmin) and before giving me a glass of water she almost touched my feet 🤔.

The bullock cart joy ride would have taken another 30-35 minutes to take us to Methwada. It was late afternoon. Festivities for marriages used to be a long affair then and we had reached just a day before the D-day. We had no plans to join the barat the following day that was to proceed to another village where bride's family lived. We got good reception from the family and something or other kept going at the couple of houses in the village where celebrations had started. I was not interested in those so just took a stroll in the village till the sun went down. Soon I saw a crowd gathering at one of the venues and made my way to that. Everyone was excited and I got to know that soon a nautch was going to begin. It was not a traditional nautch that I had seen in some movies or the record actions of Baby Indira, Baby Suman or Baby Mangla but more like the one that I had seen in haat bazaars performed by "women". Much later I got to know that they were third gender people and were called hijras ( or eunuchs). But the style was different and watching  closely I noticed that some womens were women and some others were women like the haat bazaar kind.. marriage guests called all of them nautch girls. They must have been of varying age from late teens to late forties and were dancing to the rhythm of a dholak and singing folk wedding songs, lyrics of some of which I found embarrassing. However, I noticed most villagers and relatives were ecstatic.. singing and dancing with those girls and "semi-girls". As it started getting dark the tempo of rhythm kept increasing. After a while I was hungry and dinner was served so I moved there with some friends. Even after dinner the dance "festival" was continuing and I noticed the guests who were dancing were totally drunk and kept falling instead of dancing. People were also showering  rupee notes on the girls and throwing in the air that the dholi was collecting. Slowly people started moving and so were girls but movement of some people looked suspicious as they were talking in whispers and holding hands of some women as they went away and vanished. Dances were still going but my friends and I decided to call it a day and when we went to one hall where some guests were sleeping. 

Much later I was educated on the happenings around. That was and perhaps still is a culture and is a way marriages are celebrated in villages. Next morning Patidar family gave us a send-off and my friends and I returned in the bullock cart that was arranged by Premchand for us to take back to Betma.

It was another first experience attending a wedding without my family and I felt more grown with this other kind of entertainment.

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Representative picture of nautch downloaded from Internet.

  

Culturetenment in Betma.

 Kusum was the name I was forgetting the other day, the sixth girl in my class that went missing and I was feeling frustrated and wondering how can whole girl go missing from my memory. She had an elder sister Vijaya one class ahead of us. Their father Dr Prakash Jain was an RMP and had his clinic in Poora Bazaar in Jhalara Kothi that had one passage in the middle and otherside as you might have predicted was the pharmacy owned by Dwarka's father but I noticed that's where Dwarka was always found when he was not in the school, assisting in business. He was in class 10th with Damu and Vijaya. The clinic had a little platform, must be about 4 feet wide that served as waiting room on one side and on the other one huge glass bottle was kept on a wooden stool that had a red concoction that was the master medicine for general ailments like cough. Dr Prakash Jain had a younger brother who had finished his graduation and was idling so he was asked to train himself up to assist. Pavan was a happy go lucky guy but didn't mind attending patients. He was also my cricket commentary listening buddy and we and some more cricket enthusiast would listen commentary at the clinic whenever Dr Prakash Jain was not at the clinic but even when he was and no patients around he didn't mind if any important match was going on.. he indeed was a kind hearted person most suitable to be a doctor. Pavan called me Chandrasekhar, who was the star off-break spinner of team India in the sixties and early seventies, one reason for naming me such was that I claimed to be an off spinner and the other I will tell later, that's another story. 

Adjacent to the clinic was another residential building that had no shop. The other side of that was the house of another friend Murali Soni who was also one class ahead of me but was a sport and with his cousins Gopal and Trilok Jajoo, who were respectively in 11th and 9th we often enjoyed playing the board games. Murali had two elder brothers and a younger sister  Radha but I am forgetting what his father did. Perhaps, he was a pawn broker like their neighbors on the other side Seth Jeevanram. Seth Jeevanram was like Nagar Seth of Betma. Very rich and a strictly miser who lived like a poor peasant to hide his wealth. Seth Jeevanram was a widower and childless and once he unsuccessfully adopted an heir as was common amongst Marwari people but didn't like him as that guy appeared spendthrift, careless and irresponsible so he was "de-adopted" and in his place Harakchand was adopted. Harakchand was petit and fair looking young man must have been in his early twenties. Usually, such adaption would happen from some relative or other, so Harakchand must have been some blood relation. Seth Jeevanram and his ancestors were known for exploiting hapless farmers who would come to him under duress to borrow money by mortgaging their land and/or gold/silver jewelry for a failed crop or for children's wedding. Within a year or so Hukumchand proved that he was a worthy heir to continue the tradition. Long before his arrival in Betma, on one weekly haat/bazaar day some gangsters (who must have taken to this profession after such exploitation) came to Seth Jeevanram's shop pretending to be clients for borrowing money and when Seth went inside to get something, warning shots got fired and he and his servants were overpowered, they took away whatever was within their sight but that must have been a fraction of his wealth. Some of these armed decoits were guarding the place and the market had immediately emptied out completely when they had heard the first shot. In a matter of 10 minutes everything was over and before cops could decoits vanished. Police station was not very far and seeing people fleeing from the market cops must have known about this event but they surfaced only when the "show" was over for their own safety. More from the fear of losing a lot of money than any other shock, Seth Jeevanram fell unconscious. This incident that had happened a couple of years before we moved to Betma and was told me by my father long ago and by several other people after we moved.

Between Dr Prakash Jain's clinic and Murali's house was another building that was unoccupied for several years after we moved but got rented in 1969, when I moved to class 9, to one Dr Shukla, MBBS who got transferred to Betma as in-charge of the civil dispensary. Dr Shukla must be in his late forties and had three daughters oldest of them Shobha didi, must have graduated by then, middle one was college going and the youngest one in class 10th then. A new comer in Betma and in the school she had sensationalised the place with her intelligence beauty. So much so that before she left for school and till she reached home idlers would be queueing up is some corner in Poora Bazaar to have a glance. I don't recollect their names but like Kusum's name bounced in my mind this will also come sometime later. Years later in mid eighties when I worked with Tandon Corporation in SEEPZ, Bombay someone had informed me about Shobha Didi who lived in neighborhood and asked me to meet her. I was meeting her almost 13-14 years after I had left Betma and it is now another 35 years since I last saw her and have neve known their whereabouts. Around this time Dr Khadaite had established him own practice and perhaps had quit his government job. Mrs and Dr Khadaite were lovely couple and well to do and Mrs Khadaite (my maasi) loved me a lot, as maasis do. They had four children a boy Satish followed by three daughters Usha, Nisha and Sandhya. Satish was two year ahead of me in school and girls were much younger (3 to 6 years in that order). I wondered if doctors had a boon of having daughters than sons as besides Satish the three doctors in Betma had 8 daughters between them.

Dr Jain's house was the end of Poora Bazaar and there was an empty government plot that was used for recreational activities. There was a 30 feet wide opening to this a the row of residences on one side of the road ended short this ground and the last house was that of Ramu another classmate since my 4th standard who got dropped out after the 8th. He must have been 16 then and had started working initially as a tempo cleaner and later became a driver ferrying passengers from Betma to Indore. He had to do this as he lost his father and there had no option. The plot would turn into centre of the village whenever there was any festivity. Ramlila was the most prominent of those as three day before the navratri and two days after Dashhara the place would be buzzing with activities. Usually there was a visiting troupe of professional Ramlila performers who would stage this ticketed event. Booing and clapping was constant depending on the characters on the stage. In those days it was not common to find female artists so everyone on the stage was a male artist performing roles of all ramayana characters. The prettiest of the male artist would be playing the role of Sita and whenever she would step on the stage audience would bow for her. The show would start with a puja and aarti and end with the same the only difference is that in the end one of the characters would carry a donation box and ask everyone to contribute and collect as much as the ticket money would be as some generous and religious people would offer as much as a rupee or sometime Rs 2.

The funniest part of the Ramlila would be when a regular artist would not show up and a standby would require continuous prompt and often audience could hear him shout to the prompter ऊँचा बोल ( say loudly) and he still would not comprehend so the prompter himself will say the dialogue reading from the script and would go backstage annoyed.

On the same ground with audience facing the other side (if one was the Ambani end other would be Adani end of Narendra Modi stadium) once a year or sometimes more frequently there would be a dance drama troupe stationed there for a month. Usually this would be soon after Ramlila as that was the best time of the year weather wise. If the tickets for Ramlila were Paise 10 to Paise 50, here the tickets would be from Paise 25 to Re 1.00. They would some play and in the two or three intermissions there would be 15-20 minutes record action each. So the whole show would take some two and a half hour. These will be more entertainment than any literary activities. So the typical plays would be Harishchand-Taramati, or Sultana Daaku or Putli bai or some locally scripted plays like "andhe ki laathi" etc. rather than Kalidasa's Meghdoot  or Mohan Rakesh's Aadhe Adhoore. This was the place for people to relax and get entrained that I just thought of defining as CULTURTAINED than to have anything that would be thought provoking. Majority of people would go out for a smoke during the play but would be back during the intermission to watch the dances that I won't say provocative but definitely attractive.

The dancing girl Baby Indira must have been 6 or 8 year older than me and in her full bloom when I first saw her in 1966 or a year later when I was a 9 year old. I am not sure if this was her first trip to Betma but that was the first time I saw her. I was ushered in the theatre by a friend as I don't think I had money to see the play. That day when play started like others I also laughed at the jokes that were said by an entertainer when artists would go for change of dresses. Soon it was time for "Intermission" and record action and I heard " jhumka gira re Bareilly ke bazaar men" blaring over the sound system and baby Indira made her entry from the left side of the stage dressed in a flared pink coloured beautiful dress. Even at that young age I was spellbound and couldn't take my eyes of that beautiful dancer and with wide eyed said "wow". The dance must have gone on for 5 minutes but even after 50 years that scene is engrained. I wonder if I bothered to listened to the song, I was simply glued and looked her. During the two or three breaks that night there there would have been 5 or 6 numbers when Baby Indira may have danced. She made me forget even the name of the play and I returned home starry eyed that night. Those were the days when parents won't question or raise their voice even if you didn't come back, assuming I may have stayed with a friend for the night.

During rest of the troupe's stay I may have gone twice again and had the same " attack" as the first time. Couldn't go more often as that would have raised some suspicion here and there. Once during the day I went to the theatre, there was no gate or ticket and found Baby Indira flying a kite, I went near her with a curious look hoping she will burst into a song and dance for me...

Picture of Sadhna performing on "jhmka gira re" from film Mera Saaya. downloaded from Internet.

Bravehearted Sheru Chacha.

Sher Khan had an awe-inspiring personality like Amarsingh Pehlwan. Both had been wrestlers in their own right but they never fought in any competition against each other. Usually in wrestling competitions in Betma and in the nearby towns the contestants would not be from the same village or town. I think Sher Khan whom we all lovingly called Sheru Chacha was slightly older than Amarsingh Pehlwan and both were champions in different times and by the time we shifted to Betma and I started going to the akhara, Sheru Chacha was a veteran and had given up competitive sports. 

The rented house that we lived was built between two streets and was very long and narrow. It must have been about 18 feet wide and some 150 feet long. The house front was opening to Poora Bazaar, the market side that was lined with various kinds of shops. There was a grocery and general store in about 12-14 feet width that was some 20 feet deep and we had a small passage leading inside to our house that was built on two stories. A large part of the plot was open where Shyama (cow) and her young ones lived besides a set of toilets towards the end and a small exit gate. When the cow family went out for grazing one could play cricket or football in that space. Either side had walls separating houses. On one side we had a Khandelwal family and on the other Totla family. Both business families. One was engaged in grain business and had a small grocery and other one had a cloth store. Both were joint families with some 8 to 10 occupants. A couple of years after we moved, Vallabh Sarda who owned the grocery bought the house and shut our entry and extended his shop much to our dislike and discomfort. I was very loud in expressing my emotions to Giridhar his elder son who was a year junior to me in the school, he empathised with us but was too young to say anything to his grandpa, father or uncle who ran that business. Only concession we got was that when the shop was open we were allowed to pass through it to the house. But only we kids used that route and our parents and grandpa rarely used that path to leave house and used only the back exit door.

Exit door that became our main entry now opened to a street that had only residential houses and no shops so it was very quiet as compared to the other side. And most traffic that passed through it during mornings and evenings was that of cattle whom their owners took out for grazing to forested area outside the village. 

This was called Gavli mohalla, the name indicates that most people who lived there were cattle owners and dealt in milk supply occupation. Just behind Gavli mohalla was Katkatpura where some Muslim families lived. The name of the mohalla perhaps indicated their choice of  food they liked/preferred. There lived Sher Khan aka Sheru Chacha whose house had a long and high platform before the living quarters where they tied some half a dozen goats, unlike cattle, goats didn't go far off and used to roam around in neighborhood and graze on the grass on the empty plots with green patches. I used to get fascinated watching milk goat who would hardly give half a litre milk or less compared to Shyama who gave nearly 2 litres every morning and evening. But I think in our house we left much of it for calves. I also had tamed Shyama and would sometime milk her without her creating any commotion.

Sheru Chacha was a very affectionate person. He worked as a truck driver and in his free time he would often be found at Damu's "Murli Tea Stall" at bus stand where one could find him sharing his road journey anecdotes that people listened with a lot of interest. He must have been in his early thirties, tall, well built and handsome to have a lasting anmd positive impression on us, especially with stories that he shared that sometimes I heard but often been retold by Damu or Ghamu da. A couple of years later he got an employment with a Taxi owner and would take passengers out locations near and far from his base location that was Indore, in his owner's white ambassador car. A couple of years later, I think it was the year 1970 , one day a couple came to him in the evening and engaged him for a trip to Bombay, he was more than happy as such long trips were not common ( Bombay is 600 Kms from Indore). They set out for a 12 hour long journey at 7.00pm from Indore. Some three hours in the journey when they would have reached near Sendhwa some 150 Kms, the passenger told him to take a short break and they stopped by the curb side. At that hour of night there was hardly any traffic on the otherwise a busy highway NH3. After relieving himself the guy told Sheru Chacha that he wants to take something from the boot and asked him to open it. As Sheru Chacha got down and opened the boot, he was attacked by a sharp and long knife that cut through his stomach and intestines, guy attacked him a number of times and rotated the knife inside his stomach. All this happened so unexpectedly that even a strong person like Sheru Chacha could do nothing and bleeding profusely he fell down. Both passengers then pulled him and threw in the bushes taking him for dead, cleaned themselves and fled in the car towards Bombay. But Sheru Chacha the strong and courageous man was not dead, bleeding had left him weak so he couldn't fight back. Soon after the carjacking, he could move his limbs and managed to pull out a long piece of cloth that he had over his neck and tied rightly over his stomach that slowed down the blood from oozing out and he struggled hard to come to the road and with all the strength that he had, he stood up and waved at a passing bus that didn't stop, after not being lucky with two buses the third bus driver stopped and Chacha was taken to the nearby hospital some 20-25 Kms away, not everyone is callous, there are people who care. Chacha became unconscious when he reached hospital and it was only the next morning that he opened his eyes. The treatment had saved his life and he was now out of danger. After completing the formalities he was discharged from that small hospital and taken for proper treatment to Indore by cops. He retuned to Betma after a month, weak and frail but sound enough to tell his story to people. His strength and presence of mind had saved his life. 

In Bombay, the car and the carjacking murderous couple were apprehended when they couldn't give satisfactory answers to some cops who were on a road-check and got arrested. 

This news appeared in local newspapers that came to the notice of Hira Bhai, who is native of Betma where his brother Kachru was running a savory shop. Kachru Bhai's shop was the second building when you entered Betma from the highway. The entire shop used to be on the road and would occupy some 10 feet of the road. Being very close to school I used to but गुड़ की सेंव from him whenever I had some 5 or10 Paise on me. His shop had become famous for this particular item. Sometime my friend,  classmate and Kachru's nephew Prakash would get it for free and share.. that used to be a treat. 

Through Hira Bhai the news that the stolen car was found in Bombay reached Betma and Sheru Chacha was called for identification of the culprits. By then Bombay police had got the information about the murderous attack on Sheru Chacha and their third degree treatment to the couple had revealed that Sheru Chacha was their 22nd victim and none of the precious victims survived. On arrival to police station in Bombay Sheru Chacha had no problem identifying the murderous car thieves. I am not sure on the court proceedings and judgement in the case but to the best of my knowledge convicts were not sent to the gallows.

This is the true story of Betma's brave heart Sheru Chacha (as best as my memory tells me) whom we all loved even more after his brave fight and survival. He could never recover completely and didn't do any physically strenuous work for rest of his life. I learnt later that he died peacefully in 2019 in his early eighties.

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Representative pictures downloaded from Internet.

 

कौंच की फली (Mucuna pruriencs beans)

It was 1969 when I got promoted to 9th standard after securing first division in the 8th standard and a distinction in Sanskrit that secured me a three year scholarship, that I talked about earlier. I was almost 12 and still not reached the adolescent age as per the norms prevalent in the late sixties when people used to put that age as 13.  Nevertheless, there was a big change in my class structure and it was now a co-ed class as the all girls school in Betma was only a middle school. So suddenly I found six girls in my class. They were all older by at least two years and oldest one must have been five year older. There were many other new boys who were admitted from middle schools of neighborhood villages. So the entire mix of the class changed from class 8th to class 9th and I found it quite exciting and noticed the changes in my own social behavior, felt rather grown up. Till then I had ignored girls who were either friends' sisters or sister's friends who sometimes would play board-games like "Trade/ Business" or " तुम बनो भारत के बड़े व्यापारी", in which girls didn't have any interest, and sometimes outdoor games like pitthu aka sitolia. But often times some of us would play some balancing girlie games like "paanche/पांचे" in which I would be as good as them. But as a grown up (now in 9th) I lost interest in games like paache . This interest in my new classmates was more of a curiosity than anything else at that time. But soon I discovered that "I had come of age". 

I was considered ( and actually was, believe me) a decent and studious boy and these girls used to treat me like a kid and some of whom could confide in me, it was also convenient to them since very often they would borrow my class notes that I diligently took with no absenteeism in the school. Except Gend Kunwar other girls were quite average or even below average, I suppose they were not interested in any academic activities and were waiting to get married. They would regularly require some coaching and also my class notes. One of them Shanta Khandelwal was my rakhee sister. Her mother tied rakhee to my father for some 6 decades and their relationship was so thick that my father was her favourite brother till she died some two decades back. Even until last year her son would send rakhee and mithai to my father on that festival. Her son also performed some ceremonies upon my father's demise last month (Jan 2021), that were ritualistic and are performed by sister's family. I think Khandelwal rakhee sisters came to my genes and some 40 years back I found another sister Madhu Didi although she is not so regular with sending rakhee our relationship is very deep, not just between two of us but with the family on either side. 

In the school besides academic activities I was also assigned a task by my teachers to write a welcome message for everyone when they arrive at school. So one blackboard was put up right at school entrance and I would come to school 15-20 minutes earlier than everyone and a peon will bring me a chalk, duster and a stool, mounting on which I will be able to reach the height of the blackboard and would write "Quote of the day" or आज के विचार and आज के समाचार/Today's headlines. Since we used to get नईदुनिया the most popular Hindi newspaper at home I would select one headline of the day and also find a relevant and inspiring quote on my own and would write them on the board.

If I recollect other names of girls in the class besides this sister there were Chandra Kunwar, Gend Kunwar, Padma and another Shanta. I don't know if that was all or there was one more name I don't recollect. Some of the older boys in the class were real rowdy and would often make some trouble or other just to get girls' attention. I think the most notorious amongst them were Harpal Singh, a tall well built boy who was with me since class 4 and his cousin who had joined us in class 9th. They hardly had any interest in the academic activities especially in attending the class and would always be up to some mischief or other and catcalling in the class and after the school till girls reached their homes.

Gend Kunwar's father Kavi Girivar Singh Bhanwar was a popular Hindi poet and was a famous poet in Hindi speaking belt. He had a very deep and husky voice very suitable for reciting poetry at Kavi sammelans. His voice would add gallantry, valor, heroism and chivalry to poems he recited . After the 1965 war with Pakistan, his poems moved up the popularity charts. One of his poems that he often recited, even today fills me with "josh" and emotions.. it goes like : 

कि, मुश्किलें हज़ार है, 

मुश्किलें हज़ार हैं,

हम भी कोई कम नही,

मुश्किलो के शीश को, हम कफन चढ़ाएंगे

कि आफतें हज़ार हैं...

I often recite it when I am feeling low and get inspired to defeat the situation with these lines.

Because of his poet friends we often used to have Kavi sammelans (public poetry congregations) in Betma where Hindi kavi (poets) like Bal Kavi Bairagi and Satyanarayan Sattan ( both of them later took to politics due to this popular platform) and some Malwi Kavis like Bhavsaar ba and Ramesh Chatak would keep audience spellbound through the night ( in those days public functions like Kavi Sammelans, Mushairaas and Qawalis would happen in nights only).  Ramesh Chatak was a local find whom Bhanwarji groomed and he was also in the big league later. Somehow, I have no recollection of another famous poet/shayar Rahat Indori from that time.

Harpal Singh and his backbencher friends would always be up to some tricks. These boys (and I am sure senior students with such "qualities") had discovered that if you touch a particular type of beans (कौंच की फली) that had some fibrous substance, it spreads itching over your body like fire and you would immediately get into vigorous dancing and scratch yourself till blood starts oozing and the only remedy to curtail it is to take immediate bath applying fresh cow dung on your body. These beans could be easily found in the forest or wooded area outside the village or sometimes even within. One needs to know of such plants and stay away for the fear of such "bites". These plants also have some medicinal properties hence they are not culled altogether.

One day to tease the girls in the class this rowdy gang came early to class and had spread that fibrous substance on the tables that girls would usually occupy, in the front row. It was my bad or good that that day I was early in the class and took the place in the front row. As soon as I put my hands down I got up and started dancing as if I had come to a kathak dance class, a minute or two later the whole class as well as our teacher arrived and everyone could figure out what the matter was. I was rushed home and girls got saved from the tragedy of dancing and rushing home to a cow dung bath.

In the process I became a hero and their saviour. Later when their parents got to know of this, besides complaining to teachers and to the Principal they walked up to me and profusely thanked for my "chivalry".

I instantly became a favourite not just with these girls but also with their parents.

Picture courtesy: Wikipedia.

Learning English language.

I must have been in class 6 in the Middle school section of Govt Higher Secondary School , Betma when I got fascinated with English as a language but the entire echo system around me neither encouraged nor provided any machinery to learn. There was no compulsion either to learn the language. I was interested in sports like Hockey, Cricket and Football but for all these, specially the first two the radio also had started giving running commentaries of important national and international events in Hindi. Thanks to Jasdev Singh for Hockey Commentary and Indore's own Sushil Doshi for Cricket's live commentaries that the only radio station Akashwani Indore was giving commentaries largely in Hindi. 1968 Mexio city Olympics must have been my first event when I was glued to radio, in a neighbour's house since we didn't have a radio at home, listening to Jasdev Singh and was getting excited with every match and with win until the semi final when India for defeated for the 2nd time since 1928 and secured only 3rd position. At the same time Sushil Doshi (later my Alma mater) mesmerised with the first ever Hindi commentary of a three day match (not a test) between India and NZ from Nehru Stadium, Indore. A promising young  Gundappa Vishwanath was playing Chandu Borde led India Board's eleven for the first time in Oct 1969 and had an impressive performance that led to his selection for India 11 a month later in the 2nd test against Australia in Kanpur in which he created a history by scoring a duck in the first and a 137 in the second innings. I remember how people at green park Kanpur got agitated and threw matkas in the field targeting vishy when he got out for a duck. Both these commentators were the best in their class to create a live match in front of you giving an account of every pass or every ball. 

So listening English for those matches was ruled out. I think by then the only word I had learnt speaking was YES. I remember having said that to someone watching us play a desi game in Poora Bazaar when he asked me in Hindi तेरा प्वॉइंट था क्या? ( Was it your point?)

English was always the most spoken language in the world. I am not sure if the statistic back in 1967-68 but I suppose in terms of percentage it must have been the same as it is today. When you look at 2019 statistics you find that English is spoken 50% nations of the world and nearly 15% of world's population speak the language that is marginally ahead of Chinese in terms of people who speak the language but that is because in China that is the most populous country in the world hardly any other language is spoken other that Chinese. But there are only five countries in the world where significant population speaks Chinese.

So the advantages of speaking English as first or second language were obvious for nations and for their people not just in terms of abundant information and knowledge that is available in English but also to expand business opportunities individually and collectively as a nation.

Knowing English had always had an advantage in India since past 300 years initially for trading with English speaking countries and later when the colonised us to communicate and put the local views forward to their masters who ruled us for nearly 200 years if not more. British did commit unpardonable atrocities on us and it was necessary to remember that only as a part of history, moving on in life for India was more important than to hate British because world has changed and continued to change. Dominance of English in life was not to be ignored anyway for the development of individuals as well as that of the nation. We already had a large number of English speaking people and it was one language that was common across the country although not spoken by masses at the time of independence of the country. But gradually that number was increasing and it had become the language for conducting business across the country and internationally. By no means, in my opinion, a language makes you slave or continues to have dominance of British over an independent nation. Had that been the case America would have developed an indigenous language different from English. Advantage of learning English language ( any language for that matter) are galore and we can go on and on in its favour.

However, during 1968-69  when I was in class 8th the right wing politicians started a campaign in the entire country against English under the banner "angrezi hatao/अंग्रेज़ी हटाओ" similar to Gandhi's Quit India movement in 1942 for English (people)to go. Some politicians, intellectuals and philosophers who advocated for the campaign were of the opinion that using English was a sign of slave mentality and thereby a hindrance to India's growth. Philosophically, people subscribing to this have not vanished as yet.. they believing hating English is same as hating English.. fisrt is the language and second being people who ruled us. It was an everyday event for over a year when these people, whose themselves had no brains to think and whose brains were corrupted by some politicians driving this movement to score a point, resorted to blackening anything written in English on signboards, busses or wherever. They also confiscated newspapers and books written in English and burnt them in the bazaars. It was such a terror that no one could dare speak or read anything in English even in privacy. Given this, it was obvious that the English language as an option was removed from high school so when I went to class 9th, I had no option to learn the language. My father had little knowledge of the language and he was not against learning the same but he could do little to help. My mother studied only till primary before her marriage at the age of 13+ and had done an equivalent of BA in Sanskrit from Bharti Vidya Bhavan practically self learning. So her teaching us English was also out of question. She also encouraged and taught Sanskrit to all of us and we all managed to pass short of the BA equivalent before we cleared our high school exams. I remember travelling to Kanvan, another village where my father was a teacher before we shifted to Betma, for appearing in those exams as that was our centre. Excelling in Sanskrit that time awarded me with a Sanskrit scholarship of Rs 250 per year in high school and that was big money that would take care of not just my school expenses but also all other money spent on me in a year. Although I was not in control of spending money, on my suggestions a smart ladies Henri Sandoz (a popular Swiss brand) watch was bought for my mother that stayed with her for many decades. HMT the popular Indian watch was either not around or had a queue of many years that time. 

I didn't know this is going to be a big disaster for me and my contemporaries who had faced this agitation. But all agitations fizzle out with time either with or without achieving the objective .. good or bad. In July 1970 when I entered class 10, the agitation had slowed down considerably at least the fizz had gone and when I opted English as an optional language, given the history of precious two years and my own zero knowledge of the language, I found that I was the only student opting for it and was assigned a teacher who in my opinion either not conversant or not interested in or was a sympathiser of the agitation. He reluctantly started with teaching me alphabets a,b,c,d...in so disinterested in the whole affair that he will simply ask me to write alphabets and go out for a smoke. This went on for a couple of months after which he stopped taking classes. 

You could understand my enthusiasm and disappointed at the same time. I didn't have enough courage to reach out to our new Principal Mr Aaraa Pandit (actually his name was Anand Rao Pandit, but he used to sign in Hindi as आ रा पंडित) who succeeded Mr Sabnis a year before. He was very approachable and good natured but that didn't encourage me to speak to him. 

Finally, in April we had the 10th board exams and for English, I was the only candidate. The exm paper was obviously in English and the only thing I understood from the exam paper was one question that said "write an essay on Jawaharlal Nehru, our first Prime Minister" that carried 20 marks. I kept looking at the question paper to make a meaning of other questions but failed. When I started writing the essay and barely had written 8 or 10 lines about JLN in my grand English, I thought to write more and to answer I need some support. I never shared to cheat and requested the invigilator if I could refer to the text book that I had kept outside the exam hall, he sternly brushed aside my request resulting in my declaring " I finished, sir" and handed over the answersheet to him so that he could also call it a day and may thank me for that.

When the results came I was happy that for writing those 10 lines or less I for 12 marks out of 100.. I don't remember what I wrote but I suppose these marks showed my love for Nehru and his blessings.

So that is the story of my learning English. I still suffer from the lack of formally learning the language. But for my approaching friends and anyone who knew the language well especially my friend Mahesh Tambe who came to was my roommate for over 4 years and my wife whom I could ask for corrections in spellings and grammatical mistakes anytime and anywhere over the last nearly 35 years, I wouldn't have been writing these stories in the language that would have remained alien to me, or is it still so? 

You decide.

Picture courtesy OLX.

If I were a Principal.

Dumbel PT was very exciting and I would do it dexterously for which I was chosen to lead the PT in the school every morning along with a couple of other students who would take my place as standby if I didn't come to school. Not just dumbels but even the other forms of PT, I will lead that would include the PT in standing and sitting postures. So the lead student would be mounted on a sturdy table in the front row and sometimes on the dais that was a small multi-purpose platform that would be used every day for school assembly for prayers and on special occasions for addressing the congregation as well as to stage plays and other school functions. I was always the youngest in my class from kachchi pehli ( KG equivalent) till the end of my engineering degree. From KG till 3rd standard, 4 classes I finished in 3 years. In the sixties there was a provision that if you perform well in the class you are given an option to appear for exams of the next class and should you clear that, you get promoted not just one class but two classes in one go. When I started in kachchi pehli (one class before class 1) then too my fellow students were older but after the "double promotion" when I cleared both class 2 and 3 in one year, everyone in the class was on an average two year older than me.

 

Most often I was a favourite student of teachers as I was obedient, I think so. Perhaps that's why in the middle school classes (6th through 8th) I got the chance to lead PT. Everyone used to call Dumb Bells "dumbel" and I never knew until many decades later that it is dumb bell and not dumbel and realised it is an English word and not a Hindi one. After passing out from school no one talked about dumbels and the next time I saw them was in a Talwalkar’s gym in Bombay during Asian games in 1982 when there was a frenzy in sports activities. The PT drills got so engrained in me that even today I know all those sequences एक दो तीन चार, पांच छः सात आठ, आठ सात छः पांच, चार तीन बदली कर (one two three four, five six seven eight, eight seven six five, four three change to the next).

 

When I went to class six the school changed from primary to middle. Middle and Secondary both were in the same premises with different class rooms and different staff rooms for teachers. In the middle school we were not taught home science or science but instead we had horticulture (बागवानी). So the subjects were Hindi, Sanskrit, Maths, Social Sciences and Bagwani.  Mr Sabnis was our Principal for the entire school, he was a very handsome, tall man and a strict administrator. I always looked at him in awe whenever I saw him and although his younger son was in my class and I never managed enough courage to go up to him and meet him beyond saying "namaste sir" when I saw him in the premises. His elder son Vipin was in the last year of school when I was in sixth and I used to admire and fancy him as he too was equally tall and handsome and would play cricket with us even after he passed out from school. As every student, I too was fond of cricket and always loved to bowl as a left-hand off-break spinner. I used to manage to spin the "leather" ball on the soft mud pitch that we used to curate ourselves. Now, I shudder to think of the danger the leather ball posed without any safety gear. I always used to wait to bowl Vipin bhaiyya but never managed to take his wicket. The game of cricket continued until I graduated from the high school.

 

The same year my father was transferred to another village on the other side of Sanawda called Badi Billod aka Kali Billod that had pucca approach road. My father also saved up some money and bought a bicycle to save on time as Kali Billod was more distant than Sanawda, about 5 kilometres from home and walking would have taken much of his day. It was a Raleigh, a new shining bicycle that we were not allowed to fiddle with since we didn't know how to ride that’s because we were not tall enough. But I was so impressed with the cycle from this British company that when I got admitted to engineering college many years later and bought my first bicycle that was also Raleigh. Unlike the one for which father paid some Rs 75 six years earlier, I paid Rs 192 for mine out of my own, my scholarship money.

 

But there was an excitement to ride a bicycle. I think I was in class 7th when one day I decided that I will ride a bicycle. I had done that a couple of times earlier with Damu and managed to balance it well. Since I was not tall enough to get over the bike, I used to ride it what we called a kenchi (scissor) style. It was very common those days for kids who didn't reach to the height of the seat. In kenchi, you would put one foot on ground and take the other on the peddle of opposite side and by giving a push through the paddle you will bring the cycle in motion and paddle only half and half while balancing the cycle, both your feet are still well below the front bar where at times a passenger would sit. When you become expert but still not tall enough, you would paddle full circle rather than half and half. So that day I sneaked out of the class on some pretext and picked up a bicycle from the cycle stand, I didn't know whose cycle that was and rode that home that was less than half a kilometre. I had nothing waiting at home so I simply drank a glass of water, there was no one home so no questions asked. While I was returning back to school at the main cross road that was the highway connecting Indore to Ahmedabad, it was an upward steep slope and my kenchi style could not give enough thrust and just when I reached the road, I couldn't balance and fell down, my head hit the road and I passed out for a couple of minutes when I came to my senses I noticed a couple of buses had already passed and had steered away from me. I got up little shaky and walked to school with the cycle, I had no clue what I was doing but managed to put the cycle back to where I had picked up and went to my class that had just started. There was blood on my collar and someone noticed and told the teacher who promptly sent me to Dr Khadaite's home and I was given dressings both physical and otherwise since Mrs Khadaite was like my aunt, my mother's classmate-sister who went together to the silai-school. Somehow I thanked my stars that it didn't get flared up or was it, I don't remember that.

We used to call our school’s annual functions "gatherings" and that was the best time of the year in the school although I never took part in any cultural events, which were the best part besides the feasts that were an everyday occurrence for all the three days. Every evening there used to be cultural events and during the day there would be sports competition. The sweets for the feasts would come from Indore and from each of the high school class a select few students would travel to Indore with a teacher and bring lots of sweets depending on the contributory collection. In the middle school we considered this very privileged activity since we were not allowed to go to Indore for this and this was restricted to high school classes only. I think in the 9^th standard I got my chance when I too went to Indore and to Sarafa Bazaar where Sweet shops were concentrated, with a teacher and a couple of my classmates. Out teacher had some social visit and we decided to take a break and went to Alka Talkies near Jail Road to see a Biswajit- Babita-Helen starter film "Kismat" and I still remember the song "kajra mohabbat wala.." in which Biswajit was dressed as a woman to hide from cops or someone. This was perhaps the first occasion for me to watch a movie in a big hall on my own besides some movies that I saw in Dewas in Mahesh Talkies or Nagar-niwas talkies during summer vacation with family. Oh yes, there was one more occasion when we had gone to Indore to our Bua's place when I was 9 or so and sneaked out on my own and went to Neelkamal talkies in Nandanagar area without telling anyone. The movie running inside the hall was Rajesh Khanna starter Aakhri khat. I had no money to buy ticket and stood there in front of the entry gate for a long time, may be 10 or 15 minutes when a gatekeeper asked if I want to see the movie, he knew I would love it since it was a story of a small child played by Master Bunty who was too small and had disappeared and the movie revolved around that event. I was only too happy to see the movie and when I got back home, no one even noticed that I was missing for over 3 hours.

Record-action, as the name suggests are the dances performed on stage when a song is played in the background. Unlike current days when you play a song over Spotify or YouTube, back then you had a gramophone record player that will play the choice of your song over a poly-vinyl record connected to an amplifier system. They were itemised songs unlike the item songs these days. Students would practice them for weeks before they put up the show. Since there was no access to the real dance in the movie, the choreography would be done by someone who has seen the movie or often times by watching the performances of some other troupe that occasionally put up shows in Betma, where an artist has performed/danced on the song. The songs that were quite popular and performed year after year were like "jhumka gira re, Bareilly ke bazaar men" and “Paan khae saiyaan humaare".. there would be some comic skits and parodies too that would make people laugh heartily, like the one that Damu created and that still tickles me to this day. " Tumane kisi ki bhens (buffalo) ko jaate hue dekha hai, woh dekho mujhase ruth kar mera paada ( a buffalo calf) ja raha hai”. The original song being: tumane kisi ki jaan ko Jaate huye dekhaa hai, Wo dekho mujhse roothkar, Meri jaan jaa rahi hai".

One day there was an extempore speech competition and I got the chit " if, I were a Principal".. I came on mic and started with this…

“If I were a principal, I would remove the attendance register and I will allow everyone to do what they want to. I will tell teachers to distribute sweets in the classroom and I will debar teachers to punish students and so on and on forth for about 10-12 minutes and everyone had a hearty laugh and I won the competition, thanks to jury who loved my sense of humour.

---------

Representative picture of PT exercises with dumb bells taken from Internet.

ज़िन्दगी एक ख्वाब की

ज़िन्दगी एक ख्वाब की

--

एवरेस्ट चढ़ूं 

ये मेरी ख्वाइश नहीं

ना ही आसमां की ऊंचाई

छूना, या

सागर की असीम गहराइयों को पाना

मेरा अपना एक एवरेस्ट है

मेरा अपना एक सागर है

मेरा अपना एक आसमां है

ये सब कभी उनसे ऊंचे

और कभी गहरे हो जाते हैं

बस उन्ही ऊंचाइयों में

उन्ही गहराइयों में

मैं अपने ख्वाबों को और 

जीवन की ख्वाइशों को पा लेता हूं।

नाप लेता हूं धरती से गगन और

सतह से अथाह सागर 

ख्वाबों में जीना मेरी 

आदत सी हो गयी है

ख्वाबों से लड़ना मेरी

आदत सी हो गयी है।

प्रदीप/फरवरी १६, २०२१

ख्वाब..

ख्वाबों के ख्वाब

क्या किसीने कभी ख्वाब देखने का

ख्वाब देखा है?

जब ख्वाब ही अपने नहीं होते हैं

तो ख्वाबों के ख्वाब कैसे अपने होंगे

बेहतर हो कि ना कोई ख्वाब देखें 

ना ख्वाबों के ख्वाब

ताकि ना आप रुसवा हों 

और ना ही आपके ख्वाब।

पर ख्वाब क्या सच्चाई से परे होते है?

अगर नहीं तो फिर आओ 

ख्वाब देखें और उन्हें 

सच्चाई में तब्दील करें।

प्रदीप/फरवरी १५, २०२१.

Touring Talkies.

When Shailendra wrote "mere man ki ganga aur there man ki jamna ja.." in 1964 for Raj Kapoor, Vyjayanthimala starter Sangam, also directed by Raj Kapoor little did he know that people will take another meaning of these lines like they were used to, for Dada Kondke lyrics. This depended on the people who wanted to use a different meaning out of just about any song or sentence. But that apart when released the film was a superhit. Unlike these days over 56 years back the movie would be first released in a few metropolitan cities like Bombay and Delhi as initially only few prints would be made and depending on the response more prints of the film would be developed and sent out to across the country for release. Raj Kapoor indeed was a big name in the industry so it was unlikely that the film will not be a hit. It was a silver jubilee movie(running for 25 weeks for all four shows in a theatre) and later became a golden jubilee ( 50 weeks non stop) superhit. Distributors will charge theatres who want to run the movie in their cinema halls depending on these ratings and also on the star cast. Everything was perfect for Sangam, a hit star cast, director, lyricist, music by Shankar Jaikishan and singers like Mohd Rafi, Lata Mangeshkar. So obviously theatre owners had to shell out quite some money and commit rent for at least 4 weeks if not more and their investments in such movies always resulted in big profits through ticket sales that often attracted black marketed tickets that they themselves will control .. not sure if current generation is aware of this but back then for popular movies, outside the cinema halls counter sale will open for 5 or 10 minutes and the counter will show a board "Sold". But out side the ticket counter you could buy tickets from people with a handkerchief tied to their neck and with one or two open buttoned shirts, shouting " balcony ka10 waala 25 men" " stall Ka 5 waala 10 men" and so on. People would be happy even if they got at that price. For hit movies even cops would make a lot, either by snatching tickets from these agents or by the money offered by these black marketeers. First day, first show on the movies released usually on Fridays would command double that price at times, so movie watching on Friday 1st show was reserved for rich people or very keen enthusiasts only. 

In Betma, however, there were no permanent theatres. During the holiday season when schools were shut some men will set up a "Touring Talkies". These were like circuses of those days. On an empty patch of land when there is still time for sowing new crop they would the place on rent and cover all four sides using temporary tents with open roof and small opening for people to enter by showing their tickets to the gatekeeper. Inside the "hall" at the back there would be some 5 rows of 20 seats of folding chairs each and in the ground ahead till the screen some 200 people could sit on the leveled ground. Most people entered through the gates but some smart ones usually kids, would also sneak in crawling but when caught they faced canning by green freshly plucked sticks and were thrown out. Tickets were not priced like those in the cities and often times it would be for 50 Paise and Re 1.00 except for popular movies for which it would be double that amount. Since movie could run only when it got dark there would be only two shows and sometimes just one depending on the response from audience. There would be full house on the weekly bazaar (called haat) days and not so on regular weekdays. The publicity would be through posters put at various places as well as through a tanga moving around that was covered with posters and one or two people shouting over public address system. Usually the tanga would run through the village and sometimes also in the small nearby villages from where people came on weekly bazaar days for their household purchase including some vendors who came to sell their wares. Since it would be crowded on bazaar days with no place for tanga to go through, you may also find someone with a battery operated PAS or just a small "bhopu" (conical footlong equipment) made by an ironsmith shouting loudly. Usually with a small movie poster hanging over his neck. 

The screen would often be a clean white cloth and the 16 mm mobile "RCA/Photophone" projector that had option to run on battery would be the only hardware needed to project the movie. Since Betma was just electrified there was a provision for running the projector on electricity as well.

In the autumn of 1967 owners of Touring Talkies got lot of request for movie Sangam that was released three years back and had made headlines and ran in Indore ( some 14 miles away) nearly a year ago. The owner considered it but the rent was pretty steep and a lot required as deposit to be paid in advance to distributors. That could have given profits but it was also risky. So he came out with an idea and announced the date of Sangam with grand publicity. 

Come the evening with first show of Sangam in Betma and one could see the soaring crowd from at least a mile if not more. Tickets were three times the normal price i.e. Rs 1.50 and Rs 3.00 respectively for stall and balcony (as some would call it) and learning from city cinema goers the owner also resorted to black marketing to make a little more. Soon the show started at the sunset and people were so happy to see Raj Kapoor singing on screen the songs in the voice of playback hero Mohd Rafi but they could not identify Vyjayanthimala as female artist who was also singing on screen songs sung by Lata Mangeshkar. At interval the food hawkers outside also made a killing as they never saw such a crowd earlier. But the crowd was confused although they saw songs like "main ka karoon raam mujhko buddha mil gaya" and "ye mera prem patra padh kar". But something was amiss and they couldn't figure out what. 

Soon after the interval the most popular song " mere man ki ganga aur tere man ki jamna" came on the speakers but long before the song got over, Raj Kapoor was having some dialogue with the heroine. That was the time when cine-goers realised that they were taken for a ride and that they were fooled by showing some other movie also whenever the song time came Sangam songs were played making movie audio silent. Soon after that there were riots and stampede and spectators made a havoc, broke the chairs and tore off the tent and the screen. Such was a chaos that police was called to restore the situation. After pocketing substantial money from owner they shoo away the crowd. No one was given any refund. It was such a disaster that the Touring Talkies had to run away overnight and was never seen again in Betma.

What had happened was that owner got a "brilliant" brain wave when he saw the demand and instead of  Raj Kapoor - Vyjayanthimala colour movie SANGAM (1964) he hired Raj Kapoor-Rehana starrer SARGAM (a 1950 black and white movie) Raj Kapoor was a bigger star who was seen on the screen and people thought may be Vyjayanthimala looked different in the movie with the make-up. They enjoyed all the songs till interval although the sequencing was changed and the operator kept the most famous "mere man ki ganga.." for post interval.

This smartness ruined the Touring Talkies owner but still makes me laugh whenever I remember the incidence.

Child entrepreneur.

This must have been around the same time around 1966-67 when the Loban venture was encouraging and profit making. During Diwali time I observed people would be buying lots of things for household for the celebrations. Diwali was  and is indeed the biggest festival that we celebrate here in India and this has been such since time immemorial. So I am sure not just in 20th century but also in preceding time in 15th or 10th or 5th century or even before this was celebrated with the same fervour.. with gay and gaiety. 

Shops will be decked up with novelty that would be released by manufacturers to attract more and more customers and even when they had similar items at home just to tweak the design here and there to attract people into buying. Be it some utensils or glassware or decorative pieces or firecrackers or what you may have there. People also want to be well stocked for food items with spices and grains that they usually don't keep but for festivities they would be using them for making savories and sweets.

The weekly markets would be larger than the usual with more vendors and more items and noise levels will go multifold. In those days we used to enjoy such noise and often mimic it then or later and laugh. My father had taken a loan and bought a running flourmill from someone to add some extra income as it was hard for him to meet up with expenses of family of 7 (including our ageing grandfather, Baa). 

Baa was well respected in the village where he spent all his life and during his work life he was engaged in Holkar State service as Patwari, a revenue officer. This was a very important position as even today a revenue officer would have. He would know everyone who has some land, big or small and everyone would know him. Actually, more people would know him than he would know people. As Patwari he would have control over the land of several villages in the vicinity for any kind of transaction: sale, purchase, transfer etc. I am sure he commanded great respect being upright. He was also very kind and helpful to people extending moral as well as monetary support to poor and needy , especially farmers. That left him penniless after retirement. So we didn't have much to spend or got anything in inheritance but respect from people and his values. He had some small savings with which he had purchased a small piece of land but being a revenue office he thought it inappropriate to have it in his name and had given it to his younger brother hoping he would have it back when he retires ..that obviously didn't happen. He must have had little pension from the state that was perhaps sufficient for his own sustenance. 

He was happiest when my father opted for a transfer and managed to have a posting in Sanawda as a sole teacher of primary school near Betma. In those days inter-district transfers were very difficult and he had to request senior divisional education officers on compassionate grounds for a transfer. Even to reach out to such authorities was tough so I suppose he approached one of his uncles who was a headmaster in a school and a very respected teacher, a social worker and a homeopath doctor who studied homeopathy on his own and used to run a charitable clinic with his own money, outside school timings to serve people. He was very popular not just in his town Badnawar that was a tehsil of Dhar District, but also in and around Indore Division. For his teaching services he was also awarded a Rashtrapati Puraskaar (President's Medal) in the late sixties. We will talk later about him.

I think the amount was Rs 4000 for which my father purchased the flour mill with earning potential of Rs 200 per month after cutting all expenses including salary of one operator, electricity and Rs 10 per month rent of the place. It was a nice and open place from front and behind with a room size of some 20' X 40' and a platform of  20'x10' in front and some space at the back. On one side of the aata-chakki ( as flourmill are called) was Pehlwan Amarsingh's house that had some 10-12 milk giving buffaloes tied all the time except during the day and on the other was a shop cum residence of a barber. The road outside was also wide by village standards which can allow two bullock carts to pass at the same time. This place was between our home and the bus stand each about 300 meters away due to that there was lot of movement and even if there were no customers, you won't get bored sitting or just being there. This venture of my father was called "Tribandhu Flour Mill (three brothers' Aata Chakki)". There are more stories associated with this place that we will keep for later. 

For now, I observed during the weekly market that during the Diwali time other then the regular vendors some new vendors would also sprung up with "seasonal" items. One such item that came to my attention was the picture of Ma Laxmi flanked by ma Sarawati on one side and Lord Ganesh on the other. There were different sizes of pictures of the same deity. I also observed that everyone who came to the weekly market bought at least one new picture (paana) although they may be having an old one from the previous years. Some would be framed in fancy frames and some others loose. Majority of the pictures that for sold were loose printed on shiny papers of 4"x6" or 6"x8 and some 12"x15" as well. I quickly did some calculations and with some money left in my piggy bank I told a friend's father who used to go to Indore for his shop's stock replenishments to get me an assortment of ma laxmiji's printed pictures.. ( Laxmi ji ke paane). Having got them I first put a nice display on the chabootara /platform outside the Chakki but found that the off take was very low so the next week I made a mobile shop and made a cardboard display that I could carry in my small hands with some thread strings attached so that the "paane" don't get slipped.. I had to practice it hard and the week after, when the weekly market started buzzing with activities I started roaming through the place from one end to another it would be about 300 meters with several ( 2 or 3) rows in between. In about 3 to 4 hours I sold some 300+ pictures of various sizes. Overall a 15 day business would have rendered me a profit of Rs 30 or more. Rs 10 on each market days and Rs 10 or so on all other days. 

So I had diversified my business and with some innovation managed to remain in business for both Loban and Laxmi ji ke Panne for the next three years. In my last year in Betma I was in class 10th that used to be high school board exam so I gave up my business for other young and budding entrepreneurs.

Picture of one of those paanas that is still with us.

 

Early Entrepreneur.

Quoting Merriam Webster dictionary: Tazia is a replica of the tomb of Husain, the martyred grandson of Muhammad, that is carried in processions during the Shi'ite festival of Muharram. 

Muharram used to be a big festival for me as well. Being a born non-sectarian, that I continue to be, I have been celebrating all the festivals of any religion, as they come. As under 10 year old child, I knew the celebration part but not the history of it. I also used to wonder about the rigour with which those ahead of the procession would dance and inflict wounds upon themselves as part of the three day long festival (later learnt, it was mourning). The Mehdi ki Raat, the Katl ki Raat and the final day of Tazia processions. The first two I looked at carefully and understood much later during my final years of school. But at the onset of this story I used to be excited with the final day procession that would pass through Betma and finally all the fancy, well decorated tableau some having larger than life white horses would rest at Karbala and huge crowd would gather around to have a thorough look at them and also discuss amongst themselves and rank them, not sure if anyone would ask them to vote to decide which tableau was the best. The place will be filled with people of all religion not just Shi'a Muslims who would come from nearby villages on bullock carts, bicycles and also on foot ..men, women and children. Some in their burqas too. Although this was a festival of mourning it was this also a Mela and people would come to enjoy the day in the best of their clothes for the occasion. As a token, at the end of the day a small replica of Tazia would get immersed in the river flowing nearby (the same river that would have Damu's panwari a little further near it's banks). In a way there were similarity in excitement and celebrations to the Anant Chaudas for us kids.. in tableau, in vendors selling goodies in the noise around etc. etc. Children don't care why it is observed/celebrated they just need reason to feel happy.

Much later, even today I don't understand as to why some people want to disturb this happiness of children and some others. I now learnt that Muharram is a Shi'a festival who are different from Sunnis in their belief about who is/was true follower of Prophet Hazrat Mohammad. But back then they I hardly cared the reason for celebrations/ festivities.

I must have been 8 or 9 when I first noticed this festival and went out on my own to have fun in the Mela. Over there I saw that some people would buy a small packet that would fit into your palm, wrapped in some paper and put out all its content in front of a Tazia into a small pot with fire burning in it and there would be sudden change in aroma of the air, it would be full of lovely almost intoxicating fragrance. Through an enquiry I learnt that the stuff packed in those packet was called LOBAN ( a resin also called gum Benzoin) and it's a kind of material similar to guggal dhoop that enhances the fragrance once put to the holy fire that burns before the Tazia. Then I recollected that this is the same fragrance that you smell when some nomadic wandering fakirs with something in their hand, when they ask for alms they would put loban into the small fire they carry to fumigate surroundings with aroma. Loban is also used in incense sticks for wonderful fragrance and also has its use in aromatherapy. Further enquiries revealed that with  one kg of Loban resin you could make 200 packets and each packet gets sold for 5 paisa. Meaning you could collect Rs 10 if you sold 1Kg that otherwise would cost you Rs 5.00. The idea of making some profits for engrained into me and a few weeks before the next Muharram I bought 1kg of Loban and made 200 small packets wrapped in papers. Luckily no one at home noticed or objected since I used my "own" money and didn't ask for any help. 

Come the day and my excitement was at its peak, much more than precious years. I took a small home-stitched cotton shoulder bag and put all 200 packets carefully in it and started my entrepreneurial journey wearing a deep pocket knicker to keep the change and ensured it is not torn. At the Karbala ground the crowd had started gathering and people were offering loban to the small fire put in front of those tableaus. I began by shouting " Loban le lo, Loban le lo", 5 Paise ki pudia.. 5 Paise ki. " When people saw a young boy selling more quantity of Loban than other vendors they crowded around and within an hour or so, my stock vanished after shifting my place from one Tazia to another when I saw the crowd thinning around.

I was very happy with my venture and was on the top of the world having collected Rs 10.00 of which I made a profit of Rs 5.00.