Diwali Anka

Diwali Anka is a characteristic Marathi phenomenon. The stingy Marathi Manus takes little pains of buying a lot of books but library membership is more or less universal. And while writers write and publishers publish, there are many magazines available that are worth a mention. The magazines that otherwise come up with a paltry 20-30 page editions take a break after Diwali but for Diwali they lay out a pleasure of 200+ page edition! This contains anything and everything you want to read – of course depending on the magazines’ background. So, while “Shatayushee” (Live for 100 years) will publish grotesque pictures of ulcers and amputated diabetic feet, imploring people to eat less hot and sweet things, “Awaj” on the other side will make fun of everything with marvelous cartoons, double entendre and comical strips. Many a Marathi Manus has spent hours in local trains, buses, dimly lit rooms, libraries and even workplaces reading the Diwali Special edition! And doing what we do best – exchange a read copy of the edition for another magazine and discuss with imprudent arrogance the articles in the magazines.

I was beginning to think this tradition was on the wane but for the advertisements, I saw about the upcoming Diwali Editions. Our neighbor asked if we wanted to be a part of this small library that buys a select few editions and we all read, exchange and perhaps keep a copy or two for ourselves when everyone has finished reading. That was an emphatic yes from my parents! Yesterday, we got the first installment of the editions. My mother picked up Sadhana and Shatayushee.

A word about Sadhana – My father and some other family members subscribed to this magazine (a fortnightly to be precise). It gives away my families’ leftward-leanings! (My families’ I said; not mine!) Sadhana was founded by Sane Guruji – a Gandhian, philosopher, writer, teacher and politician. An eternally sensitive person, he could not take the politics and committed suicide. His thought leadership although socialist, was nevertheless progressive and immaculate. The tradition was later shouldered by the likes of NG Gore, SM Joshi, Prof. Madhu Dandavate and Pramila Dandavate, George Fernandis, Prof. GP Pradhan, Baba Amte, Mrinal Gore etc. Imminent personalities of Marathi Literature and thought-leaders like Vasant Bapat and Yadunath Thatte have been editors of this magazine. And right now, Dr. Narendra Dabholkar, the Anndhashraddha Nirmulan Samiti (Let’s eradicate superstitions!) fame is the editor. I looked at the table of contents last night – it includes analyses by Govind Talavalkar, Kumar Ketkar, columns by Maruti Chitampalli, Prof. GP Pradhan, Sulakshana Mahajan, discussions by Dr. Shriram Lagu and Dr. Girish Karnad and article on Shanta Shelke and other big personalities, Children’s corner by Rajiv Tambe and Abhijit Ghorpade and much more. The likes of Dilip Prabhavalkar, Suhita Thatte, Medha Patkar and Dnyanada Naik are missing for some reason.

It should make interesting reading. I am looking forward to this weekend. After a long time, I will be reading something in Marathi!

What’s the use?

We started some furniture work and soon the house was filled with a lot of saw-dust, tap-tap-tap noise of the hammer, the click-clack of the cutter and such. The carpenters took over the house as if it were their own. Along with the carpenters came an apprentice. If his real age is revealed, the contractor, the interior designer and I will be squarely at odds with the Social Welfare Ministry. But let us just say, he may have started school late and hence this 8th grade dropout may be just in the age group that UN accounts for population-productivity. The apprentice would look haggard, under some sort of pressure and unwilling. Naturally, at his age, boys go to school, play and watch cartoons if their parents permit. But not him. The south-paw was learning – he would meticulously apply the fevicol, tap the nails and help the elder one. The elder one was never satisfied, but would accept the product with gruff, sometimes scold the apprentice and implore him to work better or faster. Days went by and our familiarity with the strangers started increasing.

The native Rajasthan of these hard working carpenters is very different. And naturally, the change in season, unreasonable amount of rain and hard work took toll on the apprentice’s health. He came down with fever, shivering and fatigued. That was a much required thaw. My mother gave him warm water, paracetomal and some biscuits to keep him from falling sick further. He sat down in a corner like a white lamb. The redness of his eyes – my mother could not determine if it were the chemicals in the plywood, his health or plain homesickness that made him cry. They got talking and the apprentice sought comfort in the motherly treatment he got from that unknown woman.

From then on, he started talking, walking little more confidently and working as hard as ever. He was from a village in remote Rajasthan. The unseasonable rains this season washed away everything…crops, livestock, gold…everything. He produced a cut-out from his wallet with people marooned on a hillock. This is how it was back then, he said. His father is a farmer, brother an apprentice somewhere else. There are two mobile phones at home, but no help – as networks always tend to be busy when he tries calling. “Yahaan Hindi akhbar nahi milata?” (Do you get Hindi Newspapers here?) – he enquired. Took keen interest in Osama Bin Laden and asked for the papers when Osama’s pictures were printed. His child-like curiosity sometimes overtook the aloof, self-imposed “worker” status – Diwali Lanterns, ringing of the mobiles, English newspapers – would bring sparkle to his eyes. Coyly he would ask me – “You are making chapati’s today? Ah, I didn’t see maaji at home!” With all the school boy curiosity he would ask – “Which subjects do they teach in school here?” And told about the subjects he had learned. He would feel sorry that they started English lessons so late if he would see us read something in English. Missing the school, being away from home seemed to touch a raw-nerve. But a reluctant acceptance of the situation would bring him back to the real world – “paDh likh key bhe to kyaa hai, kaam to yahi karana hai” – What’s the use going to school, after all I am destined to become a carpenter anyways.

While the couch potatoes discuss about the creamy-layer reservations and talk of the “sarva-shiksha abhiyaan” the average hungry folk are enquiring – what’s the use? That’s the sorry state of education today and especially of the have-nots who do not feel confident that education will help them.