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Becoming a Guest in one’s own home,Shimla – by Raaja Bhasin.

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A brash, if not brave, new world has overtaken our lives and swamped the town.

Shimla, fortunately, still has some delightfully eccentric souls. For better or worse, they have colourful characters and garnish the town with their harmless, and often useful, foibles. There is one wonderfully obstinate soul who is deeply distressed by the number of VIP vehicles that shuttle bored wives to kitty parties, and ferry privileged staff for grocery shopping to the Mall. “They might as well cut every tree and demolish every remaining heritage structure and make a parking lot,” he grumbles. In benevolent stubbornness, he does not move when VIP cars come blasting their horns. He has found a way out. He pretends to be deaf.

Another gentleman seemed to be able to sniff out tourists who did not use Google Maps and were in search of directions. Those whose presence, he felt, was sullying the town, were pointed the wrong way. With his able assistance, people who wanted to go to the railway station arrived at the bus stand. “Now they will go back and tell their friends not to come to Shimla and I will have achieved my goal of keeping away tourists like these,” was his take. The ones that he approved, however, found correct directions. He would chat them up. He would let them buy him coffee. Or more. Occasionally, he would get carried away and go to a friend who had a photo studio on the Mall and ask for his picture to be taken with them. As he never paid for the pictures and never came to collect a print, my friend would click away and then delete the file.

On the subject of tourists and photographs in the hills — and given our national obsession with the West — almost on a daily basis, one sees some of our Indian brethren sliding up to someone with white skin with the opening line: “Which country are you from?” This happened recently to a fair-skinned desi friend who replied in shuddh Hindi, much to the disappointment of the would-be questioner. But for the real thing, that opening gambit done, the next move is to try and get a ‘selfie’. Any age, any gender may suffice. Of course, there are preferences, but let me not broach that topic for the moment.

Needless to say, all sorts of people want to come to Shimla. As recently re-reported, even the terrorist Amir Hamza of the Lashkar-e-Taiba said in 1999: “Through the jihad waged by mujahideen people of Pakistan, and particularly those from Lahore, (we) would soon be able to (visit and enjoy) the real Chamba and Shimla.”

Most of Shimla’s elegant old estates have long gone. One, like many others, due to various reasons had to be parcelled off and sold in plots by its owners. All the plots now have big high-rises and almost every one of those buildings is a hotel. Locals refer to this as the wholesale mandi of tourists who come from all parts of our country and overseas. It is ‘season time’ now and as one of the hoteliers remarked: “When it is season time, then we use the jhatka method on their wallets. In off-season, it is halal, slow and steady.”

For many of us, to whom Shimla is home, we have an ambivalent attitude towards tourists. In the past, while it had its fair share of visitors, this was never a tourist town. The critical marker was the way civic amenities were geared. These catered to the local population and only then, if required — which was rarely — to tourists. This was a place where ordinary people with ordinary lives lived, and lived quite happily. It was a place where nothing could go wrong. How wrong we were. As we watched, sitting like flies on the wall, unnoticed, unheard and perhaps unwanted, we seem to have become guests in our own home.

A brash, if not brave, new world has overtaken our lives and swamped the town. The middle class is moving further and further away from the heart of town. They go to greater distances to live and shop. Economics has pushed them out from the increasingly expensive heart of Shimla. As in other parts of Himachal, there often is a locals versus tourists conflict. Much of this has to do with the behaviour and the rubbish (of different sorts) that is brought in. If there are any followers of the brilliant Nek Chand reading this, may I request them to create a new ‘selfie point’? This could be a pile of rubbish with the slogan: ‘My contribution to the Himalaya’.

But perhaps all is not lost. One has just witnessed a heartening sight. A middle class family of parents and three children were examining and animatedly discussing the plants growing on a stone retaining wall — the common dock leaf (our very own ‘jungli palak’), fleabane, assorted sedum and tiny pelargoniums. These were the perfect ‘aspirational tourists’. People who appreciate what the hills have to offer. People who have planned and budgeted and come to make the most of their time and the place. This family must have spent around 20 minutes taking delight in a wall that hundreds walk by, unseeing, every single day.

Raaja Bhasin

Article appeared in The Tribune 

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BCS Crest / Badge de-coded by historian Raaja Bhasin

BCS Crest / Badge

Every Cottonian knows this Badge and Crest from Day One at BCS.

Many of us have looked closely, and probably figured out the meaning of some of the more easy to decipher elements.

Old Cottonian and Historian RAAJA BHASIN had published an analysis for the School many years ago, and we have a copy of his detail to share today :

The School Badge.

The badge of Bishop Cotton School is a replica of the coat of arms of Bishop Cotton and was adopted by the School. However, in place of the Cotton family motto which is ‘En utraque fortuna paratus’, the school motto is ‘Overcome evil with good’.

The shield is essentially a ‘per pale’ one, which means that it is divided vertically down the centre. In the larger tradition of English heraldry, this design allowed the arms of both the man and his wife to appear on the shield. Derived from Latin, the two sides are called the ‘dexter’ and the ‘sinister’. The man’s arms being the dexter and the woman’s, the sinister. In the case of the Bishop (and other ecclesiastics), the arms of the diocese take the position of the man. Here, the arms of the Bishopric of Calcutta are given the place of honour – Bishops and other clerics were regarded as ‘wedded’ to their dioceses. The arms on this side of the crest are the mitre, the staff and the open Bible. On the other side, the twisting figures are skeins of cotton and are an allusion to the family name. The chevron, the inverted V between these hanks, is a part of the ‘per fess’ division that divides the crest horizontally. This was normally taken to represent the gable of a house and was added where the family had an established tradition of military service. George Cotton’s relative, the Viscount Combermere ( after whom Combermere Bridge in Shimla is named) had served as Commander-in-Chief of the East India Company’s army.

Further reading:
BCS History researched by Raaja Bhasin

Wikipedia for info on Sinister and Dexter

The Playing-fields of Shimla

I’d like to share one true-life story penned by Ruskin Bond here, which I think is beautifully written –
Sarabjit [Sabu] Singh

The Playing Fields of Shimla

t had been a lonely winter for a twelve-year-old boy. I hadn’t really got over my father’s untimely death two years previously; nor had I as yet reconciled myself to my mother’s marriage to the Punjabi gentleman who dealt in second-hand cars. The three-month winter break over, I was almost happy to return to my boarding school in Shimla— that elegant hill station once celebrated by Kipling and soon to lose its status as the summer capital of the Raj in India.

It wasn’t as though I had many friends at school. I had always been a bit of a loner, shy and reserved, looking out only for my father’s rare visits—on his brief leaves from RAF duties—and to my sharing his tent or air force hutment outside Delhi or Karachi. Those unsettled but happy days would not come again. I needed a friend but it was not easy to find one among a horde of rowdy, pea-shooting fourth formers, who carved their names on desks and stuck chewing gum on the class teacher’s chair. Had I grown up with other children, I might have developed a taste for schoolboy anarchy; but, in sharing my father’s loneliness after his separation from my mother, I had turned into a premature adult. The mixed nature of my reading—Dickens, Richmal Crompton, Tagore and Champion and Film Fun comics—probably reflected the confused state of my life. A book reader was rare even in those pre-electronic times. On rainy days most boys played cards or Monopoly, or listened to Artie Shaw on the wind-up gramophone in the common room.

After a month in the fourth form I began to notice a new boy, Omar, and then only because he was a quiet, almost taciturn person who took no part in the form’s feverish attempts to imitate the Marx Brothers at the circus. He showed no resentment at the prevailing anarchy, nor did he make a move to participate in it. Once he caught me looking at him, and he smiled ruefully, tolerantly. Did I sense another adult in the class? Someone who was a little older than his years?

Even before we began talking to each other, Omar and I developed an understanding of sorts, and we’d nod almost respectfully to each other when we met in the classroom corridors or the environs of dining hall or dormitory. We were not in the same house. The house system practised its own form of apartheid, whereby a member of, say, Curzon House was not expected to fraternize with someone belonging to Rivaz or Lefroy! Those public schools certainly knew how to clamp you into compartments. However, these barriers vanished when Omar and I found ourselves selected for the School Colts’ hockey team—Omar as a fullback, I as goalkeeper. I think a defensive position suited me by nature. In all modesty I have to say that I made a good goalkeeper, both at hockey and football. And fifty years on, I am still keeping goal. Then I did it between goalposts, now I do it off the field—protecting a family, protecting my independence as a writer…

The taciturn Omar now spoke to me occasionally, and we combined well on the field of play. A good understanding is needed between goalkeeper and fullback. We were on the same wavelength. I anticipated his moves, he was familiar with mine. Years later, when I read Conrad’s The Secret Sharer, I thought of Omar.

It wasn’t until we were away from the confines of school, classroom and dining hall that our friendship flourished. The hockey team travelled to Sanawar on the next mountain range, where we were to play a couple of matches against our old rivals, the Lawrence Royal Military School. This had been my father’s old school, but I did not know that in his time it had also been a military orphanage. Grandfather, who had been a private foot soldier—of the likes of Kipling’s Mulvaney, Otheris and Learoyd—had joined the Scottish Rifles after leaving home at the age of seventeen. He had died while his children were still very young, but my father’s more rounded education had enabled him to become an officer.

Omar and I were thrown together a good deal during the visit to Sanawar, and in our more leisurely moments, strolling undisturbed around a school where we were guests and not pupils, we exchanged life histories and other confidences. Omar, too, had lost his father—had I sensed that before?— shot in some tribal encounter on the Frontier, for he hailed from the lawless lands beyond Peshawar. A wealthy uncle was seeing to Omar’s education. The RAF was now seeing to mine.

We wandered into the school chapel, and there I found my father’s name—A.A. Bond—on the school’s roll of honour board: old boys who had lost their lives while serving during the two World Wars.

‘What did his initials stand for?’ asked Omar.

‘Aubrey Alexander.’

‘Unusual names, like yours. Why did your parents call you Ruskin?’

‘I am not sure. I think my father liked the works of John Ruskin, who wrote on serious subjects like art and architecture. I don’t think anyone reads him now. They’ll read me, though!’ I had already started writing my first book. It was called Nine Months (the length of the school term, not a pregnancy), and it described some of the happenings at school and lampooned a few of our teachers. I had filled three slim exercise books with this premature literary project, and I allowed Omar to go through them. He must have been my first reader and critic. ‘They’re very interesting,’ he said, ‘but you’ll get into trouble if someone finds them. Especially Mr Oliver.’ And he read out an offending verse—

Oily, Oily, Oily, with his balls on a trolley,

And his arse all painted green!

I have to admit it wasn’t great literature. I was better at hockey and football. I made some spectacular saves, and we won our matches against Sanawar. When we returned to Shimla, we were school heroes for a couple of days and lost some of our reticence; we were even a little more forthcoming with other boys. And then Mr Fisher, my housemaster, discovered my literary opus, Nine Months, under my mattress, and took it away and read it (as he told me later) from cover to cover. Corporal punishment then being in vogue, I was given six of the best with a springy malacca cane, and my manuscript was torn up and deposited in Fisher’s waste-paper basket. All I had to show for my efforts were some purple welts on my bottom. These were proudly displayed to all who were interested, and I was a hero for another two days.

‘Will you go away too when the British leave India?’ Omar asked me one day.

‘I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘My stepfather is Indian.’

‘Everyone is saying that our leaders and the British are going to divide the country. Shimla will be in India, Peshawar in Pakistan!’

‘Oh, it won’t happen,’ I said glibly. ‘How can they cut up such a big country?’ But even as we chatted about the possibility, Nehru and Jinnah and Mountbatten and all those who mattered were preparing their instruments for major surgery.

Before their decision impinged on our lives and everyone else’s, we found a little freedom of our own—in an underground tunnel that we discovered below the third flat.

It was really part of an old, disused drainage system, and when Omar and I began exploring it, we had no idea just how far it extended. After crawling along on our bellies for some twenty feet, we found ourselves in complete darkness. Omar had brought along a small pencil torch, and with its help we continued writhing forward (moving backwards would have been quite impossible) until we saw a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. Dusty, musty, very scruffy, we emerged at last on to a grassy knoll, a little way outside the school boundary.

It’s always a great thrill to escape beyond the boundaries that adults have devised. Here we were in unknown territory. To travel without passports—that would be the ultimate in freedom!

But more passports were on their way and more boundaries.

Lord Mountbatten, Viceroy and Governor-General-to-be, came for our Founder’s Day and gave away the prizes. I had won a prize for something or the other, and mounted the rostrum to receive my book from this towering, handsome man in his pinstripe suit. Bishop Cotton’s was then the premier school of India, often referred to as the ‘Eton of the East.’ Viceroys and Governors had graced its functions. Many of its boys had gone on to eminence in the civil services and armed forces. There was one ‘old boy’ about whom they maintained a stolid silence—General Dyer, who had ordered the massacre at Amritsar and destroyed the trust that had been building up between Britain and India.

Now Mountbatten spoke of the momentous events that were happening all around us—the War had just come to an end, the United Nations held out the promise of a world living in peace and harmony, and India, an equal partner with Britain, would be among the great nations…

A few weeks later, Bengal and Punjab provinces were bisected. Riots flared up across northern India, and there was a great exodus of people crossing the newly drawn frontiers of Pakistan and India. Homes were destroyed, thousands lost their lives.

The common-room radio and the occasional newspaper kept us abreast of events, but in our tunnel, Omar and I felt immune from all that was happening, worlds away from all the pillage, murder and revenge. And outside the tunnel, on the pine knoll below the school, there was fresh untrodden grass, sprinkled with clover and daisies, the only sounds the hammering of a woodpecker, the distant insistent call of the Himalayan barbet. Who could touch us there?

‘And when all the wars are done,’ I said, ‘a butterfly will still be beautiful.’

‘Did you read that somewhere?’

‘No, it just came into my head.’

‘Already you’re a writer.’

‘No, I want to play hockey for India or football for Arsenal. Only winning teams!’

‘You can’t win forever. Better to be a writer.’

When the monsoon rains arrived, the tunnel was flooded, the drain choked with rubble. We were allowed out to the cinema to see Lawrence Olivier’s Hamlet, a film that did nothing to raise our spirits on a wet and gloomy afternoon— but it was our last picture that year, because communal riots suddenly broke out in Shimla’s Lower Bazaar, an area that was still much as Kipling had described it—‘a man who knows his way there can defy all the police of India’s summer capital’— and we were confined to school indefinitely.

One morning after chapel, the headmaster announced that the Muslim boys—those who had their homes in what was now Pakistan—would have to be evacuated, sent to their homes across the border with an armed convoy.

The tunnel no longer provided an escape for us. The bazaar was out of bounds. The flooded playing field was deserted. Omar and I sat on a damp wooden bench and talked about the future in vaguely hopeful terms; but we didn’t solve any problems. Mountbatten and Nehru and Jinnah were doing all the solving.

It was soon time for Omar to leave—he along with some fifty other boys from Lahore, Pindi and Peshawar. The rest of us—Hindus, Christians, Parsis—helped them load their luggage into the waiting trucks. A couple of boys broke down and wept. So did our departing school captain, a Pathan who had been known for his stoic and unemotional demeanour. Omar waved cheerfully to me and I waved back. We had vowed to meet again some day,

The convoy got through safely enough. There was only one casualty—the school cook, who had strayed into an off-limits area in the foothill town of Kalka and been set upon by a mob. He wasn’t s

een again.

Towards the end of the school year, just as we were all getting ready to leave for the school holidays, I received a letter from Omar. He told me something about his new school and how he missed my company and our games and our tunnel to freedom. I replied and gave him my home address, but I did not hear from him again. The land, though divided, was still a big one, and we were very small.

Some seventeen or eighteen years later I did get news of Omar, but in an entirely different context. India and Pakistan were at war and in a bombing raid over Ambala, not far from Shimla, a Pakistani plane was shot down. Its crew died in the crash. One of them, I learnt later, was Omar.

Did he, I wonder, get a glimpse of the playing fields we knew so well as boys?

Perhaps memories of his schooldays flooded back as he flew over the foothills. Perhaps he remembered the tunnel through which we were able to make our little escape to freedom.

But there are no tunnels in the sky.

Camino de Santiago – pilgrimage 2025

Vivek “ Bonnie “ Bhasin

9th April 2025

The twin spires of the Cathedral at Santiago de Compostela are calling me again … beckoning me to come into the bubble of his special world ..his peaceful world … I have shed my bespoke suits, my fedora hats and the bouquet of that special tree..

  I need to walk on … reflect on … and mentor my own self … as a special person said ..  “ in the end you only report to yourself ..…” .. never STOP walking …

” Ultreia et Susseia  Go Further-Go Higher    On camino road from Karlstad to Oslo to Madrid to Salamanca to Zamora to Ourense to Santiago de Compostela “ St. James in the field of stars ..”

29th April 2025

My Camino Via de la plata started in Seville Andalusia and continued through the heart of Spanish Extremadura, entering Castile de Leon with a left turn at Granja de Moreruela connecting to Via Sanabres in Galicia and arriving at Santiago de Compostela in NW Spain …  it was one of my strongest and most arduous walks through extremes … heat, rain, wind, snow blizzards and even falling into a river … the body often protested but my mind fought against these odds …  i walked slow, heavy, enthused, energetic, tired with my back pack and my sticks …but finally I walked in to Santiago with a cool Irish Dude from Dublin and a laid back Canadian from Jasper Alberta…

The way that stretched from the south to NW Spain taking nearly 1,700,000 steps / 1200km …on camino road …

As Gandhi said …

“Life is too short to increase its speed …”

The yellow arrow, the camino shell and my body .. just moving forward taking with me my CLOSEST DEAREST and TRUEST.. All of Yo.. never STOP walking  …Ultreia et Susseia… go forward .. go higher ….

Bonnie Walker ..

Jam & packed

­For WE Buchanan and his Shimla-born son Colin, the quality of a town was defined by the quality of its public realm — a maxim ignored in Himachal

article_Author
RAAJA BHASIN

As a typecast Parisian, with both flourish and conceit in his pocket, the gentleman’s opening statement was: “Don’t you know that man discovered fire and invented the wheel?” I looked at him blankly. “So why are you still doing it?” he continued. This was in 2012. The person in question had just driven past an under-construction building that had collapsed near Himachal Pradesh’s High Court in Shimla. “Why must you further congest an already congested town?” he added. Through the course of the next couple of hours, abandoning other plans, we moved back and forth on Shimla’s Cart Road and finally focused on the stretch between the old bus stand and Himachal tourism’s Hotel Holiday Home. He went on: “Here is your solution. Put a bridge from below the gurdwara to below the tourism hotel. Pedestrianise everything in-between. In the space created, have parks, homes, shopping.” All excited, he continued in the same vein about the endless possibilities that could come about. (For someone not familiar with the place, this bridge, if built, would eliminate traffic from the core of Shimla).

Much of the extraordinary character of the hills is being eroded by supposed development. Colin Buchanan’s report established the benchmarks with which traffic could be handled with efficiency. Tribune photo: Lalit Kumar

While the basic idea could do with some more thought, he obviously knew what he was talking about, as he had been a part of the team which had built the Millau Viaduct in France. For a long time, this held the record for being the tallest bridge in the world. That was not all; this multi-span cable bridge, apart from being an outstanding engineering feat, is designed to cast a minimal possible shadow. With high-speed traffic moving overhead, the valley below still retains its rural character. Duly impressed, and having had both fire and wheel explained, off one went to have a word on this with the Powers That Be. The Powers listened. The Powers proclaimed it to be a brilliant idea. Then the Powers forgot all about it.

Much of the extraordinary character of the Himalaya, its forests, villages and towns is slowly being eroded by two behemoths — climate change and supposed development. That is not to say that ‘development’ is not required. Of course, it is. Many aspects of life in the hills are far better now than they were even a couple of decades back — access has improved, water and electricity have made life easier, and even if this leaves much to be desired, basic education and healthcare have come along. What is disturbing is the sheer size and greed of the development avatar that we worship. Off the record — and for ethical reasons, they shall remain unnamed — many of the aforesaid Powers have said the same thing: “It’s about money and votes.” Segments of the same Powers, those with a modicum of conscience, have also admitted that these two beasts, ‘money and votes’, feed from the same trough. Combined, they make a sizeable pair of elephants in the room.

The aforesaid Cart Road, which could have had another role, remains as congested as ever. Further down the hill, a four-lane highway zips one up the hill. As one approaches the town, one enters a traffic funnel and may well spend hours inching forward. All this seems to be a little ironical as the man to whom we owe the understanding of traffic movement and its impact on human life was born in Shimla.

In the early 20th century, WE Buchanan was the municipal engineer of Shimla. He held this position for several years, and much of the efficiency of the town’s water supply was attributed to his capability and diligence. Buchanan had significant local standing, but the extraordinary legacy of the family was to come from his son, who was born on August 22, 1907, while they lived in a house named Marl Bank near Chhota Shimla.

The son, Colin, went on the write a document titled ‘Traffic in Towns (The Buchanan Report of 1963)’. For the first time since the invention of the automobile, the report presented the whole picture of how transport and cities were inter-related. In a simple and readable manner, Sir Colin Buchanan’s document showed how economic growth could be accommodated and greater mobility provided. The report was widely circulated and while giving its author worldwide fame, also established the benchmarks with which traffic could be handled with efficiency. This ‘holy text’ of sorts was subsequently edited and abridged, and was published by Penguin. A bit of a surprise to both author and publisher, it became an international bestseller.

Traffic, for Buchanan, was “the monster we love”. His argument was that the existing towns and cities have a finite physical capacity. This was based on the character of a town and the buildings and spaces within it that would allow motor vehicles. In the context of the town of his birth, Shimla, one could add historicity and terrain. Access, in this case, could be achieved, but at an enormous cost. This cost would be financial and would result in a loss of the town’s character and buildings — as witnessed not only in Shimla, but practically every historical town of our country.

Buchanan remains one of the world’s great thinkers and planners of townscapes — and he did not advocate comprehensive redevelopment to favour motor vehicles. For him, the quality of a town was defined by the quality of its public realm, not by private spaces.

– Article by Raaja Bhasin

And another related article: Becoming a guest in one’s own home, Shimla

Wikipedia about the book “Traffic in Towns”

JUSTICE H.S.BEDI – A GENTLEMAN JUDGE

JUSTICE H.S.BEDI – A GENTLEMAN JUDGE

(Harry Bedi)

Justice Harjit Singh Bedi (Harry Bedi) belonged to a family of agriculturists from Sahiwal (Montgomery), now in Pakistan. He is a direct descendent of Guru Nanak Dev Ji. 17th in line. His father was, Tikka Jagjit Singh Bedi. After partition, his family was settled in Fazilka, a small township near the India-Pakistan Border.

He was born on September 5, 1946. He breathed his last on November 21, 2024. His life journey of 78 years was unique. He joined Bishop Cotton School, Simla in 1954. His school mates have described him in different hues. A man of utter simplicity. He was intelligent, dedicated and committed to his firm views. He was not a man who could be defeated easily on any intellectual matter. He was confident. He was assured. He spoke in a soft manner. He had clarity of thought. He was always among the toppers in his class. He was obedient. He was shy. He was no brawn. Not the daring kind.

Some of his friends of 1962 class have spoken for him and of him. Harry loved his dogs and guns. His love for dogs has continued throughout. They remained with him wherever he went. When the body was brought for the last time on November 22, 2024 at his farm house, one had to see how the pair condoled the death of the master. They were the best bodyguard and protector of Justice Bedi.

In 1960, during the phase of cold war, Khrushchev had made a frightening speech at the United Nations. It culminated with an exhibition of shoe thumping in 1960. It appeared the world was at the brink of another world war. Three friends, Guzdar, Vijay Khurana and Harry decided to write a letter to Khrushchev urging him to show restrain. The three of them sat in a class room with Harry in the centre. The letter was written. Of course, the author was Harry. There was a letter box behind the Headmaster’s office. The letter was duly dropped in the letter box. Two days later, at the dinner time, Fred Brown announced with a smile on his face – Khrushchev come and get your letter, the post man cannot deliver it. Harry got up. Collected the envelop much to the amusement of all around. All in all, Harry has been described one of the finest specimens of a good product that Bishop Cotton School saw past its hallowed portals.

Justice Bedi did his law from Delhi University in 1972. He was enrolled as an advocate with the Bar Council of Punjab and Haryana on July 17, 1972. While being an advocate, he was appointed as Part Time Lecturer in Law in 1974. I was already on the regular faculty since 1969. My association with him dates back to 1974. This 50 years journey was of Togetherness. He taught till 1983- short of a decade. Those were the years when our friendship matured. He was Deputy Advocate General, Punjab from 1983 to 1987. He was given senior’s gown in 1987. He was also appointed Additional Advocate General in which position he continued till 1989. He remained Advocate General (Punjab) till the end of 1990. He was elevated as Additional Judge of Punjab & Haryana High Court on March 15, 1991. He was further elevated as Chief Justice of Bombay High Court on October 3, 2006. Thereafter, the third elevation was to the Surpeme Court on 12.01.2007. I had the a joy of attending all the three swearing in ceremonies. He retired from the top court on 05.09.2011. What a journey ! From an advocate to senior advocate to judge of the High Court to the Chief Justice of the High Court and retired as Judge of the apex court of the country. A happy blend of a lawyer and a judge. His father, Tikka Jagjit Singh Bedi was a judge of Punjab & Haryana High Court who retired in 1969. Now, his son, Jasjit Singh Bedi is adorning the Bench of the same court. Three generations of judges. Doing of justice is flowing in the veins of Bedi family.

I wish to make a confession. When I sat down to weave this Tribute, I was in a dilemma – should I or should I not. My daughter Shruti got married to his son Jasjit on March 1, 2002. I have genuinely experienced him. As a judge (before 2002). As a human being, throughout. I ask myself, what is the difficulty! Therefore, I am sharing what I have experienced.

I took pre-mature retirement from Panjab University in 1991. Joined the Bar. I often use to appear in his court till the year 2001. He was a perfect mix of Socrates Recipe. Hear courteously. Consider soberly. Answer wisely. Decide impartially. His court use to be the lawyer’s court. The lawyers could give their best. The court environment was congenial. It was a learning experience for young lawyers. He was not technical. He was compassionate and humane judge. The young lawyers were encouraged. It was probably December, 2001. My son, Shireesh argued a matter in his court. After he finished, Shireesh was told, young man you have done very well. He gracefully bowed to the Hon’ble Judge. Justice Bedi asked the court master whose son is he? He was told, Balram’s son. Justice Bedi was liberal in his approach.

He remained a judge of constitutional courts for more than 20 years. He was truly an gentleman judge. His court craft. His court management. He would never lose his temper. A judge is measured by the judgments, he delivers. A judge speaks through his judgments. Judgments are not meant to be intellectual pieces of literature. They must speak of the courage, the empathy and the humanism of the judge. Above all, the sense of fairness, of openness and transparency. In Rathinam v. State of T.N. (2011) recorded : “The insinuation that the rich are always aggressors and the poor always the victims, is too broad and conjectural supposition”. This speaks of the balanced mind of Justice Bedi. He could never be easily swayed. In a three judge bench matter of Dasgupta v. Vijay Singh Sengoor (2010), Justice Bedi spoke candidly : “A public interest litigation is to be invoked sparingly and with rectitude and any order made in this situation must be reasonable and must not reflect the pique of the court……..as it is not the court’s business to attempt to run the Government in a manner which the court thinks is the proper way.” Once again, Justice Bedi did not trip into the domain of the government. He believed that judges must realize that they are ‘humans’. To do justice to humans is the best kind of service.

Above all, he was a good human being. During his 13 retirement years, he lived a life of a commoner. He never exhibited his position. Talking to him, one always felt, what a cultivated and well nurtured mind. He was ‘humility wrapped in humanity’. Permit me to be personal. Shruti became a part of Bedi family. Justice Bedi, got a Mandir constructed at the farm house. A Pandit performed the puja at the time of installing the different Idols. What a gesture! Truly, in Guru Nanak’s spirit. We all belong to one human family.

Edmund Burke spoke of : The cold neutrality of an impartial judge. That was Justice Bedi. He would always be remembered fondly. Equally, we would miss him dearly.

Dr. Balram K Gupta
Professor Emeritus

Senior Advocate

Former Director, NJA and CJA

Letter from a Cottonian & member of BOG of BCS [Anil Mehra]

Dear OC’s
No one forgets their school years . Memories of BCS grow stronger & each of us have our own memories, but there are many which are common amongst most of us. However, our zest to do good for the Alma Mater still remains our top priority. I also know all OCs wish to contribute in any which way for the good of our great Institution and its stakeholders.
Let me share with you that for several years during the period 1976 to 1986 a huge void was created by the school for ‘not allowing the Old boys to freely visit and interact with the School’. Sadly, you all will agree that this was not in the best interest of the school too. Ravi Sawhney and myself, were determined to set this situation right but did not make much head way due to Brig. Sam Mukand, (the headmaster at that time), in not allowing any OC visitors to the school without his written permission which was unreasonably withheld . Later, through my conviction and ‘never say die’ attitude, I, with the support of D.C Anand Sir (President Emeritus – OCA India), proposed to amend the constitution in February, 2006 to clarify and provide inter alia:

a) All properties and assets of the School shall vest with Bishop Cotton School Society Constituted under the Societies Act;
(b) The President of the OCA (India) will be an ex-officio member of the Board of Governors (BOG) of BCS;
(c) At least 2 OC’s will be inducted as co- opted members on a term of 3 years. The co-opted members are of course eligible for re-election; 

(d) All capital assets shall be approved by the BOG;
(e) The Headmaster BCS will be the ex-officio member secretary of the BOG with no right to vote;
(f) The Recording Secretary will be appointed at each meeting by the members present in the meeting;
(g) Importantly, that the decisions by the BOG are taken according to three fifths of the members entitled to vote etc. And thus the existing Veto rights & casting vote was done away with for ensuring that the normally accepted system of prudent management is in place for years to come. His grace, the Bishop Samantaroy has led the school for almost 3 decades with dedication & admiration from all. Yes, without these statutory changes, the Old boys would not have any formal say in the affairs of the school. And, with the honour of being on the board, a privilege indeed, also goes the fiduciary duty for serving the school. 

At the cost of being immodest let me further list down and share with you all, just a few achievements & challenges over the past few decades including my brief work experience & acknowledgements to OC’s: 

1.(i) ROBUST FINANCIAL POSITION: When I took over the added responsibility of chairmanship of the Finance Committee , the school had losses, debt-ridden situation where even the Endowment Funds & statutory gratuity liability was not funded and the school was burdened with accumulated financial liabilities of about 5/-Cr. In a very short time, the annual losses were not only arrested but converted into a reasonable surplus each year resulting in a healthy cash surplus. And this was achieved despite lower school fees than others. These results could not be possible without the support of the BOG , the Bursar Mr Rajiv Mehrotra & his team. (ii) The challenges of Covid for about 3 years were met very successfully by the management of the School. During this period, while rebates were given to the entire students including higher help to deserving students through the bursary scheme, on the other hand the school did not enforce any salaries cuts for the teachers & staff. 

(iii) The school is today equipped in improving the overall salary structure with higher salaries to deserving teachers based on reviews & recommendations to teachers with proven track record.
(iv) The food menu is good & plentiful 

(2) FINANCIAL CONTROLS: Strict internal controls both financial & non-financial have been implemented. In a nutshell the School’s financial position is sound & robust enough to meet the immediate basic future infrastructure needs of the school . However, OCs are welcome to contribute generously to the School through the OCA for the mutual benefit of all its stake holders.

(3) INFRASTRUCTURE: Reconciliation of the school land under various categories and survey of the land has been professionally done & recorded to ensure accuracy in ownership as a prerequisite before embarking on our various infrastructure projects. The school has an ambitious plan to spend a further about 35/- Cr in next 3 years from its surplus corpus funds. OC’s Jaspal Sawhney current President and Manav Singh, have volunteered to help & oversee the infrastructure demands of the school. Thank you both. 

What has already been done: In the last few years, the School has built teachers quarters below the cart road, the entire bitumen road from the entry to our School leading to the cart road below is cemented which will be good for years to come.
The Classrooms & Senior School dormitories have been heated for the comfort of all students. The Middle/ Junior school classrooms/dormitories are being heated and this project will be completed in time for the start of the 2024-25 academic year. The 3rd flat has fitted with an imported ‘artificial turf’ to provide the best playing conditions throughout the year. Further refurbishing of the entire Junior School is at the advanced stage of completion. 

What is being planned in the next 2 years : Now that BCS has generated the funds, we must upgrade BCS to its pristine glory and chase our quest for becoming an undisputed number one boarding School for Boys . 

(4) CONTRACTS: The processes for awarding contracts for such infrastructure work are totally transparent & awarded to vendors with proven track record. 

(5) TEACHING STAFF: Audit on teaching staff & identifying teaching gaps of teachers & improving their skills /learning through teacher’s training programs are being formalized . Simultaneously, the school has plans to upgrade teachers grades & emoluments for attracting talent & revamping of school faculty & Library. I have seen the Doon School impressive library & hopefully the management will upgrade ours to at least their level. 

(6) HEALTH CARE: BCS has a Special program to assess each student’s health at all levels with regular feed back to the parents on the child’s progress on each activity e.g., eyes, teeth, posture, height , weight, sugar, blood pressure etc. I believe BCS is one of the very few schools to have this program which has been restarted post Covid. The school attention towards the boy’s comfort & welfare is utmost. 

(7) IMPLEMENTING SOLAR POWER: The blueprint including positioning of solar panels at 4 to 5 locations to give maximum output in units produced has already been vetted for its implementation when required once the subsidy is restored. Similarly, comprehensive study for water harvesting also needs to be planned & implemented. 

8) INTRODUCATION OF O/A LEVELS: This initiative has been implemented during the current academic year 2024 by the current Director Mr. Simon Weale. This will give the students of BCS the much-needed opportunity for the pre university education options.

Mr. Simon Weale– Director, Mr. Mathew – the Headmaster & their team are doing a wonderful job in maintaining some of the traditions and simultaneously are also doing their best in uplifting the education standards & co-curricular activities with the changing times to meet the Parents increasing demands under various parameters. I hope some of these initiatives will go long way to overcome the challenges being faced by the school for retaining boys generally and particularly after class 10 for class. 

(9) STUDENT STRENGHT: The school needs the Students strength to restore to at least 450 to start with, even though 475 is the ideal strength to commensurate with the facilities and to sustain its financial health & infrastructure program. At present our numbers are about 400. 

(10) ALMA MATER FUND AT SCHOOL: For the benefits of OC’s who may not be aware that we have set aside an OCA fund of 50/- L in the school where the interest (about 4/- L p.a.) can be used by the school for OCA at the OC week/ Annual get togethers at Shimla to facilitate and celebrate students of each class after completing 25 years etc. There is also a Bursary Fund for deserving students including that of old boys. For further improving ties with their alma mater BCS, the OCA & the School have already recruited a separate alumni secretary, based at the campus. 

11) ENDOWMENT FUND: I have an Endowment Fund (present corpus is about 5/- L) set up almost 20 years ago, for the Accountancy Prize at BCS which also allows them Articles hip in one of the big four accounting firms once they have merited themselves as graduates. It is a matter of record that Chartered Accountants (CA) are highly placed as MD’s, CEO’s, CFOs in most organizations worldwide. C.A. has become a fruitful degree requiring minimum education cost that will hold such Students in good stead. I will be happy to guide and advice the students at BCS towards the same. 

(12) SESQUICENTENNIAL: I was privileged to be one of members organizing the sesquicentennial celebrations of the school in 2009 which went off rather well. We wish to acknowledge Vivek Bhasin for doing a wonderful job as Master of Ceremony. Vivek, through courtesy of the India Today FM music channel, used the platform effectively for interviewing OC’s & played Rock Music for everyone’s delight. The historic celebrations were well supported by the school teachers, members of the BOG & many OC’s while the class of 1959 supported financially the maximum. By the way, I was the single largest contributor, but sadly I could not attend the celebrations as just a few days before I was down with Swine flu. Jaspal Singh Sawhney as convenor ensured sufficient funds were collected for the festivities. 

I am glad that in the current year 2024, 165 years of celebrations of the school has been planned and we hope the old boys will participate in abundance & contribute for its success.

(13) ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS to BCS & OCA : My education at BCS has duly rewarded me for building a successful career. After graduating in B.com (Hons) from SRCC, I was amongst the few handfuls of meritorious graduate friends including another OC & a close friend A.K. Puri (Tunu), now based in Florida USA, selected by the RBI to be allowed to pursue the CA in London-UK in 1963. Post leaving BCS, my father made sure I was toughened by going to the ‘Akhaada’ in Old Delhi in the wee hours where I was trained to wrestle both Indian & Western styles and that gave me a perfect platform to get fitter. I say it with pride that I made up in sports by representing SRCC college in Hockey, football, Cricket, Table tennis & was awarded colours in Swimming. Playing Squash in London with some of the partners of the accounting firm held me in good stead. Today, I play golf regularly at weekends at the membership clubs Delhi Golf Club & Jaypee Greens and occasional billiards at the Delhi Gymkhana Club. This keeps me busy keeping up with old friends and make new ones simultaneously. You will all agree that meeting old school friends/ batch mates and remembering & recollecting old memories of those good old school days at BCS gives us immense satisfaction. 

I take this opportunity to acknowledge some of my Cottonian Sirs and friends who have supported me & the school. Let me thank Wendy Dewan (walking encyclopaedia on the history of the school & who also worked for the BCS administration) & Toti Agarwal, for being my guardian angels during my Train journey from Delhi To Shimla when I joined BCS in 1954. I was in BCS for 5 years and was a below par student but excelled in sports (awarded Boxing colours in the years 1956 & 1958). Regretfully, my biggest disappointment was that I could not finish my schooling at BCS but fortunately I caught up with most of my colleagues later at the Delhi university in 1960. I transformed my education status from poor to meritorious one through sheer hard work, dedication & the Cottonian spirit instilled in me without losing my focus on sports. The results were, indeed, gratifying. 

Since I left the school couple of years before finishing, I was even more determined to give back to the School in any which way. After my return from London in 1969, I, along with Mr. R. S. Sawhney, who we lost very early, Ini Bawa, Jogi Kohli & others registered the OCA (India) as an association in 1969/70. Maj. General M.N. Batra, a senior distinguished OC was the unanimous choice as the president of the OCA. I have been associated with the school ever since my return from London in 1969, initially as the secretary & later as the President of the OCA (India). I wish to thank my friend Mr. Ravi Sawhney, the President – OCA India during the 80’s (now in Bangkok) for sharing the burden under difficult & frustrating times during Brig Mukand era. 

I also thank Mukhi & Sukhi for their hospitality and whose residence at Villette was raided by us frequently. I also thank Teji, whose residence at ‘Knollswood ‘was available with open arms to the OC’s. Both these Heritage Estates in Shimla were ‘homes away from home.’ For several years in the past, the premises at Plaza Cinema (Sawhney’s) and Bawa’s residence at 6 ,Hailey road were used for OCA meetings/ get- togethers till we moved our annual Lunch get-togethers to the splendid location of the Anand Group headquarters, at 1- Aurobindo Marg, courtesy Mr. Deep Anand (President Emeritus ), a very successful businessman, who will always be remembered for his advice at the Board & even otherwise for his generous financial support to BCS & his ever supporting wife Kiran towards the OCA fraternity. On behalf of myself & the OC’s we thank you sir for your unstinting support. 

I also wish to thank The Sawhney’s, R.S. & Jaspal & the Bawa’s Ini, Sweety & Lovely for their support & hospitality to OC’s at the premises at Plaza & 6 Hailey road respectively. A special mention to my friend late Col. S.M Jain (past President-OCA), who kept the OCA flag flying for many years, for his huge support to OCA & BCS whilst he was with the Anand Group. I wish to thank my Childhood friend & Cottonian Tunu Puri, for donating a large sum of money to the Samuel Foundation Trust (headquarters in Germany) to operate in Delhi where hundreds of women, mostly house-wives, were given the opportunity to be self-employed in making garments for their livelihood and which also gave them the recognition & respect from their husbands & in- law families. Thank you Tunu for imposing your faith in me and allowing me to partner you in this Philanthropy. 

I also wish to thank OCs Late Jasbir Sawhney, who helped the school with his Architectural excellence, Past Presidents of OCA (India) – B.M.Singh, Justice R.S. Sodhi, Sukhinder Singh, D.S Jaaj (was also the Schools’ auditor), Justice S.S. Saron, the current President Mr. Jaspal Sawhney & their team of Cottonians spread over all the chapters in India & abroad for their support. I also wish to thank my seniors, the legendary Virbhadra Singh, Chief Minister of Himachal for many years who was invited by school as chief guest on occasions, The Batras, Gen. Rawley (my neighbour), Chand Pasrich (past President – OCA), K.C. Anand, G.P. Singh, (The legendary Freddie Brown acknowledged G.P. as having the Best handwriting in School), N.D. Mehra, Soni, A. S. Dulat (Judy), Vishi Anand, Guri Sandhu.

I also wish to thank some of my colleagues who frequently attended the annual get togethers in yester years viz: Vijay Singh (Piloo), Mehra Bros., Vijay Khurana, H. Janartha (ex-member of the BOG-BCS ), Captain Vivek Bhasin (Sweden – who articulates the history of BCS better than anyone & narrates many nostalgic events of the school with flair & colour). Vivek has given much time to the school to provide courses to students on Etiquette etc., Chickoo Daljit Singh, Badal, Chetan Ahluwalia of pioneer sports, (key person in organising golf events for OC’s), Prem, Thomas Banon, Nakul Anand of ITC (who recently received the Hall Of Fame Award from the International Hospitality Council & whose good offices catered the Delicious Lunch at numerous Annual get togethers), Pillars of OCA – Ash. Virk, Vijay Singh, to name a few and of course many other old boys who have given much time & support for their Alma Mater. Forgive me if I have missed some names. 

Simultaneously, the OCA in London was galvanised during the 80’s through courtesy Anil Bhasin who hosted the annual get together lunch at his hotel on Half Moon street, off Green Park. Thank you, Anil, for rekindling the OCA- UK. Later the annual get togethers at London continued to be held each on the last Saturday of June each year, first under the Presidentship of the dynamic & pleasing personality Gay Niblett sir -member of the BOG -BCS & his charming wife Christine. Thereafter, the reigns were taken over by the President Kuljinder Singh Bahia of the famous South Hall Travels who achieved the heights of excellence in his successful travel & hospitality business. The dapper dressed Vivek Bhasin & my friend Raj Lamba (Whom I stayed with in Scotland), Padam Singh & Vinod Nanda were all there attending the annual get togethers at London. Bar a few years till covid, I attended the Annual Get togethers in London each year in June where I was privileged to meet also many of the legendary & Cottonian stalwarts like Arthur Jones, Lumbo Evans, The Krischner Brothers, Bob Myers, John Philips, John Whitmarsh Knight, Tony Sinha, Alan Bapty, Ken Richards, Behram Irani, Daljit Jaijee, Jogi Chahal and of course the ever-green Hindi speaking Peter Stringer. We must also thank Peter Stringer & his wife Margaret for their generosity in hosting lunch for some of us each year & set the ball rolling just before the annual Lunch get togethers. 

I know that friends made in boarding schools are invariably the only insurance policy one can rely on and I am indeed fortunate to still have a few, thank you, BCS.

NOSTALGIA & WAY FORWARD : Some of us do feel that the school up to the 50’s & early 60’s was at its pristine glory when standards & traditions remained high, but I feel nostalgia alone can turn toxic if we believe that the school has gotten worse. I agree that Parents’ expectations are high in today’s ever-changing education and digital environment and the school needs to focus more on Science/ technology including AI. Financial literacy is another area which we don’t teach in schools & should be part of the education system. Further, Chess through online classes can also be conveniently included in boarding schools. BCS needs to play a vital role in fostering an environment conducive to intellectual & social advancement by encouraging the faculty to innovate & develop new relevant courses that will push boundaries of knowledge & our heritage at the forefront of our students & make BCS a stronger brand. 

BCS is fortunate that the members of the board are all persons of proven track record in their respective field & I am indeed privileged to work with them & take this opportunity to thank them for their support. 

I know age is just a number but now that I am an Octavian and a proud great grandfather, I am doing my best to continue with the same gusto as before for the benefit of the school. Memories & habits in school are hard to die. I am still polishing my shoes, making my own bed & driving my car to office. I am happy for it and that keeps my reflexes in better shape. I do wish & hope that the old boys give their suggestions in any which way for the benefit of the school. Please write to the President OCA & based on merits of your proposals, I have no doubt that the School will look at these positively. 

In the end, with all humility, I thank the Board & BCS for recognising my services for over 30 years as Board member & as Chairman of the Finance Committee by conferring the prestigious “SPARTAN” at the recently concluded annual get together in February, 2024. This mail may also be taken on record as my formal set of brief achievements & my dedication to OCA & BCS collectively for 55 years since 1969 for being conferred this honour. 

Three Cheers for BCS. Best Wishes,
Anil Mehra (Dimpy)

After graduating as B.Com (Hons.) from Shri Ram College of Commerce, Delhi University, Anil Mehra qualified as a Chartered Accountant & is a Fellow Member of the Institute of Chartered Accountant of England & Wales and the Institute of Chartered Accountants in India.
He started his career with Thomson Press, Printing arm of the India Today Group, and Retired recently as Vice Chairman and Managing Director of the India Today Group, a Multimedia Group with over 47 years of association and continues as an Advisor to the India Today Group. 

He was Instrumental in creating various new generation businesses, spanning across Multimedia, Education, Finance, ecommerce and other business verticals. As a Professional his expertise lies in Financial Management, Tax Planning, Legal & Corporate Affairs and Corporate Structuring. He was Instrumental in creating various new generation businesses, spanning across Multimedia, Education, Finance, ecommerce and other business verticals. As a Professional his expertise lies in Financial Management, Tax Planning, Legal & Corporate Affairs and Corporate Structuring. He is a Governor/Trustee of leading Educational institutions & Director in companies. He has served as a Member, General Committee Co-Chairman Membership committee and Treasurer during 11-12, 12-13 of the Delhi Golf Club. 

He has served as Past President of Institute of Internal Auditors (Florida) Delhi Chapter, and currently is the President of Association of UK Chart & VED Accountants in India. Recently, he was privileged to be included in the Book “Building Strong Economies” launched by ICAEW in December 2017 as one of the achievers in India amongst members of ICAEW. 

Compiled by: Ash Virk

PDF File from Ashwani Virk attached here:
An accomplished Cottonian

Article on Fali Nariman’s school days at BCS

Posted by Mr. Lakhanpal on the OCA Mumbai Grp.
Sent by Ms. Deepa Kennedy.

Click for full view of photos

“Questions, Descriptions .. Answers and the Luminous Green Letters on white paperT R A L E E ( please..)- we pilgrim hitchhikers..”

Who are you
Why are you here
Where have you come from
Where to …you go ..
When did you smile
When did the rain fade away..
When did it return with a hush
When did the grass turn green lush
When too did the  🍀 🍀 turn green three n’four leaf…?
Questions ..
We stood on the edge of town
reminiscing
our days of flower children
hitching rides to Kathmandu and Manali
with floppy hats, medallions of peace, Hare Rama-Hare Krishna Kurtas, flares and kohlapuris…
hair of course-long as George the Harrison..
..we see another saintly soul with flowers long hair and bojangles
standing with his donkey 🫏 Jack.. a sad intelligent soul.. both waiting for nothing but unbelievable faith .. and a placard “ give Vietnam back to the Irish  🍀 “..
keeping demons at bay
with
green jolly giants they say..
.. Charles Manson was a monster ..
claimed he was a Michelin star chef who could make the best blue-cheese-celery-rocket-soup by wading through mountains of garbage and selecting the finest ingredients from the quagmire of insanity..just a cross jinxed thought that came to my mind .
as we waited and waited overtly patient for bus 266 that never came..
Kilfountain-Dingle-Castlemaine to Killarney was our route with the bus that never came ..
..now standing at the edge of town as pilgrims on Camino Road..
..fair chance nothing would happen ..
Yet.. a lady fair swung towards .. braking at the kerb..
Gods were kind to’erd us
Aye..she too was one
Yearning-welcoming-spirited on the road through the high mountain pass with curves n’ bends she drove towards Tra lí-Tralee ..
..teaching history with warmth n’smiles so Irish  🍀 🍀 🍀🇮🇪
Learnt much we did as the crisp cold air added to the lady’s love for country, cows, sheep, the mokes jacks and jennys..and folks and peregrinos we..
She-spoke-we-listened, descriptions and bands that rocked our soul ..
Ever-she-was-she-was a wonderful lady fair n’about the banshees, chieftains and Bally ..St Brendan the Navigator I mapped his voyages in my mariner’s compass…
.. all roads lead to the end to start again..
This-lady-fair-Irish-dame added pastel shades, old glacial lakes, the mountains, the dales…
Descriptions .
with some regret we arrived ..
with some regret we said adieu
we saw her leave on four wheels ..
we knew her name the first..
should we still search for her amongst the small wanderers
waiting for Answers..
or return to Dingle .. yet again
to miss the Bus to Killarney
we…waiting for her ..
on the road to Tralee..?

to a Pilgrim, A Goddess
to an Irish Brother Cottonian..
to that Lady-Fair-Irish-Dame..
her name was Gayle..

Bonnie “ Vivek “Bhasin
.. never STOP walking ..
7th May 2024

The morning is still velvety dark..
The storm has passed and a new moon appeared with Venus Arcturus Dubhe and Polaris
the darkness awakes the pilgrim..
he has been dreaming of the poppy fields the vineyards and the almond trees he saw yesterday as he walked in deep reflection..
Now this is a new start on a dark morning as he rises
His body a wee bent
it’s time to move on to a new end..
It’s time to walk further go higher ..
His body a wee bent
but as yet
His soul is intact ..
.. he never stops walking ..

Bonnie
On the path from Villafranca to Torremeija

The  2022  Winter Christmas Letter – someday we will return..

..loads of snow over Sweden
frozen lakes in January..
stubbornly determined long walks over ice I do trying to average around 13000 steps ..10km stubbornly determined
through pines those branches stooping low with the burden of snow ..stunning live beauty far far better than a photoshop postcard
looking up at the sky i see migratory birds in perfect line swooshing south to the wetlands of Africa and Bharatpur India
the ants have hunkered in their hills
Bjorn the bear too has dug deep and now snores gently .. a long winter…the reptilian folk too have sunk in deep … dandelions have withered and are iced !!
A yearly occurrence across yonder where I once grew up or should I say “in transition to Simla..”.. a sort of granted happening  ..a poisonous blanket of deadly chemicals stills and engulfs Delhi NCR with the highest levels of pollution! Debaters rest… Topics dissected yet still it’s blacker than that London Fog…..
Finally an accolade, a trophy, a massive Cup  made of garbage pollutants and acid is presented to the city of Delhi… a man in a black shroud with steam hissing out of his body staggers to the podium where three sparrows now blacked present  him the same as he lifts it up like Sir Lancelot and tries to say something inaudible in his hoarse voice ( later analysed as “ Yes Finally My City is the Number One Polluted City in the world ! Mission Accomplished!)… A Fireworks display !…from everywhere as Trucks Busses Tractors Motorcycles roar  up engines the black exhaust spews out to everywhere ..many vomit out  thick acrid black liquid and a song reverberates ..”Black is Black.. I want my Baby Back …”
is this the 21st century or are we back to a few hundred years ..?
Face masks always donned by the Far Easterners
Face masks during Corona
Face masks during the winter
Face masks during bright blue skies a rarity because then balls of heavy dust roll in from Rajasthan…
Rather confusing but one has to do what one has to do..
The day before yesterday’s generation is now more tranquil reflective and nostalgia a halo around them …
Too long in the tooth…?
Who knows .. but them crazy rocking days have come around full circle …
Crazy in words acts and deeds
Now crazy upstairs isn’t it?
We all did stuff in 2022 for the good the bad the mischievous and possibly the ugly…
January: a cold dark heavy difficult month
February: A golfing delight at ITC Classic with the young guns !
March : the ides of March beware … look around when he tread
April: The Aries .. My Mum turned 90
May: That hot sweltering month with salt loss as i trudged from Lisbon to the Cathedral Santiago de Compostela…heat stroke and possibly “C”.. tough but determined we Cottonians… a bonus was Porto a delightful town that I enjoyed in the company of fellow pilgrims .. 1.2 million steps 800 km
June: I returned to the Arctic Circle – Midsommar as Young fair maidens danced around the Summer Totem pole with flowers in their hair..
July: I met Christine and Gay Niblett at the Sloane Club and the fine gentleman Mike King
August: I returned to my native country and a small reunion at Tonino’s works wonders for the body, tonic for the soul…
September : Remember… I experience the last few drops of the monsoon ..
October : All over is what I learnt as Captain sailing in the Caribbean… All over .. the Hurricane season finally ended as it starts cooling in West Africa..
October was Mashobra and our BCS… The Slater’s.. XVth Anniversary ..*
November: The OCA week.. nostalgia personified..representing my Class of 1970.. Sunny crispy skies – Thank You Sardar Manav Singh.. the doft of pines drifting in through the picture windows.. Thank You Praveen, Dinesh, Rebecca,Rohit, HM John and Director Simon … your warmth and hospitality was incredibly genuine.. The Chapel glowing and I felt the immense vibrations as I spoke in our sacred place…
December: with -21C in 🇸🇪 Sweden saw me with my entire brood .. at Bharatgarh Fort Punjab, Thanks OC Gursagar, Deepinderji Gaurah Maninderji
.. and on to Rajasthan feeding elephants.. and the forts of Neemrana and Tijara..
Heralding in the New Year with deafening ear exploding cacophonous Bollywood unmelodious outpouring ( absolutely deafened.. but the DJ gave a rat’s ass to my request) …the grand babies rocked ..as the night sky over Chomu Palace lit up with bright sparklers … and then it was over ..
January again ..2023
taking long walks along the Klara River that meanders down from Norway.. I reflect on the tides of my life…
It’s so quiet after India …
an occasional sparrow searching for food grain so generously placed in the woods ..
Still too early for the birds to arrive ..though the ducks 🦆 never left ..they always stay..
Young children in thick winter overalls .. bright chirpy an occasional scream … they all look like trolls …
Whatever Whatever
What does it matter
It’s time to glide over the ice
until it melts and the sun gets warmer …
In the meantime we all hope
peace will return from those far places where turmoil rules…
We should all stand on the first flat and see the setting sun
whilst the lights of the hill train go past Tara Devi and disappear into the tunnel…
Someday
we all
will return …..

Karlstad Sweden 🇸🇪
Orange skies reflected on the Klaraälven River… last evening
Capt Vivek (Bonnie) Bhasin
Lefroy 1961-1970

—

Kindest Regards and Best Wishes,

Bonnie/Vivek Bhasin