Tag Archives: writer

Robin Gupta – book launch at Chandigarh

Dear Friends in the Tri city of Chandigarh Panchkula and Mohali; now Zirakpur too, I look forward to meeting you at the launch of my book titled ‘ The 70th Milestone ‘ on October the 1st , tomorrow, at the Chandigarh Press Club at 5.30 p m. Will be very happy to meet old Cottonians and Stephens alumni as well.

– Robin Gupta

On the WAY, the PATH, on the Camino to Santiago de Compostela

Vivek Bhasin : Extracts from my incredible 350 kilometers walk on the Camino Frances  “On the WAY, the PATH, on the Camino to Santiago de Compostela” 20 April 2018-02 May 2018Galicia, an autonomous community in Spain’s northwest, is a verdant region with an Atlantic coastline. The cathedral of regional capital Santiago de Compostela is the reputed burial place of the biblical apostle Saint James the Great, and the destination for those following the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage route. The western cliffs of Cape Finisterre were considered by the Romans to be the end of the known world. The Camino de Santiago (Latin: Peregrinatio Compostellana, “Pilgrimage of Compostela”; Galician: O Camiño de Santiago), known in English as the Way of Saint James ( and Jacobsweg in Swedish among other names, is a network of pilgrims’ ways serving pilgrimage to the shrine of the apostle Saint James the Great.   

Being neither wiser nor wittier, 19th April 2018 I departed Stockholm Sweden with some anxiety, apprehension and a little confused from both family and my own inner voice,  flying to Madrid Spain. That same evening I nearly missed the last train to Leon from ChaMartin a main line station in Madrid but thanks to a last minute cancellation I clambered on board with the last ticket and my rucksack.  It was around 2100 hrs when I arrived at Leon and searching, asking in broken espanol (Spanish) I finally located the Pilgrims office where I was officially given Peregrino Credencials, a special passport to trudge, stomp, heave, and surge my body towards Santiago de Compostela.  I was now a pilgrim and the geography of the region called me to start from Leon at 600m above sea level moving through various highs ( 1600m) and lows through Villadangos del Paramo, Astorga, Rabanal del Camino, Molinaseca, Cacabelos, Vega del Valcarce, Fonfria, Samos, Mogarde, Castromaior, Casanova, Arzua, St.Irene and finally Santiago de Compostela. I worked an ETA ( expected time of arrival ) as 3rd May 2018 into Santiago but with the weather gods predicting snow, hail, hard sunshine, hard rain, fog, low clouds, strong winds I urged myself to prepone my arrival a day earlier…02 May 2018.

… 20 April 2018 on the Camino..

There are many ways to lead you to the creator.. some indulge in studies of the divine, others wait to be preached, many sit on the banks of the Ganges whilst some on the Himalayan peaks communicating with powerful in chants and prayers and telepathy; many prostrate along the road full length and the repeat this from toe to hair a million times towards their true belief …

..and there are some like me; a trickling faith, a hundred temples and over three thousand chapel prayers at the Holy Trinity Chapel BCS and still I never got it…

The path from Leon to Astorga and the walk at 0710 this morning… I followed the yellow shell, the pilgrim with his staff bent forward, determined.. I followed the road and only once glanced back at the spires of the Cathedral at Astorga.. I never looked back but yet my psyche was not fully impressed with my faith nor was I sure of the end..

as someone told me.. “ never venture, never win “but is this really a win ?( a flood of memories and then a stillness ..)

When I looked back again.. all I saw was the sky turned red and the sun lifting upwards…

This is no game, no gold medal no pat on my back.. this is a path of true reflection; I follow my own … looking at the ground that changes from asphalt to stone and pebble and grass and back to stone … my shell and I, on the road to Rabanal del Camino…

 

Every evening I stopped to seek shelter…I lived in Church wings, monasteries, and pilgrim hostels called albergues…some were donativos ( you give a donation of a few euros and they allow you to rest your bruised body….. sometimes 60 of us wheezing, snorting and snoring…this was co-ed, yes we men and them women sleeping next to each other ( okay separate beds!) no adverse thoughts, never…. just a beautiful congregation of souls and that is what mattered….each on a camino….a path ..a way.

I carried my body forward in slow steps and then at the summit appear to stand tall, looking at the horizon, but many weaknesses arise within me… will I be someone else tomorrow and the day after ? Only the Camino will speak to me and finally tell me .. or will it?

On the Camino 23 April..(4th day…)

There was thunder lightning and heavy rain last night at Molinaseca.. (I arrived on 22nd April 2018 after a most difficult walk…up steep gradients, down slippery and dangerously wet slopes with huge slippery rocks, my knees took a pounding, feet swollen and hurting as I limped in to  town) .. but today when I awoke in the dark at 0530 .. I saw 2 French Ladies in a hurry .. packing their “mochilas/rucksacks” with head lamps .. whispering in French …they were in a hurry and their briskness got me to lift my body after a hard sleep ..severe pain.

I hit the road 25 minutes later on the road to Cacabelos…The road was hard , the feet pounding … but the sweet cuckoo encouraged my drag to proper steps ..Alessandro the Brazilian was ahead and so was David from Barcelona …and 8 Km to Poneferrida …

I met many amazing peregrinos on the road to Santiago de Compostela ..Mat from England, Als from Holland, Trevor from Australia, Steve from the US.. ( ex Caterpillar engines been to India often.. he looked like Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam.. )Steig from Copenhagen who stopped every 45 minutes to gulp a pint, a glass of vino tinto and smoke cigarettes, a sprightly young lady from Edinburgh, Vaarik  from Lithuania, Juan Franco from Milan, Melanie from Germany, Lorenzo Grossi from Turino, Benedict  a young handsome dude from Frankfurt; he walked into the Albergue Fonfria at 2200 hrs, stripped down to his boxers, took a shower, spent another 2 hrs in meditation…by 0300 he was gone into the fog. I met Tina and Alexandra from Riga, Jessica from Germany too; I even met Senor Picasso, Ms. Galicia future Ms. Spain for Miss Universe, a mature and super intelligent ex.Ms.Greece who represented her country in Rio 20 years ago, young and bubbly Isabela a Danish flicka on her gap year walking fast and furiously and fabulously. I met  beautiful and intelligent Lady Regine at Vega de Valcarce, we had crossed paths earlier as I was always sitting somewhere panting out of breath as she passed me…but that evening she was in the same restaurant having a pilgrims meal and we talked about life and the camino for many many hours…Regine had come to the end of her camino and was breaking away at O’Cebriero the next morning; we lost each other on the path the next morning but met at the point outside the Church of O’Cebriero…she was someone very special on the camino…And Don O’Sullivan a fantastic person, a fantastically genuine person. Thanks Dan! Namaskar.

And I also met this guy ……I met “myself” and we talked of many things on the camino… materialistic and spiritual…I argued and once shouting at myself I ran short of breath; the body pleaded I needed to rest and so I did on a huge rock to calm myself …….and yes I did ..

As I walked through vineyards and even encountered a one-eyed cat… my feet aching … my body sweating…I still kept asking myself.. why but why..? Even Alessandro asked me what is my Camino ..to be truthful I still don’t know, except I wanted my body to hurt at all points and see it heal when I lay down at night to brace another day on this amazing Camino ..

Days went by….at the point of crossing into Galicia I was walking on the ridge of the mountain with the sun rising on my back; the camino walks westward. Ahead the sky was white with low clouds; the chilly blast sensed approaching rain, yet the Gods did not ordain this; instead the clouds stooped low and enshrouded me , the iciness  caressing my face and neck like freezing smooth velvet.

….Then I walked out of the cotton into bright sunshine and entered Galicia and amongst the richness of its natural beauty, encountering quaint villages, cows with bells, beautiful noble horses, sheep, pigs, dogs, cats and chickens ( and even 2 hissing snakes) I trampled over fallen pine cones, hard sharp stones, crossed streams, stepped on cow manure and mud and slush…. up the hills and down into vales, walking in country lanes, past vineyards, along the main autopistas ( the main highways)  , crossing fields and cutting through hedges, an entire forest blackened due to forest fires in some past hot summer.. and getting lost for hours as I could not find the yellow arrow, the stone with the yellow shell…….I felt the reverberations and the power of the Camino…on which for thousands of years pilgrims had walked the same way…plodding westward to the Cathedral…..   

The Arrival

..and finally on 02 May 2018 I entered the outer limits of Santiago de Compostela….the excruciating pain in my legs, my knee caps appeared to have drifted and I was limping. But I saw the twin spires in the distance and I knew my time was nigh. At 1415 hrs, walking in slow steps and panting I walked through the tunnel where a bagpiper played his tune….i closed my eyes and saw the world spinning by….and suddenly I was there at the massive courtyard and the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela…

Dropping to my knees…my eyes closed..the tears ran freely as I heard a voice…”Bienvenido Peregrino”..Welcome Pilgrim…!

( At mass that evening the priest announced…among the many nationalities of pilgrims that arrived today…” one pilgrim arrived from India and Sweden”…that for me for said enough).

(The local newspaper El Correo Gallego of Santiago de Compostela, tracked me asleep at the Seminario de Menor and flooded me with questions.  Why a 62 year old Indian Sea Captain having visited 120 countries wanted to walk the Camino…? Responding…The Camino was a path my wife and I had read about, I dreamt about and wished to be a part of my life; the thought of walking that difficult path was frightening. Many a pilgrim has broken a leg, smashing faces and splitting open knees; many young, fit and able start with great gusto and get spent within a few days, returning home. I walked the Camino with great conviction in my mind and soul and a great power walked with me and protected me. I could feel it on the journey.. The photograph and the write-up on Captain Vivek Bhasin , Old Cottonian was viewed by one and many on 4th May 2018.

The Mariner Vivek Bhasin having lived an intensive life through 120 countries finds this path-the way on an incredible walk ( 350 km) to Santiago de Compostela.

And a few hours later as I walked within the old city I met Gandhi! 

Gandhi handed me a note…” there is more to life than increasing its speed……..”

At Seminario de Menor Santiago de Compostela (5th May 2018: The Departure)

… I got up this morning at 0400 hrs exhausted … the exhaustion was not because of 18 days on the road since Sweden nor due to the completion of the 350 Km walk on Camino Frances and arriving at Santiago de Campostela ( actually in a fairly good physical state.). nor was it due to a flood of memories ( some were so specific that one even lasted an entire 10 minutes … as I unreeled the camera in my mind departing Monasterio Samos and the immediate start of a sharp gradient a steep hard uphill track towards Sarria… it was cold and wet and dark as I pushed upwards …every step had to be secure, no error as the stones were loose , wet and slippery and I could have fallen on my face and all my teeth shattered !..the forest was silent …except for my rapid breath and the fog that formed every time I exhaled ; the effort to reach the top took 105 excruciating minutes; my feet pounding and my body lurching forward, my eyes wide open and my soul..searching. Yes 10 minutes of concentration ignited the inner camera as I recollected that stage of the Camino…

No no.. my exhaustion came on as I stopped the camera in my mind …the exhausted system of mine increased when I left the Seminario Menor, the world of the Camino I was leaving, and returning to the hard road of the world I was going back to…. an immense hollow feeling created this tiredness..I felt concerned on how would the days ahead unfold… was I to immediately transform to the normality of sorts? … as the many sunsets would create flashes of blue on the horizon with calmer stillness so would the ache in my legs and my swollen feet subside, and …

I would re-emerge as another pedestrian in the maddening crowds of the world but with the security and sanctity of always keeping the Camino, the path , the way to Santiago de Campostela within me… and I will smile.

Conclusion ( Sweden 8th May 2018)

I was away from the  pace of today’s electronic and fast moving world where pressures are there to perform beyond your maximum heat beat.. stress is “in” …where people compete on how many million “ FRIENDS… (Friends??!)“ you have on face book but not a single genuine friend … the mobile is a bigger addiction than marijuana and cocaine … and you either survive after multiple heart attacks to increase your bottom line in the Corporate world or commit some other drastic act…

The Camino brings you back to great sensibility ….and you speak .. the Camino answers. away from the artificial jokes, scandals and corruption of the world..

I at least realised how Beautiful life is… on that Beautiful sometimes treacherous route..

I thank my immediate family ( Ann-Sofie , Dhani , Radhika, Daniel, Olivia, Jiv) my parents, my 3 Mums, my grandmother, my blood brother Sharat..and my  cousins … all of you…and some very special people I met in the 120 countries and on the Camino..

I am ferociously grateful to my Alma mater Bishop Cotton School Simla ( I wore the BCS Hat every evening on the Camino)…to all those who’ve gone before and those who’ve yet to come …. I learnt to convert happiness from loneliness, work and play under Team Lefroy and Team BCS…and go out to face the world, a world … at many stages, of scorn, rage, envy but with my solid foundation from all of the above mentioned … I sieved away those who created negative vibrations in me; you don’t need 16 Million Facebook friends in E-Space… you need a handful whom you can speak to, touch feel and love…

Donation:

I donated a feather pillow at Seminario de Menor, Santiago de Compostela (SdeC)

…..May many  pilgrims on the ultimate arrival at SdeC get an opportunity to lay their heads down on the pillow sinking into the luxurious richness of feathers .. turning on their sides the pillow adjusts to accommodate their necks … closing their eyes may they open their inner vision to the path… the way… the Camino to Santiago de Compostela.. that an Indian -Swedish Sea Captain, a son of Bishop Cotton School… too walked in another world, their world… a more beautiful world…. that stays calling.. calling him to come back…..

Vivek Bhasin

Lefroy 1961-1970

(walked an average of 27 km every day for 13 days..)

  

Additional photographs…and additional Thanks….
[all pictures can be clicked for a larger view]

I must expressively Thank the following.. without whom I would have surely failed

🙏 : 

  • BCS: School Cap
  • H&M (Label of Graded Goods):check shirt/maroon pants/grey jogging pants
  • Mizuno : Walking water proof shoes
  • No Name: Bath Slippers
  • Dobber : All weather jacket
  • Wenger: Rucksack
  • Happy Socks: Socks
  • El Corte Ingles:Belt
  • Björn Borg : Boxers
  • Jockey : undervest
  • Levi’s: Sweatshirt
  • Timex: Wrist watch with luminous dial so I could rise at 0500
  • Nano-b: Toothbrush
  • Folk:Toothpaste
  • Negro Jabon: Soap
  • Interprox : Inter dental brush
  • Profimed : Dental Floss
  • XXL: Cotton sleeping case
  • XXL: Trekking Towel
  • Spanish Vaseline
  • Mum’s Mustard Oil ( Calcutta)
  • Costa Rica : Bandana
  • Dhani : Rain Sheet
  • Dhani: Cotton /Linen stole
  • Trigger: Walking Sticks
  • Camino: Weather Hat
  • Olivia’s woollen gloves
  • Ray Ban: Specs/Shades
  • Samahan: Herbal powder
  • Peder Persson: Hunter’s survival bag
  • .. my hair brush..

AMEN

Vivek Bhasin writes again “Dear Headmaster Sir”

Good Evening to you.

It’s late at night and I shiver with excitement ( the crispness of November adds a zest of life running through my body..)sitting on my bed in the Sixth Form cubicle writing to you..

It’s surely is the last day of the year or sooner than later it is.. I stare out at the glow of the First Flat and through the Tara Devi gap I see lights twinkling…

It’s quiet in the dorms as lights out happened many hours ago; Lefroy House Master completed his rounds seeing us all tucked in. I should be in cloud cuckoo land but the radium in my watch casts a green glow under the quilt and I struggle to sit up and grab pen and paper..

Another nine months went rolling by Sir. I am now an inch taller and all my gym shoes are holed. My tie is hanging on the peg; last untied was never. The loop slips past my head and I tighten it; that’s at least 60 seconds of effort saved for 60 seconds of extra sleep..

I think back hard on the days that went; yes coming full circle from winter kit past summer kit to winter kit again. It’s time to go down to the plains and the maddening crowds; the trains and buses and lanes and by lanes. Last Saturday’s movie at Irwin Hall was aptly named “ Home from the Hills”… I must confess Sir, with exams all over, my steel trunk packed locked and sealed; loaded on the truck must be halfway to Calcutta ! …Yes Sir I must admit our gang was out about town and we saw two movies; one at Regal the Two to Five Dr Zhivago ( at interval the hall played The Stones Jumpin’ Jack Flash); we then ran back to School for Supper and caught the movie in the Irwin Hall; we panted past Sudden Death and screamed through the Mall to see the Ten to One with a new phenomenon called Rajesh Khanna in “ Aradhana”… later we crept back via Knollswood on the short cut so sure footed back to School. Three films later a bloody splitting headache I must confess to.

I must confess again for the record I was on your walnut tree; no walnuts but orange coloured hands and my knees bruised.

My Grandma returned to Delhi after bathing and adorning new clothes to the Gods at Kali Bari, Prospect Hill and Jakoo… she was my local Guardian since I was five in Linlithgow Sir; you granted me “ sleeping out” once a month so I could trundle up to see her… my Father had an account set up for me at Gainda Mull… I could buy goodies like fruit gums, fruitella and condensed milk for five rupees at every town leave and sign for the good stuff … that’s where I learnt how to sign my name with great flourish..

On other weekends my Grandma came down to see me; we we were seen picnicking at Council Rock; I was barely five. When she left in October the last four weeks were rather lonely but Jai Singh the local baker at J.B. Mangaram always met me at the school gate with a freshly baked muffin! He truly was a great saviour those last four weeks Sir..

The twinkling lights at the gap suddenly fade and are gone.. it’s School Party to Calcutta.. it’s always been the Kalka-Howrah Mail Sir..

But a certain yearning becomes an ache .. a confused ache. I strain to understand what my body is saying… on one end it’s the pull towards my parents in Calcutta … after nine months.

There is a certain steadfastness, a magnet pull beneath the steel bed, the voices of all the guys on the first flat, the Irwin Hall and in unison in the Holy Trinity Chapel of ours…

It’s the next day Sir; a new day.

It’s time to leave with my bedding roll and attaché case Sir.

I am writing to let you know, I am leaving…A final Goodbye Sir.

But I left a part of my soul, my strength ..in Bishop Cotton School.

Vivek Bhasin
Lefroy House
Class of 1970

The Great Himalaya and Our Bishop Cotton School

The Great Himalaya

No other range can match the lofty grandeur, the immense heights and the diversity in flora and fauna from the foothills to Kanchenjunga , to Mount Kailash to Mount Everest to

Bishop Cotton School….. which is at a mere 2300 metres or so but its perch, its architectural and geographical position were set to get maximum strength from the Sun God, pay obeisance when he sets across the Tara Devi Gap and a million stars appearing and the Moon illuminating the school, setting the 2nd and 3rd flats on a silver blaze. Besides Sports and Academics emphasis was on the pure Himalayan air, the smells of pine that was tonic to our growing years.

As a Third Former I used to creep across to the benches and strain my eyes and ears towards the gap wanting to know if my Mum and Pa thought of me every moment the way I did about them.Far away in Calcutta..

Having sailed the seas and touched every continent, driven across the Andes, The Rockies and the Alps my final return was always the Great Himalaya. Here New Monasteries, Temples, Pagodas, Mosques and Churches have come up yet I know our School Chapel stays unmatched in beauty and splendour. Being a Saprano in the Choir I had Adams, Dehlvi, Singhs, Bhasins , Tippakorn and Pandit all singing in unison to the hymns and psalms everyday.

Our School touched our lives and has stood entrenched in the soul of the mighty mountain range. It is there waiting with open arms for every Cottonian to come back today tomorrow or whenever..

We Cottonians are Blessed to have merged our soul with the Great Himalaya.

Vivek Bhasin

Lefroy 1961-1970

Mirrored Reflections and Reflections of the Soul

Mirrored Reflections and Reflections of the Soul

From the very instant I arrived in this world way way back, yesterday felt like yesterday.
Many I met along the road were mere travelers and others with whom I cemented relationships; at least I tried to, but heavy landings on the runway did bring cracks which again need repair, patience and hard work to bind together.
Reflections do sharpen the Brain as now you would capture the essence on your iPhone but during those misty years, the camera roll stayed within your head and now the urge to speak out..

  • From chipping rust on rotten decks off at Tripoli Libya and the scorching sun 52 C.
  • Hiding behind curtains –something like a stick in the school dining hall with Mum in panic.
  • Eating Shark Meat with that lady Security Guard on a full moon at Hamilton Bermuda
  • Obliged to a Vietnam veteran who saved my ass at Brooklyn
  • Stunned at the flash of green at a Caribbean sunset.
  • Dancing the Salsa at El Rodadero Colombia
  • Watching Van Halen Rocking the House at Madison City Gardens
  • Taking the Greyhound from Baltimore to Washington with a sneak at the White House
  • Feeling the house shake and tremble at San Jose Costa Rica
  • And later sitting under a Guanacaste Tree at Guanacaste
  • Sampling vino at Los Andes Chile
  • Buying my first pair of Levi’s in Las Palmas
  • Hearing the sound of Led Zeppelin Houses of the Holy that made me a Rocker.
  • Negotiating the Panama Canal and anchoring at Gatun Lake in transit.
  • Meeting the High End executives at World Trade Centre NYC with my wife
  • Slipping through and attempted mugging at Rotterdam
  • And another at Defence Colony Delhi
  • Visiting our small plot of land at Bishnupur with my Dad-abound with coconuts
  • Smelling the smoke fires at Bursa Turkey
  • Dancing with Russian Devooshkasa on a summer’s evening at Kherson USSR
  • Hearing Michael Jackson’s ‘Don’t stop till you get enuf’ at the 40 Thieves Club
  • Taking the Children to grill sausages in off the Vanern Lake Karlstad
  • Buying my First Opel Ascona and visting Bunty Bhullar at Cardiff.
  • Breaking my first golf club at the Golf Course in Jamshedpur
  • And watching 2 elks staring at us as I played gold at 0100 with my Father in law on Midsummer Sweden
  • Going Fishing off the Coast of Sudan
  • My first cufflinks at Aden
  • Eating Shrimp at Maputo with a rich Indian Dude whose sister had to escape from the clutches of Adi Amin
  • Having Dinner with the Joud Brothers at their palace in Lattakia Syria
  • Reaching Nagarkot with 2 Swedish damsels and my Mum!
  • Seeing the biggest biggest sunflower fields on the train from Buenos Aires to Rosario, Argentina
  • Safely making the Valhalla exchange between Guatemala and El Salvador
  • Taking refuge south of Nisos Psara as my ship was getting hammered by tumultuous waves and swell.
  • My Mum teaching me to drive in my Dad’s immaculate Fiat 1100
  • Watching my Dad ship handling mine as we worked our way from Sandheads
  • Walking from Southlands to Weybridge Station, Surrey
  • Sailing over London on the London Eye
  • Eating the best bread, cheese and ham at Burrough’s market, London
  • Walking with Sam Aas through Hempstead Heath.
  • Watching my daughter releasing white pigeons at Neemrana
  • They found their way back to Bishop Cotton School.
  • The Albatross guiding me like a sentinel through the Straits of Magellan
  • Getting even more inclined towards Hard Rock
  • Having a Picnic with my Brother and our Grand Mum at Council Rock
  • Taking my Mum to Wagah Border
  • Buying 3-dimensional stamps at in Bhutan
  • Having the best grub at a family stall in Singapore
  • Buying my first Italian jacket in Genoa, Italia
  • Walking marble sidewalks in Marina de Carrara, Italia
  • A tricky situation in the Straits of Messina, Sicily
  • Watching my daughter performing in a Midsummer’s Night Dream, Karlstad Sweden
  • Sweden teaching me respect, tolerance, organization and genuine nobel peace
  • Watching the monsoon clouds rushing into the valley at Mashobra
  • Looking at West Berlin from East Berlin and the Berlin Wall
  • Taking a stroll with the family in Barcelona, Esopana
  • Enjoying Lamb Chops with Gay Niblett at Valdemossa, Mallorca
  • Getting a compliment from 3 ladies off the Imperial War Museum London
  • Handing over the realms of the OCA (UK) to TOP DUDE Kuljinder Bahia
  • Getting hammered on my left outer thigh by mad golf ball at Naldhera
  • As that lost intoxicated Lover played his flute amongst the pines
  • Walking through Tea Plantations at Sangsua, Assam
  • And helping Senor Marino Urena with his coffee cosecha at Santa Maria de Dota, Costa Rica
  • White water rafting at Reventazon Costa Rica
  • A flying kiss to M.V Santa Marta from my M.V.Cartagena off Guantanamo Cuba

I THINK I WILL CONTINUE WITH MY REFLECTIONS …AS I ENJOY THE COMPANY OF MY TWO YEAR OLD GRAND DAUGHTER.

As Mr Bob Marley said:
‘’..don’t gain the world and lose your soul
Wisdom is better than silver or gold..’’

I thanked my Mother for giving birth to me as I turned 60 yesterday.

Vivek Bhasin
Lefroy 1961-1970

“They don’t kiss in the movies” – chapter 1

I had written a novel “They don’t kiss in the movies“.  It talks of my first two weeks at BCS in 1948.  The book is self-published and is available only through me.

Here is chapter I. The book is a love story, set in India in the early 1950s. It was a time of innocence and the newly-independent country was young. Most of the action occurs in Solan – there is the romance and there is much discussion of God and the scriptures, both pro and con.

Some of the chapters are autobiographical, such as the 1947 riots and chapter I, and some are biographical, such as the war in Burma. The rest is fiction with a big dose
of wishful thinking. The book is a serious attempt at tackling God and atheism.

Gurdip S. Sidhu, MD

[Editor: Gurdip Sidhu (Sidhu II) was at BCS 1948-1951 in Lefroy House. A pathologist, he lives in Harrington Park USA]

1
Hoisting skis to shoulders, we walked back the five hundred odd yards to the inn. Yesterday’s storm and today’s warm sun had conjured up a skier’s dream – two tired bodies now reveled in the most desirable languor. Showered, dressed, they sat an hour later in a dimly lit, hospitable, warm dining room. Outside, the neon sign glowed in the lowering fog. “The Inn At whiteface Mountain,’ it said. Red, green, empty wine bottles shone dimly along the windows, logs crackled in the fireplace, and soft voices drifted across from other tables. Love and magic hung in the air. My gaze drifted past red liquid in wine glasses, losing itself in limpid, brown womanly eyes casting irresistible spells from across the table . . . she was an apsara, I was sure – one of those heavenly nymphs who entertain the gods – or a houri straight from Paradise. I had chased her all day down the snowy slopes and would follow her again soon to the room. But she had other plans . . . slowly, hypnotically, such are the ways of apsaras and houris and the cruel lure of the past, I was drawn ever back in time, back back back, tumbling through memories long forgotten, to a time when life was melancholy, and I was just a boy in India. Red wine, evening magic, limpid brown eyes, crackling firelogs, drifting voices, they all conspired and I yielded: memories arose from the depths, unfolding relentlessly. More wine, more eyes, more magic, and . . . I was revisiting history. Continue reading →

Partap Sharma – Biography

Partap Sharma [Curzon 1950-54] passed away on 30th November 2011. Known as the Golden Voice of India, Partap was always warm, encouraging and inspirational. The world will be sadder without him but greater for his contributions.

A Touch of Brightness: Biography of Partap Sharma

Partap Sharma: playwright, author, actor, director and commentator.

Partap Sharma born December 12, 1939 is an Indian playwright, novelist, author of books for children, commentator, actor and documentary film-maker. A gifted writer, Sharma covers a wide range of subjects and perspectives, and as a master craftsman delivers intricate ideas simply. Like Mahatma Gandhi, the subject of one of Sharma’s most applauded plays “Sammy!” Sharma found that uncovering the truth was not always popular. In Contemporary Authors Sharma explains: “Stories are perhaps a way of making more coherent and comprehensible the bewildering complexity of the world. I learn and discover as I write and I try to share what I have understood. This began with me when I was a child, before I could read, and when I needed to deduce a story to explain the pictures in a book. But that is just the technique; the aim is to uncover an aspect of the truth. The truth isn’t always palatable. Two of my documentaries and a play were, at various times, banned. The High Court reversed the ban on the play; it is now a text in three Indian universities and has been the subject of a doctoral thesis in drama at Utah University.”

Background

Sharma was born in Lahore which was then part of India and is the oldest son of Dr. Baij Nath Sharma and Dayawati (Pandit) Sharma. Sharma’s father was a civil engineer who served as Technical Advisor to governments in Ceylon, Tanganyika and Libya and later retired to their ancestral property in Punjab as a gentleman farmer. This colourful Punjabi village forms much of the backdrop of Sharma’s novel, Days of the Turban. Sharma’s early education was in Trinity College, Kandy, Ceylon (now Sri Lanka) and then at Bishop Cotton School, Shimla. Sharma received a triple promotion and completed school at 14 before going to study at St. Xavier’s College, Bombay mainly because all other universities in India required a minimum age of 16. He is married to Susan Amanda Pick, they have two daughters: Namrita and Tara. Tara is, of course, known to many as the beautiful Bollywood actress, Tara Sharma. Sharma’s association with the Indian National Theatre, Mumbai, began in 1961 with the production by it of his first full-length play “Bars Invisible” and continued till the eventual production of the banned “A Touch of Brightness.” While working at his writing, Sharma freelanced as a narrator for short films and newsreels. In due course, he also directed a few documentaries for the Government of India. He was TV host of the popular programme “What’s the Good Word?” produced by Television Centre, Mumbai. One of India’s leading voices heard in narrations and commentaries on film, radio and TV, he has voiced many national and international award-winning documentaries and short films. He is known as the golden voice of India, and has often been referred to in the Press as simply ‘The Voice’. He is the voice on most of the Son et lumière shows produced in India, including the one still running forty years later, at the Delhi Fort, in Delhi.

Writings

Books

  • The Surangini Tales
  • Dog Detective Ranjha
  • The Little Master of the Elephant
  • Top Dog
  • Days of the Turban
  • A Touch of Brightness
  • Zen Katha
  • Sammy!
  • Begum Sumroo

Staged Plays

  • Brothers Under The Skin (1956)
  • Bars Invisible (1961)
  • A Touch Of Brightness (1965)
  • The Word (1966)
  • The Professor Has A Warcry (1970)
  • Queen Bee (1976)
  • Power Play (1991)
  • Begum Sumroo (1997)
  • Zen Katha (2004)
  • SAMMY! (2005)

Documentaries and Films

Partap Sharma has directed some outstanding documentaries, as independent producer and for the Government of India’s Films Division, and Channel Four Television, U.K. His film credits include:

Documentaries

  • The Framework Of Famine, 1967, an investigation of how nature’s devastation is compounded by human corruption and inefficiency; banned for it’s “ruthless candour” then released after other documentary-makers protested.
  • The Flickering Flame, 1974, a study of the mismanagement of the energy crisis and its effect on the suburban housewife; banned and never released.
  • Kamli, 1976, a short film depicting the status of women in rural Indian society.
  • The Empty Hand, 1982, (co-directed) a prize-winning audiovisual about the art of karate.
  • Viewpoint Amritsar, 1984, co-directed a film about the Golden Temple and environs in the aftermath of Operation Bluestar.
  • The British Raj Through Indian Eyes, 1992, a documentary series telecast in 1992 by Channel Four Television UK.
    Part I: The Uprising of 1857.
    Part II: The Massacre at Jallianwallah Bagh 1919.
    The museum of the British Empire and Commonwealth, in Bristol, now has a permanent section entitled The Sharma Archive consisting of 30 video and 67 audio tapes made by Partap Sharma. Interviews and footage of Indian nationalists, freedom fighters and writers. Indian perspectives on the Raj. Some transcripts available (CDs, Videos and Cassettes).
  • Sailing Around The World And Discover America Yachting Rally, two video programmes directed by Sandhya Divecha and produced by Sharma’s Indofocus Films Pvt. Ltd. British Raj Hindustani Nazron Se, 1995-98, A Hindi TV Serial.

Children’s Film

  • The Case Of The Hidden Ear-Ring, 1983

Feature Films

As an actor Sharma played a role in the Merchant-Ivory film “Shakespearewallah”. Other films include the lead role in the following Hindi films:

  • Phir Bhi (1971)
  • Andolan (1975)
  • Tyaag Patra (1980)
  • Pehla Kadam (1980)
  • Nehru – The Jewel of India (1989)
  • The Bandung Sonata (2002) Filmed in China, Sharma played Nehru in this international film which was subsequently re-titled for release in China as Chou-en-Lai in Bandung.

Awards and Honours

  • Sharma’s literary genius was recognized at an early age, and he won numerous first prizes in school and university in debating, elocution and acting including first prize at the All India Inter-University Youth Festival, Delhi, in 1958.
  • 1971 National Award for the lead role in the feature film “Phir Bhi” which also won the National Award for the best Hindi film of the year.
  • Cleo Award U.S.A for best voice.
  • 1976 RAPA First Prize for best voice in radio spots.
  • 1992 the “Hamid Sayani” Trophy for a lifetime of all-round excellence in radio and television.
  • 2000 Ad Club of Mumbai Award for Lifetime Contribution to Advertising.
  • 2004 the “Dadasaheb Phalke Award” with the citation ‘the voice of India’ on behalf of 35 associations of professional cine workers representing all branches of the Indian film industry.

Biographical References

  • India Who’s Who, Infa publications, India.
  • Contemporary Authors, Gale Research Company, Detroit, U.S.A.
  • Asia’s Who’s Who, Asian Publishing House, India.
  • Dictionary Of International Biography, International Biographical Centre, Cambridge, England.

The real complete  man.
Malavika Sangghvi /   Mumbai December 03, 2011, 0:42 IST

Partap Sharma, who died this week, was a polymath: author, playwright, documentary filmmaker, anchor, actor, voice-over artist and more. His titles were many, but it is for other qualities that I would like to remember him today.
The first is courage. When his award winning play, A Touch of Brightness, was prevented by a regressive state from leaving India to perform abroad, Partap, refusing to be cowed down, engaged Soli Sorabjee to argue his case. They won the case — seven years later — and the play about a woman in Mumbai’s red light area went on to get international success and recognition.
That should have been ample evidence of Partap’s grit: nine years ago, after he was struck down by a debilitating attack of chronic obstructive pulmonary disease and emphysema which left him wheel-chair bound and in need of a constant supply of oxygen, Partap once again refused to allow circumstances to dictate his story. He went on to record Macbeth, Julius Caesar and The Merchant of Venice in his famous voice, enacting all the parts — even the female ones!
More inspiring was the fact that this man, struggling to breathe, began to sing! “I always had an ear for music, but when I was told that it would be therapeutic for my lungs I started learning it seriously and the result was a series of songs for my family which have been collected as ‘Home Songs’.”
If courage was his anthem, humility was his calling card. Partap wore his achievements and accolades (a Dada Saheb Phalke, a National Film award, a Thespo lifetime achievement award) lightly. Struggling to speak from his hospital bed while receiving yet another award (this time from Dr Vijaya Mehta) it was edifying to hear him say, “People should look for the affirmative in every creative work that they critique, so that the creator gets encouraged.”
Partap himself was nothing if not encouraging, his lovely home by the sea was open to all: celebrated litterateurs along with struggling poets, confused writers, footloose students and hungry neighbours.
If these qualities were enough to make him larger than life, it was his swashbuckling sense of self-actualisation and adventure that made him a hero to many. He was a black-belt Karate expert, a rider of bare back horses, a solver of neighbourhood crimes with his famous Alsatian Ranjha of the “Dog Detective series”, the owner of a magnificently restored shiny black Mercedes-Benz, an above-average chess player, an aficionado of books and ideas, and a lover of Mahabaleshwar where he would disappear for long writing spells. I could go on. But suffice to say that the copywriter who came up with the “Complete Man” sign off, could well have had Partap in mind. But that is not all. Above all, it was for Partap’s qualities of decency and grace that he will be cherished, His human qualities outstripped his considerable material and creative success. It is fitting that he died surrounded by his daughters, the lovely Namrita and Tara, and their families, his many friends and in the arms of his devoted wife-comrade-companion and champion Sue. Two days before he died, I met her at his bedside in the ICU. I remember thinking that she had gazed at him and stroked his face with the tenderness and love of a young bride.
Every man should aspire to live and die like that.

[Vijay Khurana adds: For those of you have lived or know Bombay, Malavika Sangghvi is the daughter of Mrs Khanna who ran Samovar at the Jehangir Art Gallery at Kala Ghoda. Partap’s daughter Tara Sharma is the well known actress.]

The Biography is an extract from http://www.partapsharma.com/, where you can read more about this great man.

EDITOR May 28th 2012
Here is a letter from Tara, Partap’s daughter :

Thank you so much for your kind words about Dad. As you can imagine it’s devastating for us but I truly believe Daddy is with us always and it is only the body that is resting. Words cannot express how much Daddy means to me and us as a family and how inspirational, brave and loving he was and is. He touched so many lives and his rich legacy continues to do so. I write about Daddy often on my blog www.tarasharmashow.com and am grateful he got to meet both my kids and he knew my sister Namrita’s baby was soon to be born. On behalf of my Mum Sue, sister and our husbands and kids thank you and do keep writing your thoughts on Dad to me, it helps me keep him alive.

Thanks,
Warm regards,
Tara

 

Karen Ann Monsy interviews Ruskin Bond

Karen Ann Monsy interviews Ruskin Bond [Bishop Cotton School 1943-1950 Ibbetson House]. As published in the Khaleej Times WKND Magazine of 9th December 2011 reproduced below. The original article photos and can be read here.

From Ruskin with love
By Karen Ann Monsy

Sixty years on and with pen firmly in hand, Ruskin Bond proves he’s still as capable of enchanting readers as he was when he first began.

Hundreds 
of screaming fans in a tent packed beyond seating capacity. That an audience could 
be just as captivated today by the man whose storytelling first fired up their imaginations as little children decades ago was a testament to just how popular an Indian author by the name of Bond — Ruskin Bond — could be.

With over 300 short stories, essays and novels to his name, it has been his irresistible signature of unassuming wit and simplicity more than anything else that has forged much of the bond between the Mussoorie-based novelist and his readers. Considered an icon in literary circles, the 77-year-old of British descent was recently declared due to receive the Lifetime Achievement Award by the Delhi Government. To his cheering fans at the Sharjah International Book Fair last month, he stated simply: “Without readers, there cannot be writers. If I’m famous, it’s because of you.”

Continue reading →

The Collins English Gem (Pocket) Dictionary . . . .

. . . . (Latest Print  1967)* and ‘The People who reside within it’ *
– By Vivek Bhasin

On Page 209 ( Fray through fret)  lives one Cuneyt Erturhan: year 1995
This Johnny was a sprightly young Turk who made sure that whenever my ship sailed into the port of Gemlik, Turkey he was there to process all documents and clear us inwards. He was a genuine piece and very sincere. Gemlik is situated south of Istanbul and many long evenings into early mornings were spent in the city of Bursa, enjoying Kebabs , Raka and those wispy belly dancers swaying to infectious sounds. Coming back on board in those early hours I would smell strong coal fires; this was the winter of 1995 and the range of mountains in the distant were covered with snow. Cuneyt lives on and works his pretty ass off, a good human being; sadly he never came back on to my ship as when we sailed we never returned.

On Page 243 (heaven through heliostat) lives one Mohammed A.S. Jubair: Year 1994
Mohammed  Jubair was Vice-President of Jubair Trading Company that was established in 1923. The company owned  Pomegranate Soft Drink,  Zingy  Soft Drink,  Great Whale Transport and purchased 100 forty foot containers of Bananas every week; Bananas that my ship bought in to the Port of Lattakia, Syria. The Bananas were further transported by land to Azerbaijan, Kazakhstan and even more far off places deep into the Middle East.  If ever there was a kind hearted soul it was Mr. Mohammed Jubair. Every two weeks when we arrived he sent his Mercedes ( Stretched ) to pick me up and take me out to Dinner. Fresh Red Snapper was my favourite and we enjoyed many evenings looking over the sandy beach into the stillness of the Mediterranean. And though that was not enough Mohammad always invited me home to meet the family and his beautiful wife.  Opulence is a tame word if one has to describe the Jubair Mansion. Arabian Nights and much more. With Chandeliers specially manufactured by Swarovski, the softest of carpets made from Pashmina, the beautiful oil paintings that he had won at auctions from Sotheby’s London and this exquisite life size painting of his wife. Gold plated faucets, mineral water from Hawaii and Coffee, pure Jamaican Blue Mountain. To further rock my senses he proudly showed me his own private Zoo.  Gorillas from Africa, Pythons, Lions, Pandas, Macaws, Peacocks and Pumas and yes two crocodiles from India… .’ I love them all very much, Captain Vivek’. I bet he did as I always jumped up from bed when the sea was rough and remembered those ‘snappers’!!

On page 275 ( inveigle through iridium) lives Manvendra Singh : Year on Year on Year
True Cottonian. Now based in Mumbai, he works for Air France. In fact I spoke to him yesterday; he was in Delhi. The last two times we met were when he accompanied my brother and me to Hardwar in May 2008 with my Father’s ashes, and  when my daughter got married on April 04th 2010. But regardless the connection is instant, never loss of recognition but a joy to hear each other again.

On Page 307 ( lorgnette through low) lives Carlos H.Ochoa: Year 1990-1995
A man of leisure. Loads of Moola, Doe, Cash. Monte Cristo Cigars, Courvoisier Brandy, Gucci shoes, Creed Cologne and a beautiful wife by his side who flies to Paris to get her hair in coiffure every fourteen days. She has an hour glass figure just as Don Carlos is rotund and lumpy but the way they glide and slide on the dance floor, be it the salsa or meringue, they sure do turn each other on and me!. Carlos owned the biggest boat docked at the Cartagena Marina and invited all his other (Rich) friends for a spin of Blue Marlin Fishing. A true Colombian he has invited me a zillion times to travel through that amazing country and see the sights of so many beautiful widows; their ferocious husbands all wasted by the drug cartels of Medellin, Cali and Bucaramanga. Boy do I love Colombia!!  He promised I would be safe in his armour plated Hummer. Carlos I am told, now shuttles between Key Largo, Coral Gables and his beloved Cartagena.

On page 411 ( proportion through protect) lives Capitan Odd Viste (Year 1990-2003)
Odd still lives in the Collins Gem, although he is no more. A Dane by birth he navigated the oceans; married, had children, sent them back to Copenhagen to study and get a better life ( his wife died before him); so just as they all do, he married a slender smashing Air Hostess twenty five years his junior. She is Ecuatoriana so what option does a man have when tropical lush Ecuador beckons. He built a house in Guayaquil and became of a collector of Guns. From Uzi to AK 47 he collected them all, from Lugers to Smith & Wesson’s were his wife’s passion; she really was a pistol packin’ senorita. They always took me to El Caracole Azul (The Blue Shell) restaurant famous for its Fish, more so for its famous Chilena owner. I never got into his hobby of becoming a Gun Collector ( though the thought of becoming a Bounty Hunter did excite me when I saw ‘Last Train to Yuma’) I remained content with my possessions of Ecuadorian Panama Hats and a beautiful Oil Painting that hangs on the wall in Mashobra. God Bless Odd Viste’s soul.

On Page 503 ( stalking-horse through star) resides Capt. Ronald Dull: Year 1990-1994
A pilot on the St. John’s River leading up to  the Port of Jacksonville, Florida where my ship docked every two weeks. Jacksonville, largest city in the United States and I visited that port 85 times during the years from 1990 to 1994. Ron-Dull always looked forward to taking my ship in; he was as young as me and kept me updated on the events at the weekend. My emphasis was on Hard Rock Concerts and many I have witnessed in the flesh out there.    David Bowie, Blue Oyster Cult, Steppenwolf, Deep Purple and Peter Frampton. Well if Ron Dull is my age, he is still there. Clambering aboard those giant ships approaching the eastern seaboard of the US, safely guiding them in. Though I am not sure if the Captains on board ask him the latest Rock News .

On Page 549 ( tricolor through tritium) lives Gulay Gonen: Year 1995
Her card states CEO of a company called ECG Bilgi Islem, based in Bursa Turkey. She was an IT expert and worked and updated our ship’s computers. I could always get a whiff of her presence even before she arrived on the Bridge; she smoked the strongest Turkish Cigarettes and those days smoking was not an offence ( just as it is today off New Delhi railway station). She was a wonderful and kind hearted lady and revealed a secret that must stand between her, me and us Cottonians. She was a member of the Masonic Lodge……. Nothing more can be revealed.

*Business Cards discovered in Vivek Bhasin’s Collins English Gem Pocket Dictionary that was given to him by his Mother in February 1968 when he entered Class SHELL. She wrote Vivek C. Bhasin, Bishop Cotton School, Simla-2 on the first page.  The dictionary that has travelled with him since then and now lives at his bedside in Weybridge, England.  ( 9th September 2011)