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The darkest evening of the year .

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Life at 60 : No Retirement At The Age Of Retirement

Posted on December 17, 2012 by VIDUR [ Kamal Nayan Chaturvedi ]

In My Office at Vidur’s Kreating Charakters

MUMBAI – MAHARASHTRA – INDIA DECEMBER 17 , 2012 11.59 P.M.

Yesterday I got a call from my younger brother , Atul . He was calling from Lucknow and reminded me that today I would be completing 60 years of my existence . Tomorrow 61st year will start and according to government rule , it is time to retire and take rest .

I was bemused . It suddenly dawned on me that all my childhood friends are now leading a retired life and are busy in asinine activities with their grand-children .

Today , when I returned from my acting institute , I got a call from my younger brother , Devesh . He was calling from Jabalpur and he too gently reminded me that it is very important day of my life and now it is time to slow down .

Throughout the day I got calls and messages from my nephews and nieces . Their calls were also a silent and wordless reminder that they have grown up and yes , I am getting old . Or I am rather old .

Life at 60 is definitely different .

It is the time when you become feeble and vulnerable .

It is the time when any uncouth , uncultured and abusive upstart can abuse and threaten you with impunity .

It is the time when you are looking for help , another muscular accomplice keeps a vigil at the door , so that you can’t get any timely succour .

It is the time when you would like to react but have no physical strength to fight or even oppose the brute , his accomplice and his factotum .

It is the time when a person , unworthy of even becoming your peon or a scavenger in your house , can sent you an abusive message on facebook and you have to behave stoically because you are unable to give a tight slap on his abominable face .

It is the time when people working for you and who are family , can be abused and beaten up , and you are unable to protect them and you have to look the other way .

It is the time when you can be called fake by some people who are themselves unscrupulous and unethical .

It is the time when all the credits are usurped and blames are put on your door-steps.

I laughed at turning 60 . When my friends and peers are leading a retired life , I am waging a relentless struggle for my survival .

When my class-mates are leading peaceful life and enjoying fruits of their hard-earned money , I have to wager my house and other belongings and start my professional life from scratch .

When people of my age are playing with their grand children , I am risking my existence , my reputation and 23 years of my life as an acting trainer , tutor or whatever you can call me , and trying to shield myself from continuous and unabated onslaught of a brute , his accomplice and his factotum .

And then I remember phone calls of my brothers . Is it really a day to plan retirement ? Is it time to call it a day ?

No , my work is not over yet . I have to wager my existence , my whole life and prepare for a new Mahabharat . Sound of Krishna‘s Panchajanya is reverberating in my mind . His voice beseeching relentless war against lie and untruth is filling my psyche . As I am writing this blog Robert Frost’s lines are coming to soothe my frayed tempers :

My horse must think it queer ,

To stop without a farm-house near ,

Between the woods and frozen lake ,

The woods are lovely dark and deep ,

But I have promises to keep ,

And miles to go before I sleep ,

And miles to go before I sleep !!

I know that I am in minority but I know that I am not alone . Conspirators have their accomplices but I have my benefactors . Children of a lesser God stood with me in my darkest hour . Apart from these 6 people shown in the photograph , 2 more have joined me in my was against lie and injustice .

Children Of A Lesser God

Bhishma Pitamah stood to fight , when he was 120 years old . I am half his age . Time is not yet ripe for retirement .

Krishna fought when he was in minority . Chankya fought when was alone . But they defeated mightiest of armies .

I thank all my extended family at Vidur’s Kreating Charakters for standing with me . At the age of 60 , when I have become feeble and vulnerable , they stood with me , became my shield , braced all the hardships , worked without money and still they never complained .

I have to re-pay their debt . So even though government decides to retire people at the age of 60 , I won’t be able to take this luxury .

Battle goes on . The Saga still continues .

VIDUR

MUMBAI – MAHARASHTRA – INDIA

www.kreatingcharakters.net

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In Search Of My Roots In Bihar

Posted on June 17, 2011 by VIDUR [ Kamal Nayan Chaturvedi ]

MUMBAI – MAHARASHTRA – INDIA JUNE 17 , 2011 11.55 P. M.

This blog is personal in nature , definitely very personal . People who generally visit my blog space , are not going to find it very interesting. But I am writing it for the posterity , for the future generations of my family. Youngsters of my family should know about our roots and traditions and should get familiar with the family history and the place of our ancestors, even if it is through the photos.

Map of Sultanpur District of U.P.showing Amethi

We originally hail from Amethi, Sultanpur , a district in Uttar Pradesh. then known as United Provinces of Agra & Awadh. We were Raj Guru of a particular clan of Thakur chieftains of Amethi, known as Amethiya Rajputs. Few centuries ago during British era , a branch of Amethiya Rajputs , in search of greener pastures , left their native place Amethi and came and settled in Sohagara village in the erstwhile Saran district of Bihar. This district is now known as Siwan and is situated on the banks of Ghaghara river a.k.a. Chhoti Gandak.

Map of Siwan District of Bihar showing Sohagara Village

Map of Siwan District of Bihar showing Guthani Block of Sohagara Village

[ On the South-Western corner of the map is Guthani Block. Sohagara and Bishunpura villages come under the jurisdiction of Guthani Block and are situated on the banks of Ghaghara ( Chhoti Gandak ) , where borders of Bihar end and borders of Uttar Pradesh begin. ]

Amethiya Rajputs bought land in Sohagara and settled there. Later on , a branch of their Raj Gurus also followed them and came and settled in Sohagara. They also bought large swath of land and properties and made Sohagara their home , completely forgetting Amethi of Sultanpur district.

Main Road of Sohagara Village , still pristine

Another Road of Sohagara Village

[ I clicked these two photographs when I visited Sohagara recently . These two village roads are still pristine and primitive .]

Chhoti Gandak River- Sohagara is on the right of the river

[ My wife is partly seen in this photo in yellow sari , taking water from the river before worshipping our family deity ]

I don’t know how many centuries had gone since my forefathers came and settled in Sohagara. How many wet monsoons came and drenched them , how many thunder and lightning frightened them in dark nights, how many grey , dreary and dull winters came , tormented them and then went away , how many scorching summer greeted my forefathers with all the furies …. I don’t know but I know for sure that they survived in their new adopted land. Far away from Amethi , my ancestors made Sohagara their home and gradually prospered.

This Brich House is being made , Where my Ancestral House used to be before1875

This Brick House is being made , Where my Ancestral House used to be before1873

This Brick House is being made , Where my Ancestral House used to be before 1873

[ Two photographs , which are given here , show a house under construction . This house is being constructed on the plot of land , where my ancestral house stood once. My forefathers lived in that house , which was made of mud and tiles. ]

We trace our known family history from Ram Charitra Chaturvedi. He was my great-great-grandfather. He was the person who left Sohagara with his two grown up sons, Shrikrishna Chaturvedi and Raghunandan Chaturvedi , came to Sonbarasa in the erstwhile Gorakhpur district of Uttar Pradesh and settled there. This part of Gorakhpur district is now known as Deoria. Of his two sons , the elder one , Shrikrishna Chaturvedi was my great-grandfather.

This incident of leaving Sohagara happened in 1873. So once again my family came to Uttar Pradesh. From Amethi of Uttar Pradesh to Sohagara of Bihar and then again to Deoria of Uttar Pradesh, it was like completing a full circle. But leaving one’s place is not an easy thing for anyone. So what was the cause of this migration ?

Our family tradition says that Sohagara was frequently attacked and plundered by some nomadic tribes. Those aggressive and barbarous nomads used to burn crops and loot the valuables. My forefathers , to eliminate the tyranny once and forever, fought them once and in the ensuing battle which was fought with lathis , spears and trident , a pregnant tribal woman got killed. Before her death, she cursed our forefathers that the clan of Chaturvedis would never prosper in Sohagara. After that fight and their subsequent defeat , nomadic tribes left Sohagara . They never returned. But King of Majhauli , who was the tax-collector and owner of the village , wanted to punish my forefathers for the killing of the tribal woman. So my great-great-grandfather , after consulting his well-wishers and after giving due consideration to all the pros and cons, left Sohagara in 1875 for good and made Sonbarasa his new home in Deoria district.

Map of Deoria District of U.P. showing Salempur where our Village Sonbarsa is located

Thought they left the Sohagara village and started living in Sonbarsa, they still kept their agricultural land in Sohagara and even bought agricultural land in another nearby village Bishunpura. Our family members used to go there and used to manage the agricultural property. This happened till my time , precisely till 1989 , before I left Deoria and came and settled in Mumbai. There after my visits dwindled.

My land in Bishunpura Village of Bihar , village is being seen in the foreground

My land in Bishunpura village in Bihar, village is seen in the foreground

I visited Sohagara this year , in June 2011 after a gap of almost 15 years. Vast swath of agricultural land , which was maintained and held by us till 2000 , have been sold. Sohagara and Bishunpura , both the villages , were managed by my family even after Ran Charitra Chaturvedi’s migration from the village in 1873 , But alas ! everything was disposed off during my tenure . I am not blaming anyone . I was also part of the sin and crime. We started selling the property at the time of my younger sister Neelima’s marriage in 1993 and within 7 years everything was sold off.

Ancestral property is like heritage and we are supposed to be only the trustees and not the owners of that property. As our forefathers bequeathed the property to us , it is one’s pious duty to maintain that property and bequeath it to their progeny. From 1873 to 2000 , these villages were maintained for almost 127 years and now they are gone and gone forever. My great-grandfather Shrikrishna Chaturvedi , my grandfather Kunj Bihari Chaturvedi and my father Lakshmi Kant Chatuevedi took every care to maintain these villages. But today , after 138 years of the migration of my great-great-grandfather, as I write this blog after visiting Sohagara , I am sorry to say that I was unable to maintain and take care of this heritage. I betrayed my ancestor’s trust and faith . I don’t know what would I say to them when I will face them after my death ? How would I face them , when I will meet them after my death ?

The house in the photo , is the residence of Ram Nageena Singh , a burly scion of Amethiya Rajputs who came and settled here. For four generations of my ancestors this house served as the residence cum administrative headquarters. After almost a century , it still stands there calmly and bears silent testimony of my forefather’s toil , strife and difficulties , which they faced while maintaining these lands. I have spent many days and nights in this house , when I used to visit these villages during Summer. Some times my stay was for a week or even for a fortnight at a stretch.

House of Ram Nageena Singh at Sohagara , Purab Patti

Sohagara is a beautiful village. It is still quite primitive and pristine . It has grand Shiva temple , believed to have been built by demon king Banasur.

Shiva Temple of Sohagara built by Demon King Banasur

The Lingam in Sanctum Sanctorum , My Wife & Sister paying Obeisance

Apart from this Shiva temple , Sohagara also has a ramshackle temple of my family deity. Family tradition says that a lady of my family committed Sati after the death of her husband. Later on in her memory a temple was built on the same spot where funeral pyre was lit . I don’t know who will visit these temples after my death. May be my family deity will wait endlessly and that too in vain for my future generations to come and pay obeisance. Who knows what will happen ? May be her temple will be forgotten in future . May be none from my family will visit her . May be this dilapidated place will succumb to the vagaries of nature’s fury and in some distant future will completely vanish from the earth. Or may be rampaging waters of Ghaghara will change its course and engulf the place during some monsoons and there will be no trace of even the very place. No one knows .

Loss of Sohagara is painful . It is not only loss of property but it is loss of a whole tradition , loss of our clan’s history and family folklore .

Ramshackle Temple of my Family Deity , My Wife & Sister at the left

Ramshackle Temple of my Family Deity Kul Devi , my wife is inside

Me & My Wife in front of Ramshackle Temple of my Family Deity , Kul Devi

I started writing this blog after my Sohagara visit , when I was still in Deoria. I could not complete it because of my hectic schedules. Then I returned to Mumbai. As I was returning to Mumbai after 15 days , my schedules went haywire and I couldn’t complete the blog . I am finally completing it today and posting it on my blog space.

VIDUR

MUMBAI – MAHARASHTRA – INDIA

Filed under: Memoirs | Tagged: Acting Trainer, Amethi, Bhojpuri language, Bihar, Bishunpura, Chhoti Gandak, Deoria, Diction Trainer, Ghaghara River, Guthani, Hindi Teacher, Kamal Nayan Chaturvedi, Kunj Bihari Chaturvedi, Lakshmi Kant Chaturvedi, Majhauli Raj, Ram Charitra Chaturvedi, Saran, Shrikrishna Chaturvedi, Sohagara, Sultanpur, Uttar Pradesh, Vidur, Vidur Chaturvedi, Vidur's Blog | 3 Comments »

A 15 Year-Long Funeral

Posted on February 25, 2011 by VIDUR [ Kamal Nayan Chaturvedi ]

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Last Photo of Nitin-Few Days Before His Death

NIGHT………………………………1.15 A.M.

It is February 25 , 2011 today. 15 years back on this very date [ February 25 , 1996 ], my elder son Nitin Chaturvedi died.

He was going to his college at Malad from Nalla Sopara, where we were living at that time.

Some where in between Vasai and Borivli , he fell from the running local train and lost his life.

In those days of extremely harsh and hard struggle, I used to leave my Shree Prastha flat at Nalla Sopara , very early in the morning and used to take 11.00 P.M. train in the night for the return journey.

On the day of my son’s death, I was at home and was taking my afternoon nap , which I rarely do. I was not feeling well that day. So he pressed my legs for some time and started getting ready for his college. I was sleepy. I saw glimpse of his face while he was closing the main door of the flat. That was the last glimpse of his face, which I could see and that glimpse still lingers in the dark , gloomy and lonely corridors of my heart without any obfuscation.

After his departure, I went to sleep. I was fast asleep . There was a knock at the door at around 2.00 P.M. Woken from my slumber I opened the door. There was a police man standing there with my son’s college I.Card. He told me to come with him to the Bhagwati Hospital, Borivli. Strangely , I felt nothing, sensed nothing and like an enchanted person followed him. We took local train from Nalla Sopara and reached Bhagwati Hospital, Borivli. He started escorting me to the morgue. Still I was numb and could not sense anything.

An attendant opened the door of the morgue and then I saw my son’s dead body lying on a stretcher in a pool of blood. His eyes were half closed , half-open. His fair face was full of dust. Fresh , thick sheet of blood was clearly visible beneath his bruised body. Again I couldn’t feel anything at that moment. Today when I analyze, I realize that I became numb at that moment.

I had hardly 50 rupees in my pocket and that too in coins. I called Mr. Kishore Namit Kapoor, with whom I was working at that time, and told him about the incident.

I returned to Nalla Sopara. My wife had sensed the death and she was crying profusely. All the neighbours had gathered and were trying to console her. Before I could reach Nalla Sopara, Mr. Kishore Namit Kapoor was there with all the students of the current batch.

My Keralite neighbour took charge of my two other sons. We returned to Bhagwati Hospital to claim the body. After post mortem and other formalities we again came to Nalla Sopara with the body. Next day we cremated the body.

I don’t want to go into the graphic details of the following days. But one thing I would never forget that when this incident happened , I had only 50 rupees and that too in coins. I had no money for hospital expenses, no money for post mortem fees and for the expenses of cremation. Mr. Kishore Namit Kapoor was gracious and kind enough to give me Rs. 20,000.00 [ Rs. Twenty Thousand ]. With his help I was able to perform last rights of my son.

After this we went to Deoria, my native place , for other rituals of shraddha.

When I returned from my native place and asked Mr. Kishore Namit Kapoor about repayment of the money, he refused to take back the money. I would never forget this gesture as long as I am alive.

Today when I am writing this blog , I am not ashamed but I am pained to remember my economic condition. In those days of penury and destitution, I could barely manage two square meals for my family. My son was fond of good food , good clothes and I was unable to provide that. Few days before his death, he was craving for bread and butter and I was unable to buy even Modern bread. Cost of Modern bread in those days was not more than 2.00 or 3.00 rupees. But I couldn’t afford even that and since I couldn’t buy bread, every night I used to cook up one new story .

He wanted to watch Jurassic Park, which was being screened at Sterling. I couldn’t take him to Sterling because train fare from Nalla Sopara to Churchgate and then price of the ticket at Sterling for me , my wife and three children , was beyond my capacity.

It was his destiny to die young. [ He celebrated his 16th birthday on 21st February, only 4 days before his death. ] But I am saddened because I could father 3 sons and was unable to provide them even basic amenities of life. I am not ashamed of my penury and destitution. But I feel guilty that I was unable to fulfill their basic needs.

It is 15 years today since he is gone. Funeral pyre, which I lit on that fateful day consumed my son’s body but it refuses to get extinguished even now. It is still burning in the inner , dark and gloomy corridors of my psyche and burning me along with my guilt. It is a 15 year-long funeral, which refuses to end.

It seems today that barring my wife, every one in the family, all the relatives have forgotten him completely. I think no one remembers him.My two sons were too young to remember even his face. Slowly he is becoming just a portrait on the wall.

I am a firm believer in re-birth. I do believe that my son’s unsatisfied soul must have taken birth.in a new family and definitely in a wealthy family. In his new birth , sitting in the lap of his immensely rich father , he must be enjoying all the pleasantries of life, which he used to wish and I was unable to provide.

And I am sure, he is totally oblivious of the fact that his poor parents still remember him fondly.

VIDUR

MUMBAI – MAHARASHTRA – INDIA

Filed under: Memoirs | Tagged: Acting Trainer, Deoria, Diction Trainer, India, Kamal Nayan Chaturvedi, Mumbai, Vidur, Vidur Chaturvedi, Vidur in News, Vidur on Twitter, Vidur's Blog | 3 Comments »

It Has Been Now Three Years , My Mother !

Posted on February 2, 2011 by VIDUR [ Kamal Nayan Chaturvedi ]

It was third death anniversary of my mother on January 28 , 2011 . Three years back on January 28 , 2008 she died in Jabalpur. I still remember the day vividly. My memory refuses to obliterate that day from my psyche. I was sleeping in my Mumbai flat and my telephone rang very early in the morning. Early morning calls are always frightening. You feel that something might be wrong somewhere or there is a tragedy lurking in the vicinity. It was a call from my younger brother from Jabalpur. He told me that he is going to hospital as Amma had suffered heart attack. I talked to my mother . She clearly told me that she is not going to return from the hospital. She was wailing because of excruciating pain. I assured her that everything will be okay and went to sleep. Little did I realize that it was my last talk to her. She was admitted in the hospital and from there she never returned. She suffered first heart attack in October 2007 and recovered completely , so I was sure that she is going to be all right once again. But it was not to be. In the afternoon I got a call from my brother that I should immediately proceed for Jabalpur. I took the next flight to Nagpur and took a cab from there . After a night long journey. I reached Jabalpur early morning and found her dead. I found her body lying on the ground, as if she was fast asleep. Only indication of a calamity was the blood that was oozing out of her ears and nose . Other wise she was calm as if enjoying her deep slumber.

By noon all my brothers and sisters came and we took her for cremation on the banks of Narmada at Gwari Ghat. It was bitter , cold , grey and windy afternoon and when , according to Hindu rituals , we uplifted her body to be dipped in the cold , chilly waters of Narmada , I hesitated for a second. What if she catches cold ? What if she shivers ? But nothing happened . After several rituals I lit the funeral pyre and with the rising flames the last remnant of my guardianship was gone. I lost my father when I was 22 years old. That day I lost my mother, when I was 56 years old. Yes I was old . Yes I was mature but as flames started consuming her body I watched everything in helpless , melancholic state of mind and I knew that now my flanks are defenceless. Baba, Maa , Babuji and now Amma , all are gone and I have to live my life henceforth without them , without their love , without their care. I am going to live and those who would have easily and happily died for me are now gone.

[ This photograph was taken by me in February 2007 , when we went for a pilgrimage to Madurai, Ramesgwaram and Tirupati . It was her last pilgrimage.]

When I look back and try to visit her life , I am amazed. There was nothing extraordinary. She was uneducated and belonged to a poor family. From a tiny and obscure village called Marufpur, District Azamgarh, Uttar Pradesh she came to our family based in a village called Sonbarsa , District Gorakhpur [ now Deoria ] , Uttar Pradesh. From abject poverty to wealth, from uneducated, Bhojpuri speaking family to highly educated one , for her it would have been a severe cultural shock. One thing all the youngsters of the family don’t know about her is that she was an unwanted bride. She was not welcomed in the family with warmth and joy.

At this juncture while I write this blog, I should and I must admit that she had unabashed preference for me. She was totally biased in my favour. No mother on earth ever ignores her children and she also did not ignore her other children but it is a known fact of the family that she used to give me preferential treatment. Later on when my younger sister Neelima was born her attention was diverted towards her a bit. She was her last child and that too a girl child, so she used to pamper her a lot. But still I was the prefered one. During my childhood, it was a source of glee and ecstasy for me. I used to feel proud that I am a chosen kid of destiny and that my other siblings are children of a lesser God. But now I feel ashamed. As I am getting older and have family of my own, I feel that whatever my mother did was in a way wrong and that I enjoyed it , was even worst.

I tried to find out an answer for her behaviour , but I always failed. Few days back , when I was writing script of my Bhojpuri directorial venture ” Aber” , I suddenly found the answer. I was writing characteristics of the mother of the hero of my film and I visualized my mother’s situation. Because of her background and because her own existence was at stake in her new house, she must have felt threatened. In the dark , unlit room of our Sonbarasa village house, where there was no support coming, not a soul was accommodative, not any sign or signal of acceptance was in sight , no glimmer at the end of the tunnel was visible , she must have felt inferior compared to other ladies of the family. It must have been a lonely and fierce psychological battle for acceptance and respect. When I was born, it was not only the birth of a child for her, it was the advent of an heir, a male descendant in and for the patriarchal and oligarch family. The respect and acceptance which was missing, came almost running to her. And since it happened because of me, she must have looked at me as a god send opportunity. And for this very reason she remained biased towards me till her last breath.

It is a known family secret that compared to all of us , my younger brother Devesh served her more. So it would have been natural for her to feel special attachment towards him but due to her early year’s lonely and fierce psychological war at the dark and spartan room of our Sonbarsa house, her feelings for me never changed.

[ Here in the above photograph I am standing and my younger brother Devesh is in her lap . Location - First floor verandah of krishna Kunj - our Deoria House ]

I have never been a very extraordinary son to my parents in any way. Devesh served our mother in a much better way and was with her at the time of her death . My third brother , Atul was always with our father and was with him at the time of his death. I cannot come close to them as for as serving our parents are concerned. To be honest I was just an okay son. Not great , not worst.

{ At the bridge which connects mainland to Rameshwaram. February 2007 ]

In The Rameshwaram Market with My Son

It is now three years since she is gone. My umbilical chord with her was snapped at the time of my birth. My emotional chord with her with remain intact as long as I will live. But the physical proximity is certainly missing. I am not going to see her or meet her again. And after my death , it is going to be like two drifting pieces of wood in a mighty ocean or two floating atoms in the galaxy. They can meet occasionally or accidentally but there is no affinity, no relationship , no attachment.

This is sad but this is life.

VIDUR

DEORIA – UTTAR PRADESH – INDIA

Filed under: Memoirs | Tagged: Acting Trainer, Bhojpuri language, Deoria, Diction Trainer, Hindi Teacher, India, Jabalpur, Kamal Nayan Chaturvedi, Madurai, Mumbai, Sonbarsa, Uttar Pradesh, Vidur, Vidur Chaturvedi, Vidur in News, Vidur on Twitter, Vidur's Blog, Vidur's News | 2 Comments »

Gita Is Right, Death Is Inevitable, But…………….

Posted on April 26, 2010 by VIDUR [ Kamal Nayan Chaturvedi ]

Few seconds back I got a call from my in-laws from Dabra, Gwalior, Madhya Pradesh. My wife’s bhabhi died few minutes back. She was not too old but was too ill. So the inevitable happened.

I am so saddened and distressed at the turn of events. As I revisit the cycle of life, I find that we, as a human being, pass through various phases. We start as a toddler. We have no feelings or emotions at that stage of our life. While we grow older, we are engulfed by other kind of feelings. Ego, anger, complexes and indifference to others, become our primary emotions. We are so enamoured by our own self at that time that nothing else matters. In our own mind we become the epicentre of the universe.

Marriage is the other institution, which brings new set of people to our lives. We learn to adjust to those people and start a big extended family. We think that now life is settled. Now we will live on for ever. But suddenly death starts striking with regular ferocity. Our thinking gets shattered and we look at the turn of events with helpless anxiety and defenceless valour.

As I have written in several blogs of mine, I lost my grandfather, maa, and father very early in life. I lost even a young son, when I was in my 40s. I was grief stricken and saddened at every death in the family but I never looked at death the way I look at it now. Two years back, when my mother died, I felt that I have suddenly grown old. The feeling of becoming elder shook me completely. Before my mother’s death, my brother’s father-in-law and my mother-in-law also died. With their death I started thinking about the life and after the demise of my mother, I came to the present conclusion. Now every death is the end of a saga, end of a relationship, end of an order. Every death is the beginning of a certain end. Every death in the family or the extended family heralds your own impending end. You have a family, few relatives and think of starting a settled life, but alas, at the same moment life starts phasing out. With the passing away of every elder, one becomes vulnerable, one is left with the unprotected flanks, ready for the fatal, ferocious strike of death.

When I think of my in-laws, I am reminded of my wife. One day, 35 years ago, ( July 1975 ) , I went to marry her and after marriage, she left the house where she was born and brought up and came to my house. It was union of two families and two clans. In that family her grand parents died first. And then 10 years back her mother also died. And now news came about the death of her brother’s wife. With each death of an elder, my 35 year old bond with my in-laws will weaken and finally will be snapped one day . Even for my wife it won’t remain the same. I particularly remember the day when 8 years after the death of her mother, she went to visit her father’s place in 2008. She sat outside the house for more than two hours. It would have never happened, had her mother been alive. It was so saddening to see her sitting out of her own house like a guest. The house where she spent her childhood and adolescent years, became alien to her just after the death of her mother. With each death this scenario will become the norm and not the exception. My mother-in-law’s death was a precursor of the events to come and this death of my brother-in-law’s wife signals that change of the old order is imminent. ( In the picture, she is at left . )

I am a follower of Bhagwan Krishna and a firm believer in the teachings of The Bhagwat Gita. It proclaims that those who are born shall die one day and those who are dead shall take birth again. So you shouldn’t be sad for the inevitable. I firmly believe in the saying of the God but I am sad that we won’t get the same set of people or combination in our new life. I will take rebirth but never ever my life will be same. Same place of my birth, ( Deoria in Uttar Pradesh ), same parents, same brothers, sisters and their spouses and same set of relatives are not going to meet me again. True I will take birth again after my death, but am I going to get same people around me, with me ? Will my house in Deoria be my house again in my new life ?

No, it will not happen. So let me cherish the few remaining people, some past moments and parts of my life and time.

It is now 4 hours since she died. When I started this blog it was few seconds. Life flies, times pass us on and people simply leave us and go to their respective new journeys. Alas ! Nothing is permanent.

Vidur

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20 Weathered Years In Mumbai : Taking Stock Of Erosion And Corrosion

Posted on March 16, 2010 by VIDUR [ Kamal Nayan Chaturvedi ]

As I turned 57 on December 17, 2009, I started an introspection about 20 years of my life in Mumbai. In my previous blog I have divided my life in 4 phases. First phase – 22 years, Second phase – 15 years and Third phase – 20 years. Of these 57 years, 30 years were spent in Deoria, 07 years were spent in Allahabad and remaining 20 years were spent in Mumbai. I had stated that third phase of my life ended in 2009 and fourth phase has started. This third phase comprises 20 years of my life in Mumbai. From October 1989 to December 2009, I survived 20 years in this film industry where fortune changes every Friday. I endured and could sustain myself successfully.

It was a hesitant and tentative start. I moved to Mumbai to eke out a living in the film industry. I had no acquaintances, no godfather, no advisor, not even a helping hand here. With no help in life, no succour in sight, no money to make a living and no one to guide me, I started living a precarious life. I was advised by Ms. Ashha Chandra to start Diction classes. In those days of abject poverty, when days passed without lunch and nights, without a proper meal, it was a welcome opportunity. I started training people and started earning some money, which was not enough but I was happy that I was earning something. To save money I used to avoid bus and local train and used to walk on foot. Once I walked from MacDonald, Linking Road, Khar to Yari Road. I am not regretting those days, I am just making few points to illustrate how I started this phase and finally how I could make it against all the odds.

My first student was a girl called Sarita. Later on I got an opportunity to train Saif Ali Khan. From Saif to Ranbir Kapoor and from Kareena Kapoor to Katrina Kaif, I have trained students of every hue and colour. Barring a microscopic minority, all the star-sons and star-daughters are my students. Late Raj Kapoor’s three grandchildren : Randhir Kapoor’s daughter Kareena, Rishi Kapoor’s son Ranbir and Rima Jain’s son Arman are my students. Mr. Shatrughan Sinha’s both sons ; Luv and Kush, Mr. Anil Kapoor’s daughter Sonam, Moushami’s daughter Meghaa, Late playback singer Mukesh’s grandson Neil Nitin Mukesh came to me for training. Apart from Hindi, my students are working in Tamil, Telugu and Kannada film industries. So many of them are working in Marathi and Bhojpuri films. T. V. industry is full of my students. I get students from far-flung states of India like ; Jammu & Kashmir, Sikkim, Meghalaya, Manipur, Assam and Andaman & Nicobar Islands. Students from West Bengal and South are in legions. Among my students 3 are music directors, 4 are producers and 6 are directors.

Almost all the prestigious banners, including Yash Raj Films, Dharma Productions and Rajshri Productions almost always send their protege to me for training. I started a trend of Script Based training. I did script based workshops for several films. From Yash Raj Films “ Mohabbatein ” to Samir Karnik’s forthcoming “ Yamala Pagla Deewana ” and Shah Rukh Khan’s Red Chillies Production No. 5, I did many workshops. I did workshop for a Kannada film also, starring Nenapirali Prem and Karishma Tanna. Currently I am supervising dubbing of Aamir Khan Productions “ Dhobi Ghat ”. Aamir Khan’s wife Kiran Rao is the director. Karan Johar produced, Dharma production’s forthcoming film “ I Hate Luv Storys ” could be mentioned as a watershed in my career. Its protagonists – Imran Khan and Sonam Kapoor, its music director Shekhar ( of Vishal-Shekhar fame ) and its director Puneet Malhotra, all are my students. It has been a very satisfying journey indeed.

As I conclude my analysis of these 20 years of my life as an acting trainer, I have just one regret. Some of my students criticise me vehemently. Though they are in microscopic minority, but still they are there. I fail to fathom their vehemence and persistence in my criticism. But I have satisfaction that vast majority of my students love me. I value their love and respect. As for my critics are concerned, they are welcome to have their views. I don’t wish to be AJATSHATRU [ Having No Enemy ]. In mythology only Yudhishthir was Ajatshatru, neither Arjun nor Krishna could even boast of this title. They had enemies in legions. I would love to be in company of Krishna and Arjun. Instead of a faceless and spine less Yudhishthir, Arjun and Krishna are any day preferable.

As my third phase ends, it gives me immense satisfaction that it was satisfying phase.

Vidur

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The Tragedy Of Being Elder & Getting older

Posted on March 13, 2010 by VIDUR [ Kamal Nayan Chaturvedi ]

In life’s cycle, old age is the most certain and inevitable stage. In fact it completes the cycle but it also makes people vulnerable. They, just like a toddler, need all the support and care, which definitely and certainly allude them. A helping hand, when most required, vanishes. Youngsters, when needed most and that too with anticipation, simply refuse to pay heed. Old, feeble and infirm people sometimes face all sorts of humiliation and neglect in isolation. In a way they become trash bins, lying in the neglected corners of a house. Anyone can come, can heap abuses, can accuse them for anything and everything and then can leave without any trace of repent or remorse. If you are the eldest, the trauma multiplies.

After posting my blog about Amita Pathak, I was spending a lazy Sunday. This luxury happened to me after a long time. After reading Times Of India, I started thinking about my life and its journey till now. Meandering through many ups and downs, braving inclement weather, walking in cold and heat, bracing challenges after challenges,facing opponents after opponents and listening acerbic criticism and harsh condemnation, it is still hurtling and inching to its unknown destination. How many battles, how many wars are yet to come, I don’t know. I do not know, how many opponents are still lurking in the dark and are waiting to pounce on me. Multiplicity of enemies and enormity of hindrances are yet to get over. And I am getting old. But life moves on. And for me it moves in phases.

THE FIRST PHASE : 1952 – 1974 ( The Formative Years )

Though I didn’t realize it then, but my first 22 years were my golden period. During this period, though I lost mygrandfather, maa and my father, but still I think and believe, it is the best period of my life. In spite of asinine activities and futile sibling rivalry, this period was my best till date. When I revisit my childhood, I am amazed at the idyllic pace and carefree atmosphere of those days. Reading a lot, playing a bit and roaming around here and there, carelessly and aimlessly was the order of the day. Little did I realize then, that these days are not going to come back again in my life. A sense of nostalgia grips me whenever I look back and try to tread same path again. Those 22 years were spent in the cities of Deoria and Allahabad in Uttar Pradesh . If I divide it further, I spent 15 years in Deoria, where I was born and studied till High School. I passed High School in 1967 and then went to Allahabad for further studies. I spent 07 years in Allahabad. In 1974 my father died and I decided to return to Deoria after completing post graduation. I returned to Deoria from Allahabad and thus the first phase of my life ended. After my father’s death, technically and legally I became head of the family, but since my mother was alive, I was neither the eldest, nor the oldest. My flanks were protected and I felt secured in my mind.

THE SECOND PHASE : 1974 – 1989 ( The Quest Of A New Path )

My second phase of 15 years started again in Deoria, in 1974. This period was full of turmoil and deaths. My relatives, some friends and some close people started dying one by one. It is strange, rather bizarre. You start a family. By matrimony or by other associations you have close relatives and then slowly they start leaving this world one by one. Apart from deaths this period was full of struggle, dispute, litigation and confusion. Almost 22 court cases were pending in various courts of Uttar Pradesh and Bihar regarding my property and family matters. I started fighting the court cases and started doing social work. I worked day and night and created a niche for myself. As I rose in public esteem, my friends became envious and started their vitriolic and venomous campaign against me. there was no respite in sight and their ferocity increased by each passing day. To buy peace of mind I decided to leave Deoria and came to Mumbai in 1989. And thus second phase of my life ended. But I was yet to get old, yet to become the eldest. But a new struggle was starting all over again.

The Third Phase : 1989 – 2009 ( The New Path – Voyage Starts )

I came to Mumbai and started my struggle for a new life. Some hits, few misses ; some victories, few defeats and a sense of insecurity became part of my life. It

started as a lonely journey and it is still lonely in spite of 20 long years. I travelled every nook and corner of Mumbai. I accepted students of every hue and colour. Sometimes I worked even without getting paid , though I was in dire need of money. Days , months and years passed. there was no end of my struggle in sight. I worked tirelessly, sometimes without food , sometimes without proper clothes , but I kept on moving ahead. Today I can state with satisfaction that I have trained almost all the star sons and daughters. While I was struggling to establish myself, my mother died and thus with one stroke of destiny, I became elder overnight. Suddenly I felt that I am getting older too. On 17 December 2009, I celebrated my 57th birthday and on the same day the third phase of my life ended.

The Fourth Phase : 2010……….( Groping In The Dark )

This phase started in January 2010. I am again restless. I am feeling that I have already accomplished what I wished for me. Are there some new heights to scale ? Are there some other goals to hit ? Will there be some changes again in my life ? I don’t know . But one thing is certain; I am now elder and I am getting old. This makes me vulnerable. At this stage my flanks are open and they are without protection. Anyone can come and can say anything to me. Anyone can come and accuse me of anything and everything. And that to with impunity. Since I am elder and older, I am supposed to be magnanimous and forgiving. I can’t even answer back. It is inhuman tyranny, It’s a lonely journey, a very lonely journey.

My brothers are settled in life with their respective families. My sisters are also leading their own life after their marriage. We are not going to live under the same roof once again as we used to live during our childhood. All my elders are gone for their celestial journey. Barring few, all my childhood friends have drifted apart. They must be fighting their own battles. I don’t know where and how. Even if I bump into them, I shudder, I won’t recognize them. Some may be enjoying retired life after accomplishing every dream, every wish and desire and here I am, still fighting for my survival, still struggling for a new life. I have some friends left in Deoria but I have lost contacts with all my friends of Allahabad.

As I complete 57 tumultuous years and I am approaching 60th year of my life, a sense of loneliness grips me. At this juncture, I am again groping in the dark, with no vision in sight. The tragedy of being elder and getting older empowers and engulfs me completely and I am feeling very lonely in the winter of my life. May be I would be a trash bin lying in the neglected corner of a house.

Vidur

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Twenty Years of Leaving Deoria, Twenty Years of Being An Acting Trainer &amp A Film Called “I Hate Luv Storys “

Posted on September 28, 2009 by VIDUR [ Kamal Nayan Chaturvedi ]

Today is Vijaya Dashmi, a day very significant in Hindu calendar and tradition. A day which is prominently etched in the psyche of every Hindu. A day which is associated with Bhagwan Ram and Devi Durga. But for me it has an added significance and importance. 20 years ago on the same day in 1989, I left Deoria, U.P. and came to Mumbai. It was a painful and difficult decision. It was like leaving a part of your life permanently. It was like leaving all your near and dear ones for ever. It was a journey towards an unknown and uncertain future. But at the same time It was a fling towards a seemingly bright career.

I still remember that Vijaya Dashmi day in 1989. It was early in the morning. I left my home and family and came to DEORIA SADAR station to board a train to Lucknow. A group of my close friends came to bid me farewell. After some time train arrived and I boarded it. Train started chugging out of station and slowly all the familiar faces , the very familiar railway station of DEORIA SADAR and the city of my birth, started fading away from my sight . Slowly everything was left behind and I moved ahead. It was a traumatic experience and it still lingers in my psyche.

I reached Mumbai two days later. I will write about my struggle in the new city in some other blog. Today on the 20th anniversary of my arrival in Mumbai, I would like to state that I started my life as an acting trainer in a very humble way and today as I look back, I feel a sense of fulfillment and satisfaction. Apart from Hindi film industry, stars trained by me are working in Tamil, Telugu, Kannada, Marathi and Bengali film industry also. In fact, now my students are working in every field of film making. I will give you just one example today :

Mr. Karan Johar has announced a film, “ I Hate Luv Storys”. It has 4 major stars : Imran Khan , Sonam Kapoor , Sammir Dattani and Aamir Ali. They all are my students. Film’s director Punit Malhota, nephew of Mr. Manish Malhotra and a first timer, is also my student. Film’s music director Shekhar, of Vishal-Shekhar fame, is my student too. The film has just been announced, shooting is yet to commence and it has got 6 students of mine and that too in various departments. The feeling is overwhelming and humbling.

On my Facebook, I have up loaded my various photos and divided my life in three phases. But I must admit that my 4th phase starts today. They are :

Phase – 1 : The Formative Years: 1952-1974 (DEORIA & ALLAHABAD)

Phase – 2 : The Quest of A new Path: 1974-1989 (DEORIA)

Phase – 3 : The New Path, Voyage starts: 1989-2009 (MUMBAI)

Phase – 4 : The Unknown Future: 2009 – …………..

The First phase of 22 years started with my birth and it ended with the death of my father in 1974.

The Second phase of 15 years started after my father’s death, when I returned to Deoria from Allahabad and it ended when I left Deoria for Mumbai in 1989.

The Third phase of 20 years started with my arrival in Mumbai and perhaps, it is ending today with the culmination of my journey as an acting trainer.

The Fourth phase lies in the womb of future. It is still unknown and uncertain. I do not know, what is in store for me now onwards but I must say that the third phase is ending on a very satisfying note. I know nothing about my future. It could be summed up as

Phase – 4…………….. ……………. 2010 to ……… ( Unknown )

Vidur

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Remembering My Maa : Nothing Step-Motherly About Her

Posted on August 14, 2009 by VIDUR [ Kamal Nayan Chaturvedi ]

Untitled-1 Today is JANMASHTAMI and as the Hindus all over the world celebrate Bhagawan Krishna’s birthday, my thoughts wander to the ageless, timeless and immortal stories of Bhagawan Krishna and his life. His biological parents were Vasudeva and Devaki but he was brought up in the house of Nanda and Yashoda. Thus they were his non-biological parents. I always wondered, why Yashoda Mata got preference over Devaki Mata? Why a non-biological mother was more revered than the biological mother? I had no clue to this conundrum during my childhood. But as I am getting older, I am gradually finding answers to many of my childhood queries. And today, when the world celebrates JANMASHTAMI, I think I know the answer. Now I realize why Yashoda Mata is more revered than Devaki Mata. Today, as I am fasting and celebrating JANMASHTAMI, I suddenly remember my own non-biological mother. I was only 6 years old when she died, but I vividly remember her selfless love, which she showered on me and my two brothers. ( My two sisters were born after her death ) Till today I remember her meticulous care, with which she brought us up. I remember all the troubles which she took happily and voluntarily for the upbringing of me and my two brothers. For us she did everything which was needed and required, though we were not her biological sons. I used to call her Maa and she nicknamed me babu.

Her name was Raj Kishori Devi and she was born and brought up in Shahpur Patori, Patna, Bihar in the early years of 1900. Her father Shri Dwarka Nath Tiwari was immensely rich and was a very influential landlord of Shahpur Patori. This place, now a railway station, still exists in between two districts, Hajipur and Patna in Bihar. During my childhood I have heard several stories about the wealth and fame of her father. When my father’s barat ( marriage procession ) reached Patori, dozens of sacks of sugar were emptied in the family well of Tiwaris to sweeten it’s water. It was a well contemplated gesture on their part. They thought that no barati should ask for sherbet in the scorching heat of Bihar. It should be made available to them as per their need and desire. The stories of her father’s affluence are many. A palang, which was given to her by her parents, is there in my Deoria house till today. Even after years of neglect, It still exists as a silent testimony of the opulence and luxury of the Tiwaris of Shahpur Patori. The photo I am posting here, shows her father ( extreme right )along with his friends in hunters attire. It clearly depicts the kind of life he was leading and was accustomed to. Along with Maa, I went to Shahpur Patori once. I still have faint memory of that visit. Sepia toned memories of her huge house lingers in my memory till today. If I ever visit her house, I can recognize the interiors easily. Untitled-2

After her marriage, she adjusted very well in her new home, though in those days our family was poorer than her own family. From her huge, pucca house of Patori, she came to our Sonbarsa house made of tiles and mud. It must have been very difficult for her, but she never complained. She had a class of her own, while we had none. She was well read and was deeply influenced by Bengali culture and language. Occasionally she used to dress like Bengalis. Her photo, which I have posted above, shows her in a Bengali style Sari. Apart from Bhojpuri and Hindi, she was fluent in Bengali language. In those days of early 1900, when educating a girl child was not a priority, in fact a taboo, it speaks volumes that her father took care to educate her properly. She used to subscribe many magazines and newspapers, which she used to read during the windy winter and scorching summer afternoons.

When she came to our family after marriage, my father scaled new heights of success and glory. He constructed palatial houses at Gorakhpur and Deoria and as an advocate reached to dizzying heights. Only sad note in this fairy tale was that she had no issue. When she got to know that she cannot conceive, she willingly and gracefully allowed her husband to remarry. Thus my father got married to my biological mother and we were born. The photo of our Deoria house ( Krishna Kunj ), which I am posting here, shows her standing in the veranda on the first floor. She was matriarch of the family in true sense of the term. As I have stated above, she took charge of me and my two brothers willingly. She had great influence on me. Love for books and fetish for pens are her influence, which I still have. Love of Bengali food, language and culture, which I have, is only because of her. I remember my first day in the school. I was admitted to City Montessory School, which in those days, was being run in Kanhaiya Kutir. This is a house of one of my uncles, which still exists on Katchery Road, Deoria. When I returned from the school, Maa was waiting for me anxiously with all the delicacies, which she herself prepared. Day after day same routine, same pattern followed. She was always there to cuddle me without fail and that too before my biological mother. Here I am posting a photo of me and my two brothers along with her and my biological mother. Maa is standing just behind me. You have to see her body language and her eyes to understand her feelings and love for us. Maa

Approximately between 1957 and 1958, she lost her mental balance and was often quarantined in her room. Incidentally, now I occupy her room. Even in that condition, she never became violent. She used to sit calmly and silently in her room, lost in her thoughts. She was always very reticent, very calm but now I know that her silence of those days was different. For almost a year she never talked to anyone. Never ever she demanded anything from anybody. I often used to peep into her room but she could not recognize me. I was used to her cuddle, so I sneaked into her room again and again and looked at her face but there was no trace of recognition in her eyes. She never responded to my smiles, never hold me in her arms. Little did I realize that very soon a chapter of my life is going to be closed for ever. A vaidya ( Ayurvedic Doctor ) was appointed to look after her but her condition never got improved. It worsened. Later on she lost sense of everything. Sometimes she used to sit in her room without even clothes. But never ever she got violent.

It was summer of 1958. I was sleeping on the first floor terrace of my house. I woke up in the morning and saw my Maa lying on the ground in a corner of the terrace. She was calm and silent as usual. My father was reciting shlokas of Geeta and there were so many people standing there with concerned and anxious looks. I had severe pain in my ears since so many days and suddenly that morning everything was okay. There was no pain. I left my cot and started looking at her with bewilderment. Why is she lying on the ground? She was revered, she was matriarch of the family, everyone called her Dulhin Ji, even my father addressed her with that pet name. Several rituals were performed and Maa was lifted by all the assembled men and they started taking her out of the house. I realized something was wrong but since I was only 6 years old, I didn’t understand that she was dead and was being taken out of the house for cremation. Little did I realize that she won’t be back again. Little did I realize that there won’t be a Maa again in my life. It was the first death in my life and I still remember her calm face and closed eyes. Yes, she died young. Yes, she died without having her own sons. But she died, when my father was at the pinnacle of his career. She died, when everyone was alive and our Deoria house ( Krishna Kunj )was full of people. It was full of their boisterous laughter. And her Patori house was yet to be sold and it still belonged to her brother ( Goni Mama ). Fortunately she died without knowing the fate of her mayaka. They fell to bad days after her death. The huge mansion, which her father built, was sold. Acres and acres of orchards of Mango and Leechi were wagered and later on sold by Goni Mama. Finally he died in the early years of 1970 in abject poverty. Fortunately Maa did not see this. She died without any regrets. She passed away when everything was good. But she passed away when I was too young and my brothers were tiny tots. She loved us but we could not do anything in return. We could not even say, Maa, we love you too.

I have heard so many stories about stepmothers and the relations they have with their stepsons. Here as I am sitting and writing this blog on JANMASHTAMI day, I submit that I was lucky to have a mother, who was not my biological mother but she was never a stepmother either. In fact she was more than a mother.

It is July 13, 2009. It is 12.00 in the night. Outside, people are celebrating Krishna’s birth with firecrackers and chanting of hymns. I am glad this JANMASHTAMI I found the answer of one question, which always alluded me. Why Yashoda Mata got more respect than Devaki Mata? It is for selflessly loving someone, who is not your own. It is about not expecting anything in return. It is about not demanding any payback. Maa was exactly that. My brothers definitely do not remember her. They were too young to remember anything. One was 4 years old and the other only 2 years. But I know that they got unflinching love from Maa, which they didn’t experience ever.

On July 19, 2009, when I was writing my blog about my grandfather on the occasion of his 50th death anniversary, I suddenly realized that I forgot Maa’s 50th death anniversary. She died in 1958 and in the summer of 2008, it was her 50th death anniversary. I forgot it completely. She loved me from the bottom of her heart and I failed to remember her death anniversary. In fact, I forgot to remember a part of my life. She was my stepmother, but she never ever behaved like a stepmother. I am her stepson, and I truly and definitely behaved like a stepson. I am an ungrateful stepson and I shall always be ashamed of my behaviour. This shame is not going to erode and corrode as long as I am alive.

I know if I could ever meet her and express my regret, she will smile and say in Bhojpuri, “ kauno baat naahi babu. Socha mat. ” ( No problem babu. Don’t think too much ) This was her pet sentence for every folly of mine. She was always a forgiving mother for me and I am a shameless, ungrateful stepson.

[ I wrote this blog yesterday. But today I added few more things, which I remembered last night after completing the blog. Hence I am posting it today. ]

Vidur