A Magic in Marbles : Bheda Ghat in Jabalpur

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After the boat turned right, the guide indicated towards some rocks of white marble that were having small pores/holes on their outer surface. He narrated the story of the shooting of the scene of gun-battle between two Bollywood heroes of yesteryears. The heroes were shooting at each other from opposite sides of the rivers and the bullets had dented the marble. Everybody was convinced by the story and hummed as a token of their acceptance of that theory.

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A rendezvous with Narmada: Dhuandhar Fall at Jabalpur

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Sometimes, when you are too passionate about something, one gets a shock when the reality strikes suddenly. Deeply enamoured in love with the river, when I was approaching it, the reality of people struck me with deep sense of sorrow. I saw the poor children standing in the waves and searching for the coins which devotees throw in the water. I stood there for a while and wanted to ask those children about their reasons to do the same and to convince them about the risks that are generally associated with such activities in the middle of a raving water flow. However, after pondering over the situation, I desisted from entering into any kind of dialogue with those children, numbering around fifty. It was the example of extreme penury striking me with a reality check and shaking my conscience. All recent events of displacement of tribals during Bargi Dam and Sardar Sarovar Project revolved around my memory and I stood there dumbstruck. The modern day reality was mean and much beyond the well-meaning words of “Dakshin Ganga” and “mekal-kanya” etc.

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A beautiful sunset at Bargi Dam (Jabalpur)

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But Chhotu drove his machine like hell. I still do not know whether he was driving in anger or driving made him happy. The other plausible reason, of course, would be his pressing urge to go to the toilet after finishing off his sorties quickly. He was putting the boat into the ultimate efficiency test. The boat was flying on the waves. At number of times, it was on air for a second or so. At other times, it skidded off the waves at full speed. Chhotu was fast and furious. I had been to the drive on the speed boat at many places in the country and had experienced the speed and the thrill connected with it. But, here was the fastest pilot driving his machine like a maniac. And, he did not say a word. I also started believing whether he could listen to our shrieks or not.

Half an hour and a few rounds of the circles on the water later, Chhotu sped his boat towards the jetty. Docked it, took the keys out of the slot and immediately sprang onto the dock. When I came out of the boat, I heard him saying “Thank you”, two evergreen words that trickled up his throat. I have yet to understand the nature of his thanks. Either it was his graceful way to thank his passengers to survive his driving that day or it was just a normal gesture from a stubborn grumpy man, who could not say anything else. Anyway, that fast drive in the speed boat was also a pleasure. What’s the fun of speed boating, if it was not dangerous? And, I was standing safe and sound on the land to start the same life once again. Thanking Chhotu in return, I returned to the Maikal Resort.

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A Brave Queen: Rani Durgawati (Jabalpur, M.P.)

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As it happens, when God takes away something, it gives something to bank upon. The queen also had some of the most trustworthy lieutenants to manage the affairs of the kingdom. I also found an old temple of Mata Sharda near the fort. In fact, it was situated just at the base of the hill. Somehow, I thought that Goddess Sharda gave immense strength to our queen to take up the responsibility while re-building her own life with the growth of her son, who was known as “Veer Narayan”. Due to safety reasons, the queen had also shifted her base to Chauragarh.

Five more years passed under the rule of queen bringing a sense of normalcy in the kingdom. Then, the destiny struck again in 1556 AD, the independent sultan of Malwa (Present day Mandu) crossed the distance of 650 kilometres and attacked the Queen thinking that he would not be met with any resistance. But, he was proved wrong. Even though, our queen was fighting her first battle, she came out victorious. Baz Bahadur had to run away for his life.

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An example of determination: Pisanhari ki Marhiya (Jabalpur)

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The competition gradually became tougher and louder till there was a total din. Amidst the chaos, looking at the prospects of not being able to find a clear-cut winner, the challenge-competition was halted in the middle. In that interlude it was the perfect time for telling the story of an old woman, who lived alone in a hut at Jabalpur about 650 years ago.

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A temple in Nation’s defence: Pat Baba (Jabalpur)

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Next morning, when his men would have assembled to start the construction again, Colonel Smith shared his dream with them. In their collective despair arising from unsuccessful attempts at building the factory, they would have decided take a chance with the dream and started to dig out the ground to retrieve the idol. I have no idea how they would have searched and found the exact place for digging. Either they would have tried at different places all over the premises or would have taken the help of some wise men who could sense the presence of any heavy object beneath the ground.

Next few days, the construction of the factory was stopped. Instead there were hectic activities in search of the idol. Finally, after a massive search and digging below the ground, the idol of Lord Hanuman was found. It must be a joyous moment not only for all the workers but also for the officers, especially Colonel Smith. He must have run to the site from his tent to see the last stages of the recovery of the idol. He must not have believed his eyes on what he would have seen. The dream that he saw was becoming a reality. Standing in front of the trench, he would have gone through the plethora of emotions ranging from disbelief to happiness and further to extreme sense of faith.

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Agahiya: A new Sufi Order at Jabalpur, Madhya Pradesh

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In despair, when I came out of the inner sanctum sanctorum, my eyes fell on the outer wall of the main dargah. There were two marble plates fixed on the walls on which the life story of the Shaikh was inscribed. Hazrat was born in Lucknow, in a family that had migrated to India from Iran. His grandfather and father were given the positions of responsibilities in the government of those times and they soon had become part of the elite class of Lucknow. Hazrat was born with a fire of longing in his heart to know almighty and was always searching for knowledge by going to one teacher to another. During such exercise, he came to know about a Sufi Shaikh Shah Maqsus Alam residing in the town of Banda. In the tender age of 13 years, he left the comforts of his home surreptitiously and went to Banda and became the disciple of Shaikh Shah Maqsus Alam. There he acquired spiritual and worldly education. After the demise of the shaikh, he went to Bareilly to become the disciple of Hazrat Tajul-Aulia Shah Nizamuddin Hussain (R.A.). Though later he got married and had children, but his life was totally dedicated to the Sufi ways and traditions. During the first war of Independence, Hazrat Meerja Agah came to Jabalpur. There he established his Sufi tradition called “Agahiya Order” and in 1918 AD, he went for his heavenly abode.\

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An evening with River Narmada: Gwari Ghat, Jabalpur

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But deep down in my heart, I knew that I had chosen for that boat ride not because of my friend, but because of the Narmada. And, the Narmada never fails. It was she, who was nursing me while I sat heads down at the Gwari Ghat. It was she, who persuaded me to cross her so as to uplift me from a very deep guilt. If that being so, it was not possible that she would be letting me stand on the other side of the Ghat for the night. While, I was brooding over all that, suddenly we saw a boat crossing past us. We shouted for help, but he did not stop and went past sailing over the water. My friend lost his control and started cursing the boatman, both who had left us stranded and also who had sailed past us.
Half an hour or so more again passed with no means to go to the other side. The fear of being stranded on the dark ghats in the night was started as a test against the patience and the faith towards Narmada. Just in time, when the faith and the impatience started to rumble in the mind, we saw a boatman sailing towards us from the other bank. Gradually, the blurred image of the boatman became crystal clear. He was “our boatman”, with his boat.

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A train journey to Sanskardhani (Jabalpur)

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One of the doyens of Hindi Movies, Prem Nath, also belonged to the Sanskardhani. He had once built a cinema hall in the heart of the city, which was named as “Empire Theatre”. From outdoor screening of the film to cinema halls and now to multiplexes, there is a great history of the growth of Indian cinema. But I still carry a fascination with the old cinema halls. So, after coming out of the Jabalpur Station, I went to a crossing where the old building of that Empire Cinema was situated. It was completely in ruins. I felt much attached with the Empire cinema and climbed up the fallen bricks to see it from inside. I was astonished to find that the speakers were still clinging to those walls. In its heydays, that hall must be the cultural hub of the Sanskardhani, graced by the likes of Raj Kapoor, Nargis and Prem Nath.

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All about Bhangarh Fort, Rajasthan

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The Mughal connection is attributed to the relationship of Sawai Madho Singh, the ruler of Bhangarh in 16th Century with Raja Mansingh I, who was a general in Akbar’s army. These two chieftains were brother. Their father Bhagwant Singh was the ruler of Amber. This Mughal association is believed to be continued till the death of Aurangjeb. When the Mughal empire weakened, Bhangarh was attacked by Jaishingh II in 1720 AD. Later, a famine broke out in 1783 AD, which forced the inhabitants to abandon the city. However, history apart, the fort premises had the reputation of the haunted place till recent years. And, such reputation became the main reason for the tourist to flow in that sleepy village.

At the first sight, it seemed that the ruins of the fort and residential buildings were scattered all over the place, which makes it difficult to see the important places without any guide. Realising the same, the Archaeological Survey of India had put a reasonably good guide map there. I tried to decipher that map, but could not succeed in the first attempt. I started feeling that such maps could be used only after one visited all over the place and returned to the map only to understand what was what. Anyway, with the help of subsequent attempts at the map, we proceeded towards what was once the jewellery market.

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On the road, from Old Pushkar to Bhangarh, Rajasthan

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Approximately 10 kilometers before the Jaipur City, we had to take a turn towards the NH 11 C through Gopalpura Bypass. The journey from Pushkar to Gopalpura Bypass was so far good and pleasant. But, I was desperate to have a cup of tea. Suddenly, I saw a tea-shop, where tea was being prepared on the log-wood-stove. An old lady owner of the shop was preparing tea. I could not resist myself and stopped the car to have a cup of tea prepared on the flames of log-wood. I felt as if I were in rural Rajasthan. Sipping that tea from a disposable cup was a different experience altogether. Such tea-shops are a rare luxury these days. But, while standing there, I was also surprised to see the attire of that lady-owner of the eta shop. She was wearing the thick silver bangles, silver necklace and the silver nose-ring. Either she must be quite rich in her community or wearing such ornaments by a married lady must be a tradition here.

The tea had the desired effect on me. With the renewed energy, we came to the Toll plaza of the Jaipur-Agra Expressway. One of the Aravalli hills had been cut for makingthe way through a tunnel. Being a Sunday afternoon there was no rush there. My wife, however, pointed out that it was the same tunnel which was depicted as the most-accident prone area in the Amir Khan’s “SatyamevJayte” programme on the road safety. Anyway, we crossed that tunnel without any difficulty and proceeded ahead and continued to our third leg of the journey.

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All About Pushkar, Rajasthan

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Subsequently, we walked upto the “Top tea stall” in Pushkar. We just had poha before and now needed a cup of hot tea. So, we sat down on the bench there for some time till we sipped the best tea of the city. The top tea in the Pushkar market was served on disposable cups. The tray was a luxury given to the families. Otherwise, you pick up your cup from the stall itself. We had settled down on the bench and were admiring the market. The market was gradually opening to a pleasant morning. The rush was also gradually increasing. People from all walks of life were coming to pay a visit to the temple of Lord Brahma.
Many foreigners, who had stayed long, had taken motorcycles to roam around the city and its outskirts. Enfield Bullet was a general favourite. In the hippy style, these foreigners were driving their bikes on the road as if the road belonged to them. Suddenly, a Rajasthani Milkman came to the Tea stall. He was a tall, lean and handsome man in his fifties wearing Kurta and Dhoti and leather Jutis. His turban was of the same type that was worn by herdsmen which we had seen on the highways. The golden ear-rings and Silver bracelet on his wrist were indicating his economic status. His confident gait and the personality were reflecting his social status that he must be commanding in his community. He sat silently and sipped his tea. After finishing his tea, he got up, paid the amount and left. I could neither click his picture nor hear his rags to riches story. But the picture of the brass containers, used for carrying milk, on the delivery-motorcycle was telling the story of his financial success.

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