http://www.cybernoon.com/DisplayArticle.asp?section=fromthepress&subsection=editorials&xfile=March2005_malice_standard89&child=malice Quo Vadis? Tuesday, March 15, 2005 12:47:30 IST Is there a national political party we can look up to as a role model for political propriety?
The two words are Latin for "Where goest thou?" They kept going round and round my head when I read the news of the dismissal of the BJP led government in Goa, the removal of over a dozen MLAs from the state to place where they could not be bribed or bullied into supporting one party or the other. The same kind of thing happened in the past in Punjab and Haryana. The same thing is happening now in Bihar and Jharkhand. I also watched the proceedings in our two Houses of Parliament and the shore sharaaba - (noise & tumult), shouting of slogans and the Speakers adjourning debates till the next day. The same thing occurred on the day following and the one following it. So I kept asking myself and ask my readers to ponder over the question "Where are we heading for?" Also ask themselves: Is there a national political party we can look up to as a role model for political propriety? Most of my generation were brought up, had implicit faith in the Indian National Congress nurtured by the likes of Bapu Gandhi, Pandit Nehru and Maulana Azad and others like-minded who led us in the struggle for freedom. Other parties did not count for much. Then the Congress began to erode because it left its moral bearings. The BJP came up to replace the Congress as the party of the future. Then it too lost its moral stature because of its blatantly communal politics. The only remaining national parties left which have a comparatively better record of rectitude and remained untainted by communalism are the two Communist parties. However, Indian masses are reluctant to accept atheist-Marxism and their hold remains confined to a few regions. Many of us pinned our hopes in the Congress party regaining its moral stature under the leadership of Sonia Gandhi and Manmohan Singh. But the partisan way governors appointed by it in Goa and Jharkhand acted has disillusioned most of us. We have good reasons to ask our leaders; "Where are you taking us?" Prem Kirpal He died on Saturday the 26th February at 3 p.m. He was 96. His family beginning with his father Rai Bahadur Ishwar Das, Registrar of the Punjab University, Lahore, his mother, brothers and sisters and their children and grand children were like members of my own family. Many of them achieved eminence: his younger Pritam rose to be a General. His elder brother Amar Nath's son became Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. In same way, Prem was the most distinguished of the clan. He was a product of Balliol College, Oxford; taught history in Dayal Singh College before joining the ministry of education. He went on to head the Department of Art and Culture of UNESCO in Paris and rose to be chairman of its executive board. He returned to Delhi to become secretary of the ministry of education. On retirement from government service he became chairman of the chain of Delhi Public Schools. About seven years ago he had an accidental fall which broke his pelvis bone. Thereafter he was largely confined to his wheel chair. He occupied himself composing poetry and painting, and keeping an open house for anyone who cared to visit him. There was stream of callers including many attractive women. But not being in the public eye, people forgot he was still around. His going should have made front page news with tributes to his achievements. Alas! Such is the say of the world: no sooner a person is out of sight, he is also out of peoples' minds. His death was mentioned in paid-for obituary columns of two Delhi's newspapers. It hurt me deeply. I was his oldest and closest friend for over 70 years. We met almost every day because most of these years we found ourselves working in the same places: Lahore, Delhi, London, Florence, Paris, Montevideo (Uruguay), Madrid and back in Delhi. We took our holidays together: Goa, Indonesia, Bali, Kasauli. We spent winter mornings together exploring Delhi's countryside. We even shared our pet dogs. When I had to go abroad with my wife, we left our Alsatin Simba with him. He inherited Simba's son Punnoo as his companion and watch dog. Among friends a hero loses his heroic image. We were too close to him to be awed by Prem's achievements. He often called me gadha (donkey); I returned the compliment. He read very little; I chided him as th owner of the largest collection of unread books. He was a lovable man who never raised his voice in anger against anyone. He had no enemies. He was loved by everyone he met including many beautiful women ranging from Priobala Mangat Rai, Indira Gandhi, Sita Chari, Kamla Chaudhury, Savitri Kunnadi, Reba Som, Santosh Jain, and Reena Barua. All he did was to keep their photographs in his album and gaze longingly at their faces. Twice he came close to matrimony. Both times he slipped out of his commitment: once having his leg put in plaster and pretending he was ailing. He did not know elementary things about a woman's body till he was into his 40s. To the best of my knowledge besides remaining a bachelor all his life he went to his Maker a Virgin. Of such innocents is the Kingdom of Heaven. Prem was always in good cheer. Whenever we met he hummed in his unmelodious voice either a line from Ghalib Ai Jazbaae Dil or Hafiz Jalandhari's abhee to main javaan hoon. He had his poetry published at his own expense; it was pretty unreadable but he gave to everyone he met. When I told him so on his face, he would hit back: "O khotey (donkey) you know nothing about. You have to have a soul to appreciate good poetry." I said very nasty things about his paintings which appeared to me splashings of garsh colours. He had them hung on all the walls of his sitting and drawing room. If any visitor asked about them, I would warn him "don't say anything nice about them or he will give you one as a gift and you will have to live with it for the rest of your life." Prem would rise to his defence: "This gadha does not have the eyes to see masterpieces of art." The last I recall of Prem sitting in his wheel chair in his heated bed-room wrapped in shawls poring over his album of photographs. By then he was stone deaf. He gave me a mournful smile, clicked his thumb and chanted in a feeble voice: "Abhee to main jawaan hoon." Please God! Banta prayed "Hey Vahguruji, unlike others I want you to give me all the sorrows, sufferings, stress and strain and humiliations. I shall accept these as boons from you." There came a voice from nowhere: "Vahguru speaking, 'My son, you get married; have a wife and you will get all that you ask for." The great difference Q: What is the difference between 'Ghatna' and 'durghatna'?Ans: If your wife runs away it is a 'ghatna' and if she comes back that will be 'durghatna'. Contributed by Vir Singh, New Delhi -- Cheers, Gabe Menezes. London, England *********************************************************************** * G * O * A * N * E * T *** C * L * A * S * S * I * F * I * E * D * S * *********************************************************************** Greet your loved ones in Goa with flowers! http://www.goa-world.com/goa/expressions/ EXPRESSIONS - The Flower Shop. World famous all over Goa! ***********************************************************************
