Taking over

There is an old Peepal tree outside the boundary wall of our neighbour?s house facing my ancestral home in Delhi. Nobody took any notice of this poor tree except male dogs who lifted one of their hind legs to leave their scent on the trunk. That was not a nice thing to do to a tree known in Latin as ficus religiose because the Buddha attained Nirvana under the shade of one of its species in Bodh Gaya. So a fellow who could not find a job and was too proud to beg decided to put an end to the indignity the Peepal had to suffer from the penises of pi-dogs. He daubed the trunk of the tree with bright vermillion paint and made a small platform of bricks underneath it. On the platform he placed a calender print of a pantheon of gods and goddesses and lit agarbattis (joss-sticks) on its bole. Morning and evening, he tinkled a tray bell and chanted words which no one but he could understand. Very soon his presence was noticed by passersby. They stopped to look at the new shrine: cyclists got off their bicycles to bow to it and some placed a few coins in the metal plate the pujari had placed on the brick platform for their convenience. In the evening there was enough to provide him two square meals a day.

You can see new shrines of this kind going up on public land in all towns and cities of India. Since they are dedicated to god, neither the police nor municipal authorities dare to demolish them. This kind of grab in the name of god is not limited to any one community. Along the Sher Shah Suri Marg I used to pull up by nondescript graves covered with dust. Two attracted my attention because of their inordinate length. I was told they were of naugazee peer ? nine yard long holyman. Bawdy anecdotes of this holy man abounded. Today they have become mazaars, under the management of some Waqf Board which appoints caretakers (mujaavar) and collects revenue by way of offerings made by Hindus, Sikhs and Muslims. One which hits the eye is Pir Khaki Shah?s mazaar close to the Mughal Gardens at Pinjore. Ten years ago, there was only the grave under a dome; today it encloses over an acre of land enclosing the grave of pir sahib?s wife, quarters for the mujaavar, fruit and vegetables stalls. It is doing good business in the name of the departed soul.

The worst instance of grab in god?s name that I know of has taken place in Kasauli, which has been my summer abode for over 80 years. Since it is a cantonment, opportunities for grabbing real estate were limited. But some locals had the ingenuity of exploiting what was available. Three unmarked graves were taken over by individuals none of whom is a Muslim, given a fresh paint of green. Lamps were lit on the head, flowers strewn on the chaddar covering the grave and gossip spread that an offering made as mannat was sure to be fulfilled. So three enterprising men, who don?t know which direction the Kaaba is, add to their incomes by robbing the dead.

A grosser case of land grab in which the ministry of defence, then under George Fernandes, and the Himachal government were partners, was the destruction of Kasauli?s two most valued possessions ? its highest mountain peak, popularly known as Monkey Point, and its base, a grove of Cypress trees surrounding a small column, said to be the grave of two English girls who killed themselves trying to climb the hill on horseback. It was known as Ladies Grave. They were the two most sought after picnic spots for residents and visitors. Monkey Point was wrongly named because I never saw a monkey there: there was nothing for them to eat. On the contrary, on two occasions I saw a pair of leopards, who eat monkeys as they do dogs, sunning themselves on a rarely frequented footpath. And at times mouse-deer and wild cats. On a cliff facing the west, vultures had their nests. The mountain was known to the villagers as Karad Deota. Once a year they paid homage to it with some ritual.

Many summer days, on many evening walks, I rested for a while in a shed in Ladies Grave. It was a shoddy affair with a tin roof and bare white walls. Visitors drew hearts pierced by arrows and put names of lovers round them. Farmers used it to recover strength after covering long distances laden with vegetables to sell in the bazaar.

At least once every vacation, I climbed up to Monkey Point, also known to the Whites as Tapp?s nose because one of their tribe had a long snout which from a distance looked like his nose. The view from the top was spectacular. One could see the plains of Haryana and Punjab with the Sutlej river, like a silver serpent, gliding through them. There was nothing on the peak except some rocks piled into a heap to make it look like a nipple on the bosom of a giantess.

Fernandes sanctioned the setting up of an Indian Air Force colony embracing Ladies Grave. Hundreds of pine trees were cut down. Barricades were put up to bar access to locals and visitors: their favourite haunt was put out of their bounds. The Cypress grave and the tomb were uprooted to erect quarters and a mess for officers ? as unsightly a building as you can see anywhere. A small temple was built at the base for worship. A film company was allowed to put it on the peak to shoot a sequence. It was enlarged, a pujari installed, the footpath leading up to it made pukka. A myth was spread that Hanumanji had put his foot on the spot on his way back carrying the Sanjeevani tree to Shri Ram and Lakshman. Now hordes of women come carrying platters loaded with offerings for Hanumanji?s temple atop Monkey Point. The fabricated myth brings more tourists and money. So the mountain once cherished by lovers of nature has been desecrated in the name of one of the deities who had nothing whatsoever to do with it till 20 years ago. He is just a money-spinner.

Asking for the moon

Manmohan Singh: ?We are sending Indians to the moon next year.?

Bush: ?Wow! How many??

Manmohan Singh: ?We are planning to send 100 people. The break-up is: 25 OBCs, 25 SCs, 20 STs, 5 handicapped, 5 sports persons, 5 Kashmiri migrants, 9 politicians, 5 terrorist-affected, 1 astronaut, if possible ?provided he gets a place to sit.?

(Contributed by Tarlok Singh, New Delhi)