Life Cycles

Life Cycles? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? Makar Sankrant? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?

Few festivals hold as much significance for me as Makar Sankrant. A day for new beginnings, hope & expectations from Life, their evolution and completion in some small but not insignificant measures.

I was just now chatting with my cousins and my mind was pushed back to the January of 1988. I was a greenhorn with Hero Honda having spent about 10 months in a new job, Till one evening Mr. Suresh Shetty asked me to check on the operations in Daman. See Gujarat was a big and affluent market for all Automobile producers, and Daman had lower Sales Tax being a Union Territory. All business entities, large and small had depots over there for trans-shipment into the adjoining States. New Delhi had some concerns about legality of certain operations and perhaps there was a sense of lesser control. I was to do a surprise visit.

Rajdhani to Sayyaji Nagri? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? The people from Hero marketing made calls late in the day to the dealers in Valsad, who were supposed to pick me up and drop me in Daman. The travel planning and execution was all my business. But I did take Mr. Shetty into confidence...I was to travel by train but return by Air. That evening I took the 2nd AC sleeper from New Delhi to Baroda. I can distinctly remember the tea and dinner the Railways served at 6.00 PM? and 8.00 PM. A little later in the evening I remember reaching Kota, after which the lights were dimmed in the train. The warm cabin lulled me into an uneasy sleep. Few hours later we were at Ratlam and then at roughly 4.00 in the morning I reached Baroda. This is where I disembarked for my next leg to Valsad. It was cold and dark. There were the Street mongrels galore, and some urchins sitting on the platform who had run up a fire and were duly enjoying the heat in the cold morning. Over cups of tea we gossiped, and learned I could catch a local to Valsad in the morning.

The Ride to Valsad

It was I believe a 1 hour run to Valsad, crossing Navsari and Vallabh Vidyanagar on the way. Remember this was a local and I was possibly travelling 3rd class, squatting on the floor with migrants and peasants some of whom were making their way to Vapi. We spoke about the fishing trade, the Ahmedabad-Bombay connection on trade and everything else under the Sun till we reached Valsad. The first thing in the early morning hours I noticed was the quiet. This small town of cotton and groundnut farmers was still in sleep mode at 11.00 AM. I walked out of the one-room station at Valsad, only to find the Hero dealer placed just outside the Station. My marketing colleagues had been efficient. The dealer was waiting with Tea, Snacks and a decent looking Ambassador.?

Munching over some hot and crisp samosas I regaled at the spectre. It was a procession of sorts. People in small coats, Gandhi cap and dhotis on cycles would come over carrying cash in cotton bags to buy or book Hero bikes. In 1988, the bookings for Hero CD100 from Valsad alone exceeded the population of that town. In our close to 400,000 bookings nearly 100,000 came from this town. It was at that time I realised we had a winner amongst us,and the color Red was the most acceptable in Gujarat. If any state made a business, then the credit should go to Gujarat and Maharashtra. Hero's success was almost entirely due to these two States.

Gujjus are nice, simple and caring people, money minded of course. I was quickly stuffed inside the Ambassador and hoiked over to Daman. In that 90 minute ride I was to note the famed Mango groves that produce the Hafoos or Alphonso strain of Mangoes. Incredibly fibrous, flavorful and sweet. While the nation took pride in having them, in addition to Cotton and Groundnuts, it were the Mangoes that were generating immense wealth for coastal Gujarat. The middle-eastern nations had taken a fancy to this fruit.

Mid Afternoon in Daman?

I reached Daman around 1.00 noon only to find the small town asleep. In 1988, Daman had three categories of people. Fishermen, Drivers and Smugglers. Almost 80-90 per cent of the population would be at Sea during the night. At Dawn thousands of boats would return, while the womenfolk waited on the beaches to sort out the last evening catch into various fish varieties. These would be quickly loaded on ice filled trucks and then the entourage would move to Vapit, to catch the morning trains which deliver the fresh at 10.00 AM sharp in Bombay.?

Naturally, the tired population would sleep all day. Late evening the same ritual would be practised again. So it was but natural that Banks would open at 11.00 AM and close by 1.00 Noon. Only to re-open at 5.00 PM and close at 7.30 PM or so in the evening. Who knows time-zones in India. Daman did.?

A Street Urchin at Heart

I have been a grounded person all my life. I respect the Rich and Powerful, but neither have I got the Airs or the Ego that stops me from mingling with normal people. I had a rollicking good time in Daman. At Dawn I would walk-over from my Hotel room to the Beach and see the Boats dumping their evening harvest. It was a back breaking effort to moor the small boats on high tide. But it was a procession, a colorful one. In one moment the Sea would be clean with nothing in sight, the next almost a 1000 boats would appear in sync. All trying to berth on the coastline.? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?

While people would be asleep I would go around the Moti Daman and the Nani Daman. It is a gorgeous sight. A small town in 2 parts-Moti and Nani joined by a over the sea bridge. Then there are the Portuguese buildings which house the Administrative offices of the Central Government, lush greenery, small, brown but unspoilt beaches. I would walk alone, alongside the waters every evening. Have a couple of Beers and food at Miramar on the beach front, see the tides come and go. Walk miles into what was hitherto waters into the domain of the Sea, looking at the rocks that were revealed when the Sea would move out. The long shallow line of the shelf convinced me why it was such a place for Gold smuggling from the Gulf. There is a smallish airport in town, which was in those days used by the Coast Guard. I would notice them doing the rounds during the day time. A surreal experience in all.

Makar Sankrant in Ahmedabad

All was quiet in Daman and then it was time to go back. I decided to go to Ahmedabad. My chacha, IRS was the chief commissioner at that time and though I did not have the address I had an idea. At the IRS colony I did not have trouble finding his house. The fun part, Chacha had gone to Kutch on an official visit. While I was leaving his apartment on the 5th floor, my chacha was arriving. We met in the lobby of his building and there we were back. Chachi was a dream of a cook, a true annapoorna who loved her nephew. Three cousins and me were served the most succulent food I have ever had in my life.?

It had rained in Ahmedabad and I found the city to be cold for comfort. But then it was Makar Sankrant as well. Nothing in the country captures the mood of this festival more than the famed Kite Festival. Uncle and 3 cousins were on the terrace in the evening, gaily engaging into Kite fights. In that small visit, I began to love Ahmedabad. There was some amount of fairness. My young cousin deliberately cut a neighbors kite when he was engaged in a duel with another. My uncle quickly intervened to shout out an apology to the neighbors. The same was duly accepted as well.?

A part of that warmth is missing in Delhi. Anyway, the second day was spent looking up some temples and the Sabarmati Ashram and then the uneventful flight to Delhi. The last 36 years of my life has seen so many changes. The people I have lost and so on. My cousins are still around, and today we did speak about those two days in Ahmedabad and our Kite Flying endeavor. All to peals of laughter and fond memories.