Jodhpur Dairies

This is my fifth day in Jodhpur and I am missing Ithaca and Cornell even more. I realize that two years of my stay in US has changed something in me which might not be very visible, and existing only in my mental domains, but increasingly it makes me realize the futility of the nations/nationalism, national/regional and parochial identity. I feel a deep disconnect with the material and cultural ethos of the land where I have spent about 20 years of my life prior to visiting US. At times, I feel that my colleagues in my office, and the city itself treats me like an ancient traveler from Greece or China. Sometimes I enjoy it because I get a chance to look at India from a very neutral and objective stand point. The importance of this stand-point is well-realized when once comes across the confusion that India generates in a mind of a lay foreigner. Staying here, in this milieu, one forgets the fact that how confusing and mind boggling India can be with its religious, cultural, social and political practices.

 I got a chance to meet a 75 year old handsome doctor Mr. Oza day before yesterday. Apparently, he seems to be engaged in the routine drudgery of a boring and mundane life of a traditional, feudal, hot and spicy Indian city. His day begins with the local Hindi newspaper called ‘Dainik Bhaskar’ and a spicy concoction of ginger, milk and tea leaves, which is popularly known as masala chay in India. And, the day thrives on the local mouth-watering foods that include katchori(Indian dumpling) and gatte ka saag (local curry made with cubes of gram flour). Finally, it ends with a boring, loud and sensational news story telecasted on ‘Aaj Tak’ (Indian news channel). However, after a conversation of five minutes I found this man to be the most interesting old patriarch in this city. Mr. Ojha in the prime of his youth, driven by the passion and a spirit, thirsty to explore the world, registered himself as a member of the team that was sent by Ministry of External Affairs to Iran at the request of the Shah of Iran.

Mr. Ojha went to Shah’s Iran as a newly married young doctor with his pretty wife. “We enjoyed the pleasantries of Europe in Shah’s Iran. The beautiful, lit roads, bridges and the night walks on the streets of Tehran and Kerman could make one feel as if he was in Europe. One could see pretty Iranian girls dressed in stunning European gowns, scarves, over-coats, hats and trousers on streets. The night life of Tehran was crazy”, says Mr. Oza. Mr. Oza recounts that one could see a distinct French influence in the dressing sense, intellectual circles and the upper elites of creative circles in Iran. I saw his eyes gleaming with youth and a little naughtiness while telling me the stories of pretty Iranian nurses in his hospital and his favorite Kababs.

Two of doctors of their team got married to Iranian Zoroastrian girls, who he calls as “Jardusthi” popularly known as Parsis in India. When Mr. Oza speaks in his fluent and chaste persian he reminds me of my Iranian friend Marjaneh from Cornell. In a picture of his youth he looks like Ahmad Zahir (famous Persian singer of Afghanistan) with his long sideburns and bell bots. He actually started humming ‘laili laili jaan, jaan and for a while he went back to 70s.

Mr. Oza then told me about the times of Khomeini. The spies of Khomeini were everywhere and people were scared even to talk about Shah and his golden days. The intelligence network of khomeni was superb. Everything changed. Night life came to a dead end and the Europeon outfits were replaced with hijabs and burqas. It was an era of fatwas. But still, our life was not interfered with. I was making beer in my house and organized lavish parties even in Khomeini’s times”, tells Mr. Oza. Finally he tells about the trial which he had to face because of his open support and praise of Shah’s Iran. He defended himself in chaste Persian in the courts, without any help from lawyers. After that episode, Mr. Oza came back to India. He wanted to continue his journey of exploring the world but the family circumstances confined him to Jodhpur and he never moved out. But, even now he talks to his old Iranian friends and is eager to know about the people who called him “Aghajaan-e-doctor”, “Azeez-e-Doctor”.  Recently, he went to the film festival and watched Iranian classic, “Children of heaven”.