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629 Rajiv Sharma They are indispensable. They are everywhere. We pass by them merrily, inhaling the gentle aroma emitted by their florets and fruits. We run for their shelter to escape the ruthless sun of the summers or the sudden downpour of the monsoon. They never let us down. Unmindful of our heed, magnanimous trees keep on growing and spreading their shoots of compassion, silently and constantly. This lockdown, with curtailed clinical hours, my wife and I had plenty of time at our disposal to go for long walks. Every time we ventured out together for immunity-boosting walks, she would keep exclaiming on the way, “Do you know which tree it is; just look at its stunning canopy; I haven’t seen such a fruit of any tree; look at the pattern of the leaves of this tree.” Lost in my own cacophonous mind, my occasional nod or a syllable of approval weren’t enough to satiate her childlike curiosity and excitement. Therefore, she lost no time in ordering two voluminous books on trees.
11330 2 Kanwar Grewal is among a host of young Punjabi singers who have captured the imagination of protesters seeking repeal of farm laws outside delhi borders. Singer Rabbi Shergill reflects on Punjabi music — the hits, the flops, what it represents, what it could & should Punjab has been a difficult place for me. I don’t live in it but feel it lives in me. Sometimes like a warm memory, at others a dreadful one. Despite being born and bred in Delhi, living smack in the middle of the nation’s capital, in my mind for the longest time I lived on the fringes of Punjab, in some forlorn outpost. Despite living 8 km away from Ghalib’s haveli, I idolised Shiv Batalvi and Bulle Shah. I mourned the wilting of the Punjabi Delhi under the UP-Bihar onslaught. I consciously spoke Punjabi with my friends, secretly condescended to the Punjabis who had forgotten ‘real’ Punjabi values, almost never pausing to ponder over my debt to the city that hosted us. Such was the seduction and glamour of ‘Punjabi’ culture. Which mostly was just a code for Jat culture. Punjabis may have been refugees here once, but were now its lords. There was no sign of their once-miserable existence here anymore. The slums that once housed us at Kingsway Camp or Old Rajinder Nagar had given way to stacks of builder floors spilling onto roads and endless squiggles of car-lines. People living in the new shanty-hells weren’t ‘us’.