Strong Roots in Urdu/Hindi

About The Author

Avul Pakir Jainulabdeen Abdul Kalam (1931-2015) was one of the pioneers of aerospace engineering in India. For a major part of his life he worked as a scientist in Indian space programmes. Some of his famous works are India 2020, Ignited Minds, Wings of Fire. He was the President of India from 2002 to 2007.

Avul Pakir Jainulabdeen Abdul Kalam (1931-2015) Bharat mein aerospace engineering ke shuruati logon mein se ek the. Apni zindagi ke zyada hissay mein unhone Bharat ke space programmes mein ek scientist ke taur par kaam kiya. Unke kuch mashhoor kaam hain “India 2020,” “Ignited Minds,” aur “Wings of Fire.” 2002 se 2007 tak woh Bharat ke Rashtrapati bhi rahe.

About The Text

Strong Roots is an extract from Dr. Kalam’s autobiography Wings of Fire. In this extract, he talks about his childhood in his hometown. The piece presents a delightful sketch of the author’s early life and the development of his spiritual growth.

“Strong Roots” Dr. Kalam ki apni autobiography “Wings of Fire” ka ek hissa hai. Is hissa mein, woh apne bachpan ke dinon aur apne gaon ki yaadon ke baare mein baat karte hain. Yeh hissa unke zindagi ke pehle dinon ka ek khushgawar sketch prastut karta hai aur unke aatm-vikas ko darshata hai.

The Text

I was born into a middle-class Tamil family in the island town of Rameswaram Lin the erstwhile Madras state. My father, Jainulabdeen, had neither much formal education nor much wealth; despite these disadvantages, he possessed great innate wisdom and a true generosity of spirit. He had an ideal helpmate in my mother, Ashiamma. I do not recall the exact number of people she fed every day, but I am quite certain that far more outsiders ate with us than all the members of our own family put together.

Mera janm Rameswaram ke ek middle-class Tamil parivar mein hua tha, jo Madras rajya ka hissa tha. Mere pita, Jainulabdeen, ke paas na to zyada formal taleem thi aur na hi zyada dhan-daulat; iske baavajood, unke paas bhoat gyaan aur udarta/meharban thi. Unki sahayak meri maa, Ashiamma, thi. Mujhe yeh toh yaad nahi ke unhone kitne logon ko khilaya tha, lekin mujhe yaqin hai ke hamesha humare ghar se zyada logon ko khilaya jata tha.

My parents were widely regarded as an ideal couple. My mother’s lineage was the more distinguished, one of her forebears having been bestowed the title of ‘Bahadur’by the British.

Mere maata-pita ko ek ideal jodi maana jata tha. Meri maa ka khandaan zyada prasiddh tha, kyunki unke purvajon mein se ek ko British dwara ‘Bahadur’ ka khitaab diya gaya tha.

I was one of many children-a short boy with rather undistinguished looks, born to tall and handsome parents. We lived in our ancestral house, which was built in the middle of the 19th century. It was a fairly large pucca house, made of limestone and brick, on the Mosque Street in Rameswaram. My austere father used to avoid all inessential comforts and luxuries. However, all necessities were provided for, in terms of food, medicine or clothing. In fact, I would say mine was a very secure childhood, materially and emotionally.

Main apne mata-pita ke kaee bacchon mein se ek tha – ek chota ladka jo kuch khaas nahi dikhta tha, un lambay aur sundar maa-baap ke beech. Hum apne purkho ke ghar mein rehte the, jo 19th sadi ke beech mein bana tha. Yeh ek bada, pakka ghar tha, jo limestone aur eent se bana tha, Mosque Street par Rameswaram mein. Mere saadhan-sampann pita sare luxuries se door rehte the. Lekin sab zaroorat ki cheezen jaise khana, dawa, aur kapde sab available the. Mujhe kehna chahiye ki mera bachpan bhoat hi surakshit tha, saamaan aur bhavnaatmak dono taur par.

I normally ate with my mother, sitting on the floor of the kitchen. She would place a banana leaf before me, on which she then ladled rice and aromatic sambar, a variety of sharp, home-made pickle and a dollop of fresh coconut chutney.

Main aam taur par apni maa ke saath baith kar khana khata tha, jo rasoi mein zameen par baith kar khilati thi. Wo mere samne ek kele ke patte par chawal aur sugandhit sambhar, ghar ke bane hue tikhe achaar aur taaza narial chutney dalti thi.

The Shiva temple, which made Rameswaram so famous to pilgrims, was about a ten-minute walk from our house. Our locality was predominantly Muslim, but there were quite a lot of Hindu families too, living amicably with their Muslim neighbours. There was a very old mosque in our locality where my father would take me for evening prayers. I had not the faintest idea of the meaning of the Arabic prayers chanted, but I was totally convinced that they reached God. When my father came out of the mosque after the prayers, people of different religions would be sitting outside, waiting for him. Many of them offered bowls of water to my father, who would dip his fingertips in them and say a prayer. This water was then carried home for invalids. I also remember people visiting our home to offer thanks after being cured. Father always smiled and asked them to thank Allah, the merciful.

Wo Shiv mandir, jisse Rameswaram yatrion mein prasiddh tha, hamare ghar se lagbhag das minute ki doori par tha. Hamara ilaqa mool roop se Muslim tha, lekin yahan par kafi Hindu parivaar bhi rehte the, jo apne Muslim padosiyon ke saath mil jul kar rehte the. Hamare ilaqe mein ek purani masjid thi jahan mere pita mujhe shaam ki namaz ke liye le jate the. Mujhe Arabic duaon ke arth ka zara bhi idea nahi tha, lekin mujhe poori ummid thi ki yeh prarthana bhagwan tak pahunch jati hai. Jab mere pita namaz pad kar masjid se bahar aate, to vahan par alag alag dharmon ke log unka intezaar karte hue baithe hote the. Unmein se bohot log paani ke katore mere pita ko dete the, jisme woh apni ungliyaan dubote the aur dua karte the. Yeh paani fir bimaron ke liye ghar le jaya jata tha. Mujhe yeh bhi yaad hai ki log hamare ghar aakar apne theek hone ke liye dhanyavaad dete the. Pita hamesha muskura kar kehte the ki Allah, rahim wale, ko shukriya kehna chahiye.

The high priest of Rameswaram temple, Pakshi Lakshmana Sastry, was a very lose friend of my father’s. One of the most vivid memories of my early childhood is of the two men, each in traditional attire, discussing spiritual matters. When I was old enough to ask questions, I asked my father about the relevance of prayer. My father told me there was nothing mysterious about prayer. Rather, prayer made possible a communion of the spirit between people. “When you pray,” he said, “you transcend your, body and become a part of the cosmos, which knows no division of wealth, age, caste, or creed.”

Rameswaram mandir ke mukhya pujari, Pakshi Lakshmana Sastry, mere pita ke bohot kareebi dost the. Mere bachpan ki kuch vivid yaadon mein se ek yaad un do aadmiyon ki hai, jo apni paramparik poshak mein adhyatmik cheezon par charcha karte the. Jab main itna bada ho gaya ki sawal pooch sakta tha, to maine apne pita se prarthana ke maayne ke bare mein poocha. Mere pita ne mujhe bataya ke prarthana ke baare mein koi raaz nahi hai. Balke, prarthana logon ke beech atma ki sanjog ko sambhav banati hai. “Jab tum prarthana karte ho,” unhone kaha, “tum apne shareer se pare chale jate ho aur is brahmand ka hissa ban jate ho, jo dhan, umr, jaati ya dharm ka bhed nahi jaanta.”

My father could convey complex spiritual concepts in very simple, down- to- earth Tamil. He once told me, “In his own time, in his own place, in what he really is, and in the stage he has reached-good or bad-every human being is a specific element within the whole of the manifest divine Being. So why be afraid of difficulties, sufferings and problems? When troubles come, try to understand the relevance of your sufferings. Adversity always presents opportunities for introspection.”

Mere pita jatil adhyatmik vicharon ko bohot hi saadha, zameeni Tamil mein samjhate the. Ek baar unhone mujhe kaha, “Har vyakti apne samay, apne sthal, apni asli pehchaan, aur jo avastha usne paayi hai, acchi ya buri – mein ek vishisht tatva hai is saare prakat divya satta ke andar. Toh kyun mushkilon, dukh aur samasyaon se darna? Jab pareshani aaye, toh apne dukhon ke maayne samjhne ki koshish karo. Sankat hamesha atma-chintan ke mauke laata hai.”

“Why don’t you say this to the people who come to you for help and advice?” I asked my father. He put his hands on my shoulders and looked straight into my eyes. For quite some time he said nothing, as if he was judging my capacity to comprehend his words. Then he answered in a low, deep voice. His answer filled me with a strange energy and enthusiasm: “Whenever human beings find themselves alone, as a natural reaction, they start looking for company. Whenever they are in trouble, they look for someone to help them. Whenever they reach an impasse, they look to someone to show them the way out. Every recurrent anguish, longing, and desire finds its own special helper. For the people who come to me in distress, I am but a go-between in their effort to propitiate demonic forces with prayers and offerings. This is not a correct approach at all and should never be followed. One must understand the difference between a fear-ridden vision of destiny and the vision that enables us to seek the enemy of fulfilment within ourselves.”

“Yeh baatein un logon ko kyun nahi batate jo aapse madad aur salah maangne aate hain?” maine apne pita se poocha. Unhone apne haath mere kandhon par rakhe aur seedha meri aankhon mein dekha. Kaafi der tak woh chup rahe, jaise wo yeh samajhne ki koshish kar rahe ho ki kya main unki baatein samjhne ki kshamata rakhta hoon. Phir unhone neeche, gehri awaaz mein jawab diya. Unka jawab mujhe ajeeb si urja aur utsaah se bhar diya: “Jab bhi insaan apne aap ko akela mehsoos karta hai, toh ek prakritik pratikriya ke roop mein, woh sath dhundhne lagta hai. Jab bhi woh mushkil mein hota hai, toh madad ke liye kisi ko dekhne lagta hai. Jab bhi woh ek raasta nahi paata, toh raasta dikhane ke liye kisi ko dekhne lagta hai. Har baar ka takleef, ichha, aur akanksha apne vishisht sahayak ko paata hai. Jo log pareshaani mein mere paas aate hain, main unki prathna aur bhet karne mein sirf ek beechwala hoon. Yeh ek bilkul galat tareeka hai aur isay kabhi nahi apnana chahiye. Har vyakti ko apni kismat ke darr se bhare drishtikon aur us drishtikon mein antar samajhna chahiye jo humein apne aap mein poorti ka shatru dhundne mein saksham banata hai.”

I remember my father starting his day at 4 am by reading the namaz before dawn. After the namaz, he used to walk down to a small coconut grove we owned, about four miles from our home. He would return with about a dozen coconuts tied together thrown over his shoulder, and only then would he have his breakfast. This remained his routine even when he was in his late sixties.

Mujhe yaad hai mera pita apna din subah 4 baje namaz pad kar shuru karte the. Namaz ke baad, woh chalte hue hamare ek chote se narial ke baag tak jate the, jo hamare ghar se lagbhag chaar mil door tha. Woh lagbhag ek darjan narial kandhe par latkaye wapas aate the, aur tabhi woh apna nashta karte the. Yehi unka routine tha jab wo apne saathve dashak mein the.

I have, throughout my life, tried to emulate my father in my own world of science and technology. I have endeavoured to understand the fundamental truths revealed to me by my father, and feel convinced that there exists a divine power that can lift one up from confusion, misery, melancholy and failure, and guide one to one’s true place. And once an individual severs his emotional and physical bond, he is on the road to freedom, happiness and peace of mind.

Main apni puri zindagi mein apne pita ko apni duniya ke vigyaan aur takneek mein anukaran karne ki koshish karta raha hoon. Maine apne pita dwara bataye gaye aadharit sach ko samajhne ka prayas kiya hai aur mujhe vishwas hai ki ek divya shakti hai jo ek vyakti ko uljhan, dukh, udaasi aur asafalta se uthakar unki sahi jagah tak le ja sakti hai. Aur ek vyakti jab apne bhavnaatmak aur sharirik rishton ko tod leta hai, to woh azaadi, khushi aur man ki shanti ki raah par hota hai.

Only Translation

“Strong Roots” Dr. Kalam ki apni autobiography “Wings of Fire” ka ek hissa hai. Is hissa mein, woh apne bachpan ke dinon aur apne gaon ki yaadon ke baare mein baat karte hain. Yeh hissa unke jeevan ke pehle dinon ka ek khushgawar sketch prastut karta hai aur unke aatm-vikas ko darshata hai.

Mera janm Rameswaram ke ek madhyam-varg Tamil parivar mein hua tha, jo Madras rajya ka hissa tha. Mere pita, Jainulabdeen, ke paas na to zyada formal taleem thi aur na hi zyada dhan-daulat; iske baavajood, unke paas bhoat gyaan aur udarta thi. Unki sahayak meri maa, Ashiamma, thi. Mujhe yeh toh yaad nahi ke unhone kitne logon ko khilaya tha, lekin mujhe yaqin hai ke hamesha humare ghar se zyada logon ko khilaya jata tha.

Mere maata-pita ko ek ideal jodi maana jata tha. Meri maa ka khandaan zyada prasiddh tha, kyunki unke purvajon mein se ek ko British dwara ‘Bahadur’ ka khitaab diya gaya tha.