Just Jottings -2

There are something like ten percent of the people in the society harboring extremist ideologies. They kill people in the society. Most of the victims of this mindless act of terror are not even remotely connected to the reason these terrorists attribute to their acts. Interestingly, every terrorist has 'genuine' reasons to put forth for killing others. Reason for killing people? Strange, but there is a section in the society that always supports these terrorists. Some people even cry for them. Terrorists are only a small number in any community. But, with their brute muzzle and fire power, they dominate the society. They take control of the thinking process of the society. The voiceless majority is then subjugated to follow the diktats of a handful of extremists. A bunch of sick minded morons, thinking that guns and bombs can bring about the changes they want to see, go about their business rather mindless of the consequences. People could be turned to extremist ideologies due to disturbed childhood, frustration on being a failure in life, hatred to the society due to metal disorder or even due to indoctrination by criminal minds. What could be going through their minds, when the extremists demolish with bombs a Primary Health Cebtre in a god forsaken village in Chattisgargh in the name of their beliefs? Innocent people are targeted mercilessly and in turn this causes division between different communities although they prefer to live in a harmonious and peaceful environment. They are always affected the most, irrespective of their religious, caste or ideological leanings.
 

That was what happened in Sri Lanka too. Extremists hijacked a community's control. Attacked the government machinery, killed their own people who opposed them and fought bitter wars with the army. They killed so many political leaders and military officials. Their brand of extremism was one of the fiercest in the world history. Blood bath was a daily routine in the Island Nation. Those extremists, as usual had very 'genuine' reasons for their killings. Strange, but that is how the terrorist mind-set works. In India some people sympathetic to these extremist outfit rever their leader as a hero. His life size pictures can be seen pasted on the walls all over in some parts of our country. This is inspite of the fact that he was the leader of a banned organisation.  India considers him as a terrorist. Imagine the reactions from people if anyone displays the images of Osama Laden in public!
 

All the blood bath was for Tamizh Ezham

The people who wanted justice against discrimination by the majority community of the country came under the heavy boots of a well trained army of extremists. At last, the Government's army moved in. Crushed the extremists ruthlessly. As the proverb goes, when the elephants make love or fight each other, the grass gets trampled upon. The helpless Tamizh population had come in direct firing line. The government army mercilessly killed the fleeing public. They raped. They stripped men and women alike. Brutally shot them dead in cold blood. Children were never shown any mercy. Blood flew like springs of water. The reckless extremists too killed people. with the same cruelty the army showed 
 

The Government army, as reported by various agencies, went berserk. YouTube is galore with blood chilling scenes of violance, although the veracity of the claims are debatable. One among such scenes is that of Isai Priya.

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N91mOD_drVg 

 

 Who did it on her? No idea, but the postings on you tube claims, it has been done by the Government Army. That, by any standard is inhuman. Isai Priya was an extremist ideologue and was a news reader in their television channel. Whatever be her political leanings, killing cannot be accepted. The needle of suspicion clearly points to the government.

The Elem war ended around four years back. That was the 4th major war fought between the rebels and the government forces. The latest war killed thousands of civilians and rendered many more thousands homeless. They are still suffereing even after four years. The Government does not care for them. The recent BBC video suggests that harassment of Tamizh population is still continuing. Devolution of power to the minority community is still a remote possibility although election took place in the Northern Lanka and a chief minister of Tamizh origin has taken charge of the affairs of the northern territory. What about the war crimes?  (This phrase 'war crimes' sounds so funny! War itself is a crime. What more crimes than this can be committed by human beings?)  The government has not yet put any serious efforts to come clean of the allegations.

 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eelam_War_IV

 

Against the backdrop of these war crime strories and post war human rights violations, CHOGM meeting is about to happen in Sri Lanka. The Prime Minister of our country wanted to attend the meeting but could not do so due to pressure against this from certain quarters. The opposition  to PM's attendance is merely political. There could not be an iota of sincerity in this demand. They cry an ocean for the people of Lanka, but shockingly none of them were  seen shedding even a drop of tear when Ilavarasan died a disgraceful death at Dharmapuri!

http://www.ndtv.com/article/south/ilavarasan-s-death-a-case-of-suicide-not-murder-says-police-in-status-report-402295

That could be due to their political exigencies. But still, PM should not go. Even India shall not be represented. That is the strongest message we can give to the remorseless government to mend their ways first. But still, let us keep our conscience very clear. Our human rights record is one among the worst in the world. We ought to remove the stains on our window panes before finding dirt in the neighbor's walls...

 

Manali -2

Rafting in the Beas river was so thrilling. Though it was nice to have a very adventurous journey, given a chance now, I may say a firm no to it. How dangerous it could become! Most of the tour operators in our country are unprofessional. Their only aim is to extract maximum money from the tourists. Customer comes last in their scheme of things. If anything unfortunate happens in the middle of a turbulence, no one could save us. Those professional rowers on board would have simply swam to safety, leaving their customers to their luck. We have seen so many accidents in Keralam involving water tourism in the recent past. So many tourists lost their lives in them.

We dried our clothes on the bank of the Beas River after the ride. It was only partly dried. We did not bring any extra clothes for the event,  since river rafting was not there in the itinerary. The car then moved to the famous Vasisht hot water spring. That is in Kullu. Kullu is a place around  50Km away from Manali. From the ice cold water to hot boiling water. That was the change over Daler had in his mind when he showed up at the hotel lobby to pick us in the morning. He has not disappointed. On our way, he showed a lot of tents on the banks of the river. He said, these tents are of the tourists. There are so many groups of excurions taking place based on tents. School children are brought to Manali is large groups and accommodated in tents. It could be really interesting. He suggested us to arrange such tours for the school children from South.

There we were now. At Manikaran in Kullu. To witness an amazing thing. The water is boiling. A steady stream of boiled water is filled in a pond and then flows away to the river. There is a temple and a gurdwara adjacent to this spring. Rice and cearials that are offered as prasadam in this temple and gurdwara are cooked in this boiling pool of water. There is no external agent to boil the water but it comes out of earth in boiled condition. Of course there is scientific reasons for this phenomenon. certainly it is not God's handiwork.

Exotic breathtaking locales need not necessarily be appealing to a child. Children's tastes are different. They may not enjoy a beautiful sun set or a charming land scape as the elders do. Instead, a cycle ride or some adventures like river rafting may make the day for the little ones. Of course, care must be taken when we choose our tourist destination. It shall be enjoyable to the kids too. Para gliding was one such thing my kid enjoyed in the tour. There are a few agencies that conduct para gliding for the visitors. On the first day of our arrival at Manali, he made his demand firmly. We planned it for the next day but suddenly the waether turned hostile. There were thunder and rain for a brief period in the late afternoon and this forced the para gliding people to abandon that day's programme. The first thing we did on the third day was to go to the para gliding spot. The kid was so excited. The happiness that blooms in the kid's face is what makes every tour a memorable one. The aborted cruise to Havelok island in Andaman is still haunting our minds. There too rain was the villain. My kid cried inconsolably when he came to know that the much fancied ship journey had been cancelled.

He has been taken to the hill top. We the parents of the single kid waited downhill with baited breath. As the child was being taken away, I made a request to the guy who would glide down with my kid- be extremely careful. We have only one child...As we watched with all anxiousness, there came the parachute carrying my son. He looked like an astronaut with happiness writ large in the face. There were a few photographeres, besides we with our own camera to capture that "world conquering" scenes. Those cameramen do their job for money. We can get soft copies of the images in a CD if we wish by paying a small amount.

That was a wonderful trip to Manali but missed out Shimla. There are bus services to Shima from Manali that takes a night's time to reach, but we decided against it due to lack of time. The driver of our taxi too told there is nothing much to see. To say it authetically, I should have visited there...

Manali -1

Daler Singh was a bit annoying. None of us were comfortable. On the previous days, we were enjoying his company. He took us to the Hadimba temple, Jogini waterfalls, snow point and so many other places of interest. We enjoyed every bit if it. Daler took personal interest to arrange the much liked paragliding by my kid. He took us to good restaurants to have lunch. He insisted us to wake up early in the morning us get ready for the go around. He emphasised if you want to sleep longer in the morning, then why came to this place spending so much of money? Pertinent question indeed. With great difficult, almost cursing Daler, everyone dared the morning chillness, got bath and was out of the hotel rooms to go with him.
 

Like in the previous days, he was present at the hotel lobby sharp at seven. It was too cold outside. In a hill station, naturally the mornings are cold. I do not like to wake up early in the morning while going on a pleasure trip. Still, some times it is like that. Today the destination was Visisht hot water spring and then back to the bus stand to return to Delhi. We traveled from Delhi to Manali by bus. There are a number of buses running between these two places. These private luxury buses are more or less highly unprofessional and customer unfriendly. The best example was the stopover at the restaurant for dinner on our way. The toilet was so dirty that, the appetite was killed. These bus operators do not care how their customers put up with such discomforts. Especially for the ladies, using the public toilets are a nightmare. The bill at the end of the mediocre dinner was something like 700 rupees. Exorbitant but the passengers had no other option.
 

Daler was the owner of that car. It was a new Eeco car he purchased very recently to take around the tourists. The hotel receptionist arranged the vehicle. We did not arrange any vehicle in advance. There was no necessity to do that because, in every tourist centre, there are so many local tour operators. It is very easy to find one of our choice. Eeco ran like a air plane at times. He was a bit rash at the wheel. On the way, Daler suddenly mooted the idea of going for a river rafting. We were not interested. None of us wanted to take that risk. The Beas River, looking from a distance itself gives a frightening view. Water flows so violently through a rocky course. We resisted with all the force in our command, but he was unrelenting. He said the fee for a person was just 700 rupees. At last he told us if we do not spend that money, he would spend it from his pocket. He was unwilling to go further without going for the rafting. It virtually angered everyone. But finally, he prevailed upon us
 

Hesitatingly, all of us got down from the Eeco. He then took us to the guys who operate the raft. There are so many all along the road that runs by the banks of the Beas River. Daler bargained and got it at a lesser price that was Rs 700 per head. We got the safety gears and readied ourselves for the adventure. The rowers of the raft guided us to sit appropriately and advised us to hold the rope tightly. The raft got into the water...The first turbulence followed immediately, drenching all of us. The water was ice cold. It almost stopped my breath for a few seconds. All others like me gasped for breath for a while. From then, the adventure started. The raft travelled through the turbulence, immersing us in water several times. Every time when we emerged from water, I threw a very anxious look to my son who was sitting behind me. With a great relief, I saw him enjoying the action. We all enjoyed every moment of it. The raft moved a little distance steadily and then fell into a turbulence and then again moved on calmly. That was really thrilling. That thrill gave way to the initial fear and we all enjoyed the journey till the end. In fact, all of us felt sad when we reached the other point.

 

 

Perhaps this river rafting was the high light of our Manali visit. We felt sorry for thinking bad about Daler. If we missed this journey, that would have remained like a lost chance to embark on an exciting adventure of  a life time...just like that missed opportunity to travel on board a ship to Havelock from Port Blair.....

 

The Grains of Nostalgia...

It was all looking blank. The new window was opened long back. Like a love struck boy or a girl, sitting in front of his/her study table switches on and off the table lamp out of boredom or anxiety to meet each other, I have been switching from one widow to the other for long without any purpose. I wanted to jot something but was gasping for words. It happens so often. The main culprit is the television. It takes away all the concentration and dedication. In the background, the song "akasa roopini annapoorneswari..." sung by the Gana Gandharvan is emanating out of the laptop like a nice breeze. Wondering, what do I exactly engage in right now? Trying to write some thing? Listening music? Watching TV? No idea but the song took me to those cycle yagnam days. Nostalgia, that is an experience. An experience that comforts the heart so effectively. Good old days when the life was spent like a butterfly, have gone long time back, but of course, memories linger for ever.

In the present situation, in a cell, surrounded by all the trappings of a modern life, there is no life. Everything happens as it has to happen. All the creatures walking on two legs are used as pawns to achieve something great. What is that great thing? No one knows but all are present at the work place sharp at seven in the morning. Sun is yet to make its presence. Still, no one gets a chance to pull the lungi from the hip and cover it over the body and curl like a millipede land enjoy these pleasant winter mornings.

I never liked to wake up in the early morning. That has never been in my daily time table. Sleeping till nine in the morning was a habit  since we reached adolescence. With great dismay, I had seen helplessly how my innocence gave way to vices like hypocrisy, selfishness and deceit as I grew older. My father had returned from Visakhapatnam by that time to lead a peaceful rustic life away from the hustles and bustles of a city life. He had a hard time waking me up in the morning those days. Not only me, but my elder brother also. We, along with the eldest brother used to sit till late in the night. U pto 11pm there was All India Radio. We sat nearby the radio to listen Ranjini one day, a radio drama on the other day and a kathaprasangam another day. How many beautiful songs Ranjini presented! Gems indeed.



Thoomba

Next day morning we slept for longer hours. My father while holding a Kerala model spade called "thoomba" goes around our compound and does a lot of physical jobs. Makes tiny bunds around the coconut trees before the monsoon starts, tiny heaps of sand (koombal) all over the compound during summer and then levels it a few months later. The entire compound looked so neat and tidy after the sand heaps were made. It was all about clearing the compound of unwanted plants and bushes once in a year. These were the simple processes an ordinary villager used to engage in, in his daily routine. In between doing so, my father comes nearby us and calls out - please wake up dears! We gave short shrift to his calls and went on remaining in the bed till we liked.

Most of the time, we did lend our helping hands to him. Working with spades were entertaining. Father stood by our side whenever we were in action. In one season, we have even ventured into the paddy field adjacent to our home. It was tough but my father wanted to do the cultivation without taking the services of the workers this time. The paddy field was full of water that time. Undeterred, we got into that. The thoomba went down and up the muddy bottom several times. Our not so strong hands struggled to lift the mud to make it a heap. Slowly the heap was seen outside the water surface. It was an exciting moment. The end result of hard work! Like that we three worked for days together. We could complete making mud heaps around an acre of the field within a few days. Before the monsoon started, father took out the seeds from our storage vessel called "pathayam". That was a wooden one kept inside a poorly lit room. The wooden pathayam had full of rice grains that we used as seed as well as food.

We three brothers at random were assigned the job of entering into this pathayam to collect the seeds. I did not like to go in, because there were a lot of cockroaches inside. Father, then deposited these rice grains in a large metallic vessel with water in it. The grains were allowed to soak for a day or two. Then they were removed and collected in large baskets. These baskets were covered with dry plantain leaves and left like this for a few days. Eventually, life sprouts out of these seeds and they are ready for a stint in this world. The smell of the new born lives is still in my nose. That was something special.

The next step was to flatten those mud heaps just above the water level and then the sprouted grains were sowed on them. We ourselves stood guard to them against the flocks of pigeons and the neighborhood chickens. These birds were a constant threat to the seeds. A few days later, there appears a green canopy in the field we toiled. Beautiful. It fills the heart with a lot of happiness. It was like so many thick green islets in the middle of a lake. There were seeds for "Virippu" and "Mundakan". WE never understood what these terms stood for, but after reaping the first cultivation, the paddy grew again and after a few months, it again yielded. The first one was called virippu and the second one mundakan.

From the islets, they descended on the bottom of the field as they grew up. Workers, using thoomba, remove the seedlings from the mud heap and place them in the field. Another group stand in a row and spread these plants all over the field. The entire stretch of the paddy fields would have reached this stage by now. Monsoon at its peak pours enough water to these tiny plants. Wherever we looked, we could see only greenery. The harbinger of prosperity was through these paddy fields for the villagers.

At last, the paddy is ready to be harvested. Several men and women cut the paddy and stack them in bundles in the compound of every house. Scores of men and women, carrying bundles of paddy walk on the bunds between the paddy fields in a line is a common scene during the harvest time. Later, they extract the rice grains from the plant by trampling upon the bundles. Once this was over, the rice grains were measured and a part of it was given to the workers as wages. Everyone disperses happily. Nothing new in it. That was how the life was throbbing in the villages like a well oiled machine. Luckily, the society never allowed the oil to be contaminated by vested interests

 

It was not about big bank balances, villas and sedans. There was simplicity in everything. None of them perhaps aimed at becoming a VP or a country manager. Five to six siblings along with their parents and grand parents lived a happy and contented life for years. The children has enough play grounds and enough time to spend with other children. Those kerosene lanterns gave more light than the hi-tech lamps of the modern era, literally.

Now, those paddy fields in my Olavaipe wears a deserted look. It is a pool of saline water from the adjacent back waters. Weeds filled all over. From all the sides, people reclaim the paddy field and convert into land. There come up big houses. That was what we love to call the development of our village. None of us are no longer interested in cultivation nor in wielding a spade, go around and make bunds around the coconut trees. Rice is available in the ration shop for Re.1 and coconut oil is cheaply available in the market. Vegetables are available in kits in the market, price of which we never ask. We too are living in an urbanised village where agriculture is considered a low class activity....

 

 

 

 

Just Jottings-1

22.10.2013 :

Today is Karva Chauth. My nephew told me. He is in Himachal Pradesh and he came across the celebration there in the day. He narrated how the people are celebrating the occasion. Bur what is Karva Chauth? I heard it for the first time from him. In the era of Google, there is no need to blink. Any information is available there and I got it.

How many festivals we have! Life is a celebration and in all its beauty, we celebrate it. The Google search gave very interesting reading about the rituals associated with Karva Chauth

 

 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karva_Chauth
 

Ladies observe fast from dawn to dusk on this day . "The fast begins with dawn. Fasting women do not eat during the day, and some do not drink any water either. In traditional observances of the fast, the fasting woman does no housework. Women apply henna and other cosmetics to themselves and each other. The day passes in meeting friends and relatives. In some regions, it is customary to give and exchange painted clay pots filled with put bangles, ribbons, home-made candy, cosmetics and small cloth items (e.g., handkerchiefs). Since Karwa Chauth follows soon after the Kharif crop harvest in the rural areas, it is a good time for community festivities and gift exchanges. Parents often send gifts to their married daughters and their children." Very interesting, isn't it? 
 

My nephew gave another information last year. That was about Congo. He went there as a part of the Indian Peace Keeping Force to impose peace treaty between the government and the warring factions. Google search to the African countries throws information to the appalling conditions in which people live there. The poorest of the poor countries are further made poor by a bunch of senseless people. Congo is one example. Look at Somalia or Ethiopia. Situation is nothing less than horrible.

 

In Congo it is the Government versus M23. Fighting rages on, then they make peace and then they fight. Look at Somalia. Why do they fight? It is difficult to comprehend, but they live like this. They get sophisticated arms to kill people. Nobody knows from where they manage to get such weapons of mass destruction. Life is extremely hard there. Armed conflicts are considered the only way to solve the problems. Not only in Africa, everywhere except India and the developed countries, that is how people sort out the issues. Sadly, they never understand that, no problems on this earth could ever be resolved using guns and bombs. They would have never heard of the word Satyagraha.
 

 

http://www.spiegel.de/fotostrecke/photo-gallery-a-half-million-children-face-starvation-in-east-africa-fotostrecke-70951-5.html

 

We can only wish a Mahatma Gandhi or a Gautama Buddha is born in these hopeless countries and teach the people the virtues of non violence. Problems can only be solved if people can realise the importance of non violence. Smile and keep calm even in extreme provocations...That is what Bhagavan Krishnan taught our society and we are the proud followers of that great incarnation. Perhaps, another birth by the Bhagavan is badly needed in the God foresaken hinterlands of the globe to save the helpless mass who reel under a handful of trigger happy insane human beings

 

A mercy petition

For the past several days I am not keeping good health. Why only past several days, I think, since my birth, I have been facing a problem or the other with my health. Did you ever notice, most of our community members look so bad like me? Everyone of us has some kind of problem with our health. This was not our making but the outcome of the misdeeds you indulge. Did you see what type of water we drink? It is black in colour. It is mixed with all the chemicals you use or rather forced to use. I and my community members are not able to drink water that could be as pure as that you use in the toilet. 

 

How much water you waste for a single day? Water flows off the tap without any use most of the time. Look, we have no water to drink. We dip our head in the dirty sewage water to sustain our lives. By the way, do you really require to use such a heavy dose of cream to have a shave everyday? Is it not possible to avoid applying such chemicals once in a week for the sake of the other creatures living at your mercy? Just use a little warm water, wet your chin with it and then use a good razor. Please try it for a day in every week at least. Let that water flow out. For the God's sake, if you do that, I and my friends and relatives shall have stomach full of "pure" drinking water once in a blue moon. I have not seen clear water since my birth.

 

Who's responsible for this?

You dig deep into the earth to get water while contaminating all natural water sources with your wastes. There are Reverse Osmosis, Ultra Violet treatment and umpteen numbers of filtrations to make bad water to potable water. You know, some vested interest groups even contaminate water sources to sell the products? Ulimately, the so called friends of yours suffer the most. Water all around me is black in colour. It stinks too. Life in the middle of such filth is unbearable. Who gifted this life to us? Did you spare a few seconds to think about this? You may not have time to think about others, not even for the crores of human beings who too find it so hard to find drinking water. Like me and my community members, almost all living things in the world struggle to find clean water, thanks to your senselessness.

 

It is not only about water, even the food we eat is highly contaminated. We rummage through the heaps of wastes you produce in your dwelling places and then pack up in the obnoxious plastic bags and throw to the streets. We get to eat only the wastes you throw. We are not sure what is the level of poison mixed in these food wastes, but I am sure you too eat poison like this. You know, the rice in the beautiful bags are mixed with pesticides before it was packed? . Just wash a cup of rice with your hands, an oily substance will be sticking to your hands. I overheard from a group of people while discussing this. It is really dangerous for you too, but still, your compatriots never show mercy to you too!

 

"This plot for sale" "Luxurious villas for sale", "this property belongs to XYZ" ...There are so many such hoardings and sign boards sprouting all around. Every inch of the land is occupied by you. Who told this land belongs to only you? Fom where did you get the total rights over the earth?  May I know, where shall we go? Where shall we find shelter when there is rain? You make palatial living places all around. To stop us from enetering, you make big walls and gates. Empty places are fenced. We have no place to go. Our food and water are poisoned by you. We have only street food and sewage water. No place to live in...

 

Still you say we are nuisance. Is not the other way round dear friend? You often complain of our presnece in the locality. Your comfortable stay in the ivory towers are disturbed by us! One day a caged truck turns up in the locality. Some people emerge from this vehicle with a crude device. They pounce on us, trap us in the device, throw the unfortunate ones to the truck so mercilessly. Did you ever give your ears to those excruciating hawls? I heard them with a numb in my heart and helplessness from a safe distance. I do not know when that dreaded noose is going to tighten around my neck. Still we do not complain. We still remain your best friends. We have only one prayer. One day you will change. Realise the mistakes. Learn how to live in harmony with the nature and other living things

http://www.ndtv.com/video/player/news/bangalore-dog-catchers-under-fire/12288
 

I am not sure if our prayers will be heard by our creator. He has no time to listen to us. You build magnifient abodes for Him. Place lightining arresters at the top of it. Keep heavily armed security guards outside to protect him. Priests and servants to take care of Him 24 x 7. You offer Him kilos of gold and bundles of notes. He in turn showers blessings on you. There is no place in his vast heart even a place that is as small as a mustard seed. We cannot build such maginfienct buildings for Him and proclaim our faith in Him through the blaring loud speakers. We are lost out. like all other creations. Of late, God has started thinking that He has to take care of only human beings. Ultimately, we are at your feet, begging for a little mercy, a fraction of that you show to the mass murderers, rapists and terrorists  We don't demand your heart to bleed for us, but please let us live with a little dignity, please.... 

Desert Living -12

Syria : 17.12.2009

 

Let me return to India, I shall get into a fast unto death agitation till the central government announces a separate state of Olavaipe. Development is not coming to my village. As I have been telling through my earlier postings, except three government institutions – the LP school, the ayurvedic clinic and the post office - we have nothing to boast of. Even in these three institutions, patronage is too less. Their survival is in crisis at present. I too need to develop. How long should I work like this? How long should I continue counting Gandhi in just thousands?
 

India has been divided into states, first in the name of language and then, of late, in the name of development. Now perhaps people are making hue and cry to make smaller states only with a view to make their own fiefdoms. Look at Uttarakhand. Madhu Koda, till the other day, was a labourer in some mines. His daily wage was a desperately low figure that never crossed two digits. In a newly formed state, that was formed in the name of ushering in development to the region, only Madhu Koda and his accomplices could develop. More states create more Chief ministers, Governors, Bureaucrats and resultant large scale corruption. Nothing more than this was achieved in the recent past in the name of separate states.
 

By the way, today is ‘Kuchela dinam’. It is believed that this day Kuselan visited his long lost friend Lord Krisha at his palace. Though both the friends differ like chalk and cheese in the case of their financial status, on the ground zero, the intimacy of the personal relation got better of it. This story underlines the importance of relations, especially friendships. Nothing like social status, lack of time or fat bank balance shall stop us from saying a hello to our friends and relatives once in a while. If there is will, there is way too. But remember, no kuchelan shall be entertained if it involves any financial implications, for, we are no Krishnans!!
 

Also, today another significant incident took place in our office. Our construction manager has come to office sharp at 7 in the morning. Let me repeat, sharp at seven. He otherwise never turns up in the office before 8 and invariably leaves the office by 3 in the afternoon. Keeping all of us in the desert camp, he lives with his wife in the nearby city. He travels up and down daily. When he came to site office today, not many of the guys were present in the office. Most of us come to office by 715 or even later. However, I, as usual, was present in the office at 645. Today, for the first time, the boss saw that the office is almost empty when the office is supposed to start. He immediately sent a circular, instructing everyone to be present in the office latest by 7. Look, boss can do anything. He need not be the leader by example. Who will ensure the punctuality of the work force? The boss will never be there to see them keeping the time.
 

Our friend Vincent has a blog spot about the Hindu Religion. Recently he had posted my write up about Ramayanam with the title Ramayana masam in his blog spot. By no way, I have propagated any particular ideology through that write up. I never saw it till now. Recently I had tried on the google to search the name of our village Olavaipe. Then vincent’s bolg- spot was there and my story was the first in that. When I clicked to open this blog-spot, I was shocked. It is blocked here! Whatever be the reason for this, I never digest it. The people whom I came across in Syria so far are very nice ones. They are very simple. Though they are very religious, religion by and large is a private affair for most of them. Thankfully fanatism is not seen so far among them.

 

I could see a special kind of glow in their faces, when I say to the young workers and technicians here “you are so good”. Really these words go straight into their hearts. They want to hear it again and again.
 

As a general principle, good and bad people are existing in every society. Remember, at one point of time, USA was toying with the idea of having peace talks with moderate Taliban elements? Look, even in the extreme and stone age ideologies too, we were able to see something positive! People with exceptional intelligence like George Bush only could identify this.
 

Surely, all angles have not descended on this part of the world and settled down here. They are proportionately distributed in this world. Why the government and the institutions that lead the people can not let winds of various cultures enter their homes through the windows of their hearts? Like China why Syria too fear this? I felt so sad about this. It is unacceptable to the free citizens of any country to let the government decide what we should choose.
 

We can see isolated houses in the vast expanse of lands in Syria. One family lives amidst nothing. Even water will not be available. They fetch water in tanker lorries. A few hundred meters away, there may be another house. Like that I could see three or four houses in this locality. I do not know why they live like this. For everything they may have to depend on the outer world, that may be even hundred kilometer away. Even in a medical emergency, they can never expect any help. There are hundreds of houses dotting the Syrian open lands like this. Do they really care for their children’s education? Don’t they prefer a life in the middle of a cultured society? Whatever be the factors that are forcing them to live here, it is extremely deplorable. They possess weapons for self defense. Every house possesses at least a vehicle. There is no question of public transportation here.
 

Any takers for such a life? If space tourism or a moon walk is not possible, let us have at least a day out in one of these houses.

A letter for you, Governor!

Dear Governor, 

My hands are trembling as I am typing. Heart beats might have crossed 200 per minute. I see only darkness everywhere. The television set in front of me shows people running for their lives. It is another terrorist attack in a shopping mall. They were asked questions about religion. Those who could not answer were shot -at point blank. Morons are out once again to save their religion! In fact only morons are there to protect religions or to be more precise, only morons are following religions! The television is showing news about another bomb blast in Pakistan. The death toll is more than eighty people. Death, destruction and horror. Is there any place safe in this earth? Religions have made this earth a dangerous place to live in. 

 

http://www.theguardian.com/world/2013/sep/23/pakistan-church-bombings-christian-minority

Are you wondering that why do I tell this to you! Of course, you may not be affected by such calamities because you are always surrounded by black cats. When a bomb goes off in a street or a communal violence occurs, it is the common man who suffers the most. Even in Musaffarnagar, most of the victims were poor people. For their religions that can give nothing in return, they killed and died. They would have hardly had a good house to live in. They could be daily wage earners. if a day's work is stopped, they could not get their wage. Still, they are dragged into this madness and blood is shed to save the religions and Gods. No God will come to their rescue. Gods are calmly spending their time in the well decorated places of worship! 

Logic has no place, dear Governor, where fear takes over the brain. I have been typing something irrelevant to you. I am worried, I am concerned. I am helpless. It has happened in our country and it can happen anytime and anywhere again. 

Mr Governor, I shall come to the point. You hiked the RRR yet again. I know nothing about RRR but I very well know my bank would have increased the rate of interest on my home loan the moment you announced the increase. You, like the pundits in economics used jargon abundantly to hand out the shocker. My ever-at-service bank increases the interest rate on home loans whenever the RRR goes up. Five years back, it started with 8.5% interest rate and now it has reached 12 percent and raring to go up. 

There was a boom in the real estate five to seven years back. Those days, the experts in economics predicted a lot about golden era in economy. They said, it was the right time to invest in real estate and the bank rates are set to go down to encourage home sector. They predicted so many other things on inflation, performance of Indian Rupee against USD, Balance of Payment, Trade Deficit, the list is very long. The picture these pundits drew had so many roses in it. Now, I think the same experts are at pains to explain the reasons why their predictions went wrong. This is how exactly a meteorologists predicts about rain! Please note, dear Governor, I had paid nearly two lacs rupees towards income tax and the interest paid on home loan was around 1.5 lacs last year . The eye popping salary and the perks you enjoy contain a fraction of my sweat too.

When you took over the reins a few days back, the elitist English media was celebrating. They called you the poster boy. They showed us another poster boy some 20 years back. He too, like you, was a Governor. He was touted as the Messiah of economic reforms. The media also told us that in another 20 years from the incarnation of this Saviour, India's fortunes will turn the corner and proceed straight to a prosperous world. 

You gave the inaugural speech. The English media almost compared it with that of JFK's. They said it was electrifying. They said, a star has risen in the horizon. Another Saviour has at last reached! Immediately after your speech, the SENSEX soared. Rupee gained and so many miracles happened. By the way, what is this Sensex? How are common men affected by the ups and downs of this? I have no idea, for, I do not follow the Sensex. Of course, I see so many articles in the magazines about sex! It is a trend now to mention something about sex on the cover sheet of any type of magazines in our country. 

Since the advent of the economic reforms, the pundits 'guided'the neo-rich citizens of the country to go for Systematic Investment Plans, Equity Linked Insurance Policies and other 'money making' devices. Some tie wearing, fluently English speaking business executives targeted me too. They explained to me the virtues of these products. They waxed eloquent about the economy. They said, it is booming and the future of investment is in such products. I could not understand a word of what these people said, but I was in a hurry to invest. I was given a few papers to sign. These papers were application forms that were not filled up. The business executives did this job by themselves in their anxiousness to serve me. They were ready to do anything - till I signed on the dotted lines. Cheque signed and handed over to the executive. There ended the customer service. I was politely informed by some of these executives at a later date that he/she was no longer working with that particular set up.

That is a fact. It is time we sat back and stared thinking aloud about what the elitist-triggered reforms brought about to the common man of the country. As a section of the society made rapid strides in their lives due to the changes, the other side of the coin had been always reflecting the degradation of moral values. No need to care for this, because money makes us overlook this dark side. My only question is, should we need a Governor to govern an institution that has nothing to offer to the man who contributes a fraction of his remuneration and the man on the street who is affected the most because of the all around price rise 

Desert Living -9

Syria 28.11.2009

This time too my name is not there in the list of India’s ten richest people. I feel largely disappointed. Even after toiling like this for the past two decades, what did I achieve? I do not own a posh villa in the metropolis, I do not own a S class merc, I do not have a club membership. I don’t think moksha is possible in this birth. But still, there is a saving grace. None of the guys and gals I know too do not appear in the list!!

Shilpa Shetty’s wedding dress was worth 75 Lacs. Still many parts in her body could not be effectively covered. When she decided to dress up in the traditional way it could have been a little more decent. In reel life however she reveals everything for money. At least in this real life event she should have appeared as a ‘bharatiya nari’ .

Though the life is in the desert, we never feel scarcity of anything here. Water in abundance – open the tap, clear water flows nonstop. Open the refrigerator – unlimited numbers of packaged drinking water bottles are stacked in it. Switch on the air conditioner it gives hot or cold air as per our requirement. Another switch starts the TV and another one water heater. But, interestingly, no one needs to switch on any of these gadgets because none of them are switched off ever. Just click the print tab on the PC, reams of papers are printed by the printer within a few seconds. Guys print anything they feel like, even if it is of no use. There are many instances where people print hundreds of pages by mistake. They do not even turn up at the printer to collect these ‘waste’ papers.

As I have been typing this, I have just dropped a water bottle into the bin. Still a little water was remaining in it. But who cares for it? Water is supplied in sealed bottles of One and a half litre capacity. Imagine a minimum of one bottle each is consumed by each person everyday. How many plastic bottles will be dumped into the dust bins? This camp consists of at least 200 people. So, two hundred bottles are added to the disaster called plastic.

Human insensitivity towards climatic changes and global warming is alarming. Waste - this is the most produced item in Gulf, especially at project sites.

In a well developed industrialized Gulf country, we can see tens of flares. Unused gas and petroleum products are burnt away through these flares. It is frightening to look at them. The flares will have heights even as high as 50 meters –in my guess.

As all of us know, more than 90% of the people working in the project sites in Gulf are from India and other developing/undeveloped countries. They must know the value of everything. Still, the way they behave suggests that there is no tomorrow for them.
 

For example, the air conditioners. Every container used for accommodation and office at site are provided with air conditioners. Everyone leaves his room by the day break only to return by late in the evening. During this long gap, the air conditioners will be working. No one cares to switch them off. The excuse is that, if the ac is switched off, due to no circulation of air, room will be very hot. So, when they come back from job, the room will be too hot to enter. They can not afford to sit in the room just for a few minutes in the hot room.

Next come water heaters and exhaust fans in the containers. None of these equipment are switched off, while the occupants leave the container. A large campus at a project site may contain upto 200 hundred to 300 hundred portable cabins. If all air conditioners, water heaters and the toilet exhaust fans are working round the clock, what will be the power waste? We can see huge diesel generators of minimum 500KVA capacity lined up in the camp that will run non stop.

Tissue papers have very great demand here. We Indians, as far as my belief goes, use handkerchief to clean our hands, face mouth and nose. Here, the same Indians, after washing their hands, just pulls out several pieces of tissue paper and use them to clean various parts of their body and dump them in to the waste basket. For each sneeze, several papers go down to the drain.

Frightening. But we all learnt to live with this fear. No matter how difficult the consequences be.

No amount of story telling about desert living will not be complete if something about Kuboos is not mentioned. Without Kuboos, life in Gulf is not complete. When I landed in Qatar last time, I had the first encounter with this Arabian bread. It is like our chapathi in shape but is made of a blend of maida and cornflake flour.and a little bit of yeast. It is baked instead of toasting like our chapathi. It has no specific taste. So like our chapathis, we have to eat it with some dish. Kuboos are made in mass quantity and are packed in plastic covers and like our bread are sold in shops. Arabs use this as their main food item. I believe, if we can learn the right combination of the Arabian bread, there is a good scope for making it there in India. I am sure it has a good business potential. Who knows one day you will not be known as a Kuboos baron! Take a plunge and see the result. I shall buy them regularly.

A few days ago I came across a very interesting scene. With sincere apologies to all you good human beings, may I say this too is a story related to animals. The other day, when we were on our way to the site, we spotted a herd of sheep grazing on the bushes. To guard them there were three dogs. When these dogs spotted our car from a distance, they took position as if an enemy is approaching them. As the car neared them the dogs stared barking and running after the car menacingly. The car sped past these animals unmindful of their war cries. The dogs ran for a distance and stopped. What must the dogs have thought of this incident? They must have felt proud of doing their duty of protecting the sheep from the enemies. They did their duty with sincerity.

And the master? What would be the master master doing while the dogs were on duty? He must be stretching himself in a well cushioned arm chair and sipping a cup of chai (Chai in Arabic means tea as in India). Or enjoying kuboos with a deliciously cooked mutton fry along with his favorite sauce. The loyal guards do their duty with all sincerity, even ready to lay down their life for their master. Most importantly, without laying claim to the fruits of this “karma”. How many of us can follow these dogs on their karma path? I never like to abuse anyone by calling him/her dog. This, by any standard, is a direct affront to a noble animal. We shall never insult this animal by equating it with human beings!

The sheep eat grass for their master. Somewhere in the shelter the master is counting the money these sheep are going to generate. They may hardly realize that the end destination of all of them is a food processing centre. Food processing centre is the decent name for the slaughter house.

The dogs, when they grow older and render useless for the master, will also be deserted by the master. They will be thrown to the streets forcing them to fend for themselves.

This is life. Emotions and bonds have no place in life. Everything is as per convenience. Attitudes and relations change as per situations. But still dogs are ever ready to bark and bite and even lay down their lives for their masters 24x7.

Cruelty, thy name is human being!

At last justice has been dispensed with, in time. Well, that is how it looks to all, for now. Only time will tell if this judgement will be taken to its logical conclusion by the concerned parties. There are so many interest groups in our country that include some human rights organisations to change the course of law to the directions of their choice. Human beings from time immortal do not hesitate to do cruel acts on other living beings, be it their own fellow humans or helpless animals.

Cruelty is a part of the human mindset. When a chicken is caught from it narrow dingy cage by its wing, it makes desperate noise. Probably it does so out of pain. The butcher then puts it on the weighing balance. In the next moment, a knife dips into its neck. He immediately drops the bird into an empty drum where it writhes in pain for a few seconds....The buyers of the chicken meat watch, with shocking passiveness, all that is unveiling right in front of their eyes. Everyone enjoys the action as if they all see a comedy movie. In Pondicherry, goats are cut on the road side itself, nearby the make shift meat shops. In the world, in so far I have seen, only in our country, animal flesh is displyed on the road sides with blood still oozing out. Probably there will be some more countries like ours, but let us not compare our country with theirs

Those men in Delhi not only raped the young woman but did much more. They murdered her mercilessly. The only mistake she did was that she was born a woman. Of late, we are all realising with a big shiver in our bodies that, punishment for being woman is increasingly becoming barbaric as the modern world is progressing to 14th year. I never call these men animals, because animals can never be so cruel. They attack other animals only for food. Animals have sex only for sustaining life. Sex is a nature instilled process that never crosses the "red line".

Remember the phrase 'red line'? US president used this around an year back.  It was presumed to be as powerful as the legendary Lakshmana Rekha. The context was Syrian civil war. As feared by the world's most powerful man and also by the feeblest man on the Syrian streets, gas has been used. More than 400 children along with a few hundred adults died like cockroaches. Who did it? No idea, but we have some speculations so far.  The needle of suspecion is clearly pointing to the president of Syria. This is the way human psychology works. Once the balance of mind is upset, nothing is in his hands. Disaster is the outcome of such madness. Helpless human beings bear the brunt of such mindless violence.

The world now receives the news of Syrian response to the proposal to surrender the gas with great relief. It is not correct to use the term Syria, it should be the ruler of that poor country. At last, some sense is dawning in the killer President's head. The Russian president supports the reckless president, not the Syrian people, it looks. Dark clouds of war blow over. It is heartening, because, US has relented from yet another war. Let us all hope that the autocratic president surrenders his gas weapons along with presidency as early as possible. Syrians has enough of him. Let the US keep her pressure on the heartless dictator and his supporters till they abide by the rules of the game.

At least one bird in a day is run over by speeding vehicles in this island. The unsuspecting bird, it can be a pigeon or a mynah often sits on the middle of the road searching for its food. In the quest for its livelihood, it forgets to realize that there are monsters roaming about and they can take away its life within a second. The men at the wheels hardly think that every life is created by the Almighty who created them too. Men do not think every life has right to exist because, normally once they get to hold the steering of a vehicle, adrenalin level in the blood raises much above the acceptable levels. Snuffing out a life is not man's business. But still, he does not want to alert the poor bird or stop for a few seconds to allow the bird  to fly away. What urgency these men got in this islet that cannot save a life, how much ever insignificant it be?

It is in the upbringing. As children, many of the boys in our gang used to stone to death if we spot a chameleon. Children believed that a chameleon had the power to suck blood from the body through the navel from a distance. The beleaguered creature dies a horrid death within no time. The same fate awaited the tiny poison less country snake that mistakenly shows up in front of the civilized society. These snakes feed on frogs and rats. The beleaguered sound emanating from a frog that is trapped in a snake's mouth is a usual thing in the country side. Even that croak in distress sometimes sounded like music to our ears! There was no boy in the village who has not stoned a dog. The painful howls of the dog give an unexplainable pleasure to the people who do this nasty act and the onlookers. The same is the mental condition of a person who whips out his smart phone, switches on the video camera in it and catches the scene of an accident. The number of this tribe is increasing alarmingly.

That is in the genes but varies from person to person. In a majority of people, these genes are hibernating. A man who is taught to be compassionate to fellow living beings from childhood days can never do any harm to others. It is important to study a little bit of moral science along with tremendous quantity of Mathematics, Physics, Biology and Chemistry. Classes shall start right inside the homes. Do we have some time to spend for the young generation to show the right path? Gandhi is very relevant here too....

Desert Living -18

Here is a narration of a spectacular scene. Three cars meet at a tri-sectional road. One car reaches first and on sighting an oncoming car from the opposite direction, stops before taking a turn. The oncoming car also stops at the junction. Then comes the third one from the third direction. That car too stops at the junction in order to facilitate the other cars to move on. There was no traffic signal at the junction, but still these men at the wheels showed tremendous patience to drive safely and above that, decently. That, all those drivers were Indians make the story so far an unbelievable one. It happened not in India but in a foreign country makes the rendition sensible anyway. In the countries, where strict rules are there, our countrymen are more than happy to follow them. In fact they are the first ones to stick to the rules

The above incident happened in Das Island, where only a few hundred vehicles run. One of the drivers signalled the other one to move ahead first and then the "log jam" has been cleared! This is just a normal scene on the roads where stringent laws are in place to deal with erring motorists. Not only rules exist there, but they are implemented with equal straightforwardness. Heavy penalties in terms of money and punching the licence act as deterrent to one and all who tempt to show there skills on roads. Law enforcement agencies do not simply pocket a few bucks to let off the wrong doers.

If you spot a non air conditioned Tata or Asok Leyland bus on the roads of the desert, just think that this bus is used for transporting labourers working in the construction field. In Qatar, Friday afternoon session is considered a holiday. At around four in the evening, the contractor arranges a bus to take people who are interested to go to the nearby town to buy some essential goods or to have some good food. It was a Tata bus, non air conditioned and above that, all the seats used to wear a thick layer of dust. These were the buses used for ferrying the workers at site. 
 

 Imagine wearing a coat with a thousand pins inserted in it. Stand in a hot sun, wield a pick axe and hit the hard soil continuously. The humidity is almost 100% and the temperature could be anything above 40 degree Celsius.  The entire cover-all, the uniform everyone wears in a construction site will be wet in the opening hours of the work itself. How irritating it is to wear fully drenched clothes and indulge in physical jobs! This is how the human beings work in a desert. 

Perhaps, more disgusting thing about the life in desert is that at the end of the month, the money they get in hand must be something like 15 to 20 thousand Indian rupees. For this, the miseries and hardships they endure is unimaginable. For several months together they do not get to see their near and dear ones at home. They are in a way condemned to lead a monotonous life in the labour camps in the deserts.

The facilities provided at their dwelling places is always minimal. Four men are squeezed into a small box type shelters, where two tier beds are provided. Bathrooms and toilets are provided outside their rooms, that are shared by everyone in the camp. Mediocre quality food is served in the 'C' mess. There will be long winding queue in the mess to get the food. In Qatar, I was mistakenly guided to the labour mess that was known as 'C' mess. I have been served rice and dhaal and then a side dish. Kuboos was stacked nearby. People could pick them as much as they needed. It was such a meagre food that I could not eat it properly. There were no tumblers to drink water. The workers were supposed to bring bottles and fill water to drink! I was surprised to see how shabbily the workforce is treated at a construction site camp. Even the 'A' mess for that matter was no better than the C. There, we got chapatis that resemled very close to rubber sheets!

The other day, a supervisor with a sub-contractor had articulated the plight of the workers. He said, there were labourers who take home a monthly salary of as low as ten thousand rupees and their tyrant boss combined with an indifferent Personnel and Administration department do everything to see that the men who do the real work at site get the remuneration as low as possible. There were not even a single penny given as increment for the past three years. They work for 12 hours everyday. This includes four hours of over time. On Friday the full working hours are considered as over time. Like that they earn something that need to be sent to the family back home. 12 hours on all the seven days of the week!

The subcontractor has only one non air conditioned bus to ferry nearly three hundred workers to and from the site. The entire process takes more than one hour to complete. By the time they reach the mess, half of their rest time would have passed. Then the queue in the mess and then back to work. By this time, the boss would be chilling out in his fully furnished single room. He takes food from the A mess where varieties of food is arranged to consume as much as he pleased. There are different kinds of fruits and sweets in addition to the rich food menu. If he still need something more, he can order ice cream or  a ginger tea.

Most of the workers come from India dreaming of big things. Many of them had since converted their dreams into reality and the process is continuing. The price they pay for this is a lot of unpleasant things in life. But still, good number of people, who earn so little, spend a major part of their earning for personal comforts like liquor and cigarette. Even if liquor is scarce in the desert countries, these people manage to get them as much as they need. This again eats into their earnings. At the end of the month, what could be the amount they send home?

 

The other day, a plumber's help was sought to fix two water taps and some minor repairs in the pipe line at my Pondicherry home. It was all over within three hours. The plumber took away thousand rupees for that. An electrician charged four hundred rupees to fix four fans on the ceiling. A labourer in Keralam is paid five hundred rupees for eight hours of work. Contrast these people with the sweat drenched helpless souls of the desert. The desi ones enjoy their life with their family everyday while the expat ones lead a miserable life in search of a better living standard. The irony is that, he burns away his life in the desert, braving every kind of adversity, to spread brightness in his family at home. What use the money serves to them when the "beakon of light" is like a visitor who can never share the load of running a family apart from sending money every month? 

 

Onam, Sweet Onam -3

Chingam is a pleasant month. After the 'panja Karkitakom' pleasant things revisit the earth. Dark clouds, squally winds and heavy down pours become a thing of past. The 'thumba' plants start blooming. The tiny white flowers in the little plat announce the arrival of another Onam. Heart brims with excitement. Then comes the "Onappareeksha," the first term examination. Most of the time, this occurred after the Onam. We always wished the Onappareeksha to come before the festival. It could have facilitated worriless celebrations. Worry? Who worried about exams, by the way? Anyway, it still remained like an uncomfortable pricking thing somewhere in the entire scheme of things when the first term exams were posted after the Onam. It used to start immediately after the Onam when the minds where still hooked to the comfort zone of unbridled enjoyment.

If ‘atham’ is dark, Onam will be bright. That is a belief among the people. Rain is unpredictable in Keralam and it can show up any time as it pleases. So, a few times in my memory, rains dampened the spirit of Onam so mercilessly. As the first rays of the sun falls on earth on the Onam day, the excitement reaches its culmination. One of the boys was turned into "Maveli" by that time. Those days maveli's attire was made of a particular small plant. We called it 'punja' and these plants were seen during the Onam season just like 'thumba' plant. Bundles of the 'punja' plants are tied to the body of the boy who agreed to be this year's Maveli. The entire body is covered with the plant and the face is covered with a mask. That was the Maveli of the olden days. There was some innocence attached to this always.

Kids shout "Maveli Vanne...Maveli Vanne..." (Maveli has come...Maveli has come) and accompany the grassy Maveli to the neighbouring houses. There, the Maveli dances till someone from the house turns up with some coins. He visits a few houses and collects a small sum. That was equally shared among the participants. This paltry amount was all that used by the guys for a Jayan movie at Poochakkal Royal theatre or to meet the expenses on the way to watch the football tournament at the nearby village.

After the rich breakfast that included every kind of traditional items, we straight away headed to the play ground. There was no specific play ground but all open places were our play grounds. People have not yet started constructing houses wherever they saw some vacant places. There were hardly any fences too. On Onam day everyone was allowed to go out and play. Even our seniors came out to have fun. At least for five days from the first day of Onam, all went back to their childhood days. That was the beauty of the celebration called Onam. Kabaddi was the favourite game but many other groups of girls and boys played different types of interesting games. Interestingly, none of us knew much about cricket. The swift lock of the legs of the guy who raids was the key to success in kabaddi. Sasikumar was an expert in this. Vinod was a very good at eluding any kind of traps. Many times, I felt so frustrated to see him slip away so easily from my own tricks to beat him.  Very interesting indeed. Guys and gals knew nothing about how the time passed by.

As lunch time arrives everyone disperses for a break. We never tried to find out what others were going to have. It could be true, many of them who left the play ground for the lunch had not had one, to his/her heart’s content. My grandma, but, would have arranged everything an Onam feast demanded. After offering the first meal to the Gods and the ones who had departed long back, we ate everything we could. Immediately after the lunch, all had reassembled back at the same venue to continue from where we left.

As the sun traversed much towards west, it was time we all got ready for the big event at the eastern village. By this time, all those new Onam dresses looked like a bundle of drity clothes. Today is the day, the foot ball tournament starts. We could ill afford to miss that. The guys line up and head straight towards east, leaving the gals behind. The gang consisted of at least ten boys. All along the tiny bunds of the vast paddy field, we walked in a line, cracking jokes and laughing so loudly.

Next day is called the second onam and then come the third, fourth and fifth Onams. Every day the routine continued. Play all the days and then over to the football ground by evening. Needless to say it again, one day, we all marched to watch the matinee show of our beloved hero's action thriller. On one of the Onam days every time, we took lunch from Nanu's house. 

The customary 'atha pookkalam' had 'vaada malli' as the main attraction. These purple coloured beauties were cynosure to the eyes. Then to match with it, we had tiny leaves of the Shatavari plant. Thumbappoo gave the white hue while the 'dry flowers of thulasi mixed with cinder of the husk of rice grains provided the black. After the work  is done, just standing at a little distance, we felt so proud about it.

Perhaps it were not the best art work but it was the outcome of hard work and dedication. There were no cameras those days to freeze all the action in celluloid films. Still, everything remains as fresh as a vaadaa malli in the mind. No mega pixel gadgets needed to narrate those enchanting images to all those love to take a nostalgic trip to the paste.

Another Onam is at our door step right now and it is Visakham day today. Time to go out to collect flowers. Nanu is waiting outside with the tiny basket he weaved with coconut leaflets....

Memories of a Temple Pond

This is how a temple pond in Keralam looks. How beautiful it is! Close to the temple, another structure paved with tiles on its roof, stands like a shelter to the devotees taking bath in the pond. There are steps from the top to the bottom from where one can get into the holy water and take a blissful dip.

Our village temple too has a pond. It has no frills and fancies attached to it, but it does have a humble coconut leaf thatched shelter. It does not have steps to reach the water. A simple, non descript pool of water, cleaned at times, depending on the financial position of the poor temple is all that describes the "theerthakkulam". Still, the village's elitists and the ordinary ones alike came there to have a dip.

Everyone who took bath in the pond visited the deity with the wet clothes. A clean body and a praying soul narrowed down the distance between the 'dehi' and 'deham' at the abode of "Olavaipil Thevar", as we fodly called our presiding diety. The Mahadevar temple had only a few visitors those days, but as the days passed by, the number of devotees swelled, but they hardly take bath in the temple pond now. The temple pond now cries for attention from the urbanized villagers.

Elders took bath and went about their routine jobs. When we start our bath, there could be a few elders who stand on the edge of the pond, cleaning their teeth with twigs of mango or neem tree. Most of us used 'umikkari'- the charred remains of the husk of rice grains- to clean the teeth. We believed a mix of the cinder of husk of the rice grains and crystals of salt cleaned the teeth much effectively than the chemicals we use at present. Children came to the temple pond only to have a blast. It was not just a bath we meant. It was a no holds barred revelry in water lasting for several hours.

Guys jumped one after the other into the pond as if big boulders fell in water. That was just the beginning. We swam to every direction in the pond. Someone fully immersed and some others floating. Back stroke, front stroke, breast stroke, free style whatever be the technical names, we guys knew everything. The ones who disappeared in water were not seen for a while. After a brief lull, they raised from water on the other side of the pond. That was thrilling. Many times, one by on remained in water while others counted 1,2,3...I don't remember up to where we counted but as much as I could recall, it was not more than 100.

But, there was a spoil sport often appeared at the vicinity. He was known as "manager." He shouted at the children to stop the bath and get lost. Children were afraid of him and so, they quietly made an exit from the scene. He was known as manager in the village because he was managing the temple at that time. He was our neighbour and a close friend of our father. He had a grocery shop and the ration shop right opposite the temple. Manager had a wooden face like most of the rustic fathers. He always appeared on the spot to pour cold water on most of our joyful outings, be it in the temple pond or in the temple premises. Elders' psychology those days was like that. They never liked children making too much of noise, running helter skelter all over, stone the mango or a cashew tree. They often tend to shoo away children who trespass onto their compounds.

The fiery eyed face of Vinod's father makes me always wonder about this unaccommodating mindset of the elders. Vinod was our neighbour and a close friend. Whenever his father sighted him playing, his father broke a piece of stick from the nearby fence and beat him mercilessly. Fearing the wrath of the ever angry old man, Vinod, at times, skipped those happy moments with us. Probably the father was worried about his studies. For him, life was not to be whiled away indulging in such non productive activities. The concerned father's wish has come true, to a great extent. Vinod leads a comfortable life now. Recently when we met on the occasion of the temple festival in our village, he talked to me about the family trip to Singapore.

When we bathed in the pond located in our house compound, only a few guys joined. The most essential person was Nanu. He was like a shadow and it was pleasure being with this witty little boy. Our pond was small and so the space was not enough for more guys. Perhaps, this was a mini swimming pool in which we learned a little of swimming skills. Those self learned maneuvers were used in full throttle in the temple pond. These were the time everyone drank the water from the ponds. Many times, water entered through nose too, but that was quiet natural in the learning process.

There were a few naughty creatures in the pond. A group of tilapia fish lived in the pond along with many other varieties. These funny tilapias always mistook their prey with the little private parts of the guys! It was not painful but a little irritating at times. Still we liked their presence in the pond as it was a belief that they acted like scavengers. Wherever I spot these fish in the lakes and water bodies in tourist spots, my mind suddenly takes a return journey to that pond in the temple compound.

After a violent bath, the water in the pond used to turn black due to the mud being kicked up. No wonder if the manager's wooden face turns red. That was almost a routine but the show went on unstopped. Descendants of tilapias may be still swimming in that water body, waiting for the "little preys". But we stop short of diving into that water, lest the manager, watching from the heavens may not like to see the presumably serene pond turned into a pool of muddy water yet again. I let my memories take a dive and remain there for hours together....

 

 

Ramayana Masam -2

"ആയുസ്സ് പോകുന്നതേതുമറിഞ്ഞീ ല  മായാസമുദ്രത്തിൽ  മുങ്ങിക്കിടക്കയാൽ "

Life is deeply immersed in the ocean of 'maya'. No one realises how the days are passing bye ...Raman tells Lakshmanan on one occassion in the Ramayanam. True. One month has gone just like a few hours. Another Karkadakom became history. Almost one year passed bye since I started a new job in the Gulf. How fast the time flew! The magic web of 'maya' made everything look hunky dory. Fly at 35000 feet several times, dollars ringing, and then abundance of time to do nothing..I do not know when will I realise that all were just maya!

This time too, we could complete reading the Holy Book by the end of the month. The interesting thing in the Kilippatu version of Ramayanam is that, there is no mention of the Lakshmana Rekha . Lakshman had not drawn the powerful line in front of Sita when he went to search Raman.

Ramayanam is always an exciting experience. It rejuvenates the minds. As the "scary" Karkidakom confines people to thier homes, the abundance of spirituality flourishes in souls. It prompts people to know how close we are to God and how important it is to follow the idelas Lord Ram represented.

അ ദ് ധ്യാ ത്മ രാ മാ യ ണ മി ദ മെ ത്ര യു-

 മ ത്യു ത്ത മോ ത്ത മം മൃ ത്യു ഞ്ജയ പ്രോ ക് തം

അ ദ് ധ്യ യ നം  ചെയ്കിൽ മർത്യനജ്ജന്മന

മുക്തി  സിദ്ധി ക്കു മതിനില്ല  സംശ യം
.

That is how the Ramayanam concludes. It is great reading it. This time I read with a tune. I could do that. More interestingly, this time, I made lesser mistakes while reading. Even the Sudarakandam looked easier this time. It is easy if we read it with dedication. There were much less mistakes this time while reading. That is heartening. The beautiful young Malayalam will live a little more years through people like me - hopefully

Whenever I stumbled upon hard stanzas of Sundarakandam, I profoundly remembered our Grandpa. He had been so restless when we enter Sundarakandam. It was tough those days. It was impossible to complete one verse without tripping on the tongue twisters several times. It was at times so annoying to hear his angry voice. But now I understand his feelings. We did make mistakes and it was not acceptable to read the God's story so badly. Remembering grandpa, I should assert one thing: grandpas are the pillars of a society. They play very important role in shaping up sensible young generations rooted in cultural ethos. Long live grandpas.

Raman is the embodiment of all virtues. He was a caring son, a loving husband, responsible leader, honest ruler and an affectionate brother. He protected the good people. He walked the extra mile to eliminate Bali the nemesis of Sugreevan. Bali who banished his younger brother Sugreevan to jungle and married his wife. Bali while breathing his last was made to realise his sins and the soul finds moksha there. Raman tells Bali   "ധർമത്തെ  രക്ഷിപ്പതിന്നായുധാവുമായ്  നിർമൽസരം  നടക്കുന്നിതു  നീളെ  ഞാൻ" -  With arms in hands I walk on the earth untiringly to save Dharma. Bhagavan was great. He was all powerful. The universe revolved around Him. He could punish the sinners ruthlessly.

That was the old story. In the present world, as the population increased beyond any control by God, He has left everything to the human beings. It became so difficult for Him to maintain records of omissions and commssions of each and every individual. Meanwhile, human beings developed computers that have started acting much faster than the brains. These computers could store volumes of data. God was left far behind in data recording and dispense with justice. In civilised societies, judges started handing down punishments and in uncivilised societies, those who got weapons determined rights and wrongs.

 

As I read out in my own tune "ithyadhyathma ramayanam,
                                                        uma maheswara samvade
                                                       yudhakandam samaptam", I felt a little sad. A highly nostalgic journey comes to an end. Another month in life has passed by. But of course, grandpa's soul would have felt so happy at hearing me reading the Sacred Book flawlessly...that made the entire process so blissful