The National strike- A lost opportunity

20.02.2013:

Five pods of beans, that was what the old woman picked from the vegetable basket of the provision store. Those tiny strips may have weighed not even 100 grams but it costed her four rupees. Four rupees is a big money for a woman who looked so poor. In all probability she is one among the crores of people in our country who find it extremely hard to earn a sum that can ensure one square meal everyday. Even the neighbourhood provision shops now charges goods on Maximum Retail Price (MRP). Why should they do this when they never file Income tax return?

As I have been typing this, advertisements of gold, energy drinks and fairness creams are raining in on the TV in front of me. I could not see any programmes on it for the past several minutes. The super stars of the celluloid and cricket have already told thousands of lies about these products to the admirers and fans since the day broke. They try their best to prod the unsuspecting followers to fall in the traps these energy drinks and gold sellers laid so cleverly. These superstars take home crores of rupees for telling such non-existing qualities of these products to the public. Many of the products and services they promote are dangerously adulterated or extremely harmful. They never care for it, sadly they never show social commitments. For the sake of the publicity, they dole out a good sum to the charity activities. The hand-to-mouth mass of population gasps for a source of income while a small percent of the crowd amasses wealth

21.02.2013

The two day long nationwide strike called by various trade unions in protest against the spiralling price rise has just concluded. Price rise is a reality and the poor people of this country are badly affected by this. One kilo rice costs Rs 50 and a kilogram of potato costs      Rs 30. A few state governments in the country are distributing rice at Re1 or Rs 2 through the corrupt and sluggish Public Distribution System. But for such concessions, the poor and down trodden section, that constitutes more than 90 percent of the population is reeling under high cost of living

So, the nationwide protest needs to be seen against this back ground. The people of Keralam are celebrating the strike as Onam. This time it was two day celebration- Hartal Festival -day 1 and Hartal Festival -day2. The most literate and presumed to be highly informed people take protest strikes as total shut down. Then what is the meaning of protest in that part of the country? Eventhough the Keralaites' response to Hartals can be apparantly linked to laziness, there is another side to it. They, in fact, convert the adversitites into advantages. A day's house arrest is easily transformed into celebrations by the entire people of a state. That is spectacular, no doubt about that.

In sharp contrast, in Pondicherry, where I am located at present, it is business as usual. The Kamaraj Salai is busier than normal days. All schools, offices and shops are working as usual. Does this mean that people in Pondicherry do not have objection to the sky-rocketing prices of the essential commodities? The situation may not be different in other parts too- all will be going about their business on a strike day.

No doubt, prices of essential commodities are unbearable. The ruling dispensation does not show any sensitivity in easing the already miserable lives of the poor people. The only way to show their resentment is to stand up and question the rulers in non violent means. Hartal is one of the strongest protests to show their disapproval of the uncontrollable cost of living. Then, why the majority of the people in this country ignored the strike call? Perhaps, this is the fall out of the frightening indifference our people show towards burning issues. This is fondly called by the English Media in our country resilience!

Non violent protests were the main stay of our freedom struggle. Mahatma Gandhi called for different types of strikes against the colonial government. They did shake the might of guns and lathis. At last the oppressive and senseless invaders kneeled down. That is what the purpose of strikes. Strikes are an essential part of the democracy and it is necessary, sometimes to knock some sense into the insensitive rules' heads. May the affected mass of the country line up behind the non-violent and lawful protests to force the hands of the babus. At least for this strike call, the entire nation ought to have stood up with the people of Keralam, to lend their voice against injustice, however feeble it is...

Appooppanthaadi -59

A living quarter at a construction site

The cold breeze has been seeping through the gap in the door of my cell. I have adjusted the thick blacket once again to cover the legs and then pulled it over my head.  "The time is 0535. It is time to wake up", the cute 'not so smart' phone dutifully informed me twice by now. It is snoozing and ten minutes later, it is going to repeat what it told already - "the time is 0545....". No more excuses,.I have to wake up right now, though I loved to have another nap.

How pleasant that short naps are in a cold morning! It is the toughest act of the day I am going to do. No other alternative. By 7, I have to show up at the office after finishing the breakfast. By the time I walk from my cell to office, Sun is yet to make its appearance. The Eastern part of  horizon has already got itself decked up to welcome the "star" of our world. The sky never tires of decorating itself for the grand entry of the star. The magic spell is an abundant display of splendour and and a riot of colours. Enjoying it, I reached my office within five minutes. A day begins thus.

Today a Jordanian is reporting for duty at our office. He will be replacing me whenever I am on my rotational leave. He had been working with our client for the past six years. Suddenly, he found himself out of business. UAE has seriously started localisation of work places. Sounds strange, right? Countries like India talk loud about globalisation, but here it is the opposite. Wherever qualified personnel are available, the locals are being appointed. This causes job losses for the people from other countries.


This is a practice in other Gulf countries for the past many years. How far they succeeded in extracting work from their own personnel is a subject for debate. Anyway, in UAE, this process has definitely gained momentum and in the recent National Day speach, the rulers have once again emphasised the need for localisation. Cause for worry indeed. Anyway, I was relieved as his arrival signals the begning of my holidays. For me, it was not the occassion to worry about localisation and globalisation. As the juggarnaut of time rolls on, everything happens as programmed, and everyone lives on, adapting to the changed situations...as simple as that. 

While on my return after the second leave rotation, I visited the Marina Mall in Abu Dhabi. It was a ten minute drive from my hotel to this place. The entire journey is along the corniche road.  Travelling along this beautifully landscpaed stretch is a pleasant thing to do in Abu Dhabi. On the way, on the left side of the road, we can come across a number of nicely constructed sky scappers. One among them is Emirates Palace Hotel. The Pakistani driver talked a lot about this luxury hotel. He said, to spend a night there, it needs around 7000 Dirhams. It is more than his two months' salary. As a taxi driver, he often gets a sneak-peak of the hotel. According to him, inside the hotel is like "Jannant". I only wish, I could spend at least a night in this jannat. We have to agree, Heaven is man made and is existing on this earth itself! I wish the Pakistani driver understands this fact more than anyone else and convey this to everyone back home

Marina Mall is a sprawling commercial complex that houses a number of big and small shops. The major attraction for the shoppers is the Carrefour there. This mall is located by the the side of the picturesque Corniche of the city. Besides shopping, there is abundant scope for entertainment including ice skating. Ice skating in the middle of a desert,. That is what the visionary rulers are upto-pull out a rabbit from a magic wand!

Another landmark in Abu Dhabi has been inaugurated recently. This is another world record making building. The administrattion says, the Guinness Book of World Records has opened a regional office in UAE to monitor the world records that are happening in UAE and the region. UAE administrattion admits that they have a penchant for making world records. So, the lastest one is the Capital Gate. It is another iconic building in UAE. The speciality of this building is that it has a leaning of 18 degrees that qualifies it into the World Record Book

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

Other than such mind blowing sky scrapers, these deserts are hardly offering anything for eatertainement. Most of the outings in the Gulf are limited to visiting shopping malls like Marina Mall in Abu Dhabi and Dubai Mall in Dubai. Watch out for beautiful landscapes, look at the world's tallest building- Burj Khalifa- in Dubai. Of course, there are some scenic tourist spots elsewhere in the Gulf region like in Oman and some parts of UAE. Still a weekend outing can be mainly to a shopping mall or a sea shore. No one can resist a visit to such elaborately constructed buildings. At the least, they help us cool down for a few hours in the air-conditioned ambience. For most of the people who toil for six days at a stretch, these cool malls offer a soothing escape.

I flew Gulf Air this time. It goes to Behrain first. All along the 50 minutes flight, I have been looking from the window. Down below, in the darkness, I could spot a number of flares. It was like a Diwali night. These flares are the essential parts of any oil and gas wells and they appeared to be like the lights in a Diwali night. (In any plant where oil and gas are involved, as a safety measure, excess gas needs to be let out to reduce pressure in the process equipment. These     let- out gases are continuously burnt away  through Flares) There are no dearth of oil wells in this region. The Gulf countries are ever enthusiastically tapping the nature's bounty. These mushrooming wells tells eveyting about their hurry. Let these wells never dry up. At the minimum, these wells are wringing in dollars to my bank account, per se!

I enjoyed another movie on board during the nearly four hours flight from Behrain to Chennai. This time it was English Vinglish. Charming Sreedevi has no competitors, no doubt about that. The expressions of a person who travels alone in a totally strange place are so vividly narrated by the gifted actress in this movie. Do not mistake, I never show such expressions during any of my globe trotting expeditions, however. I got a chance to see some parts of the US through the movie. This is a place my friend Sreekumar visits frequently and I could never visit. Fingers crossed, I look forward to walk on the streets of the country that is still considered a dream land by most of the people in my country. I hope, this will not remain a distant dream, like a woman becoming the President of the USA...

Utsavam- celebrating a childhood



A typical scene from a Temple festival in Keralam

The limping Elephant was a painful scene to look at. The God has been taking rounds of his abode, mounted on the four legged animal. The animal could hardly walk, as one of the front legs was permenantly deformed due to an accident he met with, But, whatever His Majesty does, it needs to be royal. God needs the best and His devotees know everything about his likes and dislikes.


They offer flowers, milk, gold, money, animals and what not? O God, are you not the owner of everything in the universe? Why do You need such material things as offerings to please Yourself? Sadly, Your devotees who do not undertsnd this truth are even ready to lay down their lives to please You. For them, keeping the creator of the universe in good humor is of paramount importance. It is all right if the jumbo is inconvenienced a bit. Never mind if the tusker finds it difficult to walk with his broken leg. I am sure, the God would never have liked this, but He has no choice! Who decides about such things? Certainly not Him.

O God, do't you see those eyes??

Elephant is a wild animal. That is what everyone learns in the primary school. The wild animal is trapped and after inflicting hellish pain, transforms it into a domesticated animal.


A domesticated elephant is a symbol of extreme pain and helplessness. I only wish, sooner or later, god's managers will realise this and do away with elephants in the festivals. A mighty animal of the wild shall never be paraded in front of the devotees this way. The beleaguered quadraped has nothing but a story of agony and distress to share with all who turn up to see the gala. O dear eyes, never let me see such disturbing scenes in future

Once upon a time, we did have festivals in our village temple without elephants. A tame fastival involving a very few villagers was all that we had. All rituals connected with a festival was always there but without much fanfare. There were not many people to come forward and  lead from the front. That was the main reason for such low key festivals in our temple besides the God being "poor". Even for the evening pooja that is the most imporant ritual in a temple, only a handfull of people turned up. On normal days, only our group of children were present to share the evenings with the god. Remember, that was a time when the invasion of TV sops were yet to happen.

The only positive thing that this years festival presented was a get together of a few of the childhood buddies. Many guys and gals who are struggling to build a secured life for their children in the present phase of their life, make it a point to visit the temple once during the festival days. Perhaps, I am a defaulter, as I found myself far away from the arena during these important days of my village. 

All of us met at the temple premises and recollected a lot about the past. After the deeparadhana -  the customery evening pooja, a lady who looked in her early forties, came to me and asked after me if I recognised her. Sensing my discomfiture, she volantarily revealed her identity. It was Manikutty, our neighbour. That was really embarassing. A neighbour had to introduce herself to another neighbour. That was when I realised how much cut off I am from my beloved village. Manikutty is our guru Kunjamma's youngest of the daughters. We learnt Malayalam letters from Kunjamma, sitting along with Manikutty and her other siblings.

We had a lot to recollect. Most of them revolving around the temple itself. Those beautiful evenings we spent together in the temple premises were subject of our talk. It was not all about devotion but more than that it was about playing in the sand. We specially played a game called 'choodu pandhu', that is traslated to English as 'Hot Ball'. This ball was a cube shaped object, weaved out of a leaflets of a coconut tree. While weaving it, a small stone is kept inside to make it heavy. This ball is thrown at each other as everyone runs all over to dodge it. When it hits, it really pained the guys. That was the thrill in it- enjoy the distress. That was how we had a ball those days...

The guys turned up shirtless but like odd ones out, we two brothers in shirts. We too fought bitterly with our elder brother to avoid shirts , but at last gave in. A freedom fight for the right  not to cover the chest bit the dust, without making any mark in the history! As another oddity, we had boxes to carry books to school. Our frieds still remember those Aluminium boxes.In fact, the first thing they remember about us is these boxes. During this get together too, all of us talked about this box.

Our happiest evenings were on the occassion of 'Pradosha Vratham". We fondly called it "pradosham". (http://www.hindu-blog.com/2008/07/how-to-do-or-observe-pradosham-or.html)

The Ulavaipe Mahadevar Temple

Once in a month, Pradosham was observed in our temple. Whatever was the importance of this, we liked to see everyday Pradosham. This gifted us an extended evening in the company of so many boys and girls. Every evenings after the deeparadhana, we usually return home and prepare for the next morning's school. On pradosham day, after deeparadhana, there is another pooja and at the end of it, the poojari distrubutes payasam. We all wait for the poojari to turn up after the special pooja. He calls out our house names and we kids, one by one go in front of him. He drops a block of payasam on a plantain leaf into our little hands. As it falls on our hands, the warmth of payasam gives a burning sensation for a moment. That marks the end of a happy evening.

Our gang walks back home, accompanied by the elders. We were escorted by our grandfather -the never smiling serious stuff. I do not remember him pulling us to his side, keeping on his laps and caressing us. We never complained about it In fact, he was instrumental in encouraging and invloving us in all our traditional rituals, be it Onam, Vishu or reading Ramayanam in the month of Karkitakom. He gifted us a lot to cherish and a lot to follow in the on going saga called life. He did his duties sincerely as a local guardian.

One funny incident connected with him was his superstitious belief about calling from behind a person when he/she sets out for some work. This happens whenever our father was home and he was about to go out. As he is about to leave, we never failed to call him from his back. The moment we open our mouth, the grandfather, as if he was waiting, shouts at us. "How many times I told you, never call from behind when he is leaving for a purpose?" As usual, he would be sitting in his room. He hardly walks around in our house.

This non smiling rustic patriarch, though brooked no nonsense at any given time, was so liberal in allowing us to stay back in the Pradosham evenings in the temple.


 While walking back after the evening pooja this time, thousand elephants stood in a row in my mind with the presiding diety on the top of the most musculine tusker in a majestic display of a pompous village  festival. Long live the festivals, sans the elephants.

A village bungalow

The half a kilometer stretch of road between the temple and my home is now flanked by a number of imposing villas, a few of them are even qualified to be called bungalows. Although not much has changed in my village Olavaipe, people are a happier lot now. Lucky are the ones who enjoy it to the fullest of their satisfaction. I did come across a handfull of people there, who dare to speak in terms of  Lacs. I promise, none of them are VPs or Country Managers. I don't think they check their bank balance through the internet banking everyday. I could only envy them. For me, alas, happiness looks to be like an undefined object and I often search for it passionately in god-forsaken deserts and the maddening cities.

This time, I conciously tied a swing on one the branches of a mango tree. I wanted my kid to play in that. Somehow, for a few minutes I succeeded in my efforts. As he swung up and down, I slipped into another bout of nostalgia. Oh, those days...Within a few moments, my kid started feeling so uncofortable in this crude swing. Why not a modern, cushioned one in the air-conditioned drawing room in front of a 42 inch LED TV? Like any other kid of the modern days, my kid too tend to spend more time with the play staions and cartoon channels rather than rubbing with the remnants of a "boring" past....I only pity him. What will he be writing in his memoirs sometime down the line ? One thing is sure, he will never forget to mention those colourful plastic cards in his papa's vallet....