ambrosia

Mutthu dear

2009-09-17T22:04:00.019+05:30

The homecoming

In the afternoon of this day last week, as I sat at my desk scripting a course in geriatrics, I was suddenly jolted by the cries of what sounded like an animal in distress. I rushed to the window to find out was going on.... and there I saw a little brown pup with a black snout under my window, across the street, sitting on a patch of grass, looking up at the sky and howling! Without wasting any time in thought, I made a dash for the stairs. By the time I had run down three flights of stairs, the pup was no longer where I had seen it from my window. I went up and down the street looking everywhere—even under the bricks and stones. I was about to give up when suddenly I spotted the brown thing again at an adjacent construction site precariously standing amongst heavy machinery and deafening noise and laborers busy at work. It was hungrily lapping up water from a stagnant muddy puddle. I asked the men whether it belonged to them and they said no. I did not need any further confirmation. That was enough for me to pick up the pup and bring it home.

“You seem to be a fine little puppy,” I said to the pup as I placed it on my balcony in answer to its vigorously wagging tail. To which it wagged its tail some more. I put some water before it and it seemed to drink endless quantities! I crushed some biscuits and offered it and the biscuits vanished within no time. Not for a moment did it stop wagging its little tail. That is how crazy a little pup can get! “Cleaning time”, I announced and puppy seemed to understand and did not resist much as I sponged its little body with dettol and water. It had a soft mane, like it would melt in my palms....

Where did puppy come from?

With cleaning done and puppy fed, I made a little bed for it to rest. As it rested, I thought for the first time since I went to the window to investigate who the howls belonged to. I have never seen a pup in my area before. Of all the localities, the locality where I live is one of the few perhaps where the BBMP (the municipal body of Bangalore) has done a good job with their dog neutering programme. I can say with certainty that all dogs in this locality are neutered. By that logic, puppy couldn’t have been born in this area. Also, it was all alone; there was no sign of any other pup or its mother. I was certain it had been “dumped” by somebody from some other locality. Interestingly, puppy had a small red “tika” on its forehead prompting me to think that whoever dumped it did not have bad intentions afterall. The person had perhaps made an invocation to Mother Nature to do the best for the pup. To this day I recall with amusement and wonder at how little pup, from among the numerous houses lined on the street, chose to howl under my house. And I shall always be grateful for this opportunity.

The next steps

Then, I dialed Achala. As I spoke to her, I could see little pup’s steady gaze on me and wondered what it was thinking. I felt a little foolish discussing pup with it being within earshot but my human instincts told me to go on, “It’s a pup afterall!” Nevertheless, I felt foolish. Achala advised me to organize a general health check-up for puppy. Also, she was holding another puppy adoption camp two days hence, so I had an opportunity to take puppy there and find it a good home. I must state at this point that it is against my personal policy to put up any animal that I rescue for adoption because I believe I too can provide animals all that they require to live comfortably and happily. BUT, at this point the circumstances of my life are such that I may be able to provide them, love, affection, food, and water, however I will not be able to guarantee them freedom to the degree they require. There is very little freedom for them in the current apartment house that I am staying at—there is no garden, nor a lawn. Besides, it is against the law to lock up any animal in a closed apartment for extended periods of time. With me away in office during the day time, locking an animal for 10 hours in a closed apartment with no escape route in case of an emergency is an abject crime.

The first night

Little pup, I soon discovered was a very happy-go-lucky thing, always ready to play, jump, hop, and wag its little tail. It had a gigantic appetite and I was scared that its stomach would burst from all the eating. It would follow me everywhere in the house, never losing sight of me. I never saw it walking, it always ran and as it did, stumbled, got up, and ran again. As I cooked, it sat watching my every move. It cried when I went from one room to the other as though to say “Why you leaving me!” I could understand its insecurity which perhaps came from the events in its little past. But very, very interestingly, it never cried when I went to the bathroom and locked the door behind me! It just sat outside patiently waiting for me to come out. “Gosh who sent you with all that intelligence, you are not even one foot high!”, I thought.

Suddenly late in the night it started crying loudly. “You have everything that you need, why you crying now, especially at this hour when little puppies should be fast asleep!”, I admonished little puppy. In answer puppy yelped louder! I thought perhaps it is remembering its mother and the life it had left behind and needed to clam down. So I promptly put on Reiki music. I have read that animals and plants are wonderfully receptive to Reiki energies and soft, soothing music. Lo and behold, that did it! Pup steadily calmed down, directed its little ears towards the direction of the speakers, closed its eyes, and was soon fast asleep. The following day I got more clues as to why pup was feeling restless.

The health check-up and a general health note

The following morning my door bell rang at 7:30 am and there stood a smiling Dr. Srinivasan, our good "flying" animal doctor with his mobile medical van. He had arrived to conduct a health check-up for puppy. Puppy was game to any kind of fuss around him; he consented without a protest to all sorts of examinations. Finally, Doctor pulled puppy’s eyes wide and declared, “Very, very healthy puppy, very friendly.” From some symptoms I described to him, Doctor administered a solution for diarrhea and de-worming.

For the information of anyone who rescues pups, it is important to be aware of the other side of the coin: the health angle. Most pups born on the streets get stomach infection through their mother’s milk (because the mother may not be getting the best of food) or if the mother is not around to nurse them, then through the garbage and rotten food the pups may be consuming. This results in the following two conditions that may exist simultaneously: diarrhea and worms. Mother Nature is so wise and thoughtful that even little pups have a high threshold for tolerating adverse conditions and can continue to be active despite diarrhea and the presence of worms. It is only after a certain point that these conditions become life-threatening. My pup visibly had loose motions with specks of blood—confirming that it was carrying worms. Doctor’s medicines worked very quickly—within a day diarrhea was cured and so did all the parasites clear from its stomach. “Poor little puppy” I thought, “Carrying all those living organisms in your stomach must have been quite demanding.” After the worms cleared, little puppy did not eat anything much for almost a day—as there were no worms making demands for food! I also understood why it may be crying all of a sudden the previous night. It could be because of the tormenting worms.

How puppy got his name

One of these days, my good friend Vj living nearby came to meet little puppy. In the first few minutes of the meeting little puppy got his name: Mutthu! At first I thought the name was too regional but then gave in to my friend’s rationale that Mutthu is born on the soil of south India, afterall. Over and above that, little Mutthu seemed to like his name and started to respond on call! From the second day onwards, little Mutthu started to get independent. He no longer frantically followed me; I guess he sensed I was here to stay. He also started to display his naughty side—trying to bite off the wires of my computer, extension chords, and mobile charger! He did not spare my friend’s fingers either! Little Mutthu was teething. So, all this biting was normal. On the night of the second day, he suddenly started to cry again. “Now that your worms have gone, what are you crying for!”

This time, he demonstrated a peculiar style of crying. He held on to the contours of my chair with his two little front paws as he cried. I had to rake my head to understand what that meant. I lifted him and placed him on the cushioned chair. Mutthu gave me a satisfied look and promptly went into a deep sleep! And for the next one and a half days Mutthu stayed with me, he never slept on the bed I had made for him on the floor. He always slept on the cushioned chair and each time I sat on the chair that was now “his”, he made it a point to whine and get him lifted onto it! I just wondered what naughtiness lay in store when within a few weeks he will be capable of jumping on the chair himself!

The adoption

Thirteenth of September arrived very fast. It was the day of the adoption camp. That day I found two distinct personalities within me. One of them was dressing herself up and getting Mutthu ready to take to the camp and the other was hoping that something untoward would happen and the camp would get canceled. Not necessarily, but anything that would make Mutthu stay with her. MD wrote that I should keep Mutthu but she doesn’t understand the “freedom” part of the deal of keeping a pet that I tried to explain at the beginning of this post. As I sat holding Mutthu in the auto rixa, with every kilometer covered, one part of me badly wanted to turn back; it even cooked a story to tell everybody of how the camp had been a disaster. But then the other part said, “Do you have the right to make a sprightly animal a prisoner in your little apartment?” Mutthu raised his head to look at me from time to time. I don’t even what to guess what he may be thinking. With the two personalities squabbling amongst eachother, we finally reached the camp traveling almost 30 kilometers.

All the volunteers welcomed Mutthu with warm hugs. Gradually, the pups started arriving. There were many media photographers as well as amateur ones. There was the local TV channel too. We had to tell the photographers not to flash on the eyes of the pups too much. They wanted endless poses! Mutthu was quite disturbed by the din of the place, therefore either me or some volunteer had to constantly carry him so that he would not run away through the gaps in the tent. I discovered that unlike Mutthu, the other pups were quietly sleeping in their baskets. I wondered that he must really be a free soul and I prayed that he gets a home with lots of space to play in!

The camp started at 10 am and until 4 pm Mutthu hadn’t got adopted. One part of me rejoiced, while the other was concerned. I had refused Mutthu to two families already because they just did not give me the “right vibes”. I am glad that I did. I had made up my mind that I am going to keep refusing him to anyone who does not give me the proper vibes. Then, around 4 pm a lady walked in with her three kids, gave one glance at the pups and put her hands on Mutthu and another pup and said, “I want to adopt two puppies!”. It all happened very quickly. I had no time to refuse; worst, I had no reasons to refuse. The lady was extremely decisive; unlike others, she did not spend hours comparing the pups, her eyes were honest and kind and what’s more the family was vegetarian! I had always wanted Mutthu to go to a vegetarian home and learn to appreciate fresh fruits and vegetables. And this is not all; the family lived in rural Bangalore in a spacious house with acres of land around the house.

Very soon we were in a room completing the adoption formalities. The volunteers were recording Mutthu’s details and those of the other pup and explaining to the lady the terms and conditions of the adoption. Mutthu received his shots for rabies and distemper from the camp doctor and the other pup received his too. And the next thing I saw was the family carrying both the pups and walking away.

The story does not end here

Despite everything, I still felt that I had abandoned little Mutthu. My good friend G from France who has four animals in her farm, out of which two are rescued, tried her best to comfort me and convince me that I did not abandon Mutthu but had acted in his best interests. While I know this is true, the part of me that kept suggesting me to turn away from the camp had gone ballistic with grief. The only way to calm it was to keep in touch with the family and take Mutthu’s updates. And in any case, part of the terms and conditions is that the family has to agree to follow-ups. Mutthu’s new family readily agreed, in fact they were more than welcoming! That was again a positive sign. A day after the camp, I called them up to ask how the pups were doing. “Mutthu is running around in the garden and playing with us and the other pup is sleeping,” they said. Incidentally I had told them Mutthu’s name and added that if they so do wish to, they can change it. I was elated when they said they liked the name and wished to continue with it. “We are having a namkaran (name giving ceremony) for the other pup after two weeks, can you come?” they asked me. “Of course I will be there!”, I said. After some general chit-chat about puppy care and how clever and intelligent Mutthu is, we hung up.

Peace!

I was at peace at last. I got a thumbs up from the part of me that had tried encouraging me to scoot from the camp with Mutthu and what a relief its approval brought to me! This does not mean I do not miss Mutthu, I still do. I still gaze at the spot I had first seen him from my window and in my mind’s eye I can see him squatting there and howling....

Won’t you let me in....

2009-09-10T02:18:00.006+05:30

After my post on a successful puppy adoption camp in the city of Bangalore which I reported about here, I think I owe it to my blog to record why a bunch of think that non-pedigree pups should be adopted. Btw, just FYI, Let’s Live Together has organized another puppy adoption camp on the 13th of September in its office premises—through which 40 Indian pups will get adopted. Anybody interested can go their website to check more.

Some news never make it in the daily newspapers. Sample these:

Street Pup Hit By Vehicle, Spinal Injury Sustained, Paralyzed For Life.
Paralyzed Pomerian Pup Found On The Roads, Family Suspected Of Abandonment
Street Pup Found With Throat Slit, 50-Year Old Man Held For Stoning
Old Doberman Found Abandoned In The Streets
Sick Lhasa Apso Found Abandoned On The Steets Eating Garbage
Starving Street Dog Moved To Shelter By An Animal Rights Volunteer
Great Dane With Elephant Chain On Neck Rescued
Female Doberman Dumped Over Vashi Center Wall
Four-day Old Indi Pups Tied Inside Gunny Bag And Throw Into The Sea

Somewhere in my consciousness these headlines ring a frantic bell. It sounds all too familiar! Woman Burnt Alive For Not Bringing Dowry, A Sharp Rise in Female Fetus Abortions, Young Girl Publicly Lynched, Ten-year Old HIV Positive Boy Boycotted In School, Elderly Man Forsaken By Family, Tries To Commit Suicide.... and many, many more.

The similarity I find in both sets of headlines is that the victims of the crimes against them are decreed “unwanted”. Clearly, there is some dark force out there who is deciding that some creations of Nature are unwanted. But, how can a marvelous, bountiful, giving, earth not have enough space for the old, the infirm, the girl child, the pups, the kittens, and every other organism that is created here by different processes but with an identical higher goal—to live, love, and co-habit peacefully. Regrettably, most of us have forgotten the highest purpose of our existence.

You will agree that pups born on the streets have no control over their birth. Had they the choice, we can be sure they would not have chosen to be born on earth and live in the constant fear of being squashed by motor vehicles, made prisoners inside gunny bags and left to die, and all of that. The “street” pups are born of dogs of two kinds—Pariah breed and Mongrels. Pariah breeds are pure breeds while Mongrels are mixed. Both these kinds of dogs form the vast majority of the stray dog population in India. They are called “strays” because they are born on the streets and live on the streets too. By this logic, an abandoned pedigree dog living on the street is also a “stray”. I learnt these basics from Rajashree’s blog, an ardent animal lover. Since in this article I mean to write why the Pariah breed and Mongrels should be adopted, for all practical purposes I will refer to them as “Indian” dogs.

Indian pups need a home because the rapid “growth” of the country has made them vulnerable on the streets—Reason No.1

There are many dog lovers in the country who like to keep dogs as a member of their family. The prevalent practice is to adopt “pedigree” dogs or in other words foreign breeds with a recorded line of descent. If the motive is to give and share love and affection with an animal as a member of the family, then Indian dogs are as capable of giving and sharing love as any other dog from any part of the globe. The website of the Blue Cross of India, Chennai describes Indian dogs thus:

They have—“The intelligence of a Poodle and the loyalty of a Collie. The bark of a Shepherd and the heart of a Saint Bernard, the spots of a Dalmatian, size of a Schnauzer and the speed of a Greyhound.”

I would say even if Indian dogs did not sound such super duper champs, I would have still adored them. I know of a lady from France who came to Chennai to study dance and during her stay grew fond of an Indian street dog living near her apartment. She named the dog “Ooty”. Many a evening I would spot the white lady on her trendy bike being trailed by Ooty. They looked more like pals and less of a human and a dog. At times the lady would bend over to Ooty and say something to her and Ooty seemed to understand. It used to be a blessed sight. When the lady was about to leave India for France, she booked Ooty on the same flight with her. And that is the dream ending to this anecdote.

We also have the very recent case (last month) of Hugo Boss—a four month old Indian pup who found a home in Canada after a Canadian couple adopted him. Hugo Boss was found in a very sad state by an animal lover—a lady—on the streets of Ahmedabad. The lady picked him up and brought him home and later posted his details on the web for adoption. A Canadian couple responded and it was as if God spoke up for Hugo Boss that moment. Not only this, Hugo Boss's fantastic tale has become quite popular in the print media. The Times of India, Ahmedabad edition did several articles on Hugo Boss and I have the link to one article here:

Ahmedabad bids Hugo tearful goodbye

In case you wish to see pictures, you may click Hugo’s Incredible Journey and Friends old and New from Rajashree again.

Hmm, just wondering aloud and with lament, every time do we have to be told and demonstrated by westerners how precious our own things are.

Indian pups should be adopted because there is no difference between them and foreign breeds—Reason No.2

If Indian pups are not adopted because of “prestige”, then I can only say that prestige is an illusion created by the limitations of the human mind. Related to the prestige issue is the third big reason for adopting Indian pups—organized professional breeding of foreign breeds. Professional breeders of pedigree dogs have unleashed the unethical practice of mass breeding. Female “breed” dogs are kept permanently pregnant throughout their reproductive lives. In many cases they are made pregnant by artificial means. Invariably these dogs live in substandard conditions. Once the bitch is not bodily capable of bearing pups, she is literally thrown out and left on the streets. If you have seen old pedigree dogs roaming the streets and wondered who left them there, you have some clue about their ill-fated past.

Of course many pedigree dogs are abandoned on the streets by their owners because either the dogs have grown old, or have a disease, or the owners have moved out, or simply because the owner does not want them anymore. Ah well, that’s another issue and I won’t go into it now. Last month, the Chandigarh government ordered dog owners to stop breeding their pets. The administration has also asked people not to buy and sell pets from each other. I do not know the intention behind this order but I hope it would be strictly followed. Professional breeders and dog trainers are already protesting against the order. It is not hard to imagine why. If it is anything that drives these people to breed and train dogs, it is nothing but money. It is hardly a love for dogs. I know for a fact that that these people do not touch Indian dogs even with a bargepole.

The crude impact of advertisements on the minds of people is another thing to deal with. The Hutch advertisement that uses the innocent Pug is responsible for the hectic breeding of Pugs and the soaring rates of Pug pups. These pups are brought and sold for as much as Rs. 30,000/- and more. Just like we question—who gains from Fair & Lovely advertisements, it is high time we question who gains from animals being used in advertisements! From most of what I know, the glamour of animals used in advertisements is limited to their images on print and on screen—they actually live a life of dejection when they stop to “perform”. The matter of ethics about animals in advertisements is a separate issue again.

Indian pups should be adopted to beat senseless and unethical professional breeding—Reason No.3

A Beautiful Day

2009-08-16T23:35:00.024+05:30

TODAY was the BIG day! If you are wondering what I am talking about.... this is about the rally cum adoption camp I had announced in my post dated August 10.

TODAY, the weather seemed to have miraculously cleared after the last few days of heavy rainfall. Bangalore woke up to a sunny but cool morning. We breathed a sign of relief and thanked the weather Gods.

TODAY was a significant day for animal rights advocates as well as the street dogs in the city—a message conveyed, a point made, an awareness created, and 15 little pups in loving, secure homes. Tonight, all the 15 of them will perhaps sleep in a home they can call their own for the very first time.

This post will be mainly photographs, I shall write about the issue behind our efforts in the next one! The event began with a great rally consisting of lots of banners, posters, people, and slogans! I have here some slogans that I remember:

Save the puppies! Save! Save!

Indian dogs! Bhow! Bhow!

Street dogs can change your life! Yes they can! Yes they can!

Save us! Bhow! Bhow!

Can Indian puppies survive! Yes they can! Yes they can!

Save the street dogs! Save! Save!

Adopt the street dogs! Adopt! Adopt!

The march being flagged off.

A message conveyed, a point made.

The rally was followed by the adoption camp. The pups were first vaccinated! I must reiterate that all the pups were "Indian street pups"—saved from the streets from various life threatening situations. After the pups were vaccinated, little colorful ribbons were tied around their necks. They looked a pretty picture!

Soon people started walking in to adopt the pups. They got to choose their new family member first, after which they had to complete an adoption formality.

Enjoy the pictures! The families were also given counseling by the doctors and volunteers.

All the families with their new babies received puppy care kits from Let’s Live Together and some more pampering from Pedigree who had also set up stall.

There was someone who did not hesitate to adopt the pup with three legs. For the records, this little one runs the fastest!

It was a beautiful day!

Four Little Paws

2009-08-13T08:56:00.007+05:30

I am writing after a nearly four-month long hiatus. I was having one of those angry conversations with God once again. Certain events in these months had made me feel extremely restless. Living in this city had started to choke my innards as violently as the exhibition of violence outside—extreme levels of cruelty, silent suffering and pain!! I was feeling very, very angry and helpless.

Angry, because I couldn’t turn a blind eye to the brutality all around (I often asked, are all planets equally violent.... If not, WHY AM I HERE?). And helpless that I couldn’t do anything to make a perceptible difference. Even the choices that I had made in my life seemed so meaningless before the mounting violent choices of others!! I tried to write but no words would come out except for an overpowering sense of felt bitterness. “I can’t take it anymore!!!!” My innards screamed. All I could see around me was an overwhelming lump of mass made of material that looked just like humans but with brains that can think of nothing but “I”, “me”, and “mine”! Compassion, love, and empathy sadly limited within “I”, “me”, and “mine”!

More than three months passed, and in this time I went on a road trip to Coorg and another to Shirdi, watched Harry Potter, few other movies—old and new, the reality shows on television, wondered about different things but didn’t write about any! The trip to Shirdi was significant. Sai Baba of Shirdi holds an extremely special place in my existence. He is my guardian angel, and someone who shows me the path from the other side. I was in Shirdi for the first time for a long awaited darshan. “Why is the earth so cruel?” I asked Him too. “And if I have to feel sad every day witnessing the cruel acts of my fellow humans, how do I live....”

A few weeks back I received a mail from someone called Achala Pani and the contents were such that I went to meet her immediately. Very soon I was introduced to her world of street pups, street dogs, and abandoned breed dogs. I learnt how she along with some volunteers work on a project called Let’s Live Together, how they pick up abandoned pups and injured pups and foster them till they find the pups a loving adopted home. I learnt of stories with happy endings, of how little pups found loving human homes. I felt answers to my angry questions beginning to come....

Then I met Four Little Paws. I met her at Achala’s. She was squatting at the far corner of the room, a little hesitant and looking steadily at me with her little black-pearl like eyes. All of a few inches high and with specks of white and rust in her otherwise black body, she made a perfect case to fall in love with her. She had been found a week back in a gutter all alone—no mother—no body to look after her—thin, weary, and sick. A volunteer had brought her to Achala’s home. Little Paws was initially terrified of human touch but very soon her flawless little soul recognized a “secure” touch.

I met Little Paws when she was already seven days in a secure healing environment. She was only 1.5 months old and I was deeply touched by the innocence in her that had seemingly made her put behind the traumatic first few weeks of her life. She enjoyed chewing my fingers with her pointed little teeth and it was a blessed sight to see her hold a biscuit between her two front paws and munch on it like a squirrel.

I was sad to leave the company of Little Paws when it was time to say goodbye. Within a week I was informed that she had been adopted. Another message from God. “Now calm down,” God said. Hmmmmm.... “But I want more. I want more!” I said.

“You will have more.” God said.

I dedicate this post to Four Little Paws and Achala. They got me to create something out of the felt bitterness. They showed me the face of goodness from the highest echelons of the spirit. I wonder what Little Paws is called in her new home. I will hold her close in my memory as those four little paws that chewed my fingers and while at it, made me despair less.

Photographs: Courtesy Achala Pani

Please adopt us, we want to be loved too

2009-08-10T18:19:00.002+05:30

Of Bananas and Caramels

2009-04-16T23:57:00.012+05:30

“Heyyyyyy I have invented something really yummy! Make it now and tell me what you think!!” That was *MD’s opening line from the other end of the telephone at well past 11:00 pm, one evening.

“Mummmmmm, yummmmmmmmmm, very, very, nice”, she continued with all the special effects.

“Ok, what is it?” I asked impatiently.

MD continued with what it seemed from the “beginning” (as we say, shuru say). “You see, I had a sudden craving for something sweet and there were no sweets in my larder! All I could find were some bananas which is exactly not what would have satiated my craving. But then you see, a little imagination and a lot can be done with a banana fruit! I cut them up gole-gole, lit a slow fire, put the tava on the flame, smeared the tava with ghee, and then laid out the banana pieces on the ghee. When the side down had turned golden, I sprinkled the non-golden side with sugar and turned them over. Soon when the sugar caramelized, I turned them up and switched off the flame. I left them on the tava to cool a bit and become crispy and nowwwwwwwwwww I am having them. Mummmmmm, yummmmmmmmmm, very, very, nice…………………………”

As if this was not enough, “Make it right now”, she implored.

“First, I am not having a craving for sweets, second there is no banana at home,” I replied.

But perhaps MD did not know then that I had heard her recipe with rapt attention and registered it in my mind for future recall. And, out of curiosity more than any thing else, I tried her recipe the following day. “Hmm, not bad”, I thought to myself. I got a little bold and served it to a couple of friends too. “Where did you learn to make this?” was the first question I was asked as I watched my friends nibble on the caramelized bananas with great relish! Here’s a picture I took of the bites still on the tava being cooked – in fact, I served in the tava itself – with one fork each for everyone – that lent the serve an exotic air!!

Well, I have never made a post on food on my blog before, so glad to broaden the scope, thanks to MD!

*MD: For any of you who may wonder who I am talking about, MD is my sister.

Tagged and Passed

2009-04-15T23:51:00.004+05:30

I was recently tagged by Twisted Faktory to complete a meme. I have been “tagged” once before. So I knew what being tagged means. It means answering some questions and passing on the questions to friendly bloggers who’d be interested in answering the same questions and passing them on.... But I didn’t know what “meme” meant before I was tagged this time. Now I do, and here is one of the most comprehensive explanations I found on the internet.

Now, coming to the rules of this tag, they are:
1. Respond and rework.
2. Answer questions on your own blog.
3. Replace one question. Add one question.
4. Tag eight bloggers.

The following are my responses to the questions:

What are your current obsessions?
Watching movies, watching television, and reading newspaper

Which item from your closet are you wearing most often?
The lightest kurta with the shortest sleeve

What's for dinner?
Pav-bhaji with mango juice

Say something to the person who tagged you:
May you fulfill all the things you have planned to do in life. My best wishes.

Your favorite vacation spots:
The mountain areas of Uttaranchal and the Nilgiri mountains in South India

Your worst nightmare:
To be left alone on earth

Reading right now?
Yes, a book on guiding dreams.

What is the last movie you saw and enjoyed? Rate it out of 5 stars.
The Reader. Five stars.

Guilty pleasure?
Shopping for clothes

First spring thing?
Taking off from office work

Best thing you ate or drank lately?
Aaam panna by Haldiram’s

Care to share some wisdom?
Respect every creation of Nature, however small. Respect begets respect.

Boon you would ask for if God came before you?
To grant me Aladdin's magic lamp in full working condition

What would happen if you are not a woman/man (which ever is applicable to you?)
Me, as a biological man

Are you voting this time?
No. I was told I am not eligible - I need to be occupying my current residence for at least six months.

I tag:
KD and her thoughts clamoring for attention
Mesdi’s and her simple cooking
Little Budi and his side of the story
M and her words and life
A curved line and her musings
Sigma and her thoughts
A computer guy who loves to travel

What goes, comes around: Making ethical choices

2009-04-09T23:53:00.004+05:30

Friends, Canada’s annual slaughter of baby seals has begun – of babies less than 4 weeks old and according to sources “who haven’t had their first swim yet”. The baby seals are being clobbered to death every hour of the day for their FUR. Last year, more than 2,05,000 seals were killed for FUR on the Canadian soil.

I have been thinking.... on the one hand the whole world is reeling under threats of terrorism, violence of every kind imaginable, communalism, fascism, racism, wars, death, destruction, and the list goes on.... and on the other hand as a human race we are continuing to inflict pain and suffering on the millions of members of our animal kingdom, every second of each and every day. What do we expect after this – that our lives will be a cloudless saga and the little spaces we occupy on earth violence-free? But that is not possible, because what goes comes around too. This is the Universal Law, which we quote when convenient and ignore when we need to make choices that will upset the habits we have formed. In the words of Leo Tolstoy, "As long as there are slaughter houses, there will be battle fields." I cannot agree more. Today, I may aspire to adopt a cruelty-free lifestyle which is a choice I make in my individual life, but there are millions of my own kind who abet the harming and killing of animals.

As human beings we have the power to exercise creativity in the different fields of work we choose in life but without a sense of ethics our creativity may be a hotbed of bad karmas. To take an example in the context of this post of mine, are the fashion designers and the rich class (often without ethics) who create a demand for fur. And to “fulfill” this demand, millions of animals such as baby seals, rabbits, dogs, etc. are led to suffer horrific deaths. I am ashamed at what we collectively do to the unsuspecting animals that are simply trapped and killed. I have been following the protests of animal activists from all over the world including the stand of the cruelty-free cosmetic brand LUSH against the slaughter of seals in Canada. The least I can do is endorse online petitions to the Government of Canada and hope it will put a stop to the brutal killing of baby seals and also hope that the “demand” created for fur will cease to exist. You can also lend your voice by signing up on the petition by clicking here. Besides, if you want detailed updates on the protests and see how the protesters are creating public awareness, you can click here.

There is enormous power in intent. If many people collectively hope for something to happen, it is bound to happen. For example take the case of the apparel brand Urban Outfitters who have recently issued a notice to the effect that all their stores are now fur-free. This declaration came after they received 4000 online petitions from individuals seeking for fur to be pulled out from their stores. Kudos.

But, Armani refuses to stop using fur for his fashion brand which means he refuses to stop killing little bunnies from whom he gets fur. We can keep trying and hope that one day he will give a chance to his conscience to be heard and make a compassionate choice. We can send out our intent to Armani by clicking here.

"The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated," is a thought that Mahatma Gandhi has left us with. We expend a massive amount of intellectual capital on why violence happens and the strategies to counter it.... I end with a simple thought: non-violence begins at home.

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time – Mark Haddon

2009-04-02T23:21:00.012+05:30

I am passing through a curious phase in life. I can’t seem to finish any book I start to read. I seem to only have enough attentiveness to finish a short article. I can’t seem to enjoy most programmes on television. I seem to watch only reality shows (hmmph and enjoy them too) and the **Aastha channel. I can’t seem to like eating regular food anymore, such as rice for lunch and chapattis for dinner. I seem to want anything but rice and chapattis for lunch!! I also seem to have developed a hunger for films over which I devour many packets of my favorite onion-flavored potato chips from Lays. I can’t seem to enjoy my weekends at home anymore. I seem to have a compelling need to go out and explore. As though time is running out. Now, what kind of life crisis is this?!

Hmmm, today’s post is to record and remind myself that there are exceptions too. For instance, I actually finished one book I had started, in three consecutive days flat, with nap-gaps in between, of course. The book that kept me glued to it is the “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time” written by Mark Haddon. No, it is not a doggy tale, it is a mystery tale, rather. There is a dog but it gets killed in the very first page of the book. I don’t like fiction and films where dogs get killed which is why I did not pick up “Marley And Me” during my last trip to the bookstore and left watching the film based on it, mid-way. But, in this book I did not mind too much that the dog gets killed because it happens in the first page before I have formed attachment with the dog.

I would recommend The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time to anyone who adores mysteries and thrillers. The story is about Christopher, an autistic boy gifted with a brand of intelligence quite different from the ordinary understanding of what “intelligence” comprises of. Christopher, inspired by Sherlock Holmes, his idol, gets involved in solving a mystery in unique style and while at it, discovers secrets about his own family that jar him in a peculiar way. This is where the mystery lies which you can find out if you read the book. The story is told in first person and this brings Christopher very close in the imagination of the reader besides speaking volumes about the brilliance of casting and composition of the author, Mark Haddon.

I think I hung on to the book – one, because of the mystery in it, two, because of the fantastic insights of an autistic person – about his own behavior and his observations about the behavior of “normal” people. And three, because of the skilled integration of mystery with insights into the mind of an autistic adolescent by the writer. Sample some parts of the book by clicking the images below for a larger view.

I hope you can read the book sometime.

*************

**Speaking of the Aastha channel, I enjoy hearing some discourses telecast through the channel such as those of Brahmakumari Shivani and Baba Ramdev. I heard Baba Ramdev say something very interesting the other day. He was expounding upon how the Indian way of life has been envisioned to be fee from violence and as an example he spoke of the mechanism of the broomstick. Brooms as we know have gaps between each of its sticks. According to Baba Ramdev, gaps have been deliberately conceived so that small insects - including ants caught in them can scamper to safety. Quite profound!

The healing touch of yellow

2009-03-25T01:22:00.046+05:30

Before summer sets in, I want to post these pictures I clicked at a city park recently. Spring time yellow. I found myself gazing at the yellow all around me for a long time. The eyes felt warmed, the heart too. I was thinking how sometime back I had got interested in color therapy and had dabbled in it for a while before mundane concerns in life took over.

Saints and spiritually evolved souls have been depicted in print with a halo around their heads and bodies since as long as we can go back in time. Have you wondered what this halo, or glow, or light is all about.... this is the aura.... and, all of us have an aura which is nothing but the energy field around us or our own unique resonance. Sometimes we "catch" the resonance of others and experience telepathy with the person. But most of our eyes are not trained to "see" the aura, yet a lot of us can feel it. This is why sometimes we say we “feel” at ease being around with some people and at other times we are not able to trust some, despite the absense of tangible reason! Therefore, the energy field or aura is an informer of our internal states. The spiritually evolved souls with hours of meditation, have mastered the technique to read and interpret the energy fields of others.

I started with spring time yellow and digressed to the aura, you may be thinking. Not quite, because sitting at the city park with yellow all around me and thinking of color therapy and especially the therapeutic/healing powers of the yellow color, I was also thinking about the significance of the color yellow in our auras. Here I must mention that our auras are made up of the seven rainbow colors and their different hues. The colors change hues depending on our internal states. Now, I am no expert at interpreting auras or anywhere near to it, but I can try. Color yellow in the aura signifies spiritual energy and awakening in the person – its various hues signify various stages of awakening and inspiration. Spiritual people are fundamentally warm, genuinely friendly, non-materialistic, happy and content, compassionate, generous, wisdom seeking types, peace seeking types, and intuitive. If the color yellow signifies spiritual awakening and inner peace, it is no wonder then why we feel our spirits soar on a warm, sunny-yellow day and perhaps this is the same reason that the yellow all around me in the park made me feel so much at peace.

While aura readers assess the aura to diagnose a physical or psychological condition, color therapists provide guidance on how various colors in different ways can cure the cause of the condition. For example, the color yellow is used to treat chronic depression. A color therapist/healer will counsel the person with depression on how to use yellow in his/her life to full advantage in order to increase self-esteem, courage, and optimism. The person may be advised to go on a yellow diet or drink water in which the energies of yellow have been tapped. This is very easy and can be done at home by covering a glass bottle filled with water with orange cellophane paper and leaving it in under the sun. The therapist may advice using more of the color on one’s person as in apparels and accessories. The therapy may also include transferring the goodness of yellow crystals. Sometimes it is advised to have one part of an entire room painted yellow. Last here but this is not the end, a person with chronic depression may be guided to meditate on the color yellow. As in, the healer may ask the person to close the eyes and imagine being enveloped in yellow light. This is called visualization or channeling which is done to tap and source the universal energies within oneself.

Ordinarily, yellow can be worn in apparels and accessories when you want to feel bright and cheery. I have worn yellow to uplift my mood at times, and I wonder whether you have, too :-)

Mad Dogs and a White woman

2009-03-18T01:09:00.017+05:30

The title of my post is inspired by the title of the autobiography of Crystal Rogers. The autobiography is called – Mad Dogs and an Englishwoman. On one of my tours around the city, I saw this extraordinary sight for which I couldn’t find a more apt caption – Mad Dogs and a White woman:

I took this shot from hundreds of meters away with a zoom lens which is why the images are not as sharp as I would have liked them to be. Clicking pictures from close quarters may have made the trio conscious of a stranger. Also, my behavior would have been outright intrusive, so I decided to intrude from meters away.... what to do, the temptation was too much.... !

When I passed by the trio and was within earshot, I heard the lady humming. The melody, in a flash transported me back to my Class V school room where we learnt Wordsworth’s – The Solitary Reaper. The sense of melancholy in the lady’s tune was akin to the sense I got from the poem two decades back! It would be charitable to say that I was “amazed”. It was more than that, I do not have the appropriate words. Like connecting to a forgotton thread.

I am sure the lady was not English (I have reasons to think she was from Israel), so I think it is fair to call her the “white woman”. The dogs are “mad” because I think all dogs are mad. To my mind, dogs are one of the craziest creations of Nature. Crazy, coz they are capable of snuggling up to you even if you have shouted at them. Crazy, coz they are capable of protecting you even if you have been mean to them. Crazy, coz they are capable of dropping their egos and apologizing first. And, crazy coz they are capable of listening unconditionally to your melancholic strains....

Pakistan, fond memories

2009-03-05T10:35:00.005+05:30

When I read or hear about one more evidence pointing towards the turmoil in Pakistan, it reminds me of my visit to the country in 2004. I feel so sorry that evidence has begun to come at a rapid pace. The memories of my visit leap up in my consciousness and I so much wish that the present was just a nightmare.

I had the opportunity to visit Pakistan for a month in 2004 of which I stayed mostly in Muree and a week or so between Islamabad, Rawalpindi, and Lahore. Muree, a charming hill resort, a little more than an hour drive from Islamabad has given me the gift of friendship of some lovely people from Pakistan. I have sat on its soil and watched the sun rise and depart behind the mountains for days together. Walking in the woods of Muree I would think – how do I call this leaf fallen on the ground a “Pakistani leaf” or the pine tree yonder a “Pakistani pine tree”. Silly thoughts. But the boundaries were muddled in my head.

Pakistan and Bangladesh have always been fabled lands in my mindscape. Perhaps because we were One at one time until a bloody separation tore us apart. I was not born at that time as me but I am sure something somewhere has remained from a past lifetime to make me feel the bond. The details of my stay in Pakistan come back vividly. I cannot forget the shopkeepers in Lahore who declined money in exchange of the purchases I made. I was a “mehmaan” they said. They had left behind their families in India, they told me – members of the family who could not cross over to the other side at the time of partition. Some had left behind their property, land, everything. I had come from the land they were forced to abandon. Perhaps I represented nostalgia for them, a remembrance of the good times, of togetherness with their own. I cannot forget the roadside vendor selling pistachios on the streets of Muree who insisted that I keep the packet I had picked up as a gift from him. I cannot forget the gentleman behind the counter at the Islamabad airport who waived off tariff on my extra luggage with a smile. I also cannot forget the hospitality of the Pakistani people – of the many at whose homes I stayed. Driving down the manicured streets of Islamabad or shopping in the narrow lanes of Lahore or smelling the wondrous mountain air in Muree, I remember the feeling of gay abandon – boundaries, there were none. After the visit, I never believed any jingoism against Pakistan.

Now, I worry about my friends there. I wonder whether they still feel safe in those sensuous Islamabadi-style shalwar-kurtas that showed off those lovely feminine ankles. I wonder whether they are still able to drive down anytime they wished to the gorgeous ice cream parlors in Islamabad. I wonder whether they feel safe in the work they do to empower their country people. When they don’t write for a long time, I wonder about their access rights to the internet.

With the Pakistani government doing little to help the 26/11 probes, with the shocking news of the Taliban taking over the Swat valley, with the bombs going off in the towns and cities ever so frequently, with the murder of every voice that dares to dissent, and now with the attack on the Sri Lankan cricket team, my heart sinks. I wish the trees and the mountains in the countryside where the militants hide would speak up. I wish they would not stand there mute watching those men prepare themselves for doom. Silly thoughts. Has the weight of negative karmas become so great that balance has tilted in favor of devastation and violence? I wonder whether I can ever go back to Pakistan and feel the gay abandon all over again. I wish people will not hate Pakistan in these terrible times. I really wish the trees would speak up.

Jai ho

2009-02-26T01:51:00.004+05:30

After the triumph of Slumdog Millionaire at the Oscars, lots have been said and written about the film and lots is still being said and written. I wish to add a penny worth of my reflections too. I have already said in this space that I loved the film. I watched it at a time when it was lesser known, not received any award, and was not released in India. Now when I see it with the hype I still love it, maybe more. I am excited. So, what is it that I want to say?

In the last two days I have been reflecting on people’s reactions to the film after it won eight Oscars. Sadly, apart from the excited TV channels and those they interview, I haven’t had the opportunity to speak to anyone from my day-to-day life echoing the excitement I feel. Some are ambivalent, many critical. This has made me reflect on the act of expressing joy. And I am wondering why the expression of unadulterated joy difficult to come by? Must heady thought play spoilsport?

I dialed a friend immediately after the eighth and last award for the film had been announced. I just wanted to share my elation. “You know there is politics behind this”, was the response from the other end. I said I will call her again later. I was in no mood for politics. Later on I thought. A lot of institutions in this world have politics operating in the background. Politics of war. Politics of hate. Politics of power. Even politics of love. There is politics in our little households and workplaces, everyday. So what’s new if there is politics behind Oscar selections? If whatever politics put a beaming Rubina and Azharuddin – kids who have lived 9-11 years of their life next to open drains – on the Oscar stage, should we condemn that politics?

“Rubina and Azhar being on stage does not change anything. What about the thousands of other people living in slums?” was another opinion that another person expressed. But this is weird. The film is a work of art; it did not start out with the promise of changing anything. It is not a social/political movement. But does it not bring pride to the heart to think that the two kids who acted in the film and live in slums, never attended school in their little life, vulnerable at every point – will now receive formal education and upon reaching the age of 18, will be entitled to a sum of 25 lakh each to pursue higher education. I support the fact that they were not paid huge sums of money to act in the film – the money which under all probability would have been passed on to their caretakers. Now at least things are set and set in their best interests – the right to receive education.

Also, doesn’t the achievement of kids living in slums do something to our class mentality? For example, does it not bring to light the ingenuity and brilliance of people living in the “slums”. Doesn’t the fact that the conditions of birth can be changed, triumph?

Some of the people I spoke to said they are “ashamed” of Indian poverty having been shown in the film and have “it” (poverty) receive international awards. In other words they are ashamed of the “slums”. Ashamed of the people who live in the slums. But what right have we to be ashamed of anyone? This is showing sheer disrespect and sheer arrogance. We are not ashamed to hire domestic help from these very slums. Slums are a part of India and will remain so till skewed economic/social/development policies rule the land. Why does a single cricketer earn crores for his presence on the field for a few hours and the thousands of Rubinas and Azharuddins struggle for the basic amenities of life?

I was surprised that even A R Rehman’s recognitions were not wholeheartedly accepted. “He has composed much better music”, came as a whiff of opinion. But then no Tamil or Hindi film he composed for has been nominated for the Oscars. So where does the question of him receiving an Oscar before this arise? One person even said that Ilaiyaraja, Guru to Rehman should have been awarded instead!

Now, before this gets hilarious, I must stop. There were many other observations on similar lines and when I think about them, I want to ask the same question I started off with. Why is the expression of unadulterated joy difficult to come by? Must heady thought play spoilsport? I hope we are not denying ourselves the right to feel pure joy and revel in the success of people without asking too many politically correct questions.

Post at the time of pandemonium

2009-02-19T00:34:00.004+05:30

I am writing this post as an outcome of Munchmany’s comment on my last post. “Please do write more...” she implored! Munchmany – a good colleague and regular visitor to my blog.

Since the end of last week, I have not been able to visit blogs – neither mine nor anyone else’s. It is the usual – I have been totally consumed with office work! I do not fancy such times but they come when their time is due (sadly). The surge of work creates nothing less than pandemonium in my peaceful existence. I start to perceive everything as really BIG and really STRANGE than how I would see them under normal circumstances. The pandemonium starts at the workplace and consumes all my waking hours, not to mention my sleeping hours too.

Last night I had a nightmare of having lost our family dog, Budi Boo to a strange curse that seemed straight out of a science fiction! I woke up only to realize that I was having a nightmare! Strange, but Thank God!

I am a one-member team in a project with two parallel running courses. No one thinks that there should be another team member because I am performing the task of three people. Because I don’t ask, I don’t get. Deliveries are talking place smoothly but I am being asked to “contribute” more. Because I contribute more than asked, I am asked to “contribute” even more! Strange! Strange! Strange!

Over the weekend when I opened my bag to pull out my ATM card, I got one big shock of my life! There it was within its cover but vertically split into two pieces. I ran over the events in my mind to locate what could have brought about the extraordinary state my card is in. The only event I remembered was my falling over a few glass steps at a showroom and falling on my bag. Why do I have this puzzling connection with glass!? Strange!

I was meeting up with a friend on Valentines Day who announced that she is getting married very soon. I thought she is tying the knot with her last boyfriend who I had come to know of through her unending stories. She laughed me away and announced that this is an arranged match she is getting into because “he” cooks well and has promised to cook all throughout their married life. Times have changed! Strange!

Speaking of Valentine’s Day, the hullabaloo created over it by the goondas (aka the moral policing brigade) in the society seemed to fall flat. I went out into the city that day and it looked like any other normal day. At least on Diwali day the entire city is decked up. I am sure it is a very small percentage of people in this country who have any notion about Valentine’s Day! What is this talk of Valentine’s Day invading our culture, if at all it does! Awfully strange!

During this period I watched a documentary titled, “White Light, Black Rain,” a poignant compilation of the voices of the Japanese people affected by the atom bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki at the fag end of World War-II. Most of these people are old now but they carry scars of the devastation on their bodies and minds. The documentary is a powerful caution about what can happen as a consequence of a nuclear war. In the documentary, young men and women from Hiroshima are interviewed and asked what they think about dropping the bombs on their land. All of them looked at each other and drew a blank; they said they cannot recall having heard about the bombs being dropped in their country. That was simply strange!

One of these days, I heard that the domestic help at my parent’s has been caught red handed slipping out money from my father’s purse. The reason for worry was that they did not dismiss her! Amid media reports about the various risks senior citizens living alone face, a domestic help indulging in theft was indeed a cause for worry. Soon, more information about the help started pouring in from the neighborhood – she is known to have hidden valuables inside dustbins conveniently seizing them when she went out of the house to empty the bin. Considering that she is quite a well-to-do person with no apparent un-met economic needs, I wonder if she is a kleptomaniac. I wonder whether there is a cure. Strange obsession.

Last but not the least, that I could write a post at the time of pandemonium is plainly strange. Thank you Munchmany.

The Tomato Smiled

2009-02-11T15:41:00.007+05:30

This morning as I was slicing up a tomato to place inside my sandwich, it smiled. “It” means the Tomato. You don’t believe? I too did not, but see below, it did smile. Please focus on the center.

At first, I did not believe the Tomato smiled at me. I checked the slice I had cut out before, I cut another to check – but neither had the same smile! This miracle has left me feeling good. Last night I remember feeling very agitated about the issue of “moral policing” threatening the freedom of the Indian women. This is no ordinary smile: I feel Tomato wants to tell me to take it easy, breathe deeply, and focus on the positive – focus on what we have, focus on our collective strengths, and never say die. I get the message dear little red wonder!

Nuisance, who?

2009-01-29T18:05:00.007+05:30

It brings immense relief to learn that the Supreme Court has given a stay in appeal against the ill-considered ruling of the Bench of the Bombay High Court to kill all “nuisance” dogs in Bombay (23/Jan 09). It is unfortunate that the High Court did not acknowledge a central legislation. The Supreme Court guidelines decree that if and only a dog is found rabid or mortally wounded or incurably ill, can it be taken and euthanized as per the rules and guidelines.

Nuisance dogs have been defined by the Bombay Municipal Corporation (BMC) as dogs that “bark” and “chase” motorists. While both characteristics are true of dogs, I fail to see how that becomes a reason to exterminate the dogs. Just like human beings, no dog is same – each has a distinct personality. Some are reticent; some aggressive. There are many dogs of both kinds in the locality where I live. On some days, in the dead of the night, they start to bark. Their barks have often woken me up and I have wondered what they are howling at. I tell myself that they must have good reasons to howl and I am able to sleep peacefully. They have never harmed any resident in this area. All of them appear healthy and some lucky ones are regularly fed by the resident families. When young children in the house cry and throw tantrums, their families do not consider snuffing out their lives do they...., humans do and say a number of things that can be termed as “nuisance”, but we do not talk of putting them to sleep, do we? People! You are not the only ones living on this planet and you are not the central point of Creation either, where have you dumped the humanly virtues of tolerance, compassion, and humility? Why make a big issue out of dogs that bark?!

A few days ago, I saw a group of four dogs barking and chasing a car. The car was moving pretty dangerously and on looking closely I found it jam packed with hooligan-type men. I am proud of the dogs that barked and chased them out of the locality!

The issue in this case is perhaps of the large number of street dogs in Bombay. But, have we ever considered why? Studies have revealed that the population of street dogs is directly proportional to the volume of unattended garbage in the city. These studies are an outcome of the perseverance of animal lovers; especially in the city of Chennai. The city Corporation in Chennai had been pursuing the policy of mass killing of street dogs since the time of Independence. Ironically, the population of the street dogs never reduced! After consistent lobbying with the Corporation of Chennai, the animal activists were successful in pursuing it to drop the killer methods and instead resort to systematic sterilization and anti-rabies vaccination programmes to control the street dog population. Since the time the two programmes have started in Chennai, there has been a sharp decline in the cases of rabies in the city. The cities of Bangalore, Jaipur, and Hyderabad also run similar programmes for street dogs. As a result, all these cities haven’t seen any rabies-related deaths over the past five years.

Why does the BMC that has a municipal budget of more than some small countries in the world hesitate to sterilize and vaccinate the 70,000 dogs it claims to have? Why should the dogs have to die because of redtapism? With lofty examples in the country, why is the BMC inclined on going the Shanghai way, what is wrong with them – why have they dumped their brains and locked their hearts in the closet! What kind of heroism is involved in launching an offensive on a defenseless population? Surely, Indians should know better – who have suffered in the hands of oppressors since ages. I cannot help but draw a parallel between the Bombay HC order with the scourge that caused women to be forcefully burnt on the funeral pyres of their dead husbands in this very country more than a century back. It is the same mindset at work – the mindset of the dominant class (now mixed with capitalist thought) to wipe out anything or anyone they consider as the "other".

People; please focus on who the real nuisance is! Rest assured, whoever it is, we will not move a PIL to kill them!

Hoping Audaciously

2009-01-20T00:55:00.004+05:30

Today, on the twentieth day of the year two thousand and nine, one prominent thought will emanate from the bosom of the earth and envelope all its beings in a warm, assuring embrace: Hope. The reason for the thought will take the Presidential oath for the highest office in the nucleus of world power: America. The reason: Mr. Barak Obama.

Hope. America. Obama. Can this combination change the world? Today is the day to hope daringly and to flaunt that we can hope! And why not, we have good reasons to! What a historic victory that was—the first colored man chosen as the head of the state in a land that abolished slavery not very long ago!

In his last address to the nation, Mr. George Bush said that he did what his “conscience” told him is right. I’m afraid that in saying so, Mr. Bush hasn’t at the slightest got the real meaning of the word, “conscience”. Conscience—simply translated into having a sense of right and wrong comes from a deep voice within—that one hears only when one listens to the heart. The (His) heart couldn’t have told Mr. Bush to launch an assault against Iraq and Afghanistan killing thousands of its civilian population, loot the world’s natural resources by exploiting the less powerful nations, militarize the world with deadly nuclear weapons, bully countries to become partners in committing global crimes, ravage old civilizations, obstruct free media, promote economies that makes people hapless consumers without scruples, and many more! Sorry Mr. Bush, beg to defer there, it wasn’t your conscience that led you, it was simply your greed for power—a deathly sickness of the mind that you must really consider looking deeply into. Therefore, Mr. Bush, if you think its your “conscience” which guided you to drop illegal weapons on innocent civilian populations and make their lives miserable for generations to come, then it is not difficult to see what kind of people you had envisioned (hardly the right word for your scary designs) would inhabit the Universe.

Finally, I want to ask Mr. Bush when he said in the same address to his nation that he had to take some “tough decisions”. If that were so, then why do we hear that the Taliban has spread its fangs and its militants are a few kilometers away from our closest border with Pakistan? Mr. Bush, you tried to strangle the spirit of Sufi Islam, your policies have given rise to Jihadi Islam and made Muslims all over the world insecure than they ever were before! Why weren’t some real “tough decisions” taken to dissipate the Taliban movement? I’m afraid Mr. Bush has got it wrong again; I don’t mean “tough decisions” are equated with “mindless violence”!!

Hope. America. Obama: Can the past be redeemed…. today, as Mr. Obama takes oath, I’m sure many of us will listen to him with a lump in our throats and we will believe every word he utters. Today, we will hope audaciously.

Footnote: The title of this post is inspired from the title of the bestseller, “The Audacity of Hope” by Barak Obama, published in 2006.

Angels in the City

2009-01-15T01:23:00.002+05:30

On some evenings when I pass by the main Thiruvanmimur bus stop in Chennai, a blessed sight greets me—a fleeting view of the top of a head with snow-white hair, surrounded by more than a dozen wagging tails. I consider those days as lucky. The head belongs to Mrs. B and the tails to none other than the street dogs of the area. The dogs stand huddled around Mrs. B to receive their daily meal of rice and eggs. Each day, many people witness this act of kindness. People say that Mrs. B has been feeding street dogs for more than 40 years! Moved by the initiative, one day, I decide to donate to Mrs. B's charity. But local people warn me against it. Mrs. B does not accept donations. Each time I pass her by, I am seized by a fervent question, "O Mrs. B, the chosen one, where comes your motivation from?" But, I cannot speak Tamil and Tamil is what she is conversant with.

There is a dog that looks at me with expressive eyes as I board my office bus. Each time I turn back from inside the bus, I find her gazing at me until either of us disappears from sight. I have often wondered what she may be thinking. One day, inspired by Mrs. B, I purchase a bun for the dog and just before getting into my bus, I offer it to her. She gazes at me some more before accepting the bun. As I look back from inside the bus, I see her chomping away, never for once unlocking her eyes with me, until we both are out of sight. Thus, feeding the dog becomes a daily ritual. Some more join in! I thank Mrs. B for the joy she brought me.

One evening as I am shopping for provisions, I am approached by a distinguished looking lady, "I have seen you feeding dogs. I am a dog lover…. would you like to come home for a cup of coffee?" Impulsively, I agree, my heart doing a little somersault with joy. Her house is around the corner—a duplex with a big garden. As she opens the entrance door, I gasp at the sight inside! At least six pairs of doggy eyes stare at me from bodies comfortably nestled on cushions. The lady laughs and invites me to come inside. Over coffee, she tells me that she has twelve dogs in her house—all rescued from various life and health threatening situations. Some are pedigree dogs abandoned on the streets by the owners while some are simply streets dogs brought in for a loving home. Suddenly, four young dogs come scampering into the room, bestowing the lady with their lavish kisses. I am told they are siblings. My eyes well up when I am further told that they were found inside a gunny bag thrown by the sea-side when they were pups—pups small enough to be held in the palm of the hand.

Five Movies

2009-01-07T19:01:00.003+05:30

In 2008 I watched a large number of movies – mostly Bollywood and very few foreign ones. From those I saw, I thought I want to make a list of the ones I liked most and ones that would be at the tip of my tongue if I were to recommend. Here I present my list which is in no particular order of priority. I am not describing the storylines because I don’t intend to present a review – I only want to record what it was in each of the movies that touched me. Some of the films may not have been released in 2008 but I had the opportunity of watching them in 2008 – this is my basis of including them in my list. Also, my list is irrespective of how each fared at the box office or how it appealed to the larger mass of movie goers.

Dasvidanya
This movie made me cry. No, not because the main protagonist dies in the end. Sometimes when you see too much of beauty and aesthetics around you – you cry. The movie is based on a very simple story told in an extraordinarily simple manner – that’s where its beauty lies, I think. The character of Amar, the main protagonist is marked by goodness – such people are rare. I felt like holding death’s hand to prevent Amar from getting consumed by it so that I can get the chance to see more of him in action! I watched this movie in a theatre and remember feeling the involvement of the rest of the people gathered there. The feeling was quite palpable. In fact it was interesting to note that after the film got over and as the credits came along, for a few minutes people were still seated – were they mentally chalking their “to do” list before they die? Likely, coz I was doing the same.

A Wednesday
This is a terrific thriller with a social message. When I had seen it in October last, a part of me had wanted to shower the “common man” with accolades knowing too well that in real life such drama is far from possible. Now after ten heavily armed men walked into the country through the sea route wrecking havoc for nearly three days thereafter, the same part of me wants to believe that the common man can do it! Strange na, there is still a part of me that screams – “kill ‘em all!!!!”, knowing very well that violence is not the solution neither becoming of the human race. Anyway, coming back to the movie, it is one hell of a must watch. I felt that Naseeruddin Shah or the common man’s dialogues towards the end of the movie binds and seals the plot like a fevicol ka jode. The movie left me spell bound.

Khuda key Liyae
This is a Pakistani production directed by Shoaib Mansoor – his debut film. Once again, Naseeruddin Shah as Moulana Wali dazzles with this speech in the court of law. The story weaves and presents some stark realities in Pakistani society – of gender-based biases, of gender-based violence, of youngsters becoming Kasab-like, of the post 9/11 western biases against practitioners of Islam, etc. How these factors affect the lives of the protagonists is poignantly told. Despite the melancholy, I could not stop watching the film. You just want to “get to the bottom of it!” Moulana Wali’s speech makes you wish that you knew more than the basic Urdu [:-)]. Yet, you get the crux and you wish he’d not stop talking. This film also makes you want to reach out to the people of Pakistan – so torn by destructive influences in their society – some influences from outside and most from within – in the form of regressive fundamentalists, customs, and politicians. At the end of the movie, you too join everybody else in saying a silent prayer for Shaan played by Mansoor and earnestly hope that he gets well soon.

Welcome to Sajjanpur
This is one movie that left me with a smile. Well, it’s categorized as a comedy film; it ought to make you smile. Well, I am talking of the lingering smile – when you think about something long after it’s over and it still makes you feel amused. But this is not a comedy film, strictly speaking. It is not mindless comedy, how can it be with Shyam Benegal having directed it. With great storytelling, various social issues from widow remarriage to forceful land acquisition are woven into the narrative with wonderful humor. Some turns in the movie are poignant – something that I believe strums a chord in your heart and makes the experience of watching this movie wholesome. Here, the main protagonist, Mahadev played by Shreyas Talpade is an immensely talented guy who has a way with both the spoken and written word. Mahadev comes across as such a darling.

Rock On
I simply loved the maturity with which this film has been presented. And I simply loved Farhan Akhtar crooning. If the film is about relationships, their portrayal and depth is commendable. Each performance I felt is brilliant. All the characters seem to have got into the skin of their roles. Newcomer Prachi Desai who played the role of Sakshi Shroff is so very fine – she has lived up to the depth demanded by her character. If the film is about a rock band, then they look like a real time rock band! I wish that Luke Kenny's character did not have to die in the end. Is it because he did not have a partner? Bollywood still has to answer that.

Slum Dog Millionaire
“What a plot!!” this was my first reaction to the movie. After seeing this masterpiece of a movie, I couldn’t help feeling proud that I watched it. But wait, I was not involved in its making in any manner, so why was I feeling so overwhelmed and proud!?! It is the same “Dasvidanya effect”!! What is so beautiful about the movie is its compelling storytelling. I saw the movie with a friend brought up in Germany and found myself explaining the meaning and implication of “riots” and of the significance of “Ram” in this land! We were so involved, we wanted Jamal (the main protagonist) to get all the answers right! At the same time I was thinking, you don’t need formal education to win contests, you need intelligence – the intelligence to assimilate the inputs from the environment around you. Most of the life events of little Jamal that helped him answer the questions were unfortunate – so I also wonder about the many people in this country for whom daily life is a struggle against so many odds. This is the last movie of 2008 that I saw. With this level of storytelling, I earnestly look forward to the releases of 2009.

God, Please Save the Little Bunnies

2008-12-31T13:10:00.006+05:30

I want to begin this New Year with a prayer for the all the animals that inhabit this planet. I also pray for a compassionate and Violence-Free world. I pray that may we as humans – the most advanced creations of Nature – acquire a collective sensitivity to understand the full implications of how our actions affect other living beings around us – both animals as well as other humans. The chaos all around us is certainly not a proof of our evolved status as human beings.

Coming back to animals, one piece of news brought me some cheer last week. Donna Karan, owner of the DKNY (Donna Karan New York) fashion brand finally promised publicly (on 22nd Dec, 2008) that she will not use fur for her 2009 creations or use fur anytime in the future. This comes after PETA’s (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) directed campaign against Karan’s use of fur for her fashion label. Karan had been charged with systematic butchering of little rabbits like the one in the picture. Rabbits are routinely skinned alive by the “violent and bloody” fur industry.

This significant declaration from Karan comes after a sustained campaign led by people sensitive to the cause of animals. The people protested outside the designer’s boutique and crashed into her runaway shows to raise awareness against her cruel use of fur. A website – DonnaKaranBunnyButcher.com – (now offline) was launched to expose how little rabbits are tortured to death. The well known American fashion consultant, Tim Gunn also joined the campaign and sent videos to Karan depicting the cruel treatment of animals by the fashion industry. This video also for consumers, helps us make informed choices before buying clothing and accessories made from fur, wool, and leather. The video is available at the PETA site and is too horrific. I couldn’t watch it beyond a point and the little that I did caused me much depression and made me feel so very ashamed of my brethren.

It is heartening to know that Donna Karan has followed in the footsteps of designers such as Ralph Lauren, Tommy Hilfiger, and Calvin Klein who have already stopped using fur. Another battle is being waged. This time it is with Armani who has till date refused to stop his complicity in the killing of innocent animals for profit as he continues to fuel the insane passions of wo(men). Even Tim Gunn’s appeal to Armani has fallen on deaf ears. At times like this, I wish I was in primary or middle school blissfully tucked in a dream world with Enid Blytons and Nancy Drews and Hardy Boys and fairy tales. There are too many cruel and painful things I know about the world now.

God, please save the little bunnies.

Appeal to Armani

Of the Tamil Tongue

2008-12-23T14:34:00.005+05:30

Six months old in the city of Chennai and I can boast of some familiarity with the Tamil language. At least I no longer think of “po” as an abuse word! Early this year when I was not even a month old in the city, I was rudely shouted at by a stout auto rickshaw driver who suddenly appeared in front of me from the wrong side. “Po!”, he thundered. I stopped in my tracks and let him pass. I walked back where I lived feeling very low for being shouted at. Not being able to keep it to myself, I blurted out the incident to my local host. I was not prepared for her reaction – the lady laughed heartily for a full half minute. Then, amidst crackles, she finally said, ‘”Po” means “go” in Tamil, the auto rickshaw driver wanted you to go first!” She laughed even more at my saucer eyes at the revelation.

I resolved that I must learn Tamil, at least the basics. Next day, I related the incident to my colleagues at office and laughed with them. ‘”Wanga” is the opposite of “po”’, they helpfully supplemented. I will surely remember the Tamil word for “come”, I thought to myself. I made the “wang” from “Wang’s Beauty Parlor” opposite where I live as the anchor point. I had begun to delight in my method of learning Tamil.

At the residence of my local host, two serials are watched on daily basis – “Arasi” and “Kolam”, and one weekly dance program, “Maanada-Mayilda”. I also watch them over dinner with the rest of the family. My brain connects the oft-repeated words, and I must say that now I have an impressive collection of words in Tamil whose meanings I know! The three words that top the list are – “rombha” – meaning “very much”, “a lot”, “many”. In its many manifestations, the one that is clearest to me is in the expression, “Rombha thanks!”

The second word is “saapaad”. It is a ubiquitous word, as common as “po” and “wanga”. I hear it not only in the serials but also several times during the course of the day. This is a word not to be missed. “Saapaad” means food. The third word is “sollunga”, means “to say” or “to tell”. I coax an answer from my host’s two and a half year old who is learning to speak English, “Nikkie, what are you doing sollunga……” He doles me out his standard answer, “I am standing”, he prattles, as he removes his mouth from the feeding bottle to answer me.

This is one part of the story. It is another matter that when I open my mouth to flaunt some of my knowledge of Tamil words, I am either laughed at by the light-hearted or given a Pickering-like lecture for the abuse of the Tamil tongue, by natives in serious love with the language.

All said and done, I take the cake in the end. Even the Higgins and the Pickerings look at me with awe for knowing the meanings of “maanada” and “mayilda”. Why, that is easy, what else do you call a deer-and-a-peacock-like dance in Tamil :-)

Notes: The words "maan" and "mayil" in Tamil translates into "deer" and "peacock", respectively. "Ada" translates to "dance".

Password + Confirm + Delete

2008-10-16T15:36:00.005+05:30

LAST MONTH, I said farewell to a 3-year long alliance. It was difficult to let go but I was able to do it. Time made it considerably easy. When I look back, in these three years, the first two were like a party. However, the last one year was marked by suspicions, doubts, apprehensions, fear, anxiety, fickleness, boredom, refusal to comply, etc., etc., etc. One fine day last month, it took one trigger to end it all.

Now that all is over, and considering that it took a while to decide to split, I don’t feel any bitterness. In fact, I have rid myself of many guilt traps. The time is not right, the time is past "right", I have told myself.

I have rid myself of the guilt of not answering text messages, of not returning phone calls, of not trying hard enough, and of having “grown up”. I accept that there are many other people, including my own friends who are having a ball of a time. Long live their unions and re-unions. For me it is a no turning back!

It was good while it lasted. It brought some important people back into my life. Needless to say I put in a lot of efforts to find them and I am happy that I found them—people I have shared my tiffin with 18 years ago, people I have created sweet memories with before disappearing for an intermittent period....... what more can I ask for.......

Well if you have not guessed it already, here comes the clincher...... LAST MONTH, I deleted my Orkut. It wasn’t too difficult. Password + Confirm + Delete!!

Daisy - IV

2008-07-09T17:16:00.015+05:30

Questions

MD thinks I am making excuses. Only she can think so, with an empire under her feet. I too have a little kingdom, except that it is of a different kind. Also, it comes minus leisure internet hours.

Back to where I left. Its now been more than four months since I have known Daisy. In the meantime, there have been more four-legged additions to the gang: Poppy, Rani, Blackie, Bhootni, and one more who I am yet to name (I seem to wait for the right name). It is difficult to tell whether I have adopted the dogs or the dogs have adopted me. So it is appropriate to say that we have adopted each other. Poppy is one year and something old (so I think) and the darling of the lane. She has other benefactors too. She "pops" up from nowhere and looks as fresh as a flower, always. Hence the name Poppy. I have known Rani for as long as I have known Daisy. She is small and lives in perpectual fear of something. She is like a hermit, looks like she has left everything to the Universe. She looks forlorn and hence the name Rani.

I am inspired by the story of a dog who was admitted to the Blue Cross hospital after she was paralyzed in an accident. She could not sit or stand and took her feeds laying on the ground. She looked a ghastly sight with injuries all over her body. An Australian lady and her two children – volunteers at Blue Cross, fell in love with the dog and started feeding it the best dog foods. The lady told me that the feed was imported from Australia. They named her Princess. Blessed by the grace of the Australian family, Princess put up a fight against all odds and one day to everyone's joy and relief she could sit up. The Australian family took her home.

Do I notice any change in Rani? Yes, now she stands her ground when bullied by other dogs, at least.

Blackie gets her name because she is black all over. She also has jet black eyes that twinkle like little stars. Bhootni is the cutest, the naughtiest, and the most playful of the lot. She is forever hungry (therefore the name) and tries to stick her nose into my bag whenever she gets an opportunity. When I pull her ears, she jumps in delight. She is a funny dog who shadows me everywhere. I have to hide behind the cars and sneak out of her sight when I can do without her company. Also, she is the one who creates the maximum racket. The one that I am yet to name shares characteristics somewhat similar to Rani.

Very recently, I realized that my movements are being watched. After all, why would some one want to spend a substantial amount of her time with dogs? Street dogs at that. It seems that people have decided that it is high time they got it all out from the horse’s mouth.

“I have seen you feeding the dogs. You are doing a great service. Are you a social worker?” a lady observes as she pauses her conversation on the mobile to speak to me.

I put on my brightest smile and say, “Do I need to be a social worker to feed dogs?”

“Uh-oh, no, no, not really”, she says and resuming her conversation starts to walk away.

I do not like the idea of people thinking that they need not get involved in social initiatives, it is someone’s else "job". I wonder if I was rude. If I was, I had tried to disguise it with my smile.

One afternoon from the corner of my eyes, I see a young man eyeing me from across the street. He seems he would break into a smile if I caught his eye. That is what I want to exactly avoid. But he is a determined young man, he crosses the street and demands my attention, “It is a great job you are doing. Would you like to do something for humans too?”

I gape at him. Is it sarcasm? Still, I want to know what I can “do” for humans? He introduces himself as an executive from CRY.... Isn’t every living thing – humans, animals, insects, and plants part of the planet? Did the CRY executive ignore the fact or did he just want to complete his targets? The issue is that even in the social sector a hierarchy exists, decided by the beneficiaries of the initiative. You may laugh at me for my interest in the Donkey Sanctuary. As for me, I am glad someone thought about them.

It is not often that you see people wearing sunglasses after sundown. And you wonder about the ones that you catch. Last week, one day at around 8:30 PM in the evening, I sensed a young man with a John Abraham style haircut and goggles giving me signals that he wants to start a conversation with me. After dilly-dallying a bit, finally he was by my side with a question. “Why are you feeding only one dog?” That day it was only Daisy who was around me.

“Excuse me?” I say.

“Why are you feeding only one dog? There are so many others on the street?” he elaborates.

Gosh! Why don’t people mind their own business, I think to myself. I wish Bhootni was around. I would have liked her to bark at him, if possible bite him. I tell him, “If everybody fed a dog each, your question will not be necessary.”

The guy does the vanishing act. He failed at hooking up a girl. He would probably never know that the girl has lived decades more than him.

Anyways, his question lingers in my mind. I dial New Delhi and consult with MD. “Was my answer appropriate or should I have asked him – How many dogs do you feed?” MD says what I said was fine. I take a second opinion from G, my good colleague. She has an opinion. She says I should have said – “Do you want to be fed too?”

Daisy - III

2008-05-21T18:00:00.006+05:30

At The Hospital And After

I reached Blue Cross hospital the day after Daisy was picked up. It took me a while to locate her in the hospital. When I found her, she was still in the isolation room. She hadn’t yet been attended to. A couple of Blue Cross workers were assigned the duty of initiating the formalities for Daisy. Under my scrutinizing eyes, they opened the doors to the isolation room. Daisy emerged at the doorway, and I must admit she looked terrible. Her mouth was red with blood – she would have bitten her tongue from the terror of the “pick-up”. She did not seem to recognize me at all and refused to budge. One of the workers promptly carried her in his arms and we marched toward the general OPD under a tree. A lady doctor greeted us with a smile, and asked Daisy to be laid on the metal table before her. She examined Daisy and ascertained that a muscle on the leg has been damaged in the impact of the accident. Therefore, Daisy limped. She administered an injection and Daisy’s treatment began.

The doctor informed me that the chances of recovery were unknown at that point. It will all depend on how Daisy’s body responds to the injections, she said. I left the hospital that day not with guilt but with a feeling of peace. A little voice inside told me that she has come this far, it will only get better from this point onwards.

Daisy was in the hospital for four weeks. I visited her every weekend. My visits also opened the doors to a world of compassion, love, and care toward animals. This was the first time I ever visited a hospital for animals. In the hospital, apart from dogs, there were cats, goats, pigs, and horses. I read whatever I could find about Blue Cross Hospital, Chennai on the internet. My purpose of coming to Chennai became clear to me. This was my primary gain. I left the hospital each of the days I visited with a sense of inner peace. The world of animals is so uncomplicated unlike humans that it charges the weary recesses of the mind with hope and love.

By the end of the second week, Daisy had started responding to the treatment. After the third week, she was up on her four feet. I was very excited at the recovery. All the same, she had grown thin. I was told that she was not taking food, she was in fact, surviving on glucose. Now when I think about it, I am not surprised or alarmed. Daisy is very choosy about food!!

Finally, the day to release her approached. MD had presented Daisy with a violet band. I had chosen the color. Being the color of the crown chakra, among many of its properties, violet also provides healing – physical, psychological, and spiritual. I believed Daisy would stand protected at all times. Another reason for the band was to send out a signal that the dog had an “owner”. I handed over the band to one of the Blue Cross workers requesting him to fix it around her neck the day she is released from the hospital.

The van, a much smaller one halted at the same spot it had come four weeks back. A door opened and Daisy popped out. Although thin, she looked sprightly with twinkling eyes and a cool voilet band around her neck :-) She looked relieved to return to her old spot. She went about busily sniffing the various corners of her bus stop. It was fun to watch her. The Blue Cross workers produced a sheet of paper once more, I signed on it, and tipped them generously out of heartfelt gratitude. I left Daisy at the bus stop as I walked back home.

To be continued.

Daisy - II

2008-05-14T15:02:00.008+05:30

Daisy Goes To Hospital

Two weeks passed, Daisy regained strength – the wound healed, and she started to walk. But, she still limped. That is when I decided she needs medical attention and institutional care. I wanted her to scamper about on her four legs just like Budi Boo. My search to find medical help for her began. I googled.

Apart from what I had set out to find, I came across news articles about exceptional people in Chennai whose compassion for dogs have translated into meaningful service for these animals. I was led to the rousing tales of Narasimhamoorthy and C. Padmavathi, Amala Akkineni, and Yaggna Prabha. I remembered the language of omens that Paulo Coelho talks about in The Alchemist. I felt that these news articles were omens to support and encourage me in my search to find help for Daisy.

I finally found a list of animal welfare organizations in Tamil Nadu. I still remember my ecstasy at finding the list, I was ecstatic because I had never taken an initiative of this nature in my life before! The list made me feel that I had won half the battle. Armed with the list, I started dialing. Most numbers had changed, so I had to search some more to get the current ones. I spoke to different types of organizations with various approaches toward animal welfare. One well-spoken gentleman wanted to rope me in as a volunteer-researcher for his organization, another wanted me to help them with their website “in lieu” of helping Daisy. Another well-intentioned gentleman tried his best to convince me to give up the idea of keeping her under institutional care. His reasons were plausible, only it didn’t suit me. According to him, I should get Daisy home from where she can receive medical attention. Leaving a dog in an animal hospital is sinful, from what I understood of his viewpoint. My plea that the possibility is RULED OUT coz I live in a P-A-Y-I-N-G G-U-E-S-T accommodation fell into deaf ears.

It was taxing speaking to this well-intentioned gentleman, so I was grateful when he decided to spare me.

After more phone calls and more talking, I finally hit upon the Blue Cross of India, a hospital for animals – primarily dogs. For now that is all I will say about Blue Cross. It deserves a separate post, which I shall make in the future, soon. So done, it was decided that Daisy will go to Blue Cross for treatment. All arrangements were made and at an appointed hour on the first Saturday in March, the Blue Cross pick-up truck stopped in front of the bus stop where Daisy lived.

Two men got down from the truck; they first made me sign on an undertaking as I was the informer for this “pick-up”. That afternoon, Daisy was sprawled on the bus stop grounds enjoying a siesta, she had no notion about what was to come. I had especially been careful not to make any mention of the hospital trip to her knowing fully well that dogs are capable of extra sensory perceptions.

The operation to “pick” her began. One of the men approached her stealthily from behind with a long iron handle at the end of which was a roundish clasp. Seeing the device, I remember feeling a sudden pang of guilt. What was I pushing Daisy into? I was having a premonition of what was to happen. Suddenly, the man, with a quick and deft movement of his hand fixed the clasp on Daisy’s neck. Time seemed to stop for a few seconds thereafter. And my heart missed a beat. A heart-rending cry filled the air. The passersby stopped in their tracks. The crows started flying low helter-skelter and crowing menacingly. The invisible dogs in the locality joined in her shrill cry....

I will not go into the details from this point on till I went to meet Daisy the following day at the hospital. Suffice to know that I was distraught for a long time after she was “picked-up”. The manner in which it was done got to me. Everybody I spoke to about the ghastly pick-up tried to convince me that, that is how dogs from the street are picked up. Moreover they told me, the method does not cause pain to the dog, although it seems that it does. I hoped that they were right. My heart was still divided. I patiently waited for the next day when I would meet Daisy at the hospital. For a dog that I knew to have suffered trauma, how far was I justified in subjecting her to this experience? I wanted to know.

To be continued.

Daisy - I

2008-05-09T17:40:00.011+05:30

It was a sultry morning. I was waiting for my bus to office. The bus stop was crowded with office goers, their eyes glued to the road. Not many would have noticed a bundle of brown huddled on the ground – face buried between its two fore limbs. It seemed oblivious to the human forms moving around. I feared that it might get trampled. Just then, I saw a woman pause by it, a train of children behind her. Suddenly, she kicked the brown bundle. It got up with a start, eyes dazed, looking hurt. That was the first time I saw its full form. I also noticed that it limped as it slowly made its way to a corner in the bus stop. It had a fresh wound on one of its hind limbs – most probably caused by a speeding motorist.

This was sometime in the last week of February this year. I remember feeling very upset and helpless. All day I channeled Reiki to the emotionally and physically hurt dog praying in earnest that insensitivity towards animals come to an end. I also prayed for it to get better. Before the end of the day, I had started to feel hugely responsible toward the dog. I resolved to facilitate its recovery. From next day onwards, I started giving it food twice a day. I found that it had no interest in the South-Indian platter. All it had was Marie biscuits and milk. I got a red-colored bowl for the milk.

It was a shy dog. It wouldn’t come near me although I could sense that its eyes lit up when I arrived with food. It seemed scared of humans. It would spring up with a startle when someone passed by. I am sure this reaction was rooted in some traumatic past experience. It never really waited for me and my arrival with the food, or showed that it did. At the same time, I could sense that it was grateful for the food. The dog came across as a being who had lost all interest in life.

I encountered all kinds of attitudes from people who had started noticing us. A guard in the nearby building offered to keep its bowl at his station at the gate, so that I do not have to get it everyday. I felt very heart warmed by his thoughtfulness. There was another who ordered me and my dog to go to a distance because he believed we were a nuisance outside his premises. Not that the sidewalk belonged to him. There were yet others who enjoyed watching us and would say a few kind words here and there. This experience reinforced one learning I've had in life: for every negative action or thought expressed, there are always positive actions or thoughts of equal number or more. The Universe has fine ways of balancing, tilting it in favor of the positive. Faith is the key.

One early morning in the stage of wakefulness and sleep, a name popped into my consciousness: DAISY. I decided to name my dog Daisy. I felt that “Daisy” has been her name forever.

To be continued.

Counting My Blessings

2008-04-30T14:45:00.007+05:30

I have lots to be thankful and grateful for. I try to live in an attitude of gratitude. But, sometimes, when something does not go my way, I am quite capable of cribbing. I do it as a matter of right. A few days back I had a mail from a penpal. One sentence stood out, it read, “Please try to remember to be grateful for the things you have”. Obviously, I had complained. What I got as a response is profoundly true. Therefore, I have decided to dedicate this post to counting my blessings. I want to make a mention of all the things that have made my four-month long stay at Chennai joyful. I don’t want to look beyond the four months because then I will have too many blessings to count and you will not believe me when I crib!!

Here goes.... these are a few of my b-l-e-s-s-i-n-g-s.... Daisy, Blue Cross, pups, doggie world, Sri Kumaran Stores, Pondy Bazzar, Globus, idlis@Anandas, chillie parantha@Sangeethas, Ratna Stores@Pondy Bazzar, basundi, set dosa, and fresh orange juice@Geetha Cafe, Gandhiji chips@T. Nagar, the luncheon gang@LB, weekend gateaways to Bangaluru, Life Research Academy, Bharmarishi Patriji, Pondicherry, the drive along ECR road, tender coconut, cheap transport, the cool sea breeze in the evenings, heavenly coconut polis@Sree Annalaxmi Sweets, Landmark@Spenser’s Plaza, the time to read, the time to relax, the time to shop.... (I might come back to add more).

I will make separate posts on some of the above. As for now I am content with listing them. I am all set to enjoy the Labor Day off tomorrow. How I only wish that 1st May had been a Friday and not a Thursday.... had it been a Friday, I would have got an extended weekend.... and now that it is a Thursday, I hate to think I will have to come to office on Friday....

PS: My roomie has been sent to her hometown, she has malaria.

Gurgaon say Chennai tak

2008-04-24T16:43:00.005+05:30

I am writing on this space after more than a year. At various points of time during this period, friends tried their best to get me to write. But, the writer’s block had totally consumed me. I am especially touched to find the link to Ambrosia blog still in theirs, despite the fact that I had removed my blog from public space. I am grateful for the patience and the faith.

When I started my blog, I never wanted it to be on something specifically. My life is an assortment of various things, events, and people. With no central theme. My blog couldn’t be any different! So I continue with the same thought I started it with.

I am in a different city now. Chennai. I will soon complete four months of stay here. Most of my friends came to know about my shift after I shifted here. I am getting more into the habit of taking decisions and making the announcements later.

Most asked, “Why Chennai!?!”

Valid question. I got a hint of disbelief mixed with amusement even in the text messages. At first I maintained that I came for the ocean. Only to increase the amusement component in the tones. I think I managed to convince them that I took the decision in a sound mental state. Cut.

January 2008. Chennai. I am greeted by humid air as I step out of the plane. I quickly remove my coat. It was freezing only three hours ago. I wait for the evening. I am excited to sit by the ocean. When I reach Marina beach, I don’t notice the ocean. I notice the filth instead. I am in high spirits. I discount all of that. I join my new office. I am not exactly excited. I know it will be the same. I quickly check the number of leaves I am entitled to. I will not get more than three till June. This gives me a shock. Why did'nt the company mention this in the terms and conditions! Still, I am all set to enjoy a new city. Chennai. Mid January I am all worked up. I need to find a place to stay in. I cannot stay at the company guest house beyond a month. Ideally, I want a single room set. I travel with the blazing sun following me, looking for a place to stay. Soon I find out that the set-up of my dreams is out of question. I will need to pay a year’s rent in advance. I am not prepared for that kind of commitment. I settle for a hostel. But I terminate my search soon enough. The hostel rooms are as filthy as the beach. They are slums from inside. Last week of January. It is a Sunday. I am very tensed. I am sitting under a big banyan tree by the road side after several unsuccessful attempts that morning.

I have one of those regular angry conversations with God, “What do you want from me!!”, I ask.

I buy a copy of Freeads. I search out an ad. I call. A pleasant voice answers my call. She says she is in Kerala right now. I can come and see her place the following day.

“How many will share the room?”, I ask.

She says two.

“Will there be space to move around with two beds in the room?”, I ask.

She is amused, “Yes, you come and see”, she says.

In the last few days, during my accommodation hunting, I have seen bunk beds made of iron stuffed in small rooms. They remind me of the dingy war-time barracks. I cannot expect anything better. I can imagine only the worst.

The following day I see the place. It is a two room flat. One room shared by the girl, her two and a half year old son, and her grandma. The other is where I am to stay, with another girl, of course. There is plenty of room between the two beds. I pay the advance.

February 2008. I shift in to the PG. My roommate is a young woman from a small town in Tamil Nadu. She is a software developer, one of the many in this profitable industry. She is at least 10 years younger to me.

On the first day she declares, “I sleep at 10 pm, I want the lights off by then.”

I wonder if I heard right. Yes I did. I don’t say anything to her. I stop talking to her from that day on. I am hurt. I finish all the work I can do in the room before 10 pm. After that, I sit in the living room and read. This is my schedule every evening. The girl and her grandma are very nice. The little boy is funny. He loves to call me by my name. A M Y-R I T A, he prattles. My roommate comes to the living room. She puts on the television. The audio is blaring. I wonder if she has a hearing defect. She talks very loudly on the phone as well. And she talks all her waking hours. In Tamil. She has a booming voice, with no voice modulation. I have an angry conversation with God.

March 2008. Things happen at the workplace. I don’t remember much. It is as if I don’t take conscious notice of that aspect of my life. Life goes on amidst inane conversations with colleagues. At times, I find a connection with some. Those are fleeting moments. Guess everyone is too busy. It has got very, very hot.

April 2008. My roommate has got into a strange habit of talking loudly on phone, at midnight. I can’t take it any more.

I tell her, “Can you please go out and talk!” I speak to her for the first time I started living with her.

She is taken aback, “Ok-ok”, she mumbles and goes out.

She has also got into the habit of switching on the lights at odd hours when I am in deep sleep. It wakes me up. I wonder if she is frenzied or suffers from weak eyesight? She behaves like she is the only person in the room. She never cleans the room or the bathroom. Her side of the room is like a slum. Mincing no words.

Something interesting happened. Yesterday, I find her bleary eyed, literally dragging herself about in the room. I am shocked, I ask her what the matter is. She says she has viral fever. I ask her if she is taking medications. She says she is going to the hospital to get injections. So I tell her to take care. I am not surprised I spoke to her. As she is about to step out I ask her how she will go to the hospital.

“My friend has come to take me”, she says and smiles a sick person’s smile. I would have offered to accompany her. She had the choice to refuse.

Today in the morning, I am in the bath. There is no electricity. After a few minutes, I hear the fan in my room. A few seconds later the bath light is also on. This is a rare show of sensitivity on her part. It brings a smile to my face. Cut.

This is one side of my nearly four-month long chronicle in Chennai. There is another side to it. Probably the side that has helped me to bear this side of the story. Next post. Next time. I am glad to be back!! :)

The Five People You Meet in Heaven – Mitch Albom

2007-01-01T00:05:00.000+05:30

This is a beautifully written book! It makes for a lovely NEW Year present!! HAPPY NEW YEAR!

This is the story of Eddie, who on his 83rd birthday “dies” in an accident and moves to the spiritual plane. Here, he is met by five people who “died” before him – some are those who he never “knew” in his lifetime. These meetings unfold the mysteries surrounding Eddie’s life, how he got to be the way he was when he was “alive”! These five people he meets guide him to basically understand how each of our lives is connected to the other without us even realizing it. “We move through places everyday that would never have been if not for those who came before us. Our work places, where we spend so much time – we often think they began with our arrival. That’s not true.”

They explain to him the events in his life. He comes to terms with the extreme anger that he still felt about the single event in his youth which changed the course of his life. “Holding anger is a poison. It eats you from inside. We think that hating is a weapon that attacks the person who harmed us. But hatred is a curved blade. And the harm we do, we do to ourselves.” He also understands what it means to sacrifice and how not to think of it in terms of what one “loses”. He understands that no life is a waste, and the only time we waste, is the time we spend thinking we are alone.

His wife who died before him is also one of the five people he meets. The meeting with his wife is a very moving and special one. His wife is the only woman he loved in a way that she remained in his memories in all the 30 years he lived after her “death”. His love for her is explained to him – a quiet, giving love that is deeply felt by both for the other. He is then explained the reason for her early death: to give expression to a love that is beyond the physical, his wife testifies that she has always felt his deep, quiet, grateful love even after her “death”. This is a very joyous reunion for Eddie and he does not want her to leave again; they tell each other every little thing that they missed sharing with the other until it is time for her to go once more...

The book ends on the note – “Each affects the other and the other affects the next and world is full of stories, but the stories are all one.” This awareness inspires to watch what we utter and do – lest we do not cause harm to the other.

This book was a riveting read, very moving too and left me with a very comfortable feeling – the feeling of coming “home”, the comfort of a healing experience. With its simple articulation, the beautiful narrative touches the deepest chords in our consciousness – the part of us that wonders at times about the mysteries of our being and what we are here for.

(The book has been made into a film by the same name directed by Lloyd Kramer and produced by Howard Ellis with teleplay written by the author himself. Mitch Albom is the author of the International bestseller and award-winning book, “Tuesdays with Morrie”).

Pondicherry

2006-12-31T11:55:00.000+05:30

I had the opportunity to pay a visit to this lovely town, early this month. My trip was a very hurried one, I was there for just one day. Pondicherry needs no introduction. It is a must inclusion in any itinerary for travelers to the south of the country. The city is very well connected with Chennai by the East Coast Road. This makes for a very pleasant drive along the sea for a good long stretch that usually takes upto 3 hours. Government and private busses ply frequently between the two destinations. Transport is quite hassle free.

I was staying in the premises of Sri Aurobindo Ashram. A part of the Ashram is built along the coast. The sea looks a heavenly blue against the rocky beach. The locals recount that the time the Tsunami struck the other coastal areas along this line, Pondicherry witnessed only a few rocks from the beach landing on the road. I had just about enough time to walk around on the graveled paths in the Ashram, catch a glimpse of the dispensary, the embroidery unit, check out the old French houses but from outside, listen to some wonderful stories about Sri Aurobindo and The Mother, breathe the cool clear air, take a quick drive around a small part of Auroville and the quiet beach along the Ashram. Living in the Ashram gave a divine feeling. I must mention here that one needs to make advance bookings for stay at the Ashram in either of their four guest houses as there are many visitors who keep coming throughout the year and Ashram accommodation is usually not available within short notice.

There are many places that we go to that seem to invite us for another time promising us many treasures to explore. I felt Pondicherry is one such place. I get the feeling that I have to go back again. I am sure that being in a place that is home to many seekers and simply breathing in it and trying to understand the visions of Sri Aurobindo and The Mother, the architects of this wonderful Ashram and Auroville would be a gift that I can give to myself and I would like to recommend it to everybody.

Unfortunately, I could not manage enough pictures as I was really pressed for time and the ones I took were those shot from inside the car. Here is one picture of the beach along the Ashram.

Life After Life – Raymond A. Moody

2006-12-30T15:29:00.000+05:30

Life After Life, first published in 1975 is a classic bestseller written by parapsychologist, Raymond A. Moody. The book is based on Dr. Moody’s research on Near Death Experiences popularly known as NDEs. It has given a new direction to the understanding of “death” and inspired the first generation of researchers in the field to create a new science of near-death studies. What happens when we “die”, Is “death” the end of what we call life, What to make of it when our loved ones “pass away”… or do they just “pass on”, What is the basis of the “grief” we feel for our loved ones when they “die” are some of the questions hovering in our minds that find ample scope for an address through Dr. Moody’s path breaking research contained in this book.

The research is based on interviews of more than a 100 people who have been resuscitated after being pronounced clinically dead by their doctors, people who as a result of severe injury or illness have come close to physical death and people who have recounted their experiences as they “died”, to others. These recountings show that something very spiritual happens to us when we “die”. Unfortunately, there is collective denial about the spiritual basis of our existence. Those of us who have experienced NDEs fear being mocked at or dismissed as “mentally ill”. Many a times we do not believe our own selves. The book also mentions “scientific” grounding and the position of “science” on the phenomenon of NDEs which I leave to you to explore from the book. But what I would like to make a passing mention of is The International Association of Near-Death Studies (IANDS) a body with many chapters worldwide, that was formed after Dr. Moody’s research and is dedicated to building global understanding on NDEs.

The narrations made by Dr. Moody’s subjects have among others, one thing in common and that is the awareness of the unique essence of life arising out of their NDEs and I would like to quote from the book, “When we die, our own lives are evaluated and interpreted not according to how much money we made or our statues and prestige but according to the love we shared with others throughout our life.” The other commonality between all is an emphatic positive shift in their lives marked by self-esteem, empathy for others, peace and wholeness. I quote a few more lines, “Our society suffers from our lack of connection to each other and our collective lack of meaning in our lives. Homelessness, depression, drug abuse, alcoholism, road rage and gun violence all have at their roots a lack of spiritual wisdom.” Life After Life has been described as having “reconnected us with a timeless wisdom about death”.

Do we really “die” is a question that has always intrigued me. I have never been able to contain thinking that everything about a person ends when the heart stops beating. What about the memories and the impressions the person leaves behind? Many of us make a conscious attempt to “forget” them; this motivated forgetting really has a lot to do with the way we look at life and “death”. This book has a therapeutic effect – for many its poses a challenge by laying open a subject that has been an explosive topic of debate and for others it gives new directions.

The book has a foreword by Dr. Elizabeth Kubler-Ross, renowned psychiatrist who has worked extensively with terminally ill people and is the author of the landmark book, On Death and Dying. The preface contains an account of the interesting shifts over time towards looking at “death”. It is a must-read for anyone questing for an understanding, a book review hardly does any justice to what the complete research has to convey!

Farewell, by Kahlil Gibran

2006-11-19T13:54:00.000+05:30

Farewell to you and the youth I have
spent with you.

It was but yesterday we met in a dream.

You have sung to me in my aloneness,
and I of your longings have built a tower
in the sky.

But now our sleep has fled and our dream
is over, and it is no longer dawn.

The noontide is upon us and our half
waking has turned to fuller day, and we
must part.

If in the twilight of memory we should
meet once more, we shall speak again to-
gether and you shall sing to me a deeper
song.

And if our hands should meet in another
dream we shall build another tower in the
sky.

WOW, tagged!!

2006-10-29T20:29:00.003+05:30

Ambrosia has been tagged by Sigma! This was the first news that greeted me on Sunday morning. I said – what’s new, Sigma tagged Ambrosia months ago. Little did I realise that I was about to learn the precise meaning of “being tagged” in blog culture. I had vaguely known until today that tagging was about linking another blog with your own on your right hand side panel………… ha ha!! Anyone in the same boat as me?! Let’s find out. I can’t describe what tagging is, but the process below will make it clear I am sure!

Rules of this tag:

1. Name the person who tagged you.

2. 8 things about you.

3. Tag 6 people.

Action Item 1: Name the person who tagged you

I have been tagged by Sigma. I know her through her blogs Idle Thougts and Travel Memoirs. Of course I have never met her in person but my intuition tells me that she is a warm and generous person. I thank her for the unique manner in which she has got me to write on my blog after more than two months of inactivity. Merci.

Action Item 2: 8 things about you

This is interesting, ok here let me try :-)

1) I love giving surprises. Adore it when I get one myself too. Giving and receiving both have a remarkable impact on me, I get charged up creatively and emotionally. Sigma’s tag was a complete surprise! Can I thank you once more……

2) I love visitors, I love being the host. I dream of a house in which the kitchen is the largest room, filled forever with many nice fragrances (I love the smell of baking cake and the aroma of tea) and many, many nice people adding to the energies there. I love to be around with people with open hearts.

3) I love to be in “circulation” and like to communicate with people. I do it in my own way, my own quiet way. I am fundamentally a “shy” person by nature, I am not “loud” enough :-)

4) I like minimal talk and maximum action. I am a compulsive dreamer and I like to test out my dreams in the physical realm.

5) Most people I know feel that I am a difficult, unpredictable being; they are of the opinion that they don’t understand me. Perhaps I can elaborate on that here. There are certain things that leave me cold – they leave a strange impression on my emotions, psyche and senses – crudeness (I try to find aesthetics even in an abuse), meanness (I get an instant impulse to pack up wherever I detect it!), manipulation (I don’t like getting tricked). I am essentially large-hearted but recoil when I feel that I am being taken for a ride. At the same time, I too do manipulate sometimes, but I like to state my intentions.

6) There was a time when I used to spend many neurotic moments worrying and bothering about what people might think about me. Since sometime I feel a markedly stable and a strong energy from within that has made me completely believe that, one, I am a teeny weenie part of a very large scheme of things – that there is much, much more to what we “think” there is; and two, that I would get affected by the standards set by any particular society to the extent I myself believe that they are some kind of “standards”. I don’t care for judgments anymore; it is such a big relief!

7) Following this, I must state that this energy has taught me to not expect anything from anyone in return for any benefit I might have caused them. Because, the acknowledgement may come from elsewhere, and in time – not necessarily from the same person.

8) I have figured out that I have two major callings in life: establish a wellness centre for the upkeep of the emotional/mental health of people and to travel extensively on earth and write about it. For both, I need partner/s in crime. Preferably lifelong.

Action Item 3: Tag 6 people

Oh, my pleasure –

1) Meera – She wrote me a comment within minutes of opening my blog early this year. So she has a very special place in my blogger heart. Also I am in awe of the way she conjures up stories from ordinary day to day life experiences. She too has not written on her blog for over two months now. I wonder about her, I hope she can come back soon. Meera, have you returned from Karachi?

2) Cool Cat – I just went to Cool Cat’s blog to tag her and found that she has also not written for over two months! I love reading her exceedingly well-crafted posts. The last I remember, she had promised a piece on her lovely pet cats. Hmm, coming?

3) Queen B – A few months back, she gave me a pleasant surprise by dropping by at my blog. It is my pleasure to tag her blog, Taraville. This blog is dedicated to her new born daughter, Tara. It has cute pictures and very well written notes about Tara’s explorations and experiences and the joys of motherhood. I hope Queen B can “bottle” more of it in cyberspace :-)

4) Living Tree – She has lots of interesting things to write about, and I am sure if she blogged full time, she would produce a well thought out body of reference material.

5) Pragya – I know her in person and I enjoy reading poetry; so I like reading her poems.

6) Thinking Thinker – Very recently, I discovered that he had put a link to my blog through his. I thank him for this sweet gesture by tagging him.

How nice, I am done! By the end of it all, I learnt one more thing about tagging – that the subject of Action Item 2 varies – in this case it is writing eight things about yourself, in another it may be something else. One can actually trace the origin of this particular tag. It seems that one may also choose to start one’s own thread. Btw, all of you who have been tagged here, please feel free to give it a miss, in case you do not feel upto the mark to pass on the tag and if you do, it, of course, would be great fun :-)

Chao!

Assam - Concluding post

2006-08-27T15:49:00.000+05:30

I want to make the concluding post on my trip to Assam today, it is a long overdue post. I wanted to write much earlier but ran out of inspiration (to write, to blog)! What I say is true, right now I feel a burst of energy. The mind is interesting, I like the way it lacks consistency, and perhaps because it does, we are predisposed to move to newer terrains..... I am digressing now, what I wanted to say in my last post on Assam is a comment on its captivating countryside.

We understand that it is not often that people go on a holiday to Assam, neither did I, it is on a work trip that I went there for and luckily for me, discovered the treasures of Nature on a land so tarred by separatist movements. The basis of these movements has largely been economic – after Independence, a prosperous State had its economic indexes fall rapidly which gave reasons for the formation of militant groups along ethnic lines. The ULFA (United Liberation front of Assam) and the NDFB (National Democratic Front of Bodoland) are two of the most prominent insurgent groups in Assam. The former, whose primary demand is the separate State of Assam, has been classified as a “terrorist” organization by the Government of India and presently, a military offensive is on against it. NDFB, on the other hand has been spearheading a movement for autonomy for the Bodo people by pressing for a separate state for them, called Bodoland. The Bodos are the largest ethnic group in Assam, concentrated mostly in the north-western parts of the State, which includes Kokrajhar and Bongaingaon districts. With a ceasefire declared since 2001 and with the formation of the Bodoland Territorial Council, an autonomous administrative body, there is peace in the area.

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This is what my local host, a Bodo lady, was very keen to communicate: that there is peace now, after nearly two-decades of fear and bloodshed. Perhaps it is difficult to believe it without visiting; but there is no way one can deny that to oneself when one is in the arms of Nature – the pure country breeze gently caressing the skin, the miles after miles of the richest hues of greens and blues, the coconut palms, the betel nut trees, the mighty Brahmaputra river, the fantastic pineapples, the smiling faces of the Bodo women clad in traditional dokhonas and the soft-spoken Bodo men. Driving on the highway between Guwahati to Kokrajhar is a soulful experience – the highway is an outright pleasure (admittedly, I hadn’t imagined that the road would be this good); the bridge over the Brahmapurta river left me spellbound: it seemed to me at that time to be the most harmonious confluence of modern technology and Nature. So taken aback was I that I forgot to stop to click some shots. I will regret that, till I can go back there again. The eateries on the highway is a haven of sorts for fish eaters, especially. I haven’t eaten more delicious fish than this in recent times.

There are no “places to see” as such and even if there is, I could not find out about them in that short period; what leaves me with a delightful aftertaste is the 6-hour drive through Bodoland. Coming to think of it I don’t think any “place to see” if it is there, can stand upto the captivating countryside of this region.

I am fond of maps, so I am pasting one here. I also have the last lot of pictures to share.

hghjgjh

Assam – In search of Assam tea

2006-08-14T09:19:00.000+05:30

Assam tea..... I don’t know about you but I made one great discovery about it: that Assam tea is granular tea and not tea leaves. I had orders to get "Assam tea" :) and that led me to do a market search on it in the little time that I had. It felt somewhat strange that most local people could not give me satisfactory information about where to get samples of “Assam tea" from. I found myself at the State emporiums but the packaging looked stale and made me feel doubtful about the quality of the contents inside. Anyway, I was finally in a huge wholesale market called the “Fancy bazaar” market in Guwahati where there were several wholesale tea dealers. I zeroed down on one dealer with pleasant salesmen who had a world of time to explain and clear my doubts :), I appreciate that. So it turned out in short that it is the granular tea of Assam that is mostly used to prepare tea and for those who like it to have “leaf” flavor - Darjeeling leaf tea is mixed with it in the popular proportion of 80:20 (granular:leaf). I decided that I wanted more flavor than what is “popular” and so made my purchase in the proportion of 70:30. Not that there is no “leaf” tea in Assam, only that it has no particular flavor and the liquor is very weak - I was told.

My search in the wholesale market for tea also led me to the wholesale area for vegetables. Here are some snapshots :).

The ubiquitous carrot. Yet I was delighted to see it. This is the carrot I actually grew up with, in the sense I find the red variety of carrot here in the north more often than this orange one. The orange one has an association with Walt Disney and Brer rabbit in my mind..... some fond childhood memories.

Meet the betel nut alias supari. This is not the hardened supari, it is soft and moist and looks like miniature coconuts, the external covering opens like one too. Many Assamese people like to chew this soft variety of betel nut packed inside betel leaves (paan) after every meal or otherwise.

This is a ghoti lau. Ghoti = pot. Lou is nothing but gourd or lauki in Hindi :)

This “vegetable” is called kachra. I had never seen a kachra before. The vendor informed me that it is to be cooked with aloos. I couldn’t contend with just a picture, so I decided to carry a couple and I did. Well, back home when it was split open to be cooked with aloos, a new experience greeted me: the kachra looked exactly like a melon from inside with seeds and all and even tasted like one! I do not doubt the vendor but I couldn’t adjust my taste – but I love the color of the vegetable or fruit whatever it may be.

The rickshaws in all the places that I went to in Assam had an additional feature and I found that quite interesting. As you can see, it is about the cover over the head of the rickshaw puller. It was raining when I was there and when it was not, the daytime sun was very strong.

And finally this!

Assam - Kamakhya Temple, Guwahati

2006-08-09T03:22:00.000+05:30

I was told to not leave Guwahati without making a trip to the Kamakhya temple. I am generally not to be found within temple grounds but if recommended by significant others or accompanied by them, I do find myself visiting temples, sometimes. Moreover every net search throws up Kamakhya temple in Guwahati as a place to be visited, so I was curious. The temple is built on the Nilachal hills in the western end of the city. It is a pleasant ride uphill, and looking down from the elevation, the city looks lovely!

The Kamakhya Temple

The temple carries an interesting legend behind its inception. It is basically a Parvati temple built in honor of female energy. I found this interesting article explaining the legend.

It did seem to be a very popular temple. There was a long line of devotees queued up to offer their prayers. I especially liked the pigeons who had made the crevices on the pillars of the temple their home. They were casually roosting and occasionally hopping down whenever somebody offered them grains.

As I was looking around, I accidentally entered a portion in the temple that I should have avoided. A single glance made me realize what it was. The area was splashed with blood with a disturbing number of flies. I literally fled. I have never been able to understand how people can secure anything for themselves by sacrificing another life. I am very sure that the Creator does not approve.

Ending on a positive note, I loved these flowers. I saw joba phool (shoeflower, hibiscus) and these small white flowers in abundance after a very long time. Somehow in the northern belt we don’t see them as much; it is marigolds in the temples this side.

Assam - Ferry Ride on the Brahmaputra in Guwahati

2006-08-05T00:15:00.000+05:30

Hi :-) I am just back from a trip to the state of Assam. Although it was a work trip, I did manage to steal in sometime to take pictures and to look around. Here are some pictures and snippets that I would love to share over a few posts. This was my first visit to the state and I was taken in by the beauty of the countryside – there were such beautiful hues of green all around! I also had time to explore a bit of its capital – Guwahati. Here are some pictures of the Brahmaputra river and a ferry ride on it.

The Brahmaputra river flows along the city of Guwahati, in fact, it flows along the entire stretch of Assam state. The river is incredibly vast!

The horizon is dotted with mountains and the sky that day looked absolutely gorgeous.

There are several ghats from where one can take a ferry for a ride in the river. Kachari ghat, Fancy bazzar ghat, Sukreshwar ghat to name a few… I boarded the ferry from Sukreshwar ghat. Adjacent to the ghat is the Sukreshwar park where one can relax while waiting for the ferry.

My ferry was called “Jolporee” (translated “water fairy”). Jolporee took its passengers on an hour ride on the river. The cafeteria on its deck served hot food in the cool refreshing evening. A live band played nice music, they started with “yeh shyam mastani…”

I waited for the sun to set. The sunset promised to be spectacular. I hoped that the clouds would part but that evening the sun never emerged. It set behind the clouds.

Some Odds and Ends

2006-07-22T16:41:00.000+05:30

Blogs are opening here now by the normal route. Phew!!

Today I want to record certain things that have been coming to my consciousness and lingering there in the form of questions, observations made, reflections etc. I am not even trying to slot them, hope it does not sound too odd. And what if it does..... I am going to number them -

1) It is nice to re-connect with people we haven’t had any interactions with over a period of time. I am led to believe that these re-connections happen ONLY when the two persons concerned are ready – when they are convinced that a re-connection would be a progression over their last meeting. Re-connections always somehow happen when both persons are in a state to drop any unpleasantness associated with their past association, and at a stage when the fond memories created together are consolidated and most importantly acknowledged.

2) However, it is not possible to re-connect with everyone we have parted ways with at sometime in the past. We may have parted in bitterness with some people in our lives and over time we may forgive them too, BUT may not like to re-connect with them. In such a situation I wonder how would they ever know that you have forgiven them? Question.

3) I reiterate, re-connections cannot happen with everyone you have parted ways with.

4) Have you ever noticed how if you respond only to the positive characteristics in a person, their negative traits (and we all have them) stop to surface?! Have you ever noticed how people you encourage and appreciate are always happy to meet you..... Have you ever noticed how we too look forward to meeting people who appreciate and encourage us.....

5) I watched a film lately that immersed me after a long time. It is called “Before Sunrise”. It is made in two parts but I think it should have ended at Part I. I do not want to see Part II. I am in love with the idea of timelessness that is portrayed in the film. Two people make an instant connection. They have just a few hours to themselves. They make the best of it. It is time to part. They are heavy hearted to let each other go but they decide to not exchange their whereabouts. BUT they decide to..... well that is the suspense. They should have ended at Part I.

6) I also saw the film Dosar (translated The Companion), directed by Rituporno Ghosh with Konkona SenSharma in the lead. She was there at the screening too. Looking very cute. The film is well made. Lots of humor in the seemingly serious topic of the film: extra-marital relationships. I have not been able to, if I may say holistically understand this. Something tells me there is more to this hyped subject. Ok. One day the spouse meets with an accident in which the woman he is involved with - outside his marriage dies and he suffers serious injuries. This becomes public and his lawfully wedded wife grapples with feelings of hurt, dejection, self-pity, at the same time feelings of rejection for her husband. The film did not convince me (tho it is well-made). If not for the humor and Konkona and direction, it wouldn’t have been watch-able.

7) Have you noticed that the more you give, the more you get back. I mean everything – knowledge, know-how, something material, love. Also have you noticed how the more you give them away, the more you know about those things.

8) Have you realized how you carry a part of each person you meet in your lifetime. “We all take different paths in life, but no matter where we go, we take a little of each other everywhere.” (Tim Mc Graw). I have been using colored pens to write since the past three years, I picked up the habit from a friend of that time, I am no longer in touch but each time I hold one of my pink/green/orange/violet pens to write I am reminded of that person. Except that these days you don’t have much to do with pens, your fingers do it for you, on the keyboard.

Have you realized what a heart-to-heart talk in which you are in a position to share your deepest thoughts of that time with the other can do to you..... I have just done it..... on my blog.

Blogging Blocked in India

2006-07-20T10:11:00.000+05:30

Hi everyone! There is upheaval in the blogging world in India!! Blogger.com along with many other sites has been blocked by the Indian Government. This has been done fearing anti-State activities, especially in the wake of the Mumbai blasts. BUT the repercussion has been quite unacceptable as it has extended to blocking out bloggers. The debate has shifted to curtailing of freedom of speech in a democratic land.

I have not been able to access your blogs since the past few days. It is only sometime back that I learnt one could access blogs through a proxy server which is what I am doing now.

A lot has been written about this matter already by the media and fellow bloggers as well. I would like to paste some links for you here for reference.

Some of the many news reports

Govt cracks down on websites, blogs
http://www.business-standard.com/common/storypage.php?leftnm=lmnu2&subLeft=1&autono=98682&tab=r

Indian bloggers fight government censorship
http://blogs.guardian.co.uk/news/archives/2006/07/19/indian_bloggers
_fight_government_censorship.html

Press Coverage of Internet blocking in India
http://censorship.wikia.com/wiki/Press_Coverage_of_The_Ban

Blogs blocked; is Emergency coming?
http://www.ibnlive.com/news/are-we-heading-towards-emergency--ii/16034-11.html

Some of the many bloggers who have written about the matter

http://traveltalesfromindia/2006/07/what-is-up-with-blogspot-blogger-sites.html

http://whereisvijay.blogspot.com/2006/07/blogspot-blogger-is-banned-in-india.html#comments

http://kalpalata.blogspot.com/

A warm hello

2006-07-14T01:41:00.000+05:30

Hello! I feel good writing on my blog again. It’s been such a long time. Thank you all for your comments and I am sorry I could not write back immediately. The last few weeks were characterized by a flurry of activity. Both inside my mind and external as well. I enjoyed every moment I lived. It has been one of those times where you feel a whole lot but you don’t process your feelings because you don’t feel the need to. You don’t even see what lies ahead of you. Not that you don’t want to, but simply because there is no need. You just allow each moment to unfold itself. The revelations are insightful and that makes you happy. At the back of your mind you know that you have a destiny to fulfill and you just add to the present moment without a thought as to what your actions would fetch you. Quite a blissful state to be in.

This has been a time when I made wonderful new connections, shared joyous moments of re-connecting with old friends, traveled a bit and drew a lot of strength from it, worked a bit, as in for a living :-), read about Osho and Sufism (for the very first time), and now I am reading Life After Life which is Dr. Raymond Moody’s work on the subject (life after life) supported by his research study on NDEs (near death experiences). I am also reading Heinrich Harrer’s, Seven Years in Tibet. I hope to be able to write about each after I am done.

I am also looking forward to reading your blogs, I realize I have missed so much! I have been blog hopping mainly. What has changed you may ask, what has made me come back. Nothing I guess, the feeling of grandeur continues except I guess I am a bit grounded to hold my pen to paper. See you on your blogs soon too!

Unplayed Piano - Damien Rice

2006-05-30T02:20:00.000+05:30

In 2005, Damien Rice, an Irish musician wrote the song “Unplayed Piano” in support of the campaign to free the exiled Burmese leader, Aung San Suu Kyi. It was her 60^th birthday and the 10^th year of her house arrest.

"Come and see me
Sing me to sleep
Come and free me
Hold me if I need to weep
Maybe it's not the season
Maybe it's not the year...."

Aung San Suu Kyi was awarded the Nobel Prize for Peace in 1991 for her non-violent, pro-democracy struggles in Burma. She was placed under house arrest by the military dictatorship of the country without any charges or trial. Her crime: leading a people’s movement for democracy and human rights. Aung San Suu Kyi put the prize money in a trust to improve the health and education levels of the people of Burma.

"Maybe there's no good reason
Why I'm locked up inside
Just cause they wanna hide me
The moon goes bright
The darker they make my night"

She was put under house arrest first in 1989 but was given the offer for freedom if she left the country. She declined. The following year elections were held in Burma and her party won, but the military dictatorship nullified the process. The rest of the world protested but the military held their ground.

"Unplayed pianos
Are often by a window
In a room where nobody loved goes
She sits alone with her silent song
Somebody bring her home"

The period between 1995-2005 saw many ups and downs with her getting released, put on house arrest again and one time she was even imprisoned. She was detained each time for carrying out political activities for freedom which she was barred from. She never left the country for if she did, she would hot have been permitted to return. During this period her husband died in Britain, she could not meet him, he was not allowed entry into Burma and she decided not to leave her country.

"Unplayed piano
Still holds a tune
Lock on the lid
In a stale, stale room
Maybe it's not that easy
Or maybe it's not that hard
Maybe they could release me
Let the people decide
I've got nothing to hide
I've done nothing wrong
So why have I been here so long?"

I make this post today because since the past few days, hopes were building up in favor of her release as her confinement ordered had expired recently. International pressure, urging the military government to review it in her favour went into deaf ears - the dictatorship has extended her confinement term, which is what the news says.

"Unplayed piano
Still holds a tune
Years pass by
In the changing of the moon"

I don’t know what more I can add to this, I really don’t know what more to say. Except that my sleepy brain at nearly 2.30 am in the morning is thinking about how in one part of the world a nation of people continue to struggle for their human rights while here in my own - in one of the largest democracies, politicians prepare grounds to divide people on the basis of caste lines.

I want to thank my friend Amin for bringing to me this wonderful song – unplayed piano. The quoted portions are parts of the song. It has been sung by Damien Rice and Lisa Hannigan.

The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini

2006-05-28T01:20:00.000+05:30

At the beginning of this month something peculiar happened. The internet service provider ran away with his entourage leaving behind woeful customers, I being one of them. On my part I tried to track him down and make him answerable but after a few unsuccessful attempts I gave up and decided to put my energies else where – what else, but at finding a new service provider. At first I felt really sorry to have lost my internet world but soon pulled myself together and decided that this was a fine chance to try and rake up another world. So I read. I finished reading The Kite Runner. It is easily the best book that I have read in the recent past.

Authored by Khaled Hosseini, the narrative is set in Afghanistan
and the US. It is a story about the relationship between two "friends" belonging to two different ethnic communities of Afghanistan - one dominant, the other, marginalised. Their relationship becomes yet more complex because one is the master, the other his “servant”. Not only that, the political milieu adds some more complexities to the relationship. The master is the "hero" of the story because his character simply fulfills what it takes to be a “hero” in a narrative. The character who captures the heart of the reader is undoubtedly Hassan, the Hazara boy, the “servant”. The essence of his being is carried throughout the story. The character of Hassan is immensely moving and it is very easy to respect him and be totally fond of him. I found that I developed a love-hate relationship with the hero of the story! One can’t hate him for too long because of his honesty. Also because of other things, let me elaborate a little later.

It is also a story about the relationship between a father and a son – a father who had rather not want a son the way he (son) was and a son who wanted to win his father’s appreciation, yet not be like him. How and in what direction the relationship changes over time has also been brought forth remarkably well.

At the backdrop of the story, the political situation of Afghanistan moves, chronicling over 30 years till about 2002 - from the last few years of the (40-year old stable) reign of Zahir Shah (that began in 1933) to the internal coup that overthrew him to the Communists and then to the dark period brought about by The Taliban. Some of the story is also based in the US where the father and son had to take political asylum in 1980 following the “Roussi” invasion. A part of the story is also told in retrospect.

My thoughts come back to the hero. I am quite convinced that his character is influenced to some extent by the author’s own. Khaled Hosseini was born in Afghanistan and his family moved to the US in 1980. The hero is a soft-spoken literary sort, quite unlike the typical repulsive “masculine” male. He likes to read poetry, wins every poetry competition, loves to fly kites, loves to write, detests any Afghan sport that has to do with killing and does not retaliate at the neighborhood bullies. The most beautiful aspect of his personality is that even in his childhood, although he notices he is unlike the rough and tough kinds, he is most unwilling to change, he is just so secure with the way he is. At a point in his adulthood he is faced with situations where he has the option to either accept or reject his lady love when questions of her chastity etc. come up. Without any effort at any kind of debate within himself or otherwise, he promptly chooses to be by her side. In doing so he does not regard himself a martyr of sorts; he simply puts it saying that to judge a woman by patriarchal standards is something he was never socialized into – for he was never exposed to the “double standards” of men in his childhood, neither in his youth. His mother died at childbirth and father never married.

The narrative brings forth the sheer craftsmanship of the writer – the language has an irresistible flow – and conveying such complexities in simple language is an art I think and Khaled Hosseini in his debut novel, is a prototype of this thought. The words and phrases in native language finely blend with the English language – another very attractive element of the narrative.

Once begun, it is difficult to put down the book. In that, it has an element of understated mystery. Also it leaves you for some days with very warm thoughts. The Kite Runner is in my list of favorites and recommended reads :-)

When you go away - Bhartrhari

2006-05-26T15:29:00.000+05:30

Am in a poetry mood today. This poem by Bhartrhari is dedicated to all friends.

When you go away

'Do not go' I say; but this is inauspicious.
'All right, go' is a loveless thing to say.
'Stay with me' is imperious. 'Do as you wish' suggests Cold
Indifference. And if I say 'I'll die
when you are gone', you might or might not believe me.
Teach me,
my friend, what I ought to say
When you go away.

(Bhartrhari, a poet from 5th-6th century India)

Trek Pictures

2006-05-17T12:42:00.000+05:30

I realise how much pictures can be valuable and supplement a travel story like never before! Sadly I don't have many, in fact very few. I have uploaded some at my travel blog and I thought I would put up three of them from the trek, here. These are courtsy Iddo.

the flock o' sheep we met on the way. there is a small pool of stagnant water on the right, and many of them took a qucik dip before proceeding!!

the landslide over which we walked...

the waterfall pool!

McLeod Ganj

2006-05-05T12:27:00.000+05:30

Hi everybody! I am back from a fabulous weekend trip to McLeod Ganj :) and that puts me in great spirits! The muscles of my lower limbs are still a bit agitated it seems but my fingers are raring to make a post… I was at McLo for a very short time, there are many things that I did not get to experience personally, yet, I write about them coz I found them interesting and worth sharing about.

A fulfilling trek

Yup, a large part of my trip consisted of trekking! There are a number of trek routes in McLo with varying levels of difficulty in terms of length of time to cover each, the nature of the path and the altitude. I was on a comparatively simple one that was around 12 kilometers covered in around 6 ½ hours and the highest altitude that we could get to was around 2300 meters.

Trek companions

A large part of my travels consists so much of different kinds of people of which I am so glad and grateful. My post will be grossly incomplete without writing about them. Well, I came over to McLo basically to meet my Estonian friend Kristina who has been, since the past one month, volunteering her time to teach English to adult Tibetan refugees in a Tibetan school there and also spending time in a play school with the children of migrant labor. She will be there for another month. Prior to my arrival, we had already decided to do a trek but didn’t know until a few hours before starting off that we would be joined by serious trekkers and some not as much – but all the same, all very lovely people. All the intros and the decision making happened in a café we were visiting the previous evening! So, at the appointed hour and place, seven of us armed with the required necessities met and we set off. The company consisted of Vim from Holland, Iddo from Israel, Heather from the US, Kripa and Bhanu from Mumbai, Kristina and myself. Most of them are volunteers on various social assignments while a few are there to help them relax and make important decisions in life and I guess, overall, all of us come to these serene locales to draw enrichment from it and add some bit of it into our lives.

Back to trekking

The route that we took, I shall call it the “waterfall” route coz it leads to a waterfall at some point after walking for some 2 ½ hours. This particular trek route consists of a concrete road uptil a small distance after which it becomes a trail on the mountains marked by white arrows on the rocks. Innovations can of course be made in the route but we stuck to the arrows. It was immensely exciting for me coz the trail kept changing its character every now and then… rocks covered with algae (over which I slipped once), rocks arranged like a little flight of stairs, a collection of rocks spread over a few meters, sometimes a little stretch of plain land as tho to give a bit of relief, steep and high rocks over which you needed to find a grip etc. At one point we came upon at least a 5 meter stretch of rocks arranged like a carpet that seemed to have landed up there as a result of a landslide. From time to time, we paused to admire the breathtaking scenery from various altitudes. I have never trekked this long over such terrain before and found myself always lagging behind!! But I am so grateful to my companions for their facilitation and, tolerance, of course. Bhanu, the seasoned trekker in the Western Ghats sure did pass on to me some very useful tips which I think I must summarize a little later.

The waterfall

After 2 hours I found myself longing for the waterfall and although we could hear the delicious gurgle of the water, it still seemed nowhere in sight. At last when I found myself sitting besides it, it felt so much like a reward. The water was freezing cold but there, of course, were people taking a few-second dips from head to toe! The waterfall is just like any other beautiful waterfall that we have seen in pictures and visited perhaps; it is the sheer physical experience of being so close to one of the grandest creations of nature that makes the feeling so special and alluring. It brought to my consciousness that there are such large forces at work and that my own existence is like a speck in the large scheme of things and even though such a small responsibility – at times it gets difficult to handle! It made me feel a trifle ashamed of myself and I felt glad that I was there absorbing some goodies from the bounties of nature – at least I would like to think so.

Back to the waterfall, on either side of the stream made by it, there is enuff room to set up tents and make an overnight halt – done on a full moon – well, aha! The very thought makes me crazy. Another interesting thing was this naturally made “landing” a meter above the stream on which there is a small tea shack. Upon our request, the owner of the stall gladly agreed to serve us “chai” where we had made ourselves comfortable on the rocks along the stream with the waterfall behind. This was pure bliss. Grandiose. The waterfall was like the climax.

Soon it was time for the decent. This was as nice as the first part of the trek except that at McLo, with barely five minutes to go before we could hit a restaurant for food, I got bitten by some leaves on my fingers when I accidentally held them for balance. These are plants on most of either side of the trail which sting like a wasp can do, when touched. The quickest way to get over the sting sensation (which is a pretty nasty one) is to leave that part of the body alone or at the most pour water over it and let it be. Scratching can make it get very bad. Anyways, half an hour later when we were sitting in the restaurant, I found myself using the stung fingers like nothing had happened.

Meditation walk

I must write about this wonderful principle because I tried it out in this trek. Meditation walk is derived from the greater spiritual traditions of “meditation” which simply means to be in a state of awareness by cutting down on the noise and chatter in the brain. By that measure, in easy terms, it means to not think about things and people and elements of life that you are not with at that moment and be able to appreciate your “present” surroundings and its constituents. This means that I am to put my entire concentration on my path, take every step in awareness and look around me and be in an attitude of gratitude. It also means that the only voices I let myself hear and react to is that of nature and those of my immediate companions. Looking at it from the other end, it also means that now that I am back to a completely different world, I should be able to take in that what is beneficial for me from it and sieve out the rest without any ado. In other words, not “miss” anything but find the balance between dichotomous worlds, thoughts and feelings – that is the way to spiritual empowerment, I think.

Some tips!

I thought it would be useful to put down some useful tips for trekking that I gathered and remember now!
1) To make walking less strenuous, always walk with a straight spine so as to distribute the weight of the body on either side.
2) To avoid scratches, blisters and plant bites, wearing covered walking shoes and full length pants helps.
3) Keeping water and instant energy givers like hard boiled toffees, chocolate bars, glucose biscuits etc. is extremely useful.
4) In order to avoid painful nails, clip them before a trek – long ones dig into the fabric of the shoes due to the continuous walk and can get very uncomfortable.
5) In order to climb steep and high rocks, use your hands to make a grip wherever there is a possibility on the rock to hold it at any place (I do not know what to do about the smooth ones :(

Well, the trek makes me want to go on more similar ones and challenging ones in the near future! I enjoyed it thoroughly.

McLeod Ganj in two days

This section will pretty much be a gist of my short visit. I arrived at McLo one afternoon and was especially happy to see Kristina at the bus stop waiting at the appointed hour. Soon we were sitting on a terrace café at a Tibetan restaurant surrounded on all sides by mountains, sipping chai, eating huge portions of noodles and chatting away. So, many of the things that I write has been simply gathered from conversations.

McLeod Ganj, in terms of geography, is in the state of Himachal Pradesh in North India. Situated in the foothills of the Himalayas, it used to be a garrison of the British before independence. A large section of its present population consists of refugees from Tibet, many of who are monks and they have helped to develop this small settlement into a spiritually advanced place. McLo also houses the secretariat of the Tibetan government in exile (politics a little later) and is the home of The Dalai Lama. The prevalence of a Buddhist way of life makes McLo a very spiritual place and makes many people from all over the globe come to visit it in search of peace.

There does not seem to be any dearth of accommodation as hotels are in plentiful. In addition to that, single room sets are available on rent for long-staying travelers who choose to have an independent unit. The only time that McLo gets really crowded and jampacked as I gathered from the Rough Guide, is during Feb./Mar. at the time of the Tibetan New Year.

The cultural life of the little settlement is quite enviable. Some of the cafes and restaurants have a programme of songs, spontaneous performances, discussions etc. on a weekly basis. It was in a restaurant called “Khana Nirvana” that we enlarged our trekking troupe over a live performance of flute, violin and vocals. There are two lines of one song sung that night by an Israeli performer that lingers in my mind. It goes:

“Mama I’m off to India,
don’t worry I won’t catch bacteria”. (!!!!!)

On Jogibara Road, there are at least four “cinemas” that hold fours screenings each day of different films and documentaries – which from the list seemed to be issue-based documentaries, critically acclaimed films and bestseller entertainers. Among the Indian movies, Water and Raang De Basanti are very popular at this time. We watched a documentary called, “Escape from Tibet”. The “cinemas” are pretty interesting in the way they have been assembled – the screen is usually a flat home theatre system or a projector screen. At least 20 people can watch at a time. The “cinemas” are attached to restaurants, so one can have meals served right there watching a movie! Everything is great except that they never start and therefore never end the screenings on time. But given that one is not in a mad metro, the time lag only gives you the scope to catch another glass of chai over another interesting conversation and nothing is really lost.

At the lovely Buddhist temple in the little settlement is “staged” a discussion of the readings from Buddhist texts, every afternoon (except Sundays) for an hour. In addition to the verbal discussions in their language, the monks act it out theatretically. I am sure that would be interesting but I never managed to see it. Besides, McLo seemed to be always pasted with posters containing information on courses on acupressure, massage therapy, Hindi speaking, English speaking, Tibetan cooking, Buddhist studies, music, reiki etc. etc. etc. There is a public library, several book and video stores, lots of internet cafes and a museum as well.

With respect to food, McLo has no dearth of variety. While Tibetan food dominates and feels quite light and nice, I also saw French, Japanese and Israeli joints as well. The Tibetan bakery products are scrumptious and Kristina highly recommends the carrot cake, the apple pie in custard and the brownies (the brownies in chocolate sauce are “awesome” ;-) They were indeed yummy and full of calories – I am safely assuming that the spirituality of the place converts the calories into positive body food.

The Tibetan refugees

As most are aware, since China annexed Tibet in 1950 in a one-sided aggression, the country and its people have seen very bad times. Many countries in the world still do not recognize Tibet as an independent nation under foreign rule. International pressure is not too strong enough to get the Chinese government to withdraw from Tibet soil. About 3000 refugees cross over to India every year walking for 12 days over very difficult terrain. Many lose their lives, yet they come. The documentary that we saw had been made in 1994 and according to it, it used to take at least 30 days to make the journey more than a decade ago. But now-a-days there are guides. The refugees first halt at Nepal for a registration which is done by the UNHCR office set up in Katmandu. Nepal does not recognize Tibet as a separate nation, India does and refugees with the papers made in Katmandu are allowed to enter India. They find their way to New Delhi and most come up to McLo where they spend some time before figuring out what they want to do with their lives. Upon their arrival at McLo, they are addressed by The Dalai Lama who in an inspiring speech congratulates them at having made the arduous journey possible and welcomes them to Indian soil. Further, he tells them that they are among the lucky few to have got this opportunity and they must use their time in India to educate themselves and/but always be in a state of readiness to go back to their homeland as Tibet needs an educated mass of citizens to put fuel in its struggle for independence. Many have gone back too, the Tibetan population in McLo has come down considerably from several thousands over the years to about 2500 as of now. On this score, I felt really proud of my country that it has be able to provide this space and succor to a community of people made helpless by mindless violence and greed.

Many who come when they were children are adults now, they haven’t seen their parents and family for over decades, they are not sure if they would. Letters sent do not reach. Parents who send their little children every year with the guides do not send them with the hope of meeting them again. They are always prepared for the worst.

World pressure on China to free Tibet is rather mild despite the atrocities committed. According to the documentary, as per 1994 figures, the Chinese soldiers had already killed 80,000 monks and destroyed age old monasteries (reminds us of the Taliban and their destruction of the Bamiyan Buddha). Many have been taken as prisoners of conscience and as political prisoners. The monks come under the former category. The Panchen Lama and his family have been kidnapped and hidden and it is now eleven years since the kidnapping. His 17th birthday was celebrated recently. One of the monks who smuggled into India samples of the torture weapons used by the Chinese on the prisoners, speaks volumes about the cruelty and meanness of the human race. It is so outrageously shameful that actually anyone can use those weapons on another made so helpless, that the assault goes unchallenged. Grossly unfair and barbaric.

The Buddhist temples and Tibetan homes are decorated with colorful prayer flags. These are like A4 size pieces of cloth on which is printed their prayers and these are clipped to a string and tied all over. It is believed that the wind will carry the prayers far and wide. The prayer wheel has the same philosophy. They are cylindrical in shape with the prayers written on them and they can be rotated. Some of Kristina’s students are learning English so that they are able to translate these prayers and make them available to a much larger extent. When The Dalai Lama is not attending political meetings outside McLeod Ganj, he holds prayer meetings and discussions which are very popular and anybody can attend. I did not get lucky on that score.

Charitable and development activities

A little way off on the outskirts of McLo is a jhuggi (slum) cluster of about 300 people. They are migrants from the state of Maharashtra and Rajasthan. They have camped there in search of livelihood despite unfamiliar mountainous weather that gets particularly harsh during the monsoons and the winters. They live in tents and in most unhygienic conditions. A Scottish organization has just begun working with them. A demographic profiling is on, at the same time the children are being provided education and a medical facility has been organized to provide free medical care. Besides, there is the Dogga School which from time to time requires volunteers.

An Israeli village

On the outskirts of little McLeod Ganj is a village called Dharmkot. It is a small village consisting of a young population from Israel. I would have loved to have gone to the village but from what I gathered, this is a place used as a retreat by young Israelis before them moving on. There is no particular reason why they go there, except that they go to many other places and this being a nice one – someone must have come and others may have followed. At least that is what I understood of the situation as of now!

Getting to McLeod Ganj

Either one can take a train from Delhi upto Pathankot and from there a bus till McLo or a direct overnight bus from Delhi till McLo. I did the former as I am not comfortable traveling overnight in a bus when I am alone. It took me around 16 hours. If this option is taken, it would be useful to look around for trains that start from Delhi, this way one can be sure that the train would arrive and leave on time. Usually such trains leave the Old Delhi railway station by 9:30 pm and reach Pathankot by 8:30 am the following day. Alighting at Pathankot, one has the option of freshening up at the waiting rooms on platform no. 1 and catch a hot breakfast at the railway restaurant down the same platform. The Himachal Pradesh bus station is just outside platform no. 1 and busses are available at frequent intervals. It is a 4 ½ hours journey by bus to McLo with one halt for refreshments.

Straight busses from Delhi are available from ISBT and one has the choice of the Volvo, a super comfortable bus and the ordinary. The travel time is a bit shorter.

Wrapping up…

I am definitely inspired by life at McLeod Ganj. There is this one and only chowk there – always a place of activity, where the busses stop, you can sit there and over any length of time you would know how many people have come to McLo and who they are and how many are leaving and who they are. Being in a place like India, yet, you can smile back at strangers who smile at you without any apprehensions, you can walk on the streets without any unwanted attention, you can have chai at low ceiling tea shacks with the words “Best Tea in Asia” written on the benches, these chai shacks recreate your college and university days, you don’t have to be in your best clothes or look prim and proper, no one is in a hurry to want you to leave the café, you can start appreciating and understanding the spiritual approach to politics, you can bask in the glory of nature all around you, gaze at the mountains that change color at least twenty times in the day… a wholesome life packed into a few kilometers of space – that is what is my impression of McLeod Ganj.

Ps: I am awaiting pictures from Iddo and Kristina, will put up some here when I receive them.
I now have another blog solely for travel experiences at whereareyou.net. I am inaugurating it with this experience – the account is pretty much the same. The address is http://wanderlust.whereareyou.net/

Staying Connected

2006-04-27T01:41:00.000+05:30

Staying Connected

It is interesting to note how so many people are unsatisfied and unhappy in their lives despite having taken the “right” steps and “right” decisions in the “right” directions. “Interesting” is probably not the right word to use, but honestly it does inspire an interest in me.

“Something is missing”, a friend informed me the other day. The friend is a “successful” professional and has made considerable material gains in life. Besides, I get calls from time to time – “something is missing”, they all say, 9 out of 10 are “doing well”.

I feel sorry and sad that so many people are caught in a rigmarole and take a lot of stress trying to live upto role expectations. The tendency is always to conform to some dominant principle. Who made these hideously inadequate principles of social, personal and professional conduct? Are not the parameters for being “successful” and “doing well” killing our spirits and making us similar to programmed gadgets? Are we even enjoying the limitless bounties that the Universe has to offer to us? Often, at corporate trainings I have heard managers speaking on motivation modules inspiring the workers to “think out of the box”. I think it is a wonderful way to operate, how about applying the principle to life in general?

There is a definite clash between the heart and the intellect. In an ideal situation, they must complement each other. But the problem arises when the intellect denies the heart and either contradicts or refuses to listen to its rhythm. I am convinced that all of us have the answers within ourselves. We use so little of our power as human beings!

I have decided that I need to go for a recharge.... think it is time to seek some inspiration.

Kamini Banga

2006-04-24T22:11:00.000+05:30

I have just finished a large chunk of some work that I had set myself to do and I am feeling glad about it. So after a week, I am feeling psychologically free to make a new post.

Well, in the meantime, I also finished reading a book which is a collection of poems and I so much want to write about it and more so of my feelings about the person who has composed the poems. All the poems in the collection have been written by Kamini Banga. I quote the last poem in the collection on page 97 –

You promised to love me
And look after me.

Promises broken
Bodies punished.

You could have given me
Another chance.

Was this invasion
My second chance?

Thank you,
I promise
To be a good girl, God.

The collection is entitled, “I Promise To Be A Good Girl, God.”

Kamini Banga is someone who has fought and won a battle with cancer which carried on for 10 years. Her immensely moving fight is reflected in these poems which she had been writing during the course of those years. Kamini feels that writing helped her to grieve as well as to heal. It put things in perspective thereby helping her to "realize what must stay" and what she could "leave behind".

What I like about her poems is her simple and very direct style – with each line so well crafted. At any juncture in her therapy, the import of her thoughts and feelings – be it that of defiance or jubilation or distress or despair or surrender or reflection or fear or fight or healing or protest or hope and many a times interspersed with humor – has been brought forth remarkably well in a way that touches the heart.

The other thing that I find wonderful is that the writings, in projecting a vast canvas of emotions suggest a movement as one turns each page and goes to the next. It almost feels like a story – that of a victor. In that, the collection transcends beyond it just being a collection of poetry by a person having survived cancer. I am left with a sense of calm and peace after the reading. It just makes me feel more comfortable with the inevitability of “death” and how useless it is to put any energy that will not add anything positive to the Universe.

I wish Kamini Banga would write more often as she has indicated that she would, in this collection. She looks beautiful with her lovely expressive eyes.

I leave with some notes…

Repetitions Galore

2006-04-17T02:59:00.000+05:30

Recently I was at a seminar and one of the speakers there was this young guy speaking on the practice of witch hunting in one of the states in India. No, my post is not about witch hunting today :). Wait a bit! The young researcher was presenting his paper which was well written and researched and all of that but while he spoke, he uttered the word “basically” much too often, say one at the beginning, two in the middle and one more at the end of every sentence...

Well, that is what my post all about. Honestly, I was hunting for his “basically”s more than being able to pursue the content of his presentation. Now, I know that a lot of us repeat certain words and phrases when we speak but I express my grudges here only against those who indulge in public-speaking.

And the only reason that I do it is, that often I find myself having to put in hours and hours of concentration into listening to public speakers. The cells of my brain shriek in revolt but the good girl that I am, I smile and keep a brave face. But now having discovered the power of the blog, I do not hesitate – Repetitions galore! Repetitions (by the speaker), I find can be of two types: one, as I have mentioned above and the second type is repeating ideas, thoughts, viewpoints and factual information that the speaker wants to convey. Such speakers leave you with enough time to doze off and come back in time to catch the next line of thought.

Why must one be under a compulsive habit to repeat when on stage? In the former case I suspect, it is basically (smile) a lack of organization (in deciding the flow and content of the presentation) which manifests into such kinds of compulsive utterances. On the exterior it is interpreted as a lack of sensitivity towards the audience. Among the second type of speakers – the conscientious ones want to make sure that you have not missed the point while the vagrant among them simply love hearing their own voices. For example, one speaker at the same seminar spent at least half an hour explaining to a distinguished veteran group in the audience as to how important the work that they do is. An indisputable fact was harped upon which vexed many, no end.

Also what I find alarming is that most do not take the time limit seriously and where they appear to have any regards for it, be warned, they are only paying lip service. Our young friend mentioned at the beginning of the post, even usurped the role of the chairperson of the session and allotted himself extra minutes with due permission from the audience of course! Wow! Everyone in the audience was like me – good girls! Further, there are some who can be a combo of both types. In that jumble of words doing somersaults in your brain and your face holding back your emotions – you can easily qualify to be one of the most wretched creatures on earth.

Is there anything called the rights of the captive audience... just wondering, if there is, I would like to plead my case under it. Do I qualify as a “captive audience”?

PS: I always like to ensure my place nearest to the door.

Addendum
This long over due post (nonetheless important to get out from my system) I make, with due regards to all public speakers of this world.

Random Thoughts

2006-04-13T01:57:00.000+05:30

Another storey got added to the multi storey building in front of my house today. Little by little the sun is getting hidden behind it and I wonder if my balcony would be as glorious a place to spend the day time in by the next winter season. I saw the huge banyan tree in front of my house get converted to timber to make place for the multi storey. It was an extremely painful thing to see. For a few days I could not look at the tree straight because I was ashamed that I could do nothing to stop the destruction. I see the labors work day and night with cement, mortar, bricks and iron. They live in a slum across the street and in another just besides my house. As I type, I can hear their muffled voices in the field behind – they want to finish answering nature’s calls in the darkness – the flat owners around are annoyed to see them in the daytime. They are all migrant labors – either their land has dried up back home in their villages or they are landless or the market pulls them to this urban squalor.

Not one, there are 20 multi storey apartment blocks being built within a radius of a kilometer. I am concerned – how much of the airplanes will I be able to see in a few months from now...

As you drive up from Delhi to Gurgaon, the landscape is dotted with a large number of clusters of tall buildings. In the night one can tell that the occupancy of these apartment buildings is not much. I was inquisitive, so I asked and I was told that they “do” belong to someone but then that person already has some five apartments in various other places, and when he gets good rent this one would be let out... “Hmm interesting”, I said. Except in reality, I did not find the situation as interesting, it was revolting.

The much touted malls make quite a spectacle with the caked glitter. I mean why do these newspaper supplements go on week after week taking interviews of Gurgaon(ites) about how much the malls mean to them... like they would ask on mother’s day (whenever that is), how much does your mother mean to you... these days they pick young college goers to answer their questions and some lucky ones even get their photos profiled along with their responses. Hmmmmmph, nobody asked me, I have been to the malls thrice (these are "random" thoughts, remember... do not expect symmetry...). All said and done, the supplements don’t interest me anymore :(

Further along, there are these modern buildings scattered here and there, I was helped into understanding that they are “call centers”. Oh now I know I thought to myself where all those daintily clad young women who hop into tata sumos at the dead of the night every(night) finally land up in. Someone who I had met in the passing had told me how she had to learn to speak with an American accent. I had wondered, so it has come to this! She also told me how many young girls and boys have gone part time in college to earn the extra cash. I wonder if they would ever have time to read “To Kill a Mocking Bird” in their lives. I wonder.

Maple Street, Rosewood Towne, Mayfield Garden, Wembley Estate, Beverly Park, Oakwood Estate, Georgian Residency, Olive Apartments...... oh well! These are just a few names of the countless new constructions that have been built in the span of the last 10 years or are in the process of being built. Notice the similarity – everything “Hinglish” and now “Amrican” sells! This takes the cake – the lane behind my house is called Oxford Street... I went to supervise... (I have never been to Oxford by the way)... it was nothing spectacular.

I am not going to do any intellectual theorizing – I am simply not good at it but I know that similar things are happening to many cities in India and elsewhere. And I know it does not make my heart soar. I know that the globalization of this century is slowly burying our souls. I know it is programming our minds with its unique codes, and it has begun by silencing our inner voices...

Anyhow, not entirely. It will never be able to cause a permanent damage. That I have faith in. There is a group I have come across who without making any ado simply believe in the fact that hunger and poverty is not necessary in the world and they follow up their belief by feeding people who have no roof over their heads. They also do it as a means of protest against the unequal distribution of food. They call themselves, “Food not Bombs”. They have a website, so I won’t write anymore.

Beginning from today we celebrate the regional New Years in India. Pongal is celebrated in the South and South-West India, Baisakhi in the States of Punjab and Haryana and Poila Boishak in Bengal (East). I wish an auspicious beginning to the New Year and much cheer and happiness the entire year through to all my visitors and to my Bong friends – here’s to delicious pulis and pithaes :) :) :)

Yellow... 1,2,3

2006-04-11T21:04:00.001+05:30

Today no writing, only pictures :). I am most inspired by Meera and her gorgeous yellow flower… I am also inspired by the remembrances of spring that just went by… I am inspired by the color yellow, it is the color that symbolizes “awakening”. My talented friend L keeps me on a feed of lovely photos each time I complain that I am bored. Yesterday was her birthday, I am going to dig into my archives and... here are two of her lovely flowery pics. And this page I dedicate to L. And thank you Meera for the inspiration!

"Yellow Tree"

"Yellow Beauty"

Protests in the Air - II

2006-04-09T20:22:00.000+05:30

Thailand
The great news as you may already know is that the problematic Prime Minister of Thailand, Thaksin has finally resigned following the mass protests that carried on for over 6 months and intensified in the last three weeks. In a last ditch attempt to save his position, Thaksin had called for snap polls on the 2nd of this month. The polls were boycotted by the opposition while a large number of people cast blank votes! After consultations with the King, Thaksin gave his resignation on the 4th, thus ending the political drama and his own regime. He had taken democracy for a ride.

The manner in which the people carried out the protests is exemplary – peaceful and purposeful. Constantly guided by their leaders from the civil society itself, they never turned violent, thus writing off all opinions from the skeptics that letting the people to exert their power can turn the situation into an anarchic one!!

The citizens of Thailand must be feeling really proud of themselves, for, their patience and perseverance has paid off, this must give them a lovely feeling of well being!

Long live people power! Isn’t power that is used to deconstruct something only to reconstruct it back such that it serves the larger interests of the society called empowerment…

Hispanics/Latinos
Something else, similar in spirit is happening in another part of the world. My dear friend C is very enthusiastic about it and I share the enthusiasm wholeheartedly. Recently, an immigration bill was presented in the US Senate which when enforced was to “criminalize illegal aliens and those who aid them”. The United States is home to around 33 million people of *Hispanic origin. Hence, this is a very big jolt for a large section of the population. Hundreds of thousands of people have been protesting against this immigration legislation nationally, since sometime now. The protests have been hugely successful and tomorrow, the 10th of April, in a historical turn, 1 million people from the Hispanic/Latino communities as well as people who are against the bill in general will unite to participate in a mega march in 65 cities across the US.

Further more, on the first of May, a call has been given to participate in “A Day Without Latinos” where no person of Hispanic origin will engage in any social or economic activity. Even children will not go to school.

A nation of Hispanics to unite on single day.

More power to the people!

*Hispanic: Persons of Mexican, Puerto Rican, Cuban, Central or South American, or other Spanish culture or origin.

France
In what I gather from my aunt SGB and the Time magazine, a series of protests are taking place all over France. In the last few weeks, 3 million students and other unemployed people demonstrated all over France demanding from the Government to roll back the law that it was about to implement which would authorize the employers to fix the probation period at 2 years (for young candidates on their first job) within which they may fire the employee, when they want, without having to show cause. SGB writes, “It does translate the anxiety of the youth facing the perspective of globalised economy, which needs its ‘slaves’ and which would make them exist by virtue of the job (chakri, as it was termed by the Bengalis desiring to serve the English in the early period of the colonial rule) and the money it would bring; the system would finally make them crave for that kind of slavery.”

I wish that these young people are successful in paving the way for alternatives.

Protests in Delhi
Braving the hot weather, many people have been demonstrating for over three weeks now in Delhi to protest the height of the Sardar Sarovar Dam from being raised. The dam will affect the states of Gujarat, Madhya Pradesh and Maharashtra. The protestors argue that the increase in the height will displace around 35,000 families and destroy their habitat and means of livelihood. This is also in light of the fact that the people who have been similarly affected by the displacement at the present height of the dam have still not been rehabilitated.

What are our politicians doing?!! Seems they are playing their usual game of vote bank politics (the Governments at the State and Centre are not the same in Gujarat and Madhya Pradesh) or they only care for the mega bucks that naturally follow huge development projects and not the lives of the common citizens. Such a disghusting situation!!

An online petition is being signed by the crusaders of just development all over the world, if you are one to uphold the cause, then do take a few minutes to read and sign it. It does not matter if you are not Indian or do not live in India.

I am sure other protests are also happening in other parts of the world. Please feel free to contribute if you know of any.
Ta ta friends, will come back soon.

LimeWire

2006-04-06T03:08:00.002+05:30

Nope, this isn’t a spelling mistake. I indeed meant Limewire. This is what keeps me from making posts on my blog sooner... psssstttt (at different points of time I have different scapegoats:)

Well, Limewire is all about music. About music download to be precise. It is a wonderful music download software. What I like about Limewire and I want to share my feelings is that it works on the system of music exchange or sharing between the hundreds of users logged on to it at any given point of time. If I wish to share my MP3s, all I got to do is store them in a particular “shared” folder on the D drive. When I am logged in, my resources can be drawn by other users as I can draw from theirs.

It has a great search engine, so different kinds of music is searchable by the title song, singer, genre and the album. Videos can be searched by the same procedure. Download is pleasantly fast.

Hmmmm, viruses? Well, I have been using it for a while and my machine is quite healthy.

Limewire is a serious music download site. Here you go - limewire.com. The software needs to be downloaded from this link and installed first.

I still have'nt been able to figure out how to load MPs on my blog from my machine :( But yes I managed to spruce it up with some music from the net. Here’s Eric Clapton’s, “Tears in Heaven”....

Enjoy browsing as you listen to the music…. oops are your speakers on....

Just a random photo ---

Computer graphics or real?

Buskers and Busking

2006-04-01T14:24:00.000+05:30

A friend recently told me that he is a part-time “busker”.

“Busker”, I said, “what is that?”

It is an interesting concept and I followed up with some research on the internet. The dictionary says it is a noun that describes “a person who entertains people for money in public places (as by singing or dancing)”. In another site it is mentioned that the origins of the word is from the Middle Spanish word, “buskar” meaning to “seek or to wander”. Knowing my friend, it is this latter description that fits perfectly!

So basically buskers are street side performers – they may be singing, dancing, acting, painting, sculpting, basically entertaining people passing by or a particular community of people for any particular reason like I have heard of people singing besides the camps of the people affected by the Tsunami to bring some measure of cheer into their lives. Singing and listening to good music has a therapeutic effect, we all know that.

But what surprised me was that busking in some societies is “illegal”. Many big cities in the world have banned it. Can such spontaneous expressions of creativity become a law and order problem, I wonder? No wonder we don’t see buskers around.

Coming to think about it now, here in North India at least we often encounter children and adult men in public transport systems who break into songs, often religious ones or who perform some small craft like jugglery and then pass around a vessel to collect money. They are often from lower economic backgrounds. I wonder if this can be called busking as well?

I also found out that busking is an “ancient” way of living. It has quite a history. Anybody interested in the history can check out here. The writer of this site says something that I thought I must quote, “So the next time you see street performers, carrying on the great and ancient occupation of busking, remember the history they carry, and the risk involved, and remember to toss a buck or two their way.”

Well, my friend and his troupe :) are great fans of Bob Dylan and Neil Young, the legendary singers and songwriters who have been buskers themselves. They sing and play the guitar on the streets of Kula Lumpur and entertain people with classic pieces like “Like a Rolling Stone”, “Forever Young”, “Helpless”, “Heart of Gold” etc. etc.

I have been trying to see if I could upload the mp3 of “Forever Young” and “Heart of Gold” here. The lyrics are beautiful. I came across something called the audioblogger that took me to some unknown territory but without really providing a solution. So I give up (for now). In any case if that does not work, I have come across this wonderful music download software and I will share about it soon.

Anyway the lyrics for now –

Forever Young
May god bless and keep you always
May your wishes all come true
May you always do for others
And let others do for you
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung
May you stayyyyy forever young
Forever young forever young
May you stay forever young

May you grow up to be righteous
May you grow up to be true
May you always know the truth and see the lights surrounding you
May you always be courageous
Stand upright and be strong
May you stay forever young
Forever young forever young
May you stay forever young

May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation when the winds of change shift
May your heart always be joyful
May your song always be sung
May you stay forever young
Forever young forever young
May you stay forever young

Heart of Gold
I want to live,
I want to give
I’ve been a miner for a heart of gold.
It’s these expressions I never give
That keep me searching for a heart of gold
And I’m getting old.
Keeps me searching for a heart of gold
And I’m getting old.

I’ve been to hollywood
I’ve been to redwood
I crossed the ocean for a heart of gold
I’ve been in my mind, it’s such a fine line
That keeps me searching for a heart of gold
And I’m getting old.

Keeps me searching for a heart of gold
And I’m getting old.
Keep me searching for a heart of gold
You keep me searching for a heart of gold
And I’m getting old.
I’ve been a miner for a heart of gold.

Estonia

2006-03-30T01:37:00.001+05:30

Why suddenly Estonia? :-) Well, I had a visitor at my home from Estonia who left yesterday. She told me that most people she has met do not know about the existence of her country. She sure did add on to my knowledge of world geography. Without sounding complicated, let me see what I remember.

For starters I found this great explanatory map. You can click on it for an enlarged view.

So this little country is on the northern tip of Europe. Estonia was part of the former Soviet Union and when it disintegrated in 1991, Estonia alongwith two other countries got back their independent status. Back, because Estonia, Lithuania and Latvia had always been part of Europe before they were annexed and brought under the Soviet Union. Estonia is also a member of the European Union.

It is a peaceful little country, with 1/3 rd of its population living in the capital, Tallinn. However, not entirely peaceful. Although in many ways, independence is being enjoyed by the people, yet with the end of the communist regime, many people have become homeless and live on the streets. My friend says that many men have lost their jobs, taken to alcoholism, and therefore a lot of households are headed by women. The life expectancy ratio of women is more than men, by at least ten years.

Not to mention the under currants of ethnic strife. Estonia shares its borders with Russia. About 30% of the population constitute of Russian speakers who have been living in Estonia before 1991. Many of these people do not have citizenship of any country! After 1991, those who could speak the Estonian language (who included the original Estonians of course and some Russians) were given Estonian citizenship. But Russian people who are old do not have the capacity to learn the Estonian language and pass a test in order to get the citizenship of Estonia. They do not want to move to Russia as they have been there all along. So many people are deprived of citizenship rights. The State of Estonia has its reasons for not awarding citizenship to non-Estonian speakers as they do not wish that the Parliament should at any point of time get dominated by Russian speakers.

The world with its myriad made problems... is it as simple as that? On one level yes, on another level no. Yes it is simple because the politics is so clear – it repeats everywhere in the world with an amazing resemblance in the pattern (have'nt we heard the expression "ethnic strife" much too often), well no, because I wonder how long the wait would be before all people in this world can have a basic minimum for living. I wonder when there would be no borders and boundaries in the minds. I also wonder when money would lose all the sinful power it weilds.

Anyway, I wonder why I have to remember the depressing elements of everything. Do I? I don’t know why. Except that they are not depressing for me. I am consumed by the lovely picture book my guest presented. It is called “Eestimaa” (that is how Estonia is pronounced in the Estonian language) by Ann Tenno.

Even then I must look at the old structures in Tallinn which remind me so much of the ones I have seen in the World War II movies and I must think what must have gone on there during that time…

Also I am in a reflective mood today.

Meeto

2006-03-25T01:24:00.000+05:30

Isn’t she beautiful... she is Kamla di’s daughter, Meeto. Meeto “passed away” in Oxford on the 6th of January, two months ago. You know, I have never met her, only seen her from a distance at various gatherings. Yet I feel I know her enough to make a post in her honor. I have known her in these last two months through her mother’s eyes and through the eyes of her close friends, of not-so-close-friends, of well wishers, of people who attended to her, her teachers and every other person who came in touch with her. So I have come to know her through the many letters, poems and the heart felt pieces of writing especially composed by people speaking of their love and admiration for her. The volume and the content of the communications have been just too overwhelming. They seem to come from an unbounded reservoir of love and compassion somewhere in the Universe.

At different points of time I have paused and thought, what do we give that becomes so special, for others, to others, such that we are remembered in the most extraordinary way after we have left our space in the physical realm? What is it that we send out, such that what is received becomes a treasure for people who know us…

Meeto seems to have left some clues for us here. Everyone has spoken about her compassionate nature and about her generosity and humility. For love it is said, “If you choose more love in your life, cause another to have more love in theirs.” For many people Meeto has known closely, she made herself available in their happiness, pain, confusion – the mark of a true friend. In giving, she achieved the highest refinement of love: Compassion. Generosity is a part and parcel of compassion. Perhaps Meeto knew the Divine Law – that resources, be it material, emotional, intellectual – do not diminish when you share them – coz the Universe takes care of you and it gives you back what you give to it – to nurture it, to help it grow and make it a beautiful place. Kamla tells us about how Meeto used to brush aside compliments… all at 27 years, she had so much to give.

Needless to say, Meeto has been a brilliant student, her Oxford credentials say it all. But I somehow think that we are remembered in special ways for the quality we are able to add to life and to this existence through our behaviors and the way we relate to others more than our academic laurels or any other measure for that matter.

I find the connection between Kamla and Meeto quite wondrous. Kamla has always believed that every person who knew Meeto - all of her friends, all of Meeto’s friends, family, colleagues, friendly strangers, and the people who tended to her – had something to contribute to her growth and development and towards making Meeto what she is. She believes that Meeto absorbed the Goodness into herself from every other person who crossed her path. Her personality was allowed to flower unhindered with her mother’s support. Their connection touches, inspires, liberates – it is a connection that lives beyond space and time.

Here is a little poem sent by a friend for Meeto, written by Raymond Carver which I find is so endearing and lovely. It goes-

And did you get what
You wanted from this life, even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself
Beloved on the earth.

“Meeto” in Hindi means “friend”. My previous post was about Kamla di and I had indicated the weblogs created in Meeto’s honor by both of their friends. It is my pleasure to copy them here once more.

http://www.meetomalik.blogspot.com/
http://necessityprevails.blogspot.com/2006/01/in-memoriam.html
http://necessityprevails.blogspot.com/2006/01/meeto.html
http://necessityprevails.blogspot.com/2006/01/some-of-my-memories-of-meeto.html

Kamla di

2006-03-17T23:30:00.000+05:30

She is someone who has been in my thoughts every single day since one day in January this year. She is Kamla Bhasin, Kamla di to me. “Di”, the short for “didi” is a term used to mean “elder sister” in quite a few Indian languages. I like calling her Kamla di.

She is someone who is dearly loved by the Creator and by everyone else who has crossed her path or whose path she has crossed. She has a warm hug, an encouraging smile, a forgiving nature and loads of wisdom to offer. She inspires one to dance and to sing. She can lead people to wonderful discoveries about their own selves, about the society they live in, about the Universe…..no wonder then that she has a huge fan following! Positivity moves with her like a constant companion taking her radiance to wherever she goes.

She is someone who works for social change, especially in the South-Asian region in the countries of Pakistan, Nepal, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, Afghanistan and India. She also works with people in Turkey.

She has other amazing qualities as well. She can appear as a beacon of wondrous strength and be as compassionate as ever in intense personal grief. She has the capacity to give meaning to deep personal grief and channelise it towards new learning, positive learning, higher learning…...for herself and the hundreds of others whose lives she has touched and continues to touch.

Her dearest daughter, Meeto, 27 years old, a student of Oxford "died" two months ago. She chose to leave her physical body. Kamla di has withstood her daughter’s decision bravely and with indomitable strength. Because of the love she radiates and the compassion she shows, she is surrounded by friends, relatives and well-wishers from different parts of the world at this time in her life. She says that the love is helping her to heal; she is receptive to this outpour of love. From the give and take of this highest form of energy, has emerged some wondrous connections and deep and positive revelations about the soul, about life, most importantly about the eternity of life and about the immorality of soul connections.

Meeto has her own galaxy. One of her friends in Oxford wrote about Meeto in her blog in January and this gave a chance to many more to write in – heart felt pieces of writing which just shows how much she, like her mother, influenced others. These are the links to the spaces devoted to Meeto on her friend’s blog.
http://necessityprevails.blogspot.com/2006/01/in-memoriam.html
http://necessityprevails.blogspot.com/2006/01/meeto.html
http://necessityprevails.blogspot.com/2006/01/some-of-my-memories-of-meeto.html

One of Kamla’s friends has created a separate blog in Meeto’s memory and honor.
http://www.meetomalik.blogspot.com/

I have known Kamla di since the past four years now. I have had the chance to spend more time with her than ever before since last month. I feel extremely graced.

Protests in the Air!

2006-03-15T19:45:00.002+05:30

My sister K, who works and lives in Bangkok has inspired me to take interest in the present political scenario in Thailand through her constant emails and commentaries on chat since the past one month…. now I am on my own sustaining the interest. Well what is happening there is quite incredible. More than 2,00,000 people have taken to the streets of Bangkok and are demanding the resignation of the present Prime Minister, Thaksin. Many corruption charges have been alleged against Thaksin, and in the beginning of this year he and his family played with the legal system and sold their stock in a telecom company earning 76 billion bath in profits - all tax free. A no-confidence motion in Parliament is out of question coz his party enjoys 2/3rds majority. Also, he has a fan following in the country because of his populist policies (that has led to the deterioration of the health system and primary schools, of course). He has escaped the numerous efforts made through lawful institutions to bring him to books… leading to a civil society uprising.

Protest by the masses have been continuing for sometime but day before yesterday, in an overwhelming move, the people converged in the largest numbers ever. The demonstration continues... it can be viewed live at mms://broadcast.manager.co.th/11news1

Even though I can’t understand a word of Thai, it is just wonderful to see the organized manner of the protesters, the voice intonations of the speakers from the civil society, the beats of the live music and the songs….I also marvel at the technology that enables me to see it live on internet! For more news on the situation, www.nationmultimedia.com is where a lot of impartial updates are to be found.

My First Post - My Special

2006-03-15T14:14:00.000+05:30

Thank you L.

L is a talented photographer, this photograph titled, "Lovely for You" describes my mood of now, and is a wonderful way to begin...

My mood... sentimental, thinking, creative, imaginative, chatty, deffering (understood as lazy), inspired...

......my name is Amrita, a wonderful woman I met recently told me that my name translated in Greek means, "Ambrosia". I instantly loved it and it gave me the final push to open my own blog with the name - Ambrosia!