Walk

The sand is white, dirty white, as far as I can see, where it merges with the clouds in the offing giving the impression that I am walking on a flat world, a world of absolute homogeneity where the dirt dissolves into cleanliness and the vastness of the landscape imposing, while I walk, and walk and keep walking.

-- Originally written of September 21, 2005 for LJ.

Hanumantha Days

My grandfather passed away on the night of the 11th of August. He was survived by two sons, two daughters and eight grandchildren. He was 75.

He was born into a financially healthy, traditional, south Indian, brahmin family in a village near Arani. His childhood was marked by extraordinary insistence on Hindu rituals and shastras that he lacked any understanding of the society and the way it worked. In his teens, when his father left the family for good with a seer, he was abysmal in managing the abundant arable land and scores of cows. In a few years most of his wealth was gone, thanks to the shrewd villagers, and he started wondering what he was destined to do with his life. It is that thought which led him towards astrology, palmistry, numerology, and other occult sciences. Later he strengthened his knowledge on the Vedas, Upanishads and other sacred Hindu texts. He earned his living by actively practicing horoscope analysis and purohitam. True to his name, he was a very active persona - he had visitors even a week before his death and he had commitments for the coming weeks.

He made the whole village his home. When his wife passed away in 1980 and the rest of the family decided to move to Madras for reasons of progress, he insisted on staying in his home (but for the last two years of his life). He led an ascetic life since then, living alone in the village, in his village, where his popularity as an astrologer grew to greater heights that people even from top political circles came to get his opinion. Needless to say, he was the first one to be consulted in any good or bad event in all the surrounding villages. Later he groomed a few purohits and delegated his responsibilities citing his schedule. When we all requested him to come join us in Madras and explained him the amount of money involved, he simply refused to budge. Talking of money, since he grew up in a village and most of his customers are villagers, he never demanded money for his services. He would humbly accept whatever was given to him.

Because of his hard-core values, in his initial days, he didn't allow the cleaning lady into the kitchen or the helpers into the house. But with time, his values eroded/upgraded and the cleaning lady had a free hand when it came to the pooja room and the kitchen, and his helpers sat next to him and ate the food he cooked. When we informed about his death to the village head, the news quickly spread, and about 25 of them took a bus at 1:00 a.m and after a few transits, made it to our home by 5:00 a.m. When his children showed tremendous courage and checked their tears, these people were beyond themselves and did cry hard.

I was his first and favourite grandchild. In the bigger tree of our family, everyone knew that he had a soft corner for me. I've had numerous discussions, dialogues and arguments with him over our rituals, cultural heritage and the advent of modern values and we never came to a conclusion. In the last two years, when we finally managed to pull him out of his home, I simply refrained from opposing his ideas. Whatever he said I'd agree on his face, even if I were dead against the thought. There were times when he would wait for my return to home to accompany him to the local health clinic for regular check-ups, refusing help from other family members.

He was an excellent cook. His rasam is worth a patent. He would simply walk to the backyard, pluck a few leaves and add it to the boiling ingredients and that would give a supreme flavour to his rasam. He was an excellent story-teller too!! He had the knack of elaborating one line jokes into stories with an excellent narrative. (His horoscope interpretation techniques were so thorough that I would sometimes joke that he told a good story to his visitor). He had a marvelous command over Tamil literature. He went to school only for a few years, but he read most of the literature out of interest and whenever someone gave a wrong interpretation for a line in Thiruvasagam or Silappadhigaram on the TV, he'd laugh and tell us the right meaning. But his most striking aspect was his simplicity. Not just his outlook, but his requirements and his home and his ideas and the way he carried himself around. Simplicity has never added so much to one's charisma.

-- Originally written on the 13 August, 2005 for LJ, in memory of my grandfather.

Engleesh Eatouts

Now, this one's embarassing:

The last few years have seen a lot of coffee shops, food chains and speciality restaurants cropping up that cater to the upper-middle class which finds itself with a lot of money than ever before. These places are typical hangouts - well maintained, clean, have some low-volume music in the background, the bearers are courteous, parking hassles are minimal, etc. But more than anything, your privacy is ensured - unlike Saravana Bhavan where somebody can sit next to you or your girl friend, these new eat-outs respect the need for private conversations with our family and friends.

Good. So far. In an effort to make the educated, ready-to-spend circle respected and feel welcome, they speak English. I guess they assume that it would be an insult to converse in Tamil (or the regional language) with the clientele. Bad. Their English is not only 'not good' but very artificial. It's okay if they speak English to a customer who is not familiar with Tamil, but when I respond to a couple of questions in Tamil and when they insist on carrying on in English, that leaves a bad taste - an artifical flavour of the language that does a bad imitation of American accent. Instead of 'would you like' we get ' you wanna'. Utter 'cool' which sounds totally uncool. Explain a dish/drink in rapid strides that demands you to ask for a slower, clearer explanation.

It's very clear that these people are trying to create a conducive atmosphere for couples on a date or replicate a scene that is seen in English movies. These acquired mannerisms are what they are - 'acquired'. Sometimes I feel that I don't belong there. I feel welcome where the hotel management does what naturally comes to them. Waiters using vernacular with a smile on their face speaking understandable words is million-fold better than 'youwannamochaoralatte'.

-- Originally posted on CP on 20th September, 2006.

Salman & Samarra

The recent bombing of a thousand year old Shia mosque in Samarra, Iraq brought the country to the brink of a civil war. More than hundred Sunni's were killed and the so-called round table talk between leaders of the sects were stalled, with each sect demanding apology from the other. As a result, hundreds of Sunni mosques were damaged. To put a temporary full stop to the crisis, leaders of Shia and Sunni non-moderate organizations have called for peaceful dialogues and have come up with new slogans against George Bush.

The recent cartoon crisis generated a tsunami of a reaction from the Islamic world and has already distanced itself from the common public in the Western world who agree that the cartoons were blasphemous and also strongly condemned the extremist reaction from the Muslims. The Scandinavian belt has remained together during the cartoon crisis inspite of their nationals and products disregarded vehemently in many Islamic countries.

That brings Salman Rushdie into the picture. Rushdie is a radical muslim, but not in the sense of the word that is commonly implied. His 'Satanic Verses' earned him a fatwa (death sentence) and international fame. The Nobel prize winners are very much decided by the Scandinavian scholars but heavily influenced by the Westerners. When I zoom out and look at the proceedings, I think Rushdie stands a very good chance of getting his prize in the next three years. But there will be controversies surrounding the choice because of his anti-Islam thoughts and people will forget that he's a genuine writer who desereved the prize. Remember, you heard it here first.

-- Originally written on 28th February, 2006 for CP.

Cartoons, Secularism & Islamophobia

Now, this is something I'm proud of. Written less than a year ago, this post holds on:

In September of 2005, the Danish daily Jyllands-Posten published a series of cartoons making fun of Prophet Mohammed and Islam in general. They are available here. I find it hard to dismiss the publication of these cartoons as freedom of expression and I think the editors knew that the cartoons are very well capable of offending the sensibilities of Muslims. Later, when Muslim organizations in Denmark demanded an apology from the Ministry of Culture, their request was turned down. Danish Imams took the task of spreading the word across the globe and the cartoon row is now a high-decibel news item.

I personally feel that the cartoons are blasphemous and provocative. I have regards for Islam and thier culture. My dad has served in Iraq and he has told me numerous stories of their top class hospitality. When I was a student in the US a few years back, I had a friend from Pakistan who was as cordial as anybody can be. I have spoken to US soldiers who have served in Iraq and Afghanistan who have good words about the tradition and values in an Islamic world.

I will quote three prominent personalities in the wake of the cartoon issue:

a) Mahmoud Zahar, Leader, Hamas: "We should have killed all those who offend the Prophet, and here we are demonstrating peaceably."
Other than the Danish flag being burnt along with the American and Israeli flags, numerous churches in many Islamic nations were burnt down. Christians have become target in Nigeria, Indonesia and a few other countries. Anything belonging to the western world is an object to be torched down in NW Pakistan, Syria and Lebanon. At least 30 people have died so far in relation with the cartoon crisis. If this is what Zahar addresses as 'peaceably', I don't know what he would mean by violence.

b) Yaqoob Qureishi, Welfare Minister, UP: "Rs 51-crore reward for Danish cartoonist’s head."
It is one thing for radical fundamentalists calling for the beheading of an anti-Islam in a country like, say Afghanistan or Iran. But, in a pluralistic society like India, a minister elected through democratic means putting a price tag on a cartoonist's head is an unequivocal incitement to murder. And there have been no stern warnings from either the state's chief minister or from anyone in the centre.

c) Farid Mortazavi, Editor of an Iranian newspaper: "The Western papers printed these sacrilegious cartoons on the pretext of freedom of expression, so let's see if they mean what they say and also print these Holocaust cartoons."
Some of the Egyptian and Gulf newspapers have this hobby: satirize holocaust, christianity and western civilization. This happens regularly and nobody raises a finger about it. (There was a cartoon which showed Hitler in bed with Anne Frank in retaliation). Mortazavi calling for a dozen cartoons making fun of the holocaust is a tit-for-tat act, to say the least and it is exhibits the shameless immaturity of an editor who is responsible for educating his country's citizens through information.

These are just three isolated incidents in the sea of outrageusly exagerrated reactions by Muslim extremists all over the world. Does anybody remember M.F.Hussain's nude portrait of the Hindu godess Saraswati? How many were killed in response to that painting? Zero. Remember Piss Christ, Serrano's crucifix immersed in urine? How violently did the devout Christians react? It probably didn't make it to the Indian media, huh.

I don't mean to say that religious fanatics are the sole property of Islam. There are the RSS and Bajrang Dal for Hinduism. Probably there are low profile agitation groups operating clandestinely for protecting the sanctity of Zionism and Christiantiy. But they are such a minority that they don't dictate terms to the government. But in an Islamic world, it's different: the iron-hand police force of Syria was not able to stop the burning of it's Danish embassy. The hardened military man Musharraf of Pakistan cannot control his country's college students who literally brought all foreign (read Western) businesses to standstill. The Indonesian president is walking a tightrope.

In a manner of speaking, these protesters have justified the cartoons which portrayed prophet Mohamed as a bomb about to go off. The best response would have been a peaceful, non-violent march. If that ever happened anywhere, it's all lost in the extensive fodder thrown to the media by the frenzied mob. If at all they perceive the cartoons as an offense to Islam, I think the sectaraian violence between Sunnis and Shias is a great insult to their Prophet. Why aren't there any demonstrations in Indonesia when Sunnis bomb Shias or viceversa in Iraq or Pakistan?

A peaceful protest is the best means of registering their anger and telling the world that you're willing for a meaningful dialogue for an amicable resolution of the problem. This sort of reaction exhibited so far is a clear signal that they're not ready to take offense and imply that Islam is not a tolerant religion. I believe that only around 10% of the Islamic population are on the streets causing mayhem listening to their senseless radical/extremist leaders like Zahar. And by getting on the streets and burning a McDonald's they're not only alienating themselves from the Western civilization, but more importantly they denigrate the remaining 90% of moderate Muslims who would have magnanimously forgiven the cartoonists and conveyed that the whole episode was in bad taste.

Doyle wrote: "Religion is a vital living thing, still growing and working, capable of endless extension and development, like all other fields of thought." Religion is not a prescription for the mankind through the Gita or the Koran or the Bible. Religion is an ever-evolving guideline for a peaceful life in our short stay. To constrain that guideline to a text written centuries before and insisting on mindlessly obeying it verbatim is not common sense in my opinion. As times change, the universal truths presented in those timeless scriptures take a modified interpretation. And I know very well that a modified interpretation of a scripture in Koran says "treat people belonging to other religions as your brothers and sisters."

-- Originally written on February 21, 2006 for CP.

Cartoon Crap

Hugh's gapingvoid, was, until a few days back a fun site with good marketing/blogging ideas sprinkled with some wonderful dry satire cartoons. Recently, he's been on a cartoon spree, and most of them are dry without his trademark satire, don't have that roughness or rudeness or arrogance or irreverence that he's known for. The spate of cartoons are tamed versions of inane ideas. I don't know what struck him or who he's dating...

--Originally written on March 01, 2006 on CP. Hugh posted the message in his site here. I followed it up with this comment:

What struck me was that so many people sympathizing with Hugh and asking him to not take my comments personally. My understanding of the man is that he was born with a thick skin. It's one thing to be infatuated with his cartoons, but I don't understand these people who can appreciate his 'throw that stupid out of the world' cartoon and at the same time sympathize for him when I haven't even said anything offensive.

Do You Listen?

I believe that when somebody speaks to us, 95% of the time we don't listen. Listening is a supreme art. We usually have a stack of images in our brains. An image about our society, American society, an image about our wives, our husbands, kids, friends, gods, nature. When somebody speaks to us, the image corresponding to the speaker pops in front of us. That image is nothing but the result of a collection of our experiences with that person with our unique characteristic features in receiving/accepting/rejecting/adapting to those experiences. Our mind processes the words of the speaker through that filter of image and we actually listen to an interpreted version of the spoken words.

I believe, that in rare circumstances, say, when we are in a meditative state (when you're 100% devoted to your task, that is meditation!!) or in a trance (I forget myself when I am seeing a very good movie, listening to very good music) or at absolute peace with ourselves, all those images are numbed and we can listen without any hindrance to what is being said. I believe we all rarely listen. But I can't prove it.

--Originally posted on CP on 10th April, 2006

Bloody Justice

Saddam Hussein is no more. The outpour of anger and uproar over the manner in which the trial was conducted and his hasty execution is deafening. Heck, even the little known political parties in India are calling for a strike. Joke, really. Yes, I agree that the American forces didn't surrender Saddam to the international war tribunal. His defense lawyers were killed. The judges were replaced. Even before his death sentence was pronounced, the president of Iraq blurted that Saddam won't live long. It was a farcical trial. No doubt. Though the path is faulty, I reckon the destination to be justified.

Saddam Hussein openly admitted in the national television to signing the death warrants of over 100+ men and boys from Dujail who tried to assassinate him. Though the deliverers of justice and the mode of the entire operation is filled with bias, prejudice and corruption, there shouldn't be any moral dilemma over his end. Until a couple of days back, he was one of the atrocious dictators alive responsible for killing thousands of innocents. Hypothetically speaking, if Japan invaded North Korea against the will of the international community and tried Kim Jong II, I won't be crying. What Japan did would be considered unjust, but the death of the dictator is in essence justice.

Bush invaded a sovereign state under false claims trying to loot it's oil resources. He's a very civilized rogue. An oil businessman who lacks guile. A naive president who doesn't understand the value of a life. A remorseless man who seems to occupy one of the poschest seats in the political world. His foreign policies will make good history lessons of how not to maintain relationships. His misadventure in Iraq is turning out to be worse than the Vietnam episode. The governing Shia force relishes it's chance to fry and saute the Sunnis. The Sunni insurgency isn't complaining.. they have an ever-replenishing supply of ammunition. The American troops had no gameplan before and now with the escalating civil war, they just happen to be the secondary targets of car bombs.

The Pentagon has hinted that it may send more troops to Iraq next year. Increased police force only means effective curfue and surveillance. Quelling a civil war needs much more than that. Bush, in one of the parties looked under the dinner tables and remarked jocularly "they must be somewhere around here.." meaning that the nuclear weapons should be just around the corner and it's only a matter of time before his forces find Saddam's secret laboratories and expose him to the world. That day never came. And Bush still hasn't learned to pronouned 'nuclear'. He still plays golf with his buddies. The Fox network is still not portraying the true picture of Iraq. The country is already out of America's hands. Increased military power in Iraq won't achieve anything significant. There's a joke that's been around for sometime in which Bush entertains the idea of bribing the militia. For someone like Bush, I sometimes wonder if that thought seriously passed his mind.

Book Review - 'The Curious Incident of the dog in the Night-Time'

Imagine a book without emotions. Imagine a book without flamboyance. Imagine a book without a central theme. I just finished a book that I thought lacked those elements and as I progressed I found myself nodding, whispering to myself: This book has something in it. Mark Haddon's 'The Curious Incident of the dog in the Night-Time' is a first perspective narration of an autistic boy who, because a sudden change in circumstances, is forced to break his living pattern and step out of the circle.

Many times through the course of reading this book I thought of Chris Boone, the central character, as an immature/poorly coded robot that's having a difficult time living with the rest of the humans. Chris is mathematically excellent and socially abysmal. And whatever little civic sense he has is a result of the laws of the society ingrained in him by his father and school teachers. His activities are more like a scheduler executing task, making us wonder if it's possible for him to emote at all.

One night, Chris finds his neighbour's dog killed by a garden fork. He sets out to find the killer and in the course of his investigation, records what transpires in his personal diary - which is the novel we get to read. Chris finds out about his parents' bitter relationships with his neighbours, and who the killer is. Knowing who the killer is frightens him, and he steps out of his home which provides us some in-depth understanding of how every street and corner is information-loaded for an autistic child/adult. Chris' ordeals out of his home are thrilling and exciting, but not in the sense that we are used to reading all the while. It's not nail-biting, but there is a certain degree of curiousity in the reader to know what would happen next.

There's a very compelling scene in the book where a character tells Chris that he is selfish and he doesn't think at all about anybody anytime and all that concerns his life is only himself. Emotions are running high for people around him because of him and he can't understand or reciprocate their feelings. Haddon does a very good job of narrating the events without any attachment to the characters and at the same time allows us to sympathize with some of the characters. In fact, a review by an autistic at amazon.com reveals that the book gets it right in painting the picture of the world from their point of view.

In it's heart, I found the book to be a love story - between the father and the son. The father is not merely tolerant or patient to put up with his son's impairment or quirkinesses. But the father whole-heartedly accepts his son as he is - which to me is the essence of love and intelligence of the highest order.

Originally posted on CP on July 25, 2006.

Looking at the Lake

A blankness engulfs the silent morning. I wake up and sit with no thought crossing my mind. I walk out of the tent... I can hear the birds cooing and feel the sun lazily focussing on this side of the third rock. The mind is so receptive, attentive and willing. There is a crispness in the air and I just feel like taking a walk along with her. She joins me and we start walking towards the lake.

There's a big rock in the middle of the lake. The water is still in spite of a few children playing, splashing the water. The splashes actually are a part of the stillness, just as how the noise they create is a part of the silence. After crossing the half-mark, we stop and look at the lake. Absorb the lake. There are others who have joined us in this journey, who are enjoying this serenity in their own sense... cracking jokes, photographing, talking about life and death, etc.

I wonder how many looked at the lake.

Originally posted on CP on August 24, 2006.

Disappear

You lock your room and start walking down the stairs. A child stumbles upon a step a bit far from you. You would have run down quickly to help the child get to his feet if the mother weren't there. You expect the mother to get to the child quickly, shower sugary words and soothe the pain. No. The mother slowly gets to the child and looks down, without offering any humanitarian assistance. The child looks up at the mother, all set to cry.

The previous night you had a bad day at the office. You kept telling yourself that things are going to fall in place and everything will be alright. You wished for a weekend that would start immediately. You understand that confusions, misunderstandings and bitterness with colleagues are all a part of the ups and downs of office routine and soon you'll be back with a smiling face and be yourself. In an absent-minded moment, you banged your leg into a metal pillar. Though you didn't suffer any serious damage, the pain remained and you had a hard time putting yourself to sleep.

The mother lifts the child by his arm, which itself should have been painful. And gives him a careless slap and tells him:"I've told you a thousand times. How many more times do you plan to slip at this step?" Now you have gotten down the stairs and you're close to the child. You can see tears flowing very silently into his cheeks. Without making a sound, he gathers his bag and slowly, very carefully starts descending. You just want to pull him close to you, run your fingers through his hair and tell him that everything's alright and it's not just kids, even adults fall down often and there's nothing wrong with what had just happened.

You step into the road. Gradually the metropolitan noise fills your eardrum, which you're so accustomed to. You swear to have tonight's dinner without TV in the background. You see an old lady negotiating with a heavy bag, obviously beyond her physical capabilities. You hate this combination of smoke and sun and you wish you had woken up earlier and avoided the crowd. You see the child seriously discussing something with his friend. The tears have gone. It's a busy street. You continue.

Originally posted on BS on August 29, 2006.

Hindu Photos

Ethics in media is declining/reshaping/becoming questionable and The Hindu is no exception. With it's minority appeasement content, bias towards the DMK and the tabloid last page, the newspaper I fell in love with might soon become a matter of history to me. A couple of comments on a couple of photographs:

Half of the photo is wasted on a cameraman. Why didn't they edit it out? There's a lot of steam between the two players and we don't have a photo that captures the split between them.

In the past few months, Dayanidhi Maran's photo in the newspaper is a constant, the variable being the page number. Though he's done some commendable things since he became a minister, projecting him as a leader of the future through such photos (take a second to look at the picture) is tiresome.

Desensitized Zone

"I think it pisses God off when you walk by the color purple in a field and don't notice it" - Shug, Color Purple, Alice Walker.

Walker does not refer to the mankind's inattentive approach to nature's aesthetics. Though true that is - we hardly notice the magnificent optical textures of jasmine or the tenderness of it's touch, or, to simply put it, it's raw audacious beauty. Sophisticated taste even triggers you to be moved or enthralled or awed or touched or sometimes even shocked by the subtleties. My taste, as unrefined as it can get, I can only sense the pleasure involved. The simple pleasure that jasmine provides me is all I know!!

But Walker's purple is not purple. It is sensitivity. It is respectability. It is acknowledgement.

People are Rude. In a manner of speaking, if you're travelling, they react as if you trespassed on their property; if you're a customer, you're intruding someone's work; if you're at work, you're taken for granted. There is proof for a gradient degeneration in our courteousness. Read literary works written a few centuries ago to understand their lifestyle. A loud obscene comment in public, which would've turned heads in that age is hardly noticed today. Generic humour which was only a funny good-natured banter is now sprinkled with lewdness, impoliteness and intentional offense.

So, what trigerred this transformation? How is the present different from the past? Two things popup in my mind - population, and technology. Thinking about population, every major city of any cultural origin is characterized to a certain extent by it's rudeness. Think New York, London, Tokyo, Mumbai. Has over-population desensitized us? Has the increasing number of people/sq.foot irritated us and eroded our courteous faculty? If so, is it going to be a slow descent into barbaric ages?

Modern technology, which has promised independence of many kinds, has remarkably reduced the intensity of an individual's interaction with the society. I think the cave of nextgen gadgets in which most of the younger populace lives today have been numbed for long to 'feel' the beauty or pathos or depth of anything that happens to him/her. Have the iPod's and cellphones and satellites overwhelmed our senses to the extent that we don't even acknowledge the next person as a person?

Originally posted on LJ on May 9th, 2005