Class(room) wars
I, till the other day, felt that my primary school days were quite lacklustre and didn’t offer anything for me to feel proud about, but not anymore. There were some distinct features in the ambiance of that school which I always overlooked but struck me like a thunderbolt only when I looked deeper into the school system that my daughter is presently part of. The school where I went itself was not a great piece of architecture, to say the least. With leaking roofs, uncemented floors and creaking doors, the building resembled more like an abandoned titled mansion of the nineteenth century than a functional school where everyday five hundred children assembled to pick-up elementary lessons in language, science and arithmetic. While the holes in the roof allowed copious amount of sun’s rays to penetrate into the classrooms throughout its day’s journey, in the long monsoon months of Kerala, they also let down sheets of water that wetted the books and cleaned the slates of the children sitting below with their umbrellas open. The benches on which we sat were more like see-saws that, when the boy on the right got up, the one on the left invariably went down and the whole classroom was always rocking. Three pieces of black-painted wood was stuck together to form the blackboard and when the teacher found it hard to make her writing on the board legible, children found it easy to convert it into “fixed stumps” for a quick game of cricket. The classrooms were separated, not by brick walls but by thin sheets of garden-fence material which again spotted holes of various sizes all over it. Peeping through these holes, a child in class three can check-out what is in store for him a year ahead and the child in the other class can always recap what he studied the previous year. And when teachers let the children read their lessons themselves to indulge in an exchange of pleasantries with each other, the sounds from the classrooms mingled and reverberated as one great voice of learning.
But in this school the only common factor between myself and my friends were the books we carried and the uniforms we wore. Each of us came from different social background; our parents had varied levels of education and did different jobs, we practiced different faiths and our economic statuses were too disparate and why, even the languages that we spoke at our homes were not common. Yet, in the school, we learnt the same lessons, shared the same facilities, played together and fought with each other without a thought of our obvious differences back home. While my father was with a reputed British tea company, Benny’s parents were teachers, Dinesh’s father a businessman and Rajendran’s mother worked as a maid in my house. And yet in school, all the four of us sat in the same bench. Though most of us walked to our schools, Dinesh always got dropped in his father’s car and Benny accompanied his mother in the town bus. And each time I got a scolding from the teacher, my mother would invariably come to know of it, thanks to Rajendran’s mother. Rajendran benefited much in his studies by being in the company of studious Benny and the rich Dinesh often shared chocolates with the rest of us. As we grew up, we took different paths in life and parted ways but wherever we are today and in whatever occupation, we all cherish a shared childhood.
As I look at my daughter’s class today, I am disappointed by the almost monolithic backgrounds of these students with variety and diversity, that was so much a given in my school days sadly missing. They all are children of the upper middle class families, their parents work for large corporations or multi-nationals, talk in a common anglicised lingo and live in high-rise apartments. Their world is occupied by TV sops, tinsel idols and a host of identical online activities and they all possess a common disinterestedness about the lives and struggles of the less fortunate. They live in their own cocoons in a world infested with facebook , twitter and i-store where the likes of Rajendran have no place. In the scheme of things of these private schools, a decent education is the sole preserve of the economically advantaged children and if the parent belongs to the wrong side of the divide, it is almost blasphemous to aspire to send his ward to these glorified portals of learning.
That’s why the Government thought that it would be a great idea if twenty-five percent of the seats in these schools are reserved for children from economically weak families so that classrooms become more egalitarian and these children too can avail a modicum of quality education. The highest court of the land concurred with this ideal and now private run schools are legally obliged to set one-fourth of their seats for pupils from weak sessions of the society.This ruling is definitely not to the liking of either the school management or to the neo-rich parents. The schools complain that these children will not be able to do well because they don’t have a supportive environment back home and hence will bring down the over-all performance of the school. And the parents say that in the company of the ill-behaved and slanging brats from the slums, their children will be spoilt beyond redemption and with hygiene standards among them being low, they argue that their children will even be put to health hazards. These arguments are marshalled with such force that they seem to acquire a legitimacy to keep the schools out of bounds for the poor.
This contracted thinking among the elite class betrays a mindset that revels on the status of exclusivity and believes that class destinations are their birth right and therefore need to be guarded zealously. For them, the ideals of inclusive society are more fit for academic discussions than for practical application and preservation of the status quo is the most desired goal.
Who will have the final say in this classroom war and a share in the nation’s progress is now anybody’s guess.
Yours
Narayanan
Initiative for a new defence
“ India scarcely has ammunition to last one full week in case of a war” scream the newspaper headlines while umpteen television talks and expert debates ceaselessly point out the dismal state of the country’s military preparedness. The air-power is ineffective, the night-vision equipments are faulty, the seas are unguarded and there is an acute paucity of officers at all levels- goes the list of alarming facts supported with chilling statistics which is designed to grip the people with a deep sense of insecurity. From obsolete weaponry to ill-trained soldiers to the faulty machines, the experts would want us to believe that the entire defence establishment is more like a fossilized version of a mammoth troop fit more for march-pasts than a cohesive fighting force capable of protecting the territorial integrity of the nation. The overwhelming verdict of these defence analysts is that the nation’s security is in grave peril.
And when it is a question of national security, you cannot afford to be rationale and ask sensible questions, lest you be branded at the best, as insensitive or at worse, as unpatriotic. So you better sit quite and remain a mute spectator to the bizarre clamour for much more increased defence spending for a nation which is already the largest importer of arms and ammunition in the world. Who cares if half the nation’s children are grossly undernourished and as long as it is willing to go on a shopping spree around the world picking up the latest and most fanciful war toys, you bet it is safely placed in the comity of advanced countries. War against poverty, disease and child mortality are indeed small battles which can be fought some other day in the distant future while at present, we are busy stock piling enough in the barracks to ably fight imagined wars and also win them many times over. The nation could be drained of trillions of dollars in this essential purchase but that is too little a price to pay to instil a sense of security amongst the people many of whom are deprived of life’s essential supplies.
But this clamour for more weapons and other defence equipments is not just a simple case of demand and supply as it is made out to be. It seems , in fact, to be part of a well orchestrated campaign where individual greed, political one-upmanship and entrenched interests of the arms industry converge to build a bogey of threat and defence inadequacy and intimidate the powers-that-be towards higher defence spending. These combined forces have little qualms to use any trick from the book, from manipulating the media to aggressive PR exercises and even influencing research findings, to push their no-so-hidden agenda. And when nations get sucked into this well laid trap and indulge in the catching-up act for defence parity, an unending spiral of weapon acquisition is unleashed. What is good for Paul is not good enough for Peter and this leads to a virtual arms race among neighbouring countries. Sitting over these arms pile, they lecture to each other to do away with their weapons, all for the sake of peace. It is as foolish as a man asking others to hold on to the branch tightly as he runs the blade to cut it down!
Peace, as history would teach us, is seldom achieved through military sophistication and whenever armed might overruled human reason and compassion, the result had been all-round catastrophe, including that for the perpetuator. But when compassion and non-violence were deployed as essential ingredient of statecraft, nations have forged victories over the hearts and minds of the people which in turn ensured abiding peace and tranquillity for centuries over vast lands. One illustrious example of this alternate approach to peace has been the achievements of King Ashoka the Great. Ashoka, in the zenith of his military victory, relinquished arms and became a missionary of peace and built on that edifice an empire so vast and prosperous that it is still considered the golden era in the annals of Indian history. He focused on fostering the humanness of his subjects, created structures and institutions for the flowering of the human spirit and instilled a deep sense of joy and contentment among them. The noble thoughts that his edicts and inscriptions promulgate continue to inspire generations and one of them, The Wheel of Dharma, became the national emblem as Ashoka Chakra, decorating the national flag. Another apostle, the Mahatma Gandhi, freed a vast country from the clutches of the most powerful nation of the time through the method of non-violence which became the tried and tested model for many liberation movements across the world. These great men have lived in the very soil which is now accused of not doing enough to strengthen its armed might!
The doctrine of nuclear deterrence propounds that nuclear weapons would make the world more safer place as nations will eschew wars for fear of a nuclear holocaust. But with all the nukes, nations do spend huge money to build military hardware and still fight many wars. The only deterrence that we need is not Weapons of Mass Destruction (WMD) but the Wisdom of the Mahatmas to uphold Dharma.
” We must work to change the hearts of men so that we remove the causes of war”
Yours
Narayanan
To my fellow Delhi brethren
My Dear fellow Delhiite,
What prompted me to write this is this , (http://raagshahana.blogspot.com/2011/09/open-letter-to-delhi-boy.html) . If you have not already read it, I strongly recommend that you desist from doing it. Because, through a cocktail of half-lies, myopic and prejudiced opinions, mud-slinging salvos and plain innuendos that make the choicest abuses sound like hosannas, the blogger unleashes a hate tirade against you with the nefarious intent to cause disquiet and hence should be completely ignored. But when the coloured rant gets nearly a million hits, thousands of comments and assumes the status of a great literary piece in the internet space, it becomes my binding duty to stand by you, my dear Delhi brethren, to call the bluff and snub the racial rumblings.
The blogger names her site by the Raag Sahana and that is most hilarious. If there is a booker price for christening a write-up most inappropriately and in contrast, it should go to this blog title. Raag Sahana, with its enchanting notes and enthralling melody calms, sooths and uplifts the spirit of the listener whereas blog raagshahana causes anger and rage amongst its readers. When Raag Sahana is that eternal love tune that transports one to the pinnacle of musical pleasure and ecstasy, raagshahana is that jarring hate note that plunges the reader into a quagmire of painful turmoil that stirs up vengeful emotions. Raag Sahana and raagshahana are poles apart for the impact they respectively leave on the listener and the reader.
But you, the ever jovial Delhi guy, is not the one to get perturbed by these incoherent cacophony and your famed sense of humour and light-heartedness is guarantee enough to neutralize the venom the writer injects into her piece. And your ability to see the positive and the brighter side of any situation that life presents itself and the guts to turn it around is your singular asset and you are envied for it, no end. You are the one who could laugh at yourself and make others too laugh with you and that is a trait most contagious. And when you break into that scintillating and rhythmic dance moves with electrifying effect and spread cheer all around, you are a delight to watch. And there isn’t a counterpart anywhere who could enliven a gathering as marvellously as you can! You indeed are a great charmer!
And to talk about the vastness of your entrepreneurship in this space would be like an attempt to measure the ocean with a glass tumbler. You are from that linage of enterprising men who start off their career selling second-hand books on the foot path and, all in a matter of few years, rise to become international publishers with turnovers in millions and an assured livelihood to hundreds. You could, through your dint of hard work, turn around a road-side Dabba into a chain of seven-star hotels that the rich and the powerful frequent and also transform their interiors as the backdrops where stunning beauties pose to appear on the covers of the Elle magazine. And with your ingenuity and creative genius, you could transform a worn-out car into an ultra-modern multi-purpose vehicle and put to use a washing machine to churn out Lassi in quintals and come out with a million such novelties. Some dull-heads might dismiss your lateral thinking skills as “Juggad”, but it is this quality of the head that ensure affordable products to most of our countrymen. There isn’t still a competition for you anywhere to this essential Punjabi trait; Balle, Balle!
And as much as the nature has bestowed you with unparalleled qualities of the head, you are equally an emperor of the heart. Your sense of community and charity, of sharing and caring is a study in the art of philanthropy, worthy of emulation anywhere in the world. Coming as it is in from the great tradition of a common brotherhood, you lavish the choosiest food and warmest clothes on all and sundry across temples and gurudwaras and there is never a “NO” to a stretched hand which is most heart-warming. The langers (free community kitchens) you spread are vast human crucibles where man-made barriers tumble to merge into the oneness of humanity and you are the blessed one to bring in this transformation. How I wish I had these qualities of the heart myself!
These sterling qualities of head and heart are only enhanced by the physical charm of an average Punjabi Delhiite. With chiselled facial features and a golden complexion to go with it, you easily are the most handsome guy a girl could cast her eyes on and it is no accident that the Bollywood is crowded with Punjabi boys and girls as actors and actresses. And what is Bollywood music without the Punjabi folk tunes that instantaneously puts our feet to rhythmic taps? Along with being a charmer, you are also an eternal entertainer.
With such a repertoire of talent and skills, is it any surprise that you become the target of such envious jabber? But you have the head to know this and a heart to forgive it.
By the way, here is a hearty wish for a very Happy Gurupurab, the birthday of Guru Nanakji who gave us the message of the unity of all creations, Ek Omkar!
Yours
Narayanan
A grateful Madrasi & fellow countryman
( Posted on Guru Purab day)
A Diwali gift
Diwali is one occasion when people let loose their wallet and pull all stops to gift their near and loved ones with presents they would cherish, and cost really isn’t a barrier to such offerings of the heart. And this Diwali, Shreya decided to present her lovely grandma with something memorable and why would she not do it? After all, she just got her first pay and would want to splurge it on someone who is so very special to her. She has always been the darling of her Granny and now it’s her turn to celebrate their relationship in a befitting way.
“Granny, I would want to present you such a gift this Diwali that you would admire it for many Diwalis to come and here you have an option to choose one from the two. Tell me, what would I present you, a Blackberry or an Apple”
“Apple or Blackberry for Diwali? Darling, we give sweets to each other on this occasion. And talking about sweets, I have a whole list of my favourites… From the juicy Gulab Jamuns to the crispy Soan Papidis and the saucy Jeelabis . And in our times, we use to make all of them at home unlike these days where you just lift the gift-wrapped stuff from a shop. But at this age I might need to take insulin shot before I could even take a look at these.”
“No, Grandma, nothing doing. I would present you nothing less than an Apple or a Blackberry .Come on Granny, which one would you like to have”
“Oh dear one, I would prefer an apple for a blackberry any day. A bite of an apple never let’s you down to cheer up unlike the blackberry which has an obnoxious touch and feel about it. By merely smelling an apple, I can even tell you where the stuff was grown… But how on earth you want me to cherish these fruits for the rest of my years… And I hope you are not planning to give me plastic ones….everything is plastic these days you see… the lamps, the flowers, the smiles….”
“Oh, you thought I would be that stupid to present the sweetest and the prettiest of all the grannies in the world with a tiny fruit? I mean the Apple Ipad or the Blackberry mobile, Granny….. Okay let me make the choice for you…. I would buy you the latest version of Apple Ipad and I bet you would love to have it.”
“ Apple Ipad ?”
“Yeah an IPad…and you know, in an Ipad you don’t require a mouse to open a window?”
“I anyways don’t need mouse to open the window. In fact, your grandpa used to catch rats and mouse and throw them out of the window with his hands…on to the fields”
“I mean the Ipad is all touch-screen, Granny…. you can run and operate any application by merely touching on the screen at the right places. Even a child can work, nay play, on an Ipad and it is so much fun. It’s the lightest tablet around”
“Oh, thanks for reminding about the tablet, my sweetheart… I forgot to have my BP tablet this morning ….it is so light and small, I always misplace it. I almost lost the tablet given by the doctor for the virus infection…. It was so tiny, you see”
“Oh Granny you need not have to worry about virus infections any longer and that is absolutely great news! This Ipad tablet will never get a virus. You can download any stuff from the internet and it will automatically be virus-screened which would mean you can safely surf the net and browse any site without the machine getting infected”
“Surf for the nets? It is never safe. It is always just dry dusting for the nets and they will last for generations. Your grandpa once washed the imported nylon mosquito nets presented on our wedding with surf and entire stuff got torn down to shreds. If you want, you can put them under the morning sun to make them bugs-free.
“In the Ipad, there is absolutely no chance of any bugs either, Grandma. It is so finely designed that bugs in its software is a definite impossibility”.
“ Soft wears will never have bugs darling. It is always the heavy woollens which are the breeding grounds for the bugs. And for woollens you can safely use surf but it has to be washed only in cold water. Otherwise the designs would just fade off”
“ This Ipad is a design master-piece which would remain a connoisseur ’s choice for years and just won’t fade-off in a hurry. Its smart cover is as beautiful as the machine itself and transforms into a stand when you open it. It is sleek, trendy and comes in hues of colours. You can show all your applications as icons in it and they will be displayed on the screen. With just a touch on the icon, you can download your favourite music, movies, books or anything that you want from the scores of app stores… Isn’t that amazing….”
“Why do I need to download these myself when I can get them home delivered from the Appu’s store downstairs. His store has all these stuff and much more and the delivery time is zero that it reaches our home just in a flash”.
“That’s the only problem Granny. You cannot run a flash application on an Ipad. But the other features in it more than compensates for this little glitch. You can connect to wi-fi, check your mails, chat with other grannies and even see them live on the facebook…”
“ I am bored of seeing them face-to-face everyday and now you want me to have a whole book with their faces? Oh I only want to hold my lord in my memory. ”
“With the kind of memory that an Ipad has, you can hold the lord and all his creations in it. The Ipad is the final parting gift to humans from the great Steve Jobs”
“I am not yet ready to receive a parting gift and still have some more jobs to do. And instead of Ipad, why don’t you gift me a padlock with which I could secure my things as I travel to my native village?”.
“What an idea Granny?”.
“No baby, just thinking different.”
Yours
Narayanan
The Power of 32
Indian government, in all its wisdom, has recently discovered that an earning of Rs. 32 per day is all that it takes for a person to be above the poverty line, the great economic divider below which about half of the country’s population perpetually belong. With 32 rupees, the country’s top-most policy makers tell us , a person can have three nutritious meals a day, can adequately cover his physical frame with a sufficiently long piece of cloth, travel to his place of work, meet his medical expenses, if any, and also can ensure a roof over his head! This counsel of wise men asserts that Rs.32 has all the power of purchase and to deliver these minimum essentials required to classify a person above poverty. And these are wise men entrusted with the divine responsibility to chalk out the collective destiny of over 1.2 billion people, so they just cannot be wrong. It is another matter that even a street lumpen would display more realism in his estimates but an official figure culled out after a rigorous process of data sampling, price analysis, study of inflationary pressures and statistical modelling can scarcely be faulted. Statistics would have been clubbed together with white and black lies, but this Rs. 32 per day formula of the state has, for a fact, accomplished a stupendous task of effectively pulling out at least 32 crore (320 million) people out of poverty- on paper, that is.
But 32 is no ordinary number that it does not have the power to achieve this herculean task. Look at it mathematically, for instance. It is the number that displays few astonishing properties that qualifies it to be bestowed with amazing capabilities. Along with being a number that can be represented as an exponential of 2, which is 25=32, the number can also be expressed as the sum of three different numbers raised to the power of the number itself, that is 11 + 22 + 33 = 32. And that is just not all about this number. 32 is also the sum of two different numbers, each raised to the power of the other, that is, 24 + 42 = 32. And 32 is also the smallest two-digit number whose square is a four digit number (32 x 32 = 1024 where as 31 x 31 is 961, which is only a three-digit number). It is for its mathematical qualities that 32 figures as an important “byte”, an information storage unit in computers.
The uniqueness of number 32, though very significant in mathematics, is not limited to it but extends to many other fields as well. When the number of pieces in a game of chess is 32, the number of squares, both of white and black in a chessboard is also 32 each. The spokes in a bicycle wheel is usually 32 and the number of pages in a comic magazine is essentially 32 or multiples thereof. In the human anatomy, while the count of vertebrae in the spine that keeps the human body erect is 32, the total tally of teeth that is found in an adult mouth is again 32. In music, a 32 count refers to the number of beats or pulses that go in one phrase, an extremely useful unit in dance choreography; a 32 stringed guitar is an amazing piece of art as well as a versatile musical instrument. In Indian tradition, there are 32 types of Shiva lingams, each bestowing specific boon to the faithful worshipper while Gautama Buddha is regarded to have had “32 signs of a great man” the references to which is found throughout the Buddhist texts. And that’s not all, some of the greatest men in history seemed to have just lived for about 32 years but accomplished Himalayan tasks that would take ordinary mortals millions of years to achieve and one of them is Adi Sankara, the great exponent of Advaitic philosophy. Another extolled soul, Jesus Christ is said to have lived just around that age. Maybe these are good enough reasons why the mandarins of power chose this number to segregate the haves from the have-nots.
But the market dynamics work on cold additions of numbers than on the special features of any of them. With Rs. 32 you can possibly buy half a loaf of bread along with half a litre of milk and eat and drink them raw throughout the day, because you wouldn’t be left with any money either to warm the milk or to toast the bread. Or else, with Rs. 32, you can eat thrice and live on a few pieces of chapatti, a morsel of rice to the accompaniment of few vegetable crumbs and a pinch of salt. And if you feel these does not come anywhere near the daily calorie need of 1200 to survive, you could eat an egg but then would have to forgo a meal in return. In the event you succeed to keep the body and soul together with these bare intakes, you will have zero money either to cover the body thus preserved or to protect it under a shelter. Whatever are the features of the number 32, Rs.32 proves to be truly a pittance which can just keep you breathing but ask our policy makers and they would tell you that if you are surviving you indeed are not poor. Because in their scheme of things, poor has no right to survive!
This numerical pegging is the highest insult that a country can inflict on to their deprived masses and when such a humiliation is administered by the democratically elected polity, it betrays an utter lack of sensitivity to the plight of the poor and an appalling state of denial to the sub-human level of their existence. And to brand those who manage to eke out a few mouthfuls a day as sufficiently endowed with the wherewithal for a decent living is to make a mockery of their impoverishment and a blatant stripping of their human dignity. This callousness is symbolic of a deeper malady of a society where people living in patches of prosperity are totally oblivious to the indignation of people spread out in vast swamps of land around them – a sure recipe for disaster.
It is indeed a pity that even after 64 (2 x 32) years of independence, India still grapples with issue of poverty in such myopic way and one would only wish that it does not take another exponential years of 32 to finally eradicate the malaise in its truest sense.
Yours
Narayanan
P.S. For those western readers of this blog, Rs. 32 would roughly convert to about 65 US cents.
Teaching lessons
In his eternal quest for truth, bliss and for inner peace, man set on foot to many a pilgrimage that stretched from the tranquil mountain peaks to placid river banks, from silent sylvan forests to the barren hill tops and then on to the serene expanse of the choicest ocean shores. And in those pristine spots where mother earth spreads a majestic panorama of beauty and calmness, where nature remain untouched by the exploits of human adventures, many a wise men sat and contemplated on the deeper mysteries of life and gave expressions to profound philosophical thoughts. On to these glorious lineage belonged a Adi Sankara and a Gutama Buddha, a Vyasa and a Valmiki and umpteen number of saints and sages who, from time to time, nourished and nurtured the eternal springs of spiritual wisdom for humanity to draw joy and sustenance from. In these venerated places came up temples and monasteries, ashrams and viharas that beckoned seekers of truth far and wide and enveloped them with an aura of divine benedictions. Along with being powerful searchlights for spiritual knowledge, many of them soon developed as centres of educational excellence where finer subjects of human interest, ranging from empirical sciences to abstract arts, were studied and taught and the contribution of these portals of learning towards the evolution of human mind has remained unsurpassed.
Of these extolled locations, Kasi and Rameswaram stand out as twin brothers and a visit to one of them remains incomplete without a visit to the other. While Kasi, or Banaras as it is otherwise called, is situated on the banks of the Ganges river flowing rapidly with the mingled waters of the Yamuna and the mystical Saraswati, Rameswaram stands quietly as an eternal witness to the turbulent waves of the Bay of Bengal. When a dip in the Ganges at Banaras is considered to wash off the accumulated sins of many births, a plunge in the sea waters at Rameswaram is said to have the most purifying effect to the soul. And when an unending stream of elevated souls find fulfilment in the ablution of Kasi Vishwanath, it is the Lord himself, as Rama, who paid obeisance to the deity at Rameswaram. But both personify the universal formless aspect of divinity symbolised by Shiva in the Linga form and both assure a sincere seeker, liberation from the illusionary world of bondages. They attract devotees in their millions and figure prominently in the list of our ancient and sacred cities.
Rohit Kumar
And it is in that wonderful city of Banaras that I met Rohit Kumar, a teenaged, thin framed but a very jovial boy who works as a sales person in a shop that sells the famed silk sarees of Banaras. Rohit Kumar, when he is not unfolding and folding sarees, also doubles as a city guide for the visitors to the shop and he gladly lent his services of taking me along with my family around Kasi. “This is Hanuman Temple” and “Here Kedar ghat” Rohit would insist on giving his city counsel in ragtag English and we enjoyed every bit of his conversation. “Morning here no food, evening food” Rohit advises me on the availability of street foods in Banaras only in the evenings. “The price of silk Rs.800 last year, same Rs.1600 this year” laments Rohit on the doubling of the silk prices in just one year affecting the saree business in the city.
As I got curious of Rohit’s obsession to speak in English even to a person who understands and responds in the native tongue and asked him the reason for this passion, I was narrated a most heinous story of how the aspiration of a budding school kid could be mercilessly plucked, crushed and destroyed by the insensitiveness of a school teacher. Rohit would go to school with his English Grammar work complete but his teacher would thrash him for doing them all wrong. With illiterates as his parents, Rohit had no way to check his answers at home but had the fire to learn well and the willingness to put in effort. But the teacher, instead of correcting and teaching him right, would continue to humiliate the young boy in front of the whole class with whipping canes and abusive words. With this regular ill treatment, Rohit’s will to continue in the school reached a breaking point and one day he decided to leave the school, for good. “One day hitting, two day hitting, three day hitting and…” continued Rohit in a voice filled with deep anguish”and I decided no more school”. Rohit ended up as an unskilled helper in a saree shop, earning Rs.50/- a day with no scope for any further education and a promising future in sight. But he still carries a fire in the belly to learn and to grow.
But in the other city of Rameswaram, there was another teacher and another boy, and this boy had a totally different story to tell. The teacher, Mr. Siva Subramania Iyer, would lovingly explain to the children the concepts of science and also give practical demonstrations and make them understand those concepts. One day Mr. Siva Subramania Iyer explained to his class children the science behind the bird’s flight. He drew pictures of birds flying on the board, explained how birds created lift and thus could fly and why birds flew in formations and other intricate details of flight. Many of the students did not understand but Siva Subramania Iyer is the one who would ensure that his children learn and learn well. He took them to the sea shores of Rameswaram, made them observe the birds in motion, make note of their formations, the way they flap their wings to fly and how they bend their bodies to change direction. This demonstration kindled a fire in one of the boys to learn more about flights as his life mission. The boy studied hard and well, got into a prestigious engineering college and took up Aeronautical Engineering. He later went on to head the country’s space mission, won many laurels, got the highest civilian award of the land, the Bharat Ratna, and ultimately became the president of the country. That boy was APJ Abdul Kalam.
Oh what a contrast! One teacher made a gem of a person out of an inquisitive boy and another extinguished the fire to learn in a curious child through abusive behaviour.
Aarti at Ganges
As the historical city of Banaras silently gazes the incessant flow of the Ganges below, it still awaits for its Siva Subramania iyer to light the lamp of hope in its children.
Yours
Narayanan
Forty something
The tightened belt struggles hard to rein in his ever expanding waistline while the protruding tummy makes him lose his buttons at periodic intervals. The pitch dark hairs are slowly giving way to sparsely spread strands of silver as the once piercing eyesight now demands spectacles to decipher the fine prints. There is a noticeable lax in the strides which are no longer brisk nor breezy and the snail-paced cruising of the car is a pale shadow of his famed formula styled racing of yesteryears. A compulsive devourer of anything that is eatable now studies the fat content of the bottled lime water before taking the first sip and also keeps an antacid tablet handy, just in case the citrus juice triggers a bout of acidity in the digestive tract. And when the “once-upon-a-time” daring, experimenting and risk-taking individual now craves for stability and shows an overarching desire to maintain the status quo, you bet the guy is now in the forty something years of his earthly existence.
And if the guy is the one who is genetically predisposed to shed his locks early on, a visit to the salon during the forties would prove to be a very exercising and also an expensive experience. With a very limited supply of widely dispersed strands, the barber, nay the hairstylist, would need to deploy all his hairdo skills to reasonably conceal the shining pate and the money the person need to shell out for this delicate job would be inversely proportional to the density of the tuft on his head. And even after all the expertise of the tress were put to lavish use, if he is still dissatisfied to that modicum of a dark cover, he is sure to be gently reminded that one cannot possibly hide an elephant under a mud pot. With the add-on service of a discounted facelift massage that promises to drop years from one’s face, the guy definitely would look poorer, if not younger.
The waning of the youth and the advent of the middle age is announced through well-calibrated indications that start with the subtle whispers of the occasional bodily aches to the more pronounced reflections in the mirror, to the loud proclamations of the younger people around who spot the phenomenon and seldom forget to remind the guy of its vital signs. Along with exaggerating the mild physical changes that the body display, they also highlight the antique value of his two-year-old mobile, look at his glittering Rolex watch with an archaeological curiosity and keenly study the contours of his well-fitting pants as if it was a costume wear of a period film. For them he is the representative of a bygone era, reminiscent of an age untouched by the liberating influence of Gucci, Messi or 3G. The guy would be pleased when a teenager, considering his saltish-pepper crown, extends a courtesy to drop him to the nearby store in the bike, but when a stunning beauty in her early twenties, displaying a sizzling figure and a terrific attitude, passes by and wishes him “Nameste Uncle” in reverential tone, his heart bleeds and bleeds profusely.
But he is not the one who would take things lying down and let the world move ahead while he gazes at it like an ancient monument. He picks up the trendiest wears in the town, checks in to the most happening places in the town, checks-out the latest fashion accessories in vogue and chills at the coolest spots. He brushes up his lingo with the latest Facebook idioms, plugs-in to the latest music from the apps store and joins the neighbourhood gym to tuck in the tummy and to tone-up the muscles. He is now seen more often in t-shirts and in skin-hugging jeans and has, of late, acquired an additional bounce to his steps. At forty, the guy has become damn naughty!
But he soon realises that forties is not all about greying hairs and slowing lifestyles. It is also a spectacular reminder of the deepening life experiences and the blossoming of wisdom that accompany it. The bespectacled face symbolizes a keen intellect sharpened by years of scholarly pursuits and each silver hair represents the maturing of the person achieved but only through years of grounding in the university called Life. The treasured old gadgets signifies the value that we need to attach to products that truly serve our purpose and not be carried away by every passing fads while, the balancing and stabilizing approach towards life is an anchor sheet to still life’s occasional tempests.
Forties indeed are the finest years of our lives!
Yours
Narayanan
Fast, the new fad!
One of the most endearing scenes from my childhood years is the site of the vernacular calendar hung strategically at a wall in our house such that all glances fell on it very easily. The calendar, called the “Thadhi Calendar” in Tamil, had a picture of one of the innumerable deities of the Hindu pantheon and 365 tiny tear-sheets stapled on it from which my mother would tear off one every dawn as part of her morning religious ritual. Each of these sheets would carry data on the positions and movements of the celestial bodies during the course of the day that could make the most exhaustive Wikipedia post on the subject look very pedestrian. And to decipher those plethora of fine-printed almanac information calls for a training in astrology, religion and mathematics that only a school of zealously guarded traditional upbringing could offer. The monthly highlight of the calendar for the family is the “Ekadesi”, the eleventh day of the lunar month, the day on which my grandmother would invariably observe a fast.
Ekadesi, literally translated, would mean “one plus the tenth day” and the preparation for the event starts well on the” Desami”, the tenth day itself. My mother would grind the wheat very coarse and soak it overnight which would form the main ingredient of the grandmother’s frugal meal once she decides to call off her fast well into the night of the Ekadesi day. Granny would spend the best part of the waking hours on that day in rituals and in contemplation and once tired of them, would resort to loud reading of some religious texts. And with night falling, she would partake her meal of sweetened wheat gruel and share a portion of it with all in the house. Everyone in the family would relish the unique recipe and would keenly look forward to the next Ekadesi! Grandmother continued this fasting austerity month after month, for years and decades and she believed it to be her sure-shot passport for a place in the heavens. Fasting was thus a spiritual exercise for her, a tool for communion with the divine.
What is essentially an austerity to please the gods, fasting, in the hands of Anna, morphed into a coercing technique to ruthlessly bring the “powers that be” to the knees. And when Anna fasted, the government initially fumed, then fumbled, quickly stumbled and at last stooped and kneeled in front of a septuagenarian whose towering moral authority was too much of a force for the authority of the state to handle. Cheering at its discomfort were the disempowered people of a nation, long lost their collective voice to tame their so-called representatives and felt humiliated at the insignificance of their democratic participation that remain confined to its little duty of putting a little mark, on a little piece of paper standing in a little booth- once every five years. When the government became exhausted with each day of Anna’s fasting, the people knew they have discovered a new weapon to regain the right to script their destiny. But when a new weapon is invented, it is only to be expected that it be tested in different scenarios under varying conditions so that its universal validity and effectiveness is scientifically established.
Students could now think of fasting if their teacher gives them less than distinction marks and just in case distinction is not good enough, they still could fast to have the right to take guide books to the exam hall so that they could get nothing less 100%. And if even with 100% they still don’t find their names in the college admission list, they could again fast, either to get a seat or to make their score 101%. At home, teenage children could fast and pressurise their parents to give them decent enough money to be able to take their fiancee to a five-star dinner and as SMS becomes passé, a day-long fast may not be a bad idea to speed up the next level mobile purchase so that they could video-chat with their friends, all night long.
In the hands of housewives, fasting could assume more lethality than a Kalashnikov in the hands of a Jihadi. They could fast, not to reduce their waistline, but to compel their husbands to shell out a bomb of money at the month-end to buy that fancy diamond stud while the poor guy carries on with the same razor blade for weeks on end. And if that is not proof enough of its effectiveness, they could still try the technique to ensure that their mothers-in-law do not visit them for the next five years.
Oh, I just realised that I have been fasting all night long! Let me break-fast.
Yours
Narayanan
The Joy of Resurrection
“Lesser affections diminish with separation; greater ones are enhanced with it.
The wind that blows out a candle flame also fans a forest fire!”
The crowning hair swinging gently with the wafting breeze strokes a divine romance in the heart’s deepest recess as the pair of exquisite velvet feet, peeping out alternatively of the sweeping silken gown, ignites an innocent longing to caress and to kiss them. The bewitching smile playing on the vermilion lips dissolves a million woes while the gesturing hand suggests to hold the entire cosmos in its palm. And as the lord glides his way to the midst of his darling children; the gods above and the denizens below stood transfixed by that ethereal beauty which could have but only descended direct from the heavens. Clasping their hands in the highest veneration for their beloved master, the beaming faces of the beatified thousands reflect an inner state that’s swimming in an ocean of bliss. The stretched hand that lovingly accepts the penned prayers and petitions, the gentle nod which reveals an all pervading omniscience, the tender cajole that transcends the cumulative affections of a zillion mothers, the soft whisper that instantaneously dissolves the stratified ignorance of many aeons- The regal pageantry of such supreme benedictions is a sight fit only for the Angels!
If the physical charm of the avatar captivates the outer senses, the nectarine words that emanate from the depth of truth prompts an inner vision that beholds the manifested beauty within. Cascading rapids of musical verses and poetic eloquence, punctuated with scintillating tales and subtle humour, the Lord presents the highest spiritual wisdom in the simplest dialect so that mankind could marvel at the authority of its source, ruminate on the profundity of the words and rejoice in the truth of the message. Gently awakening the slumbering humanity, the celestial voice reminds the glory of man’s true lineage and beacons to proclaim it as its rightful heirs. His words herald the extolled goal to be reached and the royal path to be traversed and instil a firm resolve to embark upon a journey that is sublime and yet so thrilling. And as the aspirant takes the few infant steps, the Lord looks on with motherly pride, showering the child with gifts of love and words of encouragement. Such is the grandeur of the Lord who walked upon the face of this earth.
And when such an Avatar chooses to shed the mortal coil and establish itself in its formless essence, the multitudes despaired inconsolably in the thought that the anchor sheet of their lives is now forever snapped and the guiding light of their existence, ebbed out. Caught in the tempest of the grief, they fervently wished to feast their eyes with the beauty of that form just one more time and sought to make amends for their lapses, assuming it to be the reason for the master’s abrupt exit. They vowed to tread the royal road with renewed diligence, all for the sake to bring him back in their midst. But when the Lord decides to bring down the curtains to his earthly sojourn, the feverish laments of countless millions are too timid a force to change his will which shall prevail at all times and in all circumstances. But the physical attachment to the form made them feel orphaned as they reeled in the agony of his separation.
This separation is but an outward void that compelled his children to look for him deep within and as they did it, Alas! they found their master shining there in all his glory, drenching their very being in love and bliss! Just as the sun cannot be separated from its light, as the sugar cannot be devoid of its sweetness; the Lord and his creations are so inseparably interwoven that one has no existence without the other. For hasn’t he not reminded us that “I and you are one” and when that reality dawns on us we rejoice in his resurrection in our very hearts – for he is Truth, Bliss and Beauty- Sathyam, Shivam Sundaram!
Narayanan
The Samurai people
Japan, a group of many islands in the Pacific Rim, is the land of the most enterprising, hard-working and disciplined people belonging to the Nipponese tribe. Short in physical stature, the contributions of the Japanese towards the progress of human race are nevertheless gigantic and touch all endeavours of human activity- from science to spirituality, from music to martial arts. The nation, often threatened by natural calamities and once ravaged by a nuclear holocaust, is also the birthplace for the most fertile and creative minds. The ideas and ideals emanating from here have often transformed human thoughts and fuelled human progress and there isn’t a civilization that has remained immune to its defining influences. The small Japanese cars are a rage the world over, its electronic and digital goods are house-hold essentials and its engineering expertise has created architectural marvels in far-off cities across the globe. While an Ikebana is signature statement for a connoisseur in fine living, Kaizen today is a technique employed the world over for constant plan, process and product refinements, all originating from the land of the rising sun.
Such colossal achievements have naturally given the Japanese a very firm grip on global markets, economies and politics. We thus have today more Japanese multinational companies in the world than any other nation, have trillions of Yen invested in all major economies and Japan play a very crucial role in the geopolitics of our world. And by virtue of these commending positions, it occupied a pride of place in the comity of nations until that fateful March afternoon when the earth beneath it shook violently and altered its topography and with it, its destiny, beyond recognition.
The advanced technology of the Japanese ensured that the buildings the quake shook stood erect but the churning of the oceanic waters spelt catastrophe to the nation that is often complimented for it high level of disaster preparedness. And soon the monstrous waves breached their natural boundaries and engulfed vast swamps of land, bringing down and sweeping away in the fury all that came in their way- people, houses, vehicles, bridges, farms, ships and even aircrafts! Finally when the waves retreated, what were left behind are huge masses of rubble with undistinguishable human bodies stuck beneath them, flames leaping across from a hundred blazing fires and the threat of many impending nuclear accidents. As the nation face multitudes of human tragedy, a thick dark cloud of despondency hangs over the country.
But Japanese are no ordinary people to wallow in desperation and lament over the untold cruelty that the nature has inflicted on them. They are the descendents of the “Samurai” who would face the gravest situation with undaunted courage and fight till their last breathe, not for their selfish ends but for the well-being of the society and of the nation. They are cowed down neither by the severity of the crisis nor by the enormity of the tasks ahead. They are the warriors who are duty-bound to safe-guard the nation and uphold its honour and self-sacrifice is a natural instinct of every Japanese to achieve this goal.
This trait of the “Samurai” is in amble display as the nation struggles to find a grip of its multifaceted problems in the aftermath of the Tsunami. Scores of engineers and technicians, with utter disregard to their own personal safety, are battling it out at the various nuclear plants to minimise radiation levels and to re-start their operations. Thousands of volunteers are on the streets in biting cold, looking for survivors and providing succour to millions, again putting behind their own safely and the need for minimum personal comfort. Many of these people are themselves shattered by the calamity and herein comes to fore the innate quality of putting the interest of the nation and its people first and foremost – the true characteristics of a “Samurai”.
Neither the earthquake of magnitude “9” on the Richter was powerful enough to shake or even to jolt the fundamental character of stealthy resolve of the Japanese nor the 33 feet high tsunami forceful enough to wash away the very distinctive spirit of communion and comradely among them. Again, the subsequent multitude infernos that blazed off and reduced to ashes all that it touched was not thermal enough even to bruise the mighty towers of national pride and purpose nor was the lethal radiation that spewed out of the ravaged nuclear plants penetrative enough to mutate the essential DNA of courage and industry of its people.
In the midst of all-round destruction and the prospect of a grim and hard life that lay ahead, it is the extraordinary sense of discipline and self-restraint of average Japanese that evokes awe and admiration the world around. He might be the one who lost all his dearest ones, whose home and belongings are turned to a heap of soaked rubble and the one to whom future stares blank – but he holds within himself the sorrows of grave personal loss and patiently waits in unending queues for his turn to get essential supplies. These are qualities not seen in lesser men and are a product of generations of idealism and again it is these qualities that erase any doubt in the minds of the world community on the capacity of the Japanese people to emerge out of this crisis. This sentiment of faith in its people is loudly echoed in the fast regaining values of the Japanese stocks the world over.
The world is truly humbled by the valour of this exceptional human race.
Also read http://chapter18.wordpress.com/2010/07/17/the-great-indian-stitch-less-garment/
Yours
Narayanan
Buy now and pay forever
The man at the cash counter extending his hand asked “Can I have your plastic please?” I had just made a few essential household purchases from the neighbourhood grocery shop and was waiting to make the payment. The plastic carry bag, which had the stuff picked up from the store, is already in front of him and I was, for a moment, lost to figure out the other plastic he was alluding to. “I mean your credit card, sir” his voice was demanding. “No. I am making the payment by cash” I indicated the mode of payment and counted out a few currency notes from my wallet and gave it to him. He gave me a glance that are most appropriately reserved for curious and near extinct animals in the zoo and bang opened the cash box to search for the various denominations of currency notes and few coins that he has to return to me as balance. As I hastily collected the strewn notes from the table and the small metal coins that dropped on to the floor raising tinkles, I wished I had used the credit card instead! I could have done the job without a whisper, even if I had dropped the plastic on to the floor!
The credit card is truly plastic not only by the material that it is made of, but by the way you can mould, mend and modify your payment options as you continuously indulge in unabashed purchases. You don’t have to have money to buy anything nor is it essential that you will have it later… as long as you have the plastic; you can live your life by the moment and on your own terms. Fitting effortlessly in our pockets, it frees those who have the money, from carrying cumbersome bundles of currencies and from the associate risk of losing them and bestows an aura of élan on the card holder. And for those who have got not even a nickel in their pocket, the card would never let them be wanting or inadequate. While it could be charismatic to flash the stylish card in swanky places, at times of emergency, the little thin plastic could be your saviour, bailing you out of awkward situations and conferring you peace, albeit temporarily, from financial worries. The card, for the various avatars it enacts, has come to occupy a place of predominance, both in our wallets and in our lives.
The digital world understands only the language of the plastic and with online business burgeoning, the usefulness of the card has only grown and grown exponentially. With it, you can instantaneously buy your travel tickets online, pay your utility bills, transfer monies to anybody across the globe, order that delicious pizza and download your favourite book in the e-format. The plastic is thus your gateway to the world of online mercantile and if you don’t possess one, you are effectively and comprehensively out of the expanding world of e-commerce that promises to be the single largest medium of business transactions in the immediate future. And it is in this virtual space that the card has made its transition from a luxury that one can conveniently do away with to an absolute necessity that one cannot do without.
But the very convenience of the card could easily turn out to be a dreadful nightmare when its use is not judiciously tempered and instead seen as a tool to satiate one’s impulsive instincts. And this is the trap that the credit card entices one to walk into without actually realising it and as many would have found out, one never really comes out of this debt trap without pulling up all the resources and the mental resolute to be out of it. Devoid of caution, one is bound to be in perpetual debt, paying off the partial bill, month after month, without ever really clearing it off in full. This is the price one pays when desires are let loose to maul without restraint and when happiness is sought to be achieved through materialistic possessions.
I am going to pay my mobile bill using my plastic. This time around it is my debit card.
Yours
Narayanan
Ignorance is no bliss
A recent survey conducted to test the level of general awareness among adult Americans revealed an alarmingly high degree of ignorance, ignorance of a few basic facts that even a primary school kid is expected to know. When asked to name a country that starts with the letter “U”, very many could not name the obvious – United States. While a few said “Yugoslavia” assuming that it might be starting with “U”, blissfully unaware that the country has long ceased to exist, many confidently gave the answer as “Utopia”! Rhyming with Ethiopia, they cannot be possibly faulted for presuming it as a country ducked somewhere in remote Africa and thus exhibiting the zenith of ignorance which is almost “Utopian” in perfection. Indians are the natives of Indiana, the number of sides a triangle could have is one or possibly none and the main religion of Israel is Israeli – these are some of the gems of profound knowledge that the well-educated, urbane Americans displayed. But if there was a prize for the bizarre answer, it would go to the youngster who, when asked as to tell the exact date of 9/11 incident, smartly and confidently replied “2nd October”!
And if a similar exercise is conducted among the educated and the upwardly mobile Indians, there would be startling revelations of the heights of ignorance we are capable of scaling that could make even the most absurd American answer, very insightful! While for large section of the population living in the Gangetic plain the language of South India is just one Madrasi, for many, there isn’t any geographical distinction between Andhra and Kerala. This ignorance easily extents from geography to national history and when a young man was asked to name the great grandfather of Rahul Gandhi, he quickly gave the most logical answer, Mahatma Gandhi !. The commonality of the surname could have prompted such a confident reply and again it is the commonality of sounds that makes communism and communalism inter-changeable and nationalism something as sweet as payasam. An Aryan is, at the best, the name of a feature film and Mohenjodaro, a rhyming word the super-star throws to woo “Ash” in the film “Robot”. All this at an age where sources like the Wikipedia provide instant and encyclopaedic information of any subject on earth!
Such a high level of ignorance borne out of total indifference towards acquiring a common standard of general awareness, which may not be of immediate relevance to every day existence, smacks at a larger malady which the societies the world-over are succumbing to. One may be highly proficient in one’s chosen field of activity and possess the skills to eke out a decent living, yet not to be informed enough about the country and the world one lives in, endangers the freedom and liberty that citizens the world over have gained through centuries of struggle. A lack of general awareness among the population can easily be manipulated by the powers that be to misrepresent facts and unleash a campaign of misinformation directed towards perpetuating an authoritarian regime or to fashion the public opinion that favours draconian laws. Large number of Americans, for instance, believed that it was Iraq who made the 11/9 attack thus legitimising the American invasion of that country in the public mind.
An informed and enlightened public is the surest guarantee to safeguard the time honoured values of freedom, liberty and justice and societies the world over have paid heavy prices for not conducting informed discourses that affect their lives and their futures. Any disinterestedness in the nation’s affairs could mortgage our fundamental rights leading to years of suppression and subjugation in the hands of unscrupulous rulers and would call for violent struggles to regain them. The recent events in many countries only point to this truth.
Yours
Narayanan
The heart of the matter
When we talk about the heart, it is mostly in reference to the romantic or to the medical. The heart is either stolen by that fairy-like culprit or it is attacked by the clogged cholesterol in the arteries and in matters of the heart, you are either a victim or a patient. When the heart is stolen, the victim searches for it in the eyes of the beloved and while it is attacked, the patient counters it with a stent if possible, or through a by-pass, if necessary. The heart can only be a lover’s cupid or a meaty organ, to be chivalrously won or to be medically fixed and there isn’t any other way we would possibly associate the heart with.
But we use the heart to express a variety of thoughts and a plethora of ideas which range from the mundane to the philosophical. Take the case of the heart attack for instance. The heart of the problem that causes this disease is the unregulated food habits coupled with a sedentary life-style and when this fact is recognised, we could take heart in the knowledge that the ailment could well be prevented. And once we realise that we need take charge of our habits, there is a change of heart in the way we approach our daily dietary routine and are off to a heart pounding exercise regimen. Sharing light hearted jokes and bursting to hearty laughs are the perfect recipes to bust the stress and keep the heart healthy. With a strong heart and an able body, we then begin to lead our lives to our heart’s content.
Though the heart is the centre of attraction, the romance is again not for the feeble hearted. For, to win the heart of the damsel, one has to display lion-hearted courage to dispel the challenges of the diehard relatives and pass the test that true love entails. Without this quality of the heart, one would only be heart-broken in his romantic voyage fit only to receive heartfelt condolences. Half-hearted attempts to achieve success in any enterprise would be disastrous and it is more so where hearts are involved.
But vastly different from these aspects, there is another attribute that we could associate only to the heart and that is its pristine quality of compassion. Heart in Sanskrit is “Hrudhaya” its meaning being the “seat of compassion” and, heart truly is the altar from where the milk of human kindness flows incessantly and in copious measure. On witnessing the suffering of other beings the heart melts instantaneously and rushes to provide succour and solace and it just does not distinguish or differentiate the recipient on any of the countless lines that the humans have invented to discriminate one from the other. Like the sun that cannot be separated from its light, it is in its very nature of the heart to love and to give and it needs no reason to do it.
It is this very quality of the heart that it is in direct conflict with that of the head. The heart seeks the warmth of love and the head works on cold calculation and when the heart trusts and believes, the head doubts and suspects. While the heart pours out selflessly defying all rationality, the head rationalizes every selfish demand and clothes it with cerebral justification. And it is in this fundamental contradiction that man, many a time, finds himself torn apart, unable to make the fine distinction between the voice of compassion and the clamour of logic. But listen he has to, if he were to make transformational decisions and that would happen only when he goes by the whispers of the heart.
And the lord too listens to the prayers of devotion only when it emanates from the heart that is filled with compassion and not when it is uttered from the head where doctrines and doubts clash.
Yours
Passing clouds and the spotless sky
The unblemished sky tinged in sapphire hue looked majestically pristine as the unfurled terrestrial canopy expanding across and beyond the horizons appeared spectacularly benevolent. Just as the aerial panorama seemed calm and serene, the sudden random streaks of lightning zigzagging over the zenith flashed out a hundred blinding illuminations while the roaring thunders that followed in quick successions threw the nature quickly into turbulent turmoil. The stray winds metamorphosed into gathering storms and whistled past with unreasonable fury and the laden clouds rolled over each other to turn into heaps of dark monsters frighteningly usurping the overhead skies. Sparingly scattering tiny droplets of silver quickly gave way to sheets of torrential downpour and with it the fields submerged, habitats flooded and rivers breached their banks to inundate vast stretches of fertile land. In that unrelenting frenzy, the elements enveloped the sky above and the land below and merged into one single expanse of all-around devastation!
And as the storms petered, the rains thinned and the rivers quietened to return to their original courses, the sky once again presented a picture of tranquil beauty unfazed by the violent eruptions that were, not so long ago, played over its canvas. However intense and tumultuous the weather patterns are, the sky would not allow itself to be marred by the scars of the activities that are staged over it. Essentially integral yet aloof and distant, it is a host to a myriad terrestrial spectacle and yet remains a silent and unconcerned witness on the backdrop. A detachment only matched in its magnificence by its own grandeur.
This awesome disinterestedness to the surrounding cacophony and the stunning calmness amid clamouring chaos is a compelling lesson in detachment worthy of emulation for man too is buffeted, just as the skies, by the avalanche of unsettling experiences that trigger emotional upheavals on an untrained mind. And just as the sky doesn’t get affected by every passing cloud, man too should seek to be free from the pulls of his fanciful thoughts and remain just a witness to the unending cascade of emotions that surge within him, one after the other. And in this voyage towards attaining the state of stillness where the innate brilliance of the self does not fickle with every sundry emotion, the stately aloofness of the lotus flower is yet another guidepost. Though blooming and blossoming on marshy waters and drawing sustenance therein, the lotus does not inherit an iota of the repulsive traits of its habitation but instead, exudes an invigorating freshness that elevates even the stature of pond that it is embellished in. We too need to be of our environs yet not part of them and it is only in such an extolled position of detachment could we aspire to explore our true self.
But rather than picking a leaf from the University of Nature, man, like that cotton shred which gets tossed up by every whiff of air only to land and roll aimlessly, allows himself to drift directionless by his unregulated thoughts and uncontrolled emotions. And akin to the deer caught in the net of the merciless hunter, he gets fearfully enmeshed in the entrancing temptations of the worldly variety moving far away from the source of all his vitality- a dreadful reality!
And all this could be reversed only when he let go his clinched possessiveness and engrained prejudices and choose to embrace the unsullied state of nothingness. For in that nothingness is hidden the seeds of everything.
Yours
Narayanan
Space it right
A mystery that kept me in wonderment during my childhood days was the rhythmic gaps between the railings of a locomotive track. When it’s all supposed to a pair of straight lines, the purpose of a deliberate space between two blocks of rails was too overwhelming a puzzle for my little mind to comprehend. In a pre-internet era where “goggle a question” was still not an option, I had to wait till middle school before a considerate science teacher would unravel the secret of this disconnect to me. The heat generated during the summer days, the teacher explained, caused the iron rods to expand and these gaps provided the space for them to safely elongate. Without these gaps the rails would get buckled in and would seriously jeopardise the track. As the space between the rails are crucial, so also the need of it to be of an exact measure for, the teacher reasoned, any un-wanted space could equally be detrimental when trains passing over them could skid over on a slippery day. The space, and an exact one at that, made all the difference for a safe train journey.
The concept of right spacing finds definite expression in the growth and maturing of many species on our planet. When the saplings are planted uniformly with sufficient space for each one of them to strike root and branch out, they grow up to become fruit bearing trees. And when smaller plants are inter-spaced with bigger and larger ones, they nourish one another thus providing a rich and varied harvest. But when an odd tree grows up to a monstrous size by spreading it veins deep under the soil and suck out the nutrients all for itself, even blades of grass would scarcely sprout under it. It’s in the very nature of elements to flourish where the avenues to expand are abundant.
This significance of the space expands into the horizons of human affairs as well as to the words we use to convey them. With the right measure of freedom and the creative liberty to experiment and explore, we find our children grow up to become well-rounded human beings capable and willing to take responsibilities in life. Once the relationships with our children are based on sound emotional bonding and not separated by the gulf of selfish agendas and are nourished through proper ties, they would become priceless properties to be cherished for a life-time. And when we confer sufficient space for each one of them to grow, expand and express themselves in myriad ways, we could together find true happiness previously found nowhere, blossom now here. To be loved by our beloved ones we should bridge our hearts and soak them with and in true understanding so that our relationships shine forth within.
But such a freedom and liberty should be regulated and moderated through a benign form of discipline and restriction. While the goats and other cattle could mow down and eat up an unguarded and unfenced sapling, the same cattle would come back once the guarded sapling grows up to become a full grown tree seeking, this time, its shade and shelter for rest and re-past. In the same way, we need to guard and guide our children through appropriate moderations so that they grow up to become worthy citizens.
For all these to fructify, the right space is of utmost importance.
Regards
Narayanan
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