tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44488025338256154902024-02-19T21:16:31.980+05:30MusingsMUSINGSanilkurup59http://www.blogger.com/profile/07961961217418715354noreply@blogger.comBlogger417125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4448802533825615490.post-57155434080992241472021-09-03T09:40:00.001+05:302021-09-03T09:40:34.388+05:30OLD Town BY THE SEA<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIB7QiYTDWQbcDvgbKA1yJZVxp5_D97DJ_zL5FWN4Mt6Quy_6j8JtOUtIo4prRPF1ZZazUtxDThLQ0HKDHDt9GTfq9xcWmW8teSWXOOZGy2hFJTTYKcPd1z0Wuv3RJD7al5y38bMPR1UeB/s720/Palolem-Beach-a-distant-view-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="473" data-original-width="720" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIB7QiYTDWQbcDvgbKA1yJZVxp5_D97DJ_zL5FWN4Mt6Quy_6j8JtOUtIo4prRPF1ZZazUtxDThLQ0HKDHDt9GTfq9xcWmW8teSWXOOZGy2hFJTTYKcPd1z0Wuv3RJD7al5y38bMPR1UeB/s320/Palolem-Beach-a-distant-view-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Those days I lived with my husband’s parents in
their ancestral home in the village. A tiny hamlet tucked up a couple of
kilometers from the sea - the way the crow flew, and dotted with coconut palms,
Jack, Cashew and Mango trees. An old town and serene little place by the sea! A
17th century Portugese construct church and not far away a Devi temple stood as
symbols of social amity, if I may. I wondered why my husband’s parents chose to
settle down in that place where they were but only about half dozen families
from their own Muslim community.Nevertheless my father-in law turned out to be
a succesfull business man and highly respected human being.No one noticed or
cared that he always sported a skull cap or well groomed goatty beard,and
unfailingly went to the ancient little masjid for five namaz each day, and they
were not used to identify his faith then. They were personal, peripheral and
incosnpicuous. My father- in-law was simply Kochukunju Musaliar to the village
folks. Nothing more nothing less!There were no muizins balaring out through
loud speakers, and the six families took turns to announce the call for prayer.
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The gulf boom brought with it migaration
and</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">today we see quite a few neo rich
Muslims who bought land in the village and flaunting their petro-dollar wealth
. That also brought with it a new mosque and its fancy and unaesthetic ornamentaion.
How could they resist being content with an ancient Masjid that is as spartan,nondescript
and silent though an enduring symnbol like the ancinet temple or the gothic
church?. My father- in- law’s objection to having muizins announce prayers
through a loud speaker was ignored. They shouted down his question why a loud
speaker, a prochronism during the Prophet’s time</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">when the purists insit life must be pedantic
to the dictations of the Koran and the Hadith. The Gulf money spoke and they
funded the new mosque.</span></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">That goes about as the introduction to the old
town near the sea.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">As a dutiful daughter-in-law I chose to stay
back with my husband’s parents , while he worked in the city about hundred
kilometers away and came home over weekends.The little place with its laid back
life and perenially flowing river - its waters gleaming like silver in the mid
morning sun, the dragon flies and colourful butterflies, the birds flaunting
their musical notes, the street dogs who wag their tails vigorously and
followed you,the dense sacred grove near the temple which is awe to me and erie
to a few,the gentle ring of temple bells at dusk announcing deeparadhana, and
the spirit of Christ that I could see on the ancient church, all, were too dear
to leave behind for a city life.My love for my husband was not less than the love
for the old town by the sea. But it may </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">have seem wiered for few others.He, my spouse
was happy I took care of his parents and I eagerly awaited his return on
weekneds, though we both </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">missed each
other on many other days.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I have the habit of going out for walk
immediately after sunrise ,something that which I carried from my schooling
days in the Jesuist school in Ootty. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The
gentle nip in the morning air was plesant and I did not notice him, until he, a
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">man of about 70 caught up with me. He
was a bit short of breath and may have been trying to catch up with my brisk
walking. I have</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">often spoted him stand
at the gate of the house near the post-office, its façade reeking with Gulf
money.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“ Haa young woman , I haven’t noticed you in
these parts. Are you a vistor here?”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">I smiled like I would to an elderly acquaintace
or relative and said, “No, I live here.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">His avancular expression was<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>noticeable. “ Oh, old man that I’m do not
remember seeing you. By the way which household dear?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">“I’m Kochukunju Musaliar’s daughter in law.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Oh , oh I see, I see. Pardon me my dear. I was
living in my ancestoral home in Ranni and after the partition my nephews threw
me out, ungraetful scoundrels you see.The had no qualms in telling me. ‘Ouseph
velliappa now get out. You have nothing to do here.’ Luckily Clara is in
Kuwait, ye she is a nurse- you see , my son’s wife and she bought 15 cents land
and build this house for me and</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Chackochi. We moved in a few years ago. Haa,</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I get it, now, and your husband did not join
you for </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">the morning? Lazing in bed young
fellow, tired of the night’ acrobatics , I guess.” He made a chuckle and winked
while he said that.I did not notice that he had managed to arrest my walk.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">“No, my husband works in the town and comes
back only on weekends.”I said feeling a liitle awkward.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Oh , goodnes, save this girl holy Mary mother
of God.” He looked heavenward and then he continued. “How<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>unkind of your husband to leave you an young
woman alone here!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">“ No, no, I’m not alone, I live with my father
and mother-in-law.I take care of them.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“ No, no, dear. That is unfair. An young woman,will
have fantsaies and goodness me,now see you can enjoy the nuptial bliss only a
day or so in a week.! Good Lord how do you manage my dear?” He winked and
chuckled.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">I was quite uneasy and was swiftly on guard.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">“What?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Ha, Oh you know what I mean. The acrobatics
with your husband can happen only over weekends. That is a pity dear.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I was incensed , I ignored him and began to
walk fast as I could. Surprisingly he was abreast of me.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">“ Dear how do you tolerate this unkindness..
you see if female vagina is untouched for long it sews up tight<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>naturally.” He winked again and the repulsive
chuckle followed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">I stopped and turned looking him in the eyes. ”
Look, stranger. I do not know you, and do not care to know either.Now, what is
your problem here? It is my life and my privacy. You shouldn’t be concerned
about it let alone come up to me from nowhere , ask such outrageous questions
and make unsolicited suggestions.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Dear , dear . Did I offend you. Just see it as
an avancular concern of this old man Ouseph.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Do you know this is stalking and what can
happen to you if I report this? Please stay away , there are people to be
concerened about me. I do not need you.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I walked fast more in anger and utterly
annoyed. How dare he come up and strike such conversation. Ouspeh, He said! I went
past the Church and worshippers were walking out after the mass. I stopped, and
looked back.I turned towards the street leading to my home.I was panting and
exhausted more out of seething anger.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Standing under the shower , cold well water
flowing over me, it did little to calm my annoyance and nerves. I barely
managed to eat an iddly and even before my mother- in-law could ask something I
was out on the street walking towards the church. I gate crashed into the small
parish meeting.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">“ I want to talk to the priest - the Father? “I
said breathlessly.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">It was then that I noticed that it was the same
old man Ouseph I was addressing. That group of a dozen parishshoners, looked t
me with curioisty. I repeated my demand<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>with firmness. “ Where is the Father. I want to speak to him.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Oh my dear young woman, what brings Kochukunju
Muslaiar’s daughter in law in to this church?” said a parishoner.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“ I want to speak to the Priest? “ I repeated .</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“My dear girl, Father has retired to his
chambers after the morning mass. If there is something we can do for you dear ,
tell us.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“I can stay put, till he is back”. I moved and
fell into a vaccant chair.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The more I think of</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">the morning and that old man’s smirkfull face
, I began to shiver with anger. I woke up from a trance when a warm hand fell on
my shoulders and my chin was lifted . Mariamma Chettathi was looking into my
eyes quite concerned.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">“ What is it my little girl. Fathima’s daughter
in law is mine too. What ails you? If there is something we could do, we should
not wait fror the priest.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“But how
could that be so? She is not a parishoner. And non parishoner <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>that too from another community sitting here
itself is not appropriate.” That was one Sebastin Muthalali who<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>has the<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>department store in the village. He<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>returned from Kuwait a few years ago.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Thangal Kunju Muslaiar’s daughter in law need
not be member of the parish. For all these years this church has enjoyed all
his benevolence. Mariamma chettathi ask her if we could do something for her.”
An elderly man intoned and silenced Sebastin muthalali.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I told
them what happened in the morning. But by then he old man Ouseph had sneaked
away.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">“ I want the Father to be present. I’ll wait
for him or I will<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>go to the police.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">The alatar man<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>a lean scrawny figure shouted from the door to the priest’s chamber . “
Atchan has gone to town. He left a few minutes ago. Won’t be back till late
evening.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">“ Haa that is not surprising. He must have
sneaked out hearing all this.When has the Father ever handled an issue. Is it
not his creed to escape such situations.” Mariamma Chettathi was candid.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">“ Koche, don’t you know it is common for men to
pass lighthearted comments? If you begin to take up every word and utterances
there will be no time left in a day to pursue other important matters.” I did
not care to see who among that motely group said that. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">“ Mariamma Chettathi will you come with me to
the man’s house?” <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">I asked<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>and soon a small group volunteered to join me, albeit reluctantly and
after strong persuasion from Mariamma Chettathi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Sebastin Muthalllali said he had to open up his
store and cannot be wasting time on frivilous</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">matters. “ My girl think twice before making these little</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">issues big. Won’t do any good to your family
honour and pride. Besides the matter will blow up</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">into issue between two communities. You may
have to bear the brunt.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Yes , girls should not be this obstinate .
This is arrogance. Let these things pass.” I looked towards the man who said
that, and he cast his eyes down not meeting my gaze.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The small group walked to Ouseph’s house. As we
entered the gates we could se the old man reclining in his chair on the
verandha reading the morning news paper.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">A man of about 40 came out<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>smiling . “ Yes, yes welcome welcome the
parish committee is out early today on fund collection I suppose.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">“ Nothing to do with fund collection. It is
about Appachan, your father.”The elderly man in the group announced.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">“What about him?” asked the son, a bit curious
and surprised.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">I moved to the verandha and said.” Appacha why
don’t you please come out for a moment?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ouseph
timidly looked at me and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>cast his eyes
down and without looking at me he muttered feebly “What my dear girl? What can
I do for you?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">“ Appacha. Now why don’t you tell<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>these folks what you spoke to me this
morning?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">“My girl, I’m old as your grandfather.”I could
barely hear him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Yes Appacha. That is what stopped me back from
slapping you, your age.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">“ Ha Ousephe, is it true what she says? Surely
you know why we all are here.All said and done , what you said to her was too
gross. You ought to have thought about the holy sacrament you take<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>before being so offensive and indecent and
that to a girl who is just as old as your grand child. Shameful!” <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“ Oh yes
daily, this Appachan passes sleazy comments at me. I told my husband but he is
always asking me to ignore it and not make an issue.” The middle aged woman who
made that observation then</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">glanced at
her husband and a teenage girl who were curiously watching the proceedings from
the neighbouring house ,across the compund wall.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">“ See that is what embolden people like this appachan.
Your husband ought to be ashamed. Don’t you folks have a girl child growing up?
Will he<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>advise the same to her when
someone tries this on her?” I could see the man’s head from<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>over the compound wall go down, and the
expressionless face of his daughter. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Ouseph , it won’t help if you sit quiet like
this. Tell yes or no if what this girl says are true.” The senior in the group
said.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ouseph
was sitting expressionless both palms supporting his head, his eyes cast
down.Obviously unable to meet our eyes. That pitful <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>image seemed to be melting my fury inside, I
could not but pity that miserable old creature. He sat there like a cornored
old stag, its antlers broke and hanging.I turned to the son said, “ Chetta ,
who else is with Appachan besides you?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“ What
has that got to do with this drama ?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">“ Old age and lonliness Chetta. You have
avenues to entertain and make merry, obviously friends too. But think of the
old . There is no one to talk to , to express their feelings , some banter and
fun.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">”Koche what are you trying to tell? I don’t
take care of my father?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">“ Chetta , please do not be presumptuous. Did I
say so?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">“Then what. Clara sends bank draft every month.
She sends it in his name , she dosen’t trust me<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>with money , that stupid woman. Every day, three or four times he can
have sumptuous food. Every day mutton , beef and fish. He even gets brandy
bottles twice a month from town. He has televison and cable. What more should I
give a parent. You folks can easily conclude . I<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>take care of my father very well. Now don’t
expect me to sit by his feet and massage all day.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“ Chetta
. Appachan’s silence itself tells the story of what he said, what happened this
morning and how he spends each day. See this Chechi too has her story to tell.
Who knows how many other folks will have similar embarrassments! It is is your
parent. It is only kindness and gratitude if you undesrtood their feelings and
old age. I’ve nothing more to say.” And I turned and walked.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">He shouted
behind me.“ Koche, you see it is quite natural for men to crack some jokes.
Women must be able to laugh it away.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“ Haa, all hear wonderful son !” Mariamma
Chettathi hollored more in angush and anger.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">He continued.“I see you</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">folks are determined to slander my father.
When some stupid, mad woman brought up a</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">false story about my father the whole parish thought it fit to come
along. How can you be not sure that this woman</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">did not court my father. After all he type of women are capable of
enticing and enchanting</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">decent men, even
old men. I won’t be surprised if she did that. Look at</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">what she wears.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">I almost lost my bearings ,I stopped in my
track and gathering my wit I moved up to him – glaring and looking him in the
eye, I said. “ Yes, you can call me a slut. Isn’t that the easiest way of
defense you men know. I have been warned that if I make<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>an issue of this it will hurt me , my
respectability and family’s status. So be it. Brother, I understand your wife
works in the Gulf<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and sends you money so
that you and this Appachan could built this bungalow and live merrily. Did your
Appachan not tell you that if your wife did not have regular sex , her vagina
might get sewed up naturally? He warned me this morning.So better take care my
friend.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I turned
around and walked back leaving behind a thrilled Marimma Chettathi as I could
see from her face, and obviously a stunt son. The rest of the group may have
stared at my receding figure. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script>linkwithin_text='Your custom text:'</script></div>anilkurup59http://www.blogger.com/profile/07961961217418715354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4448802533825615490.post-41484228794936936692021-09-01T13:49:00.006+05:302022-10-17T09:50:15.229+05:30House of Dark Shadows<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhceEd-8iuTcFcOG4nRywbhkGdcZwG8WoBOVHMIbD2Xye7JqULcvywDP62rbveHvzboM4R2QVTWkR1YZy36rgeC-0q5hG3vMB61iX9diAoStnE-GCQ6_TJzn8IZqEEo-pdOp_UV_liMBkd4/s1379/241054500_10220644128233279_5052350384036220032_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1379" data-original-width="1074" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhceEd-8iuTcFcOG4nRywbhkGdcZwG8WoBOVHMIbD2Xye7JqULcvywDP62rbveHvzboM4R2QVTWkR1YZy36rgeC-0q5hG3vMB61iX9diAoStnE-GCQ6_TJzn8IZqEEo-pdOp_UV_liMBkd4/s320/241054500_10220644128233279_5052350384036220032_n.jpg" width="249" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Every child growing up
is fed with eerie stories of the supernatural and the shadows of the dark. So
was I. I remember a few oldies and a bunch of cousins during those vacation
sojourns in Ambalapuzha douse me with blood chilling and frightening tales of
yakshis, witches, and spirits.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";"><span style="font-size: medium;">It was utterly
horrifying to walk the narrow and deserted pathways at night even if there were
adults for company. The pale lights of the incandescent bulbs atop street light
poles seem to provide more shadow than light. When one pass by the holy groves
at night a frightening sense of foreboding gripped every muscle. Often we use
to sprint muttering holy names. Dark and lonely rooms in the house were another
area where one was quite likely to confront a ghost or spirit of an old grand
uncle, or a hunchback grand- aunt. Chairs and bed by the windows were carefully
avoided after dark. Those days in the village, toilets were either outside the
house or one had to take leak in the open under the moonlit sky, or often under
the starless dark sky. The choice was between nudging awake elder cousins who
were familiar with the place to come along as escort so one could relieve
outside by the mango tree and that was a thankless effort. They curled deeper
under their sheets. Then holding one’s bladder full and almost bursting,
counting minutes and moments of the night, glancing about for moving shadows,
lying terrified until streak of daylight wafted through the mullioned windows….!
Elder cousins always scared me a city born with eerie tales. I felt they even relished
the vicarious pleasure gained from utter consternation I felt at night. The
occasional hoot of an owl, the bark of a dog, or just the fanciful dance
shadows played, would send my heart thumping that even the ghost lurking in the
shadows could hear it. Urine would lose direction and force and wet the nicker.
And in the haste to get back to the comparative comfort of indoors, drops of
urine would drip down my inner thighs. The yakshi was surely prowling outside!
Was it the ghost of the dead grand uncle who watched with amber like eyes in
the dark from the sacred grove? Or of that woman in the neighbourhood who died
of snake bite? The occasional shrieks and yelling of gibberish by the lunatic
namboothiri in the nearby illam where he lived with his octogenarian mother would
waft through the still night, not helping to relieve in comfort.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Well, growing up and I
remember the late evening- walking back one day after watching the film “House
of Dark Shadows”. Every few steps I turned back to look behind. Later, reading
the Dracula of Bram Stalker, on a Sunday late afternoon and sitting frozen in
the chair unable to move but roving over sentences after sentences, page after page,
often ceasing breathing I did not realize it was dark. That was in our apartment
in Kochi. My fellow house mates were all away for the weekend and it was me
alone and Count Dracula for company. I was even scared to move from the chair
to switch on the light. I preferred to strain my eyes in the fading light, than
move a limb. Soon it was very dark, but for the streaks of rays from the street
light at the gate. Oh behold, it was 7 and off went the street light - it was
load shedding for thirty minutes. One of those moments when the resolve to be
an atheist was not helpful!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";"><span style="font-size: medium;">Fear of the dead! The
dead are sure to be about as ghosts and would often wreck vengeance. The
carried their animosity to their afterlife said old stories. Once dead they did
not take disobedience and past acts of rudeness towards them with levity. That
was an awfully dire and unkind narrative put into my head right from early
childhood. I wished and hoped no one died at home or among friends and relatives.
For the dead even for no reason can remember be our nemesis. Even as recently,
a tragic death of a friend’s son would disturb me. That was because the boy was
close to me, he liked me much. Some nights, immediately during the days after
his passing I would even wonder if he was about near me, about my cot. Dark
rooms at night were always places the dead can pounce upon you - the grim
reminders of my cousins rang in my ears!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";"><span style="font-size: medium;">When Amma died, and I
spent almost a year alone in the house after her passing, strangely that fear
was not felt. Sometimes I wished she confronted me and I could straighten with
her things left undone and not spoken. Well the confidence was there, she may
come as ghost or spirit but cannot hurt me, won’t hurt me! Even the mother
ghost can be yelled at, argued with, shouted at and why not? Mothers would
understand, unlike grand uncles, and hunchback aunts. The confidence I felt was
often amusing, or was it comforting?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";"><span style="font-size: medium;">I still hope some of
them who were close to us would come by one of those dark lonely nights for a
chat. Perhaps help us even out things left undone and unspoken!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";"><span style="font-size: medium;">It is an amusing thought.
I can only laugh about myself.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";"><span style="font-size: medium;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script>linkwithin_text='Your custom text:'</script></div>anilkurup59http://www.blogger.com/profile/07961961217418715354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4448802533825615490.post-80749316373015572892021-08-08T11:47:00.001+05:302021-08-08T11:47:32.346+05:30The Burnt Soul<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal">The chap was timid. He was made to become one. How else could
he be different when he was directed by quite a few self obsessed adults? When
you are always lorded over and are the victim of patriarchal diktats, along
with insensitive women folks who pulled at your hair, lucky if nothing worse happened
and one did not got lost. He almost was! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh a forgetful childhood!</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Some days even after many years, the smell of books from the
British Council Library wafts into the fellow’s nostrils.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those rainy evenings and the incessant downpour
came handy to create an alibi for being late back home and the British Council
Library served as refuge. The James Leasor’s, and the Maurice Proctor’s <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>exchanged their plots with him; when the<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>books on cricket and the classic photographs
in them took him across the seas , land and mountains to the cricket grounds of
distant Old Blighty . He met the Bronte’s, Dickens and the rest later though. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The annual subscription for juniors was a
paltry five Rupees; there was animated discussion among the despots back home
about the wisdom of letting him, a little boy go to the library. Consider the
possibilities of the chap becoming friendly with undesirable company and going astray!</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It was while in the middle school days when he first tasted
Enid Blyton. Blyton was then the initiator into good English language and a wizard
in snaring kids into the habit of reading and knowing. The Secret Sevens and
the Famous Five where mostly endearing to boys and girls hung with Mallory
Towers while little older ones with, “they walked into the sunset, hand in hand”,
genre of Barbara Cartland and Mills & Boon. However Blyton books where hard
to come by and often listed borrowed. That was when the irresistible urge to
not just read them, but possess them became quite an infatuation in the fella.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Every day, the book store en route to school beckoned and
Enid Blyton smiled at discerning kids from in there. Ruling out the idea not to
plead with the despots back home to buy those books was simply a foregone
wisdom. They never would, after all Rs 1.50 was a heck of a sum for book and
what a waste it was to buy one! The Blyton and the Famous Five kids along with
the Secret Sevens were impossibly irresistible. That was when unwittingly and unbeknownst
to the fella Naxal ideology loomed about suggesting a possible solution. The
early 70’s were the era of Naxalite actions! When the haves do not provide you,
the have-nots must wrench it out. So he did. Filched from one of the despots the
‘million amount of Rs 1.50’, then with pride and immense satisfaction bought
the first of the Famous Five oeuvre. Like <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the pleasant soothing of Marijuana , Blyton
possessed him and what else was the recourse but keep sneaking in and lift <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rs 1.50<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>and buy<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>another when he had
devoured the earlier one. Then another; then another; and then again another! Lo
behold the 21 editions of the Famous Five and the nine Secret Sevens were safely
locked up in a mystery corner in the house. The dire consequence of despots
stumbling on them was a looming nightmare and possibility. Every day he surreptitiously
managed to open the wooden box and feel them all over , smell their pages and
get transported to the environ Blyton so vividly painted. How one wished one
was born there and not in this dark, cold, insensitive and coercive place!</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like all good things ill-gotten,
the books were soon found out and the question rose how and from where that
collection, bundle of new books came to him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Alibis where weak because the pages smelt new and someone decided
further investigations were required. Let the Great Dictator come back home,
the inquisition shall begin. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Desperate times call for desperate and cruel short
circuiting. He sneaked up to the terrace with those books and poured kerosene
on them and watched painfully each character in them waft into the air carried
by the wind and smoke. Soon there was no trace of the books but a palm full of messy,
dark ash. A funeral pyre would not evoke so much tearing of the soul as those
burning books did that day.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script>linkwithin_text='Your custom text:'</script></div>anilkurup59http://www.blogger.com/profile/07961961217418715354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4448802533825615490.post-87233742610014357352021-01-12T14:51:00.003+05:302021-01-12T14:51:27.482+05:30I'm a Farmer<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieDIOM9lbNJR2iWahWYAGDoMr130iHQXgefKDcvczwmkOOnHuTrbtUi7hDPln4g4tOBwetOlaUP548UQ8kgxQtN61ACXa6B7jjkiozvTN38nd0UCbm0uJhgHjSPQQiwuPuXR6ug5EXe_NA/s2048/00100dPORTRAIT_00100_BURST20201230163525950_COVER+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1482" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieDIOM9lbNJR2iWahWYAGDoMr130iHQXgefKDcvczwmkOOnHuTrbtUi7hDPln4g4tOBwetOlaUP548UQ8kgxQtN61ACXa6B7jjkiozvTN38nd0UCbm0uJhgHjSPQQiwuPuXR6ug5EXe_NA/s320/00100dPORTRAIT_00100_BURST20201230163525950_COVER+%25282%2529.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p>What one can see from a commoner's perspective is that perhaps the Supreme Court did not go into the constitutional validity of the Farm Laws because primafacie they may not have seen anything ultra vires of the constitution and could not strike down the Farm Laws hence opted to stay it till further orders.</p><p>But at the same time on what grounds did the Court stay the Farm Laws? And if they did so to facilitate the committee they propose which will go into the issue, why not then ask the government to repeal it rather? Staying the implementation of the law in itself reflects the Court’s acknowledgement of its obnoxious and egregious nature.</p><p>When the Court observed the government did not have consultations on the Bills with all stake holders before ramming it through Parliament, does it not tell us the Bills are bad in law? Why then is the decision to stay and not order the repeal?</p><p>Is it beginning to tell us something is "rotten in the State of Denmark "?</p><p>The Chief justice timidly observed yesterday that the Farmers may not trust them, but they are the Supreme Court. If the Court finds itself in an unenviable position as this where the trust deficit in the Court is at its nadir, there is no one to blame but the Court itself, and the men in robes who occupy the haloed seats.</p><p>The Chief Justice suggesting that the elderly and women participating in the protest must go back, may be as some say a ruse to facilitate the ground for the government to unleash its muscles on the protesting farmers.</p><p>Never, in post independent India, and not even during the Indira reign running up to the Emergency infamy have we looked at Courts with sceptical eyes as we now do. Court decisions and subterfuges over the past three to four years do not lend any credence to trust the Judiciary either. A sad state indeed!</p><p>What is astonishing insistence of the Court is that the Farmer unions should be participating in the deliberations of the committee. The farmers rightly fear they would be led up the garden path of a Supreme Court nominated expert committee, and once they commit to it they may have no recourse when some alibi is used to vacate the stay on the Farm bills albeit with some cosmetic changes.</p><p>I think we are in for a long haul which may either end in unpleasant and the knell for Modi government, or the complete bludgeoning of the farmers by the government, where we may see the Supreme Court like Pontius Pilate washing its hands of the blood of India’s food givers.</p><p>If this sounds cynical, I could not help, but I earnestly wish I’m wrong.</p><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script>linkwithin_text='Your custom text:'</script></div>anilkurup59http://www.blogger.com/profile/07961961217418715354noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4448802533825615490.post-23127624854916904052020-08-26T10:37:00.001+05:302020-08-26T10:37:36.239+05:30Hanuman Pandaram<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTkbWP4eSU2v3vjg9GtwOtoSQuHy3YWa5WdQRWJppHvKfna9fvmrFqMqITr9wTedVsB1M7iZzW_omD_NHPK4UdWH3VuTbqzPa7GwQt3Kc8f41_NxfIRm6fzb3sSy5svbdgfCBDKvG-LL_b/s280/pandaram.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="280" data-original-width="233" height="350" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTkbWP4eSU2v3vjg9GtwOtoSQuHy3YWa5WdQRWJppHvKfna9fvmrFqMqITr9wTedVsB1M7iZzW_omD_NHPK4UdWH3VuTbqzPa7GwQt3Kc8f41_NxfIRm6fzb3sSy5svbdgfCBDKvG-LL_b/w291-h350/pandaram.jpg" width="291" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"> </span></span>When I was little, children were fed the story of a
bogeyman. Recalcitrant, annoying, and clamant children were told about a
certain man called ‘hanuman pandaram’ who would appear from nowhere and does
bizarre dance moves before he plucks you and vanishes, never to come back. The
fear was telling when we were told that the distant sound of a gong was warning
his arrival. Eventually, he did come one day and many times thereafter, which
told me that the poor soul was a harmless hunched mendicant who did a monkey
dance wearing a grotesque looking mask resembling the primate god- the
proverbial “hanuman”. He quietly retreated collecting alms.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">When I recollect those days, I can tell the fright the story
of ‘hanuman pandaram’ aroused in us. But it must have helped many parents to
arrest and control their children.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I can liken that fear of Hanuman –pandaram with the
scaremongering of the Modi led malice about Muslims and minorities. Like then,
when the purpose was served- kids could be controlled and brought to heel,
today, the population and societies have been effectively divided and
suspicions writ large. The Hindutva agenda has been smoothly accomplished.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Growing up and now after more than half the life span gone
by, I cannot for a moment recollect one instance where I was hounded or
discriminated against, only because I was born Hindu. It amuses me to hear
people parrot what has been fed to them, that the Hindu is under threat in his
own country. I dare one person of my age or even younger to come forward and
clarify what exactly is the threat he or she faced.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As a kid I went to temples, vied to be in the forefront of
the jostling and elbowing devotees so that I could ring the temple bells when
the priests threw open the doors of the sanctum of Sanctorum; as a child, I
could even go into the chapel in the school and observe nuns kneeling down with
piety in prayer and with pity I would gaze at the crucified Christ, then wonder
about the saints and the frescos that adorned the chapel. No one forced me to attend
catechism classes in school. When I was in my teens I could, and out of my own
volition begin to question the frivolity of supplicating to Gods and even
forever put stop to temple going as a devotee. And to grow up as a person
exhibiting free will, thought and decisions, (albeit certainly a rebel), is a
unique experience which takes a little bit of resolve. Fortunately, I wasn’t
too bad with that! I did not see the need to question or worry about the
church-going friends or Abdul Harris –the school mate who even confessed and
showed us to our amusement and wonder his circumcised penis. That did not make
us feel he was different. We would eagerly wait for the Christmas cake from a
friend of my grandfather, and that arrived unfailingly on every Xmas eve.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Where was the threat to me? Later, not even to my children
who had their entire schooling as boarders run by St. Georges Homes in Ooty. It
was our decision to write to the school principal that we had no objection in
our children attending holy mass on Sundays at the school chapel. Mercifully
“love jihad” or “holy crusades” had not arrived in Kerala when I broke ranks
and married a catholic and it is (32 years to the date on August 23, tomorrow).<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My Hindu-ness has not worn out or diminished, whatever that may
be. But fortunately, by not fretting to know what it was and not caring to
safeguard that mirage, it gave immense peace that no Gods or places of worship
can give. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Yes, twice in my life and both occasions in my early teens I
was stalked, accosted, and cajoled to convert. First by the local RSS Sakha
bosses and then by the neighbourhood senior who along with the then SFI leader
showed up at my gate to enroll me as an active SFI member.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The former was strangely abhorrent even then and the latter
not inspiring enough.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script>linkwithin_text='Your custom text:'</script></div>anilkurup59http://www.blogger.com/profile/07961961217418715354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4448802533825615490.post-69571072459365166182020-06-13T10:41:00.001+05:302020-06-13T10:41:59.374+05:30Lieutenant General .R.Gopal<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8P-hHocu_iriaXinaH_nAvUFCd6UgFYDD7YbTpjGF2o4Em3Lpojfx4KeKxyWdp4X6ZnOfZphvrrB78CPw8rgpFWePtHkZWvQvXX_7L72dzZrB3y4mrBD0OhpXoFVnWLH9ZNDPaRXyWinu/s1600/Lt+Gen+Gopal+2+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8P-hHocu_iriaXinaH_nAvUFCd6UgFYDD7YbTpjGF2o4Em3Lpojfx4KeKxyWdp4X6ZnOfZphvrrB78CPw8rgpFWePtHkZWvQvXX_7L72dzZrB3y4mrBD0OhpXoFVnWLH9ZNDPaRXyWinu/s320/Lt+Gen+Gopal+2+2.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It has been a long ride on the road for many of us in the
decades that went by after college. A rollercoaster to me personally. But what
gives immense pleasure is when you see close friends go up the road, steadily,
and (it may seem) effortlessly. The pleasure, the satisfaction one gets to see
friends scaling heights in their career is so immense that you must love it to
feel it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One such mate is leaving the Indian Army today. Another
bloke will retire from the State Bank of India tomorrow as the Chief General
Manager. KT.Ajith the bibliophile, quintessential Kannur leftist liberal (if I
may) who cast away what could have also have been a promising career as a
Chartered Accountant and joined the SBI mid-stream.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But Lieutenant General Gopal.R UYSM, AVSM, SM of the 8
Gorkha Rifles stands out. Lieutenant General R Gopal held the reins of the
prestigious Spear Corps. Spear Corps is one of the largest and operationally
active Corps of the Indian Army and headquartered in Dimapur, Nagaland.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Lieutenant General Gopal R, (Retired) is an alumnus of the
IMA, Higher Command Courses, and the National Defence College. He has had an
illustrious career encompassing command, staff & instructional appointments
including those of commanding an Infantry Battalion on the Siachen Glacier, a
mountain brigade, and an Assam Rifles Range in South Assam. He was one of the
first members of the team which established the Defence Command and Staff
College at Botswana.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gopal stands out unique for tethering himself to one
solitary goal in life- a career as a commissioned officer in the Army and to
succeed. He indeed did that enviably! His love for the Army, his ambition,
his dedication, and the uncompromising attachment to the only goal in his life-
to be a soldier! It was a sole obsession unlike what many others like me
harboured. And what makes the position he retires worthy as no diamond can be
is that he has had a satisfying and proud career spanning 40 years. A soldier
who chose the infantry as an obsession!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I first saw him while we were in the Model High School,
Thiruvanathapuram and interactions may not have happened because I was a
different fish and had other friends and priorities than being obsessed with
lessons or the NCC. Later, while I was in the Mahatma Gandhi College, I saw him
pass by every afternoon at 3.40 pm precisely on his bicycle. Speeding back home
from MarIvanios College. We used to greet him every day with howls and
catcalls. He would shyly smile and wiz past, sometimes in his NCC uniform.
Those days we would yell,”pattalam”.Now, I can audaciously mention that I’m
among the couple or three who dare call him “pattalam”, even to this day.<br />
Two years later we were in the same class at Marivanios College. And since
those days I have seen him at the close quarters as the paradigm of dedication
and honesty. He has limited fascinations and indulgences unlike most of us, and
perhaps what that dominates his attention is gathering information. Sometimes
one feels the guy is trying to know too many things. Idiosyncrasies!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A teetotaler. Perhaps most of his quota of spirits were
utilised for me. I cannot forget one instance many years ago when I was in
Thiruppr. Those days’ mobile phones were yet to be outside science fiction. He
sent me a postal mail that his Gorkha would be passing Thiruppur (time mentioned along with the train number) and would I collect a crate of
beer from him. Did I need any persuasion? Though the train arrived late by
about 8 hours, I could see a diminutive Nepali Gorkha standing on the platform
just outside a compartment with the crate of beer and holding aloft a placard
with my name on it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The melee and furore that preceded his train journey in 1980
to New Delhi for the interview and selection process to the IMA are still
vivid. An inebriated TTE who tried to finesse his travel almost got
strangulated by a furious and incensed young Gopal. For the drunken man was
shattering his only dream, and would he for the love of God let someone do that
and have his way? Fortunately, the situation was mollified and he could travel
on the train with no restraint.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The bloke will seek his old classmates wherever they might
be and visit them during his vacation here in Thiruvananthapuram. This is a
unique character and seldom have I seen this in any other.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I, Christy, and Aravind can never forget the Royalty we were
when we spent a few days in his bungalow in Dimapur as his guest in 2018
December. It was rather awkward and embarrassing to us when the sentries at his
gate saluted us each time we went out for a stroll, or whenever they saw us
lounge outside on the lawn. As ordinary civilians that were too heavy for us to
bear. But looking back, we felt proud to be his friends and guest. It was that
unique status that mattered. The many times we spent with him in Wellington,
Conoor while he was a Major and a student at the Staff College, and later as Lt.
Colonel and Colonel there, are unforgettable.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If I were to suggest a marquis to aspiring young folks, I
would suggest Lt. General Gopal R (Retired). For his uncompromising ambition,
the earnest efforts put in to achieve his goal, the dedication, sincerity, and
honesty with which he accomplished his role.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Welcome mate into the world of civilians and that of social
media you had to avoid all along. And the honour of continuing to be “Pattalam”
for many of us is solely yours.<br />
It’s with a lot of pride, mate,that I end.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(I just called Raji his wife, and she told me she was at home
waiting for him and he is in his office in South Block ).<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script>linkwithin_text='Your custom text:'</script></div>anilkurup59http://www.blogger.com/profile/07961961217418715354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4448802533825615490.post-89337660933117459222020-05-23T10:34:00.002+05:302020-05-23T10:34:40.446+05:30By the Power of Emoticons<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
I have noticed distinct characteristics in men and women here on Facebook. Some men who brook no criticism, disagreement or even a suggestion take the easiest recourse–abuse and slander! These days seem endemic to Sanghis and unrefined Marxists. Even fans of the Snake wrangler Vava Suresh abused me with such astounding expletives that will pale the toxin of the most venomous of snakes. While women true to themselves walkout and block you when you disagree. Both are intellectually bankrupt lot. What do you think?<br />
<br />
Recently three ladies slammed the door in my face on Facebook. One came back rather tame a few months later and said as if she never was the termagant ‘B’ who went away with a snort.” Hi, can you tell me what you think of this?”<br />
I side-wheeler, why are you back here asking me? Why must I engage with a person overflowing with cussedness?”<br />
“Oh, sorry about that.”<br />
So there she was, but in less than a month she walked out again when I did not agree with her conspiracy theories on matters ranging from moon-landing climate change to the necessity of a vaccine for Covid-19. She boasted that she had never vaccinated her daughter or her pet dogs and never will.<br />
I asked, “not even for polio?” She was imperious and said “Yes and never.”<br />
“Oh, lady, your daughter is 25 and tremendously lucky, and you were stupid.” She unfriended me on FB and blocked my phone too.<br />
<br />
Another one with strong detestation for Narendra Modi caught up on Facebook. She seemed knowledgeable and concerned about matters around us and was not uneasy about expressing strongly. But, I was soon to realise that the detestation of Moditva is no guarantee of social relationships.<br />
She wrote on her page that no one is to share her opinions or what she posts without her permission. I wondered if what we write or post on social media attracts copyright law to demand that others should not copy. I also mentioned that the share button is an allowance for copying and if not acknowledging the source or tagging the source would suffice, perhaps! And I suggested rather check with an expert on copyright laws. That peeved her. She went off on a different tangent. She accused me of insensitivity and disregard for another person’s misfortune. That I expressed amusement through a laughing emoji when she wrote in a brief review of the movie “Thappad” , that she thanked her stars she chose to be single.<br />
<br />
Gosh, for once the power of emoticons struck me. I amused now and truly!<br />
<br />
I told her, yes it amused me because these days, we often hear the young say so and I have a few amusing cases that I knew where such extreme views for frivolous reasons were raised. Besides, I did not watch the film to critique on it, and my expression was not either disapproving or approving the premise of the story.<br />
The fact was, she followed up and wrote that she walked out on her spouse who was abusive and no man may hit her or have a say over her body, and I was being a true misogynistic sod. By the time, I wrote to her I was sorry for the misunderstanding and there was no way I knew her past, and now I feel awed by her courage and hope she understood my expression through an emoji was not meant to be offensive, she blocked me and vanished.<br />
What a fascinating and convoluted place in this virtual world of social media and the world of emojis!<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script>linkwithin_text='Your custom text:'</script></div>anilkurup59http://www.blogger.com/profile/07961961217418715354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4448802533825615490.post-64294942909717246822020-04-11T17:04:00.001+05:302020-04-11T17:04:40.568+05:30Do I Hate Modi? A citizen's Posit<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
The usual refrain is, “you ignorant Modi haters, your dislike for the man is blinding you, and you do not want to accept the good he has done. You sickular, urban-naxal, antinational commies”. Now, this comment has become so hackneyed, that it has begun to show out glaringly who is ignorant if not blinded and biased.<br />
Am I biased in my opinion about Narendra Damodardas Modi the prime minister of India? Do I hate the man so much so, that my assumptions and opinions are prejudiced against him and his almost 6 years as the country’s prime minister? Often I sat back and thought, after all, could these folks be right, that I was biased? Are my opinions and comments (though constitutional given right), determined by my hatred for the man? Do I hate him?<br />
<br />
Heads of States often occupy chairs that are unenviable and as the cliché goes, to quote the Shakespearian lament, “………and in the calmest and stillest night,<br />
with all appliances and means to boot,<br />
Deny it to a king? Then happy low, lie down!<br />
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.”<br />
<br />
I thought and I thought, I even excised the Godhra, and the Gujarat programme from my mind and then juxtaposed next to Narendra Modi, King Henry bemoaning his position as King that he, unlike even the most penurious could not have a moment peace and repose. I drew void! For Modi in his exalted avatar as the master of all, he surveys in the past 6 years as the country’s prime minister failed himself, the people and the country. One must be an incorrigibly blind or a twat to think different.<br />
<br />
Before I ventured here to explain my opinion, I had asked his fans to highlight a few of his achievements that changed the country for good, and then, perhaps I could alter my opinion. But since the few times I have done so I invited only invectives and even termination of a longstanding friendship I hasten here to explain my point as a citizen who exercised his vote in the preceding two general elections. So this opinion here of Narendra Modi is that of an ordinary voter, and I hold no political affiliation.<br />
<br />
True I had serious reservations against Narendra Modi coming to power. More so if he would retain power in the previous elections. That aside, when he rode into New Delhi in his previous tenure, I wished fervently that I was wrong. His truly symbolic gesture genuflecting at the doors of the country’s parliament made me hope that I could be wrong in understanding the man. I could recall that his more famous predecessor Indira Gandhi virtually held the very Parliament as a juggler would the juggling pins. And she made the cabinet and the house servile and mute, while she mauled the constitution, superseded Judges with pliable ones,<br />
deracinated institutions of democracy and even suspended fundamental rights for 18 long months! Now here we have a lesser-known person, controversial but a commoner, go down on his knees and then prostrate at the doorstep of democracy as he himself put it. Indeed a matter to hope and have trust!<br />
I thought, perhaps the thumping election win had chastened him and he would call upon his countrymen to unite, to leave behind parochial, communal and religious intolerances and differences, exhort camaraderie and universal brotherhood. I told to myself he will halt the limbo of the second UPA, tackle corruption that was killing the country, instill confidence in the economy, lend succor to the multitude of the needy, the underprivileged and the marginalised. Shun the divisive, hate-filled saffron- hindutva ideology that he exercised in Gujarat and as the Prime Minister enedavour to build an inclusive and rainbow nation (to paraphrase Bishop Desmond Tutu). Uplift the underprivileged and the marginalised, give meaning to Dalit life by going hard on caste and untouchability both still scourge and abomination in many parts of the country, and ensure tribals are not dispossessed and are treated like human beings and citizens of this country. He will heed scientific data and advise and strive to arrest climate change-related issues and ensure the environment is protected and not raped barren and left scorched in the name of development. That he would address the confidence reposed in him by the youth of the country who swayed by his “sab ke sath saka vikas” and “achedin” slogans flocked behind him. He would like a sorcerer pull out the rabbit that would halt the disastrous slide in Kashmir and deal with Pakistan and China as Statesman. He will recast the often shot-funded health and education, strive to persist with a scientific temper that Jawaharlal Nehru exhorted and is laid out in the Directive Principles of the constitution.<br />
<br />
However, as days, weeks, months and years went by, Modi’s intentions became less curioser and less curioser. As Arun Shourie famously put it Modi rule is UPA plus the cow!<br />
1- It became clearer and clearer that here we have saddled a man who is a thespian nonpareil, who thrives on theatrics and spectacles, gimmicks and foolery, who is a sophist and pedals falsehood at every turn, that even his academic qualification has become an apparent lie and joke, like the fantastic stories invented about his childhood.<br />
2- A man who is so egoistic that his only intent is to enhance his image, whose knowledge of economics is penurious and yet his conceit and hubris prevents him from owning up his mistake or keeping talent and scholarship around him.<br />
3- He is indebted to his crony capitalist friends for putting him in the prime minister's chair and quid pro quo became blatant.<br />
4- And he instead of tackling corruption, in a way legalised it through an egregious instrument called “electoral bonds”.<br />
5- He unleashed sectarianism and gave carte blanche authority to the Sangh parivar to inflict its hindutva goons on the society and began targeting Muslim, minorities, Dalits, and tribals, paving way for lynching in the name of the cow, the Hindu god Ram and the religion. The gentle beast, the cow became a predatory animal and the law enforcers’ facilitators of the crimes committed by saffron goons.<br />
6- Bigotry soon was made the official religion and daily doses of outlandish, bizarre, idiocy BJP ministers and parliamentarians began to zealously mouth became an utter embarrassment to commonsense and to the country itself.<br />
7- The extent of fear and emasculation that was to come among the intelligentsia was noticed even as back as 2014 when physicians sat mutely through a speech of Modi wherein he claimed, cosmetic surgery and reproductive genetics were used thousands of years ago in ancient India. He referred to the birth of mythical Karna and the figure of the elephant-headed god Ganesha as examples. Stupidity seemed to be seamless in Modi rule.<br />
8- Then the most ridiculous, quixotic and heartless of all his decisions- demonetisation was inflicted on the country.<br />
9- And one of the most novel of tax regimes- GST mooted by the former Prime Minister Manmohan Singh and which Modi as the chief-minister opposed tooth and nail was rolled out hastily, without a proper plan or thought and literally botched it up. Modi’s yearning for theatrics and a position with the founding fathers of the country was so irresistible that he made the parliament convene at midnight to announce the new tax regime, without planning or forethought, throwing commerce and tax generation into a tailspin.<br />
10- For the first time in the history of Independent India the world’s financial institutions began to sceptically eye statistical figures dished out by Modi government. It was pathetic, the country’s own Department of Statistics distanced from the government’s data and figures.<br />
11- Lies and falsehood became the rule and norm. Cyber cells were set up to spread innuendos, falsehood, and canard.<br />
12- The mammoth defence deal with France was arrogated by the man himself and his government stonewalled and refused to answer legitimate queries about the deal.<br />
13- Procedures were steamrolled through in parliament with scant regard for conventions and propriety.<br />
14- Constitution was defenestrated when Article 370 was abrogated.<br />
15- Important legislations were blatantly piloted without debate and scrutiny in the lower house as money-bills, circumventing the possibility of discussion and bottlenecks in the opposition-controlled Rajyasabha.<br />
16- An egregious law to use religious profiling like in the Third Reich to identify and sequester Muslims was passed in parliament, throwing the country into turmoil and Modi made the infamous and unstatesmanlike comment that protesting people can be identified by the dress they wear.<br />
17- Institutions were systematically encroached and packed with ideologues, textbooks were refurbished with hindutva narratives and mumbo jumbo.<br />
18- The Courts and the media were bought or bludgeoned to submission, institutions of higher learning were targeted, canards were spread about them and the students there and criminals escorted by police were given a free hand to enter campuses and attack faculty and students.<br />
.<br />
19- Police were used to aid rioters and let the capital of the country burn for three days, targeting Muslims.<br />
20- Sufficient international reports and the WHO missive on the possibility of COVID-19 turning into a pandemic were ignored for one full month and more. Ostensibly Narendra Modi had more pressing issues to handle- the toppling of the government in the State of Madhya Pradesh and then the international thamsha of Donald Trump’s visit. By then the damage was done and proactive recourse were nonstarters.<br />
21- Intolerance towards criticism and different opinions became so abusive that paled Indira Gandhi’s Emergency.<br />
22- Contempt for scholarship, intellect, and science. Central funding for research tweaked to .8 percent of the GDP and funds for education and health slashed.<br />
23- Like he claims if he is a democrat what prevented him from facing the media? Not one candid press meet in his tenure so far. That itself proves his weak guts when facing the truth.<br />
24- As a person living in Kerala, I cannot forget how malevolently Narendra Modi finessed all sources of aid and assistance from friendly Arab countries that were promised to the State to stand up to the devastating flood two years ago.<br />
<br />
The man’s penchant for theatrics and symbolic gestures which befool Indians have always been plenty during the past 6 years. His wailing to burn him at the stake if demonetisation was a failure moved people to such extent that they stood by him. But forgot to heed his offer when demonetisaion became a monumental blunder, fraud, and crime on Indians. The dramatics over the coffin of 40 soldiers blasted to oblivion in a bomb blast at a high-security zone in Pulwama and the outrage still remains a mystery like the Godhra, but moved people to a great emotional extent that they rallied behind the man. The adventures across the border on a cloudy night, evading Pakistani Radars to hunt terrorists amassed near the international border was enough reason to anoint Modi as Napoleon Bonaparte – the fearless, and like Lancelot the daring knight in shining armour that India was searching for 70 years! These two incidents propelled him back with a thumping majority, but over the dead bodies of thousands of farmers who ended their lives, plowed down by farm distress, 40-year high unemployment, economic tail-spin to an alarming extent, atrocities on dalits and refusal to hear their agony, marginalisation and insecurity among Muslims and minorities, hounding and dispossession of tribals and prevalent mutual suspicion in the society which reached a never seen proportion.<br />
<br />
Before coming to the recent theatrics of clanging and banging vessels and then the lighting of candles and lamps, remember a delayed response and the decision to enforce a nationwide lock-down was implemented with a notice of 4 hours. We saw the exodus and frenetic scramble by lakhs of migrant labourers , total disruption and defeating the very purpose of lockdown. Modi's penchant for drama sans idea, planning and thought, in brief lack of commonsense and empathy reflected here. And again both spectacles proved clownish and disastrous from the very need to distance physically. Only time can tell what is in store. His call for clang- bang would have been welcome if Mister Modi had shown an iota of honesty and sincerity in dealing with sectarianism communal hatred his party and the Sangh fanned out. I would not have hesitated to be part of these exercises symbolically though if the man had uttered one effective sentence addressed to his bakths and Sanghi storm-troopers that unity and oneness should mean inclusiveness of all people irrespective of religion, caste and creed and that symbolisms must be translated into realism. I would have volunteered had he not infamously profiled dissenters based on what they wear. That was an outrageous utterance from the prime minister of the country. Let him first target bigotry, be it of whatever religious hue, if he sincerely wants unity among all Indians. A symbolic drama will be an irritating comedy and utter dishonesty when he, Narendra Modi has not to date shown one act of carrying all Indians with him.<br />
<br />
Now it is not just hating it is the detestation of what he stands for and am offended that the prime minister of the country is a person who has created more division than the Brits could in their infamous imperial history. Mister Modi, there is still time and opportunity to make amends and leave a legacy that will make posterity dismiss your fallibilities and see you as a Statesman.<br />
<br />
I see that the country has been changed forever and even if Modi is voted out in the next general elections in 2024 or even the one after (should there be one), it will be years before the social fabric of the country can be repaired and people would begin to trust their neighbours; where ethnicity, religion, and caste become insignificant and harmony, food, shelter, security and clean environment become existential matters</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script>linkwithin_text='Your custom text:'</script></div>anilkurup59http://www.blogger.com/profile/07961961217418715354noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4448802533825615490.post-28901766511969026622020-04-05T12:05:00.001+05:302020-04-05T12:05:32.440+05:30The Wizard King<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Once upon a time there lived in a faraway land, a man who boasted a broad chest and he ruled over a kingdom where its people even surprised him for their lack of intelligence. And he rightly observed them so to his coterie. But they, his subjects, in their blinkered life had not seen a donkey and so could not compare themselves with the twat, dumb-looking timid beast. They believed their King was smart and they clever as their King.</div>
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The King was canny as a fox, but he also thought he was smart and had a high IQ. Kings from other kingdoms would always want to remind him politely he was an idiot like his subjects, but alas he always hastened to hug and charm them as soon as he saw them, that they preferred not to be candid and risk being rude in the bargain.</div>
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The fact remained as stark as that, that the King would go on national television as he often did and announced mad decrees he claimed were for the greater common good and demanded compliances which his donkey subjects, the twats gleefully obliged, eagerly looking up to him for more.</div>
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He was a sorcerer if he could hypnotise his donkey subjects and they joyfully followed him like even the pied piper of Hamelin would have no alternative but envy the King. He would proclaim his decrees at night and the next day, he would wail, beat his chest that they should burn him at the stake if he was wrong, and they forgave him, they could not bear tears in his eyes. They knew not that his eyes were of marble and could not generate tears. Often he would send out a decoy, a look-alike (though many say for real)- his old mamma to run the same errand he asked his donkey subjects to do and they would go gaga and dance singing eulogies of the King and his old mamma. The King would not even spare his old mamma! How noble! The King would laugh his guts out, rocking in his chair in his castle. And the donkeys in unionism would bray, “Oh, great leader, you are the shining star, the burning sun, son of Gods you could never be wrong. You are infallible, you are the light and deliverance.”</div>
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One day a little before midnight the King went on Television dressed in his splendid silk attire appliqued tapestry that at a closer look told was his name embroidered in the thread of gold, his snow-white mane immaculately groomed and waxed with ancient Indian herbs, its aroma stifling even through the television screens but as aromatic incense to his hallucinated subjects in their dreamy indolence. He then decreed that from midnight that night he was suspending the earth’s gravity so that his subjects could spread their wings, tethered until then by evil forces and fly with abandon. Midnight came by and his donkey subjects flocked and jostled to jump out of their apartment windows and float like fairies in the state of zero gravity. Many living in hutments scampered up coconut palms, so they could jump and fly. Such was his prehensile purchase and sway over them they gleefully jumped and flew; then they fell flat on their skulls and on their faces, on to the ground below like hailstones. Their craniums, ribs, and bones breaking like twigs, and still, they thought they felt they were flying, the strong cold wind in the sky blow in their faces. They were in awe that they could fly. And the wizard King with ease held them in his spell, that their broken skulls, dying hearts, and aching bodies refused to believe they did not fly. They bled and bled!</div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script>linkwithin_text='Your custom text:'</script></div>anilkurup59http://www.blogger.com/profile/07961961217418715354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4448802533825615490.post-37552366308000402672020-03-22T10:03:00.001+05:302020-03-22T10:03:26.795+05:30The Circus after the Hanging <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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For some time yesterday early morning after I switched on
the TV, I began to wonder if Covid-19 vanished from the country overnight.
There was not a word of the contagion, all that burst out on TV channels was
the hanging of the four rapists in the wee hours in Tihar.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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It seemed like a carnival at the gates of Tihar. Newfound
trust in the judiciary as placards displayed “we trust Judiciary”. Then all
kinds of bizarre slogans which I now fail to recollect. Men were jubilant, so
were women. It all seemed like some medieval circus where public executions had
taken place and the crowd braying for more blood. The 7 years of wait had
finally come to close and the Indian judicial system that moves as fast as a
tortoise has ground its way and brought to close a sordid chapter of gang rape,
brutality, and murder that may pale the wildest of barbarians even the Vikings.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
7 years ago on a wintry night, the unfortunate Delhi girl
was stalked by six savage men and after thrashing her companion to an almost
invalid state the brutes set upon her gang-raped her in the most flagitious and
dreadful way only human beings can think of. That night India as a country and
we as social beings failed the young girl miserably. We failed because we let
six depraved societal beings physically violate her – she was mauled and torn
apart. The brutality that even wild beasts would not do was heaped on her. We
again failed when we most outrageously rechristened her “Nirbhaya”, or the
fearless. How dare we? How dare we presume that the girl was not plowed down by
mortal fear when six hellish, debauched men pounced on her and ignoring her
pleas, cries, and entreaties ripped her apart like hungry savage wild dogs? How
dare we call her fantastic names ostensibly to elevate her on a high pedestal
of courage and bravery and thereby mollify our collective guilt? She, a frail
teenager, I’m sure could do nothing to resist when six cannibals had her pinned
her down and set upon her in the most gruesome fashion words fail to tell. And
we try to believe she was “fearless”! It makes me sick and retch when I hear
the girl being referred to as “nirbhaya”, it must put down our heads in shame.
She ought to be known by her given maiden name, her memory must not live under
a pseudonym the hypocrite society granted her. That is the least justice we can
do for her.<o:p></o:p></div>
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One can empathise with her parents who were pleading for the
execution of her daughter's rapists. Their anguish minds could not have seen
beyond that and the moral, ethical side of jurisprudence. When the mother said
with relief that at last, her late daughter got justice, we could hold out our
feelings for her. What else can a mother feel? But it makes me wonder when the
general public says that “Justice served for ‘Nirbhaya”. What justice could a dead
person possibly get? One said her soul was writhing would now be at peace.
Semantics and fantastic phrases apart, the soul is itself a mirage that we
human beings invented to appease our longing for immortality. A satisfaction we
get when we think a part of us live even after we are dead.<o:p></o:p></div>
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What justice is it that we could give the girl now she is
dead that we as a society collectively failed to provide her while she was
alive? What justice are we waiting to render to the teenaged Unnao girl who was
brutally raped and later murdered? What justice can we now give Asifa the
seven-year-old girl who was repeatedly raped for days and murdered in a temple
in Kathau, Kashmir? How many more individual justice are we to ensure for rape
and murder of women and little girls that happen every day in this country? It
is offensive that we even think of finding satisfaction and expect to clear our
conscience by invoking the end word in such cases- “justice served”. My foot! <o:p></o:p></div>
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We saw tribal instincts come alive in front of Tihar
yesterday morning and the kill TV channels found in the news of the hanging of
the quartet, baring a few channels like the Asianet News and NDTV who
simultaneously dealt with the very foundation of the premises on which capital
punishment continues to be on the statute in countries like India that we call
civilised. The benchmark for “rarest of rare case”, is a flawed premise. A
protest against capital punishment will in today’s India be as seditious and
anti-national as criticising Hindutva. The old and humane avatar of Kiran Bedi
the fiery cop, when she took charge as the first female Inspector General of
the prison, carried prison reforms that were in tune with a society that
claimed to be civilised. She was upbraided for trying to reform the incorrigible
and calling for human rights in prisons. It is an old primitive tribal notion
that believes prisoners do not have their rights as human beings. One can even
ask the hackneyed cliché well if something that happened to the Delhi girl fell
upon your kin you might then think differently.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There is a sine qua non for calling ourselves a civilised
lot. That must first ensure the patriarchal mindset and misogyny are erased
from the society; children from a young age are taught to respect women; if an
accused when guilty of a crime is punished as per law and that very law must
either address his or her transformation in incarceration or accept the fact
that retributive justice is no justice but only vendetta as offensive as the
crime itself. Look at people braying for blood of the accused or the guilty. We
see that in primitive tribal societies. It doesn’t take much thought to
understand that the men who were vociferous in front of Tihar, yesterday would
perhaps readily stalk and violate a woman, molest, grope and harass if a given
situation makes them believe that they can escape being apprehended or
punished. That is the duality of people. You hunt the victim and later cry for
her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few months ago much of the country applauded when the
Hyderabad police stage-managed an encounter and bumped off three rapist
murderers. We, like daft, were more than eager to accept their alibi that the
men tried to attack the police posse before attempting to bolt. We even were
content to think that extrajudicial killings were providing speedy ‘justice’.
What we forgot to understand was we are going back into primitivity. Did we
have a convincing trail that diligently tested the accusation those men were
guilty of the crime? Or were they decoy planted by the real rapists – murderers?
Did we realize the anarchy such extrajudicial, instant retribution can cause to
the fabric of the society and its law and jurisprudence? Not a word thereafter,
we moved on – in fact we have moved backward.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now, when we stand up and be passionate about what we call
retributive justice for the Delhi girl and thinking she finally got justice, we
are lying unto ourselves and let me put it, mocking her soul if you may. There
is no proof that retributive justice or capital punishment, and in primitive
semantics an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth holds good as a deterrent.
Only in uncivilised barbaric societies that still fall for that, quoting
antediluvian practices and bizarre books can think of chopping one's hand for
theft, stoning for adultery and decapitation for murder. When the world over
societies has done away with capital punishment, I do not see why that medieval
retributive punishment should not be removed from the statute of a country like
India which claims to be civilised. Lifelong incarceration with or without a
chance of parole is what would torment the criminal either leading to his or
her reform or pathological decay. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
To quote Henry Ford, “Capital punishment is as fundamentally
wrong as a cure for crime as charity is wrong as a cure for poverty”.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script>linkwithin_text='Your custom text:'</script></div>anilkurup59http://www.blogger.com/profile/07961961217418715354noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4448802533825615490.post-2202240270187623042019-11-08T09:13:00.002+05:302019-11-21T11:56:01.158+05:30The Little Whore House<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The little whore house stood next to a well-known and
respected family home on <pwa class="pwa-mark pwa-mark-done" data-pwa-category="spelling" data-pwa-dictionary-word="Ambujavilasom" data-pwa-heavy="false" data-pwa-hint="Unknown word: Ambujavilasom" data-pwa-id="pwa-9F71F7659CE97CBFCE5305BEDE1FF7F9" data-pwa-rule-id="SIMPLE_SPELLING" data-pwa-suggestions=""><pwa class="pwa-mark pwa-mark-done" data-pwa-category="spelling" data-pwa-dictionary-word="Ambujavilasom" data-pwa-heavy="false" data-pwa-hint="Unknown word: Ambujavilasom" data-pwa-id="pwa-FC4F45A56275ED6C951A49FA5D7B2F2D" data-pwa-rule-id="SIMPLE_SPELLING" data-pwa-suggestions="">Ambujavilasom</pwa></pwa> road in the heart or <pwa class="pwa-mark pwa-mark-done" data-pwa-category="spelling" data-pwa-dictionary-word="Thiruvanathapuram" data-pwa-heavy="false" data-pwa-hint="Unknown word: Thiruvanathapuram" data-pwa-id="pwa-2235F30B6C5B3E1515345C4C38C4165E" data-pwa-rule-id="SIMPLE_SPELLING" data-pwa-suggestions=""><pwa class="pwa-mark pwa-mark-done" data-pwa-category="spelling" data-pwa-dictionary-word="Thiruvanathapuram" data-pwa-heavy="false" data-pwa-hint="Unknown word: Thiruvanathapuram" data-pwa-id="pwa-D130A14FD2198B579291668AF324B7D0" data-pwa-rule-id="SIMPLE_SPELLING" data-pwa-suggestions="">Thiruvanathapuram</pwa></pwa>.
About 5 minutes by foot from the main thoroughfare and the State Secretariat.
It was an unassuming place with <pwa class="pwa-mark pwa-mark-done" data-pwa-category="grammar" data-pwa-dictionary-word="tiled" data-pwa-heavy="false" data-pwa-hint="Possible missing determiner" data-pwa-id="pwa-BDCB7E5335BF30F8249DDC381638C658" data-pwa-rule-id="DET_CG_2" data-pwa-suggestions="a tiled~the tiled"><pwa class="pwa-mark pwa-mark-done" data-pwa-category="grammar" data-pwa-dictionary-word="tiled" data-pwa-heavy="false" data-pwa-hint="Possible missing determiner" data-pwa-id="pwa-D79CC55E38CD06633BD2FE8A8CE60766" data-pwa-rule-id="DET_CG_2" data-pwa-suggestions="a tiled~the tiled">tiled</pwa></pwa> roof and a lone door opening right on to
the street. Much of the drama and little melee we used to witness as we passed
by each morning and evening was all that we were privy too. Nothing beyond that!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was about 200 meters <pwa class="pwa-mark pwa-mark-done" data-pwa-category="style" data-pwa-dictionary-word="or so " data-pwa-heavy="false" data-pwa-hint="Readability may be enhanced by removing this" data-pwa-id="pwa-4E56AA195434437CDEF7BE6718D883F8" data-pwa-rule-id="READABILITY_93" data-pwa-suggestions="(omit)"><pwa class="pwa-mark pwa-mark-done" data-pwa-category="style" data-pwa-dictionary-word="or so " data-pwa-heavy="false" data-pwa-hint="Readability may be enhanced by removing this" data-pwa-id="pwa-95595C646E2911BF872509A55A1228A5" data-pwa-rule-id="READABILITY_93" data-pwa-suggestions="(omit)">or so </pwa></pwa>from where I lived and, I and my friend used to walk past the little
whore house each morning to school and on our way back in the evening. I was in
the 5<sup>th</sup> standard when I <pwa class="pwa-mark pwa-mark-done" data-pwa-category="style" data-pwa-dictionary-word="was told" data-pwa-heavy="false" data-pwa-hint="Passive verbs make your writing less direct. Try to use an active verb instead." data-pwa-id="pwa-407635D9986CC783D9CB23D5606185B5" data-pwa-rule-id="PASSIVE_VOICE" data-pwa-suggestions=""><pwa class="pwa-mark pwa-mark-done" data-pwa-category="style" data-pwa-dictionary-word="was told" data-pwa-heavy="false" data-pwa-hint="Passive verbs make your writing less direct. Try to use an active verb instead." data-pwa-id="pwa-EAC955100F6E41484C6D59FE9132F81F" data-pwa-rule-id="PASSIVE_VOICE" data-pwa-suggestions="">was told</pwa></pwa> about this strange, and to me then,
a fascinating place in our neighbourhood. It was my friend two years
senior to me who introduced me to the intrigues of the place. Being about 8 or
9 years and fresh from the protected environment of a convent education, many
things were inexplicable though curious and amusing. Amusing especially when on
our way to school or back we witnessed the police raid at the whorehouse. A ramshackle
police van parked by the door of the whorehouse and potbellied fearsome-looking
policemen and a few scrawny ones with only handle mustache to evoke
trepidation bundle few women inmates and their plebeian clientele into the
police van. Looking back, the policemen would now evoke clownish feel, attired
in their odd short trousers with ample ventilation around their hairy thighs
for fresh air to blow up their groins. I recall the day after when we passed by,
the old woman who ran the place (a hag perhaps in her early 70s)<pwa class="pwa-mark pwa-mark-done" data-pwa-category="grammar" data-pwa-dictionary-word=" ," data-pwa-heavy="false" data-pwa-hint="The punctuation mark ',' may not require a space before it. Consider removing the space." data-pwa-id="pwa-29B9C635F70BF4AE83AB79950A38DA31" data-pwa-rule-id="WHITESPACE" data-pwa-suggestions=","><pwa class="pwa-mark pwa-mark-done" data-pwa-category="grammar" data-pwa-dictionary-word=" ," data-pwa-heavy="false" data-pwa-hint="The punctuation mark ',' may not require a space before it. Consider removing the space." data-pwa-id="pwa-20692E8BFA7CDBD78B4C4FCD34711334" data-pwa-rule-id="WHITESPACE" data-pwa-suggestions=","> ,</pwa></pwa> always with
sandalwood paste and a few shreds of flowers on her grey hair sitting at the
door forlorn and sad, having lost her clientele,
women and business to the police outrage. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She lived there with her daughter (a single woman) and her
teenage son. I did not notice any disenchantment in the daughter nor her son
who apparently let the old woman run her cottage industry.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There were occasional arguments at the door between petulant
patrons and the inmates. I saw one day one man forced out of the place by a
few women inmates. He <pwa class="pwa-mark pwa-mark-done" data-pwa-category="style" data-pwa-dictionary-word="was very agitated" data-pwa-heavy="false" data-pwa-hint="Passive verbs make your writing less direct. Try to use an active verb instead." data-pwa-id="pwa-C94B1C986650C803EAF1D878F1BAB021" data-pwa-rule-id="PASSIVE_VOICE" data-pwa-suggestions=""><pwa class="pwa-mark pwa-mark-done" data-pwa-category="style" data-pwa-dictionary-word="was very agitated" data-pwa-heavy="false" data-pwa-hint="Passive verbs make your writing less direct. Try to use an active verb instead." data-pwa-id="pwa-D50F834CDC117F8F238000D05920F60F" data-pwa-rule-id="PASSIVE_VOICE" data-pwa-suggestions="">was very agitated</pwa></pwa>, quite inebriated too and was shouting
expletives. An unhappy and a dissatisfied customer, perhaps! “Caveat emptor”, I
now would suggest to him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Looking back there was no clear discomfort, annoyance and
moralistic angst from the people who lived around. An impossibility in today’s phoney,
voyeuristic Mallu society. The place seemed to have survived all by itself and
ignored by the elite folks who lived in the neighbourhood. Whether the clan men
in the region frequented the whorehouse talking refuge in shadows of the night,
I can only guess with some amusement<pwa class="pwa-mark pwa-mark-done" data-pwa-category="style" data-pwa-dictionary-word=" nevertheless" data-pwa-heavy="false" data-pwa-hint="Readability may be enhanced by removing this" data-pwa-id="pwa-866291D682ABFD2685EF9817494EA86B" data-pwa-rule-id="READABILITY_542" data-pwa-suggestions="(omit)"><pwa class="pwa-mark pwa-mark-done" data-pwa-category="style" data-pwa-dictionary-word=" nevertheless" data-pwa-heavy="false" data-pwa-hint="Readability may be enhanced by removing this" data-pwa-id="pwa-D55C56DE01F4C76B2A5F4D6F54806726" data-pwa-rule-id="READABILITY_542" data-pwa-suggestions="(omit)"> nevertheless</pwa></pwa>! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
The story ended one day abruptly with the death of the old woman.
It abounded rumour that someone poisoned her, but no one could tell. However, the passing of the old woman ended perhaps the saga of “the little whore house”.
The daughter and son vanished soon after and now a multistoried office building
stands on the 5 <pwa class="pwa-mark pwa-mark-done" data-pwa-category="grammar" data-pwa-dictionary-word="cents" data-pwa-heavy="false" data-pwa-hint="Possible confused word" data-pwa-id="pwa-CBC38ECA0F5D55A52E2E7CA815F057E6" data-pwa-rule-id="CRFSR_CENTS_43" data-pwa-suggestions="sense"><pwa class="pwa-mark pwa-mark-done" data-pwa-category="grammar" data-pwa-dictionary-word="cents" data-pwa-heavy="false" data-pwa-hint="Possible confused word" data-pwa-id="pwa-B1059E185535A6F20053118FF6ACF2DD" data-pwa-rule-id="CRFSR_CENTS_43" data-pwa-suggestions="sense">cents</pwa></pwa> of land where perhaps much of <pwa class="pwa-mark pwa-mark-done" data-pwa-category="spelling" data-pwa-dictionary-word="Vatsyana" data-pwa-heavy="false" data-pwa-hint="Unknown word: Vatsyana" data-pwa-id="pwa-D9BB86BDBE9EE00E2FED0F557A04126C" data-pwa-rule-id="SIMPLE_SPELLING" data-pwa-suggestions="Vatsiana~Watson~Tyson~aviation~veteran"><pwa class="pwa-mark pwa-mark-done" data-pwa-category="spelling" data-pwa-dictionary-word="Vatsyana" data-pwa-heavy="false" data-pwa-hint="Unknown word: Vatsyana" data-pwa-id="pwa-62E82209DB716F5D9714F6A188F4E592" data-pwa-rule-id="SIMPLE_SPELLING" data-pwa-suggestions="Vatsiana~Watson~Tyson~aviation~veteran">Vatsyana</pwa></pwa>’s exhortations <pwa class="pwa-mark-done" data-pwa-category="style" data-pwa-dictionary-word="were religiously indulged" data-pwa-heavy="false" data-pwa-hint="Passive verbs make your writing less direct. Try to use an active verb instead." data-pwa-id="pwa-4765DDE5793FEBF597110A006A14282A" data-pwa-rule-id="PASSIVE_VOICE" data-pwa-suggestions=""><pwa class="pwa-mark pwa-mark-done" data-pwa-category="style" data-pwa-dictionary-word="were religiously indulged" data-pwa-heavy="false" data-pwa-hint="Passive verbs make your writing less direct. Try to use an active verb instead." data-pwa-id="pwa-946DAFAA2A4A1C601EC90227BF6BA348" data-pwa-rule-id="PASSIVE_VOICE" data-pwa-suggestions="">were</pwa></pwa><pwa class="pwa-mark-done" data-pwa-category="style" data-pwa-dictionary-word="were religiously indulged" data-pwa-heavy="false" data-pwa-hint="Passive verbs make your writing less direct. Try to use an active verb instead." data-pwa-id="pwa-4765DDE5793FEBF597110A006A14282A" data-pwa-rule-id="PASSIVE_VOICE" data-pwa-suggestions=""><pwa class="pwa-mark pwa-mark-done" data-pwa-category="style" data-pwa-dictionary-word="were religiously indulged" data-pwa-heavy="false" data-pwa-hint="Passive verbs make your writing less direct. Try to use an active verb instead." data-pwa-id="pwa-946DAFAA2A4A1C601EC90227BF6BA348" data-pwa-rule-id="PASSIVE_VOICE" data-pwa-suggestions="">
religiously indulged</pwa></pwa> in, but all at a value. <o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script>linkwithin_text='Your custom text:'</script></div>anilkurup59http://www.blogger.com/profile/07961961217418715354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4448802533825615490.post-71592746425816109442019-07-14T11:16:00.000+05:302019-07-14T11:16:31.859+05:30The Shooting Star<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4S9AtGVJJkb3WcZZBq1pnhlzbw9L0qBQXbsB5OR10EScOGIHEgd078TsIgpPQd073QiZnYZq-uBacKr2qESwztBTez5E20Ppq6hAcQ2nvnn7cDoTAhtjYfQnxRbmlvV8lO8LlwrgjJa5N/s1600/images+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="171" data-original-width="294" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4S9AtGVJJkb3WcZZBq1pnhlzbw9L0qBQXbsB5OR10EScOGIHEgd078TsIgpPQd073QiZnYZq-uBacKr2qESwztBTez5E20Ppq6hAcQ2nvnn7cDoTAhtjYfQnxRbmlvV8lO8LlwrgjJa5N/s320/images+%25281%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I
haven’t met her, have not spoken to her and communications were only through
text messaging. She was reticent, perhaps timid and unassuming and I felt she
preferred to stay away from being noticed. She spent her moments away from the tawdriness
and melee of contemporary life, not even in the periphery of it. Even if one
were a trained<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>danseuse (in Mohiniyattom),
she humbled her ability even after being conditioned in the art form since she
was 6 and after having done quite a few performances in temples and other
venues. Her gregarious peers seem to have had not much effect on her decision
to be different. In the age of social media and wannabes are everywhere
jostling, elbowing for space and visibility a pretty eyed maiden<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>whatever was the reason , she chose to be
confined and less conspicuous , if I may say so?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In
fact she was literally faceless on social media, but yet she had her own little
space; you scour through her pages you may not see a picture of hers, but if
you have the clever knack of sieving through, you may chance to pick her from
the many faces in the few photographs of groups that you would see on her
social media pages. But yet again, that can only be a conjecture. However I was
certain. The vivacious, spellbinding pretty eyes and the élan of a danseuse was
obvious in one among others in the few pictures she posted. The pulchritude of
the eyes was arresting. Yet, until you can be sure guesses how so ever definite
may stay just as they are - guesses.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When
asked why she chose to be so, she said she loved it so. Was she a troglodyte of
sorts? Oh no, definitely not. She must have been 23-24. Her eyes captivatingly
beckon you from her pages. But what also was conspicuous was her outlook towards
life and life around her. 23 or 24 may not necessarily be an age when one
thinks deep about life and living, about wanting to give meaning to one’s life
which in fact has no real sense – “we are just born without purpose, but we can
provide one. Can’t we?” She once suggested in a chat. Now, that was some time
ago and today there is no shred of line that can tell you about her
whereabouts, she simply melted away. Perhaps she consciously left no foot
prints. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Yet,
what she said in the last communication we exchanged haunts, gives one an eerie
discomfort, though she may have gone away as shooting stars do. She fancied
them and their wanderlust.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">She
communicated with me the first time after reading my blog post which I reposted
on my social media page. “My Gods of Small Things”, was the title of the post
taking the cue from Arundati Roy’s novel of the almost similar name “God of
Small Things”. The matter was entirely different in its content and I was
seized with the few images of people from my life, who have all now passed, but
the little things they did has been more than Godly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I
understood in course of our quite some discussion which touched on religion,
love, morality, humanity, apparent frivolity of life, doing nothing, and even
film songs of the old from Malayalam and Hindi, that she was a keen listener,
reader and at the same time possessed a keen sense of reasoning in on almost
anything we discussed about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But why was she being trained as a Chartered
Accountant? Most of them in that profession are insipid aren’t they? The answer
was simple, her father willed so. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It
was her mother who cultivated in her the love for Mohiniyattam, she being a
dancer in her own right. But had to compromise her passion in face of her spouse’s
imperiousness, but not without the rider that her daughter will not be
restrained. Occasionally she used to mention about her little sister who was
about 10 years her junior and often hung around with her with the faithfulness
of a satellite.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Sir,
(she always addressed me so), what do you make of this clichéd phrase of
‘settling down’?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why must settling down
be confirming to what society and someone else, even be it what the family
decides for you? Perhaps you can tell?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yes,
why can’t settling down be what you think would lend meaning to the frivolity
of life?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">”Yes
exactly what I meant. You see this is why I believe being sexy is not of a
masculine body, an arrogant swagger, Ret Butler whiskers, broad jaw or high
cheek bones.”(She followed up with smiley in her text messages). “It is how one
thinks… it is the mind and it shows in one’s face. You cannot fake with
sassiness and swagger. Men are terribly wrong, mistaken. Don’t you think so?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Haa,
well, well. Indeed!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">”
Thanks for agreeing, now think of that girl , you once spoke about, the one who
cast away a wonderful<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>job in the far
east , heaved a back pack and took to travel the world. How old was she when
she did that, my age?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Hmm.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Here
Sir, I quote, I read from her book her own words, ‘4 years ago, I gave up my
home, sold most of my possessions and embraced a nomadic life. This journey has
taken me as far within as with my feet.’ ” I could see the text pause on the
screen, then, “I hate him, the bastard!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“What?”
I asked not knowing what she meant. I myself had suggested the book to her and
I knew those few words were not from the passage she read from the book. Certainly
those words were not related to the texting she was doing quoting the young
author of that book she loved reading over and over. If they were spoken words
I could shrug off thinking I heard them wrong. But these were words she typed
out and sent in text message.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">She
continued and not giving importance to my question. “…. how travelling changed my
perspective on getting married, not wanting kids. ‘Sir, I felt sick after
that.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I finally decided to write this
post for fellow dreamers, adventurers and rebels, who feel stifled by a lack of
choice too.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“What?”
I asked again. There was a pause, a little long one from her and when I asked again,
what she meant in between by something unrelated, she narrated.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I
wanted this out of me. It is he.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“What?
And Who?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“My
father.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yes
what about him?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“He
hugged and kissed me today.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Well
what about a father kissing his daughter hugging her. I do. Haven’t he kissed
you, hugged you before?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“No,
no, it is not that. Yes he has sometimes. But this was not of those kind. It
was different. I felt it when he touched me. It was nauseating and terrifying.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Oh,
what are you trying to say….?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yes
exactly that, but I feel like retching and am scared now. He kissed me biting
my cheeks, almost my lips and I could feel it… that thing of his pressing on to
my body, and through the lungie he was wearing… it was deliberate. It was all in
matter of seconds.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I
was wordless and then asked her, “Are you sure?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Please,
understand me Sir, I’m no child. This had never happened before, but I could
feel it, see it in his eyes that moment. I was numb that I could not shrug away
from him. These days I sometimes felt strange when he was around, a kind of
discomfort….but now…!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Did
you tell your mother? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">No,
I can’t. That will make matters worse. You see they are not hitting off well and
anything I say might jeopardise my sister too.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Is
he your step father?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“No,
no.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Okay,
what do you want me to do? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Nothing,
I just wanted this heaved off my chest.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Now
anything untoward any sign of it, let others outside know. Call me, if you may.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Hmm,
yes. Instead of wondering when one’s next vacation is, maybe one should set up
a life you don't need to escape from.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Was
that a quote? I do not know. But that was what she texted the last before the
line went dead. Months have passed and she just vanished without a trace.
Perhaps her foot prints can be traced in the sands of time - in the deserts,
the mountains, the wild basins of South American rivers and the forests she
dreamt of. She may have gathered the courage to run away so that she has not to
escape from places and people. Pray she did not relent and be captive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script>linkwithin_text='Your custom text:'</script></div>anilkurup59http://www.blogger.com/profile/07961961217418715354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4448802533825615490.post-21695919270553630122019-04-25T18:15:00.002+05:302019-04-25T18:15:47.946+05:30Narendra Modi & Alladin's Magic Lantern<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL5rryltBoOyzmJkXDkiNZ9TG0V4p1-o-I0MN5pFdd6hXQca4DzlnkZGTbYwZ8CurXigFHipPDIX_fb-jrpPKdf8mdXyElOY6Z8-AdtzRaXbd4oGS068SESf3kwzPlqWJaeIf6P0-DOm2L/s1600/download+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="170" data-original-width="297" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL5rryltBoOyzmJkXDkiNZ9TG0V4p1-o-I0MN5pFdd6hXQca4DzlnkZGTbYwZ8CurXigFHipPDIX_fb-jrpPKdf8mdXyElOY6Z8-AdtzRaXbd4oGS068SESf3kwzPlqWJaeIf6P0-DOm2L/s320/download+%25281%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
One Sanghi bloke is flaunting what he claims is an excerpt
from Modi's scripted interview with another less accomplished actor Akshay
Kumar. He asserts Modi's reply flabbergasted and lined up all in awe.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My bloke claims that the lesser of the two actors, the interviewer
Akshaykumar asked the thespian, Modi what he would do if he were to get the Alladin’s
famed magic lamp.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We are told Modi replied, that if he were to get hold of the
lamp, he'd ask academicians in the country to not take note of the fable or to
narrate it to kids. For it promotes a culture of lotus eating and lassitude. Besides
these stories are alien and not fit for India’s ethos. Then he is said to have
went on to critique Indian education that belittles the country’s past and
inculcate in children foreign values. Does the thespian know that 1001 nights is
a compilation of Middle Eastern fables?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well, even with a cursory reading of the matter one can only
laugh at this man’s <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>outlandish and damaged mind, even though it
seemed to be in all probability, a scripted answer. We saw what happens when
his answer or speech is not scripted. He would fantasise about out of proportion
elephant head fixed to a human kid’s torso, and call it plastic surgery!”<span style="font-family: "Segoe UI Symbol","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe UI Symbol";">😁😂</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Segoe UI Symbol","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe UI Symbol";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But what is startling here is Mister Modi seems to have had
no idea of Arabian Nights and the thousand fables from it that enlivened many
of our childhood. Can someone tell how many of our contemporaries became lotus
eaters and walk about in dreamy indolence, waiting for lady luck to shine? He
has no idea that we had the good part of our formative education through fables,
both from Indian myths, legends of yore and from foreign lands. That shaped us,
fortunately unlike this man Modi .<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We imbibed
values from Aladdin’s fortunes and wary of the evil uncle who tried to finesse him,
from Sindbad the sailor which gave us ideas about alien lands, people and
culture told through his voyages, from Alibaba’s and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>40<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>thieves, the canny and clever “ Fisherman and the Jinni”, “Tale of the
Vizier and the Sage Duban”, “The Fox and the Crow” ….! Well it is endless what
1001 Arabian nights gave. Does this man know that many stories had Indian and
Persian flair too? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now going farther westward, less said about Little Red Riding
Hood, Jack & the Bean Stalk, Cinderella or the Piper of Hamelin all of
which certainly according to Narendra Modi are corrosive to little minds in
India!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If one were to agree to Modi’s convoluted (to mean devious)
thinking we could not have tasted the flavours of Anton Chekov and who could
forget the “Bet”? Leo Tolstoy’s, “God see’s the Truth but Waits”, for that I’m
sure would be a prescient on Modi and his era! Mister Modi , you may not have heard
of O.Henry’s , “The Trembling Leaf” and it is American- more alien
conveniently! He may not have even heard a word of “Aythihiya Mala” from this
Somalian land Kerala, (which in itself is an oeuvre that can be seen as Kerala’s
Arabian fables). Besides he may not even appreciate those tales for they are
alien to him and are uniquely Kerala. There lies the contradiction and the
bizarre understanding he has about culture, fables inspired by civilisations and
literature however quotidian they may be.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Does he know that Somerset Maugham’s “Appointment in Samara”,
was inspired by Katho Upanishad stories and also the old Mesopotamian fable? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What sets apart a Sanghi and ordinary mortals like many of
us are our exposure to such amazing and inspiring tales from a kaleidoscope of
cultures? It is that what enables us to imbibe ideas and values that enriches our
life. It’s a pity we have a prime minister who negates inclusion, values that
behold moral courage, ethics and goodness be it from any part of this planet. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well, I guess, perhaps Narendra Modi seldom had time to read
or even listen to such fables, for most of his childhood was spent meditating
in deep jungles and on the freezing snowy peaks of Himalayas. Some sacrifice
that he bore and now we bear that brunt! Poor us!<o:p></o:p></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script>linkwithin_text='Your custom text:'</script></div>anilkurup59http://www.blogger.com/profile/07961961217418715354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4448802533825615490.post-88057554497282191002019-04-14T11:24:00.001+05:302019-04-14T11:24:17.615+05:30tête-à-tête - but we were 4<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br /></div>
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</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVrdYYDRKbTAJn_Q4TcG1hyphenhyphenHjlLlRqmMtW51WRrHLeDUm1c7hQR70VU1X8gcOefnECwaV545ORjYbU168LKATxgPtFdazIxpy8aYzK8NyR6ci9VmGHcaTiv7X6EWpnNRFBC0cekocy0-Ix/s1600/dsc_0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVrdYYDRKbTAJn_Q4TcG1hyphenhyphenHjlLlRqmMtW51WRrHLeDUm1c7hQR70VU1X8gcOefnECwaV545ORjYbU168LKATxgPtFdazIxpy8aYzK8NyR6ci9VmGHcaTiv7X6EWpnNRFBC0cekocy0-Ix/s320/dsc_0001.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yesterday after dusk, I had three visitors! One of the
gentlemen was the local ward representative and two other respectable looking
men, I have not seen before. One was introduced as some scientist or somebody
with that label. Since they told me before the intro that they were the BJPs
representatives and had come to solicit my views and vote, I did not give much
credence to the science tag. I recalled, didn't we see Indian scientists sit
like jackasses when the big moron went on to narrate about plastic surgery in
ancient India and fixing of an elephant head on a human torso?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well, incidentally I had a couple of sundowners, was relaxed
and in no mood to talk politics especially with strangers. But I feared
provocation might melt my resolve. It did and that though after I repeatedly
told them there was nothing to discuss and I respected them asking my vote.
However they were persistent and then I told them politely that I have no
political leanings but a vote for BJP is impossible. They would not let go and
said they’d be keen to know why. I told them their ideology was antithesis to
what I cherish. Besides bigotry, divisiveness, hate and falsehood will seldom
build a country. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was keen to not be insensitive and was restrained, though
the Old Monk was playing a little truant within.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“Oh look at the things like STARTUP INDIA, GST etc and how
things are changing!” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I reminded them Startup India was still born and as for GST
that was not the BJP idea, in fact they finessed the MMS government when it
wanted to roll out. Later with 5 or 6 slabs of tax, the haste and the havoc,
utter chaos its botched implementation created, well that can be the credited
to Modi!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“But it takes time to change the system!”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“What system are you going to change or put in place? In fact
the BJP is up to destroying systems. Do you have any credible statistics on
GDP, jobs, agriculture output, farmer suicide etc? No! Everything is concocted.
Is it not?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No look at Nirav Modi and other folks who made money with
Congress help.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I do not know if they made money with someone in cahoots.
But they all bolted while Modi government looked the other way. What did the
Government do on Raghuram Rajan’s report on NPAS and defaulters?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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“Oh see we are trying to save Hinduism & Sabarimal!.The
census says Hindus are coming down in numbers.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What is there to save? As for Hinduism it has survived for
more than 3000 years and if the termites from within let it untouched it will
survive another millennium and more. Also, and the census report tells a
different story, in fact Muslim population is coming down and you folks are
creating fear psychosis. What is it about Sabarimal ? The BJP just wanted to
make an Ayodhya out of Sabarimala.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, we are for the sanctity and holiness of the place.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well that was eroded and destroyed by the Sangh. What were
you folks doing for 5 months in the name of a shrine? You have a nitwit, wild
ass as the State party President. What chaos did he create, didn’t we all see?
Then his pliable lose tongue wagged incessantly uttering idiocy. You guys even
made a martyr out of an alcoholic who doused himself with kerosene and lit
himself up. It reminded me of an old Malayalam movie where political parties
vie to usurp a cadaver. How can we forget the infamy of abusing women in the
name of Sabarimala. Didn’t we see a Sanghi fellow poised to smash coconut on a
woman’s head?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh well that was a Marxist man.” came a feeble rejoinder.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You see there is a sinister plot going on between Christian
evangelists and people like Amartya Sen.” I scoffed at that. Could not help and
even fresh from bed in the morning I’d have reacted the same.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Gentlemen tell me one important thing that your BJP have
highlighted in the past 6 months. Nothing but Sabarimala! Did you not know the
farmer suicide in Wayand? The havoc created by the flood and the rebuilding of
the State? Did you not know the alleged lapses in providing assistance post
flood? Did you not know the environmental degradation? Did you mention one
existential issue the State face? Sabarimala will bring no one a square-meal a
day. There are issues that beg for serious introspection and action. You guys
just saw a wonderful axe to grind in Sabarimala like Ayodhya you want it to
fester.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No the State government was against devotees.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The State government was against trouble makers and Sanghis
creating bedlam. The police was unusually restrained. How could you blame the
State for heeding the constitutional court’s ruling? Why could not the BJP
bring in legislation if that could have solved the issue? Besides who supported
the SC ruling? The Sangh and the BJP , then when you smelt opportunity you
somersaulted. Weren’t the petitioners favouring women entering the shrine BJP
and Sangh functionaries? Come on gentlemen you folks may get votes in the name
of Sabarimal , but not mine nor one from my family and each of us have our
strong opinion and outlook towards the life we cherish.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In afterthought, I told them I did not wish to have this
discussion at all and hope to have no rancour.. To which they condescended, it
was their privilege and wish to discuss.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“If you vote for our candidate, you will not regret; he is a
good candidate you will realize when he is the MP”.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I smiled! Taking the cue one gentleman said, “But also one
must look at the moral side of the candidate too”.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Who are we to comment or asperse on another man’s morality?
Well what is your morality? You soliciting votes from me, do you know my
morality?” I forgot to ask them what morality and ethics recommends kicking out
your wife and let her languish?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They must have felt enough was enough, they stood up to
leave and I politely saw them off at the gate.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By then my daughter sneakily photographed us chatting and
sent out whatsap messages that I may be kidnapped!<o:p></o:p></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script>linkwithin_text='Your custom text:'</script></div>anilkurup59http://www.blogger.com/profile/07961961217418715354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4448802533825615490.post-81220751391434247422019-03-02T10:09:00.004+05:302019-03-02T10:10:03.420+05:30<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir_JDo3jx6VnBOuPDpphb82qfkF1CcpB1XRJlP3khaK6lTWEJb6Amy3fB1A1sDA3iQJ-tXw89sBBDouxI2YfyWjc3FrgchBm6Ydy4NOIJv52LZz7BGwhhuY9amcoCWEWsx8J5KbNjS8Ef0/s1600/images+%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir_JDo3jx6VnBOuPDpphb82qfkF1CcpB1XRJlP3khaK6lTWEJb6Amy3fB1A1sDA3iQJ-tXw89sBBDouxI2YfyWjc3FrgchBm6Ydy4NOIJv52LZz7BGwhhuY9amcoCWEWsx8J5KbNjS8Ef0/s1600/images+%25283%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">I was introduced to The Hindu when I was about 8. Old man
was insistent that I read the editorial of the daily, regardless of what I
understood. Such was his despotism! But of all that he had in plenty this
particular fad I developed was of help to me in due course of time. I must admit
those days the reading or scouring the daily began from the ‘sports page’. As
time passed , I could agree with my old fella that indeed the Hindu Editorial
was an uniquely well written piece for its language ( content as well) and
like</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">the ubiquitous voice of Melville de
Mellow the Indian broadcaster </span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">whose
English news in the AIR was more English than the English could ever read
English.</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Melville de Mellow's affecting commentary that day in 1948
( nonstop for 7 hours ),articulating the nation's grief and homage as the
cortege of Mahatma Gandhi <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>moved towards
Raj Ghat, is remembered as one of the best instances of radio broadcasting in
India and world over. His élan of the language, articulation and above all
sensibility to the situation is something the shrieking wild reporters we saw
on India TV news channels over the past week lack and miserably so. For these
bunch of screeching primates, a tragedy, a poignant moment a solemn occasion is
seldom a plank that decides how the reportage must be. How dreadfully
insensitive and vexing, they can be over a dead mutilated corpse!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As for the media and in question The Hindu (which continued
to be among the few sober print daily), the events following the Pulwama – Modi’s<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>electoral adventure into Pakistan using the
IAF was so miserably reported that not one International news agency deemed it
even conditionally <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>quotable. To proclaim
that 300 terrorist or JEM militants holed up in training camps in Balakot (POK)
were killed in the IAF air raid, while in fact, not one dead donkey was retrieved
from the area IAF pounded, tells how pathetic Indian media have become and how equally
and shamelessly competent they are in toeing the flagitious falsehood and
malarkey the Government want them to carry.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Surely N.Ram you do owe an explanation, not because you are
what you are, but because The Hindu is an icon to many, an Institution, a
symbol and an example of conscientious journalism. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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The trumped up jingoistic fever since yesterday morning on various
Indian new channels was pure rodomontade and creating revulsion. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now those folks may vie and put Wing Commander
Abhinandan under the ‘hammer’ ,quote and under cut each other to accomplish an
exclusive of the pilot. This isn’t journalism, it is like voyeurism. When you
give undue credence to a snooty snollygoster, revoltingly grand standing Prime minister
who thrives on falsehood, misrepresentation and cunning you have rivaled Faust
to be Faustians.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Wing commander Abhinandan deserves bouquets for his resolute
conduct in alien captivity. His return is a grand relief for every Indian. Certainly
we have many such Abhinandans in our Military. But do remember, so do Pakistan!
Our enemy is another country’s hero and vice versa, valour has no confined
boundaries. Human beings my friends - all in flesh and blood, pain and contentment
there is nothing that jingoism, nationalism and unethical journalism can scoop
out as grandiloquent specially about Indians or for that matter a Pakistani.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script>linkwithin_text='Your custom text:'</script></div>anilkurup59http://www.blogger.com/profile/07961961217418715354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4448802533825615490.post-62782991855279935742018-12-03T11:20:00.000+05:302019-03-02T10:08:34.576+05:30The Urban Naxal called Vivek Agnihotri<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXvMmJsx8T6gNInNOBtA8YBWxO6D04mk9MiAf9MxNUfMyNe_AF6JpmJlpgdQ46rDxRCyulUnK8rZt12BGlG1T7xIFssf6-OsMSe0x0yCyT8r1L09L_hYMANYJdP5DEFQGvz0hLqL41KBR9/s1600/iPuaj0jU_400x400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXvMmJsx8T6gNInNOBtA8YBWxO6D04mk9MiAf9MxNUfMyNe_AF6JpmJlpgdQ46rDxRCyulUnK8rZt12BGlG1T7xIFssf6-OsMSe0x0yCyT8r1L09L_hYMANYJdP5DEFQGvz0hLqL41KBR9/s320/iPuaj0jU_400x400.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Vivek Agnihotri</span></b> has a few
credits to his name. Foremost he is a staunch defender of Hindutva and a
conscience keeper for the BJP. He spares no critic of the ruling saffron party.
Secondly he is the copy right holder for the term ‘urban naxal’!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Here in his Article “Why the SC verdict on Sabarimala is
flawed”, he mocks at the majority judgment (4 to 1) of the Constitution bench
of the Supreme Court in the Sabarimala women’s right to entry case. While
conceding his right to opinion, one cannot help not terming his stand idiotic,
myopic, misogynic and lacking in commonsense, let alone wisdom. Noodle-headed and
those who cannot see beyond saffron hue jump on to his bandwagon and endorsed
his article on social media. <o:p></o:p></div>
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He begins by saying that Sabarimala has nothing to do with
gender equality and it is about tradition and rituals. He tells us at the
beginning itself, he cannot see beyond his damn nose. He has no idea about the
changes that came across in both traditions and rituals in Sabarimala. Did he
know that the flag mast at the temple is a recent installation; the ‘Chithira
attam’ ritual opening, a very recent innovation; coconuts used to be thrown on
the footsteps (18 steps) by devotees while they climbed the holy stairway until
some years ago, convenience and matters of necessity put stop to that practice;
the ritual of rolling around, (prostrate) the main shrine- a vow of penance by
devotees has been done away with; the holy furnace at the footsteps of the
temple into which coconuts filled with ghee was poured and kept live through
the pilgrimage season is now out; the ‘padipooja’ <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>is a recent addition; devotees used to go by
foot all the way from their homes, bare foot and with meager provisions but now
journey is by air-conditioned luxury coach and cars; the customary 41 days of
penance is a selective matter now? Very soon a cable car would be added
purportedly to aid and facilitate pilgrims! What has become of the traditional
rights of the hill-tribes who conducted their rituals at the temple? Brahmanism
which Agnihotri zealously absolves of all wrong doings evicted the tribesmen
and usurped the temple. This will soon be another interesting saga of
litigation in the Supreme Court. The fraud called ‘Makar Jyoythi’ , or the holy
beacon during Makarsankranthi that used to flare up in the forest yonder ,
which the temple authorities sold the gullible pilgrims<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>as<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>celestial beacon from the heavens<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>has now been acknowledged as man-made. Worst Agnihotri may not be aware
that the presiding deity has been rechristened as ‘Ayyappa’ from the earlier
avatar called “Dharma Shastha” (ostensibly a Buddhist name). <o:p></o:p></div>
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Vivek Agnihotri, you must check how traditions and rituals
evolve, how one custom is superseded by newer rituals and customs. Wonder if
any Sanghi has elementary knowledge of those facts. Then his amusing but
dangerous take that as long as traditions and rituals do not hurt others they
must continue. Well mister it does hurt, it does hurt women because many
silently bear the brunt of patriarchal overbearingness which morons throw on
them in the name of traditions and customs – whether they are family members,
colleagues or subordinates. The ban Hindutva is trying to enforce on fecund,
menstrual age women going to that shrine is nothing but a branding iron used to
defile womanhood, mark her as servile to men. You may now say, “Oh women who go
there are hussies flocking to the shrine to honey-trap the celibate God”! What
a cruel joke Vivek Agnihotri! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your
spouse and kids, they must hang their head in shame!<o:p></o:p></div>
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You simply have no idea about the past, the history of
Sabarimal when you use the borrowed word “Naisthika<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bramachari” and invoke a fable. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Can you quote one Thantric tome that can tell
the so called celibate nature of Ayappa or the deity there? This was also
looked into threadbare by the Supreme Court. I’m curious who told you that
puberty arrives and menstrual age ends with clockwork precision at 10 years of
age and then at 5o? Mister are you aware that women were going to that shrine
until the Kerala High Court took cognizance of a writ and banned them from the
shrine in 1991? Are you aware that women of all ages were going to Sabarimal
until recently, a fact as vivid as day light? Are you aware that since 2006 the
Supreme Court had sieved through every shred of evidence put forth by all the
parties concerned? Which should also remind you that the God there has not been
celibate, now for very long! For goodness don’t be unjust to the God of Sabarimala
and insist he be consigned to eternal celibacy when many of you - the
offended<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>faithful l(sic) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>indulge and revel in epicurean life, orgy and
fornication. Oh come on! We all know what kind of vow are borne by these men
who go there. Not even 1 percent abides by the dictates of custom and
tradition. <o:p></o:p></div>
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You claim our Justice System and Constitution is based on
Western binary system. Goodness what the heck is that? The binary? Mister Agnihotri,
one doesn’t have to be erudite, an academician or a scholar to know some basic facts.
The worst self-infliction - the label of a buffoon is asserting something of
which your knowledge is thin, nil or incorrect. Indian Constitution and
Jurisprudence do have influence of the English, the French, the Roman and the
US Constitution and laws. Above all our Constitution was not framed overnight,
copy pasting from the West, but also imbibing various objective lessons of life
down the centuries and the unique ideas thrown up by various reform movements. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Article 14 which dwells on the Right to Equality was
influenced by the ideals thrown up by the French Revolution – ‘Liberty’!
Liberty, was freedom from oppression; equality also underpinned the French
Revolution, not to forget fraternity. Article 14 of the Indian Constitution
which you trivalised as the copycat of the Western binary, states, “The State
shall not deny to any person equality before the law or the equal protection of
the laws within The Territory of India.” Article 15 (1) & (2) prohibits the
State from discriminating any citizen on ground of any religion, race, Caste,
sex, or place of birth or any of them. Now you and the saffron brigade would
invoke Article 25 which guarantees religious rights and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>freedom, but what you men do not realise is,
if the rights <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>mentioned in the Article
25 violates the ones in Article 14 and 15, the later would prevail. This is the
corner stone of Indian democracy and this tome <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>you
rubbish as Western and unfit for the complexity that is India, is what dictates
all men are born equal and the right to equality is paramount and inviolable.
In fact the power that you derive to criticise and speak your mind is derived
from this basic structure of the constitution. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hence your stand is asinine, idiotic and nonsensical.
The Supreme Court clearly defines the spirit of Indian Constitution, that when
the beliefs of a group, of a collective threatens the right of an individual
the right of an individual will and must prevail. The purloining notion folks
like you proclaim, in this era of neo-liberalism, “collective common good” is
dumped in the ocean here.<o:p></o:p></div>
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You seem to allude and I guess it is more a form of subtle
and intelligent innuendo that the Supreme Court is insisting on women going
there. You even asperse that the bench was dominated by men in a matter
concerning women. Well what you ignore is the matter is more than women rights
it concerns male hegemony and patriarchal hideousness. To put matters in the
right perspective four of the five women petitioners went to the SC and filed
the petition to allow women of all ages to enter Sabarimala were all with the
RSS affiliation. It is no secret that the RSS was foremost in supporting women
entering the shrine and said unfair traditions should be jettisoned. Why the
volte face now is quite a simple matter known even to a child. The Supreme
Court verdict clearly states that it is violation of Article 14 to prohibit
women from the shrine and ruled that those who wish to go to the shrine must be
free to go. You emphasise much ado on “devotion” and “devotees”. Pray do you
have a yard stick to determine devotion and who is a devotee?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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You say triple talaq is a bad custom but calling women
impure because of their physiological characteristics is not, amusing man! In
the same tone one can also ask why dalits must be allowed into Hindu temples.
Banning them is harmless. Untouchability is harmless, because if you have such marginalised
people all menial works in the society can be entrusted to them! How would you
differentiate between a harmless custom and the ones that hurt and offend? The
Bombay High Court verdict on women entering Shani temple Sighnapur did not
offend your tradition and customs?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Laws reflect the spirit of times. The Courts may have in
their wisdom held a different view 70 years ago. The anachronistic colonial - Victorian
puritanical hangover law, Article 377 which criminalised homosexuality and
which the Supreme Court refused to strike down a few years ago stands shred
away and thrown out today. Consenting adults having physical relationship is no
more adultery. LGBT citizens are not anymore seen as pariahs, they get to lead
a dignified life like any of us. Well your traditionalists must be peeved.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Your acumen makes one roll about laughing incessantly. You
say that the Courts should only pronounce verdicts that are ‘implementable’!
Well why then should we have Courts?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Each one to himself and let us revel in anarchy, the powerful wins over
the meek and the marginalised. Worst still is your comment on the Court verdict
deciding the 500 meter distance of liquor vending shops from State and National
highways. Do you know that , the Court could have refused to make suitable
amendments to the verdict on alcohol vending shops, because right to consume
alcohol is not a fundamental right but as the merit dictated when a verdict has
to be reviewed it was done. As for loud speakers blaring from mosques and other
religious places, is it not a collective contempt and dishonor of the Court
ruling by one and all? If someone goes back with a petition contempt of Court
will befall on quite a few. Well mister this disregard of a Court verdict is by
no means an achievement to be proud of for a society that calls itself
civilised.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“In case of
Sabarimala, I believe, the interpretation of the Supreme Court is flawed and
against the grain of Hindu faith and the religious freedom as defined by Dr.
Amabaedkar the founder of the Indian Constitution.” Oh goodness Mister Vivek
Agnihotri, you are blundering nonsense, idiocy and ignorance at every turn. In
the first place there was no founder for the Indian Constitution. Mr.Ambaedkar
was the Chairman of the Constitution drafting committee and independent India’s
first law minister, not the founder. There were 7 prominent members in the
committee and they were not nitwits or Hindumahasbha/RSS bigots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, the Courts decide matters on merit and
at the touch stone of Constitutional provisions and there the fundamental
rights predominate. Hence you saying that the Courts are to honour the grain of
Hindu faith or for that matter any faith is outright rubbish and a vacuous
statement. India is not a theocratic State!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Have you heard of the Vaikom Satygraham (1924-25) which was
against the Brahmin custom that banned low caste, dalits and untouchables from
thoroughfares around the Vaikom Siva temple? Have you heard about the
Guruvayoor Temple Satygraham (1931-32) which was for the rights of untouchables
to enter the temple? Have you heard about the “Villuvandi’ agitation
spearheaded by the great social reformer Ayankali which was to assert rights of
untouchables to walk the thoroughfare? Do you know that the Temple Entry
proclamation by the erstwhile Travancore Maharaja offended the traditionalist
Brahmins and the custodians of customs? Have you heard about the consecration
of the deity of Siva at Aruvipuram , Kerala by the social reformer Sree Narayan
Guru a low caste? That was grossly offensive and against all tradition and
custom. Well one can lay out to you scores of such iconoclasm and rejection of
age long customs & traditions. Kerala society evolved through rejections
and imbibing, all societies do and longevity of customs is only as long as the
spirit of time.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I think Mister Agnihotri, you need to also read a bit of
Kerala history and the role reformation played in the social life. I encourage
you to do that than sit in your damn ivory elitist tower and regurgitate utter
nonsense and ill will.<o:p></o:p></div>
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You state, “Judiciary’s foremost duty is the protection of
that faith….” Again you blare loud your ignorance and naiveté if not gross
stupidity. Go back get the copy of the Indian Constitution and read it,
carefully and see if you can soak up the core values enshrined in it. If it
does, you too would, I promise become an ‘Urban Naxal’! <o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script>linkwithin_text='Your custom text:'</script></div>anilkurup59http://www.blogger.com/profile/07961961217418715354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4448802533825615490.post-77598490782663462222018-11-22T13:52:00.000+05:302018-11-22T13:52:01.316+05:30The Moment of Reckoning for Trivandrumites<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg92dUAK_fj5YC-LxTR_pMMpxQHBn8ab2E-kZyCkWwCHJLDttYxkcu8w-nAynKHzn43YC9_z9xruQ31rrUmHcOBDe_cNDmHkYtxvgznap_MVj83IiDz_pJbeTsld8mwP-Y3HjWmY99p08d6/s1600/shashi-tharoor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="230" data-original-width="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg92dUAK_fj5YC-LxTR_pMMpxQHBn8ab2E-kZyCkWwCHJLDttYxkcu8w-nAynKHzn43YC9_z9xruQ31rrUmHcOBDe_cNDmHkYtxvgznap_MVj83IiDz_pJbeTsld8mwP-Y3HjWmY99p08d6/s1600/shashi-tharoor.jpg" /></a></div>
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Shashi Tharoor’s charm and persona that enticed voters,
certainly women, elite, middle class and the ones at the lower end of the
economic ladder, have definitely taken a hit in recent months. Not so much because
of his tardy stand on women entering the Sabarimala shrine, but by default because
of the utter lack of sense and loss of direction of his party’s State unit. If
his party the Congress is a concubine of the BJP well, why not treat concubine
as one? Why prefer the concubine over the master- the BJP? Voters have a valid reasoning here! His image
seldom was hit so badly as many say, not even during the immediate aftermath of the misfortune of his
wife’s premature death and the orchestrated campaign of vilification by the BJP
notwithstanding.</div>
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Of the 12, 42,901 registered voters in the Thiruvanthapuram
Parliamentary constituency 51.9 percent are women. The communal equation (deciding
Nadar community votes) in the constituency always favoured the Congress, and
literally bailed out Mr.Tharoor in the 2014 Loksabha election. In 2014, at the same
time, there was considerable distancing of Nair and Brahmin votes which went in
favour of the BJP candidate the octogenarian O.Rajagopal. One may say that was
the whiff of the Modi wave blowing across the Ghats! Whether there was such
possibility or not, Nair & Brahmin votes did square up against Tharoor.<span style="mso-tab-count: 10;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now Thiruvanthapuram district with 66.5
percent Hindu votes would prove to be the Waterloo for Tharoor who squeezed
past the pole the previous time and by a whisker (obviously the Nadar/fisher
folk votes came into play in his favour in the less than 15000 margin that saw
him pull ahead at the finishing line. But this time around with the vile
shenanigans of the BJP/Sangh, the utter lack of individuality of the Congress and
a weak ‘intrinsic liberal’ statement of Shashi Tharoor himself , together with
the strong decisive stand of the Pinaryi Govt regardless of the possibility of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>core Hindu votes deserting the LDF, the BJP
may stand to gain. </div>
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The ensuing<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>scenario,
should that happen may be disastrous not just for the Congress , a shame for Shashi
Tharoor but an utterly ominous moment for the State as a whole. A BJP win in
Thriuvanthapram will be more so cataclysmic not because of the BJP winning, but
the constituency losing out on Shashi Tharoor to represent it in parliament. Sieve
incessantly, search the netherworld and their stables the BJP or the Sangh
cannot prop up an able opposite number to Shashi Tharoor. Imagine a vacuous, naïve,
scandal stained nitwit like Sreesanth or a matinee idol (whose only achievement
outside the tinsel world is blogging through ghost writers singing paeans of
Modi) representing Thiruvanathpuram constituency! </div>
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What Thiruvanthapuram would lose if it vote for candidate other
than Tharoor be it for the BJP based on the current chaos they orchestrated vis
a vis Sabarimala or a Left nominee (who ever that may be),is a suave man,
persona of class, bipartisan and belonging to a rare breed of politicians
seldom seen in politics in the country, a communicator and listener par
excellence- two qualities that has to be sine qua non in a public figure especially
a representative in the law making body , an articulate customer, a person of
international repute and an able diplomat, an efficient parliamentarian, digitally
inclined and tech savvy, thoughtful and visionary.</div>
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Shashi Tharoor moved the private bill against criminalisation
of homosexuality, a move that resonated spirit of the time, a few years before
the Supreme Court struck down section 377, after refusing to remove it off the
statute earlier. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But as the
personalities of many of the parliamentarians tell us, twice the bills were
voted out in parliament. No representative had the decent audacity to pilot
such a bill which could usher in a much wanted civlised atmosphere in the
society. He was the strongest voice in the opposition on the disaster called
demonetisation, botched GST, the scams that are dime a dozen now, the Lok pal
and the very many needs of Kerala . </div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 5;"> </span>This was what “The
Telegraph” of Calcutta had to comment on Shashi Tharoor’s removal as the
Congress spokesperson. “For an opposition MP to have and to exercise the freedom
to appreciate a good thing done by the government and for a ruling party MP to
speak and vote against the party line is not just legitimate parliamentary practice
, it is the very essence of parliamentary democracy. Shashi Tharoor , from the
Congress has tried to do that there is not one BJP MP who has matched him.
Blind conformism is not loyalty, nor independent thinking, dissent.” </div>
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For a man who showed great courage, foresight and awareness
in raising his stand against Sec 377 and the equally forthright stand on very
many socio-cultural and economic issues , indeed the weakling was the miserable
“intrinsic liberal” stand<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a few days ago
on the Supreme Court Judgment<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>on women
entering Sabarimala. I’m sure he must have been at loss and pain to tell his
own conscience the monumental sophism in that stand which he took, that the Courts
must use the litmus test of societal acceptance when ruling on matters of
faith, belief and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>customs. If Trivandrumites eventually succumb and be swayed by the political shenanigans thrown up on women entering Sabarimala, the false narrative of alleged planned destruction of the Sabarimal shrine, the orchestrated threat to Hindus, the bogey of minorities bludgeoning Hindus out of existence and the many other porkies, and innuendos it would be a sad day when the Gods themselves would wail inconsolably for Thiruvanthapuram. </div>
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Worse,Thriuvanthapuram would lose irretrievably if a parochial,
mean, obscurantist, moronic, bigot dethrones Shashi Tharoor . </div>
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Trivandrumites
will rue that day!</div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script>linkwithin_text='Your custom text:'</script></div>anilkurup59http://www.blogger.com/profile/07961961217418715354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4448802533825615490.post-57927265009295973872018-11-20T09:11:00.005+05:302018-11-20T09:13:39.601+05:30Vox Populi on Sabarimala <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i> ( Sabarimala in the 1940's photographed by the prince of the erstwhile Travancore)</i></div>
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I watched an NDTV interview of about a dozen men pilgrims at
the Sanidhanam , Sabarimala. What is glaring are some disheartening facts,
though the flip side is, almost all of them were against violence and the boorishness
shown towards women venturing to the temple following the Supreme Court verdict.
Presumably there were no true (sic) devotees<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>in that group!<o:p></o:p></div>
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None of them interviewed seem to have even basic knowledge
of the Supreme Court verdict, the words used by the Court and the philosophy,
the thought behind the Court’s judgment. Secondly the veiled misogyny was
raising its hood in quite a few observations. While all of them were steadfast
holding on to what they claim to be customs, sentiments <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and tradition that they believe have been in force
for centuries, their utter lack of the knowledge and awareness of the history
of Sabarimala and even the recent history and happenings ( of the past 50
years) sounded dampening .<o:p></o:p></div>
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One gentleman even went on to say there are a thousand
Ayappa temples world over and why could not women go there and leave Sabarimala
to the glory of traditions and customs. Yet another went on to express the ungodliness
around menstruation. Another bloke wanted Pinarayi Vijayan to demand the Center
to bring an ordinance nullifying the Supreme Court verdict. He even cited the
Jallikattu .<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt ridiculous hearing
his asinine talk and utter lack of knowledge about the matter. Dreadful it was
one fellow even said that women should tend their home and look into other
matters of social importance. The only sane voice sounded that, perhaps the
Government ought to have bought more time from Courts.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Some even spoke about the glory of sentiments and customs
over the Constitution and how popular sentiments must prevail over the
Constitution.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I wished in the end I did not watch the damned interview. It
was disheartening, very, very much. But then as it was after the Guruvayoor
temple doors were thrown open to Dalits and untouchables in 1936 , it took 12
long years till 1948 for the first untouchable to enter that temple. Social
change has been sparked off, the fuse is lit, but the time to the keg of powder
that would bring down the wall of bigotry and obscurantism in smithereens will
take a while.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script>linkwithin_text='Your custom text:'</script></div>anilkurup59http://www.blogger.com/profile/07961961217418715354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4448802533825615490.post-15790085462950746422018-11-18T09:28:00.003+05:302019-04-14T11:27:10.972+05:30Intolerance of Fascists<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">സംഘ്പരിവാർ</span>
-<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ബിജെപി</span> /<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">മാർക്സിസ്റ്റ്</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">കൾക്കു</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">തമ്മിലുള്ള</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">വ്യത്യാസം</span>
<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ചർമത്തിന്റെ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ആഴത്തിൽ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">മാത്രമേയുള്ളു</span> .<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ഇരുവരും</span>
<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">അഭിപ്രായങ്ങളെയും</span> ,<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">എതിർ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ചിന്താഗതികളെയും</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ഭയപ്പെടുന്നു</span>
.<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">അവരുടെ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ചിന്താഗതിയാണ്</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">സത്യം</span> ,<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">അതാണ്</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">വെളിച്ചമെന്ന്</span>
<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">കണ്ണടച്ചു</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">വിശ്വസിക്കുന്നതിനാൽ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">വെളിച്ചമെന്താണെന്ന്</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ആ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">കൂട്ടർക്ക്</span>
<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ഇനിയും</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">മനസിലായിട്ടില്ല</span> .<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">സുനിൽ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ഇളയിടാത്തതിന്റെ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">നേരെയുള്ള</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">നീച</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">പ്രവർത്തി</span>
<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">അവരുടെ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">അധമ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">സംസ്കാരത്തെയാണ്</span>
<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">വിളിച്ചോതുന്നത്</span>.<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">പ്രതിയോഗിയെ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">കിട്ടിയിലെങ്കിൽ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">നാക്കെടുക്കാപ്രാണികളെ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">വരെ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ചുട്ടെരിക്കുന്ന</span>
<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">സംസ്കാരമാണെല്ലോ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">നമ്മൾ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">കണ്ടിട്ടുള്ളത്</span>. <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">പാപ്പിനിശ്ശേരി</span>
<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">പാമ്പു</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">വളർത്തൽ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">സങ്കേതത്തിൽ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">മാർക്സിസ്റ്റുകാർ</span>
<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">കാട്ടിയ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">നിഷ്</span><span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ഠുരത</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ഇനിയും</span>
<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">അതിന്റെ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">പൈശാചിക</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">രൂപത്തിൽ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">നമ്മളുടെയൊക്കെ</span>
<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">മനസുകളിൽ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">തങ്ങിനിൽകുന്നില്ലേ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ഇപ്പോഴും</span> ?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">എന്താണ്</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ഈ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">കൂട്ടർ</span>
<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ഭയക്കുന്നത്</span>? <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ആശയങ്ങളെ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ആശയങ്ങൾ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">കൊണ്ട്</span>
<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">നേരിടാനുള്ള</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">കഴിവുകേട്</span>, <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ഭയം</span> , to put it in simple words 'impotency ', <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">അല്ലാതെ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">വേറെ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">എന്താണ്</span>
? <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ബഹുസ്വരത</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">അവരെ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">വിറളിപിടിപ്പിക്കുന്നു</span>.!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">എല്ലാത്തിനും</span>
<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ഒരു</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ഓമന</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">പേരും</span>,
<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ന്യായവാദവും</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ഉണ്ടാവും</span> - <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">മനോവികാരത്തേ</span> , <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">വിശ്വാസത്തെ</span>
<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">വ്രണപ്പെടുത്തി</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">എന്ന്</span> ! <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">അയലത്തെ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">വീട്ടിലെ</span>
<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">നായ്</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ഒന്ന്</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">കുരച്ചാൽ</span>
<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">തെറിച്ചു</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">പോകുന്ന</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">വിശ്വാസ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">പ്രമങ്ങളാണോ</span>
<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ഇവർ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">പേറി</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">നടക്കുന്നത്</span>
? <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ഹാ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">കഷ്ടം</span>!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">തൊടുപുഴ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ന്യൂമാൻ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">കോളജിലെ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">അധ്യാപകന്റെ</span>
<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">കൈത്തണ്ട</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ഛേദിച്ച</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">പിശാശുക്കളും</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ഇവരും</span>
<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">തമ്മിലുള്ള</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">അകലം</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">അവരുടെ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">പേരുകളിൽ</span>
, <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">സംഘടനയുടെ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">പേരുകളിലുള്ള</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ലിപികളുടെ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">വ്യത്യാസം</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">മാത്രമേയുള്ളു</span>
. <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ശ്രീ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">സുനിൽ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ഇളയിടത്തിനു</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">എല്ലാ</span>
<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">വിധത്തിലുമുള്ള</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ധാർമികമായ</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ഐകമത്യം</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">രേഖപ്പെടുത്തി</span>
<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">കൊള്ളട്ടേ</span> . <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">അന്തരിച്ച</span> <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">ചിന്തകനും</span> , <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">പത്ര</span>
<span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">പ്രവർത്തകനുമായ</span> Christopher
Hitchens <span style="font-family: "Kartika","serif";">പറഞ്ഞപോലെ</span> , “Never
be a spectator of unfairness or stupidity. The grave will supply plenty of time
for silence.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script>linkwithin_text='Your custom text:'</script></div>anilkurup59http://www.blogger.com/profile/07961961217418715354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4448802533825615490.post-47103710300899982812018-11-10T14:53:00.000+05:302018-11-10T14:53:07.481+05:30<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPYan33hW-HpHo3zJ_ZkCF3_47W0_7y-UsNs-Pv2cxN8QOUg1jV7bxPg9Uk1gR_gyzOoXNgGvC281VxYRHDBdaw8msz47RWuYQQ1xOPoMt7vITmXnaOuvhbNZ454KCfLVEDgxJU-PI31YP/s1600/sabri.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="300" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPYan33hW-HpHo3zJ_ZkCF3_47W0_7y-UsNs-Pv2cxN8QOUg1jV7bxPg9Uk1gR_gyzOoXNgGvC281VxYRHDBdaw8msz47RWuYQQ1xOPoMt7vITmXnaOuvhbNZ454KCfLVEDgxJU-PI31YP/s320/sabri.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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There is a welcome outcome from all this furore, madness and
cacophony about women entering Sabarimala. The articles, the debates on TV
channels, the arguments and suddenly the plethora of information on Sabarimala,
its past, the Indian constitution and its haloed basic principles all have suddenly
come out to the center stage. Indeed one may have noticed a few anti
women-entry friends & acquaintances, some who unlike the Indo –Pak soldiers
at the Wagha border gates and their
energetic theatrics frown at you for real and murmur, “damn you anti Hindu –hindu”.</div>
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What the Sangh & the BJP along with other fascist fringe
elements that constitute the Hindutva dynasty have inadvertently done through
their sudden U-turn and opposition to the question of women entering Sabarimala,
is in hindsight favourable to the society. It may facilitate the ushering in of
an unstoppable debate, liveliness and paradigm change in the social psyche of
Kerala. A 21 st century renaissance, if I may! Conservative opposition apart,
in the form of “nama japa yatras”, I doubt if the rightwing can sustain their
vile and opportunistic campaign of falsehood. For the incessant debates, the profusion
of information that aids unbiased and dispassionate judgments have also allowed
people to understand the flagitious agenda of the BJP-Sangh combine. The
despicable and sinister game plan came out of the evil mule’s (K. Sredharan
Pilla- the BJP State supremo) mouth itself in the form of braggadocio and
hopefully the gullible who heeded to his call for Hindutva jihadh will take notice.
<o:p></o:p></div>
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The so called Royals of Pandalam may rue the day they voiced
their objection against the Supreme Court judgment. Thus opened up this social
consciousness which is now threatening to dispossess them of their
self-proclaimed rights and reverse their appropriation of the Sabarimala. Their
locus –standi is as questionable as the writ of the 500 odd princess in the
post Independent India. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The Tantri clan has walked themselves into a snare set up by
themselves and is now like crooks trapped in an oubliette. A possible contempt
of Court stare at them as much as the story of how they purloined the
Malayarayans and their rights over the shrine.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The narrative that the State Govt ought to have bought
sometime to educate the masses on the SC judgment on the facts about the shrine
and the falsehood of the so called customs cannot be ignored. Well though one
cannot rubbish them , yet the question remains was there any recourse to the
Govt other than abide by the SC ruling on the question that touched the basic principles
enshrined in the constitution?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script>linkwithin_text='Your custom text:'</script></div>anilkurup59http://www.blogger.com/profile/07961961217418715354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4448802533825615490.post-66941592508176933362018-04-15T16:54:00.001+05:302018-04-15T16:54:07.935+05:30The Monkey God <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Polemics are always frowned upon. But that is because you feel your contention and comfort zone is threatened. At the same time when you make fantastic claims it must be supported not by fantastic faith but verifiable evidence. “That which can be asserted without evidence can be dismissed without evidence.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Yesterday on this holy and zealously individual place called “my wall” on ‘face book’ a post someone posted happened to reflect on my Timeline. It was fascinating news of Hanuman Jayanthi being celebrated. Naturally my temperament did not let me ignore it. I posted a comment which read, “Goodness me finally they found the birth date of the Monkey God!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Now tell me was there any rudeness and disparaging tone in that remark? Absolutely not, I can tell and argue with reason. But the gentlemen who posted took umbrage at it and replied rather menacingly. “Desist...from making such an insulting words for the gods....and if you have any problem keep it with yourself ...If I start pointing the fingers ok on banana State of for yours ( Kerala)…. .” I really did not understand the last part, though. Moreover since the word <i>'jayanthi'</i> is understood to mean birth date, it was also natural to wonder , how the heck they established that.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I politely asked him in my reply what was insulting in my observation. Wasn’t Hanuman member of the monkey clan? Folks considering him God don’t alter his race. Does it? But he would have none of it. He warned me to desist from trolling. Well, I rest matters there as Facebook seems to be held and guarded zealously by many people where they can tell whatever they want, but frowns upon any critical comments. That, one must not ever agree.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">But the question remained, “Did they uncover the birth date of Hanuman, the Monkey God.?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This morning different post from another gentleman reflected on my page. There was a picture of a clan of monkeys being fed (they were seated like at a table and partaking). The caption read “Vanara sena- Hanuman Jayanthi party.”<br />Now, interestingly the gentleman who posted this is a staunch Hindu and an ardent fan of the saffron brigade.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />Now where did I err? In asking if they really uncovered Hanuman’s birth date? Or did I err in calling Hanuman- ‘Monkey God’? I began to wonder but soon understood there was nothing to be astonished about.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I repeat the quote I mentioned earlier. “What can be asserted without evidence, can be dismissed without evidence”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">To use the social media to purvey and assert one’s fantasies, bias, and idiosyncrasies or bizarre claims supporting ones belief system or political affiliations cannot be done without inviting criticism and scrutiny. If you do, yes you may do it, but don’t act offended when someone ask you to prove your fantastic assertion. There is no mockery and trolling in it. It is sarcastic reply to your eccentric and assertion.<br />Take it or leave it. Its social media and it’s an open space.</span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script>linkwithin_text='Your custom text:'</script></div>anilkurup59http://www.blogger.com/profile/07961961217418715354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4448802533825615490.post-26947551384180016412018-02-25T13:19:00.000+05:302018-02-25T13:19:09.902+05:30The Malayalee<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Deluge of anguished posts, statements that seem to not cease, (but will only last for a few more days are flooding the social media sites)! This began the day the news broke out about a mentally unstable tribal youth being lynched in a tribal hamlet in Kerala for allegedly stealing rice. He was thrashed mercilessly by the mob of puritans (sic) and succumbed due to severe internal injuries. The killing was not done at the behest of the Cow brigade, not by the Commies , not by the Jihadists and not by the Congis. But by Keralites- ordinary Malayalees! Some of whom even boasted selfies like game hunters pose with their trophy of a kill.<br />
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Cherry picking by the Sangh fans , bringing back quotes from Narendra Modi's infamous speech while electioneering in Kerala that allegedly compared the State with the dystopian Somalia is being revived. "I told you so!"<br />
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There has been no <i>hartals </i>and <i>bandhs</i> sponsored by the political parties to protest the brutality. For a dispossessed mentally deranged tribesman cannot be in the voters list. The political henchmen and masters seem to be muted in response. Perhaps the scale of the act may have even numbed their senses.<br />
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Am I incensed, angusihed, sad? Oh no, not at all !<br />
Such bestiality need not necessarily be the privilege of the Sanghis in the Sangh dominated lands of the cow-belt. We Keralites are indeed adept in perpetrating the most despicable, heinous of acts and a herd mentality can in fact bring out the best of barbarian in us. We need not be a Sanghi, a Commie or Islamist to assert that. <br />
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Yes we Malayalees zealously bathe every morning, wear pristine white dhoti and shirt, we unfailingly read a couple of newspapers and boast about our literacy and wisdom; we believe we have expertise within us to assert on any subject that is thrown at us ; we think slightly of people from other parts of the country and the world; we think deprecatingly of others for we indeed (claim) are yards ahead culturally and socially. We kvetch about expat youth from other States who fill-in for blue collared, lay jobs that the arrogance of our educated ( but unemployable) youth scorn.We are deeply religious and spiritual- flocking to churches on Sundays, observe lent and Eid with astounding piety, do not miss namaz and as decreed perform that ritual five times a day, make temple festivities a cultural statement. We are both outraged and indulgent in public display of affection. Well the lists that tells our primacy among societies are never ending.<br />
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But look aren't we just like any other depraved minds, we think exists elsewhere? The beast trapped in our human body manifests often in fashion similar- a hapless mentally compromised youth can be wretchedly assaulted and left to die, a pregnant woman is kicked in her stomach that the pregnancy is miscarried, a father has no qualms in sexually violating his girl child...., a Gulf returnee who dreamed of his own automobile workshop is forced into misery by communists and takes out his anguish for ever by hanging himself.......!<br />
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And yet we claim to be a civilisation and society apart, decked in intellectual glory and prideful.<br />
Hypocrisy thy name is Malayalee!</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script>linkwithin_text='Your custom text:'</script></div>anilkurup59http://www.blogger.com/profile/07961961217418715354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4448802533825615490.post-10114253402818017662017-12-02T13:18:00.001+05:302017-12-02T13:18:53.222+05:30<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">All said,
be it Padmavati, Sexy Durga, Satanic Verses, MF Husain’s "Saraswati", Taslima Nasreen's, “Shame”
, Nicholas Kazanzthika’s “The Last Temptation of Christ” or Meera Nair's
"Fire", what has been pilloried and strangled is the right of
expression and speech, to criticize, to creative freedom and use the creation to
critique a system, thought belief or a
person.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">However
dispassionate I get, I cannot totally forego the traces of mischief and may be
a plot for possible commercial windfall in naming a painting or a movie
provocatively. This is why I feel SunilKumar Sasidharan must cross his heart
and confess to or refute the motive I allege him of.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> MF Husain had a host of other names to caption
his painting of a nude decorated woman and “Saraswati” was a silly choice. SanalKumar
Sasidharan had a plethora of names from which to choose one for his movie.
Neither did! That either ought to be stupid, specious or cunning. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
content of Sexy Durga as I can understand has nothing titillating or sexy about
the protagonist. So a name that did not have that prefix would have fared
uneventful. Just “Durga” would have avoided these controversies. Moreover when
asked to change the name the producer over imposed “XXX” on the alphabets “exy”
in the word SEXY. Wasn’t that trifle suggestive and mischievous? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Now what
right does the puritanical (sic) brigade, be it the Hindutva forces, the Islamists,
the Rajputs or any others have to proclaim fatwa and order violence upon an
author, a film maker or a painter for her/his oeuvre? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The much
fancied the then young Prime minister Rajeev Gandhi who we thought would be a
harbinger of fresh young air, disappointed when he succumbed to Muslim vote
banks and proscribed Salman Rushdie’s “Satanic Verses and also circumvent the Supreme
Court order in the Sha Bano case. Those of you who do not know the 10 years of
turbulent and hounded life Salam Rushdie lived, after Ayatollah Khomeni ordered
he be killed, must read his autobiographical work “Joseph Anton”. The whole civilized
system and governments in multiple countries succumbed to the mad mullah in
Tehran who ordered killing of Rushdie. That idiot may not even have read that
work. Democratic societies world over being held to ransom by Islamist forces
began with the <i>“la affaire Salman Rushdie”.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Now when
you say that the limits of expression and creativity are subservient to another
person’s like and dislike, you are being a censor and an obscurantist. If you
say that terrorists have a right to kill people who put up cartoons or
paintings and even novelettes criticizing or lampooning their God or prophet,
you are only endorsing the terrorists’ argument that rest of the World must acquiesce
and follow their unitary beliefs and not be different or dissenting. What then is the society you are expecting to
have? A homogeneous, vacuous, scrawny moronic world? What then about the
colourful diversity of thought, belief system, culture, tradition, languages etc
that adds vibrancy and interest to life? Plow them down under and cover us with
black cloak like Grim Reapers?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">In Kerala
the ancient art form of “Chakiarkoothu” is a medium to taunt, lampoon, mock, criticize,
rubbish, shame, rebuke and rebut a person or system. Kings and rulers were mercilessly
critiqued and mocked by the artists; the current art of mimicry is precisely a
variant of the old “Chakiarkoothu”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">As much
as one has the right to be hurt and flaunt offended sentiments, a writer or an
artist must have the right to offend and critique. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">If
religious sentiments and emotions were hurt by using a prefix to the name Durga
or the movie ‘Padmavati”, well what must first be banned ought to be the
mythological treatise such as Ramayana, Mahabharata or the Bible. Wherein there
is surfeit of incest, misogyny, sadomasochism, rape, violence, sex, sleaze, bestiality,
sodomy and whatever you can think of as offensive to the pristine sentiments. I’m
told the 12<sup>th</sup> century treatise of Jayadeva, “Geetha Govindam” which
describes the fantastic relationship between Krishna and his maidens the
Gopikas , has enough and more that would pale D.H.Lawrence’s , “Lady Chatterly’s
Lover” and Charles Devereaux ‘s “Venus in India” . Should they be burnt or proscribed?
Well should Khajuraho and Konark be pulled own and the many Hindu temples too?
Should Naga sanyasis be rounded up and forcibly clothed or forced into the
ocean with millstones around their necks?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">It is
utterly ridiculous and inane to be anguished over a movie, its name, a painting
or a book. At least here in India where
we have great tradition of dissent, heterogeneity and argumentation as well as
tolerance. To argue that the Abrahamic world are far sinister and intolerant is
a childish argument because the choice we have is, should we accompany them and
stay like them in a barbaric archaic mental existence or use the greatness of
Indian culture to look forward.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script>linkwithin_text='Your custom text:'</script></div>anilkurup59http://www.blogger.com/profile/07961961217418715354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4448802533825615490.post-24514865858136520352017-11-07T15:31:00.001+05:302017-11-07T15:31:05.475+05:30Cartoonist Bala<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxIOnsgLu6OUbpM0KyJYCLg3fk7i8rrrbhF71J0VchSPKi62BdqkPSboVKJTt7EhBDyv01brtUpmu6jBbAq3q7neRqkqoe1ywHBfy5kEbJRyAtAt3ZgE35j3bTAlS8xnnU2wy45Z3oFcaw/s1600/tn5_110617110234.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="404" data-original-width="647" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxIOnsgLu6OUbpM0KyJYCLg3fk7i8rrrbhF71J0VchSPKi62BdqkPSboVKJTt7EhBDyv01brtUpmu6jBbAq3q7neRqkqoe1ywHBfy5kEbJRyAtAt3ZgE35j3bTAlS8xnnU2wy45Z3oFcaw/s400/tn5_110617110234.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i><b>If Liberty means anything at all , it means the right to
tell people what they do not want to hear.” </b>George Orwell</i></div>
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This post is not intended to pillories you or accept your
version of the incident absolving any culpability in the ghastly suicide that
happened in the Collectorate premises.</div>
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My concern is only at the utter lack of respect and reverence for democratic and civil rights that, you
ought to have, as a senior civil servant shown to Cartoonist Bala who caricatured the incident and the powers
that are.</div>
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I wonder what you as the candidate at the Civil Service
interview would have replied or may have replied to perhaps the question put to you regarding the constitutional
provisions guaranteeing free speech and
expression. Very curious!</div>
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I’m sure that you are not oblivious of the Supreme Court’s
ruling on Section 66A in April 2017. The honourable Court observed in its
ruling on the draconian Section 66A
thus, “…. it invades right to free speech , every expression used in it is
nebulous. It is clear that Section 66 A arbitrarily excessively and
disproportionately invades the right of free speech and upsets the balance
between such right and the reasonable restrictions that may be imposed on such
right.”</div>
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You by your act ordering the arrest of the cartoonist took a
miserably weak position using the tattered apron of Section 66 A to hide like a
weasel.. This is the same narrative and reasoning ( if one may call it
reasoning) often used by political parties and religious outfits to bludgeon unpleasant
truth and satire . The right to offend is a sacrosanct right and if you feel
offended by a caricature, a novelette or a statement it only shows the shallowness
of your thought and philosophy. Plowing down the author is the easiest way and
that is the path weaklings take to.</div>
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You showed that there is no difference between an intolerant
mind of the Charlie Hebedo killers and
folks who hound free speech and expression in this country. To find a civil
servant among that unsavoury ranks is a sad thing for this country.</div>
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Tell me what difference is there between the act of
arresting Cartoonist Bala and decapitating or gunning down people over a
caricature? What difference is there between you, arresting cartoonist Bala and the Siva Sena thugs who ensured the arrest
of two girls for voicing their disagreement on Facebook over the shutting down Mumbai after Bal
Thackrey’s death? What difference is there between your act and that of the mad
Ayatollah Khomeini who ordered death for Salaman Rushdie for his magnificent
novel? What difference is there between your act and that of the feral bigots
in Bangladesh and India who hounded Taslima Nasreen for being candid about the
plight of Hindus in Bangladesh in her novel “Shame”? What difference is there
between you Mister Sandeep Nanduri and the
Hindutva ideology that banished MF Hussain? The list will go on and you
may find yourself in a very notorious and depraved company.</div>
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This October the centenary of the October Revolution was commemorated
by the working class, world over. I wonder if you are aware that , in
India the October Revolution worked as a
accelerator , a catalyst that actuated progressive literature. This triggered a
fecund environment for egalitarian and socialist thoughts in the people. This
was heartily harnessed and channelised
by the leaders of the Freedom movement too. Indeed the Brits used the draconian
legislations to pulverise such expressions in literature. But they survived and
stand even today as immortal hand-downs to posterity. </div>
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Not so long ago during the pre-independence days expressive people,
editors of news papers, social workers were all subjected to banishment by the
Brits and their cahoots, the Princes, for their candid speech, writing and
literature. It’s a pity that there are remnants of the Raj amongst us today. Now, you underlined that
ominous reality through your act of
arresting the cartoonist for doing his job. A sad day for Indian democracy and
Civil Service!</div>
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I will have to remind you
the words of Gopal Subramaniam the SC lawyer , he said, “Poetry
encouraged fearlessness of expression and this cannot be restricted because of
the use of the name of a personality. Freedom to offend is also a part of
freedom of speech”.</div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script>linkwithin_text='Your custom text:'</script></div>anilkurup59http://www.blogger.com/profile/07961961217418715354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4448802533825615490.post-6959316369143070582017-09-04T08:42:00.002+05:302017-09-04T08:48:30.583+05:30ONAM !<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKr1AxEmvwrIyEl9Ica4PIeSwgZ2TcmaCiegPOo8QLFrKD8lX2Fg8L_HqJAD3W-SKygFmgo7EsUdlIfTOQN_ONejMVc3Z0E-7rveXRmdDBZoGK4ol11pa3vwddfAGKGokzc3nt_9EK9WUy/s1600/onam-festival2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="331" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKr1AxEmvwrIyEl9Ica4PIeSwgZ2TcmaCiegPOo8QLFrKD8lX2Fg8L_HqJAD3W-SKygFmgo7EsUdlIfTOQN_ONejMVc3Z0E-7rveXRmdDBZoGK4ol11pa3vwddfAGKGokzc3nt_9EK9WUy/s320/onam-festival2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Come Onam, celebrities and somebody who is anybody is seen
on Television channels reminiscing the Onam of the past and of their childhood. Amusingly young film actors in their early
twenties proclaim, the good old Onam that once was and ruefully reminisces the
days of the mythical Emperor Mahabali. Wonder if they confuse Mahabali with
Bahubali. That will be the last straw!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Having been through 58 Onams , I guess I have a fair right
to pen a few words on it, when Onam was not a commercial melee and ‘athapookalams’
were not embellished with pesticide laced flowers from Tamilnad and Karnataka ;
when veggies were not doused in toxins; where there was a feeling of elation
and success the night before “Thiruonam”, when the local sartorial expert would
honour his commitment and deliver your new Onnam shirt & trousers, skirts &
jackets. There was no ARROW and Tomy Hilfigers then to walk in and pick one’s
ready to wear ‘Onakodi’ dresses. Moreover elders did not have the vanity to
indulge and there was no Maria Saharopovas and Tendulkars to ape.<o:p></o:p></div>
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‘Athapookalams’ had individual flair, even the ones in
street corners. They were made in different layers and in clay. 3, 5, 7 &
the jumbo ones with 9 layers. Cow-dung paste was laced over to act as glue and
petals and flowers were stuck to them. Each household chose their own size of ‘atha-thattu’.
Flowers were procured from around the neighbourhood. The cunning and watchfulness,
the networking among children’s group enabled to scout and identify houses that
had flowering bushes and foliage. Then it was the clandestine hunt early before
dawn, crawling and climbing over fences and walls, duping noisy watchdogs that
tell the master of little thieves set out to stealing flowers. Some good Samaritans
willingly let you in and allowed you to collect flowers for the ‘pookalams’.
The nip in the early dawn air, the smell of blooming flowers, the freshness of
fallen flowers nevertheless, the sheer motivation for it all cannot be explained
and have to be felt.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The ‘pookalams’ at street corners and squares where managed
by the slightly older folks and was enlivened
through the day with film songs played over loudspeakers that were not noisy and
often a persevering bloke on a bicycle would undertake nonstop cycling mission around the ‘pookalam’.
I still cannot relate the significance of that during Onam but it provided lot
of awe and fun. Then, the ubiquitous swing that remained a sine qua non to usher
in Onam!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then while we were in our late adolescence and into our
teens the venturing to cinemas to see the block-busters that were released for
Onam. Often they were dominated by either a MERRYLAND Studio production or the
UDAY Studio production- a mythical grand story of the war of Gods or the chivalry
of a ‘Vadakan pattu’ folklore.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The grand melee and finale on Thiruonam day was unforgettable.
It generally would be modest kind of embellishment of the ‘atham’ that morning
as the full and blown out decorations were reserved for the late evening when
the ‘atham’ was given a grand flowery embellishment. The exercise would begin
after the sumptuous Onam ‘sadhya’ in homes and folks would gather by evening
and rework the ‘atham’ for the finale. Women folks cook and got ready ‘elapams’.
The ‘atham’ was covered with ‘thumba’ a local shrub and the ‘elappams’ are
deftly enshrouded in the shrub. Folks got ready with primitively made bows and
quiver full of arrows. At dusk ‘onapattu’ is accompanied by folks (mostly boys)
shooting arrows into the shrouded ‘atham’ to pick out the concealed ‘elappams’.
When finally all the ‘elappams’ are retrieved the ‘atham’ is carefully removed off
the ground using a suitable kitchen utensil without damaging the layers and
left on a sill by the front gate of the house. It stays there till probably the
next Onam beaten by weather- sun and rain and slowly withering away.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As every aspect of human life changes over time, so does
Onam and the feeling it gives. But something that can be vouched for is the
simplicity and freedom from vanity and conceit Onam of yore lend.<o:p></o:p></div>
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