Tuesday, November 23, 2010

The Archers Thumb





Train travels during day are invariably a gross waste of time in the most unproductive way. So when I had to do one such travel the past Sunday, I could only curse my stars for inflicting on me the need and necessity to make that travel. I grabbed a book along, and it was, "The Best of Speaking Tree”, a compilation of essays by the Times of India. It came to me as a token gift for some subscriptions I made. Some of the essays were matter of fact and able to provoke thought.Certainly a lesser quality as held by many. After all many people hate (not dislike) inconvenient questions and any form of distant threat to the utopian cocoons they are living in.But being a non conformist in many ways, I loved the reading and also, reproduce below a few paragraphs from the book. If ire comes about as comments I welcome happily as I would, a comment of agreement.



We routinely hear of atrocities on Dalits, tribals and others in the marginalised sections of society. However, today they no longer suffer oppression passively, as in the past, when they meekly allowed the caste system to dominate India’s social life. One such person who acquiesced in the humiliation of the subaltern has become a permanent symbol of injustice:' Ekalavya'. The original hunter-gatherer of upper India. Hearing of Dhronacharya, the archery teacher of the Kauravas, Ekalavaya went to him, naively not taking into account the racial arrogance of the Aryans.

Dhrona refused to instruct Ekalavaya. Undaunted Ekalavaya makes a wood statuette of Dhrona and under the eye of the symbolic guru taught himself the skills of archery. Once on a hunting trip the Pandavas found that their dog’s mouth had been sealed by arrows, a feat impossible even for the gifted Arjuna.Searching for the wondrous archer the Pandavas came upon Ekalvaya.Vyasan says that because of his dark complexion and unkempt looks, the dog barked at him and so he shut its mouth with arrows. When asked who his guru was, Ekalavaya pointed to Dhronas statuette.

Peeved Arjuna went to Dhrona, complaining that none should be able to surpass him in archery. Dhrona in turn rushed off to the jungle to meet Ekalavaya, who fell at his feet in reverence. Dhrona asked for his guru- dahakshina, and demanded Ekalavaya’s thumb. By offering his thumb, Ekalavaya was marginalised forever.

During our younger days and in early schooling times this story was repeatedly told to each of us, as a symbol of idealism in  guru- shishya relationship.

With its customary impartiality, the Mahabarataha, on the other hand, tells it as a sordid story of one –upmamship (Arjuna), lack of moral scruples (Dhrona) and an excessive respect for systems and authority (Ekalavya).
This drama has been enacted in every society, whether with Native Indians of America, and Africans in the USA or the blacks in South Africa and Rhodesia, or in the caste system in India.

The moral of the story is simple:
“The privileged fear the possibility of an Ekalavaya arising among the exploited. And so the thumbs of innumerable Ekalavayas fall to the ground- must fall to the ground, cut off before they can guide another arrow unerringly to its mark”.
( quote by the author)

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Musings from the Street Side



She lives on the street
By the side festooned with garbage
Squatting amongst the muck thrown by folks
Rags around her torso -skin and bones
Dishevelled hair knotted with dirt and lock
Gaze, that goes through, from the deep set eyes.

Picking pebbles with her bonny fingers
Throwing listless, as if staving something afar!
Sun or rain, day or night,
she is there amongst the heap of waste.

Picking at times at the
remnants  of food ,squander -thrown at random
from the messy mess by the road.
She throws the crumps at the dogs that lurk
rummaging the muck amongst that she dwells!
I see her each day, a ghostly shadow,
 a distant semblance of  human form.

Ruth and anguish snaring me,
 I bought a pack of shiny white rice
with curry thrown  atop, I gathered to reach her.
She turned around in her squat
And seemed to tell me with her eyes
Why bring me that? Why prolong me here?
The soul has left me long ago, and the breath soon will,.
So why, brother why, bring me any morsel? 

Saturday, November 20, 2010

Love



Love begets love – so they state.
But begging for love?
Can only add on to beggary!
Be it a man or woman, paramour or friend.