Sleeping with the Monsoon

I was pretty tired and must have fallen into the tranquil comfort of sleep well before midnight. I was alone in that house in Cochin. My friend Sree and family left for Coiambatore leaving me in charge of the regularly unkempt house and the big Great Dane, Motti. Various matters as usual tired me, by late evening ,and the sleep was a welcome visitor.

 I do not know when it began but I woke up at the sound of the music- drum beat and jingle of the rain. It was pouring and in torrents. I lie in bed and saw through the curtains on the window, the monsoon- by night- at its zestful best in Kerala. And I began enjoying its goodness after many years. Living in Tamilnad for the last twenty odd years had its deprivation. An incessant torrential downpour was one. The monsoon does not visit my part of Tamilnad as it does the total of Kerala.

Through the curtains, I could see the heavy rain drops by the hazy light on the street. They were slanted and nearly twisted by the wind. I lay there in bed in all the comfort and peace that only dreams could give. I travelled back years to relive certain days and nights as such during height of monsoon. There were nights when I used to lie cuddled under the sheet listening to the torrent outside and wishing that it pours and pours through day break and school could be done away with. Myriad stories from the times when I was little, the lore connected with rain and rainy days that I picked from the oldies then, went through my mind. It was browbeating rain outside. I seemed to hear every drop of the wonder out there.

I thought of the years that went by. And now into the later part of life, the sound of the rain still holds amazing sway over the mind. Like ones mother, Nature has her many ways to fan you and sooth, the music of rain was one such way. It was a lullaby from up above.

I thought of the book that I read long ago written by Alexander Frater, “Chasing the Monsoon”. It became a highly noted BBC film too. The book documented Fraters journey from Kovalam off Thiruvananthapuram with the arrival of the monsoon clouds. His visit to the men at the observatory in Thiruvannathapuram, and their crude ways of predicting the monsoon; his travel by boat from Quilon and following the downpour right through Kerala , into Goa and beyond till the north east.

I had the sudden urge to get out of the bed and walk in the rain. But the comfort and cosiness of the bed, the thin sheet spread over my torso, the cool pleasant air ,the flapping of the curtains at the persistent gentle howl of the wind, and the music outside touched me much that amongst the thoughts I fell back into sleep- I slept that night with “the monsoon”.

'Fraility'

I searched for goodness

But it never was.

Perhaps sublimed and in the shadow, I reckoned

And  I searched.in vain.

Ruth and empathy, I searched about

But it never was.

Little pearls of Godliness,that endure in all

I sought, but it never was.

The smile, the words, quenching they seemed

So, yet, I searched again

And of no avail.

Scintilla of hidden goodness

That might be in us all

I searched in depth and with hope

But it never was.

Lament I did,'pray, I be wrong’.

I wailed, falter did I, in search?

But I saw,nay it was not so;

Because, ‘Frailty’ was her name!

"Satanic Verses"

Why do we bark up the wrong tree?

Matha, Pitha, Guru, Deivm, is the wisest dictum that has been taught in our culture and that has been passed down the ages. And makes commonsense too! In my thinking it would be irrational to prefer a force that is putative, over persons in flesh and blood- one’s biological parents!

However, the cultural excellence apart, how do we see things, in what order, and in what line of importance? Every one irrespective of their religious leanings except for some satanic manifestations like me, (Satan, though religious, is yet a persona non grata in all faiths), get excited and show frenzied state of mind when the names of their Gods are invoked, be it in good taste or otherwise. Man has put God on a pedestal higher than his parents. The result, man has forgotten to be of allegiance to his God, and also he has ceased to respect and care for his parents. The sorry state is that one tolerates irreverence to ones parents, but presumes any comment that is uncommon as blaspheming his God, and indulges in violent retribution.Man has less love and regard for his parents, but has fathomless loves for his God, so he claims.

I have seen and felt quite a few examples over the past many years, where  parents are trampled and God revered.

I have felt revulsion and utter dislike for certain people who with impudence devoid of conscience throw out their aged parents. One gentleman I was acquainted with, (wonder if the adjective or noun, whatever the grammatical formulation, can be attributed to the fellow’s conduct), dismiss his aged parents from his scheme of things. He took them from his home where they were, and ungratefully threw them to fend in a small house in some remote village. This guy I understand conducts yearly pilgrimage to see his God in Sabarimala!

Yet another group of people I know have profanely used their pliable parents to further their covetous life. They thrived on the misery and financial constraints of their parents. The parents had to acquiesce mutely, because their financial capability was limited,and money was flowing in for the necessities and wants of living... Though I wish the surviving parent has saved remorse in her that may see her at peace in later life.

I have seen the total commitment, duty and devotion of a son to his mother stricken, and deteriorate with serious senile dementia.

And I have also known a son who was more concerned about the financial goodness of the business he inherited from his father than spent adequately on medical care for the old man, bedridden and sinking.

When I was little, I was immensely impressed and fascinated whenever   I saw my father supplicate at his mother’s feet and express obeisance before he set off on any journey. I can recall that, not only he, his brothers as well did the same.

But in the age that we live, interpersonal relationships evolving out of wedlock have also acted against the qualities of affection, love, devotion and gratitude one owes to ones parents. Old age homes are a new mantra and a venture for commercial exploitation. They have now become the distant out post where one can cast away ones aged and inconvenient parents.

And then one may join the beeline to  a Sabarimal,a  Vellankanni, or any other abode of the Gods.

In Third Person

To tell a story in third person has its convincing charm. If the narration is in the first person it becomes more often a soliloquy and would also raise question marks about the veracity of the explanations. It may also give way to the feeling that it was concocted. If, when the story is in third person, the narrator tells what is known to him and there will be interregnums when and where the story teller seems to have not much clue about how the plot went. Then it is up to the reader to infer. This is where the art of storytelling comes to play.

Such a fascinating writer was Somerset Maugham! He excelled in narrating in the third person. And the one that stands out in my opinion, amongst his works of excellence, is “The Razors Edge”, (later a Hollywood movie of the same name, made twice in 1946 and again in 1984 starring Bill Murray). The movie was not even a distant shadow of the novel. In fact, this was the literary creation of Maugham that initiated me into his fan club. And I must acknowledge that was one of the good that came about after I got to know and befriend Balan.

I do brood over this subject of describing a story (fiction or otherwise) in third person. It, besides creating an inquisitiveness and involvement in the reader also helps the writer from not being accused of blatancy. Because, describing the fact of the matter is always disapproved and considered blasphemous and insolent.

There are a plethora of subjects around that can be spoken about and commented. But a firsthand account may be alleged odious, covetous and, or fabricated.In many instance facts are stranger and starker than fiction.

Alone at Dawn

At dawn I sat down by the pond, and saw the wonder-

Of the nimbleness of the Sunbird glide down the mallow

Down with the dew drops and back to begin again.

The Mynas pick little may-flies that squirmed by the pond

The Munias fly by and feed the nestlings, nestled on the branch near

The warblers warble in haste to the silver oaks yonder,

The fish splash in the pond, amongst the lilies salmon and pink.

And the Toad, croak beneath the waterleaf, before it slumbers at the break of day.

I walked down the way, and saw the owls perched atop

The crow pheasant annoyed ,move into the bush as my steps near

While the Peacocks flutter in chorus, to stay away.

 I saw the sun in its amber glow; gently spread its aurora.

And the crimson clouds give way to the, brightness

 of another day.

I saw the Geckos scamper away at the alight of the day.

The birds of the sky fly by in union; the dragon- flies descend and dance a ballet.

A cuckoo sang from a distant tree.

I turned aside and saw my dog walk by my side, look longingly at me and say, ‘aye’!

Then I wondered- man, misfit in such a day?  I saw for sure the answer was, 'ye'.

What constitutes 'Beauty'?

Pageants all over the world have different profiles and target different markets. Some pageants look for swimsuit models for magazines, some look for models for the fashion industry, some look for new faces into tinsel town. Some also claim to be engaged in identifying ambassadors for welfare activities and programmes.

 I saw some portions of the Miss Universe pageant 2010 that rocked Las Vegas. And as it has always been the rule, than the exception a damsel from Mexico (a third world- or may be developing country) was crowned .And Miss India Ushoshi Sengupta not only drew flak for her fancy dress kind costume and also she lost out.

Nevertheless Mexico a developing country won the title. And that would suffice and serve well the purpose behind this expensive well marketed joke of fancy dress competitions. The many multinational manufacturers of women’s beauty products, swim suits and costumes stand to gain, because a woman from the third world, a developing country is now their mascot, and ambassador. And their sales in the impoverished third world will get a flip. New markets and vistas will be opened up.

Ostensibly as it has always been claimed, the goal of these damsels is to eradicate poverty, bring forth child welfare, empower women, world peace etc. In 2002 (I wonder if I got the year correct) the beauty pageant did do something for peace in Nigeria. When ethnic and religious violence against such events went out of control. Wonder what an impoverished country like Nigeria could do for world peace by hosting such an event. The pageant organisers had to run lock stock and barrel.

I’m not ipso facto against such pageants like Miss World and Miss Universe. But my question is what have they achieved other than triple the sale of cosmetics and expensive women’s accessories. Big marketing syndicates have gained. And the damsels who have won tactfully enter the highly rewarding theatre of activity, films and advertising.

We have such a few cases here in India too. The The Aiswaryas, the Sushmitas,the Priyankas, the Lara Duttas,the Omana Kuttans  all have got the one way ticket to Bollywood and have made it big. In what way have their crowning, fame and name ameliorated the perils of women? In what way have these ladies contributed to women’s welfare and empowerment? I remember some of these ladies declare ostensibly at the pageant when asked about their ambition, and aim in life. “Poverty eradication, children’s welfare, women’s empowerment”! What laudable and magnanimous goals!

Mother Teresa was not a beauty queen by these yardsticks and bench marks.And was never turned to by these pageants .But yet she have done during her life time much for peace , for the dis-Publish Postempowered,the dispossessed and the meek than all the beauties  can ever dream of or claim .

And the bottom line is what constitutes ‘beauty’?

Reminiscence of College days 2

April14,2007

I mentioned in a previous post on memoirs of College about the tour to Bangalore. And how we broke the ranks and control of the Asst Professor and ventured out in the night.

I managed to retrieve after much search few photographs of some of us who made it to Bangalore in 1978.Appearances of some are funny, and some look pretty. Some look emaciated including me.Looking back, quite a contrast nature had decreed for every person! This is manifested when one look back at the photos during the farewell party twenty seven years ago and during the trip to Bangalore.

April14,2007

 On the sides of the reunion function and the luncheon some of us recalled the vapid fun some had and the little, subtle infatuations during the days in college. We however concluded that a smile, an incessant ageless smile should not be taken as the acceptance of amour, of intimacy. And we were also unanimous in the opinion that the realization was quite late in coming ha ha ha ha !!

All said and done the reunion was a master act, and I m certain that the kids who came along and the spouses too would never have thought of such grand and earnest response.It is fascinating to look at the faces and try to recollect what they looked twenty seven years ago, branded as a bunch of impertinent rascals.

Musings at noon

Early this week, on the 23 August I and C lived our twenty second anniversary of our wedding, and we were in Thiruvananthapuram with my mother. In fact, the melee that life is now, we nearly forgot about that day.

Twenty two and one half years ago I was given an assuring blow by Cupid. And some eight months down we got married .At home it was a very inconvenient and unconventional decision that all had to live with because I was marrying a Christian. To me, and fortunately for C the trappings of Hinduism and Catholicism were not even a remote matter of interest and concern. The 'isms' were trivial in the mundane affairs of live.

We were in touch throughout those five months before the wedding either by telephone or by letters through mail (post). There were moments when people glared at me irritated and furious as I occupied telephone booths at public outlets for minute’s together (wish there were mobile phones then and in those times).

We exchanged by post one hundred letters each, and hand written too. And they all are still kept safe .I have not read them since. Feel that it will be like revisiting a sort of infatuation of those days! 

I wonder if the new age of computer and email, of mobiles and text messages  would provide the personal touch, the passion of the heart  and the feelings in  each alphabet, word and sentence that we store in those two hundred letters that were exchanged. There was nothing in those two hundred odd letters that denoted or even distantly alluded to the whims and influences of Aphrodite or Eros. I guess they were somewhat refined and reasonably matured exchanges. Towards the wedding month, we mutually agreed not to be in any contact what so ever from the August 1, until the day of the wedding.So the letter writings and phone calls ceased from then.

Relationships are sadly and increasingly being frivolous in the age of sms and emails. And exchange of letters and text messages would sound and   feel like writing, sending, receiving and reading business correspondence. When one received a hand written letter, one could see in each letter and word the image of the person who wrote it. There was nothing impersonal and everything was vivid. Even the Post man who ventured with the much wanted and awaited mail was seen as the harbinger of good tidings and a welcome figure at the gate.

But as life moves on and we become antediluvian and anachronistic, may be one day we will  retract into our confines and read those letters from the times  Cupid  stalked us. Which I' m certain will not be damaged by spy ware, malware and viruses.And perhaps we may in those letters see our star struck and dumb founded faces again.

Reminiscence of College days1

I presume that twenty eight years down is a fair time to reminisce the teens and the early twenties of once age.

I was in a college which had liberal sprinkling of the fairer sex. The co-ed institution was one of the best in Thiruvanathapuram and quite capable of standing up to the Women's colleges of that city in the matter of pretty beautiful girls.

Our class acquired a rebellious nimbus, and in the words of our professor “infamous and impertinent bunch”. The description covered both the sex in the batch.

I would in fact hesitate to term us rebellious- well if it is purely for antagonising the professor for conducting in an unconventional way, quite different from his and some of the staff members views, well then the adjective is apposite. It has to be acknowledged that the staff members were headed by a very conservative professor who would in all probability have proscribed co-education, if he had his ways. And also some of the staff members were quite respectful of him and would not will to antagonise or do something contrary to his opinion.

It all began in the first year during the fun trip to Bangalore. Those days the KK Express (Kerala- Karnataka Express) got one to Bangalore from Thiruvanathapuram. Some ten of us boys and girls took off after dinner without the consent of the leader of the pack the Assistant professor. We took a couple of auto rickshaws, bunched ourselves in and reached Brigades road and got into the cinema to watch “Return of the Dragon”. It was very late after midnight that we came back to the Hotel .And was given a severe dressing down by the Asst professor. He also reported the matter back to the college.

During the recess between classes we used to engage in the game of Lexicon cards. It was a fascinating game of alphabets and words played with “Lexicon Cards”. One needs a fair percent of erudition and vocabulary to consider the game as his or her forte. And for an onlooker,at a glance, it would seemingly be like the game of Bridge. The Staff members thought so, and we were pulled up to the Principal. Outrageous, boys and girls, they even have the temerity to play cards in the class room. This was the accusation of the Professor. The matter was given a cold shoulder by the Principal when he found what we were engaged in, but the Professor was appalled that boys and girls conduct in such blatant activity inside the college.

Once, a prankster in our midst, (whose identity is still debated amongst us) sent by post to the professor a fascinating book of pictures, those that were explicit, and akin to the ones from Khujaraho. This infuriated the professor. And instead of ignoring the audacity of the fellow who ever he was, he brought the matter in public and the whole college was laughing at his predicament. Fancy stories went around.

We found yet another way to revel in past time. There is a very Keralite game which is played in the country side. I would say it is a Kerala version of base ball. The only difference was that the bat was a stick that was feet long and the ball was replaced by another stick of six inches. And we played that amongst us with a mix team of boys and girls. The court was down the department building and in full view of the professor and the staff members’ room. Notoriety and infamy that was redefined! The fascinating game of "kuttium kollum" was thereby decreed as frivolous and a  game of impertinent bunch of rascals .

                                            The class of 1980 farewell day

The end result was during the farewell party in the far end of the terminal year the Professor and the staff members chose the moment to vent their wrath on us. The farewell party was boycotted by all of them except one gentleman, our Economics tutor. The class photo gave a fascinating look .Just the Principal and the teacher stood along with us. A similar incident had never happened before or after.

The bottom line was the graduation result,and it  was a sweet retort of sorts. Two University rankers, the first and the second were from amongst us. And a record number of First class graduates. I was lucky one of them! 

But the Professor did not relent he refused to endorse our conduct certificates.

Fear

To close ones eyes and wish it is dark

To wish it is dark cos of the fright to face light.

Run away in fear from dedications ethical

cos love for self is the volition of  heart and soul.

To live in fear of  reality that stares

And close ones eyes to values that must be held dear.
Fear the present and bury the future
And endure in fear of the ghost of ones past.

Oh eternal misery are such lives unto the grave.

I had a dream

I had a dream, and I was on the precipice

The rocks were keen and steep, I clutched them with my life.

Looked below and dread the abyss deep.

The piece of bread seized 'tween my tattered fingers,

because I was 'fraid to let go the crump

Lest all go hungry and vain..

As I moved down edging,

Afraid of the slide and the fall any moment to come

The ground beneath my feet

ne'er reached me soon.

I had a dream, and I saw the dead

Rotten and dried cadaver of men and women

Hung on the string like meat put to dry

Mummies, beyond reckon, and couldn’t know who they where,

and why?

I had a dream, and I saw the deluge.

Of gushing water that took me down

I gasped in the swirl, knowing not what-

the whirl held for me, down under.

I had a dream, and I saw the dawn

raise me in her arms, coddle me long

I woke up in time,

and saw it was morn.

Hope

Words stay aloof

They stay aloof and away,

Afraid to descend;

Like I fear the day to come.

And moments move relentless

into the uncertain, that is the dawn of morrow.

And I ebb with its flow

Clutching at every twig gasping with hope and only hope.

Hail Mahabali

Americans celebrate Columbus Day each year. In fact that day is a national holiday in the USA.

The officialdom and the citizens of the most wonderful and greatest country in the world exults on that day in memory of a alien from Spain who began the systematic annihilation of the native Indians  who owned and lived in the ‘new world’.

It happens in the Worlds greatest country who has acquired plenipotentiary powers from the creator himself.. And that necessitates that we respect that!

This morning I read a Blog relating to the Chinese manacling of Tibet. Again it was proved that there is no certainty that the native inhabitants of the land will have any right over the land, the culture, heritage and life that they preserved and brought down the ages. The Tibetans are foreigners in the land of their birth and the land of their ancestors..

Again all including us acquiesced the usurpation because of  the might of the Chinese!

The Palestinians are aliens and dispossessed in their on land. The financial powers of the Zionists have ensured that a fable could be treated as a historical fact and used to enforce their unnatural and dishonest right over the land of the native inhabitants.

Again might have silenced the dissenters!

Back here in India the tribals and other native inhabitants are being dispossessed and set on the run by the economic and commercial might. People are dispossessed and set as gypsies and aliens in their very on land and outside.

But the difference in the treatment of the mythical king “Mahabali” was that he was fortunate to enjoy the benediction of the Gods. Even though they dispossessed him off his land, he was retired to the comforts of the Nether land.

He enjoys a better treatment than the native Indians, the Tibetans, the Palestinians, and the natives of the many tribal and other hamlets of India

On this Onam season we can only wish that we and posterity will not have to leave the land of our birth and of our ancestors. To be homeless and alien in ones own land is perhaps the cruelest of all infliction of fate.

And let us hope that the agony of dispossession will not visit generations to come.

Besides the revelry in the reminiscence of  a bygone golden  era Onam must remind us of the agony  of being outcast in our land and  or having to live as a serf or an  alien in a foreign land.

So Wishes for a Happy Onam in Mahabali’s   name to all fellow Bloggers.

Ain't I by your side?

I woke in angst, the clock struck half

Saw her leave the room with wearisome strides.              

I heeded the click of the door as it shut behind.

Heard her open the door outside

And her footsteps wade down the verandah.

She moved down to the bench and sat by the pond.

The dog scampered to her and lay by  her feet.

The moon up above closed her eyes behind the cloud

Lest she sees the anguish of the poor soul below!

The dog looked in askance Tell me why this angst?

For aint I by your side?

Cigars & Arson

THIS IS THE BEST LAWYER STORY OF THE YEAR, DECADE AND PROBABLY THE CENTURY.

A Charlotte, NC lawyer purchased a box of very rare and expensive cigars, then insured them against fire, among other things.
Within a month, having smoked his entire stockpile of these great cigars and without yet having made even his first premium payment on the policy, the lawyer filed claim against the insurance company.In his claim, the lawyer stated the cigars were lost "in a series of small fires." 

The insurance company refused to pay, citing the obvious reason that the man had consumed the cigars in the normal fashion.The lawyer sued... And WON!

(Stay with me.)

After the lawyer cashed the cheque, the insurance company had him arrested on 24 counts of ARSON!!!With his own insurance claim and testimony from the previous case being used against him, the lawyer was convicted of intentionally burning his insured property and was sentenced to 24 months in jail and a $24,000 fine.

This is a true story and was the First Place winner in the recent Criminal Lawyers Award Contest.


Courtsey Suraj Janardhanan, Sydney

An attempt with trepidation

"It is some time since I began to pen ( in fact type on the Lap top key board), my thoughts, feelings, emotions, rejections, revulsions, hope, apprehensions, experiences, reactions, likes, dislikes, so on and so forth. And soon enough became a blogger too.

The activity gives me immense and much comfort and an open door to exhale myself. Sometimes blogging something others may not have the patience and understanding to accept, but still gives me a way to express and talk to my alter ego, that is comforting.

This morning I sat and brought them out in words, some feelings that went through me. And with a bit of trepidation I found it was something in verses. So here they are- my first attempt in years at putting something that came to mind into verses".

Lay me to your bosom

I wait with excite, for her to wade in

Take me in her arms, lay me to her bosom.

And let the beauty of her dark countenance sooth my heart.

I close my eyes at her fondle

fall back again into peace within;

till she departs with her dark flowing hair,

gently caressing my face!

As the flecks of dawn wakes me from

the wonderland that she held me through, and the paradise;

Walking by her side, in bliss and delight

in peace and calm

I lay with yearning for her to be back

to caress me back into the wonderland

of darkness and clam.

SHE

Love is a lesser word; gratitude , too mean a word

I grope in the dark and day, and cannot find a way

to thank her for her ways.

In moments of torment and in days of tempest,

She holds by my side, fiercer than the rock in tempest.

Moments when I detest, my helpless state at its worst.

But still to tell her with an embrace be by my side

lest I slip aside into the nether world and be torn asunder.

"I wish I was wrong"

I m certain that if not all, many of us might at some point or other times, long and pleadingly wish that what we feel and fear about another person  and his or her character is not true and are misplaced.

How would it be if we are proved wrong and it is revealed that our judgment about the person was wrong, mercifully? Would not such a state be like the air jetting out from an inflated balloon? And in some other case the reality when it dawns, or say revealed will be very hurting within us.

On the contrary how would it be if our opinion or judgment of the person is proved to be true and correct? It can sometimes be a vindication that would give us comfort. And can also be the revelations of the feared judgment come true.

Which one of these situations would we like to be?

If it is the former well then we might have to spend some time introspecting ourselves and ruing our hasty and ill conceived or unwise judgment. Nevertheless if this is the case we still have time and opportunity to make amends with the victim of our intemperate judgment, and move on in life. There cannot be anything piquant and bad about a situation where we may have to retract and confess an apology. The word ‘sorry’ has the power to soothe feelings, hurt ego and pride. And I presume, being in the wrong by ourselves in judging some one and not letting our conceited mind accept its mistake is more wrong on our part.

The later situation of us being vindicated is a comforting state. Because we may have before hand done the needful to confront such an eventuality..

But how I wish at times, that it turns out that I judged wrong!

64 Years After the Birth Pangs

I came back with C a little while ago from Ootty, to where we went on Friday last. We were in fact guests there of a couple close to us. And all of us together spent the week end at the Club Mahindra resort in Ootty.

Ideally was not a right time to wage with a free mind in leisurely activities. But we went because we decided that we needed a break from the quagmire, and to heedfully engage with some friends.

The Resort management announced yesterday evening that they planned to commemorate the I- day at 8 this morning. Though I as usual was up at 6, cared more to stay indoors and watch the prime minister at the Red Fort. I dislike rituals for ritual sake. C went out to join the motley group of weekenders at the hoisting of the national flag on the forecourt of the hotel.

I watched on TV the prime minister speak, and the various elite assembled .Faces that one would wish was not seen in public life in our country, and dignitaries who were only present in body so as to take care of the niceties of diplomatic necessities were being picked up on and on by the camera.At the end of his speech and the customary 'jai hind',the national anthem was played. And honestly I could not help my eyes moisten as it always does when the anthem is played.

I dislike and feel mocked at when I start receiving SMSs with conspicuous Independence Day wishes and congratulations. That ritual began soon enough. I love my country; Bharath mahan; Swatantriya dhina ashamsakal; Bhartah matha ki jai; the wishes were quite a few. I do not wish to deprecate the peoples intend and the mind that triggered those messages. But in general, (that counts me as well), Indians are quite adept at rituals and observing certain commemorations in letter but not in spirit. Come August 15 th we go flag-waving with patriotic fervour and by late evening on the day we forget and move on as things did not matter.

Come August 15 th we see and hear words and eloquence in praise of the motherland, and showering   encomiums on her and vaunt where we stand amongst the comity of nations. We recall the historical facts that are truly audacious and unique to India as a land of achievements in science, sociology, jurisprudence, medicine, mathematics and philosophy. The distinctly enviable status India held because of the true spirit, sacrifice, insatiable urge for knowledge and far sighted vision our fore fathers displayed centuries ago , and the glorious and magnificent intellectual and spiritual tradition of the great land are flaunted and reminded  by all and sundry. We beat our chest and yell “vande mataram” .Our hyperbole for all that was and that are because of all that our forefathers and ancestors were!

But should we not reflect, go inward and introspect what we have done, what we have given to the land we remember once a year and yet utter the salutation “vande mataram”? Do we deserve the privilege and honour to be the inheritors of heirlooms as rich and envious in tradition and culture? Do we rightfully deserve by merit of our deeds to have been born in India and thereby be known as Indians? Are we not lauding and enjoying the respect we have because what our fore fathers where?

In every country and society that have suffered the despicability of negation and war when we reach out as an Indian we are welcomed as being from the land of Mahatma, and the land that offered to the world treatise of spiritual and philosophical excellence. If an Indian go to the land of strife, Israel, he will be identified as from a country that gave safe haven for the perennially persecuted Jews of the early millennium,( the only land in the world that the Jews where free and secure was in Kerala).The learned in any Muslim country in the Middle East will recall that it was in India that the first Muslim Mosque was built not after strife, but from the munificence of the culture of the land that welcomed and imbibed foreign traditions and people,( the Cheraman Mosque in Kodungalloor , Kerala).These are just a few examples.

The introspection will have to go deeper. We who call this land our mother have raped and pillaged her out of avarice. We have dispossessed her children. If that is untrue how could we explain the threatening sphere of the Maoist actions that have now even by official acknowledgement encompassed one third of the country? The dispossessed are standing up and in a violent virulent way. A recent NGO/UN and very impartial study has identified states like Bihar and Orissa as poorer than the worst in Sub Saharan Africa. This is sixty four years after shedding what we call yoke of imperialism. India shining indeed! With the well camouflaged slight we have mauled nature and the people in many parts of this land. The Narmada Sarovar is just one of the glaring examples. We have created everlasting and festering communal divide by concocting a false alibi for/of the birth place of a mythical Hindu King and destroyed a place of worship of the Muslims. This we did while we let go hundreds of ancient Siva temples in the valley of Narmada go under water with the environmental and social consequence of the Narmada dam.

India, as per UN studies have a third of the worlds poorest. India ranks 134 in the list of 182 countries in Human development index. India’s child mortality rate is worse than Bangladesh and Sri Lanka. India accounts for one fifth of all new born deaths. Potable water is still a distant dream both in the rural areas and even in many cities. Remember, this is after almost two decades of admirable economic growth. Not surprisingly these figures are not same within all India. Regional, social disparities are high among tribal, economically neglected and communally minor segments. Even by official estimate more than twenty million female foeticide and infanticide have happened in India over the past two decades. What kinds of freedom will these neglected and marginalised sections which account for forty percent of the population see to celebrate and revel? Our position has gone down to 85 from 72 in the corruption and integrity list index.

I have touched only the few of the basics that will tell the greatness of a nation. True we have sent space craft’s to the moon, have stock pile of nuclear arsenal, express motorways and sky scrapers have dotted our cities and sky line. We have Industrial and business houses that have consistently been entrenched in ethics and principles, and business men who have used and manipulated the system to reach the top of the world.

But as Rabindarnath Tagore wrote in Gitanjali

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up
into fragments by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason
has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by.... Into ever-widening thought and action---
Into that heaven of freedom ... let my country......

Can we on this 64 th Independence Day truthfully say that we have realised or we are striving towards the realisation of the dreams contained in the above verse? Can we truthfully say that we   rightfully can claim to the rich past of this land?

If we truthfully can say “ye”, yes then we shall celebrate the Independence from imperialism.

The Words

During the trip to South Africa I was immensely fortunate to visit the house ( now museum) of Nelson Mandela in the SOWETO.

And I bought a book,”In the words of Nelson Mandel”.

Some of the gems from that book are given here under.

"I have walked that long road to freedom. I have tried not to falter; I have made missteps along the way. But I have discovered the secret that after climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb. I have taken a moment here to rest, to steal a view of the glorious vista that surrounds me, to look back on the distance I have come. But I can rest only for a moment, for with freedom comes responsibilities, and I dare not linger, for my long walk is not yet ended."

On Gandhi

"India  you sent us a barrister and we gave you back a 'Mahatma' ".

On Abortion

 “Women have the right to decide what they want to do with their bodies”.

On Africa

 "We cannot abuse the concept of national sovereignty to deny the rest of the Continent the right and duty to intervene when, behind those sovereign boundaries , people are being slaughtered to protect tyranny”.

 On being an African

“All of us descendants of Africa , know only too well that racism demeans the victims and dehumanizes the perpetrators”.

On Age

“What nature has decreed should not generate undue insecurity”.

On Apartheid

“With the exception of the atrocities against the Jews during the World War II there is no evil that has been condemned by the entire world, as apartheid”

On Children

“There can be no keener revelation of a society’s soul than the way in which it treats its children”.

On the Death sentence

“The death sentence is a reflection of the animal instinct still in human beings”.

On Determination

“As long as you have iron will you  can turn misfortune into advantage”.

 On Enemies

“I wanted South Africa to see that I loved even my enemies while I hated the system that turned us against one another”.

On His Family

“I did not in the beginning choose to place my people above my family, but in attempting to do so, I found I was prevented from fulfilling my obligations as a son, a brother, a father and a husband”.

On Freedom

“Only free men can negotiate”.

On Health

“The wounds that cannot be seen are more painful than those that can be treated by a doctor”.

On Himself

“I was made by the law, a criminal, not because of what I had done, but  because of what I stood for, because of what I thought, because of my conscience”.

On Home

“I long to see the little stones on which I played as a child, the little rivers, where I swam- but I m now stationed in ….”

On Marriage

“The whole purpose of a husband and wife is that when hard times knock at the door you should be able to embrace each other”.

At His Parents Grave

“These graves mean a great deal to me, because my beloved parents are here and it arouses a great deal of emotion in me because a part of me lies buried here”.

On People

“It is the growth of character that we should learn from both pleasant and unpleasant experiences”

On General Colin Powell

“I won’t wash this hand you have shaken”.

On his retirement

“I must step down while there are one or two people who will admire me”.

On self respect

“If you are in harmony with yourself , you may meet a ion without fear, because he respects anyone with self- confidence”