God - a victim of the the stampede

                     The Temple of Sabarimala as it looked in 1942

Allau-din- Killji, reign from 1296-1316 was in a way instrumental in the historicity of Sabarimala. His lover, the eunuch military General, Malik Kaffur was sent to South India for the furtherance of military conquest and plunder of temples that was widely the practised history of Prussian forage into India.

Fearing the imminent invasion, the Pandya kings of Madurai first thrashed away the temple wealth and booty to various Bhramanic households , and then when the fall of the kingdom was certain they fled to Venad. Meanwhile Malik Kaffur reached as south as Rameswaram and built a mosque there.

The ruler of Venad in his magnanimity and adhiti devo bhava tradition gave that branch of the Pandya dynasty that came for safe haven, around 1000 sq miles of land in Pandalam. Thence the Pandalam dynasty was born. The lore and myth of the Sabarimla temple cocooned in the Western Ghats amidst thick dense, pristine, perennial green forest began there. Myth was crafted artistically into history like with all mythical stories of various faiths.

I scoured through the Net to find the actual time the pilgrim journey into the Sabarimala began,but information was absent. The fascinating characteristic of the pilgrimage or journey to Sabarimala is the absence of touch- me – notism amongst the pilgrims.The strict continence and penance subscribed for and before the pilgrimage to the hills, is now frivolous and trivial. Though the God who supposedly abodes in Sabarimala had a Muslim, and a  Christian as companions, the inter faith and inter caste bonhomie is shed in the hills and is seldom carried down in their hearts by the millions of pilgrims who venture to the hills. But marketing of the temple presumably brought the Aryans from north down to the hills in the Western Ghats to worship the Dravidian God.

The recent tragedy where more than one hundred lives perished in chaos and stampede is only a reminder of the wayward ways we follow to desecrate nature in and around Sabarimala. Certainly the God is angry and is in wrathful mood. The very look at the photo given here would tell how we raped the temple, god and the mountains. The officialdom is steadfastly perpetuating the utter nonsense and canard of “ makara Jyoti”. And people vie for being gullible. When god is not in the heart, mind  and soul, even a thousand jyotis can never lit up the heart, mind and soul of man.

In the goodness of things, rather than market and sell the myth of Ayappan, and marketing the journey to the  hills as the panacea for the sufferings of karma and life, the government can think of devising a quota system by which only a limited number of pilgrims are allowed into Sabarimala. Certainly the hills cannot take this large numbers. The tragedy of the stampede tells that.There can be an on line booking system. The reduction in the thronging of people to the hills will help nature, nurture her mauled and raped body back. The Gods, in the hills can have some peace! The river Pampa will be able to replenish and sustain her devoid of Coliform bacteria. And such tragedy as the one recent may not re visit. Perhaps Lord Ayyappan would also consider going back to Sabarimala from his present state of incommunicado.

A child posed this question after seeing the TV reportage of the tragedy in Sabarimala, “why did not the lord ensure that his devotees did not come to harm”?

Hug Amorous?

I waited with a wildly beating heart,

 for the parting clinch that once snowed me under.

I thought, I sensed she wanted to hug,

Or did I long for it again, once?
She was stealthily waiting by,so I thought.

As she went into the bath and laid the towels for me.

Then stood out looking elsewhere feigning some chores,
or so I thought.

Heart skipping beats, and beating fast,

 I went in to the bath

And restfully, she slid in and stood close.

Told me the towels were laid, not that I could not see!

And familiarise me the tap for the warm and cold!

Did I hear her lungs breath fast or was it my breath?

She perhaps sensed my heart skip beats, and moved away, out.

And I thought I called out after her-

‘You left me in the lurch and cold’.

The other side of the Moon

The mysterious other side has always evoked curiosity. Well is there a “other side”? The mysterious other side – what after death has evoked wonder, fear and anxiety to the majority, while the minuscule have brushed it as trivial and nonchalantly. Opinions are always based on religion, faith, conditioning and tradition. It has been the nature of man to attribute divinity and providential potency to things that are incomprehensible with the present knowledge that we possess of the mystery that life and universe are.

What will happen after death? What will become of you when you are dead?

Will you remain in the subterranean vault and decay ,or will your burnt out ashes get blown by the wind and be carried into lands that you wanted to go, or you never known of? And or still be immortal in the afterlife like the Pharaohs thought they would be? Here are some thought provoking, jest full, anxious, and on the whole funny answers. The kiss of Angelique – the angel of death!

1-      Your spirit returns to God, who gave it.

2-      The Judgment!

3-      I guess when you are gone, you are gone, and probably that makes sense.

4-      I try to think it in many ways, but can’t get around it.

5-      It is not what would happen after you die , it is what people want to think will happen after you are dead.

6-      Dude there is no opinion as to what would happen when we die; it is the hard biological fact. We rot and maggots eat us inside out. Isn’t it clear enough?

7-      Your neurons stop firing and your body starts to decay.Evryone mourns for a while and then move on, and then they also die and there will be again mourning for a while and their children and friends move on in life.

8-      The cycle continues until you are free of your karma.

9-      Life is too short to keep thinking about what after death.

10-  Let us keep the best of life ticking, the positive, and fuck death and life after.

11-  No one knows what will happen . We can only guess, hope and have faith. And there has been no come back except Jesus, so they say, and the only ones who saw him were connected to him.

12-  I told you guys, I can’t explain decomposition after having eaten recently.

13-  Decay and become part of the food chain.

14-  I’m not religious so I don’t care if people have different beliefs. And I will not get offended. But I do believe in God. Just an idea that popped up. We reincarnate and continue to do God’s will, and then go to heaven. Just a thought.

15- Send my stomach to Milwaukee if they run out of beer there.

Put my socks in a cedar box; just get them out of here.

Throw my brain into a hurricane.

Since it is sin to tell lies, send my mouth down south,

And kiss my arse good bye,

But please, please don’t bury me in the cold, cold ground..

The Tyger

Tiger Tiger. burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye.
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat.
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp.
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears
And watered heaven with their tears:
Did he smile His work to see?
Did he who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger Tiger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

William Blake

William Blake the English poet and painter penned this highly analysed poem in the late 1700’s. He misspelled the word and noted as TYGER, it is told, perhaps to emphasise the different and exotic nature of the animal.

I remember this poem from standard IV, when we had a shortened few lines in our English Reader. It was sometime later in high school the complete poem was given in the curriculum. The poem haunts me even now for the vibrancy and strength of words, perhaps a parallel I noticed in the poem Balachandran posted.

I take the liberty of posting Blake’s poem ‘Tiger’ per se, as I cannot coin verses like he or Balachandarn, verses that carry the power and the feel . Anything otherwise would be an injustice to this wonderful creature and the fate that is fast overtaking it.

And it was during the same time when in high school, during my regular visits to the British Council Library in Thiruvananthapuram, I happened to read a book on a hunting expedition of King George V. There was photograph in black and white with the King and his Maharajah splendiferous in front of the carcass of some fifty odd tigers they hunted in one single day.

That slaughter was for perverted fun and the present slaughter is in aid of perverted carnal orgy.

And the magnificent creature is at the nadir end in both cases. 

" What hands made thee" ,the same god that made the lamb made the tiger. And  he the very same blacksmith made man... what a cosmic catastrophe!!!!

 "the stars throw down their spears ,

And water the heaven with their tears”

'De mortuis nil nisi bonum'.

De mortuis nil nisi bonum. ... , will this hold good with the many that passed away?

A few sample personalities who while they walked this world were either considered or were  evil, bad, corrupt, false, nepotic, greedy,malevolent, and rode rough shod over many lives, sending them to misery and into a life of agony . They destroyed systems and conventions, all aimed at self aggrandisement and deeply  set in avarice. Some where driven by misplaced logic of their concept of social justice. The result was havoc and devastation!

An immediate sample few who came to mind from not so recent to recent history.

Powered and driven by perverted vision of Aryan supremacy, the legacy of which the world still see in many parts and the middle- east. He accounted for more deaths only surpassed by the crusades.

Megalomania and utter disregard for life, all driven by a fanatic belief in the indispensability and omniscience of Communism, marked his reign. Researchers found he may have eliminated an estimated 60 million people during his reign of terror. The architect of the infamous “gulag” which killed an estimated 1.8 million plus.

The perverted military dictator of the impoverished Uganda, His rule was characterised by abuses, political repression, cold blooded murders, brutality and gross economic mismanagement. The number of people killed as a result of his regime is estimated by international observers and human rights groups to be more than 500,000.

The ‘lord of the killing fields’, leader of the Cambodian communist movement. He was the prime minister of Cambodia from 1978-79. He in his time as the dictator of Kampuchea attempted to ‘cleanse ’the country , and resulted in the deaths of an estimated 1.7 million to 2.5 million people .During his time in power, he imposed a version of agrarian socialism , a form of communist idiosyncrasy, forcing urban dwellers to relocate to the countryside to work in collective farms and forced labour projects, toward a goal of "restarting civilization" in a "Year Zero". The combined effects of forced labour, malnutrition, poor medical care and executions resulted in the deaths of approximately 21% of the Cambodian population.

The most dreaded terrorist,who came into lime light as a freedom fighter for a separate Tamil state in Ceylon.He was wanted by the Interpol for crimes ranging from ethnic cleansing, terror , murder, smuggling ,trading in narcotics, political assassinations  and terrorism conspiracy.A brutal killer who condoned no dissent. He brought mayhem on his own folks. 

The feminine face of the Hindu goddess “Durga”, considered by many as the harbinger and giver of prosperity for the teeming impoverished millions in India!. She was adept in decimating, systems, institutions and values that are corner stones and pinions of democracy. Driven by her lust and longing to stay in power ,she usurped the constitution and all democratic norms, perpetuated her family rule for almost two years- ruled by decree she, her son and his cronies. She tolerated no dissent, but still claimed to be a democrat. During her autocratic regime of the Emergency days thousands were imprisoned and some never saw daylight after. Basic human rights and civil liberties those are the vital cogs of democracy were trampled and destroyed. Manipulated politics to abysmal depths that states like Punjab and Assam almost broke away from the Union. And even to this day Jammu& Kashmir is a festering sore.

But she is still an icon, a goddess for the many millions in India.

And in very recent history, the man who probably would have, if he were given a chance carried the chair he most coveted to the nether world. A man whose lust for trappings of power, and blind affection for his kith and kin knew no bounds and reared its ugly face in public. Was a ruthless practitioner of Machiavelli’s theories of state craft. Perpetuated corruption, and sleaze.Became infamous for lying under oath of his knowledge and acquiescence of extra judicial murders during the emergency. Hunger for power stayed with him till his last. However encomiums and eulogy that were showered after his demise will put to shame the very same man who loved flattery and narcissism.

The Great Hijackings.

The first recorded aircraft hijack took place on February 21, 1931, in Peru. People do not speak about hijacking at sea as it is perhaps less glamorous.

Usurpation has had happened in various forms in societies ,as early as from the dawn of social living. And the most cunning are the hijacking of great masters who threw light into our mangled messy living.

It is Xmas time and my mobile phone and Gmail have been often notified with good wishes for a merry Xmas and the wishes of good tidings for the ensuing New Year.

Good to know people care!

The fascination with Blogging sends me every morning, first routine, after bed to the computer and the Blog. There were a few blogs from blogging associates reminding of Xmas and conveying their wishes. But unfortunately and disturbingly there was a post which sort of hijacked Xmas and Jesus Christ. And as a consolation, threw a Buddha at us, Indians .In any case Siddhartha was from Nepal and less Indian, in terms of political and social definitions.

Hijacking has always happened in matters of great thinkers and masters, whether they be, mythical or historical characters. Christ, Rama, Buddha, Mahaveera, Shankara, Socrates, and even recently the venerable Narayana Guru have been hijacked and sequestered by vested institutionalized interests.

Can anyone tell without bating an eyelid that Jesus Christ as we know him is an exclusive private merchandise of the institutionalized Church? When someone claims so, it is gross irreverence to the person called Jesus Christ and his philosophy. The great thinkers were and are never any ones private possession. They cannot be possessed by a sect, religion, region or country. The teachings of Buddha and the thoughts of Socrates transcend eons and generations. The dharma and purpose of the life of a King that Sree Rama extolled even at the dire expense of his dear wife cannot be glorified to be the culture of one sect or religion. His life, mythical though conveyed a message to the whole world at large. To claim the gift of such thoughts and  messages meant for the whole of  humanity as exclusively patented or of copyright to a section is ridiculous, outrageous and outlandish. Such thoughts tell one’s pettiness and myopia.

"Father they know not what they say”!

The birth of Christ and its commemoration is a universal celebration, because his exhortation and teachings were meant for the whole of humanity, and not for the stretch of land in Palestine , or self proclaimed Christians. The philosophy of “ahimsa” or non violence, the moral creed of Satyagraha conveyed by Mahatma Gandhi are not to be confined to a few Indians, it has universal relevance.

If a patron of another faith, let him be a Hindu a Muslim, a Jew a Buddhist a commie or an anarchist feels and states that the teachings and philosophy of Jesus is alien and hence wrong and harmful, or is an exclusive merchandise to be pedaled by a particular group, he or she is widely proclaiming his/her impetuosity and retarded development of their brain.It is unfortunately our shortcoming and limitation that we cannot see teachings of great masters as all encompassing and universal, touching each and every facets of life, transcending continents.

There are also claims on this Xmas day that the lands in Africa, America and Asia were resurrected and civilized from barbarism by the advent of Christianity. A grossly mediocre statement lacking in knowledge of history! To claim that the native Indians were more barbaric than the church going Europeans is the unkindest cut of all. The inquisition, the purge into the Americas , the expeditions of Christian missionaries into the unchartered lands of Africa by the connivance of the official Roman and Spanish Church only decimated and eliminated the ethnic cultures , traditions , pagan life styles and systems of the natives. The most brutal of conversions took place in the Americas by the Spanish and that was in total variance with what Christ stood for.Remember, those  few  fisher folks became his apostles, his disciples out of their volition and not enticement, lure or brutal force.

And it is a shame to dedicate in the memory of Christ ,the mayhem unleashed on the native populace to purportedly civilize them, and to remind us of those horrendous acts on this Xmas day, is injustice and unchristian.

Xmas is not for the Church alone!

"Sweet Caroline"

 Sweet Caroline" is a song of beauty written , composed and sung by the effervescent Neil Diamond.It was I see , released in  the late 60’s. The song reached the 4^th in the Billboard and went on to win the platinum for highest solo.

Neil Diamond  was inspired by the little daughter of JFK, Caroline ,, who was hardly into her teens when he wrote the song..He sang the song again on her 50 th day celebration in 2007.

Plagiarism , though, I rededicate this song to the Caroline ( Christy) , who I know  and has been with me for the past 23- Xmas days, who is more sweet, more beautiful, aint that tall, aint that skinny, but I , Ara and Radhu are blessed to have with us. Because she has a heart that cannot hate, and not love! And happy birthday to her and Jesus Christ- December 25 , Xmas day.

Where it began 
I can't begin to knowin 
But then I know it's growin strong 

Was in the spring 
And spring became the summer 
Who’d have believed you'd come along 

Hands, touchin hands 
Reachin out 
Touchin me 
Touchin you 

Sweet caroline 
Good times never seemed so good 
I've been inclined 
To believe they never would 

But now I 
Look at the night 
And it don't seem so lonely 
We fill it up with only two 
And when I hurt 
Hurtin runs off my shoulders 
How can I hurt when I'm with you 

Warm, touchin warm 
Reachin out 
Touchin me 
Touchin you 

Sweet caroline 
Good times never seemed so good 
I've been inclined 
To believe they never would 
Oh, no, no 

Sweet caroline 
Good times never seemed so good 
I've been inclined 
I believed they never could 
Sweet caroline

With you around!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"

“Après moi le déluge”

After me 'The Deluge'.

The statement was reminiscent.

And only man, and man alone

would feel so.

Failing to see  prophetic it is.

Cos, pride and arrogance are his forte!

Defiant to pitfalls and humbling,

selfish and convinced of his vitalness;

lessons never learned.

Only man and man alone can say

After me The Deluge!

A significant insignificance

This is a real life story and happened in multi speciality facility hospital in Thiruvannathapuram.

It is sometime late in the morning and a gluttonous auto rickshaw stutter into the portico of the causality wing of the multi storied hospital complex. Two men scramble out and yell for the attendants. Two uniformed bearers trudge in with a push stretcher. They seem to be quite disinterested and are a bit annoyed at the two men who were yelling frantically and gesticulating into the auto rickshaw. Perhaps the arrival of an auto rickshaw was less fascinating than a chauffeur driven Mercedes .The vehicles that shuttles in the victim or let us say the patient is the frontrunner- the harbinger of the revenue that could be extracted.

A young woman in her mid twenties is carried out of the auto rick and laid on the stretcher. And they suddenly notice the emergent situation and rush the trolley carrying the woman into the causality ward.

The woman apparently attempted to kill herself and failed. She tried to hang to death and was noticed in time and brought to the hospital. Fortunately or unfortunately for her there was some life left in her. The trachea was not severed, and also strangulation has not completely wiped out the air from her lungs. The duty doctors were quite efficient in attending her. The oxygen mask was quickly put on her face the necessary initial aid was quickly administered. The supervisor of the casualty asked the men to deposit an advance amount at the cash counter. The men were quite lost and pleaded they did not have money .The Supervisor immediately summoned another middle aged man who went to the woman lying in fight with death .She was being resuscitated and all medical procedures were being exercised.

The guy was the official gold smith of the hospital. Ever heard of such a position in a hospital?Well he took a good look at the trinkets the woman had on her. He then started to remove them from her person, and went to the cubicle placed in one corner. He closely examined them, a tiny gold chain, and a thin bangle. He began the test to see if the pieces were real.

He made a light scratch on the pieces of jewellery with a small file. Using a dropper, he applied a drop of nitric acid on the scratch he made on the jewellery. He confirmed that the pieces did not turn green, or milky. That ensured that he was dealing with gold and not any base material.He swiftly weighed the jewellery and went out to the supervisor and confirmed the value .This was the way the hospital ensured that treatment to the needy is not denied. They have the facility to either pawn your jewellery to raise money to pay the medical bills or even mortgage your property documents.

The only catch is that if you go there in full consciousness or comatose you must have gold on you or unencumbered documents of intangible assets.

This story was narrated by a friend who has close access to hospitals and is fairly privy to the functioning and administration of some. Infertility being a very grave and serious issue amongst the current generation, infertility clinics are having a gay of a time.

The young doctor graduated from Mumbai and did his masters at the AIIMs New Delhi. He was working in a super speciality hospital in Mumbai, before settling down in central Kerala, where he hailed from. The new job at the infertility clinic was quite to his liking. The hospital had a very liberal and strong clientele of expatriates from the gulf.

However his sojourn there did not last more than ten months. To his indignation he found that he had to acquiesce the management’s way of “fertilizing”. The management wanted to ensure without any demure that every couple who venture to the clinic go back satisfied that infertility is cured. And the woman have conceived. The clinic was well known for the magic treatment even in cases of absolute irreversible male infertility. The conception rate of infertile couples who venture to the clinic is an amazing percent. Our Mumbai returned doctor only had to endorse the modus operandi. And that was, the sperm of the male was invariably substituted, however in total secrecy with only the clinic management privy to the mala fide.

Couples are happy that their irreversible infertile status is reversed and their dreams come alive. The clinic has its revenue swelling.

The Lament of the Formless

He said, “once upon a time I was formless, then

they made me in their way, a look alike, a clone

they didn’t ask me -did I like it their way

they just did it their way.

They put me in temples, in churches;

they decreed that I be in mosques and synagogues

they never wanted me in their hearts”.

He continued his lament

“They made me in stone and clay, in bronze and wood

they crucified a  hapless soul and said it was me.

They put me in hills and mountains afar,

where they tread to ,season after season

raping the  forest and valleys,jungles and streams pristine,

and demand my grace.

Tell me, they made me like them

and what blessed am I to bless?”

He continued thus, and abruptly left-

“I do not want to be their clone;

I want to be the formless that I was

and be at peace, as I ,earlier were,

 when the sun and the  moon ,the stars and the heavens,

the seas and the mountains, and when life 

were not”.

Osho and the "F"

On his grave stone is the engraving”Visited this World”. A person vilified, revered, and continues to be abused and respected even in death.

Sometime ago I received the audio of Osho’s comments on the versatility of the English word “Fuck””.

I chanced to recollect this message , (on the net )that was lying unnoticed now for quite some time until the Blog brought forth over the past few days very interesting wrestling and emotion on the fascinating word “ Fuck” and its distant physical  dramatisation- “the middle finger jerk”

Again I swear by all the Gods in the pantheon that I’m not advocating the rampant use of the word or its middle finger demonstration.

This piece is for fun and some interesting observations.

Osho begins.....

 It is one of the most interesting words in English language today.

There are not very many words  with the versatility of the word  fuck. Besides the sexual meaning, there are also the following uses:

Ignorance: Fucked if I know.

Trouble: I guess I am fucked now!

Fraud: I got fucked at the used car lot.

Aggression: Fuck you!

Displeasure: What the fuck is going on here?

Difficulty: I can’t understand this fucking job.

Incompetence: He is a fuck-off.

Suspicion: What the fuck are you doing?

Enjoyment: I had a fucking good time.

Request: Get the fuck out of here.

Hostility: I’m going to knock your fucking head off.

Greeting: How the fuck are you?

Apathy: Who gives a fuck?

Innovation: Get a bigger fucking hammer.

Surprise: Fuck! You scared the shit out of me!

Anxiety: Today is really fucked.

A morning without the cuppa

Now yet again another note of annoyance and quetch !

The previous week one morning sans the customary cups of hot strong tea, I drove to the hospital.

I was at the Cosmopolitan Hospital for a general physical check up. Fondly known as “executive check up”, considering the decent amount that is charged for the marks on ones physical status.

The procedure through the withdrawal of blood, urine, ECG and X-raying was swift and well conducted. Then came the check on the main engine or motor! The cardio specialist was perhaps in his early forties and well built. A handsome doc who I’m certain turned many a female heads while during his Medical school days. He was quite busy and loaded. But was swift and quite efficient in his physical check on me. He ensured my blood pressure reading was accurate by repeating the process thrice and he did the check himself. He did not ask the nurse to strap the BP apparatus on me. He told me that the diastolic and systolic values were quite identical on all three occasions. His rapid fire questions on my life style and hereditary appendage was over in no time. I guess he smiled inside when he heard my reply to his enquiry on my intake of spirits. Did he strike a chord, a rapport in my answer-“brothers in arms”, perhaps! He was very quick and efficient with the Echo test which he did himself and again did not ask the nurse or someone else to perform. He gave me his interpretation of the test forthwith and did not show any air of secrecy and ‘why should the patient know” attitude of some physicians. He sent me for the TMT and it was done by another person. His summing up of my test reports was quite friendly and well analysed. He was quick as time was a premium factor for him. But at the end one felt a sort of comfort that one was to a physician who takes his job and the person who visits him with the necessary attitude, however cramped he is for time.A relatively clean chit vis a vis blood and urine samples they tested.

The nurse then sent me to a general Physician, and I still cannot understand why the heck she wanted me to meet that fellow.

He was in his sixties and not for once did I recall him look at me in the face. He perfunctorily set the stethoscope on my chest and withdrew it immediately as if something stung him. He threw a few questions at me (that sounded like out of a recorded tape dictation) even without taking a glance towards me. I wonder if he knew I was a man or woman. He seemed to be a person quite fed up with his job or was he not, was it indifference? 

I wonder if doctors cannot see the necessity to receive and look the patient in the eye, what kind of analysis, diagnosis can happen? And can visits to such physicians erase ones apprehensions even if the verdict is all clear? Doctors seldom deem it necessary to explain the diagnosis or the treatment procedure to the patient even in the language a lay person can comprehend. Some doctors keep an air, and they disapprove or frown upon any questions regarding the diagnosis, prognosis or the medications they prescribe. And asking any can evoke response and disquiet severe than the hullabaloo ignited by the WikiLeaks.

In the final summing up, I have a clean chit apparently, and the vehicle can move on.