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”

"Time out"

He was a gregarious fellow. Warmth was his discerning attribute. Sprightliness was his greatest quality that without any pause would connect and engulf anybody and everybody who were known to be proximal to him. He was short, 5’3, bearded and slightly dark complexioned. The pair of eyes he possessed would rove around the court keener than radar, and were bright like marbles. His vocal sound was less heard because of the ubiquitous whistle he had on his lips like a cigar. He was nimble footed on the court than the most proficient ballerina. In fact he was agile, swifter, dancing and prancing than any one of us .And he was 45 years of age.

He lived single. None of us thought of asking him if he were married or ever was, because he never was seen in loneliness and feel. One of us quipped once that his nature was so because he chose to not to mutter “I do” and be sacrificed at the altar!

He was on the basket ball court at 6 in the morning and that seemed to be a definite happening than the sun coming up in the east. The morning session of basket ball coaching used to extend till 8.30 when he blows his whistle longer and louder to tell us its “time out”. He was again back on the court at 4 in the afternoon to carry on with his basket ball coaching till sundown and sometimes even with the lights on till later into the dusk.

Once during a session we boys were divided into two groups of six and had to play amongst us, as a prelude to the selection process for the district team .He chose to play himself in one of the groups . And goodness me, he was prancing like a gazelle defter than us in our teens. The amazing and hilarious part was him climbing over the tallest guy, 6’3 and shove the ball into the basket. With his height he could never reach the stars, was the general comment we used to make. But his ingenuity was pretty good, and he had an alternate in mind for every situation where he was handicapped, and to any one of us inhibiting.

He had this unforgettable quality of sharing and giving. That he mentored a couple of kids from penurious background with whatever was necessary for their food, clothing and education. He loved each one of us, cracked sizzling jokes, played pranks which would perhaps be dearer in living rooms at our homes. Some people make meaning and sense for the planet to go around and for the world to move on with hope. And he was one such!

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A quarter century went by and it was during the college reunion that we heard about him in sick bed. We understood that he continued his basket ball coaching all those years. The routine was maintained without fail. And the brake was natural when he took ill and was bed ridden.

 We went with flowers and “get well soon” cards to see him in his hospital. One of the guys remembered to carry a silver plated whistle with engraving, “to sir with love”.

He was emaciated from the illness. He still sported the beard which surprisingly had not fully turned white. His eager shining eyes seemed to be reliving the past days on the basket ball court. He smiled and held out his hand to each one of us. His eyes did display the agonizing pain he lived with. He could barely speak. And fatigue overtook his small attempts to speak.His eyes told us that he wanted to be on court with us.

With the childish glint in the eyes and with  trembling hands, he accepted the whistle from us.He smiled, his pale face showed signs of times from the past.He  held the whistle tight in his fist and muttered “TIME OUT”. We noticed his eyes wander and  head fall back slightly to the side on the pillow – he passed away. 

In God's name

Those of us who have seen the cover of the Time magazine of the week will retract in horror at what man can inflict on his own kind. Let me recall the picture of the woman with a gaping hole where her nose was.   Mutilated, chopped off by the self proclaimed puritan Muslims of Afghanistan. Her crime, having born in a medieval society which is sliding faster into the black hole! The abhorrence of the act which will be displayed in her face as long as she is alive, pales into insignificance compared to the absolute silence of the Muslim intelligentsia all over the world who ostentatiously  swear by woman’s rights, and respect for the fairer sex, and quote the  holy text to that end.. It really is sheer nonsense and of no vain that the scholarly and erudite Muslims world over proclaim that such acts are un- Islamic. Does it really suffice and justify if we trumpet that we are against thieving while we stay mute to the very act of thieving? Such silence and tacit acquiescence is similar to the Hindus turning blind eye to the practise of self immolation on the funeral pyre -‘sati’.

I have been following   articles and stories in various magazines and The Hindu on the French ban on the burqa – the full facial veil for women. And there was a programme on the BBC wherein quite a few young Muslim men and women where speaking on the ban and allied topics. Ironically even many of those young and educated women on that show swore by their Islamic identity- fair enough,but  for which they considered the veil as synonym and indispensable. How would it be if Hindu women swear by their right to perform ‘sati’i and claim that if they are forbidden it is infringement on their inalienable religious rights? And also claim that performing sati is bringing out their religious identity and that it is display of piety etc? I do not now intent to dwell on the merits and otherwise of the French legislation against the facial veil. That is a different matter and prerogative of the law makers of that country.

People quote scriptures to suit their end. The devil does that often too.

And there are people every where who  condone and clamour for such archaic and antediluvian practises.

Why??

I was once at a dinner elsewhere with a German lady. She was client of mine, a divorcee and now in a live in relationship with a man who himself was divorced and living with his two children. I remember it was my birthday and C had called her a few times to tell her and also remind her that.

To give me a pleasant surprise she kept C’s call a secret of sorts and took me to a restaurant in the country side. I did not tell her about the birthday either. I was quite surprised when the cake with lit candles was brought to our table by the steward.

In course of the conversation and dinner she shot me the question, “how do you manage to live with the same person for long; see the same face both at the office and back at home,. isn’t it terribly monotonous, boring”? I could only smile and perhaps laugh the question away. But for her that was a pertinent question and wonder.

Did the strange habitation happen because I was born to Indian parents and was brought up and lived in this country? Definitely so! Though social cohabitation habits have changed and are also fast getting amended here as well. Virulent western life styles and culture besides assertion of women, perhaps may be the reasons for this change happening .

“When a man has more than one wife, the relationship is termed ‘polygamy’ and when a woman has more than one husband it is termed ‘polyandry’. But the habitation the German fruauline was perplexed about was not polygamy or polyandry but why a marriage does not breakdown  out of being ‘ill’ from seeing the same face and of long time, and long term proximity. And also either or both wandering off to different and newer pastures.

If I told her that boredom and contempt out of proximity, or even mutual necessity are not in vogue she will not believe my eloquence. I still wonder if I will ever find a logical answer to her question whereby she would be convinced and also understand, ‘why’?

Sunday noon

Very often when we do something with intent to comfort or assist someone, ironically we end up facing retribution and scorn. This curious natural law can be seen all across the spectrum of social life, trivial or substantial.

Our Samaria intent is taken for opportunism, selfishness, arrogance and impertinence. The intent is interpreted as malicious. The pain and or effort we put in, howsoever piddling  is not noticed let alone appreciated The only comfort to the victim in this case is to perhaps stick to the advice in the Gita

“karmanye vadhikarasthe,

ma bhaleshu kadhachan”'

But how many of us would like to sit back and apply the verses of the Gita in real life? We end up wishing that we never endeavoured on any act of Good Samaritanship.

Severe rejections of good intent are many if they were to be mentioned. So let me note a little incident that made me feel like an arsehole. Yesterday noon I was driving back from town. I was reaching a quite busy intersection. That was when I noticed this middle- aged , couple, and they were half way across the road. The man was pushing his motor cycle and his spouse was in tow. He could not go back as there were speeding vehicles on the side, behind. I spotted his predicament and braked my car and waited a few feet from those folks, so that they could move on and reach the safety of the kerb. The man suddenly developed a furious expression and started gesticulating at me. He waved his hand at directions to convey that there was enough space for my car to go and why the hell did I have to brake and want to panic him. And not let him cross the road. I waved my hand and tried to tell him that I braked and stopped so that he can get to the other side and not be stranded precariously in the middle where traffic is zooming unmindfully and dangerously. He did finally cross the road, but kept the expression of fury and indiganance.

I watched him reach the kerb and I moved on..

Escapism & Love for Self.

We term certain conduct of people as escapism. This trait or behaviour is in born and practised by many.The trait can also be defined as a way of redirecting ones attention on things pleasant and savouring, on the contrary to the dire realities of the everyday life. The quality can be healthy and assisting. But in extreme forms can be detrimental too to one.

Now, but how should we discuss about people who escape closing their eyes to reality, principles, ethics and duty? These people are not refocusing their attention to pleasant things but are being selfish and forcing themselves to make believe that the fact and the problem don’t exist.

The latter group are practising the art of escapism because of their selfish character. For them call of duty, ethics, morality and love for fellow beings are not at all in their priority list. It is purely self interest that life is all about. Such people identify every aspect of human behaviour with the bench mark of commercial gain and advancement. So they see nothing, hear nothing and enquire about nothing. That is the surest way to avoid confronting realities which they are naturally duty bound to tackle.

I remember a story I read somewhere. The gist is – a highly successful career woman forfeits her career to take care of her grievously ill husband. A friend of hers while on a social call on her commented,’gracious, how unselfish you are to make such a sacrifice’. The woman was rightly and naturally incensed. She fumed and told the friend,’your remark is insulting. I love my husband and this is the most selfish thing I have ever done and ever will’.

The Fountain Pen

Lewis Waterman patented the first workable fountain pen in 1884. However, writing instruments designed to carry their own supply of ink had existed for over one hundred years before Waterman's patent. John Scheffer received a British patent in 1819 for his half quill, the half-metal pen that he tried to put into mass manufacture. And John Jacob Parker patented the first self-filling fountain pen in 1831. However, early fountain pen models were plagued by ink spills and other failures that left them impractical.

Writing instrument-Styli used in the 13 th century

On June 1 st 1969, my mother presented me with my first fountain pen – a beautiful Parker! Her father gave her a beautiful piece while she was in high school. She took care of it and passed it on to me. It thrilled me going to school sporting the pen and begin writing with an ink-filled pen. I ostensibly displayed it in my shirt breast pocket. But when I reached home after school on that fateful day, the pen was gone and only the cap remained stuck in my pocket. How and what came about, I could not explain. And my mother blasted the sheer carelessness. She was distraught and furious. I then wondered why she must fume and curse me for losing a pen, though I felt remorse and guilt inside. It took growing-up and many years of life to fathom the depth and value of a seemingly trivial instrument as the fountain pen, and her pain in my losing it.

Fountain pens were akin to a signature. It told about the person. The longer a fountain pen stayed with a person, the closer it bonded. People of the past seldom offered their fountain pen to another to use or even to pen signature. It was possessed and cared like one's child. And I recall that it was impolite to ask or borrow it from its owner.

When my grandfather used to leave home, he had just a few things to carry or take with him. His glasses, his watch, his money purse, and his fountain pen beside his grandfather's umbrella.

 Laptops, calculators, Blackberry, mobile phones, designer sunglasses, wallets stacked with credit cards, and( maybe) a ballpoint pen have now replaced the spartan things people of the past had on their person.

Fountain pens have had their death knell chimed many years ago. Ball pens and digital writing gadgets disposed of after a single use has completely eliminated the stately fountain pen of yore.

The Parkers. Schefers, Swans, the Watermans, Mont Blanc, and everyone have found to their economic advantage that disposable pens are what would thrive today in place of the ink-filled fountain pens.

Commercial possibilities and commonsense have changed peoples tastes, but it is Man who has lost his signature hold on an instrument that could in time, in the past identify its owner because the fountain pen carried his soul along with the ink.