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.