Saturn

I write this from a very personal angle. A subject that is touched upon because of my sceptical demeanour. And I cannot for the love of God accept the matter per se as it doesn’t fit into any inference that I can reach based on thought and reason. I cannot yield to the lure of the mysterious and the unknown and content as inviolable fact. Or for that matter the promise of paradise in after life. For, I do not want a blank and postdated cheque. And I say this without offense and wish people who disagree on the points here in do not take this as a brusque.

I have been having a torrid time since the past two odd years. Though not personally, professionally it has been an abysmal free fall into a grotesque black hole, with ramifications on ones psyche and personal fortunes. One can call it design, destiny, miscalculations or sheer bad luck. 

When the subject must be attributed to design and or destiny, the responsibility of the protagonist is absolved. For, then, when matters of life on earth are designed, dispensed by someone what could a victim do other than be victimised? Then, one is just a marionette. If it is to be attributed to one’s personal incompetence , error coupled or by sudden twist in events  different from planned - call it vicissitudes, then the blame can be put at the door of the person or be apportioned between the hands that destine and the unfortunate victim.

So when things are going wrong, the earthlings seek the assistance of a learned person who calculates the positions and movements of the members of the stellar system, what and where the planetary cast was when one was born. This is said to determine the reasons for why it was, why it is and what now and after.

I got a phone call from my cousin sister yesterday and she called me after an appointment with a quite old and revered distant relative who has much expertise in astrology. He read and studied my horoscope and explained to her his findings and the panacea to alleviate the effect of the ills set forth by the stellar conjunctions. She was wary of my reaction though she reeled out the findings, reasons and advice. The gentleman told her I’m eclipsed by the influence of Saturn and there may be slight remissions from the following month. Though the celestial object will not let me off the vice grip till 2016. He attributed the past disasters to the eclipse by Saturn which has its portentous shadow over me. The advices and suggestions were, to be restrained in spending and have much care in physical health (which he alleged, I do not care now). He threw a window open when he said there are possibilities of lost fortunes being retrieved. And finally, a limited redressal can be brought about by propitiating one among the holy trinity.

I just leaned back after the telecom and reflected upon the information what she passed on to me. I thought of Saturn, the splendid planet which is almost a hundred times massive than the earth, with sixty moons and nine fabulous ring of ice; Saturn, a distant stellar occupant some 1.67 billion kilometers away; a planet of gas and ice geysers and with density that is so low that the gravity is only about 90 percent of the earth. And, that gives me a room for comfort. Certainly the gravitational exertion Saturn can have on my fate, destiny or even  at the time I was born must be infinitesimally small as it has to travel 1.67 billion kilometers. Perhaps my mother or even the obstetrician’s gravity may have had more influence on me!

I could not reason to agree with the important findings conveyed over phone. As for the advice of practicing thrift, I have not been flamboyant or extravagant literally speaking; the indifference to health is a wrong notion, though I have been as always indulging in the pleasures of alcohol, an occasional smoke or a fabulous meal. And, there is no guarantee that nemesis may not stay away if life is insipidly puritanical. When one is agnostic since the age of seventeen and still unable to see anything remotely satisfying the existence or otherwise of an anthropomorphic big brother it is difficult to heed the last advice too. To accept the existence of a sapient super natural figure to whom I can fall upon and for him to show mercy, seems quite ludicrous. Because, what would make me the chosen one? To even think distantly so will be grossly impudent.

 I cannot see any reason to accept the fondness of human beings to evaluate reality exclusively in terms of human values. If the spectacular planet Saturn is playing dice upon my life and destiny, it certainly will have to be doing so, on the lives of many other living things, beasts as well.

Nobility

                        Who of the two is our adopted child?

Way back in the times when myth and legends that we know of is said to have happened, boons and manna were often dispensed by the Gods. Couples yearning to have a child of their own blood used to engage the preist-dom in sacrificial sorcery and offerings to the heavens, thereupon from the sacrificial fire appeared a god or goddess with the boon that would fecundate and soon a child is born. The mythical treatise of Ramayana mentions King Dasharadh appeasing the gods and his wives bearing children. The legend of Karna was born when the Sun god showered his pleasure on the mother of Pandavas, then still a maiden. The story of Christ is born out of virgin conception- again a decision by the God.  

It seems to have been a pretty easy exercise when the Gods had the sole dispensing right for the baby boom, compared to the trial and error matters with the intervention of man and medical sciences.

I was at the wedding of this gentleman “Y” ,in 1996. He was a friend and business acquaintance. The bride was an Andhraite Brahmin and a very exuberant person. We knew her from earlier times when they were courting.   The marriage was conducted in typical Brahmin fashion. It was an elaborate wedding in Bangalore followed by a elaborate dinner later in the evening.

Though I used to meet him occasionally and was communicating often on business matters we also used to preface our conversations with mutual enquiries after both our families. However, I did not meet his children, though I was aware that his family has expanded. And a couple of years back while I was in Bangalore for a business meeting in his office, he invited me home for lunch.  And I saw his children, a boy and two girls. He introduced me to the boy who was about eighteen. “A, meet my son.” And the girls were one in her adolescence and the other a few years younger.

 It just did not fit for me. First, his wedding year and the age of the eldest son were at odds. A guy married in1996 cannot have a son who is about eighteen in 2009. And bizarre it may be the boy seemed to have a Nepali appearance. It would be grossly rude and discourteous to refer these things in the conversation. And I smothered with the oddity until the next day when I could tell another friend about the confounding matter.

 The fact was that the boy was adopted and of Nepali descent. I was surprised, peeved at my silliness and felt admiration for the man.

Look around and we see many childless couples anxiously running about from temples to churches, and mausoleums before eventually ending up in infertility clinics that have mushroomed around every bend on the road. Gods seldom handout babies and bless with conceptions these days, though the lure and wizardry of faith and beliefs lead people to religious abodes. However, the medical practioner amused and patient waits as he knows that eventually his cash box will tinkle as couples will seek his assistance – cul-de sac.

The cruel irony is that as in any facet of life there are reprobates at large among physicians as well. These men of medicine often exploit the desperation of these gullible men and women who yearn for a child. One may not wonder if the lid is blown on these infertility clinics and their reprehensible and libertine ways are exposed. 

I wonder what precludes people who are physiologically unable to fecundate or conceive from taking recourse to adoption. Even the learned and educated of the gentry make beeline to places that offer supernatural remedies for infertility. Astonishingly they do not reason the course of adoption, which is nobler and practical than conceiving through a donor sperm, having a child through a surrogate or seek upward for the impossible to happen!

The handsome Nepali boy must have been adopted from a shelter for destitute. He must be immensely fortunate to get a home, loving parents and foster sisters. It was pleasure watching the family stay together, play, joke, and live together. Perhaps a rare glimpse of what heaven could be on this earth. And, for Y to proudly introduce him as his son is a prise that is nobler than nobility can ever be!

The Monster-in-Law

“ I,…….. , take thee,….. , to my lawful wedded Husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth.”

The vow of fidelity pronounced, the priest declares the couple “Man and Wife”. This is in true Christian fashion. Though the mutual plight is not necessarily pledged in weddings in other traditions the conduct is such that mutual acceptance as man and wife or woman and husband is emphasised.

But where in these vows or rituals can we find the reference to the “mother- in- law” inserted? I once heard someone (a woman) assert that when a girl marries a man, she also marries the mother-in-law! Hear hear the ones among women who are liberated! Surely this must be a chicanery of male chauvinists in cahoots with mothers in law!

I would not be hurt if fathers- in- law were given similar consideration and importance in matters, because I may be one, one day and then to feel the relegation from priority would be disheartening. But alas that is the way the world has been made- pardon me if I believe it is a woman’s world!

However all is not quite well on the western front. Perhaps it is lucky to be a father-in-law and consequently be ignored. For, the wedlock between a bride and her mother in law has not often been proved an aid to world peace and stability. 

I have been trying to keep my eyes and ears well overhauled to see or hear about a fascinating episode somewhere of a son-in-law – father-in-law affaire in the mold of the typical daughter-in-law – mother-in-law affection that we often hear of. Why it is the in-law syndrome seem to be endemic to women? This happens irrespective of culture, education and grooming. It is often that more defining the education and status, miserable is the relationship of the woman –in law.

I know of this woman hailing from a respectable family in Tamilnad and, she is a senior secretary in the government from the Indian administrative service. However she is perhaps the meanest of women, I have known of. She would probably address a social gathering about the responsibilities and family duties of a woman, then go home and banish her mother-in-law to bed without dinner. Then keep the little sister of the man in the kitchen throughout the night doing chores. These may be simply the pig tail ends of the real life conduct the IAS officer indulges with pleasure and satisfaction.

This does not always mean that the poor mothers-in-law are the offended lot piled over with misery and injustices. Every mother- in- law has once graduated from being a daughter- in-law. And the pendulum swings both ways. In such situations, often than not, the man is not to be seen as absolved, but is pliable, acquiescing and imbecile. Either the fellow is impotent or ductile to the whims of either his wife or the mother.  This should not mean that there are  no miserable fellows  who are caught in the crossfire . 

Psychologists explains away the syndromes as possessiveness of the mother for her son and her subconscious mind dictating that she refuse to  share the affection, attention and care of her son with another woman, an intruder, stranger and an alien. And, alternate cases, the wife feeling exasperated and disturbed by the intrusion of the old hag, the mother-in-law into her privacy and lone moments with her man.  I would rubbish this like the predilections Sigmund Freud was said to have in identifying most thoughts and notions with sex, (It is said that he even related a mother's feelings while she breastfeeds her infant to that of what is akin to sexual pleasure). I wonder if there are any mothers out there who would not ridicule this as Freudian nonsense and obsession. 

The panacea perhaps lies in a bit of understanding by the man that after all the good Lord made “woman”-  harvesting  rib from his rib cage. And he better watches out and let her/them not pick at the remaining ribs!

An exception to the rule of the “monster –in- law syndrome” is the comedy film trilogy- “Meet the Parents”, “Meet the Focker’s” and “The Little Fockers”, wherein the story revolves around a father-in-law in the monster-in-law mould and the son-in-law at his nadir end.

Civility In Argumentation

Blogs, like the superficial world of social network such as fb provide a medium to convey and also hear others. But the difference is that it is not of little substance as the later. An opportunity to see one's thoughts or even ramblings in print and in cloud all for free! (Imagine having to convince a publisher to bet on us). However it will be preposterous to presume and be dictated by one’s fantasies and bias than by argumentation. To rubbish the other out of prejudice will tell more of one’s cussedness. To hold the view that if you are against my opinion you are against me, a dictum followed by Mrs. Indira Gandhi and in the recent past by George.W.Bush is churlish in the least.

Are we able to receive criticism as we would invite appreciation? What would be the reaction to someone who may not agree with us? What would we do when we see someone able to threaten our beliefs or opinions which we know though inexplicable, we need to cling to for comfort or, for it may be necessary to cater our ego and may be even because of the fear of being disrobed? And do we use obstinacy as a shield of defense?  In the final analysis we feel offended .don’t we? Some of us would all the while and some, sometimes.

A tongue in cheek remark! “Yes, your statement, the clichéd judgment you made …, no comments as usual, you may carry on.” Doesn’t that tell more of the acerbic state of mind than a discerning repartee? Or it can also be because of misconstruing. In any case the loss is the spirit of debate.

It is a matter of fact that matters that are governed by social etiquette may not be confined to sexes, they overlap; there are certainly characteristics predisposed in the male of species and differently in female of species (man and beast). The matter is more evolutionary and how Nature has chiseled. And gregarious social life or formative and later day education may not necessarily completely erase evolutionary predilections. I’m apprehensive of commenting on such issues as there can be veiled and wanton statements categorising me as a women baiter. Which will certainly be as wild an allegation borne more out of inability to understand what I state and the spirit behind it? A statement of the kind mentioned in the paragraph above is deliberately left ambiguous and more than that it is subtle and crafty, assigned to euphemistically convey a message. “You conceited arse hole, you may brag but I don’t care, because I can never be wrong.”

It, to me would be akin to a termagant who wants to convey to the spouse her displeasure towards his indifference for something she fancies, but would love to exult in conveying messages through subterfuge, innuendo and as ambiguous as possible, (also say beat about the bush) to finally wear him out rather than confront him directly and tell him in simple language what she wants or means. Pertinently, not doing so is also the sign of the inability to convey in words and with reason why the person dissents. Also tells the confused mind the person keeps, though he/she would love to think otherwise-crafty allusions rather than facts that should convey the reaction in logical terms. An insurgent, guerrilla mentality perhaps!

I’m afraid of the notion, be it in me or other that what one says and believes is right and inviolate. Especially when one do not will to explain. And if the other with sufficient conviction and reason can decimate our notion, it is cussedness to play spoil sport and brand the person as intemperate and biased.

Tim Sebastian is an articulate person most of us would remember seeing on the BBC talk show, “Hard Talk”. He had pilloried many famous and infamous through his well-directed questions, crispy comments and retorts. His well-researched interviews have elicited many truths and made the many known for notoriety perspire in discomfort. And not that his observations were never repudiated effectively by the interviewee! Once, he was asked what he feels when sits across the table with the famous and the infamous. He commented that, it was his job and what he ensures at the closure of an interview was only to not shake hands with criminals and the ones with blood on their hands. Well are there folks amongst us with blood on their hands?

I suppose that in a discussion in the social world, it is necessary that one dose show the sagacity and civility to respect a different perspective, or question it with logic. And not be obstinately offended by a critique or comment understood incorrectly and in a wrong context. For being repudiated argumentatively is in fact a graduation to an improved state of mind and thought. Isn’t it so?

Battle of The Bulge

The battle has not been fought to win .It was not fought at all.

Now the counter offensive could be late and the enemy is entrenched over the past decade and more. And once dug in, the enemy is in a strong hold and may require a war to annihilate. But then where can one seek the will? The will, the determination and perseverance to wage the war, move meticulously forward and evict the enemy from what he has usurped? 

But introspection is required too. Any failure in battle calls for a post- Morten. And that revealed high magnitude of lethargy and indifference, a casual nonchalant attitude, a lack of proclivity to discipline perhaps! And that may have brought forth the loss in the battle of the Bulge. Someone opined. “Well actually the battle is not lost, with will there can be a reversal.” I suggested the battle is a losing battle, a lost battle – “The battle of the Bulge”.

I looked in the mirror, turned sideways and saw the profile too. Made no difference, seemed more pathetic. On a 180 cms tall frame a 92 kgs of mass! Goodness that is a well thirteen to sixteen kgs more than what is ideal and advised. 

I went back in the time machine past the last decade, and further beyond. It seemed like the journey in space through a black hole, decades, passed by and I went further, one, two, three and four or there about. I saw what may be justifiably alleged as the emaciated reality that was then. And that was, it was about 168 cms frame and about 45 kgs in mass. It brought back to me the profile of an Auschwitz survivor. A cousin of mine called me, H.W.Longfellow!

At twenty three, came financial independence and thence began the indulgence and excess in gastronomical predilections. Gluttony and devouring of spirits that did not see any need for restraint saw the Auschwitz image metamorphose into what glares back from the mirror today. Fortunately there was above mean levels of outdoor physical exertions, else, I may have simply dropped down flat, never to get back on my feet again or may have had the medical fraternity ripping open my rib cage to fix a few detours in my cardiac arteries. And also because of some good physical chemistry passed on genetically!

Rum then was the favourite liquid to cleanse the gastro- esophageal portions and to wash down gluttonous orgies. Rum, a typical byproduct of sugar cane and from molasses, very reliable elixir to deposit expanse around the mid riff! As means bettered, came along travels and with that, exotic spirits from the Rhineland, Bordeaux and the district of Cognac. However the fascination continued with the good old Indian whiskies and Rum and fabulous food never in dearth.

I moved away from the mirror to under the shower. When the cold water sprayed one me I mused. “What if the battle of the bulge is lost? There has been quite good memories and earned great companions, excellent indulgence in food and drinks, many places went, graduated a fair bit in the bitter, sweet and sour of life and in people. And in the final sum up, it has been a typical mortal existence with mixture of fun happiness, despair, sorrow and elation. Perhaps only got to remember to look ahead and not with crestfallenness. That sometimes is a tough ask. 

Losing the battle of the bulge may have enlightened me a bit of  what life is all about!

Delight at Dawn

This post was inadvertently deleted & hence the re-post now.

This early morning, I was half in sleep anticipating the troublesome wakeup alarm on my mobile. In my half-awake mind, I juggled whether I must go for the jog heeding the dispassionate reminder of the alarm. It was about five am and I was startled into full consciousness by the jolting tone of the incoming text message in the phone. I chose to be lazy not to stretch out to pick the mobile phone and instead decided to believe I did not hear any that and tried pleadingly to sleep again. 

When I finally woke up at around half past six, I remembered the text message and read it. It was from C, and it said that, she has some interesting news for me and that I must call her. I tossed about in mind, what that would be. Later when another message came in a little after, I dialed her.

It indeed was news more than interesting; in fact it was such wonderfully pleasant news to be given early in the morn. She said.”Kuns’s (the pseudonym of the very amiable and loving friend of mine (us)), daughter Ammu is to be married away. And the marriage engagement will be in May followed by the wedding in September.”

The delighting news, besides it being a matter that all dear and near look forward to has more reasons for me ,C and surely some of my close friends to be beaming about. Ammu, the little girl she once was and now an Engineer in Electronics is the first child of the generation next to be born to one of the fellows in our close circuit of friends. And S, her mother was expecting her when she brushed away the trouble of the advanced pregnancy and was at our wedding, twenty four years ago.

I may not make it to the engagement in May, which C would definitely be present at. But I will surely have to make it to the wedding, come September. I called up her father, my pal later in the morning and reminded him that he and S, now need to look more like parents (they both radiate a much younger disposition and appearance than any of us).

How inexorably time fly by! Twenty and five years ago who among us would have dreamt in any of our moments of even wild drinking revelry, of such fascinating dream? Perhaps the same was true, yes certainly so, to our parents too. A few more years down and all these kids will be adults walking away into their chosen horizons, leaving…! 

And deluge would seldom happen when we may vanish into the horizon before- for the law of Nature states that matters are cyclical. There will be bees to drone and collect nectar in flowers that bloom each day, the birds will continue to chirp and chatter, the little fishes with their myriad colors swim about in the waters in delight along with the mightier ones, the dogs will wag their tails and bark lovingly when their masters come forth, the sun will rise and set giving way to the moon and the stars- the world will relentlessly turn round and move around for the seasons to enliven all the wonder and another generation will be born for another to give way..

A Dream Still Born

                       "I'm a steam train,big and tough,
                        Riding steel rails, hear me chuff;
                        Running on my steel railroad track,
                        Smoke is steaming from my stack."

Hitch your vision to the stars. Did someone famous say that? I guess so. The fact is I never did really hitch my vision to anything stellar .And when I look back it was more of a variant of   drift wood  kind and  that I was fortunate at times to  ebb with the tide and at  other times get smothered by chance. So there was no real manual design behind what I’m today. Is that not the sign of lackadaisical character?

Strong are the ones who do not let lives be designed and dictated by vicissitudes and the roller-coaster of existential living. They design and chart their course like voyagers who deftly chart the navigation on the vast and seemingly endless seas. And their persistence and perseverance enables them to manoeuvre the vagaries of the mysterious waters and finally say aloud, “Land ahoy”.

As a child I was fascinated by the train that was pulled by the steam locomotive engine. The rail road passed through my neighbour hood and I never failed an opportunity and let go a chance to stand on the over bridge, or the street adjacent to the rail road and watch with enchanted fascination locomotive pull the cars, huffing, puffing and with the occasional shrill whistle that sent  jet of steam out through the exhaust vents. The swish, whistling and hissing the steam engine creates; its huge wheels that are connected by shafts that rotate in synchronous harmony, were wonderful sights and to behold in awe. The manual hand signal on the side of the rail track gave a good indication of when the train would pass. And I would stay put for minutes for the signal to assert and then get overwhelmed with excitement when the engine appears in the distance like a black spot .Then to gradually appear larger in size and vision. When it entered the under the bridge on which I stood transfixed, the brief couple of seconds the huffing becomes distant then to be heard on the other side of the bridge to soon speed off to vanish with the cars in tow beyond the bend on the rail road! The smell of burning coal, though tantalising would also send tiny specks and dust of residual coal into the nostrils and eyes. A less intense consequence when compared to the awe the whole picture gave me!

I decided when I become man I must be a train driver. The huffing-puffing locomotive stayed lingering in my dreams while asleep and the subject to build castles while awake.

It was then by chance and luck of great magnitude as I saw it, that I could travel in the locomotive along with the driver and his assistant. This fortune came my road many, many years ago while I was in Kottayam during a mid- summer vacation from school. I was sent to my aunt (mother’s sister) who lived there. She lived in the housing quarter provided to her husband who worked in the Railways. The housing quarter was a stone throw from the main tracks of the train station and a small open park straddled the railway tracks.

It was one evening and I was with some boys of my age playing in the park. When a locomotive hissed by and stopped with loud clutter and clatter on the track near us. We turned our attention and ran towards the engine. It was driven by someone who was the parent of one of the boys. He asked us if we would want to hop in for a ride. And I guess I was the first one to jump for the invite. So there and then I did my first and only travel in the locomotive .The driver was on a shunting mission and for some fifteen minutes he took us in. I could even help his assistant to shove coal into the furnace and also they let me tug at the cord overhead that sent shrill whistle. It was fascinating experience of a dream that became very true and  nothing alike was felt when I chanced to travel first time in an aero plane.