Wrath of the Heavens

While discussing life’s uncertainties and challenges with friends, they mentioned a conversation about me with a well-known Ayurvedic physician, a firm believer in astrology and a divine “super force.” They confided that they’ve started seeking guidance from astrology and Vastu, even hiring friends to perform poojas and offer incentives at temples recommended by astrological charts. I wondered if their orthodox Christian faith permitted such practices. Doesn’t this border on embracing heretical doctrines? The Bible commands, “I am the LORD your God who brought you out of Egypt, from the house of slavery. You shall have no other gods before Me... Do not make an image or likeness of what is in the heavens above...”

My impertinent question exasperated them. They had discussed my scepticism toward conventional religious dictates with the physician, who urged them to persuade me to meet him for a discussion, especially upon learning I’m an atheist. I don’t entirely embrace that label, as my stance isn’t about denying a “big brother” but questioning his existence and relevance—does it matter if he is or isn’t? We can explore that later if needed. I detest meddling in others’ beliefs and dislike being sermonised, especially when it feels like an attempt to instil fear. My convictions rest on evidence and knowledge available to me now. Who knows? Tomorrow, I might be proven wrong—or right.

I’ve never chased clairvoyants or their intoxicating comfort. Out of curiosity, I once visited an ashram and attended a yoga session with men draped in burnt-orange robes. It felt like “quality opium,” as someone aptly put it—you float like a feather, then crash back to earth, bruised. When I told my friends I’d be open to meeting this physician, they relayed the message, and he smugly responded, “Didn’t I tell you he’d agree?”

One Saturday morning, I met him at his office within his sprawling hospital and nursing home. In his late fifties, he was tall, well-built, and charming. A Padma Shri award hung prominently on the wall, alongside photos of his parents and a Hindu deity. He had clearly built upon his father’s traditional Ayurvedic sanctuary, achieving commendable success. He suggested we might have met before, which wasn’t true. He admitted that, based on my friends’ description, he pictured me as a lean, emaciated man in my mid-fifties. I clarified I’m in my fifties but not bony or skinny. We laughed it off.

He asked about my problems. I explained they’re mostly business-related, with the ups and downs of the commercial cycle lingering longer than usual. In jest, I added that these vagaries might be overstaying their welcome. When he asked if I believed in God, I said I visit temples or churches with equal detachment and don’t pray. I find peace in the quiet of a countryside temple or a sparsely attended church, not in the commercial clamour of places like Guruvayur or Velankanni. He inquired if I was a communist, perhaps overriding my traditional upbringing. I clarified I’ve never subscribed to any “ism”—communism, Hinduism, or otherwise. Since age seventeen, I haven’t prayed or visited temples to petition for favours. He asked if my family had a “kula deivam”—a family deity. I nodded, mentioning my mother’s side has a Devi temple tied to their origins, perhaps a totem. “Have you been there?” he asked. I admitted I visited once, thirty-five years ago.

He declared my professional difficulties stemmed from being a “turncoat, a renegade.” “You were a believer in your teens, then turned your back on your family deity. Her displeasure is haunting you.” I listened, intrigued to see where this would lead. Meanwhile, he had obtained my birth date from my friends and prepared my horoscope. An astrologer—a woman in her early forties—entered, paid obeisance to him, and sat beside me, laying out her traditional tools. She recounted my past and present, which I found unremarkable since I already knew them. Delving into the constellations, she claimed I’m facing the wrath of the family deity. The stars, ominously aligned, would trouble me for nine more years, though the worst had passed and would cease by April 2010. She accurately described my past (perhaps through mystical calculations?) and noted I carry burdens silently. But who doesn’t face challenges? She warned that “nemesis” lurks at my door, and only the deity’s blessings and fervent prayer could avert bad omens.

They proposed a remedy: “You’ve forgotten your Amma, the deity who gave you your mother. Visit her temple, offer wealth, and apologise for turning away. You’ll see the difference.” I didn’t go there to debate or confront. I went because it wouldn’t disrupt my life. But the encounter reinforced a conviction: bribery and corruption begin in the divine’s presence. Offering quid pro quo to the Almighty is the root of sleaze and graft.

I raised a question: many unethical people I know—embodiments of falsehood—frequent places of worship, offer prayers and lavish gifts to God, and lead prosperous lives. Meanwhile, countless others suffer in pain. Could they explain this contradiction? “Don’t think about such people,” they replied, dodging the question.

After this interaction, my beliefs remained unchanged. I’m told to live in fear, appease a “big brother” with offerings, and avoid inconvenient questions. I don’t disparage the physician’s intentions, but I wonder why people are so sensitive about my private worldview. Why must a celestial overseer manipulate cosmic objects to toy with us? Why assume we’re the linchpin of the planet’s existence? The sun will rise and set whether we’re here or not—it’s not “after me, the deluge.” If I could meet this “big brother,” I’d tell him, “You’re terribly inefficient. Retire and let us manage ourselves.”

The question of life’s meaning remains unanswered, a mystery. What do we make of it? A recent message on my phone echoed this sentiment: “A random stranger’s report: celestial bodies would agree a change in their course is overdue. People endure nonsense and sense, often beyond comprehension. How easily a cosmic shift could alter a life. Prolonged inaction burns out the urge to move, yet sometimes it sparks a wanderlust that lasts an eternity. A being pins hopes on celestial bodies to change its course and transform lives.”

The mystery persists, and I’m left wondering: what’s it all for?

With Apologies To Balakrishnan Nair

It was 1973-74. The youth festival at the Government Model High School Thiruvananthapuram was announced. And we in the IX standard – six of us got together to enter in the competition for the drama .Like in the previous year we chose the same duo as our mentors and coach. One of them is now a well known star of comedy in the Malayalam film industry. It was the very same couple who were then doing their pre-degree in the Government Arts College next doors, who chose, trained and helped us towards winning the best prize for dramatics the year before. It was then a play called “Computer Boy” by Veloor Krisnhankutty. The hilarious piece won over the much flaunted and rehearsed grim plays of heart break, debauchery, mental disorder etc of the seniors..

So the second time around, the two coaches chose a serious stuff, and the play was written by one of them. The story line was about a revered retired school teacher. The sub plot was about a delinquent student who comes back disillusioned after years in the wilderness of life. And supplicates to the teacher and beg forgiveness for his past derelictions and antipathy. The play was aptly named “ Vazikatti”. One of the current superstars of the Malayalam films was chosen for the role of the venerable teacher, and I was destined to don the role of the aberrant student.

We rehearsed under the supervision of the duo. The day of the festival and the competition dawned. On the morning of the competition we were involved in our final practice and rehearsals. This was being done in the fifth standard class room which was then towards the flight of steps that goes into the school from the Chengachoola junction

It was around 9 in the morning. The competition was to begin at 2 in the afternoon in the Drill hall. Our coaches called for a brief recess and we engaged in idiosyncrasies and  hearty laughter.

I noticed the gentleman walking up the flight of steps and cross the play ground. It was the English teacher Mr. Balkrishnan Nair. Better known as “Duplicate”. I have no idea why the pseudonym stuck on him. If it was for his countenance and temperament it had to be Tiger( kaduva) or something similar. Over buoyant that I was I shouted at the fellows and tried to garner their attention to Mr. Duplicate walking past. He was approximately 100 meters away from us. And I felt secure enough to howl and shout “Duplicate. Duplicate, duplicate”. All including the coaches began to yell in appreciation'duplicate'. Mr. Balakrishnan Nair did  seem to have ignored our salutation. We got back to our rehearsal.

Perhaps five minutes went by. Stomp stomp stomp the sound of leather boots reverberated on the granite gravel outside the class room. The class room shook as if hit by a quake 8 on the Richter. "Ethu Kazu…… monada  ariyandathu duplicate arranannnu”? (Which SOB wants to be shown who the duplicate is ) And then the thunderous vituperation went on. He was shaking like a huge tree. The rage was tempest like. He was shouting expletives and emphasising each word with the wag of his umbrella. The earth quake went on for a few minutes. None of us moved and bated an eyelid. We were almost near wetting our shorts. And as the whirlwind came, it thence stormed out..

It took a few more minutes for all of us to revive our bearings. And it did not take any longer for the rest to pounce on me. They branded me stupid and trouble maker. One of the coaches (the current comedian &  film star) accused me of betraying the group and the play. What if Mr. Balakrishnan Nair was to be in the judgment committee for the play? The prospect was haunting and a dire posiibility.’you have compromised all of us by your inexcusable and intemperate words and action”. He stated. They were unanimous in asking an apology from me. And that I must go and apologies to the Teacher himself. I was quite piqued that all was out of my doing. That scenario was very discomforting and unnerving. I protested that he might forget the incident. No they said vehemently. The coach ( the current film star) said that there is nothing wrong in aplogising to the teacher for my wrong doing and even Mahatma Gandhi have gone seeking apology from his master .I was a bit amused by the Gandhi story and moral coming from him. He began to tell me about Gandhi savoring meat against his mother’s diktat and then apologizing for his misdemeanor. He was supported by none other than the current super-star.

They literally pushed me out of the place to go in search of the teacher. I wondered what an unjust world! The act of heckling the teacher was unanimous and in chorus, though I implanted the idea. And now they shove me into the lion’s lair. I wandered to the main building of the school and went past the staff room back and forth. On one of my rounds I saw Mr. Balakrishan Nair coming out of the room. I gathered my self and stood in attention and said 'good morning saar'. He nodded and walked past me in his inimitable style. I was expecting another round of verbal or physical assault. But it became clear that in his fit of rage Mr. Balakrishnan Nair could not remember the faces that he confronted.

I walked back to the rehearsal whistling and told the group that Mr. Balakrshanan Nair appreciated my Gandhian act of remorse and repentance.

Educating the Parent

I was introduced to J. Krishnamurthy by Bal .  Prior to my knowing him, I do not remember that if I had passed through any of J.K’s writings or even remember hearing his name. That was in 1983. In any case I was not erudite in reading matters of substance.

I have only read a few of his books and do not even remember if I have read any from cover to cover. Yes, but I have read his “Commentaries on Living”, and that had enough provocative package to think. And there was this captivating appearance of his in photographs, (as I have not seen him in flesh and blood) that was haunting as his words. They make you think and not stay foolishly yawning. I may not agree with his expressions on subjects’ carte blanche. But still many times I found it difficult to defy his opinions with any logic that I could. In fact when somebody calls spade a spade it may not be even within the realms of Einstine to offer a theory or statement to the contrary.

.

I missed sending Ara and R to a school run by the Krishnamurthy foundation, though I have wanted that.  And now when R expressed that she wants a change of school from the last ten years in Connoor the first choice was the Krishnamurthy foundation schools nearby. So few days back I. and C along with R went to the School outside Bangalore for the interview and selection process for admit to class XI.

The school was set in a 100 acres verdant forest land. The reserve forest was engulfing one side. The Principal in the course of our discussion expressed that they always look out for fascinating encounters with the wild life that strays into the boundary of the school.

The children were ushered into the Physics lab for a short written test. And parents along with the Principal and few teachers sat on the mattress in the thatched auditorium. A short video film on a talk by JK was screened. The topic he commented was ‘Education’.

In Krishnamurthy’s very own words,”…if you dominate a child, compel him to fit into a pattern, however idealistic, will he be free at the end of it? If we want to bring about a true revolution in education, there must obviously be freedom at the very beginning, which means that both the parent and the teacher must be concerned with freedom…” But then his views on education like his views on other matters were rubbished as impractical

 The film I presume was perhaps one of his last few public experiences .After the film the Principal invited the parents to interact and express why they wanted to seek admission for their wards in a school run by the foundation and what education they want the child to imbibe.

Quirk some were the comments that followed!!!

The first speaker parent fell head over heels – semi prostrate like they do for ‘namaz’.

“Praise to Sri Sri Sri Krishnamurthy”, he began. It was amusing and also a stunningly comical beginning to the interaction. It also immediately reminded me about the religious cults that mushroomed with the camouflage of yoga discourses and hearty living etc. I adamantly decided that this guy was from the particular Swamy’s cult. And bingo he was ha !!Then came the lectures and discourses from a retinue of parents. Discourses, ideas statements that I m certain J. Krishnamurthy never thought of even remotely. One parent began his soliloquy and ended saying that “…. so we all should work towards achieving Krishnamurthy’s dreams”. The Principal a demure looking man suggested politely that JK had no goals and dreams. The parent looked bewildered and I m sure must have decided that the Principal was definitely a nitwit to say so. I felt that the Principal was unwittingly sparking a controversy suggesting that JK never said or meant what they were wholeheartedly attributing to him.

Then a parent mother began in a forcibly accented English,” You see the strife in this world is caused purely out of our greed, our lust to achieve. We feel that a luxury car, a LED Television, a journey to Walt Disney etc is necessary. JK was different. He never asked for all this luxury….”. Oh my goodness I wondered with discomfiture this woman was making a Mahatma Gandhi out of J. Krishnamurthy.

Another parent began her discourse. She gave the feeling that she wanted to anoint JK posthumously a ‘swamy’ a ‘god- man’. Yet another suggested after his comments that we all must work towards setting up a JK country.

There were fascinating retorts subtlety stated by the Principal and another teacher. But in the final analysis I felt most  that  the parents missed out on the vital question that JK made in the film,” what kind of education do you as parent want for your child”.

During his life what Jiddu Krishnamurthy said and wrote ignited both interest and controversy. His observations on religion, nationalism, tradition, organizations, and relationships often ran counter to the convention of the day. I state this with a very basic and limited reading I have had of Jiddu Krishnamurthy’s writings. I felt after listening to the people who were there to deposit their children into JK’s lap for education that they have missed the wagon.

As he was during his life he still is ahead of his time, our time, in matters of education, religious views, nationalism, relationships etc. Sadly they missed the gentle speech of the ‘old man and insights on education. Krishnamurthy presented education as a serious activity that must engulf the whole of a child whilst people, most of them still see it as preparation for succeeding in a materialistic world. 

I came out of the school concluding that the vogue of the upper middle class including myself is pure hypo critic bonhomie with Krishnamurthy. And it is sheer vanity that expresses the sobriquet ‘JK’ nothing more, nothing less. Will the children be different?

"Matahari"

This is the story that has to be retold.

So I will try to lay bare the monologue that was passed to me .Which means this short piece will be in third person and that in itself might leave most of the foretold story not repeated here, and may even invite your imagination and inferences.

He began, “The cruelest thing one can do to her is to portray her as a perfection of virtue”.

To me the statement was quite familiar to a extract in some book I read long ago. But I let him continue.” In her childhood the grains of deceit, and selfishness were sown. In fact she was born with the diabolic gene. And circumstances, penchant and craving for all that were sybarite beckoned her to the distant city. Though she, to get purchase over her low middle income parents purportedly devised a story that they bought with some whimper and beamon.That she has endeavored on the journey to shoulder responsibilities for them. In fact the stark reality was that she was not content with the Spartan and archaic life in that tiny village”.  

I wondered loudly if those were not the times when women were not let out of home without a proper escort. “True” he said, “Kiran Bedi had not passed out of the University and was not a cop yet. But to equate her to the extraordinary persona of that lady Kiran Bedi would be blasphemous”.

He continued” she was restless and ambitious. And from very early in her life in the metropolis she migrated to, she learned that if she can be pliable she can conquer the world .She did spent many of her early days in the metropolis with meager subsistence food. But she learned fast. And evolved fast into a creature that would dwarf Lady Macbeath and Matahari put together”.

“She excels in falsehood, and is person par excellence in the art of debauchery. Even if it is her kin she is ruthlessly excellent in decimating anything that and anybody who can say nay to her. She has the charm and suave countenance that will snow under any person who has not felt her witch craft.”

Your soliloquy about this creature reminds me of the song ‘devil woman’, I interrupted.

“She had and still has an uncanny way with men” he continued.. And like ‘may- flies ‘to a beacon they flocked to her. She could move with ease from placements to placements. And sooner than she imagined she could make her parents nitwits and pliable to her whims. She noticed with passion and impudence that money talks and also can silence with macabre slight.

But did she try to carve a life for her, a life perhaps which she can take refuge to when age catches up, or as it is said in her faith ,’when the day of reckoning’ come? I enquired.

 “Well she did try and almost succeeded, but….! But she could never be content or satisfied neither physically nor materially.And it is said that goes to this day.She had this fascinating but chilling and goulash acumen to foresee, she trusted no one! The ‘may –flies’ swarm in plenty and she handled them with deftness and finesse .Her wedlock to one such proved to be shorter than the average in Hollywood. .He parted, it is alleged because he wouldn’t father an obnoxious. Nevertheless she exulted in a bigger catch. That was no may- fly, it was a big fish that fell to her wiles. But the big fish had different ideas and it was no fish, but a shark. And eventually after a few years it weaned her away with ease and vehemence. She bitterly began to learn that her wiles and trappings were losing its sting”.

What about her parents and siblings back home in the village? I asked.

“Well” he continued, “she did throw tit-bits at them. And since she wielded the power of wealth she made, lips were sewn together and there was no sort of dissenting voices. She would give away as long as she can silence the other and as long as she knows for certain that some body can be bought. And also that she can use the taker as her door mat. She built about her an air of sacrifice and forsake. She perpetuated seemingly though the shadow of renunciation. But  many who were awed by her debonair and skills saw that she extracts a far too highly disproportionate pound of flesh in return, and that destroys lives. She carefully cultivated the charm of the faithful and the fearing. The society was led to believe so. It is also said that in spite of their conservative God fearing, background, her parents conveniently chose not to disapprove of her doings, though they were not dunderhead enough to not see through the mirage.

“This gives quite a picture which is difficult; for me to fathom. And with origins from a family with leanings on tradition this diabolic character is hard to masticate”, .I expressed my sickness about the short story so far. .“So then are we reaching the end of the Greek play”? I added.

“The drama has not run its full course yet. And I’m not a clairvoyant to look at the crystal globe and tell without an iota of uncertainty what would be in store to the end. But there is something I would like to add. She will not let others enjoy the goodness of life if destiny denies her them. She has in various ways of artifice routed the lives of almost all her siblings. They do not have the peace and contentment which she could not have .But some of them are too clever to be doleful about that. Money can buy what character cannot! .She diabolically acts spoiler. And with subterfuge she tries to hold on to her matriarchy.”

This brief gives me a creepy feeling, the kind of feel I got after reading the Bram Stalker or the ‘Magician’ of Somerset Maugham. But then if destiny refused her something, she perhaps in her most solitary moments would rue, it must be only because of her deeds. As they say “chickens will come to roost”. I said. I do not believe in providential justice of retribution but yet I wished it played its natural part in her life.

In Praise of "C"

There are certain times in ones life, and that certain times, often at times revisit to our helplessness, consternation and awe. And those certain times sometimes stays as the pleasurable fun moments of ones life even if one is a little peeved.

There are quite a few of such times. The  first such a time was way back in 1988 and was during the honey moon times I guess. We were living in Cochin. And one day I and C went to the Tandoor restaurant off the Woodland hotel for dinner. Those days that was one of the few respectable eateries in Errnakulam and affordable too. As places like Sea Lord, Pandal and the Malabar were out of financial bounds. It was also an occasion to shadow impress my spouse and also an occasion to showcase that I have a pretty and beautiful wife .ha!!!The restaurant was full with people. I was sitting opposite C and sported an air. Subconsciously and furtively watching if people around were noticing us. And to my glee indeed they were!! The steward took down our order of dishes and placed the array of tanginess and sauce on our table. And C began to investigate the sauce. She poured the tomato sauce on to her plate. And when she poured the solution came out in full, and began to almost overflow along the bottle I expected her to casually wipe the sauce of the bottle edge, but to my utter panic she started consuming it off the bottle edge. And she began relishing the sauce all on her fingers. I could see the people around wide eyed. How I wished I buried myself down under!

Many years later we were traveling on the Tea Garden from Coiambatore to Ernakulam. The train was leaving at almost midnight and I was longing for a berth to sleep. I was allotted the top most berth and folded up immediately. The last thing I noticed before I fell asleep was C engaged in animated discussion with a middle aged well dressed man .Some time later I was shaken awake by C. She was leaning on the berth and whispering to me to come down that the guy is a minister. Fantasies flashed through my mind and saw myself becoming a minister’s chum, sure that will do a lot good to my business. I hurried down shook hands with the gentleman and sat opposite. C said that the gentleman wanted to visit our factory. I nodded in acceptance. He stretched across to me his business card. I accepted that in glee. And there it was imprinted on the glossy surface, “Brother Paul Arokyaraj,”

                                                 Minister of The Lord

I almost jumped out of the running train but scampered back to the top berth without a word.

This friend of mine took fancy to star gazing. He, prompted by his new found interest joined some astronomy society and began his quest to know and study the night sky. Honestly at times his monologues  on stars, constellations

 and signs was an unavoidable bore. Unavoidable because he was a nice person.C was impressed with his lectures.I guess she picked up a bit of knowledge from this guy. And she was quite indulgent in impressing me about the things she learned about the twilight skies. One night we were sitting outside in the verandah of our home. The

 sky was well lit with stars. She suddenly jumped up  pointing her fingers at the southern skies. 'There the Southern Cross',

 in all its glamour. I gazed at the spot she was pointing and asked her how I can identify the constellation She said “come on even a child can figure out   , dey a mukkonam kandille, that is the Southern Cross”. Since that day I decreed that this astronomer friend must not utter a word about stars when he is with us..( she meant didn't you see that triangle that's the southern Cross).

A couple of years ago we made a private trip to the USA. I was always fascinated with the Yellow Stone and the Canyon. So the journey was a fulfillment too. The journey was financially well thought out. I got the tickets from my airline miles. And the time being the days when the US was plummeting into recession we could get a good overall bargain in hotels food etc. My friend’s sister who lives and works in a tour operating company in the US arranged and booked our stay and inland travel. She got us an amazing resort hotel inside the Yellow Stone Park called “The Snow King”. The hotel was on a hillock overlooking the town of Jackson. It was exciting, the touch down of the aircraft deftly flying between the Rocky Mountains and taking a veering position for landing. The drive from the airport through the Elk refuge into the typical cow boyish town of Jackson. We checked into the hotel and the concierge told us that we have reservation for a King- Queen suite. We checked into the room. The room was wonderful. C literally jumped in and ran to the huge window which had thick curtains drawn across. She pulled back the curtains and called out to me in awe and wonder... I was in the bathroom. She yelled ‘dey come on and have a look at the Alps, how fantastic they look”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Later C told me that her subject was Economics and not Geography Ha!!!!

The previous month R was home for a while before her ISCE exams. Her mother promised her that she will teach her Math and History. She is quite sticky with Math. Perhaps she took after me. Math was always my Waterloo.

And Ara too! Math is his nemesis. We were at the dinner table and I mentioned my pathetic performance in Math in school. But I opined that if a mental block or aversion takes over early then Math as a subject will be ones grave yard. C interjected. She said well for me as well Math was a big impossible labor.  I have been given zero in the exam in school. But I always wondered how could that ever have happened? After all it is so easy to score marks in Math. I did remember writing 1 +1 = 1. , and they gave me zero for that. How could that be??

The children yelled and howled. Ara put his arms around his mother and implored ‘Amma please do not teach R Math. She will learn by herself”

C still did not understand the yelling, catcalls and howling.

Krsihna & Radha

Holier than thou folks and peddlers of morality were livid at the Supreme Courts observations on men women relationship premarital .And I have the misfortune to know some of the ilk at close quarter. So since quite some time I chose to not interact in anyway with  such folks as they eat, drink and breathe hypocrisy. And as it is said in Doctor Zivago "your health is bound to be affected if, day after day, you say the opposite of what you feel, if you grovel before what you dislike. Our nervous system isn't just fiction, it's part of our physical body, and it can't be forever violated with impunity." In fact proximity to such people can have the same effect on us too, don’t you agree?

The Supreme Court of India’s observation on “living together” has disconcerted many moralist and pedagogues of Indian culture, tradition and values.
Fatwa against premarital sex and cohabitation cannot be inflicted or imposed on individuals. And a society that value fundamental right and personal freedom to lead life as suited to ones thoughts and feelings will not hinder. If one does not appreciate cohabitation and premarital sex one is free to do so as the person who sees nothing malevolent in the opposite. The moralist and puritans who raise their brows and are outraged by the Courts observation must remember the quote “morality is best practiced in a nudist society”.
And though the analogy of Krishna and Radha is a romantic myth, the life of Dhrupadhi cohabitating with five men is definitely not the point that was ever raised by actress Kushboo or the Supreme Court to decry the contention against premarital sex and cohabitation
If the values the moralist hold for support is the essence of Indian culture and lore then there are ample instances in the Hindu mythology where Gods and Godesess have repeatedly engaged in sex outside wedlock. We have parthenogenesis in Judaism, Christianity and Hinduism where Gods and warrior men were born outside wedlock. And followers of those religions worship such men as Gods and messengers of Gods .This is not an argument in favour of such acts of promiscuity or liberality. But the right of two adults. Man and woman to cohabit without the sanctity and approval of the institution called wedlock or have physical relationship, is basic fundamental right and no personal predilection prompted by any thoughts , be it culture , heritage or morality should be allowed to infringe.

Purist who cries foul and term the Court’s observations as outlandish has a point
Though. redefining morality may put the mind and thoughts of the young in jeopardy and they may incubate erroneous ideas about cohabitation outside the nuptial fence. It can also be argued that the institution of the family will be at peril. And social upheaval and disorientation in due course of time will be quite bad.

I agree absolutely about the value and life family can provide to the young and the adult alike. And the corner stone and bulwark against bewildered and lost child hood is the comparative protection one gets in the cocoon that is family.

But the question is, if my son or daughter opt to not accept the legal sanctity of marriage and decides to cohabit with their companion, partner or spouse – what should be my reaction? I do not want to discuss the other part of the contention i.e. premarital sex. Because that may be best left to the individual. And I do not have any volition to dictate, instruct , coerce or debate an adult son or daughter to abstain from physical relationships . Ones private life need not be of upheaval to the society.
The lighter side of the subject in discussion is a brief statement of my childhood friend who lives with his family in the USA. He apparently told his daughter and son that he definitely will hold no prejudice and objection to their marrying or living with somebody be it a black, an arab, a hispanic or Chinese, be it a muslim, a jew, or an agnostic as long as the member is of the opposite sex! You can laugh it away as an apt discourse in the American world.

Lieutenant Just Nuisance Able Seaman

Simons Town off Cape Town in South Africa is the base of the South African Navy. The navy has its presence in this tiny sea port with a natural bay, since the early days of the Dutch colonisation of the country. I did see half a dozen naval vessels berthed in the harbour. It is a fishing town as well.

The town is busier than the Wellington Island in Cochin - the naval base in Kerala, India. Simons Town is idyllic and perhaps life style a bit laid back. In any case South Africa has not much contingencies or events to engage its navy. Hence the sea men too are at ease.

Back in 1930's in Simons Town lived Lieutenant Just Nuisance Able Seaman. The name did sound strange to me when I heard of it and unforgettable too. Well, before he was commissioned into the South African Navy, Just Nuisance could be found  moving around the town and was very fascinated with the naval folks . He was often found with the naval officers and sea mates loved him. He saw off at the wharf, sailors embarking to battle in the Second World War. He had this strange routine of traveling from Simons Town to Cape Town and back by train. This was unfailingly followed by him every day. If he missed one train he patiently waited for the next. But to the outrage of the Afrikaners he would only travel first class. Remember those were the times of segregation based on colour, and all coloured and natives were bete noire. The whites had no qualms in throwing coloured folks and natives from even moving trains. The incident at Pietermaritzburg train station back in the late 1800’s involving an Indian barrister Mohandas Gandhi and the criticism it evoked later did not deter the Afrikaners from boorishness. But, with Just Nuisance they could not have their way, they were helpless. He insistently traveled back and forth every day, by first class and ticket less. The whites were apparently outraged and annoyed but had to put up with his rebellious behavior which was in a way Gandhian “disobedience”.

The Mayor of Simons Town and the citizens got together at the town hall to brain storm this curious case of Just Nuisance. They concluded that they dispose him by putting a bullet through his brain. This was when the Navy intervened and offered to adopt Just Nuisance. In fact the name “Just Nuisance” was given later during his adoption ceremony. So the day dawned when the bloke was formally adopted by the Navy .He was christened Just Nuisance and since a surname was necessary he was named Just Nuisance Able Seaman. He was commissioned into the navy. So one day in late the 1930's the South African (then Royal  British) navy became the first sea faring military to commission the first canine into service. Lieutenant Just Nuisance became the first dog to be commissioned into the navy and he became entitled to a fat salary. The salary was used by the navy to pay for his daily first class train journey to Cape Town. Being Lieutenant, Just Nuisance had access to the officers’ bar at the naval barracks. The odd side of his was he had a weakness for alcohol and spirits. With Just Nuisance having nothing much to do apart from his daily train journeys, he spent rest of the time in the bar. Often he was found tipsy. One day he was involved in an accident with a motor car which developed thrombosis. Also his predilection for excessive alcohol found him later with intestinal and liver ailments. Just Nuisance died six years after his commission.

The Navy gave him a touching farewell service and was laid to rest in a specially built tomb up in the mountains where they have a cemetery for naval officers.

A few years ago when the South African Navy celebrated its Golden jubilee dignitaries from the visiting countries motored up the mountain road to the cemetery and paid respect at the grave of Lieutenant Just Nuisance Able Seaman. They laid wreath made out of proteas on his resting place.

‘Every Dog has its day “!!!