Friday, February 4, 2011

Journey back to Nether world



“ What ever desires are difficult to attain among mortals , ask them according to thy wish,-these fair maidens with their chariots and musical instruments- such are indeed not to be obtained by men. Choose sons and grandsons who shall live a hundred years, herds of cattle, elephants, gold, and horses. Choose the wide abode of the earth, and live thyself as many harvests as thou desirest. If you can think of any boon equal to that, choose wealth, and long life. Be (king), Nachiketas, on the wide earth'. I make thee the enjoyer of all desires. But ask not the mystery of death”.

“O Yama, God of Death! All those things that you have offered to grant me are subject to decay, if not today, by tomorrow at least. And all these things are directed at depriving and depreciating man of all his virility and strength of his limbs. Even if you grant me a longer life, that again is of no use (since I am going to die someday). At the end, all the vehicles, music, dance (all those offered by you to me) will again become yours (after death)”. Even the whole life is short. Keep thou thy horses, keep dance and song for thyself”.



There are times that are oft repeated in life, when one feels that life has been very unfair, cruel and inexplicable in churning out the good and the bad. Some are blessed with well being and for others it is litany of woes. And still for some life is a mixed bag. That is fair enough though, certainly!

J, was my class mate during the college years I spent in MarIvanios College Thrpuram, way back in 1977-80. Those were the times when jeans and trousers were not very common with girls. But J seldom wore different attire than a pair of trousers and shirt, or t-shirts. She was the macho among girls. More like a street fighter boy. She kept her hair pruned- I felt that was like Mrs Indira Gandhi. She was laid back in style and had a casual swagger in walk. She cared a damn for conventions and the cocoon girls were supposed to be during those pre MTV times. She was intelligent, full of banter and bold. I still remember her getting pissed off at me and decided not to talk to me. We were at logger heads, but I do not exactly recall the incident that upset her.

I met her yesterday at her house in the suburb of Thrpuram. It was a visit for a poignant occasion. I n fact it was a visit to offer condolences. She had lost her son, a boy of eighteen, to the malevolent fate, just four days ago. I remember seeing him with his family, a year ago in Chennai. I, C and Ara were in Chennai to attend the wedding of the daughter of a class mate of ours. I recall vividly her son eagerly clicking off photographs and he was also keen to take a photo with Ara.

J was devastated, deflated and in disarray. But she did not completely jettison her poise and strong countenance, though inwardly shattered. I sometimes during the course of my sitting by her side yesterday, feared and wondered if there were signs of her losing her balance, her mind, her poise. She did not shed tears, at least not while we were there. She only kept asking to herself, and to me generally, why the boy had to take his life? And, that too in a predetermined way that was immaculately envisioned ,made as violent as possible and as effective, as any plan can be implemented.

J told me that she could never recollect one instance when the boy was upset or angry. And she remembered painfully he was very helpful, caring and friendly, than any child of his age. I got the feeling from her reminiscing him, the uncommon and unusual affection and concern for the family was apparent in the boy. Which was not generally a child’s volition as we can recall from our childhood and also from those of the many children we know.

J’s ill-luck began a few years ago when she had a major stroke. And was in critical state for quite a while. It was out of, I guess sheer will and luck she came back to her professional job of the Bank Manger. Though she must be having a distant handicap after the major physical upheaval. Her convalescence and limp back to normalcy was shattered by a life threatening and almost crippling accident soon after, to her husband. And she had to tender him amidst her own physical distress. That, I guess took a year. Not long after the gentleman was back on his feet, fate put him down yet again. This time it was tipper truck that lost control and fell on his car, almost crushing him. And he was hospitalised with serious multiple fractures and in hopeless condition. However the family survived the ordeal and he is on his feet.

The moment some of us , J’s class mates  heard the tragedy of her son, we wondered why this strain of ill luck was shadowing her!

We parents seem to believe and claim that we know our children inside out. We boast that they are fair and straight with us. No secret gardens and no behind door acts. And we, like J did, do not see anything untoward in the unusual love and care they shower on us. And like J, we will wonder why that little fellow did the unthinkable. To a lay person it is a mystery that defies logic or an explanation.

After sitting with her, the puzzle was slowly unravelling, to me though I kept to myself. The boy seemed to have carried a split personality, and the parents did not notice. Privately, he was in a kind of psychiatric turmoil. And his noting and computer also give ample instances to substantiate the theory. His death note that was found tells that he had to go. He tells that some distant force had sent him to this material world, to be here briefly to love and care for his parents and family. He had asked the “father”(the spirit)  if he could stay till he gave his CA foundation examinations  but his request was declined  by the powers that sent him into the world. So the time was up now and the force that commands him asked him to be back amongst the friendly souls in the nether world. He just cannot stay here any longer and the material trappings are not for him. Kindred souls and friends wait him in the yonder world. The casual manner and the blithe with which the boy took his life were frightening, haunting and painful. He decided that he could not be here beyond Jan 30. And he ensured that his end was brutal and effective, (why brutal, only he could tell). So he could cast off the fetters of death. The modus operandi is graphic to recount.

The bottom line is parents have to be watchful of the young. We do not know the innermost thoughts, and can easily be hoodwinked. If only a tiny opening was noticed somewhere, the boy could have been saved from the abysmal depths he was plummeting into. The internet sites that purvey nonsense of necromancy, black magic, and conjuring the dead were directly influencing his fickle mind.

And the parents will wonder forever, why, why did he do so? What that will not register is that he was carrying a dual personality one for the consumption of his immediate family and the other dark and secret deep in him , and that only he knew.  


Thursday, February 3, 2011

With no Malice



The following lines may be an exercise of no use, a waste of time. It is  not fretting or anger that gave me the idea to write a bit on the subject.

Jealousy and it’s off shoot- malicious gossip, are they the forte of the fairer sex? Or is it a heterogeneous trait that overlaps gender?
I have wondered often! 
Though identifying these qualities to be the exclusivity of women would be inviting libel and also that I do not want to be called a MCP. And certainly I bode no ill to them and some of the best personalities I have known at close quarter has been women. But yet, with no malice to women in particular, I must say that a few instances of severe gossip and innuendo that I have felt have been from women and women only.
The latest one was quite disgusting and that too coming from the lady of the house that we have been close to and frequenting as well. More so, C considered the two children there, like the two of her own. Be it in matters of little gifts of affection, appreciation and encouragement, she was to them like she is to her own children. Well that is the way she is with kids of the few close friends we have.

The woman in question is a church goer and an active parishioner. Follows lent and other religious vows zealously. At least that was what I could notice! Outwardly she is a gem of a hostess, and person. Helpful, and goes the extra yard to make you comfortable. She, even certain times admonished C for not being a practising Christian like she was- god fearing, praying, observing lent and other catholic vows.

Though I and C have not been among riches by the business standards that are around in the industry we were in, we have had a very satisfying life. No vacationing in Las Vegas and Monaco, nor jaunts in the Bahamas or cruises on the QE-2. But we were lucky to have been to quite a few places in different 
continents in the course of my business travels. I even was lucky to possess a wonderful SUV that was indeed  a marvel and the lone indulgence and fantasy I can be accused of. We owned a lovely Spartan place that was in a way was paradise,a dream as well. And most of all we were immensely fortunate to have had the resources to provide respectable and character designing, formative schooling to both our children. That certainly would not have been possible if we were fixed income salaried people. Though it was indeed painful to have missed the kids at home during most part of the years, while they were boarders! The nature of our profession in fact demanded that children were taken care and were not inflicted by the stress and the odd time and nature our work entailed.

It has thankfully reflected in their personalities and character.And I do not foresee any deviation either. Aravind  is twenty and Radhika , almost eighteen. We considered the spending on good education of the children (not the flamboyant vanity filled schooling), a necessary indulgence if one choose to term it as indulgence.

The lady , the subject of this post suddenly woke up to the comfortable way we had our children educated the decent life we lived and began her litany of gossips and comments.And in fact she was in the sidelines talking nonsense and spreading innuendo about another family that was close - their children too. It was a surprise to us to know so, because, she exhibited the countenance of virtue and pleasant feeling to us and all. And she could not certainly with her piety, air ill for another. In fact she was insinuating while she was smiling heartily and 
virtually hugging us.

Was her reaction and shameless comments a feeling of guilt or sadness that she could not part similar schooling to her children? Was she discontent and wanted to be like the Jones next door? She did not have the courage and the will to live without “crutches’? Was it plain jealousy and dislike for the well being of the other, (though she is comparatively very well and  perhaps stress free financially and socially) for her to comment deprecatingly?

Can one be angry, anguished and covetous seeing the well being of the other? Can one resent and spite
another’s success and revel ,when another has hard times?
No ill to women. And I wish to think that this person is an aberration in her sex. Certainly no malice meant to her.


Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Musings




The mobile was silent, and the mails never came
Not yet.
The blogger mates were glum, nothing from them
Not yet.

I wondered for a while, am I missing it.
From friends and strangers -
Wishes for the beauty of the Republic.
Thank gracious mercifully though,
Nothing this time around.
Not yet.

Perhaps they see the aura of the state
ebbing slow but sure.
Perhaps they see the futility.
Of feigning blind when it is glaring and vivid

The poor country is plunging down, down and down hill
Thanks to us, one and all
For whom ‘the self’ matter more.

And the tricolour – a fragment of cloth, colourful though!
To be unfurled at the Lal Chowk, and paint the mother red.
In blood.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Welcome Development !


This article may invite scorn from the votaries of "development”. But yet, sometimes, it is better to be scorned at than be petted.
I was scouring the NET to see if I could get any information on Laurie Baker's report on Sabarimala. But except for synopsis, drafted by various news publishers I could not get a trace. Neither from his official web site. But I stumbled upon something else, and any one who lived ones childhood in Thiruvananthapuram of the sixties and early seventies would feel pained and helpless- an article published in the Indian Express in 1995 and written by Laurie Baker. (The sketch of the Indian Coffee house is nostalgic)..

Click on the link below to read on


Monday, January 24, 2011

"The Yellow Eye"




“Look, you have just time to join Thatha Natesan’s story telling”. Raman’s uncle pointed out.

Raman shifted feet uneasily.”Tonight I am not going,” he answered and added hastily, “I am tired”.

“Aha so?” His uncle’s eyebrows lifted in surprise.”Well then, hurry home, before Yellow Eye – the tiger catches sight of you! “Oh aren’t you afraid of Yellow Eye anymore?”There was teasing in his voice.

“ Munnusawamy the school master says that Yellow Eye does not exist, “Raman answered, and then could have bitten back the words.

“Ah if your schoolmaster says he does not exist, and then all the stories that have been told for so many years must be false, is that it?”

“How can they be true?” Raman pointed out.” No tiger could live for so many years, and with just one eye, too. And besides, only a week ago .......”

One story went, Yellow Eye the tiger roamed, waiting to take revenge upon the hunter who had blinded his eye, or failing that, upon anyone who dared to enter his kingdom.

“So in your school they teach you to scoff years of stories as well as to read and write, his uncle observed, some of the teasing gone from his voice.

“It is not scoffing ", Ramaman said quickly. It is only finding what is true and what is not”.

“Yet not a few days ago there was word of a tiger that carried off a goat from a farm down on the slope”.

“A tiger, yes, but not Yellow Eye. There may be a few tigers in the jungles and they may have when hungry taken a goat. Thatha Natesan says that when he was young there were many tigers around here......”

“ Thatha Natesan also says that Yellow Eye still roams the slopes of the mountains, seeking revenge. One thing you believe, and the other you do not?”His uncle said forcefully.

“They are not the same thing”, Raman insisted. ´Every one knows that there were many animals in the hills long ago. But who can really believe that a tiger, like a man, will go on seeking revenge for an injury done no one knows how many years ago? And besides if all that happened when Thatha Natesan was a young boy, then Yellow Eye would be almost a hundred years old by now. What tiger could [possibly live so long?”

“Your Munnuswamy the schoolmaster has taught you well, I see”, Raman’s uncle observed dryly.” Well, run along now. Yellow Eye or no Yellow Eye, you should hurry home....”

Raman bade him good night and set off down the path. Yellow Eye indeed! Was it possible that his uncle actually believed the legend, the myth of the vengeful tiger? He did not say that he believed, and yet he did not seem pleased that Raman should deny the truth of the story.

Courtesy- Tiger on the mountain

Saturday, January 22, 2011

Growing Up




Signs of never growing up -the little girl is obstinate
Like the primate- proverbial,
Holding tight, clutched palms, closed eyes,
screaming that she can’t be denied.
Try holding her hand, make  her understand,
She rebels like the Wiccan of lore.
“I can never be wrong, and I can never be denied”, she yells.
Pretty face she has, sweet little woman, but ......pride!
Alas, signs of never growing up!


Friday, January 21, 2011

Fear is the key


The present seems to be the times of ‘jyothis”, “ makara jyothis”, and the arguments for and against its truth. Discussions were over ridden by expletives and derisive comments. Things went into the existence and beliefs in the ‘big brother’. People who were honestly anguished at the sufferings fraud and canard foisted in the name of faith, voiced their opinions. But the democracy that we have, where the views of the majority hold sway, the pleadings seem to be trivialised, unheeded.
What causes beliefs and the so called faith? There is only one word  that is the answer, “FEAR”.
I stumbled upon an interesting opinion , on th.e subject by one gentleman, Mike, and I do not know if that is  his given name or pseudonym. But he has a valid point borne out of his experience..
Please read on....



"When I first reconverted, I at first felt at a bit like I was stumbling around in the dark. I'd slowly but surely let go of my old world views and superstitions, but there was no philosophy of how to live to fill that gap.

It wasn't long before my thirst for knowledge led me to the realization that some of the greatest thinkers from antiquity to modernity had been addressing similar issues. I'm finding that even after twenty years of formal schooling I am only just beginning to learn how to learn, how to think, how to live.

The following quote made me think of my posts on salvation and hell.  My train of thought strayed from Russell's words somewhat, but it was inspired by them.

"Fear is the main source of superstition, and one of the main sources of cruelty. To conquer fear is the beginning of wisdom." - Bertrand Russell, British mathematician & philosopher (1872 - 1970)

I used to be afraid of dying, afraid of not living with enough devotion to an entity that I had never seen, heard, felt, or otherwise sensed. There's a very simple reason why preachers who say "god is love" one minute will cry out about how our society is not "god-fearing" the next.

As soon as I took the risk of questioning my beliefs I realized that it was nonsense to fear a god that loved me, such a god would not penalize its people for not believing when it knows exactly what it would take to convince each and everyone of them.

Without the fear it suddenly became possible to see all the other inconsistencies, each and every continuity error, every hypocrisy. At some level I became angry and frustrated at god, at religion, as if it was its fault for the falsehood. But that silly notion came from the framework of the world that I'd been raised with, one deeply rooted in superstitions.

Gods are no more than fictional characters, and religions social constructs of shared mythos and mores. The more autocratic a religion the more control it can have over continuity and consistency. The more liberal a religion the less it will conform to a consistent narrative or ethical principle.

Seeing religion for what it is, culture and folklore, allows one to stop being afraid of life, of oneself, of those who are different, and start to see the best in everything".