Children of a Lesser God?

Bee,

I am digging out my old notes, diaries, etc and trying to and post what can be shared.
Below is a personal experience I had, which moved me so intensely and deeply for a long, long time...

15 May 2007

I experienced one of the defining moments in my life today, when I felt enriched by a bunch of differently abled people, including children .There were thirty five of them bubbling with life in a hall down Kithulwatte Road, Colombo.

I was on a fact-finding mission to understand the workings of the Sunera Foundation, a charity organization aimed to assist the differently abled through the medium of performing arts.

My mind went back to the times when they were referred to as ‘disabled.’ What wrong usage! A better understanding of the situation has given them a more honourable name – ‘differently abled.’ May be our thinking has changed – and that we are beginning to see them as no ‘lesser?’

I spent more time that I had planned, and returned home enriched, humbled and pensive with a tinge of pain deep down, when some of those faces flashed through my mind - I saw untold amount of feelings written in many an eye.

“My younger brother is married, my younger sister is married. I am thirty and have no one..!” said Madhuri, a veteran participant of the Sunera Foundation with her eyes welling up with tears. But the pain was transient. “I have traveled to Norway, Italy, France etc to perform, in fact many times…” Her eyes cheered up. So did mine. There was confidence in her voice, pride in her achievements, and above all, hope in her voice – largely due to the opportunities she had got through Sunera.

Should we be sympathetic? No. They are not instruments of to deserve sympathy or mere generosity of any kind. They have to be treated with equal respect, which we would accord any other normal human being. But they certainly needed special attention and care. They need opportunities and a place in the Sun, which can only be assured by us – the ‘abled us’ with a conscious change in our attitude – I told myself.

The workshop conducted twice a week by Sunera Foundation attracts many people who are differently abled. Boys and girls, men and women – there was no discrimination at all. Many were accompanied by their mothers who stay the whole day until the workshop is over.

The workshop

The progamme was to start at 9.30 and bang it did right on time! Impressive. The participants were taken through a series of games and activities, which also required team spirit, creative thinking and a lot of initiative.

‘Passing the Parcel’ was interesting. Music was played and a parcel was passed on from one person to another. Whoever in custody of the parcel when the music stopped had to perform something as he /she wished. Most of them danced. Some of them performed the ‘break dance’, gracefully and rhythmically, gyrating the lower part of the body with a natural ease! Unmistakable influence of the Bollywood; flawlessly imitated!

The most outstanding performance was displayed by a participant when he ordered the music to be stopped and got on stage; energetic. He stretched his right hand as high as he could and yelled out: “I would like to say, I will reduce the price of dhal, and will repair all broken roads. Just vote for me…” Our political culture is infectious… I laughed my gut out.

Music was an essential part of the workshop. Everything centered on it. Dancing to the tune was fun. Plus it also ensured physical exercise and flexibility to the participants, who would hardly find a way to do it otherwise. Every single participant not just enjoyed, but lived every moment of it.

I strongly resisted my temptation to get on to the floor with them!

What is a stick for?

Ramani Damayanthi, the trainer, who displayed exceptional skills in conducting the workshop showed them a long stick and asked them to come out with their own impressions of it and what they would use it for. Some innovative expressions came out – ‘pot breaking’ game of the Avurudhu, golf, billiards, rowing of the boat, shooting with the gun etc, among many others.

The exceptional aspect to note was that NONE of them used the stick to display the action of beating! I stayed until the game was over, just to learn whether any one would imitate the action of beating! No. They did not! I would think the first thing any normal child would do is to show how he/she can use the stick to beat up, to punish! It was interesting to learn how pleasant their thoughts are in their state of inability- and how we label them as ‘dis-abled’!

I left the workshop when they broke for lunch. It was a rewarding experience to learn that there is immense potential in those we think are inferior. What they lack is an opportunity to be accepted in a society that is yet too ignorant of the needs of a differently abled person.

I witnessed the bountiful expressions of happiness, confidence, acceptance, equality and contentment mirrored on their faces when they broke up for lunch. I was still seated, enthralled, when one participant came up to me and took my empty tea cup mumbling ‘Miss, I will take this to wash…’

While driving back home, my memory went back by 20 years and I remembered Narayanan – a differently abled boy- who went to the 'School for the Deaf and the Dumb', which was just 200 meters away from my school. Our school pick-up vans used to halt at common points and we used to get down from our vehicles and have a chat. He and I shared a common habit - of collecting pictures of Gods. Too many of them of the same size as cards. The numerous squabbles we used to have, and the number of times we used to spill water on each other, and funny faces we made in anger... just flashed across my mind with photographic precision. I just wondered how he was…

Life simply brushes through many of us – or may be we simply brush through life. Cocooned in our own shares of woes and penalties, we tend to pass by…not being able to appreciate and be thankful for the wonderful life force that ticks within us. My experience just reconfirmed this to me; today; and also that they are not children of a lesser god... truly not...

"To be or not to be..." Is That the Question?

After my voice was replaced by laboured puffs of air for 3-4 days continuously due to cough and cold, I started hearing my voice just a couple of days ago. I diligently postponed sitting down to pen many a wanton thought that obliquely passed my mind during the voiceless phase.

Nature had decided to cry her heart out – incessantly; sometimes aggressively, and more silent some other times – but she was crying… heavy down pour; all the time. Ideal to stay put and go under the quilt and fantasize that you are in the bone-freezing cold of the Himalayas, where, in reality, you are facing the out-of-character weather pattern in the tropics. Ahem!

A few days back, I went out to watch a movie with my cousin (more a brother in spirit; children of siblings of the same gender, we say are brothers and sisters and not cousins) and some of his friends. All the tickets for the balcony were sold out; we decided to take a chance and charged in, on the assumption that we will scoot off if the place was too bad. We got the fourth or the fifth row from the massive screen! Was not too bad in comparison to the first 3D film that I went to watch with my brother and sister – My dear Kuttichathan- where we ran faster than convicts on a police chase to catch a bus (which we missed and a auto-bus-walking- combination was tried), and were presented with three tickets in the very first row - some good 25 years back, or more!

I had no idea, what this film was about, or could do to me for several days after, when I settled in the chair, with a packet of popcorn in hand. After a very long time, got to watch a good Malayalam movie – ‘Cocktail,’ which was free from dancing around the trees, or where the actors/actresses changed clothes at the drop of a hat. One set of clothes for all concerned – it was the story of a day. Nice suspense maintained right throughout. The movie, I am told, is based on “The butterfly on the wheel.”

More than the technicalities of the film, which critics may write about, I wish to share my own thoughts…

The movie was a timely release, would have left most viewers with heaps to mull over, contemplate, question, challenge, re-live, correct… and a lot more. I could sense the tension in the air … and for me personally, it gave more than one reason to debate the frequently contested question in own mind – can an extra marital relation be understood? Pardoned?

Relationships, affairs, one-night /time stands – the different names we have for a man-woman rendezvous!

Does putting a ring in a finger or signing a paper necessarily keep marriages sanctified as expected? Is marriage an outdated concept? Is it a sustainable institution? Are human beings essentially monogamous? if they are not, why marry and expect them to stay that way? Aren’t there relationships that reach beyond the realm of marriage? Are all such relationships for carnal desires only? Don’t people fall in love too? When such a relationship becomes one that of sharing, is it wrong? When it gives a reason to hope, inspire, create and sail through tough times, can it be justified? Where does one draw the line?

Am not a moral pundit. Not a Thought Police either. An avid student of life. An observer. Have become that over the years. There are times I feel, there is no right or wrong. But again, there are … aren’t there? Just because something becomes a trend, a habit, it does not become the right thing; it can be an exception than the rule.

But human minds are such that we look for what is not… is that it? People do not get attracted to others not necessarily because they love their partners less? Nevertheless, it is hurtful for the other person concerned if it is known – so should it be kept under wraps to avoid that pain? Then does it become right...?

I personally believe we human beings are hypocrites – only varying in degrees; We wish to conform; at the same time we do not like the idea either. Some dare and take the path less travelled; others live within the circle of norms stipulated by God knows who and had been in place over centuries, lived through the epics, holocaust, the Plague, the recessions and still continues to guide, give some form of direction … So are they not correct?

Life Force drives us forward; this energy can be shared; it brings vital forces together. But does this Force come from the union with one person or more than one?

I have many more questions – not a particular answer for anything. Only thing I know, I believe is that it indeed is very painful for all concerned...

My head spun for several days. It is so much easier to accept the shape of the earth as oblate spheroid and go on with life than go through own mind and others’ to understand the workings of the human mind, actually.

After all, the 4^th or the 5^th row in the Cinema was not too bad. Just that I had to re-position the anatomy to stretch my legs a bit forward and rest the neck firmly on the seat; in quite an awkward position! My brother gave the best tagline (seeing my contemplative face after the movie) that a ‘film is best seen and left in the theatre itself when we walk out.’ Sure, it is one good way of looking at all these 'global issues!'

We settled for some straight- from- the- pan hoppers and curries at a newly opened restaurant, and to my surprise, I was served Sri Lankan tea, Mlesna! Hurrah! Globalisation of tea has reached ‘Flavours’ in Trivandrum too. And we learnt that they have good service apartments, opened recently. Sure, the landscape and the spirit of the city are changing…

After thought: Since I keep talking to the Bee, I wonder whether I should put my title as To Bee or not to Bee! Pun indeed!

Where We Spend to Buy Pollution...

Back again. In god's own country. Spiraled through the staircases without much of a hassle - I mean at the airport. Hassle-free immigration procedures and free from the hawkish porters. Phew! What if the flight was a bit delayed. The rest of it went smoothly.

Two months away did make a difference which I could not but notice. While I left for the Emerald Island exactly two months and two days ago, some of the main roads were being tarred near my home town. What a relief it was to see the roads being widened ! The traffic was congested because of the work, and people willingly and patiently supported the road development.

Guess what! I plied through the same road just two days ago - and believe me, most of it had been washed away and the very same road is full of pits, broken edges, and huge trenches - you name the destruction, you have it there; right where your wheels screech and refuse to move! And it had just been a few months ago that it was done up! ( Ahem! We are Communisit, pro-poor, with high Human Development Index, High Literacy, High Cost of Living, High Everything...and believe me I am not the Devil's advocate - but a very ordinary Indo-Sri Lankan). The roads that looked almost carpeted a few months ago have gone to the dogs ( no insult to dogs meant here, by the way; for all I know they are such endearing animals). Well, whom to say all these? After all, transparency and accountability are ‘western’ concepts, you know.

A heavy bone-shaking journey took me to my home sweet home.

Grrrrrr. It is the temple festival season close by. This is one tradition that we have earnestly kept ever since its inception - that is our fervent love for the loudspeakers. Man! Ever since I could remember, the temple festivals were celebrated with as many loudspeakers as possible, and that too playing Malayalam film songs - old and new( when our religiosity is at its ultimate, we play even the Hindi hot numbers). Had always detested it; and was considered a freak in not being able to relate to 'community living.' Well, even after several years, it still continues to be a pain in the royal 'ass' for me; and what is even more bugging is that the funds for this tamasha are collected from the community itself. How on holy earth can one comprehend that we - the pensioners, doctors, engineers, teachers, bank employees, loiters, waiters, civil society etc etc- spend to buy pollution? And that too, in the name of God or Goddess? A religious pundit, if needed, may even trace the importance of noise, or the indelible mark it has left on the annals of our pre-historic times and the Indian mythology, to justify the blatant use of loudspeakers! And here I am trying to understand why Indians are in blissful love with noise of all sorts, in public places, on the roads, railway stations...

It is a happening place; all the time. 24x7. And the mobile phone has no rest or respite. Every other hour or even less, your phone's memory stomach is filled with garbage - which the modern times call as marketing gimmicks! I counted. Five for half a day - 'Download your favourite songs' 'Enhance your beauty' and mind you, every bloody thing you want to keep away from, you are constantly reminded of. End of story. Full stop! And each time when the phone beeps to indicate a message, you look at it, for a personal message from work, friend or family. But no, don't get it wrong. It is mostly a service provider to tell you about their new ring tone, or the tip to colour your hair!

For the three days and two nights I had been here, have not had electricity for one and half days. One has to understand the vagaries of the monsoon ( see, it is not our problem. Climate change is a new fad, and they say, it is due to over-exploitation of natural resources, and that too by the developed nations (that US mainly, you know) and we are seated, lounging languidly in our developing country status) and presume that many trees have fallen due to heavy rain and 'understand' the situation. Can't complain. It is candle lit dinner all along! After all, what can the government do ( and that too, pro-poor Communist in the State and Congress at the Centre) for regular power failure? Hmmm.

Never a dull moment here. One is made to think constantly. Not at the cost of finding light in the greener pastures, but being forced to contemplate why we cannot get simple things right! And furthermore, how on earth, this country still survives as a nation, with all its complexities and extremities? More on this later.

On the Ranges

Heavy rain, thunder and lightning and had been non-stop for the past 13 hours or so. Roads in Colombo are flooded; which happens invariably during the rainy season.

A few days back, had been to one of the most beautiful places in Sri Lanka, Riverston, which is 180 km away from Colombo, in the Central Province. This place boasts of the famous Knuckles ranges – which is the vast expanse of mountain ranges, as if they stretch to eternity. Foggy at times, clear in the next moment, shades of dark green and grey combine to create images as if the creator had sat with a special paint brush and done a tapestry and marveled every moment of his creation.

Having had the breakfast at a restaurant, by a riverside, where the ambiance and the tasteful architecture, were as appealing as the hot hoppers and the traditional Sri Lankan meal, we proceeded upward. Travelling up the hill country from Colombo is indeed a unique experience albeit the mounting traffic in Kandy - the citadel of culture, arts, history and scenic beauty – all combined. When the business of the city wanes, the quietude of the village sets in; at once.

Matale, a quiet Sri Lankan town, famous for its spices and cool weather is also facing change – roads are being widened in a large way; tractors, JCBs are all at work to connect with the rest of the country. They say, infrastructure development, especially the road network, is the first sign of marching towards development. So be it, for Sri Lanka, I wish, hope…

All of a sudden, you are the only traveler on the road ! Amazing. This is when the climb starts – numerous hair- pin bends always hold the suspense as to what it is to be next… The buzz of the wind – so clear and loud and the cool breeze on your face, and absolute quietude with yourself and the rest of the world as if nothing existed other than these ranges and your wanton thoughts … ! A perfect abandon it was just to stand at the top, watch the sky marrying the ranges, with a silent brook behind you…to feel light, unseen, unheard – stop thinking for a while and just feel... a drop or two of the drizzle on your face… so cold!

Somewhere far away there was a village school – girls in white uniform waved … and they were playing and screaming off in Tamil and had no care in the world while they played! They kept of waving until I went out of sight.

These ranges are mixed with tea gardens; a lonely tea plucker or two on the road, a few villagers who return from the jungles after plucking wild nelli are the only people found on the road to ask for the route. Life in the ranges must be hard for them, though it is a marvel for me. For a moment I wondered how these people manage their day- to- day living, in terms of medicines, schooling and all what it takes to live – day by day. Amazing it was – a few of them did have a mobile phone! Sure, they are connected with the rest of the world for 2 rupees per minute, or free outgoing – incoming call packages of N number of companies, whose lit-up, gigantic billboards provide immense illumination in Colombo in the nights.

There was a lonely restaurant with a perfect view that served lunch – no surprises; they were neither interested in the order placed nor interested in preparing the bill ! But sure, they were innocent villagers who aspire to be more enterprising. They had pure honey (made out of the Palm tree), when poured over curd makes one of the delicious Sri Lankan desserts. I bought a bottle; and was advised to keep it safely lest the bottle might burst (apparently signs of good honey; when bottled tight, bursts…!). Their warmth and hospitality surpassed their lack of business acumen and ‘edge’ that we hear all the time in the Metropolis. It was as if, the clock ticked very slow here…and no one wondered why!

Though a long journey for a day, the fatigue was never felt as it was a welcome change of scene – lots of contemplation, soothing Sufi music on the way, and nice chats with my friend, who took me all the way to show one of the most beautiful places in Sri Lanka…

Standing on top and watching the ranges gave a great sense of freedom. A greater sense of lightness. And a much greater feeling of humbleness.

Could not have spent a day in a better manner.

The Delhi Court Decision

Bee,

I had posted a story earlier ' A hole in the Psyche '- it was based on a story I watched on Kairali TV done it Delhi Correspondent Sunil.

Finally the Delhi court has acted on it. Many congrats to Sunil's efforts! He was happy to share this with me.

"The Delhi High Court today* suggested the city government set up five shelter homes for destitute women to take care of their medical and other requirements.Suggesting a slew of measures for the government to consider, a bench headed by the Chief Justice Dipak Misra said the government should provide mobile medical unit so that people living in slums can be taken to shelter homes."Government of NCT to demarcate five secured shelter homes exclusively meant for destitute women, pregnant and lactating women so that apposite care can be taken and no destitute woman would be compelled to give birth on the footpath," the court said."In the aforesaid shelter homes, food and medical facility shall be available for 24 hours," the court said.The court passed the order in a case which it took up on its own on the basis of media report that a destitute woman died while giving birth to a baby on a footpath at Shankar Market near Connaught Place. The woman was lying in a pool of dirty rainwater on the footpath and she died four days later. The court had on September 1 said hospitals cannot deny treatment to any pregnant woman. "It is the sacrosanct duty of the government to see that children are looked after properly in the hospitals within the guidelines. The hospitals cannot deny any pregnant woman for treatment," the court had said."

*The case was heard on 20th October.

Three cheers to responsible media reporting ! Hurraahhhh!

DoNothing

Do nothing had been the mantra I had been nestling in my mind and trying to emulate for the past ‘n’ number of months. Have had several reasons to support the claim – ‘had been pushing myself for the past couple of years, had too much on my plate, the spinal cord had been playing up, irregular eating habits’ etcetera.

So I decided to Do Nothing.

The first realization dawned on me. Man ! What a lot of oversized baggage I had in my ‘hard drive’ to delete! Unattended, un resolved, unaddressed oversized baggage. Emotional. Financial. Physical. You name it, the baggage was staring at me gleefully. Nodding at me. Requesting me for an early clearance and System Update.

Thus the Do-Nothing-stage became a sole dedication to System and Baggage Clearance. When I flew over the Indian ocean, from the Emarald Island to God’s own country (more God disowned sometimes), I attempted throwing a few baggage, literally, in mind. The ocean that contained so much of every animate and inanimate form of creation could absorb a single, 53 kg weighing, not- so- petite Indo-Sri Lankan’s woes. As much as a 50-minute flight could afford, I hurriedly tossed the priority baggage. Beep. Beep. The system was getting cleared…

God’s own country’s capital city airport treats one with abrupt movements of the vocal cord, of several people at the same time – one trying to ‘out-sound’ the other. To manage the onslaught of passengers rushing into the immigration counter, these acoustics and the resultant alveolars, retroflexes and palatal sounds help, we are told.

Most of the uniform in white I saw there had undergone a minimum three dips of ‘super white’ ( an Indian liquid concoction to make things ‘whiter’ when all you get is a shade of light purple!). After being subjected to the mercy of the immigration officer(s), who would scan you, and is/are generally not so impolite, could question you more, especially if you are in the category of a Non Residing Indian (NRI), Overseas Citizen of India (OCI) or People of Indian Origin (PIO). The expression on their faces could mean anything from sedition to bigotry. You have to read these messages meant for you. And I was thinking – ‘hell to pay – all these too-tired-to-argue-about-anything faces who have queued up with kids and family, mostly from the Arab part of the world, are only bringing in money to the country that was supposed to be God’s favorite. And the treatment? And are OCIs traitors?” I was trying to debate while made to stand at the counter for apparently not having filled the immigration form ‘correctly’ and was on and off asked whether I could read and understand English properly. While I patiently waited and studied people’s faces, I realized the apparent displeasure of the immigration officer may have been towards my Sri Lankan passport! An Indian giving up the citizenship to become a Sri Lankan must be out of her mind- he may have thought – I don’t know. But if only had he communicated that to me, I would express my sentiments towards the Emarald Island and my steady and consistent love, respect and faith towards its earth.

While clearing the checked-in baggage ( I mean on-board and not on mind!), one is constantly followed by ‘helpers’ who volunteer their services of lugging the luggage with a smile that stretches from one ear to the other. I was also greeted by one. Our conversation is given below unedited:

He: “ Madam you are working ‘there’?
Me: Yes
He: So give me about 50 dollars
Me: 50 DOLLARS??? For what?
He: You all get paid well, no?
Me: Aiyo, I am from Sri Lanka; poor
He: Madam, the thing is we were not getting paid last two months. Very difficult!
Me: I see! ( I open my purse; with my father standing next to me just outside the airport)
He: Then give that five hundred rupees. I can see you have a five hundred!
Me: (almost losing it by then) : No, that is for my taxi !!!

I ended up paying 400 rupees and vanished, wondering which Tourism Department under which Ministry came up with the tagline “ Kerala – God’s Own Country,” where fleecing the common man at all levels happen in such a manner, wanton and crude. But our Human Development Index beats any other State. My mind was beginning to take off to a rebel-without-any reason-mode, and I chanted the “Do nothing’ Mantra and started a conversation with my father about the weather in Trivandrum and the humidity (one can talk about this any time while in Kerala. We love the topic).

The Do-Nothing mantra, alternately served with take-a –break slogan was put to test. But the monkey mind would not hear or listen! The system overhaul needed an immediate attention to the failing disc – so off I went to an ayurvedic hospital and put myself through the most rewarding treatment – oil baths, hot packs and 24 hour TV which you can only watch while in bed, also fixed at the ceiling height so that you have to stretch your neck like the giraffe (all part of the treatment, by the way). But phew! I loved it. But God forbid! Those concoctions – man ! why should ayurveda be so bitter !! But like Bran’s essence of Chicken which I used to have and love while still a non-vegetarian, I gulped the ayurvedic concoctions religiously, three times a day, or more, when it was expected! A new lease of life. My doctor said, I can go play the rugger now.

The Do-Nothing mantra flipped with the ayurveda treatment as I was doing ‘something.’ The period of recuperation was supported by The Black Book by Pamuk, whose world of word architecture, I was instantly falling in love with…

But I was not doing Nothing. There was Something. Always. To do. Mind can never rest. In the nights I tried Vipassana. But that was also Something.

All of a sudden, lots of cobwebs were found on the un-plastered walls of my home. My father had made an indigenous, state-of-the –art cobweb breaker, with the longest dry coconut leaf that he could find. There I was, mouth and nose tied with the desi white towel, breaking the cob web and throwing away things (for example, tons of plastic bags, paint brushes that were used five years ago and are still kept in earnest anticipation of 'coming in handy' three years later!) with a vengeance. My mother gets increased palpitations while I am around; and here I was trying to ‘get rooted’ in ‘own home’ after a lapse of 14 years, by kick-starting the rooting process with a broom and a cob web breaker. 'Well, in my absence, this had been some one else’s space. Need to respect this fact, Anila. Well, I am respecting that. But some things can be cleaned up for a greater common good, you see, so that we all live in a neater place.' Two sides of my mind, which can hardly agree on anything was again on a debate, of to be or not to be. (Hamlet was better off in his confusion as Shakespeare never mentioned a cob web).

Wait a minute. Do-Nothing. Take A Break.

Phew! The rainy season was awful,although it is very romantic to sip green tea,seated in the easy-chair in the balcony. But you pay for it from 5-6 pm when you have to chase the exodus of charging mosquitoes like the marching soldiers in the Illiad. Around this time, every day, there were gun-shots from the neighbourhood. And I freaked out (when you live in a country with a terrorist problem, the first sound you hear, by default, you plan an exit strategy!) Amma assured me not to worry; it was the neighbour’s new daughter- in- law on the killing spree, using the ‘mosquito gun’ Man! Gun, it was! A long flat ladle-like thing, when swirled around, attracts the mosquitoes and kills them patash patash like light crackers! I watched her daily operation of Mosquito Kill, unnoticed (reminded of the Panchasheela that Vipassana meditation preaches and the veneration I have for the principles, and how hard I try to adhere by not killing a mosquito even if it is a dengue kind - you see, mosquitoes come with different names these days). But in Kerala, you Kill Mosquitoes. Vipassana is for other States.

I digressed. The rainy season was awful as we had a water logging problem. Here I was trying to get rooted and Do-Nothing at the same time. How to get rooted while having the water logging issue and it seemed as if the rains were to stay the eternity? The absconding contractor was summoned; and he went absconding again and then called again… The rooting process in Kerala was so easy, you see… Those were the weeks of sand, cement, filling tiles. With the newly gained vigour after the ayurveda treatment, I put my heart and soul into the cement. Get this done fast before Onam. Hurrah. I was chasing a deadline. Grrrr. Onam came and went; lots of food; deep fried ‘murukkus’ and very sweet ‘payasam.’

Do-Nothing was put to sleep.

Kerala’s sky spiraling cost of living is everybody’s nightmare. And if you are undertaking maintenance you had it. I was expending energies and monies more than I was mustering for the next onslaught of WhatEver. Tedious job. Done in a circuitous manner. You know what? I wanted a Break. Oops. This was a Break in the Break. Come on Woman , you cannot take a break.
But I did. Am back in the Emerald Island. Staying with a friend who is like Family or more than family. Sharing experiences and having extended discussions on Dr. Brian Weiss and his regression therapy with her. Learning new software programs from my tec-savvy youngest friend – 7-year-and-one-month old Ishan(whose slogan is 'school is where you catch up on sleep!' Man! don't kids have a lesson to teach you every day?) Doing Nothing. Taking a Break. So I thought. And most days I am doing Something. Meeting friends. Discussing projects. Eating sinful food (I love it). The chocolate mousse, the carrot cake, the banana bread, waffles with golden syrup, raspberry syrup (yummmmy), varieties of dry fish, tons, no, grams of watalapan ( a sri lankan sweet dish), gallons of cappuccino, (not to mention the occasional Chilian and Californian Wine sessions) and gorgeously increasing my girth. But, I am loving it.

The Do-Nothing phase, filled with Something or the Other, had one big reward. Of Happiness. Truly. Happiness can dawn on you for no apparent reason. I was quizzed / interviewed for the reasons of my apparent happiness. All the interviewers’ reasons failed. Their rational mind refused my reasons for finding happiness. Well, the answer is, I have no reason. I am on a journey. Of (re) discovery. Enjoying the moments. The fullness and dullness of life. And living it in my marrow. Should there be a better reason to be happy?

Now my next target is to be happier. There I go… The Do-Nothing phase is yet to be…

Retrospection

A month in Sri Lanka now - my adopted home- where I am served a large bowl of mixed, feelings, emotions, thoughts, closeness and distance...Sometimes wonder whether it is a glass menagerie or a kaleidoscope. May be a mix. Or may be neither.

It had just been a break of seven months away from the island, but it seems longer! Catching up with friends, window shopping and just hanging loose. Time off from planning. Time off from contemplation.

Could not ask for more than an extended dinner on the beach, where a calypso band that plays old Hindi and Sinhalese numbers and the roar of the sea combine to give an ambience worth living all night – in the company of friends. Early mornings are when the quiet and the sublime combine, especially if you are on a drive up the hill country… Phew! This island is more than a tear drop – it indeed is a pearl in the ocean!

Very rewarding to feel the absence of old check points in the heart of Colombo… lesser presence of the camouflage. Free movement. Less or no fear. More than a ray of hope among the common people. The real peace dividend of a common man? And for me, more than a reason to hope and continue my faith in this emerald island, which taught me to hope when everything failed; to rise up and smile and face the world when I had hardly anything to hold on to; to find a reason to wake up each morning when the purpose for which I came crumbled like a sand dune washed by the tycoon waves; this island guided me to discover the woman that was half asleep in me…

Nothing more is befitting than these lines by Alfred Lord Tennyson in his Ulysses to express the way I feel at this moment...

“Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will. To strive to seek, to find, and not to yield…”

And as he says…

“ I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees: all times I have enjoyed
Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone...”

My Odyssey in the island began 14 years ago… and it is still unfolding itself...

Shapeless... formless...yet...

As it moved, fluttered
I was trying to fathom
What it was...

A figure-less body?
Fleeting thoughts?
Phantom memories?

It moved towards me...
I watched it closely
I heard it so near

An apparition.
A melody
A hope. A voice.

Shapeless and formless
But a hum. From far.

Colours

Bee,

Woke up to your hum today.
Your magical presence was felt
When I got up to the shining rays...

You had left silent; as usual.

Through my hazy windows
I looked through

And found you
While I was still unravelling your last hum
To me. To my being.

The clarity you were.
The silence you kept
Through my muddled waters.

You have become more colourful.
And made me too.

A Hole in the Psyche

During last week of August, a young woman died giving birth to a baby. In Delhi. Close to the Parliament. In Connaught Place. While Delhi moved with its business as usual attitude, she died after battling to cut the umbilical cord by herself. No one saw her. No one bothered to stop by and reach out.

Kairali TV flashed the shocking news and the ghastly sight first time. Just like a bag of rags, the mother’s corpse lay covered in a red shawl, flies swarming her lifeless body. Who ever watched the news, stopped to think for a minute.

The mother died. But the battle of the new born baby was yet to begin. A single woman, who owns a garment shop close by, came forward to take care of the seemingly healthy baby. But the legalities took the lead where human beings stopped to care. The baby was handed over to an orphanage and the care taker lady became nobody. She stated in an interview ‘she will fight for custody of the child.’

On 29 August, Hindustan Times carried a catchy heading – “She gave birth, died, Delhi walked by” (http://www.hindustantimes.com/She-gave-birth-died-Delhi-walked-by/H1-Article1-593243.aspx), On 4th September, The Hindu carried a column – “The other half: Dying of indifference” (http://www.thehindu.com/opinion/columns/Kalpana_Sharma/article611470.ece).

The local newspapers in Kerala too flashed the news about callous India.

Following the news in the media, the case was discussed in Parliament and the Delhi High Court, shocked by the incident questioned the event and had asked for a report on facilities that could be availed by a poor person in a government hospital in such a circumstance. The story stands there as of now.

In the mean time, the surviving baby contracted a life-threatening disease but was rescued by the timely action by authorities and continues to be in the orphanage.

As the incident points to many poignant developmental and sociological issues of modern India – such as penury, destitution, status of pregnant mothers, changing psyche, growing callousness, etc., it also directs to a fundamental flaw in the system that tends to take corrective measures when the media intervenes or the legislation questions. Should not systems work by themselves?

Now, a different aspect. Let us think. Have we stopped to care or do we fear to care? In many cases, it is the latter. The act of helping an accident victim or any form of victim will have with it a series of attestations, witness statements, court hearings and the works. A genuine intention to help the needy, thus gets penalized. It becomes a hassle. And who wants to regularly appear in court for having helped someone who broke a leg in a hit-and-run case? Obviously no one. It is better to feel sorry and be damned in own conscience and move ahead than be a prey to a grotesque legislation and its potent unreasonableness. So what / whom do we blame? Is it time to flex laws on such singular incidents? Can we set the precedence?

On a different plane, it was to be noted that no social activist group, women’s group or any other rights group came forward to support the woman who rescued the child and wished to foster the baby. This was one case, where such groups could have, should have, shown country-wide support and helped make precedence to show that we still, as a nation, has not lost it altogether… that voice of the people do make a difference and is not totally lost in the wilderness…

Destitution is no new phenomenon for India. Streets, railway stations, and bus stations becoming the abode of the destitute is also nothing new for India. But people dying on the street just like flies, that too, in the capital city of the world’s largest democracy is not common and indeed points to a severe flaw in the system and a blow to our collective conscience. Will this incident make the rule or the exception?

Finally, this begs the question - if the media cease to maintain social vigil, will our conscience fail? Won't systems work by themselves?

Tying the Nose

Bee,

Looks like any season is a rainy season in God's own country ! Rain rain everyday - but come March-April, the Government goes on its power cut schedule. On the dot. With the unscheduled rains come varieties of cold, fever and the works. When home concoctions and grand mother's recipies don't work, one goes to a doctor. The doctor, these days have a long list at his / her disposal- Dengue, Chikungunya, tomato fever, HINI, stomach flu, viral... etc. Even a primary school child nowadays can cite these symptoms and rattle off these names just like he is ordering 'ala carte.' Kerala, so infested with fevers of all kinds for all seasons, still remains God's favourite, we are told.

Cold and cough had been my last week's highlights. Antibiotics dried up the system. Tablets to help one sleep (on my request)presented dreams such as leg-less elephants, fire flies turning into dragons, never-ending, winding roads, plum cakes as big as 200 square feet and lots of gigantic ants ! Man ! truly. Feel as if I had just been out of a torture camp.

Head is slighlty feeling lighter. And efforts to tie the nose that was running are near successful. Beginning to smell the air for a change from the Indo-Sri Lankan balms!

With this let me end the flu bulletin.

Jayawewa! ( by the way, that is Sinhalese)

Jam!

Traffic. It is one of the biggest nightmares of an Indian on the road – be it urban or semi-urban, any time of the day (or night). India’s burgeoning vehicles – two, three and four wheelers - and the poor infrastructure facilities to support this exodus makes travelling on Indian roads a true hell on earth.

The Indian roads are a mixed grill of vehicles and people. Both mingle and make room for each other. Some often get knocked – in most cases they shout at each other and go on with life. Some cases bring forth a crowd which will decide who is right and who is wrong (that happens a lot here!). Least of cases end up in the Police stations. A point to ponder – don’t pedestrians have rights too?

There are many ingredients that spice up the issue. Indians love to take their celebrations on to roads and mind you, there are as many of them as the sands of ocean. They often translate into processions – cultural, religious, educational etc. Needless to speak of the innumerable protest marches that send fits of anger followed by a lavish supply of tear gas and brandishing of the lathi. Plus, roads are closed for VIPs or when a VIP’s family member gets married with no notice what so ever.

Do we have plausible solutions to this growing problem as its related issues such as pollution, flouting of rules and in many a case encroachment, keep piling up?
A few unrealistic options:
1. the population should decrease ( unthinkable)
2. The number of vehicles should reduce ( no, vehicles unlike those days are no more a sign of luxury but more of utility among the Indian middle class)

Now the question points to those at the helm. For them a few options:
1. Improve public transport so that people will use them more? (Do-able?)
2. Invest in infrastructure? Fix fly over(s) where roads cannot be widened and widen roads where they can be? (development assistance from biggies will work here?)
3. Can we switch to eco-friendly vehicles?
4. Toll roads to avoid congestion?
5. Strict law enforcement?

The main challenge is in maintaining quality and accessibility, both. Metros offer a sigh of relief to daily commuters to and from work, but in many cases, reaching the metros from home town still remains a nagging issue.

According to a recent UN study, India has more cellular phones than toilets! Interesting to note our priorities eh? People can defecate anywhere; the homeless on the roads and near- homeless anywhere that is close by! Do we call this skewed priorities or something else?
India has a billion living heads and the roads are just a miniature representation of this mammoth problem. Unless there is a coordinated plan for each city, the Indian roads will continue to suffocate commuters and eat into their time, which they can spend in many happy and productive ways.

It is true that massive infrastructure development will put a country like India in deep peril as it might spark off many a sociological issue such as rehabilitation of businesses, livelihoods, homeless etc due to displacement and the resultant chaos. But it does not stop one from hoping that infrastructure development and investment;and better, accessible transport facilities get due attention in the next round of five year plans which is due in 2012.

Come on, this is a country spending millions on the (corruption-driven) Common Wealth Games – Can the tax payer have the basic facilities as well please?