...lived a mad scientist with a desperate need to be a roving, pot-smoking sanyasi...crazy as this sounds, this is the best need the mad-scientist has ever had...and it probably is the only thing that will make our mad-scientist here truly happy...or maybe not...whichever way it turns out in the end...it will all be okay
You're a part time lover and a full time friend
The monkey on you're back is the latest trend
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
Here is the church and here is the steeple
We sure are cute for two ugly people
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
We both have shiny happy fits of rage
I want more fans, you want more stage
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
You are always trying to keep it real
I'm in love with how you feel
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
I kiss you on the brain in the shadow of a train
I kiss you all starry eyed, my body's swinging from side to side
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
The pebbles forgive me, the trees forgive me
So why can't, you forgive me?
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you ...
- From Juno...a movie I do not approve of, but enjoyed nonetheless :)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nBDbUVXXp-U
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Jai Obama Jai Maharashtra
Here is the thing about this whole Obama victory...the enthusiasm has already died for me! I fear that people believe that electing him will produce a magical cure for all their problems...I hope they believe him when he reminds them that the arduous journey has just begun. As a non-American, I applaud that they finally got the courage to pick an African-American man ( still, not a woman) to lead them. But as a non-American, I also hope he will not overlook the other smaller countries, where he has to play the role of the 'Big Brother'. I hope he puts peace and trust before war and suspicion. I hope he urges the people to not forget yesterday's big story of the violence in Congo DR.. I hope he reminds tomorrow morning that the news channels needn't profile his kids' new dog, his wife's dress tonight, his aunt's immigration status...but asks them to look at those bigger problems that will not disappear overnight.
Mr. Obama ...a whole world looks on to you for change, not just USA.
And since this seems to be the flavor of the season...Jai Maharashtra!!
Mr. Obama ...a whole world looks on to you for change, not just USA.
And since this seems to be the flavor of the season...Jai Maharashtra!!
Monday, August 18, 2008
Story Time!!
For the benefit of the world, I post a very nice story I read recently. It was originally written in Tamil by 'Kalki' R. Krishnamurthy, in 1937. This is a translation by Gowri Ramnarayan (1). It is really beautiful...
The Letter - 'Kalki' R. Krishnamurthy (1937)
Annapurani Devi, the founder-princiapal of the well-known Devi Vidyalaya, was taking her customary evening walk in the big garden around the school. From a bungalow across the road came the strains of the nadaswaram, stirring forgotten memories. The shadow of a momentary disturbance clouded her serene face, like a huge wave that rises above the quite sea to crash upon a rock on the shore, only to recede as swiftly, so that the calmness is restored. The wave's passage left a little water in the hollows of the rock. Tears stood in Annapurani's eyes.
The school's vice-principal Savitri, MA, LT advanced towards her on the garden path. Annapurani Devi wiped her tears and welcomed her with a smile. The women sat down on a cement slab under the neem tree close by.
A perfect description of Annapurani would say that her hair had greyed through long years of service to women's welfare. The thick waves of silver above her forehead recalled white clouds resting in rows upon mountain peaks. Though her hair had turned white, it seemed impossible that she was over fifty. Had she discovered the secret of eternal youth? Silver crowned, tranquil of face and dressed always in pure white, Annapurani seemed to be the goddess saraswati incarnate.
The events of Annapurani's life were well-known. The cruel fate of widowhood was hers at nine, before she reached the age of discretion. But her misfortune became a blessing to other unfortunate women. She went to school, worked to educate herself, and managed to take the BA LT degree. From then on, she devoted her whole life to the service of women who had orphaned , widowed in childhood, or spurned by their spouses.
Her body, soul and material wealth were dedicated to Devi Vidyalaya , established to fulfill those goals.
Vice-principal Savitri was a young unmarried woman of twenty-five. Immediately after passing her MA, LT examinations, she had accepted the job for purely financial considerations. But association with Annapurani Devi had transformed her. She began to wonder if she too should dedicate her life to the service of women.
Sitting down on the cement slab, Savitri said," Amma, I had a real problem today with poetry. When we came to the line "love makes the world go round", Padma asked me what kind of love is the poet talking about? She is a very naughty girl...there!you can hear them laughing"!
In another part of the garden, the girls were playing throwball. Their tinkling laughter wafted in with the gentle south wind.
"How did you answer Padma's question?" Annaourani asked.
" I struggled to find an answer. It is obvious that the poet refers to the love between a man and a woman. But how can I explain that to these girls? It is quite difficult to explain that to these girls? It is quite difficult to explain such matters to young girls. I still remember how flustered my lecturer in Queen Mary's College became when she had to deal with this verse. Here we have young widows and girls thrown out of their homes by their husbands.How can I talk to them about romantic love?"
Savitri halted in mid-speech. Recalling that Annapurani herself had been a child-widow, she was afraid she had been tactless.
She tried to smooth things over by adding hastily " But Amma, honestly, all these things seem to be a kind of madness. Isn't love just an illusion? the useless daydreams of idle poets.....?"
'Illusion, is it? Very well. I shall write and convey your views to Dr Srinivasan.'
Annapurani referred to Savitri's impending marriage to Dr.Srinivasan. Laughing to hide her confusion,Savitri said, "Who knows? At the moment it seems very real. But who can say how things will turn out after a couple of years? Never mind that, Amma. This poet says that all good actions in the world are motivated by love. How can that be right? Let us take the example of our Devi Vidyalaya, which is now twenty-five years old. From Kashmir to Kanyakumari, there is no one who is not full of praise for this institution, and for your selfless service. In this case, how can the poet's statement be true?"
'Savitri! I don't know if the poet's words are applicable to all the good deeds done all over the world. But if you think my labours have been of some significance, the poet's words are absolutely true. Love has been the inspiring source of all my efforts."
'Who can deny that? Your love for the destitue and the downtrodden is well known...'
'I don't mean that kind of love. I mean the kind the poet talks about- the love between a man and a woman. If I have done any service, it sprang entirely from that love...'
'Ayyo! What do you mean, Amma? Tell me all about it!' said Savitri, her voice trembling with excitement.
Annapurani said, 'There! Do you hear the nadaswaram from the wedding ceremony? The piper is playing the ragam Nattaikurinji so mellifluously! Listening to it I was lost in the past, long before I saw you. Tears filled my eyes as they never had before. Many years ago, Sembonnarkoil Ramaswami played the same raga at a wedding. Those days he was the star nadaswaram player...'
'Do you still remember those details? Amma, I heard you were married in very early childhood.'
''I am not talking about my wedding. They got me married when I was six years old. At nine, I became a widow. Those events have not left a trace in my memory. Such early widowhood has its own advantages. Ah, you laugh! But it is true enough. If those events had taken place two or three years later, I would have been scarred for life, as usually happens. Because I was such a little child, they left me untouched.'
Annapurani paused, immersed in her thoughts for a while. Then she continued her story:
'I was referring to my cousin Ambujam's wedding. I was 16 when she got married. She was two years younger than me. Ambujam was deeply attached to me. I lived in my aunt's house from the day I became a widow. Everyone there loved me dearly and pitied me for my misfortune. My word was the law in their household. When Ambujam's marriage was fixed, all the arrangements were made according to my will. It was I who hose the veshti (dhoti) for the bridegroom, the nadaswaram troupe for the function, and decided on the sweets to be served at the feast.
'The night before the wedding, the bridegroom was formally "invited" to the function and the engagement ceremony was performed. I stood in the hall with the women. I noticed that the gem-studded jewel in the bride's plait was about to fall off. I went up to her and fastened it. When I raised my head, I saw that a young man sitting next to the bridegroom had been staring at me. For a moment, my whole body quivered. My head swam. I was afraid I was going to faint. By the grace of God, that didn't happen.
I yearned to see his face again. I had not even dreamed that I could feel such a desire. I tried to control my thoughts. I clenched my teeth, but to no avail. At last, when I did glance in his direction, he had at that very instant turned his face away from me. I did not sleep that night.
'Ambujam's wedding went off very well. Though, I continued to be engaged in my tasks, my mind had begun to wander in a world of its own. Whatever doubts I had were dispelled on the wedding day. His glances were certainly not accidental. they were deliberate. I too became aware of my own state of mind. Some magnetic power drew me to him... There! Do you see the full moon rising in the sky?'
The question made Savitri look up.
'I had seen the full moon many, many times before that day, but I never saw such beauty in it as on Ambujam's wedding day. Nor had I been so entranced by the sweet sounds of the nadaswaram. The fragrance of sandalwood and jasmine had not given me so much pleasure until then. Unknown longings rose in my heart. Why can't I comb my hair and wear flowers as all other girls do? Why can't I use kumkum? Or sandal paste?
'On the third day of the wedding, I took Ambujam to where her in-laws were staying. Plaiting Ambujam's hair, the sister-in-law asked the "crucial" questions about the number of jewels the bride had, and how many more were to be made for her! My mind was not on any of this. Snatches of the conversation from the neighbouring room came to my years. I listened attentively. The voice which spoke seemed to be "his". How pleasant it was! How appealing! He was talking about the plight of child-widows. He quoted from many savants who had condemned such brutal customs. He referred to several books by name. I remember his saying " read Madhavayya's tale of Muthuminakshi!" At that point one of the others declared, "My dear bot, your eloquence is most convincing. Why don't you yourself marry Annapurani?"
"Idiots! Fools! All of you! Might as well bang my head against a stone wall than to talk to you!" I then heard someone get up and leave the room. It must have been "him".
'In those two or three days I gathered all the information I could about him from conversations of his family members. He stood first in the BA examination at Madras Presidency. He was much sought-after in marriage, with people ready to offer even 5000 bucks in dowry. Had I really become the object of such a person's affection? I could not believe my good fortune.
'The bridegroom's mother became unwell on the fourth day of the wedding. To enquire after her, I walked up to the place where the bridegroom's party was lodged. I kept hoping to find "him" there by some chance. I had barely crossed the threshold when I saw him pacing up and down the hall alone. He came towards me and asked "Whom do you want?"As i stood rooted to the spot, too stunned to reply, he swiftly placed a letter in my hand, and folded my fingers over it so that it would remain unseen. Then he turned and slowly walked away.
' I began to shake like a leaf in a storm. And yet I picked up enough courage to place the letter, very carefully, next to my heart. Then I went in.
'I was hardly myself when I spoke to the bridegroom's mother. She looked long and hard at me. "You came here to enquire about my health, but what's wrong with you? You look sick." I said I had a headache and returned home.
I went straight to my room at the back and lay down on the mat. Pleading ill health, I stayed there sobbing my heart out in the dark. After that I never saw him- never saw him who looked like a god and took my heart away...'
'Ayyo! Why amma? Whatever did he write in the letter?"
'In the letter he poured out his love for me. He was ready to make any sacrifice for me, to meet every opposition from the world. But he did not want to force me in any way. If I loved him, and had the courage to face the world's derision, I was to hold a jasmine flower in my hand either during the nalangu ceremony that evening, or at the marriage procession later. Once I gave him the sign he would make all the necessary arrangements....'
'Then why did you lie there crying your heart out amma? didn't you do as he said?'
' No I didn't. Moreover since I had hidden myself away, he must have concluded that I did not acre for him, that he wounded my feelings. and the four days' dream of my life came to an end...'
'But amma, why didnt you follow his instructions? I don't understand.'
'savitri, even today I am ashamed to tell you the reason. i did not read the letter that day. I read it only after a whole year had passed. BUt during that time I held it many times in my hand and wept over it. So that, finally, when I did read it, more than half of it had been wiped out by my tears.'
'Amma. What are you saying? At that time didn't you...
'yes, savitri! It was the shame and grief I felt on the day he gave me the letter that impelled me to study further to get the BA, LT degree , and to render whatever service I could to womankind. On the day he touched my hand and put the letter into it, I did not know how to read!'
The tears which rolled down from savitri's eyes shone like pearls in the moonlight.
Was the piper merely playing the ragam Kedaragowlai? Or was he pouring out all the sorrows of the world's great epics through his pipe?
xxxx THE END xxxx
Bibliography
1) Kalki- Selected Stories. Ramnarayan Gowri. New Delhi: Penguin Books India (1999)
Also watch this video, after or before or while reading the story.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I5sEZjsNazg
The Letter - 'Kalki' R. Krishnamurthy (1937)
Annapurani Devi, the founder-princiapal of the well-known Devi Vidyalaya, was taking her customary evening walk in the big garden around the school. From a bungalow across the road came the strains of the nadaswaram, stirring forgotten memories. The shadow of a momentary disturbance clouded her serene face, like a huge wave that rises above the quite sea to crash upon a rock on the shore, only to recede as swiftly, so that the calmness is restored. The wave's passage left a little water in the hollows of the rock. Tears stood in Annapurani's eyes.
The school's vice-principal Savitri, MA, LT advanced towards her on the garden path. Annapurani Devi wiped her tears and welcomed her with a smile. The women sat down on a cement slab under the neem tree close by.
A perfect description of Annapurani would say that her hair had greyed through long years of service to women's welfare. The thick waves of silver above her forehead recalled white clouds resting in rows upon mountain peaks. Though her hair had turned white, it seemed impossible that she was over fifty. Had she discovered the secret of eternal youth? Silver crowned, tranquil of face and dressed always in pure white, Annapurani seemed to be the goddess saraswati incarnate.
The events of Annapurani's life were well-known. The cruel fate of widowhood was hers at nine, before she reached the age of discretion. But her misfortune became a blessing to other unfortunate women. She went to school, worked to educate herself, and managed to take the BA LT degree. From then on, she devoted her whole life to the service of women who had orphaned , widowed in childhood, or spurned by their spouses.
Her body, soul and material wealth were dedicated to Devi Vidyalaya , established to fulfill those goals.
Vice-principal Savitri was a young unmarried woman of twenty-five. Immediately after passing her MA, LT examinations, she had accepted the job for purely financial considerations. But association with Annapurani Devi had transformed her. She began to wonder if she too should dedicate her life to the service of women.
Sitting down on the cement slab, Savitri said," Amma, I had a real problem today with poetry. When we came to the line "love makes the world go round", Padma asked me what kind of love is the poet talking about? She is a very naughty girl...there!you can hear them laughing"!
In another part of the garden, the girls were playing throwball. Their tinkling laughter wafted in with the gentle south wind.
"How did you answer Padma's question?" Annaourani asked.
" I struggled to find an answer. It is obvious that the poet refers to the love between a man and a woman. But how can I explain that to these girls? It is quite difficult to explain that to these girls? It is quite difficult to explain such matters to young girls. I still remember how flustered my lecturer in Queen Mary's College became when she had to deal with this verse. Here we have young widows and girls thrown out of their homes by their husbands.How can I talk to them about romantic love?"
Savitri halted in mid-speech. Recalling that Annapurani herself had been a child-widow, she was afraid she had been tactless.
She tried to smooth things over by adding hastily " But Amma, honestly, all these things seem to be a kind of madness. Isn't love just an illusion? the useless daydreams of idle poets.....?"
'Illusion, is it? Very well. I shall write and convey your views to Dr Srinivasan.'
Annapurani referred to Savitri's impending marriage to Dr.Srinivasan. Laughing to hide her confusion,Savitri said, "Who knows? At the moment it seems very real. But who can say how things will turn out after a couple of years? Never mind that, Amma. This poet says that all good actions in the world are motivated by love. How can that be right? Let us take the example of our Devi Vidyalaya, which is now twenty-five years old. From Kashmir to Kanyakumari, there is no one who is not full of praise for this institution, and for your selfless service. In this case, how can the poet's statement be true?"
'Savitri! I don't know if the poet's words are applicable to all the good deeds done all over the world. But if you think my labours have been of some significance, the poet's words are absolutely true. Love has been the inspiring source of all my efforts."
'Who can deny that? Your love for the destitue and the downtrodden is well known...'
'I don't mean that kind of love. I mean the kind the poet talks about- the love between a man and a woman. If I have done any service, it sprang entirely from that love...'
'Ayyo! What do you mean, Amma? Tell me all about it!' said Savitri, her voice trembling with excitement.
Annapurani said, 'There! Do you hear the nadaswaram from the wedding ceremony? The piper is playing the ragam Nattaikurinji so mellifluously! Listening to it I was lost in the past, long before I saw you. Tears filled my eyes as they never had before. Many years ago, Sembonnarkoil Ramaswami played the same raga at a wedding. Those days he was the star nadaswaram player...'
'Do you still remember those details? Amma, I heard you were married in very early childhood.'
''I am not talking about my wedding. They got me married when I was six years old. At nine, I became a widow. Those events have not left a trace in my memory. Such early widowhood has its own advantages. Ah, you laugh! But it is true enough. If those events had taken place two or three years later, I would have been scarred for life, as usually happens. Because I was such a little child, they left me untouched.'
Annapurani paused, immersed in her thoughts for a while. Then she continued her story:
'I was referring to my cousin Ambujam's wedding. I was 16 when she got married. She was two years younger than me. Ambujam was deeply attached to me. I lived in my aunt's house from the day I became a widow. Everyone there loved me dearly and pitied me for my misfortune. My word was the law in their household. When Ambujam's marriage was fixed, all the arrangements were made according to my will. It was I who hose the veshti (dhoti) for the bridegroom, the nadaswaram troupe for the function, and decided on the sweets to be served at the feast.
'The night before the wedding, the bridegroom was formally "invited" to the function and the engagement ceremony was performed. I stood in the hall with the women. I noticed that the gem-studded jewel in the bride's plait was about to fall off. I went up to her and fastened it. When I raised my head, I saw that a young man sitting next to the bridegroom had been staring at me. For a moment, my whole body quivered. My head swam. I was afraid I was going to faint. By the grace of God, that didn't happen.
I yearned to see his face again. I had not even dreamed that I could feel such a desire. I tried to control my thoughts. I clenched my teeth, but to no avail. At last, when I did glance in his direction, he had at that very instant turned his face away from me. I did not sleep that night.
'Ambujam's wedding went off very well. Though, I continued to be engaged in my tasks, my mind had begun to wander in a world of its own. Whatever doubts I had were dispelled on the wedding day. His glances were certainly not accidental. they were deliberate. I too became aware of my own state of mind. Some magnetic power drew me to him... There! Do you see the full moon rising in the sky?'
The question made Savitri look up.
'I had seen the full moon many, many times before that day, but I never saw such beauty in it as on Ambujam's wedding day. Nor had I been so entranced by the sweet sounds of the nadaswaram. The fragrance of sandalwood and jasmine had not given me so much pleasure until then. Unknown longings rose in my heart. Why can't I comb my hair and wear flowers as all other girls do? Why can't I use kumkum? Or sandal paste?
'On the third day of the wedding, I took Ambujam to where her in-laws were staying. Plaiting Ambujam's hair, the sister-in-law asked the "crucial" questions about the number of jewels the bride had, and how many more were to be made for her! My mind was not on any of this. Snatches of the conversation from the neighbouring room came to my years. I listened attentively. The voice which spoke seemed to be "his". How pleasant it was! How appealing! He was talking about the plight of child-widows. He quoted from many savants who had condemned such brutal customs. He referred to several books by name. I remember his saying " read Madhavayya's tale of Muthuminakshi!" At that point one of the others declared, "My dear bot, your eloquence is most convincing. Why don't you yourself marry Annapurani?"
"Idiots! Fools! All of you! Might as well bang my head against a stone wall than to talk to you!" I then heard someone get up and leave the room. It must have been "him".
'In those two or three days I gathered all the information I could about him from conversations of his family members. He stood first in the BA examination at Madras Presidency. He was much sought-after in marriage, with people ready to offer even 5000 bucks in dowry. Had I really become the object of such a person's affection? I could not believe my good fortune.
'The bridegroom's mother became unwell on the fourth day of the wedding. To enquire after her, I walked up to the place where the bridegroom's party was lodged. I kept hoping to find "him" there by some chance. I had barely crossed the threshold when I saw him pacing up and down the hall alone. He came towards me and asked "Whom do you want?"As i stood rooted to the spot, too stunned to reply, he swiftly placed a letter in my hand, and folded my fingers over it so that it would remain unseen. Then he turned and slowly walked away.
' I began to shake like a leaf in a storm. And yet I picked up enough courage to place the letter, very carefully, next to my heart. Then I went in.
'I was hardly myself when I spoke to the bridegroom's mother. She looked long and hard at me. "You came here to enquire about my health, but what's wrong with you? You look sick." I said I had a headache and returned home.
I went straight to my room at the back and lay down on the mat. Pleading ill health, I stayed there sobbing my heart out in the dark. After that I never saw him- never saw him who looked like a god and took my heart away...'
'Ayyo! Why amma? Whatever did he write in the letter?"
'In the letter he poured out his love for me. He was ready to make any sacrifice for me, to meet every opposition from the world. But he did not want to force me in any way. If I loved him, and had the courage to face the world's derision, I was to hold a jasmine flower in my hand either during the nalangu ceremony that evening, or at the marriage procession later. Once I gave him the sign he would make all the necessary arrangements....'
'Then why did you lie there crying your heart out amma? didn't you do as he said?'
' No I didn't. Moreover since I had hidden myself away, he must have concluded that I did not acre for him, that he wounded my feelings. and the four days' dream of my life came to an end...'
'But amma, why didnt you follow his instructions? I don't understand.'
'savitri, even today I am ashamed to tell you the reason. i did not read the letter that day. I read it only after a whole year had passed. BUt during that time I held it many times in my hand and wept over it. So that, finally, when I did read it, more than half of it had been wiped out by my tears.'
'Amma. What are you saying? At that time didn't you...
'yes, savitri! It was the shame and grief I felt on the day he gave me the letter that impelled me to study further to get the BA, LT degree , and to render whatever service I could to womankind. On the day he touched my hand and put the letter into it, I did not know how to read!'
The tears which rolled down from savitri's eyes shone like pearls in the moonlight.
Was the piper merely playing the ragam Kedaragowlai? Or was he pouring out all the sorrows of the world's great epics through his pipe?
xxxx THE END xxxx
Bibliography
1) Kalki- Selected Stories. Ramnarayan Gowri. New Delhi: Penguin Books India (1999)
Also watch this video, after or before or while reading the story.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I5sEZjsNazg
Sunday, July 27, 2008
When I Suspected
There will be a time when it will end.
Be it parting
Be it death
So each passing minute with you pendulummed with sadness.
So many times I looked long into your face,
I could hear the clock ticking.
- Spike Milligan
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Of VIT.C AND A PAINFUL LIFE....
Suicide is painless...the song tells you so...M*A*S*H it all up...if you know what I mean...
Through early morning fog I see
visions of the things to be
the pains that are withheld for me
I realize and I can see...
That suicide is painless
It brings on many changes
and I can take or leave it if I please.
I try to find a way to make
all our little joys relate
without that ever-present hate
but now I know that it's too late, and...
Suicide is painless
It brings on many changes
and I can take or leave it if I please.
The game of life is hard to play
I'm gonna lose it anyway
The losing card I'll someday lay
so this is all I have to say.
Suicide is painless
It brings on many changes
and I can take or leave it if I please.
The only way to win is cheat
And lay it down before I'm beat
and to another give my seat
for that's the only painless feat.
The sword of time will pierce our skins
It doesn't hurt when it begins
But as it works its way on in
The pain grows stronger...watch it grin, but...
Suicide is painless
It brings on many changes
and I can take or leave it if I please.
A brave man once requested me
to answer questions that are key
is it to be or not to be
and I replied 'oh why ask me?'
'Cause suicide is painless
it brings on many changes
and I can take or leave it if I please.
...and you can do the same thing if you please.
- Mike Altman
Through early morning fog I see
visions of the things to be
the pains that are withheld for me
I realize and I can see...
That suicide is painless
It brings on many changes
and I can take or leave it if I please.
I try to find a way to make
all our little joys relate
without that ever-present hate
but now I know that it's too late, and...
Suicide is painless
It brings on many changes
and I can take or leave it if I please.
The game of life is hard to play
I'm gonna lose it anyway
The losing card I'll someday lay
so this is all I have to say.
Suicide is painless
It brings on many changes
and I can take or leave it if I please.
The only way to win is cheat
And lay it down before I'm beat
and to another give my seat
for that's the only painless feat.
The sword of time will pierce our skins
It doesn't hurt when it begins
But as it works its way on in
The pain grows stronger...watch it grin, but...
Suicide is painless
It brings on many changes
and I can take or leave it if I please.
A brave man once requested me
to answer questions that are key
is it to be or not to be
and I replied 'oh why ask me?'
'Cause suicide is painless
it brings on many changes
and I can take or leave it if I please.
...and you can do the same thing if you please.
- Mike Altman
Friday, June 27, 2008
KHOON CHALA
I worked as a health reporter with a prestigious news channel in India for a while. Lets call the channel X TV. Health was an accidental choice for me...actually since I was 16 I have accidentally gotten involved in various Health projects. In college I once did a study on the space given to health issues in three English National Dailies, considered by most to be a drab project, and I will not lie, that included me. How could it possibly match up to more exciting and colorful projects on advertising, TV shows etc etc.
I did this daily sponsored segment on health. The operative word here is sponsored, so irrespective of what the authorities at the channel thought of my stories, they had to be aired, unless they preferred losing money. So, I the idealist fresher, just out of college did stories that I thought had to be told. One of the first diseases that I encountered, was Japanese Encephalitis. I was about a week old in the organization, so I put together reports sent by journos in North-Eastern part of Uttar Pradesh. Day after day after I saw images of dead children. How many children died?? The exact figures are debatable, but they were in thousands. And the disease was a recurrent one, showing its ugly face every alternate year. Also a disease that had been curbed successfully in other parts of the country and South East Asia, where it occurred. What was then stopping the government here? One of the easiest solutions was distributing medicated bed nets since people get JE when they are bitten by rice field breeding mosquitoes infected with the JE virus. Or by segregating pigs from the families that owned them, because the JE virus amplifies in the blood of domestic pigs. The story remained in the news for a while, as it took a political turn, with the ruling party's commander-in-chief paying a visit to the affected areas...and slowly it died down. But this was just the beginning of my learning. Soon every day was a new disease, a new virus, a new bacteria and just understanding the medical terms took so much of my energy that I didn't have anytime to feel outraged, sad..nothing. One day the wife of the owner of the channel called me into her office and said " how old are you my child?". She was a grandmotherly, kind looking lady. I said I as xx years old. She asked me why my stories featured so many dead, dying children? " Why not do more on medical breakthroughs? Latest medical fads etc". I thought about it, I thought if my reasons would satisfy her. I said there were more children dying, than there were medical breakthroughs. That medical breakthroughs are not easy to achieve and that there are some billion testing stages that have to be passed before a breakthrough is announced by the researchers themselves. That the diseases that kill these kids are easily preventable. That our health infrastructure needs to be revamped and that requires more monetary efforts. But more than that, it requires a will on all our parts. And that each of us should do what our skills allow us, and my skill is telling a story.
To a great extent, I lacked and probably still lack the ability to explain why health is a much ignored subject in the Indian Media and the Indian government. The government spends around 1% of its GDP on health, which though a very small percent, it is a huge amount, which if used properly and honestly, can do much more than it is right now.
Does all this sound like ideal talk? perhaps it does. I know lot of doctors who leave India for greener pastures abroad. Our medicos our not treated very well, earning a lot less than many other professionals.I also know many journalists who leave India for greener pastures. I am one of them. I am a hypocrite to a great extent. I ran away from the problems that I could not solve. I believe that I will go back, I know that I belong there. But till I do that, I remain a hypocrite.
One editorial column recently questioned where is India's Obama? I believe India can't have one Obama, that each one of us is an Obama. Each Manjunath or Malleshwari or Rajendra Singh is an Obama. That every filmmaker who can make a film like Swades or Rang De Basanti ( at the risk of being cheesy) is an Obama. Everyone who tries is an Obama, because we as a nation never gave credit to politicians for our success. Because we are a very young nation. Because we have forgotten to be more optimistic, because we are scared to believe that changes can be good. They believed in 1857, 1942 and 1947.
I believe now...so should you.
I did this daily sponsored segment on health. The operative word here is sponsored, so irrespective of what the authorities at the channel thought of my stories, they had to be aired, unless they preferred losing money. So, I the idealist fresher, just out of college did stories that I thought had to be told. One of the first diseases that I encountered, was Japanese Encephalitis. I was about a week old in the organization, so I put together reports sent by journos in North-Eastern part of Uttar Pradesh. Day after day after I saw images of dead children. How many children died?? The exact figures are debatable, but they were in thousands. And the disease was a recurrent one, showing its ugly face every alternate year. Also a disease that had been curbed successfully in other parts of the country and South East Asia, where it occurred. What was then stopping the government here? One of the easiest solutions was distributing medicated bed nets since people get JE when they are bitten by rice field breeding mosquitoes infected with the JE virus. Or by segregating pigs from the families that owned them, because the JE virus amplifies in the blood of domestic pigs. The story remained in the news for a while, as it took a political turn, with the ruling party's commander-in-chief paying a visit to the affected areas...and slowly it died down. But this was just the beginning of my learning. Soon every day was a new disease, a new virus, a new bacteria and just understanding the medical terms took so much of my energy that I didn't have anytime to feel outraged, sad..nothing. One day the wife of the owner of the channel called me into her office and said " how old are you my child?". She was a grandmotherly, kind looking lady. I said I as xx years old. She asked me why my stories featured so many dead, dying children? " Why not do more on medical breakthroughs? Latest medical fads etc". I thought about it, I thought if my reasons would satisfy her. I said there were more children dying, than there were medical breakthroughs. That medical breakthroughs are not easy to achieve and that there are some billion testing stages that have to be passed before a breakthrough is announced by the researchers themselves. That the diseases that kill these kids are easily preventable. That our health infrastructure needs to be revamped and that requires more monetary efforts. But more than that, it requires a will on all our parts. And that each of us should do what our skills allow us, and my skill is telling a story.
To a great extent, I lacked and probably still lack the ability to explain why health is a much ignored subject in the Indian Media and the Indian government. The government spends around 1% of its GDP on health, which though a very small percent, it is a huge amount, which if used properly and honestly, can do much more than it is right now.
Does all this sound like ideal talk? perhaps it does. I know lot of doctors who leave India for greener pastures abroad. Our medicos our not treated very well, earning a lot less than many other professionals.I also know many journalists who leave India for greener pastures. I am one of them. I am a hypocrite to a great extent. I ran away from the problems that I could not solve. I believe that I will go back, I know that I belong there. But till I do that, I remain a hypocrite.
One editorial column recently questioned where is India's Obama? I believe India can't have one Obama, that each one of us is an Obama. Each Manjunath or Malleshwari or Rajendra Singh is an Obama. That every filmmaker who can make a film like Swades or Rang De Basanti ( at the risk of being cheesy) is an Obama. Everyone who tries is an Obama, because we as a nation never gave credit to politicians for our success. Because we are a very young nation. Because we have forgotten to be more optimistic, because we are scared to believe that changes can be good. They believed in 1857, 1942 and 1947.
I believe now...so should you.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
BUUUURRRUUUMMMMMMM
My way of explaining recession, unemployment, rice shortage and the general state of madness prevailing on this planet!!
New York City is a beautiful place. In summers you can escape the searing heat by taking refuge in its many parks...more than 1700, says the city government web-site. Well so it happened that when I finally understood the gravity of recession , one sunny bright NY afternoon, I happened to be sitting under a tree , in a park close to school...and was very intently following a squirrel...when suddenly the squirrel turned around started talking to about rising prices... more specifically rising food
prices. It should be noted that rising food prices can be of great interest to a poor graduate student -10 pounds basmati rice cost 23 bucks. Anyway, so the squirrel asked me how I felt about rising pricing and thus began a conversation about how the cost of rice and nuts was just ...well nuts!!
After a while, the squirrel told me that it needed a buck more to buy the required amount of nuts needed to feed his family ( we need to establish the gender of the squirrel here, it is pivotal to rest of the story) and asked if I could give him that one buck. Now I am a very reasonable and poor person and so I told the squirrel - "Listen pal...you are not handicapped, why don't you learn some skills that will aid you in earning the money required to feed your family?" Mr. Squirrel then divulged that he was actually a trained singer and dancer ... and used to do this whole routine in a squirrel club called "NUT CLUB"...the gig included a strip routine and the squirrel was a big hit with the ladies...but then recession hit and the club owner had to cut down on spending and started sacking squirrels left right and center and our little squirrel here also got the red envelope. To add to his woes his wife left him and their kids and went off with another stripper squirrel who had not been sacked. So here I was on a bright and sunny New York afternoon feeling really sad for the squirrel but still did not want to encourage begging. So I said to the squirrel " why don't you do your song and dance routine for me , minus the stripping, and if at the end of your performance i feel entertained enough, I will give you not one but ten dollars". So the unfortunate squirrel, his life stripped naked by the cruelty of the capitalist society, sang and danced for the sake of his kids...and he sang "burrrruuummm, burruuuummmm, buurrruum, burrumm, burruuuuumm."
Footnote: Thank you S for encouraging me to write this on my blog and thank you V for reminding me it's called a footnote.
New York City is a beautiful place. In summers you can escape the searing heat by taking refuge in its many parks...more than 1700, says the city government web-site. Well so it happened that when I finally understood the gravity of recession , one sunny bright NY afternoon, I happened to be sitting under a tree , in a park close to school...and was very intently following a squirrel...when suddenly the squirrel turned around started talking to about rising prices... more specifically rising food
prices. It should be noted that rising food prices can be of great interest to a poor graduate student -10 pounds basmati rice cost 23 bucks. Anyway, so the squirrel asked me how I felt about rising pricing and thus began a conversation about how the cost of rice and nuts was just ...well nuts!!
After a while, the squirrel told me that it needed a buck more to buy the required amount of nuts needed to feed his family ( we need to establish the gender of the squirrel here, it is pivotal to rest of the story) and asked if I could give him that one buck. Now I am a very reasonable and poor person and so I told the squirrel - "Listen pal...you are not handicapped, why don't you learn some skills that will aid you in earning the money required to feed your family?" Mr. Squirrel then divulged that he was actually a trained singer and dancer ... and used to do this whole routine in a squirrel club called "NUT CLUB"...the gig included a strip routine and the squirrel was a big hit with the ladies...but then recession hit and the club owner had to cut down on spending and started sacking squirrels left right and center and our little squirrel here also got the red envelope. To add to his woes his wife left him and their kids and went off with another stripper squirrel who had not been sacked. So here I was on a bright and sunny New York afternoon feeling really sad for the squirrel but still did not want to encourage begging. So I said to the squirrel " why don't you do your song and dance routine for me , minus the stripping, and if at the end of your performance i feel entertained enough, I will give you not one but ten dollars". So the unfortunate squirrel, his life stripped naked by the cruelty of the capitalist society, sang and danced for the sake of his kids...and he sang "burrrruuummm, burruuuummmm, buurrruum, burrumm, burruuuuumm."
Footnote: Thank you S for encouraging me to write this on my blog and thank you V for reminding me it's called a footnote.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
The End of an era
So it happened at about 1 pm yesterday...my belief that I had inherited my mom's hair genes was laid to rest...I discovered something that I never thought I would have to face at such a tender age...and just like that...it ended...my life as I knew it ended...I saw the one thing I didn't want to...staring at my face...mocking me...I pinched myself , this could not be happening to me...I checked in a different light, maybe it was just a reflection...but no there it was standing out from the rest...that one strand of grey hair...my youth just ended!!
911?? perhaps not...India? Yup... Now when you are staying away from your parents for the first time ever...and happen to be an only child, apple of their eyes etc...the one thing you do not do is call your parents at 11:30 in the night and yell emergency!!! Any kid who is old enough to form a coherent sentence will tell you that...anyway, the following is the transcript of the conversation that ensued...
D: hello
Me : ...give the phone to M
D: why?
Me: emergency
D: whaa....what happened..what did you do?
Me: why does it always have to be something I did that has to be the cause of an emergency...and a potentially tragic one at that...
D: because you are a staunch disbeliever of anything good and wise...
Me: M please?
D: why cant you tell me first?
Me: (pause...) because you will never understand...sob
( I should mention here...that D...for some unknown mysterious reason only colors his mustache...)
D: wait
M: what happened?
Me: grey hair
M : (pause...deep breathe..) how many
Me: 1
M: we should be able to handle that...but it has to be stopped from spreading
Me: should I color it?
M: Dye you mean?
D (in the background) : die? who died?
M: dye not die...
D : die not die?
M: D.Y.E...dye
D: ohh...hmm
M: I've told you a million times to oil your hair regularly ...now who will marry you after this...
Me: yadda yadda yadda ... you are not helping much...anyway I'll color it
M: I will die if you dye it
Me: how do you come up with such illogical non-threatening threats? goodbye...maybe I'll color it pink...though green is my new pink...
M breaks into her favorite song of how her daughter's sole aim in life is to disregard everything she says...I hang up..
There comes a time in every person's life when you realize your parents and you kind of share the same social sphere of adulthood...its that moment of truth when you understand that your parents have just about as many answers, as you, to the world's many problems....and you like them just learn to shut up and deal with it...
Later that day I told V about the day's discovery...he told me he had grey hair since he was like 10 years old...that he considers it a sign of his maturity and I a genetic disease that retards his mental capacity is a topic for another blog post...
I wish there was a moral to the story...like there was always one in Doogie Howser or Wonder years...maybe I am a bit too old to have moral endings to my stories...maybe even endings...because it really never ends does it?
911?? perhaps not...India? Yup... Now when you are staying away from your parents for the first time ever...and happen to be an only child, apple of their eyes etc...the one thing you do not do is call your parents at 11:30 in the night and yell emergency!!! Any kid who is old enough to form a coherent sentence will tell you that...anyway, the following is the transcript of the conversation that ensued...
D: hello
Me : ...give the phone to M
D: why?
Me: emergency
D: whaa....what happened..what did you do?
Me: why does it always have to be something I did that has to be the cause of an emergency...and a potentially tragic one at that...
D: because you are a staunch disbeliever of anything good and wise...
Me: M please?
D: why cant you tell me first?
Me: (pause...) because you will never understand...sob
( I should mention here...that D...for some unknown mysterious reason only colors his mustache...)
D: wait
M: what happened?
Me: grey hair
M : (pause...deep breathe..) how many
Me: 1
M: we should be able to handle that...but it has to be stopped from spreading
Me: should I color it?
M: Dye you mean?
D (in the background) : die? who died?
M: dye not die...
D : die not die?
M: D.Y.E...dye
D: ohh...hmm
M: I've told you a million times to oil your hair regularly ...now who will marry you after this...
Me: yadda yadda yadda ... you are not helping much...anyway I'll color it
M: I will die if you dye it
Me: how do you come up with such illogical non-threatening threats? goodbye...maybe I'll color it pink...though green is my new pink...
M breaks into her favorite song of how her daughter's sole aim in life is to disregard everything she says...I hang up..
There comes a time in every person's life when you realize your parents and you kind of share the same social sphere of adulthood...its that moment of truth when you understand that your parents have just about as many answers, as you, to the world's many problems....and you like them just learn to shut up and deal with it...
Later that day I told V about the day's discovery...he told me he had grey hair since he was like 10 years old...that he considers it a sign of his maturity and I a genetic disease that retards his mental capacity is a topic for another blog post...
I wish there was a moral to the story...like there was always one in Doogie Howser or Wonder years...maybe I am a bit too old to have moral endings to my stories...maybe even endings...because it really never ends does it?
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
