Mother

Mother,
The folk who live up in the clouds call out to me-
"We play from the time we wake till the day ends.
We play with the golden dawn;
We play with the silver moon."
I ask, "But how am I to get up to you?"
They answer, "Come to the edge of the earth,
Lift up your hands to the sky,
And you will be taken up into the clouds."

"My mother is waiting for me at home," I say,
"How can I leave her and come?"
Then they smile and float away.

But, mother, I know a nicer game than that.
I shall be the cloud and you the moon.
I shall cover you with both my hands,
And our house-top will be the blue sky.

The folk who live in the waves call out to me-
"We sing from morning till night;
On and on we travel and
Know not where we pass.
"I ask, "But how am I to join you?"
They tell me, "Come to the edge of the shore,
And stand with your eyes tight shut,
And you will be carried out upon the waves."

"My mother always wants me at home in everything”, I say.”
How can I leave her and go?"
They smile, dance and pass by.

But, mother, I know a better game than that.
I will be the waves and you will be a strange shore.
I shall roll on and on and on,
And break upon your lap with laughter.

And no one in the world will know where we both are.

Courtesy : Tagore (Clouds and Waves)

Hamaara Hyderabad

It was a Friday again, exactly one week after the black blasts at the revered Mecca Masjid. My way back to home from office. In front of Queen’s Plaza I hired an auto and got down near the Begumpet railway station, the old autowala searched his tiny tin box for the change; 1 Re less, he was not having change, when I nodded in agreement for my loss, he reset his meter, started his vehicle and immersed himself in the puzzling traffic. He did not forget to present me a smile, his betel chewing, broken brown teeth shined, the perfect Hyderabadi style.

Sardar Patel road was literally full, the commercial Begumpet area was preparing for yet another dusk, the end of business hours, vehicles flowing from the nearby airport formed an endless line. The huge neon lit hording on the top of the bridge, on which Chiranjeevi and Nayanthara from the latest Telugu movie, with all the glitters, showered smiles at the pedestrians, the drilling work for the fast finishing ‘Green lands-Panjagutta’ flyover continued, lorries ferrying concrete and sand hurried through the lines, workers were busy, life was normal, the city was the same, everywhere.

Beside the bridge, near the station, I had ‘vada’ and tea from one of the street side makeshift stalls. A short guy with round face served me chutney, he whistled a Telugu popular tune, the curry was hot, spicy and I coughed.

It was evening 6:30; scorching summer sun was retreating, the prayer calls for ‘Magrib’ from the nearby mosque thickened the air, a flock of ash coloured pigeons fluttered around from their hide outs, small boys in pyjamas and white caps lined out from the nearby neighbourhood. The old lady selling bangles and stuffed cotton saris in the shades near the flyover gazed. The city remains unmoved; life was normal, predictable and with ease, as it was in the last one decade; the message was strong, no evil can upset the warmth of brotherhood and the kind shades of universal tolerance, which is deep there in the blood.

The blast had its repercussions but Hyderabad learnt smart lessons from the past, no more infiltrations or outrageous actions, the populace matured, the normal Hyderabadi has grown to a new level of acceptance, now he see his neighbour through the eyes of a human and not through the hatred lens given by the clergy, as he was fooled numerous times in the history. A remarkable, salacious and outstanding achievement.

Yes, it is rightly said, you can fool some of the people all of the time, all of them some of the time, but you cannot fool all of them all of the time. And Hyderabad stands the happy example for this.

Unposted Letter

<Undated>.

Dear.........,
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Ever,
Arjun.

Cartoons, Chaos and Calvin

In the middle ages the kings employed court jesters who mocked on anything and everything. They were entertainers but more importantly critics of the policies in autocracy. They countered sycophancy with legitimacy.

Why can’t we call comic strips the new generation court jesters? In a society where wit and sarcasm are comfortably misused, the comic strip ‘Calvin and Hobbes’ has propagated the virtues of loyalty and love. In a world where humans are divided on the basis of colour, caste and creed they offered us two friends that are not even the same species. But how, being so different, they still manage to maintain a fierce friendship?

Calvin, the main character is six or eight year old boy, lives with his parents, dashes into troubles very soon, breaking any thing remotely breakable. At the same time he is extremely smart, but his imagination and immaturity make success impossible. He represents the piece in all of us that wants to stay a kid for ever – any complaints??

Hobbes, Calvin’s stuffed tiger, whom he believes real, will have life only when Calvin is around. He is the voice of reason, maturity and usually tries to talk Calvin out of nasty ideas. They fight often, but he is perfect best friend and companion.

When differences are too jarring, man cannot accept them as final, so either he wipes them out with blood or coerces them in some kind of homogeneity or a deeper unity. All comic characters are social statements. But Calvin is more than a social statement. He portrays what we think as a kid and how the surroundings react. He is there in all of us, at some point of time or other, whether we accept it or not. Calvin feels alienated from parents, other kids at school, from the little girl down the street, and from the institutional education. To cope with this he retreats into games of his imagination. His behaviour is weird, but this is what most mammals have done for millions of years. For any individual compressed and crowded times has its use when dealing with material things and there he tries for escape. There reality is represented by nightmare, disease by frank, honest revelation of the normal, lowest, crude fact.

Playing is the most primitive method used for training and learning both by animals and humans and Calvin’s escapism too employs play. He develops his own magic circle where games’ rules have nothing to do with the larger universe outside. There he decides the rule, the formalities, the laws and everything is based on his fantasies and interpersonal issues. It is rounded which starts from Calvin and ends at him. He prefer the game of imagination than the game of competition, it’s a game of imitation than limitation. Every time Calvin plays a game with Hobbes they bend the rules in ridiculous ways simply degrade into an argument and disperse.

These two reveal the different facets of human personality. Calvin voices our immature face, echoing the sentiments; on the contrast Hobbes offers voice of ironic maturity, though immune to silliness at times. For Calvin, Hobbes is a walking and talking tiger, full of his own attitude and ideas but for outside world he is a stuffed tiger alone. He is more or less a subjective nature of reality than a doll coming to life.

Let us all revive the Calvin in us and search out for the Hobbes, for a better meaning and understanding of our chaos and ultimately the escape from them.

Foot Note:
Calvin: Sometimes when I talk, my words can’t keep up with my thoughts; I wonder why we think faster than we talk.

Hobbes: Probably, so you can think twice.

If

"If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!"

Courtesy : Rudyad Kipling (If)

Shadows of Solitude

When sun sets, the light fades,
When shadow extends its lengthening hands,
When spiraling darkness start reality hunt,
When all the celebrations are drained over,
Cheers down, songs sung, stars asleep in-
blissful haunting silence.
Smiles recede to the next favorite lamp post,
to the alternate luminous wine spots,
without a kiss of gratitude.

And then you realize
that
you are cruelly alone!!

Silent Valley thoughts.....

To the development thirsty sharks of the state...
To the supporters and promoters-
of the proposed 'Paathrakkadavu' project,
To the State Board officials, beurocrats and above all
To the Communist Marxist Government in power in the state,
To the cautious public of Kerala,
Who still have the courage to see things in black and white
And shout that the king is naked.

Yes, agree, hydel power is cheaper and safer,
And the proposed 70MW project
in the buffer zone of the valley of Paathrakkadavu
Is small in scale when compared to other major ones,
And is just 4 km away from Silent Valley National Park.
The implementation of this multi crore project might help-
A handful of contractors thicken their pockets,
A few officials from the board too lick their salty hands,
The smeared sweet grease; quite natural.
We do not have concerns, its part and parcel of the nation's history
Accepted!!!

But the area where you are going to axe down
On the name of development and power generation
Was declared a national park in 1984.
It is known for rare species of animals,
Plants, birds, reptiles, sweet little butterflies...
A nature's gift with wonderful flora and fauna
One of the worlds rare virgin forests.

Just because it fall under our geography,
Neither Kerala nor India can claim it and exploit;
It is a treasure and an asset for the whole of humanity.
Which needs to be nurtured and protected with utmost care.
Else how do we claim ourselves a civilized populace?

The Sairandrivanam (ancient name of Silent valley)
is situated 1100 km above sea level.
It is blanketed by rare and dense rain forest.
The only home of endangered lion tailed monkeys,
The rain forest that keep Kunthippuzha (the tributary of Bharathappuzha)
Alive, full fledged and vibrant, throughout the year.

Power whether electrical or political must be decentralised,
if it has to reach the grass roots effectively.
A fact; scientifically tried and proven.
We have already set the example
by decentralising official, political power.
The 'Panchayat Raj', the real power to the masses.

Now we need to decentralise electrical power,
the very back bone of any modern society's growth.
We need to think beyond Idukki and Lower Periyar
The possibilities of mini and micro hydel projects
Which cater the local needs have to be explored,
And developed effectively.
They may not churn out million spitting projects,
But that is the need of the hour, in the densely populated state.

The enormous distribution losses can be reduced in this manner.
It is a shame we forget (that we have a long costal line)
It is high time we tapped current from tides
And why the hell do we ignore wind power?
When there is enough scope and possibilities for both in the state.
When the whole world is complaining about global warming
Can the centum literate Keralite be away from the bandwagon?
Don't we too have the responsibility to dial down the carbon?

We should not stumble in the dark;
development has to be understood in the right sense and meaning.
More non conventional methods have to be explored.

But...
Even if power is not generated and we sit in the darkness,
Let silent valley and its virgin inhabitants be peaceful.
Let us leave them alone, respect and honour their right to live
Let us show that minimum commonsense.