Indicting Nice

I live amongst nice people - people of gentle tones and pleasant smiles, helpful hand to ease small pains. People born into nice, or cleaving one's way to the creamy top to become nice.  Nice people accepting their deserved or earned privileges as also the depravity of the rest -independently. They practice being nice with other nice people, and soon believe they are the world.

 I am surrounded by people in cloaks of nicety and insulated by it. For, how else are nice people nice, without being blind - to the rape of this earth, or its daughters?? To the pervasive hunger and the wretched starvation? How are nice people nice without being deaf to the drones of wars, and destruction of rights - to live, eat, hope or dream? How are nice people nice without burying their hearts in deep rocky caverns that cannot be wrenched out to fly open skies and hear the weeping and the bleeding from all that nice people do?

Nice people are nice by giving up the belly laugh of the crazed insomniac, thrashing of the awake, inconsolable tears of a heart that feels and cannot absolve personal blame in the fate of the rest; nice people are nice when they clip wings of freedom and neither soar high, nor defy death to dive into unseen depths of unknown oceans; nice people are nice by living of moderate mind and heart, pre-occupied with the consumables of happiness which developing demands and are comforted by goods rather than goodness; nice people afraid to open doors and peek - at the awe inspiring wonder of universe and our own insignificance, or the broiling humanity of injustice and penury, to stare with eyes wide open at both the awe-inspiring and the gut wrenching; nice people afraid to suffer or soar.

I am learning to be un-nice.

First Impressions from France

We are on our way to Metz, France. At the Charles de Gaulle airport, Paris, we have a four hour layover:
I sit - a speck in a giant and mobile patchwork quilt - of fractured people and voices. Vaccuous silent bands mark inviolable spaces dividing people of different colors, races, language, culture, religion and style; it is a study of high contrasts, and separations, lacking an artist's touch of synthesis to create a vibrating and a living, whole.

It is Sunday. Everything is closed in Metz:
We are on a deserted planet - with wide empty roads, an occasional racing car, bus or an unbearable  rearing motorcycle. We walk closer together, than we have done since our youth, bonded by our strange mooring in this silent, sterile and non-peopled world.

Nature, on the other hand, revels in our enchantment and blooms, many thousand times over. Leaves hint at crimson and gold, swans glide, and a hundred birds take off in chorused flight - just for us.  We are hungry on only chocolate bars, coffee and pastry. Would die to have sambhar-rice. I buy an extravagant potted plant - purple-black Calle lilies now bloom in our tiny and barren studio apartment. I sleep hungry, but with a smile......... 1 Sept 2013........

After a First Week:

The population of Metz is 2 lakh. We have seen people now. Most smile and say "bonjour" without making eye contact. Restaurants and beauty parlors abound - including parlors for kids, and pets. I must say that people are really interesting to look at; everyone is so interested in practicing a personal style - from the ultra sophisticated and refined, to really weird and funky. People do seem to care very much about how they look, to others, and that makes them interesting to watch. Yesterday, we sat eating pizza with a rose wine, at a sidewalk pizzeria and watched people. We might be the only boring ones in this city. Today, I have kohled my eyes jet black and no longer feel a drab sparrow.

One could never successfully have such street side cafes in US, but one could in India.
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I was stopped on two consecutive days by security and asked to open up my bags..I try to not feel bad. Their racial prejudice is part of their job and profiling it requires of them. Yet, I consider that I do not look like a thief or even needy, by most standards. Maybe because I am so thin...? and not because I am brown? Clive used to laugh and say I looked like a famine victim from Africa.

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I enjoy wandering by myself. Have a sense of their land shape, soil color and texture, the unexpected dense copses of trees with dark mystery, the deeply interesting and forgotten cemetery with ancient gravestones, stained glass, ivy and flowers. In a over-organised layout, I search for dirt roads and shortcuts, sniff out abandoned cottage and still blooming poppies in mowed fields. I search under trees for sweet plums warmed by the sun - and pop them into my mouth, unwashed..ambrosia! Pears weigh down heavily and knock my head; orchards are filled with apples that no one wants.
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I am tired of all things complex and human...and "too much mind".  Visited the Pompidou Museum for Contemporary Arts...seems like so much thinking and analyses of all human processes. All the western psycho-analyses seem to be mere fabrications of bored minds - and then others analysing the original analyses, and so on...really, societies with too much time and too little to do - a veritable devils workshop. All this thinking, and still they continue to wage wars on real human beings, based on duplicity, lies and for profit and power. What has all this thinking really taught anyone?

I sit meditating on "No Mind"                      ............9 Sept 2013

Hunger - Up Close

I returned from Kolkata a week back. I am still haunted by the man sitting across from me, in the second class non-AC sleeper, on Yeshwantpur-Howrah Express. The train left Howrah around 8:30 pm, and I lay down on the lower berth with my newly acquired old Tanpura - in its brand new black case. I lay side by side with my instrument,  legs curled around its Lau base, comfortable and aware - to not damage this precious instrument. Three seats/berths were still empty.

When I awoke next morning, a new set of passengers had arrived to fill up all berths, and all passages and spaces between the berths; two people were sleeping in the two feet width separating berths, on the floor, sideways, comfortably and intimately, as the poor still know how. Later, I learnt that they were strangers to each other - squeezed together in their desperate need for sleep.

The man across me, at the opposite window seat must be forty - at most. He was dark, gaunt, with tight skeleton hands - all veins protruding. He wore his thin dark, well oiled hair in an unusually long fashion, curling at his ears and back. His clothes were worn thin - but neat. His eyes were hollow, slanty with pronounced lids. Lips were tiny, nose small, cheekbones wide and pronounced, emphasised by hollow cheeks. He was small - and light - and yet there was physical strength of a manual laborer or even a skilled crafts person.

What shook me, internally, as the day progressed, was that the man did not eat - at all. Nor did his companion - a skinny youth 18-20 years old. The man in the top berth seemed to be their boss, younger, well fed and sleeping - he seemed to be taking them to some job near Bangalore. When the young man ordered lunch for the two of them, the man in the top berth shouted that there was no way he was spending this amount of money feeding them; he cancelled their orders and kept a single order of lunch. Breakfast happened, and then snacks, and then lunch - people had either ordered railway food or had some food packed with them. The compartment of eight typically had five additional people - all ate, chatted, dozed, slept. I enjoyed the window seat with a stiff breeze and rolling countryside, hills, trees, water bodies, birds of wide variety - lots of cranes, herons, snake birds - black, still and wings wide spread. I was also constantly bothered by my two hungry companions. The young guy had wolfed down a small bag of puffed rice that he had with him - but the older guy ate nothing. While we ate, they obstinately stared out of the windows - often times their gullets moving as they swallowed at particular enticing smells of samosas, coffee, masala moori, biryani. The guy on the top berth ate his full lunch and again slept.

I had never witnessed hunger - or this kind of starvation - in anyone, before. It shook me that this was what it looked like - tear less, anger less, hopelessly bleak and gnawing. This hunger was proud, withering and stoic. I ate with shame the theplas my mom had made for me - with love, corrainder, hing and other masalas - light, fragrant, and delicate.

Around 5pm, the young man softly asked the older guy "maybe he will atleast give us Tea?" and the man replied " but there is too much shame in asking..". They both remained engrossed in their hunger - silent and  blank.

I overcame my personal embarrassment and bought them food - for the rest of the journey. The young guy, objected, only mildly. Neither met my eyes - but took the food - turned away and ate. Next morning, I was woken up with a light pat on my arm, and a face lit by a gentle smile " don't miss your stop - we are leaving"

I am still haunted by that face - chiseled by years of hunger - of a proud and working man, with nothing to eat. That too in this - India Shining.

Kolkatta Vignettes

Dilapidated building of ornate grace,
wrought iron trellis and stained glass face.


Ancient trees climb tumbling walls,
cobble streets clamor and swanky malls.


Wide sidewalks where the  homeless rest,
here, an infant suckles on a child's breast.

Unsuspecting lambs nibble sugary stalks,
while butchers mop blood off grimy walks.

Azaan soars high with temple bells,
clashing in heavens as hatred swells.

Fakirs and beggars in beads, bowls and rags,
fat marwaris, betel stained, on shop fronts sag.

Crackling skies and suffocated evening air
torn open by rains, ending a nightmare.


Mangoes flavor the kerosene haze,
while sheltered, I sip my tea and gaze.

Shoes and Saraswati

The other day, I went into my son's room to find him reading, leaning back on his chair, his feet - with boots - propped on his desk. And - I freaked out. Totally lost it. I raved and ranted about disrespect shown to learning, knowledge, to Saraswati herself. Now, this is not very usual behaviour for me. My son went quiet and followed my instructions to touch the table with his right hand, and then to his forehead in an act of repentance, seeking forgiveness. I behaved as my Mom would - and thought I was teaching my son lessons in value systems, cultural and traditional.

This was about a month back. I have since carried the incident in my head and wondered about respecting - learning, feet, hands, everything. Usually the learning that we are all taught to respect is done with our heads and via the medium of books. Saraswati - the goddess of learning is represented by the written word, and her Veena. And of course, it is good to respect these. My wondering has however led to a series of questions.

Are things learnt with head, better than things learnt with one's hands? I remember a New Year's message years back from a friend " Dream with your Hands" .It was a beautiful and unusual wish that I have kept with me since.

Why is touching anything with one's feet considered an offense that can be undone by seeking forgiveness by touching with our forehead. Is the head considered better than the feet, or legs? And why? Again, I remember my great discomfiture when reading Vivekananda. In one section Vivekananda talks of the caste system with the Brahmin represented by the head and the lower castes representing lower parts of our bodies. Is that the origin? Is this the brahmical system of hierarchical categorising that I am propounding, unwittingly, in the name of tradition, culture, and teaching respect.

I now understand that I cannot mechanically ground my kids in the habits of my ancestors. It is ok to not root them in tradition and culture, as long as I root them in their own questioning. What I can teach them, via example,  is a respect for all - all living, all myths, all cultures, all songs, all that sprung from the infinite wealth of natural wonders or from truth and beauty of human creation. I can teach them love, respect and silence.

Irrelevance of History

I was a poor student of history, and a good student of science and maths. This might have some bearing on what I now want to say.

It started over a dinner discussion on ethics, morality, parenting, education. Then he said something like..." Learning history is of foremost and necessary value for true education" . Considering that I grew up with very little and distorted historical perspective, and still have vociferous 'reasonable' opinions on everything from society, environment, politics, ethics, and history, that I value, I had to immediately oppose his stance...

What I write now originated over that dinner, together with google searches and wikipedia browsings, pickled in my head over last several days.

The basic argument is rooted in properties of stationary, ergodic processes for stochastic systems...I know, I know, it sounds complex, pretentious(blame the stats guys), but I can explain it on the basis of how and where I encountered it. In astrophysics, if we assume (reasonably) that star ensembles are stochastic( random), and stationary (average ensemble properties do not change with time or location), then observing star ensembles, of different ages (ie snapshot properties) allows you to decipher mean evolutionary properties of stars (time history) - and this is termed ergodicity. Our understanding of stellar evolution is based on such a statistical assumption, which was later verified in studies of star clusters (coeval systems - ie born at the same time). That is, it is unnecessary to watch stars live over their several billion year histories to figure out how they must have, and will continue to live - studying a sample reveals it, well enough.

I now propose that one can use a similar statistical hypothesis for human ensembles. We humans might be characterised as random (stochastic)processes, whose gross behaviors have not been changed or effected with either time or location (stationary). Such an assumption contends that innate human tendencies (such as survival, greed..) which guide how we evolve as a human race, have neither learnt from history nor changed with geographic location i.e. culturally - assuming averages over large enough time or space. Thus, the historical information of societies is embedded in a snapshot look at a cross section of current societies, making 'learning history(LH)' irrelevant.

I would like to argue further that LH has done more harm than good, since history is not just recorded by 'conquerors' but has inspired countless 'future conquerors' with their 'Veni, Vidi, Vici' - justifying, and glorifying distorted ambitions with mindless accumulation of territories, wealth, power. Recording history over millennia has neither taught us to build better societies, nor live more compassionately, equitably. History has been a way of propogating hate, differences, divides and using it to justify repressive behaviours. Citing historical events by Aurangazeb as been a standard excuse for justifying Babri Masjid or post Godhra genocide.

History serves the class whose histories get recorded, and historians who are employed to record it. It also serves dinner discussions of an intellectual class far removed from the struggles of the working class - the latter have neither leisure nor interest in a history irrelevant to their lives.

What we require, is to have a set of moral principles , guided by philosophical discussions to set down a set of ethical codes of conduct. This would then frame the 'learning' within which we operate as conscious, critical, open, rational, societies that 'live in the moment' based on their democratic and evolving beliefs. The only small way that history should participate is via the influence of culture. Cultures are histories imbibed, digested and expressed as organic, transformative effects in living societies.

Food for further thought on ergodicity and human ensemble can be found here.

Language Evolution and Politics

I recently read with keen interest the contents and discussions following a question 'lack of an audience for poetry?' examined in kufr. As an outsider to language studies, I was intrigued, intellectually challenged,and enlightened by the variety of points made especially in the long discussions that followed the two posts. But mostly, as a mainly English speaking Indian, I was oppressed by a sense of guilt at how distanced I had become from the language of my roots, my forefathers. It is this sense guilt that led me to examine the history of how my language evolved over this generation, originating from a family of mainly Gujarati speaking to my children who speak comfortably only in English. I hope this introspection will help shed light, at least from my perspective, on the question of whether or not political manipulation or ruling class subjugation had any role to play in the course of my mostly unconscious language evolution. Granted, I am no dalit, and cannot know the angst of the class experience. Yet I have wondered, whether the largess of the ruling class trickles down on the basis of pre-selecting their own kind, or just towards those who can supply their demands. These are usually met by a qualified lot already within a financially favored strata. It appears that wealth and benefits trickle down systematically from the wealthiest, to lesser wealthy, middle class, and finally the needy and poor. Similarly each successive tier from the bottom upwards attempts to climb up to the next rung towards higher wealth, comfort, and a better standard of living - and, just maybe, these processes happen without a strong caste/class biases, but more supply/demand basis. Accessibility to wealth creation mechanisms, traditionally have been ill favored towards those with least wealth.

Coming to the question of languages, Kuffir in his blog's discussion summarises:
"my aim in this series of posts, is to examine why and how language is used by the ruling classes i)as a tool of segregation and ii) and as a means of patronage.

in my view, it's irrelevant whether india adopted english or german or sanskrit or mandarin after 1947- all the ruling classes wanted to ensure was to make the best education and jobs available only to a select few, and foster a feeling of inadequacy among the rest. they seemed to have succeeded consistently until now."

My position, as a well off, English speaking Indian on the upper rungs of the financial and comfort ladder, is this: I am part of the privileged class Kuffir is talking about, and so I need to search my soul and face some home truths. My introspection has led me to believe that while what Kuffir states, undoubtedly happens, the generality of his statements might be misplaced.

Taking matters post 1947, for instance, except for those with inherited wealth, the surest way to improve one's lot was via education and getting a government job. Most aspiring sections in our society still feel education is the key out of hard life - it is mostly the wealthy or the poorest that do not directly pursue wealth via education. But the rest of the highly mobile, upwardly moving class is focusing on education, especially English education, to improve their lot in life. In my life at the farm, when I offered to help local village children with their studies, the only subject they were interested in was English - even though they did not need this for their academic performance.

I remember growing up in fairly strained financial circumstances and my parents saying they could not give us wealth, but had instead given us education - by this they meant English education. It is interesting that our wealthier cousins went through limited years in vernacular schools.

Even while we were, within a single generation, shifting to English as a mother tongue, so were countless others, following the same path in making the same choices for their children. It had very little to do with the lot of the poorer sections. We were just being prepared to get a somewhat bigger section of the pie - trained to move upwards. It just so happened that we were in the correct financial bracket to afford the luxury of a language, which undoubtedly, has been a single most obvious reason behind the financial mobility of my family. Now, we speak English at home, not to 'foster inadequacy' amongst others, but as a common language between my husband and I. Our losses have been many, a divorcing from our 'native' language, songs of its bards, the stories and festivals, the belonging has disappeared. Would I have consciously made the same choice? I am not sure...

I am at this point reminded of the very interesting blog that I read almost a year back. Here, Ram argued that "choices of individual agents make a system. There is no overall design as such" i.e. no conspiration, no intentional victimization, no intellectual ruling class consciously subjugating the rest.
Like I say " we are most like insatiable termites, we consume, consume, and the biggest termite consumes the most".

I Will Not Grieve

"The Earth will continue. Nature will regenerate. The planet will become green again. It's not that 'Life' will end. Life will continue. The question is whether the human species will continue."--Oren Lyons, Native American Chief.

I received this in a mail from a friend this morning. The words echo a similarly growing sentiment within -a quiet voice speaking insistently while I clamor with energy and passion to save trees, preserve forests, rights of species; while I brood at the damages by mines, large dams, highways, malls, airports; while I cry in sisterhood for all those that are forced to forfeit their basic rights to their own lands, lives, livelihoods so that the 'rest' of India may progress. The species that disappear, flora, fauna, and human have no rights, no voice, no place where they may appeal and be heard. So who is one fighting for anyway?? It seems that the voice of the environmentalists is the voice of the privileged, who usually cannot do without the urban comforts that they enjoy, which have been gained at an enormous cost (to others). Thus there appear to be two groups, a group of educated, wealthy urbanite who enjoy the fruits of all types of natural destruction in their comfortable homes, lifestyles. The others, whose lives are lived more in connection and balance with nature, who would give almost of anything to swap places with the first group. It is a subset of the privileged group that are self appointed guardians of rights - rights of humans, animals, plants, earth - as long as their own rights are not jeopardised. They can foresee the dangers of unrestrained development, progress, that will directly impinge on their lifestyles. Less trees, higher temperatures, more traffic, pollution if more people are allowed 'unrestrictedly' to swarm to their cities, drive cars like them, have enough money and comforts to consume happiness, like them. It is to this group of urban ecologists that I belong.

So are people like me mouthing environmental concerns, really fighting for their own rights to maintain 'restricted memberships' for a privileged few? What would we give up for preserving precious nature?? Would we not commute to work, take a lesser paid job, not make large houses of bricks, not enjoy weekend trips by car, not grow lawns, waste water, use power, not cave in to Ugadi sales, not accept plastics?? What would we go without so the trees may live, flowers bloom, bees drone in the warm sun? For, it is all connected. What small things would we do without, before we march with banners against widening roads, cutting trees for human rights of more people to drive more cars, windows rolled up, aircon on?

Trips to remote places around the country have taught me this much- the real guardians of environment wear this honour with burden, as shackles. They view their high mountains, unsoiled air, clear water, with a careless indifference of the familiar. They are eager to imitate people from the plains, live in large ugly congested cities with flea-infested foodstalls, cinemas, shops, the million sparkles of plastic trinkets, the multi-coloured lights of their nights. I travel to their world to view the uninterrupted band of Milky Way, the colored rocks under their crystal streams, to breathe deeply and feel the heady pleasure of the chilled mountain air; I am enthralled by their dark nights, transparent days; they only want a twenty four hour uninterrupted power supply.

Should I fight that their world remain unchanged? their nature remain pristine, their wildlife be saved from extinction? So I might take an occasional break from my comfortable life to foray into their world? Yes, I shall fight, like all others, for what is truly beautiful, rare and precious to me, my life, our generation of urban misfits. I shall cry hoarse that a tree not be axed, a lake not be filled, a forest not destroyed. I shall loudly proclaim for my right to preserve my rights.

But...I shall not grieve, when green canopies no longer shelter our world, when turquoise lakes dry, when hot air singes and lungs gasp at each filthy breath. I shall not grieve when we convert open greens into termitic colonies of crude concrete or waterways into stenchy gutters of dark murk. I shall not grieve, that more others have joined my neighborhood, my rank, my club of privileged living with flush toilets, lawns, cars, malls and lots of plastic bags - I will patiently wait for the day when they once again look towards the stars.

Another Self, Another Voice

When the Voice first spoke to me, clamoring for birth, freedom, Parallel Journeys was born. It gave expression to the inner me that I hear, consult, indulge and value - utmost. She spoke of her wanderings, ramblings, desires, hopes; also her anger, angst, anguish, frustrations; she spoke mostly of herself in wide, large, most often silent empty spaces, and the inner journeys that arose from these travels to distant lands. And even as she speaks in her solitary solitude....

Another distinct, different Voice has been making her presence felt - within. This child is different - already attached, grounded, firmly anchored into the world she is impatient to be born into. This world is the world of humans, their social theatre with continuously unfolding layers of different Acts, simultaneously being played out on the large stage. She is mostly a witness in this theatre of absurd, but often, as can happen in theatre, acts take a life of their own , the actors and the audience become one, and which side the curtain falls - depends on which side one is on. This theatre of absurd is mostly a theatre of perspectives. She, this Voice, is a strange one - she finds her gaze often rivetted by the macabre of slit throats and strangling holds by unseen hands -cold blooded murders and eerie mysteries- played out on a social stage - trying to gaze beyond the curtain to identify the director who created this episode.

Her presence cannot be denied - inside - she has already spoken through her older sister Parallel at times. So - time for another birth! She resides here.

Individual, Social Growth

It appears that organization of societies fall in two broad categories. One, the actions of individuals are governed, primarily, by the well being of all, or the larger common good. In the other, individual actions focus towards the betterment of self, and expressions of individual freedom. The former category broadly describes a classic oriental model, where historically, civilizations and societies of east, flourished without particular individual influences -where social movements forward in arts and sciences were a progression of social evolution under benign monarchies during times of peace. Thus, some of the outstanding examples in early Indian arts and architecture are symphonies of orchestrated effort, where individual artistry although recognisable, is subsidiary to the movement of the piece as a whole.

Diametrically opposed to this was the occidental model. In Renaissance- an individual was born, created , shone brilliantly, and by his light, illuminated a great social movement forward in arts, sciences, literary and philosophical thought. Great masters lived, ruled, swayed entire societies, becoming heroes, inspirations to generations yet waiting to be born. These masters too were nurtured by discerning patrons who supported their lifestyles and liberties required to evolve as artists.

Within the current homogenised and globalised world, market trends govern growth-individual or social; more accurately, certain aspects of profitable, profiteering growth. Are these pertinent to either individual or social movement forward? in terms of basic rights to life, liberty, pursuits of happiness? for all?

Some cud for me to chew on....

Trading Science

Last night, a senior scientist was overheard advising a junior colleague "Don't sell yourself short", in a discussion on scientific exchanges, research funding, and generally you-scratch-my-back and I'll-scratch-yours. I lost the rest of the conversation, since I was struck that neither paused on the part "don't sell yourself"-it was "selling short" that was the issue. The message was clear, SELL- but not for less. Optimize profits, evaluate personal gains, learn the ropes, climb the ladder. We are a nation of the free now, free to choose our bidders with care, scout the market, hunt.

Most scientific research, at least in academic institutions, here and abroad, is based largely on finding funding- funding for equipment, facilities, conferences, travel, student support and sundry - this is just how the game is played. In a climate of application based research, industrial alliances, scientific research is dictated by need, the need of the providers-so, the goal is to become a part of a market driven, fashionable funded, operation. Market is driven by profits, usually profits for those that have enough funding to invest in future prospects of further profits with research projects, proposals, swaying and setting trends in entire communities of scientists, thinkers. Higher thought is now guided by who is paying our elite to think, not about relevance of this thought for the benefit of society as a whole, or even driven by a curiosity to know more. Now, don't get me wrong, I am not propounding that all work have social relevance, or even higher moralistic goals-in fact, I firmly believe that there is space for diversity, of people, desires, and dreams. However, diversity is no longer the call of the day-markets choose mono-trends, drive mono-dreams, sold enmass in media through identical advertisements in all the multitudes of television channels. And it is this consumerism driven happiness-dream that drives most searches for funding - supplementing salary, affording happiness luxuries, traveling abroad - a sign of status symbol.

And then, when times are good, like now, the researchers run out enough man power, people, students, to assist with larger scale output, fuelled by a need/greed for more and more funding. This then sets off an entire other chain reaction, of how to attract more students, publish more papers, have more office/lab space...again a repetition of the more, more, more mantra by our most elite.

But what does all this really achieve, for us as a people? Will there be less bomb blasts, fewer communal riots, cleaner water to drink, fresher air to breathe, further dissemination of the scientific thought and process to strata lower down, a trickling down of our profits to those who are also part of us, our 'democracy'? Who will think, when all thought is already sold-and not short?

A Week in Coorg: Diary Entries

The Homestead

I spent last week in Coorg. I spent it with friends from Bangalore, my hosts, in a small traditional home, within a coffee estate, embedded in a grove of tall rosewoods. The home was a comfortable urban dwelling and yet there was a simple, rural charm, with red oxide floors, hanging brass lamp and hurricane lanterns for those long hours without power, and a small veranda to stare out into the forest. Coffee dried on large tarps, saplings were stacked ready for planting, an orchid tumbled from a plastic mug - a gift. Three dogs bounded to greet us when we arrived, appearing from no where-and stayed with us while we remained.

The day started early for my hosts, with work to be organized, labor to be planned. I stayed in bed, enjoying the quietness, leisure of being a guest. Days flew by in conversation, long long walks with frequently forgotten details of which cousin owned which share of property, propriety and impropriety of the affair etc. What was memorable was the land-rolling hills, green, dense cover of trees, garlanded with pepper vines, and coffee bushes under. The valley floors were fertile, flooded with neon green patches of freshly sown rice; and all of this intermingled with cardamom, bananas, jackfruits, citruses of several varieties, wild flowers and a hundred different ferns still squeezed through the remaining space-dense, opulent, land of plenty...

An Evening at an Estate

That evening, I felt I had stepped back in time. A time that I only knew from old English writings - a world with chivalrous men, gracious ladies, large estate bunglows of wood and glass, shiny red floors, portraits of family and ancestors, gleaming brass, sparkling crystals; bunglows with sprawling gardens, jumbled with flowers, small islands of refinement and taste, carved out in jungles deep and dark, where cicadas chorused at deafening volume; evenings at long, deep verandas sipping that scotch to a sunset; dinner served on long wooden tables with good china, relaxed conversation about - only nothing in particular, always pleasant, non controversial, charming.

I played a role..attentive guest, interested, well behaved-mimicking graciousness, only to be defeated by an uncontrolled laughter, a slurried Bacardi-song, a non-rehearsed comment that escaped, unheeded, to my need to blend in, observe, study this strange world unobtrusively, not influencing their old world charm, faith, lifestyle, where men were men, accepted lords over feminine, whom they protect, cherish, at their will...

Bylakuppe, Kushalnagara

In the Mysore district of Karnataka, extending below the foothills of Coorg, lie Bylakuppe, and Kushalnagara, the second largest Tibetan settlement in India, outside Dharmashala. We knew we had arrived when the homes sported colourful fluttering flags offering prayers to the winds, shop fronts carried knick-knacks of a different world, restaurants advertised momos and thugpa, and lamas wandered streets in maroon robes or sped by on motorcycles. The agricultural patterns changed from small disorganised growing with human and cattle labor , to large holdings with mechanised farming, rotating sprinkler systems, a lush denseness to growth that only prosperity can bring-blessed again by tall poles carrying prayers. The community by its hard work and adaptability has achieved a level of economic success and stability rarely seen or matched in this nation-the Golden Temple complex at Bylakuppe is an outstanding testimony to this success. Seen from far and wide, across green fields and prayer flags, in a unsettling setting of tropical lushness, the temple stands tall, gleaming, blinding, unbearably colourful, attracting visitors from near and far. Done with patience, and love, only experienced by a threatened culture, each detail of their faith is remembered with ardor and reproduced with painstaking care. The giant doors are red and gilded, the walls frescoed with stories from life of Buddha, the fight of evil versus good, temptations of flesh, and finally at the alter, the enlightened being, Buddha himself with other Bodhidharma avataras on either side-enlightened and at peace, beyond the grasp of Maya.

We were in time for the afternoon prayers where a few hundred novices of boyish ages ran to their positions at the floor benches and then chanted in deep, sonorous voices, prayers which salved a heart, stilled a restless mind...

Economics of Education

It is a prevalent belief in certain circles, that education is a panacea for all social evils...I belonged to that club. The belief is founded on a myth, that education gives you a choice, a determination of livelihood, if not of life itself. Granted, if education gives you awareness, ability to think, assess, critically analyse, have an opinion...then those are all steps in the right direction. But, one usually takes a more particular stance of education removing global hunger, poverty, environmental crises, class disparities. Somehow, even within the educated class, providing education to the poor, is seen as a solution, that by providing economic security, resolves all other individual and social manifestation of poverty.

I have recently been thinking...questioning the premise...if all 6 billion of us were educated, capable of making a choice, would there still be choice?Would the world turn into a Lenon-ish Imagine-able utopia? or would the 'choice' still remain select, finite, now drawing from a much larger pool of wannabe capables? would not the global, market driven systems, then quickly short change the now redundant educated masses, for a rarer species of say, garbage collectors?

Probing, further, into shakier economic grounds, it appears that education cannot create wealth. Education leads (most frequently) to white collar jobs and allows flourishing of service sectors that help redistribute wealth. But can the entire global population become service providers-to the top percent of the truly wealthy, individuals, corporations, governments -the ones with wealth and capacity/power to generate wealth? What creates wealth? or more pertinently, who creates wealth? And can this wealth be created without the support (willing or abused) of global people, global resources. Is wealth, not just commodity - necessary or desirable?monetary currency just a facilitator of the earliest barter system for exchanges of goods? Then, how can education, generate wealth, prosperity, and ultimately peace? Are we chasing a pipe dream - or deliberately keeping our eyes closed, that we can dream a dream, not fully black?

Or...I am thinking completely wrong about this, and someone will tell me how- to let me dream a dream.

Horror of Horrors!

Last night, the first rains hit us in Bangalore-today the residence campus wore a sparkley look of a well scrubbed child-glistening, moist, clean-very clean. I decided to walk back home from one of those rare ventures out of the walled, green world that I live in...into the real world of chaotic traffic, noise, puddles from the afternoon rain. The mood was upbeat, almost daring - to wander out, far, in a drizzle full of evening light.

The walk back home took me past a campus gate thats usually locked-today it was open-I was happy to be able to reach into the campus, sooner than expected, anticipating a dark, drippy walk through the familiar forested areas-a quiet, meandering to the back end of my home. What I saw belies imagination, of the worst sort, a living nightmare-the forest had vanished! Large tracts now lay beaten, brown with large concrete frames rising from it. Monuments were being built, monuments to egos larger than mortal frames, egos seeking to imprint their transitory existence into concrete immortal blocks, of steel, glass-green now vanished, vanquished, scheduled to reappear- isolated into tiny islands of manicured lawns, well appointed bush, a correctly angled tree, imagined in the minds and offices of architects, city planners employed to creatively orchestrate this destruction.

What assumed rights leads to such behavior, the megalomaniac tendencies of human race, to destroy to create- more and more out-of-proportion with our rights, our race? With what callousness do we wipe out-the rights of life, of species, big and small-of trees that breathe? birds that sing? flowers that bloom?

Beyond the horror of destroying a living, green, forest, what does a scientific institute like ours hope to achieve? A large bill board advertises the nature of the project and its cost. Various science departments are being relocated from their old, functioning buildings of aged, mulled, stone, to swanky spaces-also a guest house for the foreign dignitaries. We must remember, that who we are, is not what we do, but how we clothe, the face we show - to an audience of 'international' (read first world) peers. The cost of these set of buildings-about Rupees 48 crores!!Will these new buildings enable/ guarantee better science, productivity? studies of more socially relevant, environmentally sensitive topics, which the nation needs? With what right does our government appropriate such vastly inappropriate sums of national funds to irrational, irrelevant, non-contexted science that does not raise us from poverty, illiteracy, inequity which grinds into the pores of daily life-grits the flavor of our existence?

To provide context, it requires about one lakh to do watershed development for a village, similar or less to open a balwaadi for primary education. Basic health care and a first aid centre between a few villages is still an unheard fantasy!
So, one can either have 4800 of such programs, or 4 fancy buildings for IISc!! And note, much more is being built for empire expansion within this campus! I am only talking about the project that I crossed today-other side of the campus is a bigger mess using probably, bigger funds!

The question is, how much of this activity has the attention of what fraction of our enlightened faculty?? Did they know and not care? or not know? or not want to know? Why do the students not protest? Are there no angels, sentinels to guard what we so wantonly destroy? To keep us off the destructive path? Who will save us?

A Wealthy Man

There is a story that my husband likes to relate. It goes something like this.A CEO of giant MNC is scheduled to visit the chief of a small tropical island, known to contain some rare mineral deposits. Accordingly, the CEO flies to the nearest airport is his private jet, races to the island in his speedboat, to find no delegation to welcome him at the appointed hour. Irritated, he asks for the chief to the villagers loitering around and is pointed to a path. The path meanders through thickets, bushes, jungles with colorful flowers, clamoring birds, monkeys to finally end up at a beautiful lagoon- picture of a perfect tropical paradise. Here he spots the chief dozing on a hammock. Completely flustered at this nonchalant reception, he approaches the chief, introduces himself and presents his proposal to mine the mineral reserves with lucrative rewards for the chief and his villagers. The chief hears him through and then asks lazily why he was interested in the mineral. The CEO patiently explains how this would help promote the interests of his company and benefit the shareholders. "Then what?" asks the chief. The CEO lays out his grand plans to expand such operations to other areas, islands."Then what?"again asks the chief. The CEO replies that with such expansion, his company would be the biggest in the world. "Then what?" asks the chief again. Well, then the CEO replies that he would retire a happy man, and settle down in a tropical island to enjoy the rest of his life. At this the chief smiles and says "You can do that now".

It is a myth of our times that if we accumulate enough wealth we'll be able to be happy-both, capable of happiness and also deserving of it. I have met many very wealthy people none who consider that they might have enough to give themselves a chance to happiness. In fact it appears that ones perception of wealth is anti-correlated to the amount of one's wealth. The only three self proclaimed wealthy people I know are on the university campus where I live- with earnings that are considered modest by the current Indian urban standards.

At a completely different level are the farmers in the rural belt outside Bangalore. It appears that the comings and goings of wealth through their life has little or no bearing on how their days are lived. Thus, Anna (or 'older brother'), my neighboring farmer, smiles and raises his eyes heavenwards, both when his crops have fetched him a healthy market price or when the market has crashed, rending all the months of his hard work a waste. He, unknowingly, has become my mentor, my guide. He lives his karma uninfluenced by its outcome- the ultimate lesson in Bhagavad Gita. May I be blessed with his grace; may the world be similarly blessed.

Medical Tourism and Such...

We have friends visiting India from the US, for dental work. Apparently, it costs their insurance company less to fly them over to India, and take care of their fillings, root canals, etc. than to do the same in the US. Having stayed for over a decade in the US, I can personally vouch that the dentists in India are much better. So my sympathies are entirely with my friends-they rather see a dentist here-it is cheaper, better. However, there is always a further story to tell.

Bangalore, like all the other fast developing metros in India, is seeing a rapid rise in promoting, read- selling, human resources as a primary commodity to the markets of hard currency developed nations-service oriented businesses flourish catering to the lifestyles of folks from the wealthy world. BPO centers to provide services at the touch of a button, western model health care facilities and well being centers to cope with stress of too much money, too many goodies, too much self indulgence, abuse of the self. Apparently, a cataract surgery that costs about 300USD, for both eyes, in India, costs as much as 2000USD per eye, in USA. So, you see, the incentives for the foreign patients, or their insurance companies, is very large. It is easy, now, to combine a serious surgery with a recuperating holiday in the Kerela backwaters- massages, beaches, entertainment, shopping all thrown in. All of this is well and fine-some people need money, others need services-good barter for both.But, what is bothersome, in case of outsourcing medical care is that the same, or even a smallest fraction of these facilities, are not available to most of the society. Between all the doctors or medical workers still leaving the country for better opportunities abroad and an increasing in-home competition for the higher paying foreign markets, the system is highly strapped in meeting the health requirements for most of its own people. Rural health care is no longer an attractive choice for the budding generation of doctors that graduate each year. A government that subsidizes, to a very large extent, all higher education within the country, leaves consumers to decide what happens to the end product of its social investments. And thats precisely because the government itself is running around-selling itself short, selling itself fast, selling land, water, energy, food, basic necessities as rapidly as it can to large corporations, either from home or abroad. The strength of our nation is now gauged in terms of buying power of its burgeoning middle class, rather than the percentage that are fed, educated, healthy. Throwing away the rights of the common man, our largest pool, has assured us respect with WTO, GAT, and other MNC controlled global policy makers. Besides cheap, displacable labor, and a corruptible vote bank in our so called democratic system, the poor amount to little else with the schemers at the top. And this is what sets the tone for a national conscience, or a lack of it.

What we have to ask, is whether an inclusive, equitable society of equal opportunities is not the more beneficial for our nationhood, our lifestyles, even our economics. Do we really gain by keeping a majority of our population non-accounted in our plans, future goals, directions?Is it in our best interest to entirely marginalise a majority and then complain at the violence it breeds, hatred it nurtures -generation upon generation. Is seeking global economic prosperity making us blind to the filth we generate in our backyards-humans whose hopelessness will hit us harder than any terrorism seen so far.

So what is a solution? As a friend wisely said, enforce conscriptions in army for all, and make a country hesitant in waging war-or in this case, make all of society contribute towards upliftment of its weaker sections, in-kind, for the benefits it receives. This will go towards meeting the basic needs of the majority, to ensure long term stability of a society and also go a long way in sensitizing our privileged young to a path of right action-where more than just economic success govern life goals.

Last Night-A Student Suicide

1. A suicide-
a young life
lost
to all generations
her pain
branding shame
on society
that does not care
give a damn
or share-
leaving us with
jagged lives
our maybes, and whys
just to forget
this sorrow
by tomorrow.

2. Shame

A corpse was wandering
an almost corpse
still breathing,
fighting,calling,
beseeching for help
imploring,
in a silent voice.

No luck anywhere,
hospitals cant accept
an almost corpse
a police case,paperwork
a duty, easy to shirk.

Finally,
the almost corpse
finds a resting place,
hands that agree to help-
strip her bare,
of jewelery and cash,
strip her of all
that could be sold
-maybe even her soul!

When it was a corpse,
they robbed her still,
demanding cash
from crying relatives,
to let her go,
whom they would not
accept before,
to a last journey
back home
and bid goodbye,
her spirit free
to roam.

Advertising Grief

I belong to a human rights' group in India, that posts me regularly of violations to human life, freedom, voice. Often these mails are accompanied with a "please respond" request on the subject line-a shaming, but necessary request. With all the mails filling up our Inboxes, we are liable to ignore, or read and ignore. The request creates a pause, attention to possible action, or atleast an urgent need to reaction.

On the other hand, the large colorful advertisements of consumer products, on our radios, computers, TVs, billboards, newspapers, magazines, T-shirts walking by, buses, pamphlets handed to us, stuck in our post boxes-often warrant more attention; especially if they carry key words like "Sale", "Prices Slashed","50% off". Then we queue up, to take advantage of these special offers,to save money, to spend money and to make more money.

What is it about accumulating "stuff" that draws us more than lost lives, wrongful deaths, suppressed childhoods, violated women, the right of all to be free, equal. How should we advertise grief thats all around? on colorful bill boards? with a buy one, get one free? Or does our consumerism not extend to accepting responsibilty for the ones that bear burdens of our bought happiness?

On Festivals and the Faithless

It has always felt that faith is for the fortunate-any sort of faith. It keeps things simple, questions fewer, answers easier. India survives on an abudance of faith, Gods, and karma-destiny, where the big and small destinations in a life's journey are pre-programmed based on the fine balance between deeds and mis-deeds, actions accumulated over eons of previous births. A majority of people subscribe to some sort of faith- details vary-but prescriptions are clear about right versus wrong, moral versus evil. Gods are favoured over demons and faith dictates that Gods always win. It is this faith that keeps the people going, through natural, national or personal disasters, sees them through worst crises, uncomprehending and yet accepting their lot-with their faith even more entrenched.

I belong to a deprived minority -the faithless. So all events are usually followed by uncomfortable questioning. The festival season is just over, and a variety of battles have been fought successfully by Gods against demons. Were these battles and festivals designed to demarcate and perpetuate the established order of the strong few against the weak many? a non-equitable and grossly unfair society based on caste system? As my partner once remarked, it is surprising that India functions at all, that there is not more anarchy, that overall, man is still good and attempting right-i.e.accepting his poorer lot in life. Is this a consequence of the continuous festivals -a constant reminders of divine battles where good and the just always win? What is good-and for whom? and who decides this? A victory of a few gods cannot be good for the many demons-and which side gets to be divine?

Were our ancestors thinking of keeping such demons, outside, at bay? Or, just reminding us to be wary of the demons within? Even through the celebrations of these current set of festivals, I have been aware of the lurking presences inside, clamoring to overthrow good intentions, responsibility, stability for the escape into excitement of freedom, discovery of the unknown, the realm of the possibile impossibilities. The battle is over, the Gods have won- but who were the Gods?

A Decade of Decadence

Its been a decade since I made a honest living-or, for that matter, any living at all. I have been supported by my partner - in all respects, financially and otherwise-through adventures, mis-adventures, enterprise, endeavor, strife, frustrations and falls. Very soon into this 'retirment' I resolved not to 'earn' a living and thereby earn back a life - and the possibility of the 'unknown'.

Now, a decade later, I understand that the unexpected can only happen if allowed to happen, that the uncharted course is immensely fulfilling, and no goals is a reasonable choice for a life goal. The course is meandering, slowed and savouring-the choices more free, and momentuous, and the results more often surprising. I have learnt that this suits me - I like surprises.

Yet, a part of me still sometimes ponders - am I living off society? Definitely, even if I were earning, because I sit at the upper edge of a social pyramid where the contributions of the countless less financially abled to poor, sustain my lifestyle, my freedoms of choice, my consumption of more than my fair share of natural resources. My making a living has nothing to do with how I whittle away at all dwindling resources. I would probably "consume" much more had I earned a livelihood. So I swing wildly between attempts to practice a no-currency economy with ragi and saru, on my farm, to indulging in urban decadence, with gin-and-tonic and Japanese movies, in the city.

So while no-goal is still the goal, a desire to tread in balance remains-is that itself a goal? To tread, not just in balance, but to also tread lightly, carefully,
and consciously of my great priviledge - freedom to chart my own course.