Ghosts on a Tamarind Tree

Ghosts love tamarind. That is why they live on tamarind trees. This is the first thing to know about ghosts. People have known this all along. That is why tamarind trees are found outside villages - and no one leaves their village after dark.

I have a home outside a village and there is a huge tamarind tree in my garden. So, I know of this - first hand. One hot and late afternoon, I was sitting under this tamarind tree - just time passing. Occasionally I would pick up a fallen tamarind pod and suck on its intense, dark flesh, face scrunching up at its tartness. Suddenly I heard and saw tamarind seeds raining down - not pods, only just seeds. I looked up, only to get pock marked by these shiny black seeds, showering from above - and nothing else - I swear! No monkeys, no rascal village kids. Only seeds dropping from above. Had never been a great believer in ghosts, but what to do? This was real proof. I figure seeing me suck on those tamarind pods had made the ghosts hungry.

And so we lived, the ghosts and I, as neighbors. They did not bother me and I let them alone - while continuing to visit the tamarind tree. I often heard the tamarind tree rustle in no-breeze, heard the long howls of a family quarrel. Mostly they were quiet and I was comfortable.

Problems started when some visitor from the city discovered my tamarind tree and said I was sitting on a pot of gold. Apparently, the price of tamarind had sky rocketed to more than Rs100/kg. This was real news. My big tamarind tree would fetch me a solid five to ten thousand rupees - for sure. Wonder what Rani would say? Did I not mention that Rani- the young and luscious - would often come to share the shade of my tamarind tree? I was considered a lazy bone (not that Rani ever complained) and Rani a good match. What would her parents say if I wore my white veshti and visited them with a box of sweets, and a saree for Rani?  So, without a second thought, I let my slick city friend find me a tamarind contractor and counted my money. After much haggling we settled for rupees six thousand three hundred, although he walked off with more than a hundred kilos of tamarind. Not once did I think of my ghost neighbors, how they would feel, what they would eat - not until much later.

My money and generosity worked its charm on Rani's amma and appa. Rani and I wed, and she accompanied me back home. That night, Rani shed her wedding clothes and joined me under the cover. She was beautiful and I was young. I turned and took her in my arms and kissed her lips deeply - an intense sour taste of tamarind filled my mouth. I pulled back, looked at her in horror and with a scream jumped out of the  bed and ran out in darkness - till I reached the tamarind tree. There I collapsed.

Story of a Lilly

A few years back I acquired a Lilly bulb and buried it in soil in my front yard. It took a couple of years for it to grow, mature, and flower..clumps of white flowers, fragrant, burst forth at ends of light green proud stalks.

A few years later the plant had multiplied and transformed into a gigantic clump of many joint Lillies, holding each other tight - like a family. They took over my tiny space, blocked sunlight for plants growing under, and squeezed out root space for other plants - they proliferated, profusely, mindlessly, uncaring of the others that I was also trying to raise. So, one fine day, this monsoon, I decided it was time for change, and deliberately pulled the giant Lilly clump out...then I chucked it hard and far to the end of the yard. It lay there on its side, a sad, sorry family of a once proud Lilly family. I would encounter it every day as I walked out with my bucket of washed clothes to dry them on the clothesline. Initially, I was very sorry, and decided that I would gather up the bulbs and replant them, so they could again live and make their own, new families. But somehow, the leisure for this act, that I sincerely wished, never came. I was callous, careless, and forgot in every moment of free time. Soon, I even stopped noticing this clump, lying pitifully on its side.

Then one day, I noticed that the clump was no longer lying on the side. It had, with great energy, pushed itself, upright, and towards light. I thought " Good - but maybe I should move it to a better spot.." - that also never happened. Yesterday, I discovered, it had shot forth a light green fleshy stalk and there was a bud at the end of it. I rejoiced and blogged about it.

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.

Inspiration

I belong to a Bangalore e-group called 'HasiruUsiru' that actively works towards preserving Bangalore's natural heritage which include lakes, tanks, trees. I am a pretty passive member-but I am glad to keep informed about the onslaught of large development projects in the city and the heavy environmental price that we, as citizens, pay for this progress. I met Arun through one such mailing - his mail announced that he had tree saplings to give away to people that wanted them. I responded and then awaited the promised Jamun and Bel saplings that I could plant near home and farm.

The other day Arun came home bearing these saplings. He looked regular, spoke the normal middle class tongue, sat with us and shared a cup of tea. It is during the course of this conversation that I discovered something rare - a spark of real passion, commitment, and a willingness through small action to dream big dreams - infact, a spark enough to inspire a few jaded us. Arun said that he was sick of watching the trees being killed in the city - but there was no point just sitting around complaining, cursing - so he has decided to plant one tree for every day of the year and to this end, he gathers seeds, germinates them, nurtures them into sturdy saplings and then gives it away to anyone who has space to grow them. He also dreamt of a city, a world, which would be very different if each of us planted one tree for every day we lived.
Arun neither preached, nor bragged - he was just sharing a dream.

I was stunned. Here was a living inspiration that had come to my doorstep, bearing a gift of his dreams...and baby trees.

I am glad that my New Year begins thus.

An Unusual Art exhibition in Bangalore

Wonders never cease! Just when you are getting accustomed to a feeling of jaded age, of becoming crusty, thick skinned, hard, as if nothing can reach your core, or maybe you have lost a core that cares, Wham!! a life's surprise knocks you off your feet , throws you staggering back, penetrates all those protective layers that experience has clothed you in, to restart an inner melt down....

Today, Bangalore hosts an unusual art exhibition by Animisha Nagnur. For about a two kilometer stretch from the Sadashivnagar police station to Ramiah College, on the new BEL road, canopied on both sides and along its entire length by giant, old, trees, are life size figures of humans, cutout on cheap brown paper, hands wide spread, hugging these trees....some in profile, some with their backs to us, these simple images are strong, powerful reminders of our deep, strong connectedness to trees and the natural world - lifelines of our existence. Most of these images also carry messages to inspire us, make us aware, care, shake our apathy, to protect the existence of those, that keep us existing. Its not surprising, the kind of public response these childish cut outs are inspiring; pedestrians, cycles, motorcycles, autos, cars are stopped along the way, people pondering in silence, viewing in wonder-a sight of men hugging trees- thats it - in fact, just a brown paper cutout of men hugging trees. This exhibition is strongly evocative and timely reminder of the famous Chipko movement in northern India when people literally 'stuck' themselves to trees, to prevent large scale destructions of their forests.

Within the current, fast paced and out-of-control growth and development of Bangalore, trees are the first victims, to be replaced by mazes of flyovers, glittery malls, parking lots. While a large fraction of Bangalore's populace welcomes these changes, and ignores the price with which we pay for it, this exhibition certainly provides that pause, in our speeding lives, to wonder "is the price too high?"

Thank you Animisha Nagnur for your stark message, and thank you, Hasiru Usiru, for bringing this powerful work to our attention.

Pleasure in Small Measure

I live in the residential quarters of IISc., Bangalore. Home is a ground floor apartment in a three storey building, with a small garden space, in front and back. For four to five years now, the overhead water tank has been overflowing into my backyard. Routinely, around 5pm every evening, water gushes out from terrace plumbing, flooding my garden, backyard, completely, waterlogging, stagnating, breeding mosquitoes. A variety of complaints have been made, letters written, problem reported over these last several years. Still, we await Peter to usually ride out here on his rickety cycle, unlock the door to the machine room, and turn off the motor-then after all the accumulated water on the terrace has emptied out, the flow stops, till the next day.

Now, I have watched, fretted, fumed, cursed, barked, yelled, screamed at this horrible wastage, till I have turned hoarse, sullen, silent, accepting, and then quietly watching this daily drama. Over years, a new wet land ecology has slowly evolved in my yard. Irises have taken over and bloom in my marshes, anthuriums thrive, cardamom long thought dead have revived on their own and now liberally sprinkles my back yard- a pepper vine is ready for harvest.

Two days back, I had a thought - don't know why I didn't think this thought before....I decided to dig a canal system to channel water to the entire garden from this overflow. For two days I labored with digging till the back is stiff, arms are sore, and palms calloused with working big tools on hard ground. Now a circuitous canal meanders between my plants, halfway till the end
(I am taking a break today!) and yesterday evening I saw water filling and rushing past in blue curvy lines through my yard. I sat at the window, coffee in my hand, watching this in satisfaction, and pleasure, in small measure.

Admiring India Together

It is hard to describe the great satisfaction I get from reading alternative journalism presented by the 'India Together' team. It is relevant, interesting, appropriate and empowering, unlike the many other genres of written word that pass off as journalism.
Today, the article that caught my eye, made my heart skip a beat, experience a ray of hope, was on Ganesh Mallya, a part time farmer, who was able to convert, with time and persistence, his bit of dry, barren land, into a veritable jungle of food, and trees. Read more about this amazing real life story, here.

Hope and Hopeless in Varanasi

Two stories that caught my attention today are given here and here.

Coorg Diary: A Trek to Nandi Betta

In my wildest imaginations, I dream of wandering wild places, untouched or scantily touched by human presence-unspoilt, virgin landscapes of dry, golden, desert sands, dense, dark forests, high hills with round views from pinnacle, oceans turquoise to deep navy, extending to infinity.

All Coorg imaginations were green and blue, of shrouded cobalt hills, rolling lilac mists, green wet, growth, at the underfoot, besides me, around me, in my eyes, nostrils, moistness on my skin. I wanted to experience a Coorg that was non-peopled, where elephant herds roamed, wildcats ruled, a land of beasts and birds, butterflies and moths, an abundance of insect world-I wanted a forest trek.

We walked in a single file, through a narrow, beaten, barely visible path, a line of mostly strangers and I-walking a fast pace, brushing past overgrown bush, trees, ferns, stone jumping creeks, balancing logs stretched across bogs, fast, focussed, attentively moving. This was not what I had imagined, but this was real, more real, as were the leeches reaching out towards us from blades of grass, leaves, an occasional branch, ever present, ready, in their bid for survival, to grab warm blood, to suck, to live and propagate. We walked in a voiceless file, with brushes made of a particular tree bark, to flick away the suckers at every rock surface we stepped on;pausing anywhere else was out of question. And, we climbed as we walked, in short steep stretches, slippery in a wet, shiny, clayey way till the trees thinned out to tall grass and flowers, only blue-purple flowers on round bushes, all around, everywhere the eye fell. The ceiling had changed from overhanging many tiered trees and was now a dark, leaded sky-a feeling of space, our smallness, till we were at the edge-of the world. A ledge looking into a blanket, a blankness of being the sky-rolling fluff around, colorless, moist on us, and soft series of gray beyond...we were on Nandi Betta.

First things first, immediately unlacing the shoes, removing the socks, checking if the suckers had got to our insides-most of us had escaped unharmed. Tentative exploring the ledge, the edge, peering to view the beyond. A small fire to the rain gods, for the rains have been less, or should be more, to help the farmers. Huddling around, soft conversation, quiet bantering, some snacks. Then the clouds clear-we view Eden across - steep mountains, thickly forested-Brahmagiri National Park. Silver vertical lines glitter unbelievably, three waterfalls.A white river snakes below in a deep ravine, viewed in bits and pieces between torn clouds, for a glimpse, now there, now gone, of paradise lost.

I Vote Non-Nuclear

India is on the verge of committing to a US alliance to meet its ever growing energy needs with nuclear power. I have been loosely following the very active and acrimonious public debate between the left and the center about both the value of nuclear energy in the Indian context, and also the US dependence that is necessary to push the deal forward.

I have wondered, at the same time, about my personal stance, if any, on the subject.

As has frequently happened to me in the past, yesterday, I encountered a real life situation, that
resolved my position on the much wider nuclear issue-at least in the Indian context. I was returning home after a long overdue visit to my farm. The day at the farm had been particularly satisfying-as usual, Muniamma's averseness to active labor had ensured that the farm was once again an Eden of weeds-butterflies danced, birds swung on tall grasses, tiny flowers played hide and seek-of course the mango, chikoo, jamun, gooseberry saplings were also choked with weeds which had to be cleared. The day was hot, bright, and very quiet-also very clean-no sight of plastics, garbage, filth, that are routine parts of our daily urban life.

I reached IISc. (Indian Institute of Science), a premier science institute of national importance, where I reside-happy again to be in its green environment and relative quietness, after a messy, long commute on public transport. There I once again encountered a sight that is a common part of our life here. A rag picker was going through the large garbage collection station, near the engineering departments, scavenging for things of value that could be sold outside. She was old, bent, and was going through the waste with her bare hands. Instead of moving on, as usual, I stopped this time-the garbage that she was going through were not the usual plastic wrappers, cartons, thermocols, but brown glass bottles of chemicals, glass specimen disks and, by and large,
lab wastage that had been disposed with regular garbage. Some of the glass containers were broken, liquid spilt in a mess that she was walking through-no footwear. I passed through, as did hoardes of faculty, staff, students...we have all learnt to turn a blind eye-to our own filth. I mentioned this incidence to my husband-he told me he knew the woman I was speaking of by sight-he had even stopped once and given her a pair of gloves.

What I encountered, is not about individual incidence, a solitary small act of kindness - but endemic to the society as a whole - we the people, refuse to acknowledge our waste, let alone deal with it. Maybe, the evil fingers of entrenched class and caste distinction percolate to our present day, developed, educated, psyche to silently accept barbaric practices of letting the 'non-people' handle our waste-human, plastic, toxic, hazardous.

There are far wider consequences to this common place incidence from yesterday-if a premier, scientific, community like IISc cannot, or will not, appropriately handle its chemical and possibly toxic waste-how can we as a nation of loose laws, and looser enforcements, rampant corruption,
expect to handle, safely, by products of nuclear energy. We have absolutely no credibility, historically, for ever dealing with issues of either safe guarding our environment, or our people,
from wastages of our speedy rush towards development. The regulations that safeguard the individual and national interests of the developed nations are missing- entirely - in India. In fact, we have proved, to be non-discriminatory towards our own self interest-we import hazardous wastes, by ship loads, from the same developed worlds that want to safe guard personal interests, and are now offering alliance for our energy needs, future progress.

So, as an individual citizen, who must hold a considered opinion, voice a viewpoint, maintain an individual claim to a side - I side with no-nuclear, for the energy future of India.

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.

Small is Beautiful

World is being divided along lines of class, race, gender, resources-and water is foremost amongst the disappearing resource over which next set of battles will be fought. In this climate, there are still lighthouses, beacons that shine in dark, hopes pinned on individual beams of light-here is an example of small individual action, with potential for enormous, wide scale tranformation-and a hope to avert wars.

Capturing Infinity

Last week, I decided to capture Infinity. I went in search of a bait to lure her. I had to walk far and wide till I came across a drying pond, full of black sticky clay, dark water, large jade leaves with suspended water crystals, and blossoms of thousand petaled lotus. I saw that the large blue Infinity overhead had been curious, and had visited this rare sight, only to be captured. She must have struggled hard-and finally escaped; bits of her still clung on to this tired, aging pond. I had found my bait.

I gathered bits of the jades, the pinks, and sticky clay to hold her down. I went home and found a large pot, gold and gray, a container for grains, and now water. I filled it up and set the trap carefully-the jades floated again, the pinks beckoned with a thousand waves, crystals clambered up the new surfaces, glinting in the sun. I saw Infinity approach, peek, and then settle in. She now has another home- she plays hide and seek with the rolling crystal drops, changes her colors, moods - she sometimes invites clouds and stars, sunrises and sunsets here. She comes and goes as she pleases, but at least for now- she is amused with her new home, and has decided to stay.

Crappy Energy

Its been about a decade since I took a serious interest in biogas as a viable alternative, for cheap and local energy source, to meet the urgent and growing energy needs of a developing nation like India. The idea was appealing - to convert waste organic matter into energy and digested slurry- a good fertiliser for reuse in agriculture based systems. At that time, most attention was directed towards turning farm and food waste to producing biogas for cooking and heating purposes. I had encountered only one bio-digester in Bangalore, set up specially to treat human waste for a slum district within the city. This had been done using financial and technological support of a European nation in alliance with a local NGO. While the system was operational, I felt that the set up cost, and the corresponding energy generated, did not tally up to an attractive enough prototype for further duplication or benefit.

Recently, a friend's appeal re-ignited that interest and I spent this morning searching the net for current status of biogas digesters - technological advances, and operational costs. A google search showed up the usual meta-zillion entries including sufficient numbers of commercial providers of bio-digesters for community to family size usages. Further more, human crap definitely featured as a usable source for energy generation with claims that waste from a family of four could sustain their cooking and lighting needs via biogas generation. Of particular interest for India, was the entry of Sintex Industries into the alternative energy market, with ready-to-use bio-digesters. While the affordibility of such units is still an issue for majority of Indian householders, long term energy, economic, and health benefits, far off-set the initial financial costs, making biogas a desirable option for residential communities, health care units, educational facilities. Further details on the subject can be read here.

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?

On Grasses and Lawns

In my mindscape, grasses are albums of drives across the US through its prairyland of golden down; of Indian winter scenes viewed from train rides of tall tawny grasses with billowy white tufts; of burgundy silk topping golden straws, swaying under the music of the perched sunbirds. Grasses recall crystal dripping monsoon willows lighted up by an occasional ray; walks through the Indian wastelands with a staff, pushing through grasses that brush shoulders- grasses in shades of gold, brown, jade, emerald, violet, purple, silver,light to deep-wild, free, varied, abundant-grasses being just themselves-zen grasses, absolutely essential within nature's complex web.

Yet, within the domesticated, urbanised, educated, cultured world of modern man, grass recalls lawns, resplendant, smooth, even, mutated, hybridised, hardied to the ravages of human civilisation, rolled up in sheets, laid out over rubble, concrete, harmone fed to ensure uniform, subdued growth, even color tones, flooded with hose pipes or to time schedules of a rotating sprinkler systems, shorn, shaved, trimmed to perfection to provide that worthy floor for a priviledged foot- in ultimate conquest of man over nature-subjugated, humiliated, defeated.

On the Wilder Side-in Bangalore

Last weekend, Aranyam, Bangalore, hosted a three day film festival with documentaries covering a host of topics ranging from global climate change,species extinction,wild life preservation efforts. It was an amazing effort pulled off by a group of young, energetic,motivated wild life enthusiasts from the city. The films unanimously sounded dire warnings about the rampant human domination over the natural world, current fraility of our entire eco system, threatening its very survival and consequently our own future at the top of the species pyramid.

I have come away from this three day 'necessary' shock treatment with a sense of foreboding, heavy heart and a need to attempt a more pro-active role-to don an environmental cap. Accompanied with these more obvious responses, there has been an under current of unease and discomfort that I am only now coming to acknowledge. It seemed that the burden of these 'unsavoury' human activities were by and large firmly deposited at the doors of the lesser priviledged, marginalised populations of habitants more directly dependent on natural resources for survival and also more threatened by their depletion. Is it really their burden- that they dont poach, fell trees, clear habitats to eke out a meagre subsistence? or are the larger forces that have marginalised them by laying roads, blasting mines, submerging entire valleys by dam-ing waterways, and depleting resources done more damage?

Who are the benifitters of these human developments?? If the poachers along the Indian waterways smuggle thousands of tons of river turtles to Asian markets, then its the economically priviledged that consume the turtles at the other end -who drive this trade. The man at the bottom of the ladder might only make enough to barely feed his family.So, how come the 'poor' get appointed to safekeep our natural heritage? And what is the burden of the priviledged, educated, urbanised, resource consuming?