The Charge of the Light Brigade

This one was a favourite when in school. After a long, very long time, I read it again. This one stands out......... why ? Read on.

Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!
"Charge for the guns!" he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

"Forward, the Light Brigade!"
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Someone had blunder'd:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.

Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air,
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel'd from the sabre stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made,
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred.

The Art of getting things done by others

This is again an experience blog. In our everyday interaction with people, we see a few who just get things done by others. Meaning, work to be done by themselves, but they are so capable, shrewd and arrogant enough that they get it done by others and pass it on as what they did.

And when you discuss such people, most will tell you that one day they will make good managers. I would say, "All the more dangerous!" and "Managers" - no, they are not managers. So, I googled to find if something has been written about this. And lo, I got a hit that gave me this:

MANAGEMENT IS the art of getting things done by others and remuneration is sharing a pittance of the whole chunk of returns earned by the subordinate employees and profit is what the company ultimately stands for. And the employees in the lower rungs of the hierarchy are the ones who bail out the company when the latter is in distress. Altogether, it is called business management. (No, that is not right, but still I read on.)

Who is a manager in real terms? He is the one who sees that his work gets involved with the work of his team so that the objective of the office is realised, whether it is a project implementation or meeting a sales target or winning a few percentages in the market share. It is the art of channeling diverse manpower through a common stream as to reach a particular goal. In this collective effort, the team leader is as important as every other team-player and every other team player is no less important than the team leader. (Thank god...)

Yes, it is the art of getting things done. But not simply getting them done by others............,

So, now, what do you call a person who gets his/her own work done by others ? A Manager ??? No...........

But then, that is what it has become today. Companies look for someone who they say is a team player, but the person who usually gets there is one who is good at getting work done by his subordinates, by knowing how to keep them merry and passing the work as his own with not even a mention about his subordinates. This despite the universe knowing that work does not happen because of one person in any organization.

And everyone has come across atleast such one in their lives. And, despite hitting their heads over such a person, not many would put them in their place. So, they grow, in their own self importance to become managers one day. Because, we let them become one. By calling a bully, a manager.

Numaish

Last sunday I had been to Numaish - the exhibition held every year at Nampally, Hyderabad in the months of January and February. I generally don't like crowds and this has been the prime reason that I avoid crowded shopping places including exhibitions. So, what makes me go to Numaish ? Of course, I went well before the crowd could come in and was out just as it was getting crowded. But still, I wondered as to what attracted me to this place, every year that I have been in Hyderabad.

Answer - 'History' is what brings me to this place. Numaish was started by the seventh Nizam, Mir Osman Ali Khan in 1938. Then, it was called the 'Numaish Masnuaat-e-Mulki'. It was meant to display goods produced indigenously in the Hyderabad state. Today, even Numaish has gone global with people from across the country and even outside coming to sell things. So, as per tradition, every year, Numaish returns for a 45 day rendezvous with the people of Hyderabad.

I keep thinking that I am traversing the same, though at a different age. I walk in and I try to understand, to smell the oldness of the event. I try to imagine what it must have been during the reign of the Nizam, one of the richest men in the world.

Imagine, men in their sherwanis, women decked in all their finery coming to buy the best produce from the state - pearls, gems, clothes, handicrafts and other items of everyday use. Bargaining and selling would have been the norm then too I guess. So, I go to Numaish trying to relive in my own way the glory of the Nizam era and also in my own small way, to continue the tradition, to keep it alive.

We entered around 2:00 p.m., well in advance of the 3:00 p.m. actual opening time. Believe me, the hour before the exhibition is the best; for me, even better than the actual, for it is then that one gets to see the people, the work they put in, their lives. The people who come to sell their wares live in the Numaish grounds, in their stalls. Though not as alive when the crowd is in, the time before the exhibition starts, gives an insight into the preparations done for the actual event that stretches to midnight, everyday. So, at 2:00 in front of almost every stall, one of the members had started a fire and was cooking rotis and curry. The others were busy trying to put the items on display.

Yes, I do make rotis. But as I watched this man deftly making rotis, I was transfixed. I stood there for few moments unable to look away. That simple act of him making rotis was so original, so captivating. In that, I saw life - the life of every salesman part of Numaish. He maybe from a faraway place, living by selling his wares. He sees thousands pass by, interacts with them, tries to make them happy by selling his wares at the best price. In the bigger scheme of things, he is invisible. But, he is important. He is the present of Numaish, like me. Tomorrow, we may be gone, but both of us have been an important part of history, for it is we who make Numaish what it is. He looked up at me and for a moment had a quizzical look. Then, he smiled. I was a little embarassed but then, I guess he understood. I believe he read my thoughts.

We think we are individuals, independent. But we are all connected, somewhere, someway in the bigger scheme of things. We may not know each other, we may not even remember that out paths crisscrossed, we may not know that we have traded something with someone else, be it in a kind act, or selling a product. We think we are random beings in this world. But then, sometimes a small, unimportant event makes you realize that you are part of a whole, a whole you can only imagine, but can never see nor comprehend completely.

The Thirst for Knowledge

Today, in the process of a conversation with a friend, I learnt again the meaning of the phrase 'Thirst for Knowledge'. This friend of mine, from a faraway distant land, doing her Ph.D. here, showed a passion for her country, for herself to be come something, for learning : something that is missing a little nowadays in me. She spoke of her travails here, of how she landed in the university and how she is happy and loves it here. When I said that I am unhappy that I am far away from home, she showed me the positive side. That we are here to study and we are gaining knowledge; and that is reason to be happy and keep smiling. Well, so true. Like my dad always told us, 'Knowledge is the one and only treasure that no robber can rob from you; acquire it as much as possible and you will only grow'.

In this colleague who I hardly meet, I found a quality that is becoming so rare in us citizens of this country as well as in most of us human beings. PASSION - passion in everything we do.

Hats off to you my friend. Keep going !

Captured in the mind

Usual morning habit of going out on the terrace to brush my teeth. To see birds, to breath in the fresh air, to be one, with nature. Those moments in the morning are the best in my day which is otherwise spent in the confines of concrete, glued to a chair and forced to watch the screen.

So, this morning, I was pleasantly surprised. There were three birds, all Chemboth's. The crow pheasant is what they are called in English. I saw one on a tree and heard the song of another. A moment later, one more joined. So, two on a tree and still another was singing. Then came along a third and another was singing still. Happy to see so many of them at one go, I watched them as I was brushing my teeth. Finished brushing my teeth and reality hit me. I was late in going to that messy mess to get my breakfast. Already eight, I would have to wait for half an hour to get my breakfast before getting ready to go to work. So, off I went thanking for the beautiful vision in the morning.

And in this eternal hurry of getting earthly things, I forgot that one thing - to capture this rare moment where I could see three of the Chemboth's on camera; a sight as these shy birds always are seen hidden in the branches of trees, entertaining those who care to listen with their beautiful songs. So, I lost it. Lost it in the hurry that man is today, having so little time to see all the beauty him.

Living in this jungle, I wonder how I am going to adapt to the concrete when I finish the PhD and get back to work. Of how unpleasant it would be to wake up only to see walls all around. Uffa !

I'm going to miss this university - yes for the people, but more for the beauty she holds, the magic she shows to those who care to take a moment off.

Bondage, of the Mind

I was born
Not by choice
But by incident
Of two consenting individuals.
They bring me up
Reminding me of bondage
Everytime I falter
As does the zamindar to the labourer.

They were pledged in the womb
Not of their making
For debt to be repaid
Forever and ever.
Same it is here
The debt being of carriage
Of bearing for nine months
Forever and ever.

Like the labourer
I knew not when I stepped out
That this would be my lot
That this would be my life.
So, I ask myself
Did I ask to be carried
Did I pray for her pain
Then, how am I to be blamed ?

Every time I flap my wings
To check the current
This one line rings always
On the recorder.
Physical bondage is better
To emotional bondage I concur
For the pain is only of the body
And not so much of the mind.

So, I pledge my childhood
But, that's not enough
So, try with my youth
But, the cup doesn't fill
So, I go through with my middle age
To be told that her end would be soon
And that I am free after that
But then, so would be mine.

My childhood plucked away
My youth nipped in the bud
My adulthood compromised
My middle age passes by
And then a promise of freedom
Of living my life the way I want
Of making my own decisions.

So, I look at myself in the mirror
With my new found freedom
My skin wrinkled
My hair gone grey
My bones cracking
My eyes have lost their shimmer
My dreams dying o'er twice
Of life that never was.

This life I finally realize
Is one of bondage
Bondage not necessarily physical
But also of the mind.
The cord that bound
Though cut physically
Is never lost
For mankind in the mind.


("I bore him for nine months, the pain and sleepless nights. But see what I get in return". I have heard this line repeated by mothers. This poem is to those children, children with lost childhoods, youth with silent dreams, adulthood with lost dreams. To the pain, unseen, unknown.......

Well, after reading, Arun suggested that I end it on a happy note, with hope, with life. So, )

I feel the tug
Of my shirt
Turn around, and there she stands
My little darling
My dreams, my hope
And I know, that my dreams are alive
That freedom will be hers
To choose her own path
To light her own trail.

Ctrl-Z

There are a few common things any person using computers knows. Cut & Paste and Ctrl-Z & Ctrl-Y. We use it without even thinking twice, especially the Cut & Paste.

Ask a teacher about assignments submitted by students - there is so much that is Cut & Paste from the net, that sometimes even links like 'Back', 'Next' are part of the assignment. It is what can be called a necessary devil. We can't do without it, but still, it annoys us when we can decipher where it has been used.

So is Ctrl-Z. Coding, coding, I came to a point, where I couldn't pinpoint what I had done to introduce a bug to an otherwise perfectly working software. After trying a lot of reasoning, I decided against my better judgement to use Ctrl-Z. My previous usage of Ctrl-Z was disastrous and hence, had decided to use Ctrl-Z as a last option, when left with nothing.

So, I did it, like when you play solitaire or free cell and come to a point when it says "No more moves". After a number of Ctrl-Z, when it felt confident that a point of no errors was reached, the decision was made to stop. For with so many Ctrl-Zs I had no idea by then what I had changed, given my limited RAM(that's my brain) and no linked-list technology to remember the string of changes with its implications. Confidently saved, and when I did execute, it was a point so far away from where I was actually, that I thanked the creators for having the foresight to create a Ctrl-Y, for cases like mine.

So, finally am back to square one with a promise once again to myself that I will not use Ctrl-Z. Except of course, for solitaires and free cell. Definitely, not for code.

Kahlil Gibran on Children - how apt

The other day, Arun told me about having to submit marks of students after evaluation at the earliest. Okay, that is normal. They will be sent to their parents....... now, that got me wondering. Post graduate students, and their marks were being sent home to their parents. At 22, they are adults. They take the decision of electing the Prime Minister of the country and here you speak about sending their marks home. I can only see it in one of these ways:
1. A school or college is supposed to help a student learn to handle his life: make decisions, account for those decisions and take responsibility too for the results, good or bad. And you can't do that by absolving yourself of your share of duties, by putting the onus on the parents.
2. Minimum age of a student when he comes for a post graduate course is 21. Treat him like one.
3. Parents are important. But, taking a grownup man or woman to his parents over something as simple as mid-term tests is difficult to understand. Speak to him/her. Help them manage their life, show them the future, help them decide what they want.

When Arun sent me the lines of Kahlil Gibran, I thought of how apt they were.

On Children -- Kahlil Gibran

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

Raja Ravi Varma

Why should I turn to Michaelangelo and Da Vinci when I have a master back home ?

Raja Ravi Varma - prince among painters and a painter among princes........

http://www.cyberkerala.com/rajaravivarma/


One of my favourites...........





Watch particularly the lady from Kerala. It shows the dressing style across his lifetime - history through paintings........

It's a cruel world

There are many sports played around the world - the word 'sport' means to encourage, to instill, to entertain, a means to inculcate good values and the right spirit (according to me).

But then, take a look at these:










The life of the horses and bulls that fight in Spain, the Calderon dolphins in Denmark, the dolphins in Japan and similar cases is hell. Why ? Because there is one selfish being on earth, MAN.

And the worst part is that these countries, the so called developed nations, where this is being practised, go around the world, preaching to the developing and under developed nations, about global warming, the need to conserve and protect flora and fauna.

Not that they are not right. But then, they need to look at their own backyard before they preach about cleaning up someone else's.

In countries like mine, where a large percentage of population lives close or below the poverty line, the fight for resources is being waged every minute, every second. The denudation of forests to make way for human beings is culminating in man-animal conflicts like never before. Still, we are trying. For being an agricultural country, we realize the death of our forests means our own death; it means less rainfall and therefore lesser production of grain and livelihoods lost. Global warming has affected us a lot especially this year with drought. We support the need to reduce carbon emissions. But then find, that the ed countries are not ready to share the burden. Rather, they are happy preaching on how to do it here.

Go to the developed nations, and you will find vehicles that guzzle gas, being driven singularly for 2-3 hours easily every morning and evening by office goers. In India, most people travel by public transport. One, most of us can ill afford it and with the traffic being so high, people prefer travelling by a two wheeler as opposed to a four wheeler. There is the awareness that global warming is harming us. That we need to clean up. The people, government and the courts are doing it by protecting the forests, removing fuming industries and also locating them outside cities. Similar about the matter of cruely to animals. Animal slaughter in the name of offerings continues but then, is being vehemently opposed too. Similar with the Jalikattu (bull fighting Indian style) which is facing stiff opposition mostly from the people of the state where the practice exists. There is greater awareness today than ever before and people are standing up.

I remember the time, when a bull that was pulling a heavily loaded cart fell on the road. Such was the sight that people who saw it got together and beat up the man who did it, before handing him over to the police. He might have got off with a warning and a fine, but the beating will stay in his mind forever. That man would never dare put another animal in that condition ever again. That awareness is definitely there with us who still live close to mother earth with her other children, for we are not totally mechanized.

Hope we continue with what our culture has given us - of considering all animals equal to ourselves and that we are born with a duty to protect. That reminds me, in Hinduism, every person according to his birth star has a tree and an animal or bird. The purpose is that he will protect that tree and animal and cause no harm. (Mine is the karimaram and the peacock). That way, conservation happens. Hope we go back and relearn.

In search of a Jean

Jeans are long term wear - meant to be worn till they wear and tear, and after the wear and tear too - for that is fashion. So, being three years old, I thought it is time I move over to a new one, having worn mine every other day. So, with my husband, who was more enthusiastic than me in buying me one, the search for the right jean started.

The requirement: a high-waist (preferable) or mid-riff jean with tapered cut. One shop after another, they told me that they had only low waist jeans. Not even mid-riff. Request for a high waist jeans got me looks of wonder, making me feel like Kumbhakarna who wakes up once in a year, with no knowledge of developments in between. Of course, the last time too I faced a little trouble finding one that I liked, but then I found one here in Hyderabad, and one in Bombay, one high waist and another midriff.

So, try we did in four places, selling branded jeans and then gave up. Of course, I tried the low waist ones. They weren't just low, they were very low. After having wondered seeing people wear them, now I wondered how they were confident of it not sliding down.

Whatever happened to the high waist jeans, I wonder. Okay, most youngsters wear low waist ones. They reveal the skin and more at the back, and they are so comfortable with them. No probs. But, what about those who would like to wear a high waist one ? No chance.

Got back and googled (Google is God!) for places in Hyderabad selling jeans. And I found a page with chat messages. And lo! one of them had called the high-waist jeans 'Aunty jeans'. Oh boy, I thought, have I grown so old ? Am I to be classified into the aunty group just because I prefer to wear a high waist jean ? What is it about ? Fashion or only 17 being young ? I know not.

Whatever, I prefer the high waist. Call me aunty or granny or great granny - whatever you like. It is not a matter of age, in the head nor body, it is a matter of comfort. Of what you think you look decent and good in.

Home is University of Hyderabad

As is my usual habit, I walk out on to the terrace at the Research Scholars Hostel, to brush my teeth. Early morning is the most beautiful part of the day. The warm rays of the sun, the sight of varied birds, dancing and singing, ushering in a new day. I walk around the terrace trying to see them. Most days, it is the Mynas and the Red Vented Bulbul. Others, the Parrot and the Peacock. Some other days, I get to see a whole lot of sparrows, the Little Green Bee-eaters. Rare is the Woodpecker and the Kingfisher. The birds that make me smile the most are the sparrows: they fly here and there, twittering, chattering and chirping..... and it makes me happy. It is an affirmation of the healthy environment in the university for they are first to disappear if the environment is polluted.

But, thursday, when I was down walking the corridor leading to the terrace, I realized that the song of the birds was different. They were singing but a different song, set to a different tune. As I was wondering why and about to step on to the terrace, heard a thud. Still waking up from the deep night slumber, I jumped. Then, another thud. Turned to the right, and there, two huge monkeys, were walking. They had jumped from the upper terrace of the lower one. They didn't care that I was standing there staring at them (couldn't help it - I was still to completely wake up). They had that attitude of ruling the world. I liked that. After climbing the parapet wall of the terrace, they jumped to the branch of the Bear fruit tree. And lo, there were more on the tree. As I brushed, I watched them choose the fruits. And then understood the reason for the birds song being different.

Thursday started very well. I was close again, to nature. Happy to see the monkeys and the birds. Happy to hear their song. The little pleasures of life but so sweet. Only in University of Hyderabad. I thank everyday, that I am in this university with 1500 acres, having two lakes, large forest cover, rather than a university in the heart of the concrete jungle.

Independence Day '09 at Topslip

This Independence Day, we decided to spend trekking quietly in the forests at Topslip. Beautiful, untouched forests - the need to protect them, the flora and fauna, is all that I can think of. Yes, sometimes I think that I am trespassing uninvited to someone else's home. But, I love being there. Yes, I am a human being, I am selfish. My happiness comes first. But we do take care not to horn anywhere in the jungle, not to litter, not to talk, not to disturb. And I hope that the trees and animals there feel my need to connect with them. I give them so little, but what I get from them is something immeasurable, unfathomable. One trek in the forest, and I live on that high for months. It cleanses my brain, my being, frees my thoughts, pulls down the chains. I feel free, like a bird in the forest. It makes me feel so small, that I understand my position in the bigger scheme of things - my place in the lap of Mother Nature. I am so happy in that lap.

For you people, who have taken time to visit my blog, these pictures are to share the beauty I saw. Topslip is one of the last bits of pristine forestland left in India. Part of the Western Ghats, this stretch of tropical forest is home to the Tiger, the Elephant, the Panther, the sloth Bear, the Sambhar deer, the Spotted deer, the Giant Squirrel, the Teak and Rosewood trees, the innumerable birds and insects. They all have one home. The forests. And their only enemy today, is mankind. There is need to understand the importance of such forests and help in the fight to preserve them against ourselves, mankind, for future generations. There is need to learn to coexist, like the tribals who live deep inside the forest.

To the Wildlife wardens, the guide, the staff at Topslip, the tribals, thanks for making this Independence Day, one we will remember forever. To people thinking of visiting Topslip as a picnic point, the forests are not picnic points. They are someone else's home. They are open to you but treat it with respect. They are treasure troves, willing to show us the bounty, if only we will see it, not through a prism, but with our own eyes.