What's it between monkeys and dogs ?

Last sunday evening, coming out of the department, I found a pack of four dogs, barking and trying to climb up the tree. I looked up and there were two monkeys on the tree. No, don't sympathize with the monkeys as yet. They were no less. One of them, was fooling around jumping from one branch to another or by coming halfway down the tree just to get the dogs a little more agitated. And there was another one, breaking away the dried up and small branches and flinging at the dogs barking below with precision. This went on till the dogs got tired of it and went a distance away to rest.




The monkey waited for sometime and after fifteen minutes, when the dogs showed no interest, got bored I guess. He came down the tree and sat on the ground. Still, the dogs showed no interest. So, he chattered a bit, getting the dogs attention. The dogs got ready for the charge. And when they were nearly there, he shot up the tree and they, the twosome returned back to their old tricks. This went on for how long, I know not for I realized that either side would not give up. So, I clicked a few photos and then went my way.



Cycling down the roads, where trees other than the neem, peepal and tamarind stand lifeless I remembered my most loving dog, Michael. There was a Jamun tree at home, with a branch that was low. This was a huge piece of land where my dad indulged in his passion for the bovine and the canine. Michael was young and he was loved by us as well as all the cows. They even let him drink milk from them.

One day came a former self of the type homo sapien, a monkey. He had a long, long tail. Michael immediately set himself the task of guarding his territory. The monkey wouldn't budge and started playing. He lay down on the horizontal branch of the the Jamun and let his long tail down. Michael seeing this, calculated the height and started walking a few yards away. He started and then paced down the stretch ending with a high jump to catch the monkey's tail. At the right time, the monkey would lift his tail up with his hands and chatter, laughing at Michael. This routine went on and on till I realized that I couldn't make what they were upto. Why was the monkey putting his tail down if he didn't want it caught and why was Michael chasing when he knew that he wouldn't be able to catch it. No amount of calling out to Michael to give up worked.

Seeing the same repeated today, I again wondered, 'What's it between monkeys and dogs ?'

Life is Beautiful

I love elephants. Huge yet humble, large yet handsome, they are what you can call epitomising might without wearing it on your sleeves. One of the reasons I love going to Guruvayoor is the same. Yes, always a little sad that those who should be roaming free in the forest are chained. Thank god the temple has stopped accepting new elephants. Hope the temple thinks of acquiring land with its huge resources and making it an elephant sanctuary or adopting an elephant sanctuary. That would serve the purpose.

The below is a video of an elephant taken in the wild. He was happy standing there on the rock till we disturbed him.

Pilgrimage to Pochampally

After years of speaking about it, finally I got a chance to go to Pochampally. Yes, Pochampally, famous for her sarees. Pochampally, the place where Acharya Vinoba Bhave launced the Bhoodan movement - a land gifting movement which set the stage for land reform in India where land was owned generally by wealthy landowners at the time. He walked across India persuading landowners to part with a percentage of land to those who were of lesser means. It is an example of how one man's dream can change the world.

So, we were there, looking at the sarees handwoven by artisans and known around the world today on par with the Kanjeevarams, Benarasis and Dharmavarams. She stands there amid arid dry land, beautiful, proud and yet humble of her achievements. The pictures weave the story.

http://picasaweb.google.co.in/pgsapna.cta.cit/PilgrimageToPochampalli#

Artisans are paid Rs.10000 to weave eight sarees which are then handed back to the middle men. A saree takes 6-7 days to finish started from dying the silk yarn to making the finished product and can cost anywhere between Rs.1500 - Rs.10000. The loom itself extends to the size of a room, with the artisan sitting with a dugout trench where his legs rest working the loom. The handloom sarees woven thus find its way to many a home, enriching our lives for occassions - so many colours, so many designs, costly, simple, yet elegant.

For more, visit: http://exploreruralindia.org/Pochampally.php

My friend bloomed

My friend, she who listens to my non-stop thoughts, my chatter, my anxieties, my fears, who knows my happiness and sorrows, who has seen my anger so close, whom I look forward to seeing first thing in the morning when I open my eyes, who ushers in a new day for me, who helps me brighten up a sad one, has started blooming.

When I started living in the room, she was young. She hardly reached my window. In the four years since, she grew, reaching out her hand to me and my neighbours. She provides me shade from the harsh summer sun. The wind that blows through her is always cool.

I saw similar trees blooming and every time wondered when and if I will get to see my friend in bloom. Time is running out as my stay will come to an end I hope soon. There were buds and with it my hope rose. Today, when I looked out of the window, I found her first flowers, right next to my window.

My friend, is beautiful. She made my day today and will every day I know and am ever thankful for a friend like her.

Ushering summer

In this part of the world where I live, there is hardly any spring. It probably is for a week or two and then summer begins. However, this spring had a riot of colours in the university. The Tecoma trees were in full bloom. It was a lovely sight. Some pictures that capture the magic forever.

Lost is my canopy

After four years, I looked forward to my road trip from Coimbatore to Trichy, especially the Karur-Trichy part. Lined with huge, old tamarind trees providing a natural canopy, it has been my favourite since I was a kid. I loved the way the trees raised their arms to cheer up the weary traveller by providing shade and beauty at the same time. Some of the trees would have been a hundred years old. For those who walked these roads or travelled on two wheelers the natural canopy protected them, especially from the fury of the summer sun. Oh, what a delight it was to travel on that stretch ? Many a time, a tender coconut had in the shade of the trees from a wayside vendor, the wind blowing soft accompanied by the chirping of the birds, tasted like elixir. And then, the friendly banter of travelers, who meet but just for a few minutes. That conversation, so little, so simple, yet so important in the big scheme of life. Finally when I hit the stretch, I was horrified. Not a single tree remained. They had been cut down for widening of the highway, a project glorified by the government, a four lane to help reduce travel time. The sun hit us with all her fury, but whither my old tree friends, I searched, not a bird in sight.

What's happening to us, mankind, I wondered ? When did we become so insensitive to nature, to our many fellow beings ? I closed my eyes, and played over and over again what my mind had captured in times gone by of the beautiful road unable to accept the cruelty of the present. I ruminated on the past, its glory, its beauty and wondered if generations to come will know life as I knew it, full of beauty and understanding of other beings.

What could be done, I questioned ? What can I, a lone person do to bring back the best of the past ? I felt defeated. How could I, a single person, fight against a mighty, heartless government looking at only financial benefits unmindful of the necessity to coexist with nature. Then realization dawned. I don't need to fight them. All that was needed was plant trees, on the road side. Surely, someone in ages gone by, had planted the trees. His hard work had borne fruit and given me and many like me warmth and shade. If only I could plant trees by the side, similar to what existed, similar to what someone in ages gone by had done. Yes, there lay the answer. There lay the solution.

The story of Thimmakka and Chikkanna motivates me. They planted trees on a 4km stretch and looked after them like they were their children. Wouldn't that be possible to replicate here, I wonder ? Yes, I live far away from Trichy today. But then, we could start a project. Get people interested in the project and start planting trees. Make it a community activity. Will it work out, I know not. But try I must.

I am reminded of the old story of the collective strength of individuals. Of how, the will and strength of individuals is multiplied manifold when they stand together. And stand together, we must to continue a legacy, a legacy of good, of kindness towards ourselves and our fellow beings on earth, sowed by our ancestors. Follow the footprints and leave ours in the sands of time, to be followed by another generation.

Paid news: Type 'Academic'

The need for advertisement initially was felt by people who sold products. Companies took it to a new high with the advent of television. Nowadays, a film star or sports personality is paid in crores (1 crore = 10 million) and given the title brand ambassador. The current war among film stars is as to who gets more brand ambassadorship(that's what I call it). Anyways, coming back to the point, everything is getting advertised today. From products manufactured by big multi-nationals to oil made by your local guy.

Then there is the self advertisement kind. The first thing that comes to mind is of matrimonials. Matrimonials are endemic to this part of the world. For those who don't know what it is, I can advertise myself and get a bride or groom, marriages being arranged. So, I specify my age, occupation, religion, marital status, caste, height, weight, colour of skin to how handsome/beautiful I look and anything that is even frivolous like 'film star looks'. I remember reading an advt where the guy said 'HIV -ve' and another which said 'aristocratic lineage'. Remember, India did away with monarchy in 1947, but some as they say still live in the stone ages. It amuses me no end and is my favourite pass time on sundays. I always wonder what 'aristocratic lineage' means and amuse myself thinking that maybe his forefathers were the kings cooks, dhobis or carpenters(please, take no offence, but I can never rein in my wild imagination. Maybe I should have a post on this ...... shall think about it.)

After that came advertisements of people who wanted to be employed. They found it a good way to find a job by advertising themselves. Sometimes, however I got the notion that they were boasting like some of those in the matrimonial section.

Then came elections and politicians as you know can work beyond your imagination. They spent crores passing of paid news as news. Newspapers had columns written about these politicians as being great and saviours of mankind. No one, not even a film star would think of doing it. Politicians did.

Now, there is a new kind. The academic boasters. The education section of the paper, I always thought is a place where educational institutions (schools, colleges and universities besides coaching centers) can advertise themselves by sending a writeup about themselves. Most such concerned courses given by the institutions or school day and sports day activities.

Day before, to my amusement, I found a column speaking about how a colleague of mine was awarded a PhD. The column said that so and so was awarded PhD from this university and the work was done under the able guidance of so and so. I was first shocked. The first thought was wow, did she do great work to come in the news paper. Having just woken up, sitting and sipping my morning tea with the paper, my brains started working a little late. I then remembered that I had attended her pre-phd viva as well as part of the final viva and there was nothing exemplary or phenomenal that it would find mention in the newspaper. So, was wondering what made it to the news. Was the work implemented in some real world set up as it is rarely done. No, atleast I had not heard about it. So, then what was it that brought it to the papers.

Then I remembered the term. 'Paid news'. Advertising self. I know not what to write. I am stuck for words about this kind. I also remembered about two girls who advertised their pre-phd presentations through SMS, by sending messages glorifying themselves as those who started an unknown club attended by hardly 20 people on the whole. I laughed then and I laugh now.

Did academic greats like Einstein gain popularity by academic brilliance or through publicity. Okay, okay, not everyone can be an Einstein or an Edison. But then, even Venkatraman who got the nobel prize for Chemistry this year spoke about how work speaks. Now, now, not everyone can be Venkatraman, right. Okay, so then what do we do ? Advertise the self.

Maslow's hierarchy speaks about the needs of a human being. Man initially wants basic needs to be fulfilled. Then as he moves up the ladder, he yearns for a place in society. But he spoke about it as something you achieve by hardwork. Like what Bill Gates did and is doing. First he made money, enough for himself, then for his children, then for his retirement too. After that, he started looking at securing a place in his society, the computer world. Once he achieved that, today he looks at giving back to society and runs the foundation. He is doing it because that is what makes him happy today, not recognition but the feeling of doing something great. 'Self Actualization' as Maslow called it. No, I am not going to talk about Microsoft. So, that is the hard way and what Maslow spoke about. Forget it, I can't do that. So what do I do ? Find a shortcut. And today's shortcut to fame is, 'Self Advertising', I guess. Basking in a little limelight, even if it is self created. Am not hurting anyone, am I ? Then, what's the problem ?

But then, so many people receive a PhD. It's nothing great. Whether you learn your subject of study fully and clearly or not, one thing a researcher learns for sure is how little he knows. How his contribution did not even make a scratch. How, there is so much to learn and discover in this world. How his contribution has not helped mankind in any way. All it did was to get himself a three lettered degree which might help him get a tenure if he continues to work hard. So, then what is this all about ? Someone tell me.

Sport Quote

The game of cricket has become all pervading, bringing everything to a standstill. No, not in a good way. With students getting distracted during exams, to office goers tuned full-time to the game, besides others, it has become a nuisance, according to me. And then came the IPL with all its paraphernalia. David Lloyd, a cricketer sums up what cricket and the IPL means to the English, who invented the game(Quote courtesy: The Hindu dtd April 29,2010). They have lost interest, but we, Indians still suffer the bad after effects of colonialism. Not just us, cricket has become a sort of religion in our part of the world. Given the politics, money laundering and the match fixing scandals, it hardly can be termed a sport anymore, much to the pain of real cricket lovers. Still, a day or five lost on cricket is hardly understandable.

Dogs bark

Last evening, riding by on my bicycle, I saw stray dogs barking at a German shepherd accompanying his owner. It reminded me of another day, many years ago.

One morning (in 2001), I had just alighted from the Niligiri express from Chennai to Coimbatore, and walked down to the bus stop. As I was waiting for a bus to take me to CIT, where I stayed those days, I found a small group of stray dogs barking. They were a group of 6-7 and were in the middle of the road. I turned to find that these dogs were turning back and barking, then running again. I strained my neck a little more and lo what a site.

There they were, the police dogs, Dobermans and German Shepherds, on leash with their trainers, neatly in line, marching to perfection on their morning walk. In rows of four, they occupied one lane of the road. And march they did, unmindful of the stray dogs ahead of them, barking at them. Eyes looking straight ahead, not one of them bothered, not one of them took an inch more, not one perked their ears up or growled. They marched unmindful of the barks, unmindful of us people wide-eyed, admiring them. Such was their poise and grace. They beat the stray dogs hollow, they won our hearts.

It was a shame that I didn't have my camera. A moment lost is lost but that's why god gave us something called memory, no doubts.

Hats off to those dogs. Learnt a lesson that day. Don't get swayed by a small breeze or a wayward bark. Keep your eyes on the goal.

Hidden Admirer

I've always dreamed of writing short stories - that is, being a writer. My mom used to tell us stories when we were young. My dad still does, especially for my youngest sister and I always complain that he doesn't tell me. So, it is in me I guess because of my parents. And then, my supervisor is into writing poems. So, no lack of motivation. And finally, got down to writing one.

This is my first story. In the university, road widening work was going on. One morning, I found this girl of around 7 or 8, watching wide eyed students passing by and thought, 'She should be going to school'. Instead, she had a kid in her hand. The elders, daily wage labourers, were working nearby. The next few days, as I passed by, riding my cycle, I saw her looking at the students walking by. This story is inspired by her, those eyes.

Lying down after the meagre dinner, Rupali asked her mother, 'What's a university ?'. The contractor had informed them that evening about their shifting work to the university. 'It's a place where children go to study. You'll see tomorrow', answered her mother. Rupali couldn't sleep for long with excitement.

With sunrise, Rupali woke up, finished off the small chores and was ready to set off to the University. Walking through the gates, she was amazed to find the greenery, unseen in the city. She breathed every breath as though it were her first, taken in the smells. Her eyes were her camera. They had reached the construction site. But she hadn't seen students yet.

She found a shady tree, put the lunch basket down, helped her mother tie a cradle and put her brother in the cradle. As she rocked the cradle, she kept watching the road to see students. After a long time, she heard the sounds of laughter and the ring of cycle bells. She knew then that the students were coming.

Dressed in lovely colours, bangles, earings, watches they passed by her walking and cycling. She stood there mesimerized by the sight of them. They passed by again during lunch time and in the evening. Each time she stood there, watching their every move, their laughter making her laugh. That night she dreamed of the students.

The next day, she waited to see the students pass by. One of them, fair, beautiful, with long black hair came walking. She had blackened her eyes, and worn a red dress. Rupali had never seen a smile as beautiful before. She had never seen someone as beautiful in her village, which they left after her father's death, nor in the city. Her mother had told her once about pari's, the fairies. She felt she had finally seen one. Afternoon and evening, Rupali waited for her fairy to pass by.

Day after day, Rupali now waited. Not for the students, but for one student, the fairy. She noticed her every move, the movement of her hand, how she moved the strand of hair from her face, how she waved to friends passing bye. She noticed the fairy's bindis, nail colour, shoes and bags. She stood close by so that she could smell the wiff of the air as her fairy passed by. One evening, their eyes met. The fairy smiled at her as she walked by. Rupali felt over the world.

When she was alone, Rupali dreamt of talking to the fairy, of touching her, of feeling her wonderful clothes. She dreamt of herself going to the university one day. Yet, when the fairy walked by, she could only look at her in awe.

Days went by till one day afternoon, the contractor informed them that the next day, work is scheduled back in the city. Rupali was drowned in sadness. She knew that she wouldn'e be able to see fairy anymore. Oh how much she wanted to talk to her fairy, to touch her once. When the time came, she stood there waiting. As the fairy passed by, she could only stand there and stare. Legs failed to move, same with her mouth. She couldn't even bring on a smile. She went back to the shade under the tree, sad and forlorn. She sat there and felt like there was no tomorrow. She resolved then, that come evening, she would talk to her fairy, atleast touch her. She only hoped that her fairy would talk to her a little. And she wouldn't ask for more.

In the evening, she took her place on the road, long before time. She saw the fairy from a long distance. She could hear her heart beat for the first time. And as the fairy came close, she smiled. The dupatta of the fairy whizzed by in the breeze over her face. She touched it and held the soft cloth. She didn't know how long until, the cloth was pulled from her hand. She looked up to see her fairy, but now, those soft eyes were blazing fire. What the fairy told her she did not know. All she knew was that suddenly, the fairy had turned into a demon.

Lost Idealism

Educational institutions are the last bastions where idealism works - atleast to some extent. But now, even that is getting eroded. Rather corroded. Here, there is a continuous struggle of man vs man, stakeholder vs stakeholder.

In the current scenario, workers are fighting for their rights to better lives on the issue of promotions which have not existed for they say decades. It is a justifiable reason to protest if it is indeed so, for man's need to move higher, in terms of monetary benefits, position....(according to Maslow's hierarchy). But in this quest, they loose sight of the surroundings, and that is where the cause becomes unjustified. Work to be done by them has come to a screeching halt for the past three weeks, causing problems in basic sanitation and maintenance. This causes inconvenience to everyone in the setup. Is the protest then justified ? Does the means justify the ends in this case ? Yes some may say, if they have resorted to this form of protest as the last option. Still, at what cost ?

But look at the case of another stakeholder. In case students go on strike and do not come for classes, they get penalised in the form of attendance. Some teachers I have seen go to the extent of disallowing them for further classes totally. I remember one colleague with whom reasoning was impossible, stopping students from returning to class for taking leave even if they were sick. She would expect them to get out of class and stand outside the room. If they left, then their condition would be worse. But the same did not apply to her. She didn't find that the same should apply to her when she went on leave and would arrange classes, only to come back and take more than 3 hours in a week. So, was this justified ? Ofcourse not, but then, she thought she had a right to do that.

Staff don't get penalized in terms of attendance, nor in terms of performance nor the monetary benefits they get. But students on the other hand, get penalized in terms of attendance, fines, and even a bad name in their teachers eyes. Why so ?

Isn't there a disparity between the way we treat stakeholders in an educational setup. Students pay the fees - so they are entitled to be taught, to avail of basic sanitation facilities. Staff(both teaching and non-teaching) offer services both technical and administrative and get remunerated for the same. So, the two sides are important stakeholders working towards the same objective and goal. Then why this disparity. Why this insensitivity to each other ? Why this thought of troubling others to get something for oneself, even though the cause may be reasonable.

Whither idealism.......

Good old school days

School days ! Good golden days. Yes, they were years of learning but also so much warmth and fun.

Not romanticising school days, but then, today they feel romantic for I've never experienced that magic after leaving school. Like playing in the ground till the dust would fill my nostrils, the competition across classes, the tamarind from the huge tamarind tree, of trying to show ourselves shorter to get to the front benches in class, seeing the tiny tots walk up to LKG their class, some tearing their hearts out with their parents in tears.

Of teachers: My UKG teacher, who is uptodate the best in the world for me. Ms. Lorna for her never say no attitude.(I still regret not moving to her section in 2nd standard for I know life changed that day). The day my 3rd standard teacher called me talkative, which hurt me so much; not because of what she said, but because she sent the complaint to my mother through my neighbour before she told me she had such a notion (oh! and a fifty rupee fine too). When we scared Ms.Bernie to death with a rubber snake. The day I disobeyed my teacher Ms. Berna in 6th standard, went playing on the wet ground, fell down and came back breathless to look into her eyes with so much guilt that I died of shame inside. But, I didn't get an unkind word from her. Sister Agnes Theres, Principal, who I think was most loved by us students. When Ms. Iona introduced us to Shakespeare. Ms. Jesintha's english classes, where Shakespeare and poetry would take us to a magical, different world. Ms. Theresa's math classes, the only one I enjoyed learning math from, besides imbibing the art of dressing in cotton. The march past practices with Ms. Dinkie leading. Ms. Saraswathi's chemistry classes, where every time, I wondered if her brain was different from mine, for I couldn't imagine the bonds in organic chemistry which she put forth so easily.

Of classmates, Vidya and Radha who would compete for a rank by trying to get half a mark more. My classmate who bit my teacher and wasn't ready to let go, one who pinched so much that the teacher made her sit in a corner of the class. Shiromi, the class representative, who Vidya and I gave so much trouble by our 'we' craziness. Of a friend who lost interest in our friendship the day I stopped giving her new ballpoint pens. The day I embarassed myself when I vormitted on the wooden steps in the school (the first and last uptodate). So many......... When Kapil Dev and Ravi Shastri were major points of discussion, they being caricatured on the board during lunch hour. Going to America being the new trend, how we discussed and debated on America and what opportunities it had. Debates and discussions on name the subject, sports, religion, politics (everyday's paper was a big source), movies, ........ Of the 8th standard class room which had so much space that we could run around and play (it was later converted into a science lab for the junior classes). Flinching when Loretta pierced her ears the second time all by herself. Of how we disliked a new Sister because she used to shout and curse which we had never heard from a sister. Of being christened Shylock, when we were studying Merchant of Venice.

Of the 12th standard, final march past, where I went wrong and felt so miserable (I still don't understand why I couldn't synchronize that particular day). Of my friend who realised that something was wrong when she kept adding Potassium Permanganate to the solution despite it having turned pink. The day our whole class was made to stand in the basket ball ground in the hot sun in the 12th standard, heads bent, skin burning but still giggling despite being in full view of the whole school, for being noisy. Of not being allowed in the final get together with teachers by the other section students because we couldn't contribute much as we had our Physics practical exams. I remember that day so vividly, the hurt still not gone .... seeing Ms. Lorna dancing with one of the girls, before being shooed away from the place like flies .... how I would have loved to dance with her. I learnt an important lesson too that day - the pain of those who don't have and come to watch something getting shooed away.

So many such small incidents, so much to smile about when I rewind to the days gone by. Some where the hurt is still there despite the passage of time. I did go back there thrice, the third time being my last for the way someone of authority spoke to me that day. Ofcourse I would love to go back and meet my teachers. That is something I have not done, mistake being mine. I would love to go back and tell them how they have influenced my life in so many ways. That I am a product of their hardwork too, their dreams.... of how in my own eyes, I am still that child when I think of them...........................

Love old school days.... how I wish I could go back and relive them, knowing that they wouldn't come back, that they are the best in any person's life. Of knowing the privilege I've had of going to school, which so many don't.

So, cheers to the school as an institution, to the teachers, to the classmates, the comaraderie that make school days the best (Yes, I know it may not be true for some who have had a tough time in school).

News mongering media ?

The Hindu today on page 3 had a feature by the special correspondent titled: 'Chidambaram's statement makes no impact on OU'. The phrases used by the correspondent about the time after the announcement are: 'devoid of any activity even as the Union Home Minister's...... announcement', 'except students sitting on relay hunger strike............'. The best was 'there was no reaction from the agitating students till the evening much to the disappointment of mediamen.

I wondered, 'What was the media expecting ?' That the students will immediately go on the rampage, breaking glasses, burn buses, issue emotional statements leading to unrest ........... I looked at it positively. I took it as positive, that for once, people may be thinking and discussing the issue before coming out with a statement rather than making emotional statements in haste. Which is good on the part of the students - this agitation has seen its share of violence. Now, it is time to sit down and talk. Talk keeping all issues in mind and settle this issue once and for all.

Here, the media has exposed themselves as news mongers, waiting for some titbit thrown so that they can dramatize it and add some pictures to put in the front pages. For the past few days, things in the context were looking more positive - with more discussions, more negotiations, more opinions by the stakeholders. Positive because, when there are discussions, the radical views get tempered and the important points get discussed in length before a statement is made.

But what do the media care. All they are bothered about is the TRP ratings and a lost opportunity for the media to go back with pictures to show the best of shots and get their careers moving.

Again, in this land of Gandhi, if we were to shun news about violent protests and put up pictures of peaceful protests in the front page, if the government were to listen to peaceful protests rather than the violent ones, then this idea of violence as a means to achieve ends will stop.