I saw this article in the Daily. It was about a Supreme court referral to the house of legislature to consider enacting a law on live-in-relationships while pronouncing a judgement in a case regarding the same. A full page was devoted to this social issue in the paper. There were some four different related articles too apart from the main one, which discusses the issue, whereas other articles are some case studies and interviews of people having live-in-relationships.
I am of the opinion that live-in-relationships should be seen with equal respect and regard as marriage by the society.
There were times during my younger days in the sixties through seventies when this kind of relationship was practically not there across all Indian societies. There sure, were illegal relationships, which the concerned societies condemned with utmost contempt. Yet extra-marital relationships were not uncommon. A good friend of mine, a respected public loss assessor (surveyor) by profession was a bachelor having one such relationship with a widow, that too of a different religion and he had to keep it secret for over 20 years when he finally had a legal marriage. Except a few close friends like me, the woman was looked upon as a concubine. Today this very word concubine is perhaps forgotten by the society!
When live-in-relationships came to be around one and a half decade ago, most of the people kept this relationship a secret, for, the society though would not go tooth and nail in condemning, it complained of such relationships as aping the west. Slowly the attitude has changed towards this kind of relationship between man and woman, as it has become more common in metropolis and not rare in town and even rural localities. Most of these relationships end up in marriages, but continuing to live together for years on end without opting for marriage is not rare.
I personally feel live-in-relationships should be legalised. At present it is recognised only in domestic Violence Act. In my opinion, there is more mutual understanding and responsibilities in live-in-relationships than in marriages. During my times in late sixties and early seventies our elders would show us 2 or 3 to half a dozen and more photographs of prospective brides and grooms to select, when we attained marriageable age. Our elders would tell us all the prospectives are good natured and coming from good families. And the most important issue in a marriage those days was caste! When once the bride or groom was selected by seeing photographs, a 'girl seeing' (interview) programme would take place only after the horoscopes of bride and groom were matched! And some families like mine, there would be strict instructions to the boy, that there would absolutely be no chance to reject after seeing the girl!! It was considered as a blot on the girl by the mindless society if a girl was rejected after the 'seeing' programme. Not that there were no love marriages, but the society would not accept such marriages or at the most if under heavy pressure from influential parties, the society would reluctantly accept and there would be the usual function with pomp and show. There were many runaway legal marriages too, some never returning to their native place. But society would not take it lightly for years on end.
Contrast all this with today's live-in-relationships. Society should not only accept change but also encourage change for the good. After all "Satyam vada; Dharmam chara" (Truth is permanent; way of life is changing), isn't it?
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
Detachment
It had always been a paradox. Once you are attached, is it really possible to detach? Reams and reams of paper has been used on this subject from time immemorial. People listen to Gurus, lectures on Bhagavdgeeta and so many authoritative masters with great skills of lecturing. But does it really help in the long run? I doubt. When the vanity wears out, the mind returns to its position, worrying about my children living away in foreign countries, worrying about the deteriorating health of my aged dear and near relatives so on and so forth. Mind has a fixed mould, only straying away temporarily including Patanjali's Yoga Sutra - a temporary straying tool!
Why does the mind feel secure and safe in its mould? I think the basics of understanding attachments and the realities of detachments lie in this nature of the mind. That reminds me of a composition in Kannada by a Sant called Purandaradasa belonging to the Bhakti cult. The rough English translation is: "Swim and survive in the ocean of life with relationships like that of the fruit and seed of cashew...." Yes, cashew is one of very few fruit species with seed attached from outside on the surface. The Dasa says if all attachments are maintained in this way, life becomes easier to live, for, without attachments life becomes isolated which is seldom easy
Eesabeku, iddu jaisabeku..(Kannada) - Swim, be in it and win over life....
Why does the mind feel secure and safe in its mould? I think the basics of understanding attachments and the realities of detachments lie in this nature of the mind. That reminds me of a composition in Kannada by a Sant called Purandaradasa belonging to the Bhakti cult. The rough English translation is: "Swim and survive in the ocean of life with relationships like that of the fruit and seed of cashew...." Yes, cashew is one of very few fruit species with seed attached from outside on the surface. The Dasa says if all attachments are maintained in this way, life becomes easier to live, for, without attachments life becomes isolated which is seldom easy
Eesabeku, iddu jaisabeku..(Kannada) - Swim, be in it and win over life....
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Old Age Insecurities
There is a small park within a 5 minute walk from my home. It has a walking track and I go there regularly for my morning and evening walk. Whereas, there are only walkers in the morning in the park, there are a lot of children and their parents too in the evening. There are also some stone benches in which many people sit and chat (Gossip?). This evening I overheard an old couple complaining about their son not taking proper care about them in their old age. It was something like that but I could not hear the words completely and properly as I was in a brisk walk. But the complaint triggered a deep thought in my mind.
What is the relationship between parents and children under Indian context? What at all is a relationship? Is relationship something that fulfills our desires? Or, is a relationship for mutual benefit? What does that mean? So far as you fulfil my desire you are a friend, a relative or whatever it means, a sort of relationship. The moment you fail to fulfil my desire you cease to be in relationship with me, is that not so? May not be so abrupt, but broadly speaking, it amounts to that, right? (Jiddu Krishnamurti explains it better)That is the broad outline we all have for a relationship. (You are free and welcome to deny this, but it is a fact which you will see if only you have enough courage to dive deep into your own mind!)
Now, coming to the relationship between parents and children, for a great majority of people of all religions and cultures, across the world the prime concern in a marriages is to produce and rear children. In Indian context, this act of raising children is considered a noble cause. Every parent feels proud if his/her ward is good in studies. If the children are not so good, well there are many methods, some devious and some are even morally questionable, to make one's child acquire a professional degree. If this is the case among job oriented people, the business class sees to it that their male children pick up complicated business tricks so as to become a shrewd businessman when grown up. And there are other options to make your child grow up well into earning abilities. Nobody wants his child to become an irresponsible vagabond in adult life. And I am talking about lower middle and middle middle class families in India.
So far so good. But having an attitude of making sacrifices to bring up your child and expecting adequate returns for your sacrifices later, is something I personally disapprove of parenting. Whatever little or great you do to bring up your child properly within your means, can never be a sacrifice, because in addition to the natural instinct which we see even in animals, your sense of pride that makes you do the utmost good for your child. If you are bringing up your child with an eye on your old age securities, well I am left with no other choice than to term it as a form of business! Even if you are secure in your old age needing nothing but love from your grown up children, but if you still think that it is because of your sacrifices that has made your children what they are today, I don't consider it as sacrifice at all.
Thus goes the thoughts of this old man!
What is the relationship between parents and children under Indian context? What at all is a relationship? Is relationship something that fulfills our desires? Or, is a relationship for mutual benefit? What does that mean? So far as you fulfil my desire you are a friend, a relative or whatever it means, a sort of relationship. The moment you fail to fulfil my desire you cease to be in relationship with me, is that not so? May not be so abrupt, but broadly speaking, it amounts to that, right? (Jiddu Krishnamurti explains it better)That is the broad outline we all have for a relationship. (You are free and welcome to deny this, but it is a fact which you will see if only you have enough courage to dive deep into your own mind!)
Now, coming to the relationship between parents and children, for a great majority of people of all religions and cultures, across the world the prime concern in a marriages is to produce and rear children. In Indian context, this act of raising children is considered a noble cause. Every parent feels proud if his/her ward is good in studies. If the children are not so good, well there are many methods, some devious and some are even morally questionable, to make one's child acquire a professional degree. If this is the case among job oriented people, the business class sees to it that their male children pick up complicated business tricks so as to become a shrewd businessman when grown up. And there are other options to make your child grow up well into earning abilities. Nobody wants his child to become an irresponsible vagabond in adult life. And I am talking about lower middle and middle middle class families in India.
So far so good. But having an attitude of making sacrifices to bring up your child and expecting adequate returns for your sacrifices later, is something I personally disapprove of parenting. Whatever little or great you do to bring up your child properly within your means, can never be a sacrifice, because in addition to the natural instinct which we see even in animals, your sense of pride that makes you do the utmost good for your child. If you are bringing up your child with an eye on your old age securities, well I am left with no other choice than to term it as a form of business! Even if you are secure in your old age needing nothing but love from your grown up children, but if you still think that it is because of your sacrifices that has made your children what they are today, I don't consider it as sacrifice at all.
Thus goes the thoughts of this old man!
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Conflict of values
It has been my habit, since long to look into the "Personal Columns" of periodicals. These columns invariably promise to keep secret of the identity of the sender and as so, people present their their secret sufferings and dilemma seeking solutions. Some of the dilemma are very complicated and serious. Quite a few are presented to the magazine as a last resort before committing suicide. Such is the intensity of seriousness of the problem.
Now I read these columns simply because it gives me an insight into a variety of moral beliefs, a variety of human stupidities and great many ways of victimisation of vulnerable innocents. If I feel some of the solutions given are sane, rational and practicable thereby making them excellent, very few are immature and strewn with personal moral and ethical values of the person offering the solution. But of late, I think, magazines of repute take the services of well qualified and trained counselors each one for the relevant field the question pertains to. I am sure, the way these columns are maintained my the periodicals, lot of people are well benefited these days.
There are many questions regarding socio-economic, family values and quite some nuisance taking centre stage in one's personal life and spoiling it. The ones I am interested most are involving moral values. Moral values are creations of relevant societies, which are not recognised by nature, and hence the conflict. And when one does not understand this fact about morals and society, and lack little wisdom, a small conflict of values boomerangs into great, and oftentimes highly complicated problem requiring third party intervention. Also, marriage and morals get into conflict quite often. If one understands that actually the delicate thread of morals binds marriage, that much happiness is brought into marriage.This is a fact in opposition to the general belief that love and sacrifices by the partners for each other make marriages successful. There need not necessarily be room to cheat on your spouse, which is often resorted to, for avoiding conflict or hurt. An open minded talk regarding ones beliefs and a little better understanding ability than the the levels you usually assume, may avoid third party intervention. I wonder how many people think in these lines before committing oneself into any kind of relationship, not only marriage.
Now I read these columns simply because it gives me an insight into a variety of moral beliefs, a variety of human stupidities and great many ways of victimisation of vulnerable innocents. If I feel some of the solutions given are sane, rational and practicable thereby making them excellent, very few are immature and strewn with personal moral and ethical values of the person offering the solution. But of late, I think, magazines of repute take the services of well qualified and trained counselors each one for the relevant field the question pertains to. I am sure, the way these columns are maintained my the periodicals, lot of people are well benefited these days.
There are many questions regarding socio-economic, family values and quite some nuisance taking centre stage in one's personal life and spoiling it. The ones I am interested most are involving moral values. Moral values are creations of relevant societies, which are not recognised by nature, and hence the conflict. And when one does not understand this fact about morals and society, and lack little wisdom, a small conflict of values boomerangs into great, and oftentimes highly complicated problem requiring third party intervention. Also, marriage and morals get into conflict quite often. If one understands that actually the delicate thread of morals binds marriage, that much happiness is brought into marriage.This is a fact in opposition to the general belief that love and sacrifices by the partners for each other make marriages successful. There need not necessarily be room to cheat on your spouse, which is often resorted to, for avoiding conflict or hurt. An open minded talk regarding ones beliefs and a little better understanding ability than the the levels you usually assume, may avoid third party intervention. I wonder how many people think in these lines before committing oneself into any kind of relationship, not only marriage.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Will to Live
"Will to Live", I come across this term quite often in the teachings and writings of many philosophers. I could not grasp the true meaning of the phrase though each philosopher offers his meaning. That reminds me of Heinrich Suso, a medieval Christian mystic's words. He says,- "If a man cannot grasp matter, let him be idle; the matter will grasp him". I thought, I could at least understand the meaning behind this Mystic's quote. So had long forgotten the phrase - "Will to Live"
Now I am going to explain about a major event that took place in my personal life little over two years ago. I had a mild heart attack on Saturday the 26th May 2007 at around 2.30 pm. I was in sound belief that the chest pain was nothing but gastric, which was similar to the ones I quite often had and that would go in a couple of hours. This time, when it refused to go, reluctantly I agreed to be shifted to a city hospital emergency room at around 8.30 pm, where the ECG confirmed
the attack. Immediately I was administered with so many drips, injections and oral drugs and kept under observation in ICCU. I was not allowed to move even sideways. By 11 o'clock the ECG monitor showed normal heart functioning. Two of the drips were removed from ankle and wrist veins. However, one drip on the other wrist was continued. The ECG machine also was continued with connections to my chest. The cardiologist talked some encouraging words with a warning that I should not even move sideways at least till morning and left. There was no sleep despite administration of morphine till 5 am and I did not know when I actually went to sleep. Suddenly I woke up at 6 feeling wet coldness to my hand. I had turned to my side in sleep and the drip had got disconnected. Blood was oozing from my vein, there were little pools on the bed as there was rubber sheet under the sheet.Three fourths of my hospital shirt was soaked in blood and a large portion of blanket was wet. I was shivering like a cat in snow storm. After I called in help, everything was set right. In my fair estimation, I had lost over 500 Ml. of blood. Next half an hour, while the paramedic was changing the sheets, cleaning my body (whole of chest and back) with surgical spirit to completely wipe out the blood stain, my mind was surprisingly calm and quiet...there was absolutely no fear of death...was in a sort of unattempted meditation...the nurse was trying her best to fill courage but nothing entered my head...the meaning of life I had so far, looked totally nonsensical...well, I am not able to put in words that state of mind, but I now knew what is "Will to Live"....life has its own unique ways to counter emergencies (like the timing it made me wake up despite morphine, for, the doctor later opined that ten more minutes of blood loss would have been disastrous!) when human intellect could do nothing.....
It is an established fact that over 90% of deaths in snake bite cases are not because of the injected poison in the blood stream, but because of the shock taking place before the poison reaches brain. Similarly, I now think, more often than not,
death takes place because of the fear of death than the disease or the illness we suffer.
Now I am going to explain about a major event that took place in my personal life little over two years ago. I had a mild heart attack on Saturday the 26th May 2007 at around 2.30 pm. I was in sound belief that the chest pain was nothing but gastric, which was similar to the ones I quite often had and that would go in a couple of hours. This time, when it refused to go, reluctantly I agreed to be shifted to a city hospital emergency room at around 8.30 pm, where the ECG confirmed
the attack. Immediately I was administered with so many drips, injections and oral drugs and kept under observation in ICCU. I was not allowed to move even sideways. By 11 o'clock the ECG monitor showed normal heart functioning. Two of the drips were removed from ankle and wrist veins. However, one drip on the other wrist was continued. The ECG machine also was continued with connections to my chest. The cardiologist talked some encouraging words with a warning that I should not even move sideways at least till morning and left. There was no sleep despite administration of morphine till 5 am and I did not know when I actually went to sleep. Suddenly I woke up at 6 feeling wet coldness to my hand. I had turned to my side in sleep and the drip had got disconnected. Blood was oozing from my vein, there were little pools on the bed as there was rubber sheet under the sheet.Three fourths of my hospital shirt was soaked in blood and a large portion of blanket was wet. I was shivering like a cat in snow storm. After I called in help, everything was set right. In my fair estimation, I had lost over 500 Ml. of blood. Next half an hour, while the paramedic was changing the sheets, cleaning my body (whole of chest and back) with surgical spirit to completely wipe out the blood stain, my mind was surprisingly calm and quiet...there was absolutely no fear of death...was in a sort of unattempted meditation...the nurse was trying her best to fill courage but nothing entered my head...the meaning of life I had so far, looked totally nonsensical...well, I am not able to put in words that state of mind, but I now knew what is "Will to Live"....life has its own unique ways to counter emergencies (like the timing it made me wake up despite morphine, for, the doctor later opined that ten more minutes of blood loss would have been disastrous!) when human intellect could do nothing.....
It is an established fact that over 90% of deaths in snake bite cases are not because of the injected poison in the blood stream, but because of the shock taking place before the poison reaches brain. Similarly, I now think, more often than not,
death takes place because of the fear of death than the disease or the illness we suffer.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Avadhoot
'Avadhoot' was used more as an abuse rather than a compliment during my boyhood days, way back in late 1940's. My mother would say, " Khainch ek avdhoot jaallenki tu maakkaan! - meaning what a born (stupid) avadhhot you are to me!
Now the real meaning of the word Avadhoot is quite different. As you may all know Hinduism is replete with not only wisdom but as much superstition and stupidities too! There is a system of enlightenment, salvation, mukti or what you will,.... known as Aghor. In brief, Aghor practitioners, or Aghoris, undergo a rigorous practice to see no difference between anything. They try to see all matter as same. Incidentally that is really the truth. Matter takes different hues and properties as perceived by the mind. It is a different subject, which I may try to explore sometime later. Now these Aghoris live in dense forests away from civilization. It is rare or seldom one can see an Aghori even in the Himalayan foot hills these days. But they existed and experts say they still exist.
Aghoris practice a lot of black magic including human sacrifice; that too sacrificing a matured but virgin female is considered the most sacred of all sacrifices. Practising mind concentration is their prime concern. They practise this for hours and days on end without food or break. Whenever I think of the cult, I recollect one of Swami Rama's experiences explained in his famous book titled "Living With the Himalayan Masters". In this book there is an episode dealing with his encounter with an Aghori, with even a photograph of the Aghori Baba. Swami Rama was not alone and there was a fellow disciple with him who acted as guide to the Swami in locating many Himalayan Masters (Hermits and Yoga Practitioners) practically living in caves. The moment the Aghori Baba looked at these two, he pointed to the Swami's guide and told that he was very hungry and thinking of Rossogolas, a Bengali sweet. And then asked both of them to immediately go down to the banks of Ganga, where he said, a half burnt dead body was floating. He asked the visitors to cut and bring a piece of an arm of the body and gave them a sharp knife. Aghois are most feared because they are not only very short tempered but also believed to possess powers to kill just by concentrating their stare at people! (Remember, the story of Kaushika Muni who so burnt a flying bird because it spoilt his meditation by dropping stools on his head?). The duo went down with much fears of the Baba, and lo! there really was a corpse floating. They cut off the an arm and brought it to the Baba who gave them a pot and ordered them to put the half rotten human flesh into it and boil on a firewood hearth which was burning at a corner of the cave. The Baba closed his eyes and perhaps meditated for a while and then asked the Bangali fellow, Swami Rama's guide, to open the pot and LO! there were lovely hot rossogolas fuming with pleasing aroma!.
Such accomplished Aghoris are called Avadhoot.
My mother used to scold me like that because I was really a stupid, careless boy often getting serious injuries while playing or doing something. Once in my enthusiasm to view the asphalting of road,- it was a new thing in our town then in 1952 or so, - I leaned over a bamboo thorn fence behind our house at the end of the kitchen garden, and it yielded to my weight and gave away making me fall a depth of around 12 feet on small heaps of stones below having head injury causing profuse bleeding. I was hardly eight years old then. A woman working in the paddy field saw this, shouted in panic as if the boy died from the high fall into the gorge! I was laughing at her, I still remember. She carried me in her arms and brought me home!
"He Deva, khainche ek avdhoot jaallerentu makkan...." the first reaction from my horrified mother!
This 'avadhoot' stupidity seems to be still there in me. See in my next blog, which I am going to title as "Will to Live"
Now the real meaning of the word Avadhoot is quite different. As you may all know Hinduism is replete with not only wisdom but as much superstition and stupidities too! There is a system of enlightenment, salvation, mukti or what you will,.... known as Aghor. In brief, Aghor practitioners, or Aghoris, undergo a rigorous practice to see no difference between anything. They try to see all matter as same. Incidentally that is really the truth. Matter takes different hues and properties as perceived by the mind. It is a different subject, which I may try to explore sometime later. Now these Aghoris live in dense forests away from civilization. It is rare or seldom one can see an Aghori even in the Himalayan foot hills these days. But they existed and experts say they still exist.
Aghoris practice a lot of black magic including human sacrifice; that too sacrificing a matured but virgin female is considered the most sacred of all sacrifices. Practising mind concentration is their prime concern. They practise this for hours and days on end without food or break. Whenever I think of the cult, I recollect one of Swami Rama's experiences explained in his famous book titled "Living With the Himalayan Masters". In this book there is an episode dealing with his encounter with an Aghori, with even a photograph of the Aghori Baba. Swami Rama was not alone and there was a fellow disciple with him who acted as guide to the Swami in locating many Himalayan Masters (Hermits and Yoga Practitioners) practically living in caves. The moment the Aghori Baba looked at these two, he pointed to the Swami's guide and told that he was very hungry and thinking of Rossogolas, a Bengali sweet. And then asked both of them to immediately go down to the banks of Ganga, where he said, a half burnt dead body was floating. He asked the visitors to cut and bring a piece of an arm of the body and gave them a sharp knife. Aghois are most feared because they are not only very short tempered but also believed to possess powers to kill just by concentrating their stare at people! (Remember, the story of Kaushika Muni who so burnt a flying bird because it spoilt his meditation by dropping stools on his head?). The duo went down with much fears of the Baba, and lo! there really was a corpse floating. They cut off the an arm and brought it to the Baba who gave them a pot and ordered them to put the half rotten human flesh into it and boil on a firewood hearth which was burning at a corner of the cave. The Baba closed his eyes and perhaps meditated for a while and then asked the Bangali fellow, Swami Rama's guide, to open the pot and LO! there were lovely hot rossogolas fuming with pleasing aroma!.
Such accomplished Aghoris are called Avadhoot.
My mother used to scold me like that because I was really a stupid, careless boy often getting serious injuries while playing or doing something. Once in my enthusiasm to view the asphalting of road,- it was a new thing in our town then in 1952 or so, - I leaned over a bamboo thorn fence behind our house at the end of the kitchen garden, and it yielded to my weight and gave away making me fall a depth of around 12 feet on small heaps of stones below having head injury causing profuse bleeding. I was hardly eight years old then. A woman working in the paddy field saw this, shouted in panic as if the boy died from the high fall into the gorge! I was laughing at her, I still remember. She carried me in her arms and brought me home!
"He Deva, khainche ek avdhoot jaallerentu makkan...." the first reaction from my horrified mother!
This 'avadhoot' stupidity seems to be still there in me. See in my next blog, which I am going to title as "Will to Live"
Sunday, March 7, 2010
An Incident (Short story)
For the nth time Ramesh was asking me why I did not marry in my life. I had managed to give him evasive replies so far but today somehow I felt I should reveal the truth to somebody before the secret dies alongwith me.
Ramesh is a young man of marriagebele age. Even though he is an engineer by education, he preferred to develop his interest in agriculture. That was how he became close to me. At 80 with abundent experience in agriculture,since I did nothing but agriculture in these long years of my life, many used to come to me for advice.I was the first man to bring a tractor to Shivamogga from Bombay Harbour all the way by driving! I was the first man to introduce drip irrigation in this region after having a practical demo in Israel. It is only since two years now I gave up my hobby cum profession cum fancy. Lot of people come and take me to their farm seeking my practical advice and Ramesh is one of them. What made me admire in Ramesh was his ability to grasp the intricacies of plantlife. Not only that, his creative mind would also experiment and innovate the suggestions I make. Sincerety and determination are the basic imperatives of an agriculturist. Unlike a sitting landlord, a true agriculturist relentlessly works in the field becoming one among his own hired labourers. By this way not only the quality of work will be superior but also you get the best value for your money. Ramesh had all these qualities.
Coming back to the point about Ramesh's curiosity to know about my distant past, the long dead memories slowly started unwinding.
I started my story, "An incident took place in my life during my college days way back in the late 1940's, there was a girl in my college called Jean Mascarenhas. She was a stunning beauty, fair, tall and above all very intelligent. Not only was she very good at studies, she also participated in a lot of extra curricular activities such as Shakesperean Drama, various debates and was one among the editorial board of the college magazine, which was running very successfully because of her and her group.Later, quite a few of them became chief editors of leading National Weekly of yeasteryears such as The Illustrated Weekly of India (now defunct)"
"Jean was level headed, never giving chances for any boys to do any silly things but did not have any fears to talk to the boys if needed. When I was in the final year of my B.A, one fine day she approached me and asked, "I want some help from you D.N. (from those college days itself I was called by my first two initials)" All eyes turned towards us, because we all thought talking to Jean was a prized preveledge!. "How can I help you Jean, you are welcome" I said. She might not have expected me to address her by her first name without any suffixes. There was a momentary slur before she answered. That was the beginning of a friendship between me and Jean. During those days very few colleges had co-education and talking to girls would become grist for gossip mills. So, when a girl was taking the initiative, that too the most beautiful and intelligent girl of the college, well you can imagine the general reaction especially among my close friends."
"Soon we became good friends and used to talk freely without any fears in the college. We,- at least me,- thought we had a pure uncontaminated friendship for mutual benefit in our education. Why should we be afraid of gossip? We also used to go often to Light House Hill, a most preferred park at the top of a hillock facing sunset over the distant sea. We used to sit liesurely for over an hour in the evenings discussing our common subjects - only languages because she was in Science group and I was in Arts group. I had intentions of doing Research in English literature, but circumstances forced me to stop at graduation level. That was in Mangalore. There were only two colleges those days in the whole of South Kanara.(Now, Dakshina Kannada). One was St. Aloysius Boys College, situated by the side of the park on the hill, and the other was Government College - Co-education. Both were in the heart of the city. We were in Govt. College."
"On a weekend, that was Saturday evening, Jean suggested we go to Bengare beach. Even though Mangalore is a coastal town, there is no beach in proper Mangalore because many rivers joined the sea leaving no free space. And to reach Bengare, one has to cross river Netravati by a motor launch or passenger rowing boat. We never crossed the limits; never even touched each other. Those days the moral values were such, not like todays dating and live-in culture which were unthinkable in those days."
"On the beach we were discussing King Lear, one of Shakespeare's drama. Any one Shakespeare's drama was a compulsory subject for Degree English. Jean, an expert on Sheakespeare, slowly became emotional during the discussion and she suddenly pulled me to her and kissed me on the lips. I was stunned, did not know what to do, but Jean continued to hug and carress drawing my hand to her full round breasts. I was a puritan, never even dreamt of her this behavior. But it was not in my family cuture even to talk to a Christian girl. Perhaps that was the reason my parents did not put me in St. Aloysius, a Christian College. The days were such. I had taken great risk to groom friendship with Jean without the knowledge of my elders in Udupi, only because the girl was not only intelligent but also level headed and sane thinking. Her behavior now looked disgusting to me. I got mad and pushed her with great force as if I was gripped by a hungry tiger. Jean was terribly shocked by my behavior, but I was in no mood even to look at her. I simply got up and started walking back to the barge where the boats are moored. There I sat in a corner seat. Jean came and sat beside me, still under shock, but I immediately got up and moved to the other corner. The launch was full with passengers and Jean could not follow me; I didn't care."
"Next morning the greatest shock of my life was waiting for me my dear Ramesh. Jean commited suicide previous night by hanging in her room at home. In the suicide note she wrote "I could not bear the pain of rejection....nobody is responsible for my action.....".....An indelible scar, an unbearable guilt was permanently etched on my mind......"
I felt as if offloaded a big burden I had been carrying all my adult life. I took a deap breath and looked a Ramesh, who too seemed to be shocked by listening the story, my life story.
"After graduation, I went to Bombay and joined a clearing agent at the harbour as a clerk. I worked for two years. I thought the scar of the guilt would soon heal. But no! Even today Jean's suicide is haunting me. I could never forgive me for I virtually murdered an innocent young and intelligent upcoming girl because of my religious and traditional beliefs..... my cultivated sense of morality......"
A few long moments later Ramesh asked, "Uncle, now that you have revealed the long guarded secret of your life to me, can I ask a couple of personal questions?" I was not sure what he would ask and simply nodded my head slowly. "You never had a haircut or shaved your beard after that incident, did you?" He asked. I nodded. "Did you not get any marriage proposals later when you were still young and perhaps very handsome?", he asked again. I said "Yes, quite some, which I flatly rejected without giving any reason. After I crossed thirty years of age, in those days thought to be too late for a boy to marry, I stopped getting any more proposals" Again he continued, " One more last question uncle, very personal, you are at your liberty to refuse answering...." "Oh, c'mon, go ahead and ask," I encouraged. Perhaps I knew what he was going to ask. Phut, he shot off the question straight and point blank, " Have never had sex with a woman?" I was not puturbed, stared at him for a moment and said " I did not want to murder another woman in my life"
Ramesh is a young man of marriagebele age. Even though he is an engineer by education, he preferred to develop his interest in agriculture. That was how he became close to me. At 80 with abundent experience in agriculture,since I did nothing but agriculture in these long years of my life, many used to come to me for advice.I was the first man to bring a tractor to Shivamogga from Bombay Harbour all the way by driving! I was the first man to introduce drip irrigation in this region after having a practical demo in Israel. It is only since two years now I gave up my hobby cum profession cum fancy. Lot of people come and take me to their farm seeking my practical advice and Ramesh is one of them. What made me admire in Ramesh was his ability to grasp the intricacies of plantlife. Not only that, his creative mind would also experiment and innovate the suggestions I make. Sincerety and determination are the basic imperatives of an agriculturist. Unlike a sitting landlord, a true agriculturist relentlessly works in the field becoming one among his own hired labourers. By this way not only the quality of work will be superior but also you get the best value for your money. Ramesh had all these qualities.
Coming back to the point about Ramesh's curiosity to know about my distant past, the long dead memories slowly started unwinding.
I started my story, "An incident took place in my life during my college days way back in the late 1940's, there was a girl in my college called Jean Mascarenhas. She was a stunning beauty, fair, tall and above all very intelligent. Not only was she very good at studies, she also participated in a lot of extra curricular activities such as Shakesperean Drama, various debates and was one among the editorial board of the college magazine, which was running very successfully because of her and her group.Later, quite a few of them became chief editors of leading National Weekly of yeasteryears such as The Illustrated Weekly of India (now defunct)"
"Jean was level headed, never giving chances for any boys to do any silly things but did not have any fears to talk to the boys if needed. When I was in the final year of my B.A, one fine day she approached me and asked, "I want some help from you D.N. (from those college days itself I was called by my first two initials)" All eyes turned towards us, because we all thought talking to Jean was a prized preveledge!. "How can I help you Jean, you are welcome" I said. She might not have expected me to address her by her first name without any suffixes. There was a momentary slur before she answered. That was the beginning of a friendship between me and Jean. During those days very few colleges had co-education and talking to girls would become grist for gossip mills. So, when a girl was taking the initiative, that too the most beautiful and intelligent girl of the college, well you can imagine the general reaction especially among my close friends."
"Soon we became good friends and used to talk freely without any fears in the college. We,- at least me,- thought we had a pure uncontaminated friendship for mutual benefit in our education. Why should we be afraid of gossip? We also used to go often to Light House Hill, a most preferred park at the top of a hillock facing sunset over the distant sea. We used to sit liesurely for over an hour in the evenings discussing our common subjects - only languages because she was in Science group and I was in Arts group. I had intentions of doing Research in English literature, but circumstances forced me to stop at graduation level. That was in Mangalore. There were only two colleges those days in the whole of South Kanara.(Now, Dakshina Kannada). One was St. Aloysius Boys College, situated by the side of the park on the hill, and the other was Government College - Co-education. Both were in the heart of the city. We were in Govt. College."
"On a weekend, that was Saturday evening, Jean suggested we go to Bengare beach. Even though Mangalore is a coastal town, there is no beach in proper Mangalore because many rivers joined the sea leaving no free space. And to reach Bengare, one has to cross river Netravati by a motor launch or passenger rowing boat. We never crossed the limits; never even touched each other. Those days the moral values were such, not like todays dating and live-in culture which were unthinkable in those days."
"On the beach we were discussing King Lear, one of Shakespeare's drama. Any one Shakespeare's drama was a compulsory subject for Degree English. Jean, an expert on Sheakespeare, slowly became emotional during the discussion and she suddenly pulled me to her and kissed me on the lips. I was stunned, did not know what to do, but Jean continued to hug and carress drawing my hand to her full round breasts. I was a puritan, never even dreamt of her this behavior. But it was not in my family cuture even to talk to a Christian girl. Perhaps that was the reason my parents did not put me in St. Aloysius, a Christian College. The days were such. I had taken great risk to groom friendship with Jean without the knowledge of my elders in Udupi, only because the girl was not only intelligent but also level headed and sane thinking. Her behavior now looked disgusting to me. I got mad and pushed her with great force as if I was gripped by a hungry tiger. Jean was terribly shocked by my behavior, but I was in no mood even to look at her. I simply got up and started walking back to the barge where the boats are moored. There I sat in a corner seat. Jean came and sat beside me, still under shock, but I immediately got up and moved to the other corner. The launch was full with passengers and Jean could not follow me; I didn't care."
"Next morning the greatest shock of my life was waiting for me my dear Ramesh. Jean commited suicide previous night by hanging in her room at home. In the suicide note she wrote "I could not bear the pain of rejection....nobody is responsible for my action.....".....An indelible scar, an unbearable guilt was permanently etched on my mind......"
I felt as if offloaded a big burden I had been carrying all my adult life. I took a deap breath and looked a Ramesh, who too seemed to be shocked by listening the story, my life story.
"After graduation, I went to Bombay and joined a clearing agent at the harbour as a clerk. I worked for two years. I thought the scar of the guilt would soon heal. But no! Even today Jean's suicide is haunting me. I could never forgive me for I virtually murdered an innocent young and intelligent upcoming girl because of my religious and traditional beliefs..... my cultivated sense of morality......"
A few long moments later Ramesh asked, "Uncle, now that you have revealed the long guarded secret of your life to me, can I ask a couple of personal questions?" I was not sure what he would ask and simply nodded my head slowly. "You never had a haircut or shaved your beard after that incident, did you?" He asked. I nodded. "Did you not get any marriage proposals later when you were still young and perhaps very handsome?", he asked again. I said "Yes, quite some, which I flatly rejected without giving any reason. After I crossed thirty years of age, in those days thought to be too late for a boy to marry, I stopped getting any more proposals" Again he continued, " One more last question uncle, very personal, you are at your liberty to refuse answering...." "Oh, c'mon, go ahead and ask," I encouraged. Perhaps I knew what he was going to ask. Phut, he shot off the question straight and point blank, " Have never had sex with a woman?" I was not puturbed, stared at him for a moment and said " I did not want to murder another woman in my life"
Friday, March 5, 2010
High School nostalgia
Nostalgia
While writing that blog about inflation yesterday, I remembered an event that occurred when I was in 10Th standard, might be 1958 or 59.
There was no high school in our small town and the nearest was in Bantwal on the other side of river Nethravathi. We, high school going boys (about 15-20 in all from 8Th to SSLC -11Th standard, not tenth, and there were only a handful of girls but none in my batch) used to walk the distance of two miles crossing the bridge over the river. We used to have our lunch at the school hostel dining room about one mile away from the school further in the depth of of forest bordering a village. There was no proper road to the village and we had to walk the foot path crossing quite a few paddy field in the scorching sun in summer and heavy rains in monsoon season. It was real fun for the boys in those days teasing and lampooning and sometimes even quarreling with each other on the way.
Here I would like to mention about the prevailing currency system those days. It was in line with the British monetary system of Pound, Shilling and Pence. A rupee was split into 16 parts called 'Annas' and each anna into 12 Pies. So a rupee was equivalent to 192 pies. The decimal system of Rupee = 100 Paisa came into force in 1960.
Now the school hostel was rum by a Kannada Pundit (Kannada and Hindi Language
teachers are called Pundits) on contract with the school management. The hostel (only four rooms!) was actually his guest house situated near his dwelling house. Those days teaching in a school, whether elementary, higher elementary or High School was not a main occupation. Almost all the teachers had ancestral lands - mostly paddy fields and some cashew orchards. This Kannada Pundit had both, - paddy fields as well as cashew & mango orchards. So the in-come from hostel was his third source apart from agriculture and teaching job.
Unlike the hostel inmates (there were only eight of them in four rooms), we went there only for lunch. Though the meal was simple, it was tasty and sumptuous, without quantity limits. The Pundit charged us Rs. 0-2-6 (means two and a half annas) equivalent to today's 15 paisa! The total monthly bill would not cross a good four rupees!
As I said in the first line, the Pundit raised the meal charge by a quarter anna quoting price rise of provisions, when I was in 10Th standard (Also known as High School Vth form). Almost 100% of mid-day mealers are we from Panemangalore, my native town and we made a flash strike in protest of raise in meal price. For one week, our elders gave us 6 annas to eat out. And quite a few of us fish eaters used the golden opportunity to eat in a fish hotel in the town, again a kilometer away on the other side of the school. For fish meals the regular rate was 8 annas and for students it was a concessional 6 annas. Quantity was limitless except fish pieces. Fried fish was charged extra depending on the variety of fish. Soon the pundit reverted to old rates and the routine of walking to the dining room resumed after a week.
Got any idea how much High School education cost in those days? The fees were around
four rupees per term! School days were real fun for us walking for an hour. And in summer we would cross the river by foot avoiding the bridge. Water level in the river wouldn't be above our knees where the river bed was wide.
While writing that blog about inflation yesterday, I remembered an event that occurred when I was in 10Th standard, might be 1958 or 59.
There was no high school in our small town and the nearest was in Bantwal on the other side of river Nethravathi. We, high school going boys (about 15-20 in all from 8Th to SSLC -11Th standard, not tenth, and there were only a handful of girls but none in my batch) used to walk the distance of two miles crossing the bridge over the river. We used to have our lunch at the school hostel dining room about one mile away from the school further in the depth of of forest bordering a village. There was no proper road to the village and we had to walk the foot path crossing quite a few paddy field in the scorching sun in summer and heavy rains in monsoon season. It was real fun for the boys in those days teasing and lampooning and sometimes even quarreling with each other on the way.
Here I would like to mention about the prevailing currency system those days. It was in line with the British monetary system of Pound, Shilling and Pence. A rupee was split into 16 parts called 'Annas' and each anna into 12 Pies. So a rupee was equivalent to 192 pies. The decimal system of Rupee = 100 Paisa came into force in 1960.
Now the school hostel was rum by a Kannada Pundit (Kannada and Hindi Language
teachers are called Pundits) on contract with the school management. The hostel (only four rooms!) was actually his guest house situated near his dwelling house. Those days teaching in a school, whether elementary, higher elementary or High School was not a main occupation. Almost all the teachers had ancestral lands - mostly paddy fields and some cashew orchards. This Kannada Pundit had both, - paddy fields as well as cashew & mango orchards. So the in-come from hostel was his third source apart from agriculture and teaching job.
Unlike the hostel inmates (there were only eight of them in four rooms), we went there only for lunch. Though the meal was simple, it was tasty and sumptuous, without quantity limits. The Pundit charged us Rs. 0-2-6 (means two and a half annas) equivalent to today's 15 paisa! The total monthly bill would not cross a good four rupees!
As I said in the first line, the Pundit raised the meal charge by a quarter anna quoting price rise of provisions, when I was in 10Th standard (Also known as High School Vth form). Almost 100% of mid-day mealers are we from Panemangalore, my native town and we made a flash strike in protest of raise in meal price. For one week, our elders gave us 6 annas to eat out. And quite a few of us fish eaters used the golden opportunity to eat in a fish hotel in the town, again a kilometer away on the other side of the school. For fish meals the regular rate was 8 annas and for students it was a concessional 6 annas. Quantity was limitless except fish pieces. Fried fish was charged extra depending on the variety of fish. Soon the pundit reverted to old rates and the routine of walking to the dining room resumed after a week.
Got any idea how much High School education cost in those days? The fees were around
four rupees per term! School days were real fun for us walking for an hour. And in summer we would cross the river by foot avoiding the bridge. Water level in the river wouldn't be above our knees where the river bed was wide.
A Spiritual Touch
"...That flower lying by the wayside, - the sun, the earth, water and air all have gone into the making of that flower, but the flower is none of them...." - J. Krishnamurti.
During my morning walk, I pass by that large pond full of blooming lotus absorbing the first rays of the rising sun. It is a unique experience to see the dancing rays of the sun. Perhaps the flower is chatting with one of its makers,- the sun!...and each day the experience is brand new, just born!
I still remember the days when I used to drive regularly to my native place, some 210 Kms., in the late 70's and early 80's from my place I made home at that time. There was a stretch of the road through thick coffee plantations with Mayflower (Gulmohar) trees lining all along the road. During the season the road gets fully covered with a bed of flowers of diffrent colours. Once I stopped my car and looked back at the tyre mark on the flower bed. I bent down and looked closely at the flowers that were trampled under my wheel. How sad!..But, the flower has gone back to its maker, the earth.
No Indian can ever forget his first night on the wedding day, the bed covered with lots of colourful rose petals, jasmine and a variety of fragrant flowers. Ah the fragrance is still lingering in my nostrills. The flower has gone back to its maker, the air.
Perhaps rosewater is the first invention of man to preserve the natural scent. Use of rosewater during festive occasions is still in vogue all over the world. The flower has gone back to its maker, the water.
I enjoy each and every split second of that flower going back to its makers. But do I recognise that I too am made of the same sun, the earth, water and air? But yet, I shudder to think the supreme truth that I too have to go back to my makers, one after one!
During my morning walk, I pass by that large pond full of blooming lotus absorbing the first rays of the rising sun. It is a unique experience to see the dancing rays of the sun. Perhaps the flower is chatting with one of its makers,- the sun!...and each day the experience is brand new, just born!
I still remember the days when I used to drive regularly to my native place, some 210 Kms., in the late 70's and early 80's from my place I made home at that time. There was a stretch of the road through thick coffee plantations with Mayflower (Gulmohar) trees lining all along the road. During the season the road gets fully covered with a bed of flowers of diffrent colours. Once I stopped my car and looked back at the tyre mark on the flower bed. I bent down and looked closely at the flowers that were trampled under my wheel. How sad!..But, the flower has gone back to its maker, the earth.
No Indian can ever forget his first night on the wedding day, the bed covered with lots of colourful rose petals, jasmine and a variety of fragrant flowers. Ah the fragrance is still lingering in my nostrills. The flower has gone back to its maker, the air.
Perhaps rosewater is the first invention of man to preserve the natural scent. Use of rosewater during festive occasions is still in vogue all over the world. The flower has gone back to its maker, the water.
I enjoy each and every split second of that flower going back to its makers. But do I recognise that I too am made of the same sun, the earth, water and air? But yet, I shudder to think the supreme truth that I too have to go back to my makers, one after one!
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Inflation
I am a home wine maker, making new wines regularly once in 3-4 months. I started this hobby some 12 years back. Over the years, I have perfected the technique and today my people do not give entry into their homes whenever I make a family visit to South Kanara (Now Dakshina Kannada), where over 90% of my family people live without showing a bottle of my wine.
Now that is not the point I am trying to relate. When I started making wine in 1996, Bangalore Black Grapes costed Rs.12/- per Kg. at the wholesaler and Sugar Rs. 8/- a Kg., if I remember correctly. In may 2008, I made a visit to my daughters in America and just before leaving India, I made a fresh batch of red wine. I very much remember the cost of raw materials. I bought black grapes @ Rs.16/- a Kg. and sugar Rs. 21/- a Kg. On return from America in January, 2009, I went to the market to buy the raw materials. I was flabbergasted to learn the rates - grapes Rs.26/- and Sugar Rs. 28/-! That is real inflation!
The fine point I am trying to drive home is that from 1996 to March 2008, over a good 12 year period, the upword movement was approximately 30% over 1996 price and that is perhaps very normal, right? But from March 2008 to January 2009, Just about 10 months , the uprise is over 30%!! very abnormal...tse...tse...tse!
Before my America visit, the best variety of locally grown rice was selling @ Rs. 28/- and today it is Rs. 45/-; Grapes Rs.35/- and sugar Rs. 40/-!! Rise in a geometric progression! Somethinmg very alrming, isn't it? And the most disturbing thing is people of the calibre of Dr.Manmohan Singh and P.C.Chidambaram are trying to fool common man that they have take strong steps to bring down prices, which will come down soon!
Shine India Shine!!!
JAI HIND
Now that is not the point I am trying to relate. When I started making wine in 1996, Bangalore Black Grapes costed Rs.12/- per Kg. at the wholesaler and Sugar Rs. 8/- a Kg., if I remember correctly. In may 2008, I made a visit to my daughters in America and just before leaving India, I made a fresh batch of red wine. I very much remember the cost of raw materials. I bought black grapes @ Rs.16/- a Kg. and sugar Rs. 21/- a Kg. On return from America in January, 2009, I went to the market to buy the raw materials. I was flabbergasted to learn the rates - grapes Rs.26/- and Sugar Rs. 28/-! That is real inflation!
The fine point I am trying to drive home is that from 1996 to March 2008, over a good 12 year period, the upword movement was approximately 30% over 1996 price and that is perhaps very normal, right? But from March 2008 to January 2009, Just about 10 months , the uprise is over 30%!! very abnormal...tse...tse...tse!
Before my America visit, the best variety of locally grown rice was selling @ Rs. 28/- and today it is Rs. 45/-; Grapes Rs.35/- and sugar Rs. 40/-!! Rise in a geometric progression! Somethinmg very alrming, isn't it? And the most disturbing thing is people of the calibre of Dr.Manmohan Singh and P.C.Chidambaram are trying to fool common man that they have take strong steps to bring down prices, which will come down soon!
Shine India Shine!!!
JAI HIND
My very first post...
Well, it has been over 10 years since I first accessed the Internet. When my daughter first went to the US in 1999, it became more of a necessity than anything else .... whether I liked it or not, I had to learn writing and recieving e-mails.
In fact my first mail ID was created by my younger daughter who was still in college studying Computer Science.
Later I learnt net browsing. It was double learning for me, a computer illiterate and I was miserably a slow learner. Above all I did not learn formal typing. Even today I use the good old 'Columbus' method for typing using only two fingers!
Now, to cut short a long story, seeing my long mails, both my daughters suggested me to start blogging way back in 2003-4! But I am a renowned lazy fellow. Now a friend of mine almost insisted I write blogs. This is the result - my first blog!
Even the template was done by him! Hope I will live up to the expectations of my friend and all my three daughters - the younger two settled in the US after their higher education.
Now that I have really started writing, rest assured, there will be regular entries in this site.
In fact my first mail ID was created by my younger daughter who was still in college studying Computer Science.
Later I learnt net browsing. It was double learning for me, a computer illiterate and I was miserably a slow learner. Above all I did not learn formal typing. Even today I use the good old 'Columbus' method for typing using only two fingers!
Now, to cut short a long story, seeing my long mails, both my daughters suggested me to start blogging way back in 2003-4! But I am a renowned lazy fellow. Now a friend of mine almost insisted I write blogs. This is the result - my first blog!
Even the template was done by him! Hope I will live up to the expectations of my friend and all my three daughters - the younger two settled in the US after their higher education.
Now that I have really started writing, rest assured, there will be regular entries in this site.
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