On Public Service

The Theory Of Mundane Entertainment

noreply@blogger.com (RohithCG) — Sat, 26 Apr 2008 18:49:00 +0000

Gone are the days when sports catered to the ‘civilized’ tastes of mankind. Sport itself called for a higher order of discipline – that of taming the physical body to meet the demands in mankind’s quest to achieve greater strength and fitness.

The Spartans had laid the foundations for sporting greatness. The city of Sparta was famous and renowned all over the ancient world for the strength, might and the skill of its athletes. While the Greek city of Athens had their intellect and wealth to rely on, Sparta scaled the zenith of its glory only by the perseverance and hard-work it displayed on the athletic field.

The Olympic Games being held now are a sad representation to the original Games which were held in the historical past. The frenzy, splendour and the pyrotechnics may perhaps outdo the ancient Games, nevertheless they were sacred. The sportsmen were worshipped. They were thought to be the reincarnations of the gods themselves. Athletes from different empires, representing different countries all assembled under the watchful eyes of Mt. Olympia to compete with one another in their quest for greater glory. They battled each other for the pride of their nation, and performed under strenuous conditions – the likes of which are only closely resembled by the rugged life of the army.

Back then, sporting might was no mean pushover. A country which could win the Games was always feared for its ruthless and mighty army. Entertainment acquired a religious significance with the arrival of the Games. Gods and goddesses were invoked to favour their athletes, sacrifices were offered, honourable druids were called upon to prepare the best health drink for the sportsmen – all this in a state of fervour and sincere excitement. Mounds of gold and mortal praise were promised be heaped upon the athlete who could return home as a conqueror.

No matter how big the ceremonial hero-welcomes were, and no matter the immeasurable wealth heaped by the world on him, to an athlete’s heart only one thing mattered most. Above everything that he could be rewarded with, and even above all the women that he could have, the sacred Olive Wreath was always the one thing most precious to his heart. It is sometimes worth pondering – How an insignificant branch of Olive, when placed as a crown on an athlete’s head, becomes the most precious possession and a matter of national pride. And yet, that is where the greatness of sports lay in. The reward for hard-work and perseverance, when coupled with honesty and dedication, not lay in that insignificant, humble olive twig but in the precious, deified Olive Wreath that now adorns the proud victor’s head.

But sadly with the changing times, our meaning for sports is getting distorted. That which once shared the same pedestal with religion, is now to satiate the beastly instincts of mankind. Sport has now related itself to all that is most unseemly and most unfortunate; and it has had to bear this blemish from the time when mankind turned it into a mundane form of entertainment. Ever since technology played a greater role in aiding the performance of the athletes, sports has gradually lost its glory. Where previously it used to be a testing ground for the maximum limits of mortal might and power, it has now lost its pride to the growing influence of money and technology in our lives.

The present-day games are therefore a far-cry from the sacred games played in those days. Shoes with golden studs, efficient grips and engineered spikes now adorn the feet of those athletes who once only ran bare-foot. Their feet sang the song of blood, pain and agony and were duly rewarded with glitz and glory. Their bodies ached and suffered, but struggle they did, being egged on by the thirst for victory. What mattered most to them was the sense of fulfilment and accomplishment which they experienced when they were crowned as victors.

Sadly now, sportsmen are paid to perform. This betrayal of sporting spirit will acquire greater significance in the aftermath of the fun-filled, frolicking cricket introduced to the world with the introduction of the IPL (Indian Premier League, just a sad imitation of the thrilling English Premier League). Of course millions have lapped it up greedily. To them, what excites them is the ruthless butchering of the bowlers by marauding batsmen. Cricket boards have drawn up extensive plans to market cricket as a commodity in the public space, and for this they have poured in much money.

Little do they know about the impact their desire for fame and money is bound to have. The consequences of this illogical attempt to draw masses to the cricket stadiums will be manifested only in the days to come. It seems as an irony to note how that people begin to define victory as not the triumph of skills and honesty, but as the result of brutally assaulting the weaker one into submission. Crowds cheer the victor. The media hails him as the conqueror. But sadly they fail to notice another Mr. Skilful rotting into the dust.

Power is welcomed and grace is out. Maybe this is a mirror of our present times. With money buying up everybody’s time, is it not sensible if money even buys up the people’s minds? And yes it is true. It is the hard fact.

If cricket, which once could boast of past-stalwarts like Sir Garfield Sobers, Sir Don Bradman, W.G. Grace, Viv Richards - the ones who played the game in its true spirit, has now been reduced to a brassy game where money and raw power rule the roost, it is a matter of great shame. Cricket was once referred to as the 'Gentleman's Game'. Now, sadly it is being turned into a bull-ring where players with tons of muscles on their bodies charge at each other. It has turned into a game where arrogance and fanaticism is now important, and not grace and healthy camaraderie.

And despite all the disapproval and murmur that are continued to be voiced out against this pawning of sporting greatness, cricket will continue to be commercialized. This will not be the last of their efforts to destroy the golden heritage of cricket. As days go by, men with more ambitious plans will occupy the lofty seats of its governing body. And while their buildings grow taller, and their coffers become heavier; as the stadiums they sell become bigger and the cricketers they market become stronger, cricket will continue its slide into the abyss of commercialization. It can never be expected to redeem itself out of there. Unless and until a true, inspiring leader arises, who will raise cricket back to the place it rightfully belongs.

Until such a time comes, we can have no more of the gracefully entertaining cricket. We can only buy what is marketed. And that, is powerful but mindless commercialization of the game. So sit back and enjoy. The next game is about to begin. The crowd bays for raw blood as another set of bowlers are taken to the cleaners. Is anybody listening?

The Fears Of A Youth

noreply@blogger.com (RohithCG) — Tue, 22 Apr 2008 15:31:00 +0000

It is surprising to see how rapidly the times are changing. With technology progressing at such a rapid pace, it is now becoming increasingly difficult for us to keep a tab on what is the latest gadget being used these days. It is shocking when you buy something from a showroom, and after a week later you come to know that the same thing is now sold cheaper and comes packed with more features! And I bet your heart would sink a little deeper into your diaphragm for a while. I suggest you should consider tying it up to some support if you wouldn’t want it to sink that often; because you will be having more of such ‘attacks’ with the rapid advances made these days. *grin*

Well, such a tremendous rate of technological advancement is really great. I truly appreciate it. I honestly do. But, everything cannot be termed good, healthy and appreciated. There is a flip-side - a few exceptions do exist here.

Oh, I think someone’s moaning that I’m gonna preach here. Well, this definitely will not qualify as a sermon. So, I won’t be taking much of your time.

And one such exception is the Television…

For the record, On Public Service is unique in its outlook and topics. And this blog would never tow another man’s line. What I’m going to talk about here is the effect of the television on the kids’ mentality. *don’t plug your ears. This is something different, seriously*

Yes, I am talking about that Big Box before which we spend atleast a couple of hours every day. From sports and cartoons to news, from movies to songs, it plays anything you could ask for, folks. In any language, from any region – it’s got all that one could possibly want. And what’s more? It comes loaded with a host of features, all at an affordable cost!

Gone are the days when playing in the sun had its charm. During the old days (say, a mere 10 years ago when I was a kid), playing outside had so much of charm and innocence in it.

Gully cricket, hide-and-seek, lock-and-key, Kings and dirt-football were some of the loveliest games I remember playing when I was a scrawny boy of about 12 years. In the church backyard, away from the disapproving stares of ‘the faithful’ we would gather together, about 10 dirty naughty boys – all scrambling and scuffling over a game of gully cricket. Of course, we always had a liberal view when it came to choosing games to play. Some days we did nothing other than see who could scale a 6-feet wall and jump off it. Other days we were just sportive enough to wrestle and tear off sleeves and pockets from one another’s shirts.

Getting dirty was something we always loved to indulge in. Splashing in the puddles of mud, tackling each other in the sand, playing an engrossing game of ‘Catchers’ in the pouring rain, and running about in the scorching sun were all part of the joyful bliss of childhood. To be clean, we thought was girlish. To play ‘civilized’ was considered unbecoming of a real boy.

After all it’s a boy’s world, and we considered getting dirty as an integral part of upholding the ‘true spirit’ of being a boy. We felt it was a matter of pride to get dirty.

Well, the times have definitely changed. And now we are all adults, having cleared the 20-barrier. am now a college student, pursuing my major in (B.E.) Electronics and Communication. Hence, it definitely makes sense when I talk about what’s going to follow.

We live in an apartment, and there are about 6 kids, all of the same age group between 5-9 years. I pass by them playing in the driveway everyday. And every time I pass them, I reminisce of my own childhood days. Those days when I was a mischievous boy…

Most often I stop by to enjoy their game. That is, if they play some game like cricket or football. And when I really am in the best of moods, I would offer to join them for a couple of hits or runs, and then carry on with my work. To laugh away and indulge in the land of bliss, free from all pain and worries would be something that I can afford to pamper myself with, every once in a while. I wish I can join them every time I see them play, but I can’t. And that is because sometimes I don’t understand the games they play. Those games were not the kind of games we used to play, and definitely they are not something I would have thought as good fun, back then.

And that is what I wish to talk about…

Almost everyday they play some game which goes like this:

The kids are running around here and there. And one fellow (obviously the catcher), runs behind them. He has his right hand held up like a gun and he chases the others around. The kid manages to see one fellow scampering away and he speeds up and manages to catch up with the slow runner.

“Zoom! I shot you! I used the Zippon on you, and now you’re stuck. You can’t move! You can’t move!”

Obviously the runner is just too reluctant to give up. He decides that he hasn’t been Zippon-ed, and he turns around and immediately a ‘terrific’ battle ensures. Now, the runner begins to Zap the catcher. Looking at the intensity of their ‘battle’, the frequent reloading of their machine guns and their saw-guns, the shrieks of the ‘wounded’, and the howls of the pursuers, I get the impression that these kids are plain dumb.

They are just silly…

Or, maybe they are retarded…

But definitely they are not enjoying their childhood the right way…

It sometimes looks ridiculous when they go on fighting over whether one of the runners was ‘Zapped’ or he managed to survive the shot and ‘Zip’ the Zapper. *the names are just tongue-twisters. No good for anything else* Sometimes I smile at them with so much of pity in my eyes, feeling sure that when they reach my age, they will regret all the wasted years – those golden years of childhood when their limbs were free to move and they never felt like dumb puppets on a string. Sometimes I wish to knock some sense into them by telling them what they play is sheer nonsense.

But I now know that they can’t help it. They can only play what they know. They just create games from what they’ve seen and heard.

Looking at them, I regret that the television, the cartoon characters and the numerous violent games have conspired together to make these kids seem so dumb. They are not low on intelligence. They are bright. They are actually smart.

Kids, so sweet and loving,
With their innocence –
Ever so charming;
And as long as you don’t –
Watch them play,
That opinion will surely stay.

And if they are so easily influenced by The ‘Idiot’ Box, their case seems to be very very appalling…

This is the kind of age we all live in. The violence around may seem cool and fun to the teenagers. And that is because they obviously know where the line is drawn between imagination and reality. And no amount of pressure or excitement could possibly tempt them to over-step it; all that’s fine because they possibly know their limits.

But sadly these kids may not grow up to remember and know their limits. And even if they are taught their limits, it would become increasingly difficult to stick on the safer side. As they grow up, technology and knowledge would only serve to gradually blur away these limits from their minds. It is true, because what is only served as theoretical ‘Moral Values’ will never reach them, as long as they don't practice it.

Looking at them, and watching the silly violent games they play, I shall always be proud of my own childhood. I shall be proud of the laughter and the tears I had back then; proud of the scars that remain from the fist-fights, the tackles and the scratches. We never lost a moment in enjoying the freedom that came with being young and innocent. And looking at the sad games they play, it makes me cling closer to my own nostalgias. Back then I would never have imagined that someday such kinds of games would ever be played.

And if we don’t take pains to teach the children how it feels to have the sun beating down their faces; to play in the pouring rain; to have their nails clogged with sand and their faces smeared with dirt; to play hard and fair until sweat pours down their faces and onto their shirts; to make friends over a bat-and-a-ball and not over cartridges and guns, it would soon be when they turn out into gun-totting teenagers moving under ‘shoot at sight or provocation’ orders. *definitely not this bad I hope, but I still fear the worst*

The future is ours to enjoy, only if we can learn from our past, and secure the present.

Until then I shall have my windows boarded up. My doors locked and padded from within. A pistol tucked under my shirt and a shotgun kept always within arms’ reach. While a couple of grenades are stacked away safely. Just in case I am out-numbered…

Maybe things would change. Or maybe they won’t. It’s up to us, friends. And we need to think about it.

Five Lessons You Need To Learn.

noreply@blogger.com (RohithCG) — Thu, 17 Apr 2008 06:58:00 +0000

I actually got this as a mail from one of my friends. Reading it actually opened my eyes about how selfishly we tend to live at times. By the time I had finished reading, I was literally moved. I could not help but think about how the times have changed. Back in the old days, these virtues were always instilled by elders in the minds of their children. Sadly, such virtues have been replaced by a greed for money and selfishness.

Read through this, and I hope you can actually learn something from it.

The lessons are simple, yet substantial...

Five (5) lessons to make you think about the way we treat people.

1 - First Important Lesson - The Cleaning Lady

During my second month of college, our professor gave us a pop quiz. I was a conscientious student and had breezed through the questions until I read the last one: "What is the first name of the woman who cleans the school?" Surely this was some kind of joke. I had seen the cleaning woman several times. She was tall, dark-haired and in her 50s, but how would I know her name? I handed in my paper, leaving the last question blank. Just before class ended, one student asked if the last question would count toward our quiz grade. "Absolutely," said the professor. "In your careers, you will meet many people. All are significant. They deserve your attention and care, even if all you do is smile and say 'hello.'"
I've never forgotten that lesson. I also learned her name was Dorothy.

2 - Second Important Lesson - Pickup in the Rain

One night, at 11:30 p.m., an older African American woman was standing on the side of the Alabama highway trying to endure a lashing rainstorm. Her car had broken down and she desperately needed a ride. Soaking wet, she decided to flag down the next car. A young white man stopped to help her, generally unheard of in those conflict-filled 60's. The man took her to safety, helped her get assistance and put her into a taxicab. She seemed to be in a big hurry, but wrote down and she desperately needed a ride. Soaking wet, she decided to flag down the next car. A young white man stopped to help her, generally unheard of in those conflict-filled 60's. The man took her to safety, helped her get assistance and put her into a taxicab. She seemed to be in a big hurry, but wrote down his address and thanked him. Seven days went by and a knock came on the man's door. To his surprise, a giant console color TV was delivered to his home. A special note was attached. It read:
"Thank you so much for assisting me on the highway the other night. The rain drenched not only my clothes, but also my spirits. Then you came along. Because of you, I was able to make it to my dying husband's bedside just before he passed away ... God bless you for helping me and selfishly serving others."

Sincerely,

Mrs Nat King Cole

3 - Third Important Lesson - Always remember those who serve.

In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10-year-old boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in front of him.
"How much is an ice cream sundae?" he asked.
"Fifty cents," replied the waitress.
The little boy pulled is hand out of his pocket and studied the coins in it.
"Well, how much is a plain dish of ice cream?" he inquired.
By now more people were waiting for a table and the waitress was growing impatient.
"Thirty-five cents," she brusquely replied.
The little boy again counted his coins.
"I'll have the plain ice cream," he said.
The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked away. The boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and left. When the waitress came back, she began to cry as she wiped down the table. There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies..
You see, he couldn't have the sundae, because he had to have enough left to leave her a tip.

4 - Fourth Important Lesson. - The obstacle in Our Path.

In ancient times, a King had a boulder placed on a roadway. Then he hid himself and watched to see if anyone would remove the huge rock. Some of the king's wealthiest merchants and courtiers came by and simply walked around it. Many loudly blamed the King for not keeping the roads clear, but none did anything about getting the stone out of the way.
Then a peasant came along carrying a load of vegetables. Upon approaching the boulder, the peasant laid down his burden and tried to move the stone to the side of the road. After much pushing and straining, he finally succeeded. After the peasant picked up his load of vegetables, he noticed a purse lying in the road where the boulder had been. The purse contained many gold coins and a note from the King indicating that the gold was for the person who remove d the boulder from the roadway. The peasant learned what many of us never understand!
Every obstacle presents an opportunity to improve our condition.

5 - Fifth Important Lesson - Giving When it Counts...

Many years ago, when I worked as a volunteer at a hospital, I got to know a little girl named Liz who was suffering from a rare & serious disease. Her only chance of recovery appeared to be a blood transfusion from her 5-year old brother, who had miraculously survived the same disease and had developed the antibodies needed to combat the illness. The doctor explained the situation to her little brother, and asked the little boy if he would be willing to give his blood to his sister.

I saw him hesitate for only a moment before taking a deep breath and saying, "Yes I'll do it if it will save her." As the transfusion progressed, he lay in bed next to his sister and smiled, as we all did, seeing the color returning to her cheek. Then his face grew pale and his smile faded.
He looked up at the doctor and asked with a trembling voice, "Will I start to die right away".
Being young, the little boy had misunderstood the doctor; he thought he was going to have to give his sister all of his blood in order to save her.

Lastly, this is a modest quote which we can all probably learn from:

"Work like you don't need the money, love like you've never been hurt, and dance like you do when nobody's watching."

I take the chance to give the due credit to:

Shaju Thomas Mathew - The First Sender of the Mail
Roshini Roy - The one who sent it to me.

Blogilemma!

noreply@blogger.com (RohithCG) — Mon, 14 Apr 2008 11:41:00 +0000

Blogs are very easy to create. It’s very easy. Trust me. You go to a blogging site, you create an account there, and you can begin blogging. You can. But is it easy?

That’s a nice question, eh?

I was browsing through this site, and it had a lot of ‘motivating’ sentences everywhere that often caught my eye. Feeling so pumped up to begin blogging, I thought to myself, ‘My hands are itching to start. I just can’t wait to begin blogging and announce my entry to the whole world. It’s so exciting. Oh! The amazing vistas that blogger opens for me! All I need to do is just begin blogging, eh? Just let me finish it!’

Apparently I was mistaken…

You can always create an account, and even create as many posts as you want to have! (Just don’t ask me how. Find it out for yourself!) But to post an article, oh my goodness! It’s a fright!

Look at me. It took me half an hour to get an account. But it’s actually taken me close to two years to get my first article posted. *bows with grace* Yes ladies and gentlemen, three years of perseverance, two accounts and umpteen number of posts which had died a ‘premature’ death. *I am spending a few minutes recollecting the sad fate of those posts I had mercilessly left to die*

Well even after such a long sad story of blogging failures, you can’t afford to blame me for it. Neither can you even think of labelling me - ‘A lazy goose. All that he knows would be to lounge around on a sofa all day, doing nothing.’ Or even something close to calling me a ‘couch potato’. (Er, did I say something now?) I’m actually rolling with laughter just thinking how would someone call ME a couch potato! Your Highness, your humble servant is 5’8” and he weighs only a modest 54kg. Rather than mourn about my thin frame, I’d rather be proud of my ‘graciously-given gift’ when I see scores of people line-up outside the gyms everyday to reduce their waistlines. Oh, the joy of being thin! (Well, that’s a different story, and we shall come to that later.)

To all you guys out there, who go on and on and on blogging as if you’ve never ever had any hiccups in your blogging history, blogging might sound very easy. Why, you might even say, “Oh, it’s just as easy as going and grabbing a drink from your fridge. It’s that easy, believe me man. I do it everyday! And, to think of posting only one article a day is also too tough for me. I rely on my instincts to blog.”

I like that word 'only' there. It’s fits there snugly, don’t you think?

*Please pass me a tissue, I’m broken* *sniff* *sniff*

But seriously, ask so many others who have spent sleepless nights thinking on what should be their first post. It is not an easy job. Take any newbie for instance, and the Blogilemma he faces, is not a joke. It’s The Worst Dent on his brimming confidence. The part which hurts the most is that he is unaware of the perilous battle with Blogilemma which he will have to face very soon. This is narrated as follows:

Would you like to create an account?
Oh wow! Goody Goody! I get to own an account!

It’s a blogging account, sire.
Never mind, never mind. It’s even better. Yes, I’ve heard about blogger. They’re owned by Google, isn’t it? Well, that’s lovely! Get me one. Get me one!

Your Highness, What should your post name be?
Oh that… um.. Let me see…. Er… How about, ‘The Golden Story’?

Sorry, that’s taken.
Oh sad… Try, ‘The Daily Read’?

Nope…

*he wakes up to the reality, with this question popping into his pea-brain*

Heck, if it’s that tough to create a post-name, then blogging is going to be _____!

*You can fill it up using as many words and as many letters as you can possibly think of. It depends on your taste of vocabulary, friend.*

And so, our dear Mr. Thinker gets a name for his post, and he settles himself comfortably into his couch. And he begins to think of a ‘Breaking Start’.

Let’s have a peep into his brain to see how he goes about it…

Let me organise myself first. What are my tastes? *a pile of them, tumble into his brain*

Oh wait! Wait! Not that fast. Let me prioritise them, in the order of… um… preference! *the tumbling pile slows down, but a few more, hitherto unknown ones, also manage to creep in*

Our Mr. Thinker sighs loudly and begins to sift through the huge pile.

This is one is good! Cookery! Ah! That’s something I’m very good at! Now, what shall I write about?

Like a flash screen, a few names scroll themselves on the blank sides of his wall and now we can find him sifting through them.

*Chinese cookery* - no, there’s got to be a million Chinese who are blogging there. I wouldn’t wish to be ‘repetitive’. *get the hint? He wants to post something that’s unique! If you would excuse me, I shall have a good laugh!*

*How to cook a sumptuous meal by yourself in 10 minutes* - I would love to learn how to cook that, but I can’t write.

*Home Secrets of Indian Cooking* - I got to call up my grandmother for that, and the phone is beyond my reach now. And anyways, there might be a few Indians too who are blogging by now.

He stirs himself up with the realisation that a post on cooking isn’t going to be easy. And he selects the next topic. What could that be?

It is teaching…

*My views as a teacher* - That might not be unique.

*How to handle a bunch of kindergarten imps* - That’s interesting. The last time I did handle them, I survived with a broken tooth, a pair of broken spectacles and a torn ledger. Ah, that bunch of freaks!

He decides to give up thinking. Apparently his brain is now over-heated…

Poor Mr. Thinker feeling exhausted after thinking hard and long decides to indulge himself in an Extra Large Bag of French Fries, and a bottle of Coke. He’s got his hands and stomach finally working right, folks. We can all leave him in peace now.

And www.blogger.com/start still waits for its user to sign in and begin his blogging. What a pity! If only it could have seen and heard how he thought hard to himself for a good start! *Sigh*

Thanks to the Blogilemma that every newbie faces, his plight will also be the same.

A sad… unpreventable… Vicious cycle…

*The curtains now draw to a close, and your humble servant, the Narrator steps onto the stage*

I think I’ve done enough to highlight the sad plight of thousands of potential bloggers for whom blogging successfully is still only a myth. No guides, no ‘how-to-blog’ or ‘tips-for-blogging’, can ever help them out. They have to fight Blogilemma. If they emerge victorious, they can realise their dream.

And as for me, I’m glad I’ve won that battle which had raged for two years. I’ve just published my first post.

Yes, I have posted. And boy! Am I glad to have finally begun!