wonder what's next?

The prince and me (2)

thoughtroom@gmail.com (Thought Room) — Wed, 22 Apr 2009 14:25:00 +0000

Why I wrote the previous post was because for most of my life I believed that too! But of late I have begun doubting it. The belief that this world, is limited to my perception of it, is very unsatisfying and seems philosophically weak. It remind me of a spoilt child, who has managed to get his way, and now believes that his relation with his parents are only in terms of his contentment. It feels very self-centered and blind. Almost like a religious belief in mans superiority, and hence the belief that this world was created for him! With the aid of our inventions and discoveries we now have the opportunity to see the world beyond our wildest dreams, we can see this world through creatures we could never have imagined and through space and time! Yet if we cannot acknowledge it with awe in spite of the turmoil in our personal lives, in spite of the satisfaction, or joy we derive from it, would it not leave us as merely infants, never wanting to grow up!

The prince and me

thoughtroom@gmail.com (Thought Room) — Tue, 21 Apr 2009 21:10:00 +0000

There is a line in the book” The little prince”, written by French aviator Antoine de Saint-Exupéry's which has bothered me for a while. The little prince talks of the stars and how they have a special meaning because he knows that some where among them his little planet with his special rose is, waiting for him. There is also, one line where the desert would not hold that much attention, but for the belief that some were in it is a well that will quench our thirst.

Does this world need to have a purpose to make it beautiful and profound? Does something have to be important based on how well it satisfies our physical, mental, emotional or spiritual needs? Does this reasoning mind need to analyzes this world, give it stories or researches its atomic constituents to feel a profound sense of grandeur to share it?

Always a woman to me.

thoughtroom@gmail.com (Thought Room) — Fri, 13 Mar 2009 10:25:00 +0000

Well women’s day has come and gone, and like usual I let it slide like any other day. Mostly because I had my hands full, and also because that day is my personal reminder or a mile stone in my journey that tells me that I am getting older. I did not miss the opportunity to read up on what others thought during women’s day, which varied right from washing machines to the intricacies of right from wrong! And for once I paused to contemplate on what I thought of myself as a woman. I know I know few people have misgivings about that! (sniker, ….sigh! I am getting a little mean with my humor)

For all my life, what I though about myself was almost a copy of what others though about me, which is to say not much! My definition of myself was an echo of my immediate surrounding, so I could proudly be defined as a daughter to some one, a sister to someone, a wife to some one and even a mother to some one! I could even be a grandma! If my husbands family tree is right! and I have not even reached 35.(sigh don't ask) I was a feminist when I echoed certain thought, or a traditionalist when I echoed some!... the list continues. But I have been amazed that through all these, I had shaped myself based on preconceived definitions of what I aspired to be, rather than what I really was. I took the road that lead me to shaping myself to suit or belong to a collective of people, be it a family or a circle of friends. The desire to belong shaped my identity to such an extent that I perhaps lost track of who I really was.
So I decided to take this journey to the space between my two ears. Who was I as a woman! I then stared at an identity I had made for myself based on what I did. Here my past as a working woman collided with my present as a child welfare specialist(Heh) This had left me hesitant and sometimes ashamed to take on the title of a recent stay at home mom, or a working from home mom. Though this was a part of who I was, did it tell me who I was as a woman? As a women I have often been prone to the whims and fancies of my hormone driven mind! Did this part of my existence define me as a woman? Was I the women that Maya Angelou writes of in her “Phenomenal Woman”
.
”I say,
It’s in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.”

Though all this could be me, it was not me! Honestly. A part of our identity can never be the whole.

So I look for a part of me that once was unaffected by all these changes that was a not necessarily the complete me, but lay at the core of my identity!(talk of narcissism) I see this girl, sitting on an iron gate, swing her leg, chewing a juicy sugarcane, who loves the sweet scent of the cane that mixes with the warm breeze of the Indian summer that carries the scent of the eucalyptus grove through which she watches the world flicker by as it rushes past, under the light of a golden dusk. This girl sits in her white petticoat, unaffected by definitions, sometimes twisting an eucalyptus seed and watching is spin like a top, or watches birds and clouds dressed in hues beyond the range of her favorite crayons. There is in her the inquisitiveness and freshness of a child in her wonderland. To her this world is endearing, and full of opportunities to learn! In short she is human- a part of what makes her a woman.
This part of my identity I often step over and fail to see as I seek to find out who I am, and mix it up with who I want to be. As I write this, warm hands cuddle me, and a face as fresh as the spring morning proclaims clearly and loving that I am “the best friend” One more identity joists for a place like a new god in the pantheon of deities.

Collectives Religion and Swamies

thoughtroom@gmail.com (Thought Room) — Wed, 11 Mar 2009 14:22:00 +0000

I miss blogging, and decided to peep in for a while!

One of my favorite bloggers Mr Krishna Ashoke, in his latest post talks about swamism in India, and his objections with it. This post has left me thing about the approach atheists have towards the object of their dispute. The swamis, as KA says or religion as it is generalized, has a social obligation since it has his metaphorical hand in the metaphorical pie of the mind of its followers. Thus its teachings are responsible of the social and moral state of its people. Religion once was a governing body and hence had this obligation, perhaps. But in today’s democracy does religion or its swamis have such an obligation? After all democracy proclaims that people have a right to choose, and they can choose not to attend speeches, or switch off the TV. What they choose to see and follow is within their right, and every one has a right to his opinion and also a right to proclaim it in public. Other wise we would not have writers, philosophers, or even bloggers. Of course this right has its limitations but does it include ignorant rants, or biased view points? One is allowed these rights as long as it is within the socially accepted language specifications. So when an atheist condemns religion, or its preachers, he is questioning this fundamental right. This approach often leads to insane arguments that often leave the subject and get personal.

This argument I sometimes feel is in par with an argument that equates terrorism with Islam. Will removing Islam from the equation, or the swami form the picture solve the problem. History has taught us of the human nature of war and violence. This nature exhibits itself despite the motive or religion. What fuels this nature is the platform called the collective! Morality to most of us is an acquired concept, taught to us as a part of our social and cultural lessons. While we learn that murder or theft is bad in a personal level, this concept gets distorted when culture or society is added to it. For example killing another is termed murder and is condemned and prevented under persuasion of punishment that involves death. But each society has an army, which will willingly kill another person for protection of this society, and will remain free of the guilt or burden of murder! Under the banner of collective, once realizes that certain unacceptable social moral values could get accepted.
Take for example, eve teasing! It is something that every girl faces. But in a society where the blame falls on the girl, the collective has distorted a moral value, where a victim takes the blame for a crime. Till this moral value is changed eve teasing will continue! Under the cloak of collective ism, a person’s acquired moral value fluctuates. But collectivism is an instinct in man! Can we change this? What perhaps the atheists need to focus on is this collective. Raising the social and moral awareness of individuals in a collective is more in need than the need to fight the institution called the collective! In the book Happiness Hypothesis, the author talks about how the prominent atheist forget the advantage of a collective and its importance in evolution! But when one studies the social and cultural impact that man sometimes suffers from, I wonder if collectivism is an advantage? I mean if the people of Hariyan were a collective! With their dwinding girl boy ration they are heading for their own end!

Still alive!

thoughtroom@gmail.com (Thought Room) — Mon, 26 Jan 2009 15:01:00 +0000

It has been along time since my last post. I do apologies for the delay, and a heart felt thanks to all those who have been concerned about me, especially Roop and SnS. The reason for this is that I have been very buzy with this.

It has been my dream since I could read Amar chitra kata, to create a comic. But I neither had the talent or the vision to do it. As I drove into adulthood, I remained only a minority among my general acquaintance to view comic as a means of entertainment without age barriers. I adore the visual medium within the pages and have spent quite a lot of my school days copying and drawing from these comics. Then I came across more different comics, including the caricature filled Mad comics, and the darker and gothic Neil Gilman’s sandman series. I don’t think any one who has read the later would ever consider comics as a means of entertainment for kids. The rich and disturbing visuals will haunt you for a long time after you read the books. The story is another thing. It will blow you mind away. Then came anime and manga. Need I say more. I still did not venture into my own creations, because of barriers forced on by a fear of making a fool of myself, and not being good enough. But now I realize that my life is passing me by, and I better get on with my dreams how ever mediocre it may be. So here I start on a new beginning. I wanted to declare it to the world after I had done a little bit more, but realized I could do with a little criticism and encouragement. So don’t feel shy. Go ahead and be brutal, and honest. It is a beginning and I have a long way to go. I hope to learn from this process. I will not totally ignore this blog. It is just that I need to find a rhythm, and then multitasking will be easier. Thanks again for all your concerns.You can head to my comic at www.kinnaricomic.com

Youth and Terrorism.

thoughtroom@gmail.com (Thought Room) — Fri, 28 Nov 2008 07:01:00 +0000

“The surest way to corrupt a youth is to instruct him to hold in higher esteem those who think alike than those who think differently”

Friedrich Nietzsche quotes

This is a quote that I can’t help but associate with the latest terror activities that are happening in Mumbai. Eye witnesses seem to think that the men with gun and grenade were mostly young boys. The nature of their attack shows a certain disregard for their lives, almost like a suicide attack. They held hostages, but made more of a statement with their deeds than any demand could make.

Youth is like the beginning of summer, a time where idealism and hope, bestow youth with a mental tinted glass on the nature of mortality, where a cause or a resolved takes as much of a precedence as the self absorption of infancy. Youth have always been at the helm of all change and revolution. Be it our very own National Independence movement, or the one in China, or any where else. What is it about youth that is attracted by a cause?

I remember the time when I was fresh into my teens, when the recently late Mr V P Singh’s Mandal commission, took the spotlight of a momentary idealistic aspirations. I joined my group of friends and older role models in the protest march, and cried and cursed V P Singh all through. It was the first protest march; I had taken part in and gave me a sense of righteousness. I felt a belief that I was a single drop of water that had the power to become an ocean. I don’t remember now even if I understood the nature of my power or who I was handing it to. It was no more coercion than was religion to childhood. It was the nature of water I swam in and I was still the proverbial frog in the well.

The other incident that comes to my mind was in the two years I studied in a women’s college. It started early one morning, when a group of us students were trying to make our way into the chemistry lab, when we heard a scream. Investigations revealed a distressed young student, who explained that a man had collided with her while she was entering her class. She calmed down enough to explain that it was perhaps a relative of the old watchman, who lived in a small hut across the college campus, who got drunk and fell asleep in an open classroom, and rushed out once he woke to the noise of the approaching girls. We discussed this incident, speculating if it would be the end of the watchman’s job as we went into the lab. The elements of the periodic table soon grabbed our attention, and when we came out of the lab, we were surprised to see that the students had started a full scale protest march. The morning incident was unrecognizable, and had become a rape attempt. The protest was headed by a girl-woman we had not seen in the campus before. She was a fine speaker and was telling the girls about how our principal as a male would never understand the need for the safety of us college girls. She reminded us of all the horrors of sexual harassment we faced in the name of eve teasing and how an Indian male was desensitized to a woman’s feelings and fear. Her excellent talk took us away from analyzing who she was or what her motive was to join in the protest, as she was not a student of the college. Of course she talked about the very things we faced every day, and had within a matter of minutes converted us to her cause. To cut a long story short, the girls were enraged enough to spray paint the principals car, and break the windows. It was a mob, with power, and we as participants had given power. In our righteous anger we had failed to see a misdeed, or even acknowledge it. What brought me to earth was when the principal addressed the crowd, in controlled rage. He pointed out that as a crowd how we had failed as human beings. We in our collected righteousness had objectified the target of our hate, and failed to see the other side as human. In short, in our urge our collective power, we lost our power as thinking humans.

Why I write about these incidents is because this terror attack might have a lot to do with youth, and idealism. Terrorism was to me a criminal activity, and hence I associated it with, an irrational, desperate or even a mentally insane person. In a society were security is a norm, an antisocial element, was clearly a person who lacked mental empathy. We are further egged on by a mass media, which associates terrorism with religious fundamentalism. It creates in our mind a view that religion and its end gain causes terrorists and suicide bombers. Our own acquaintances further create a view where we only see our sorrow and despair, and not see beyond it at what exactly is the root cause of terror. We blamed failed governments and security systems, when in reality, a public place and a democracy cannot really help in providing a 100% safe public place.

Are youth who are willing to die for a cause, really socially unfit, uneducated or economically challenged part of the society? Are they easily molded by recruitment camps, which talk of the pleasure of the after life, if they fight for a cause? Do they really need incentives to fight for a cause?

In reality, many of the youth are educated, and not really socially or economically deprived. Neither do they really lack in family support systems, as we can find out from the youth from Bangalore who was caught in association with the recent London bombing. What then leads them to believe in terror as a cause? It is perhaps has a lot to do with social conditioning, and subtle and direct message the society and social group they associate with give to them. It tends to objectify the people that the social network around the youth doesn’t see eye to eye with. He no more sees the world in terms of a thinking human, but only his kind as human. The government and controlled media exposure to the opposing party tends to further emphasize this outlook. In this society, I don’t necessarily include, Islamic fundamentalists and their basic recruiting cells for the youth. It is every day individuals like parents, and role models. This with the idealism of youth gives him a skewed view in the nature of mortality. He now starts to see himself and his purpose in life, as a freedom fighter with a cause, rather than, a terrorist. There humanity is lost and terrorism begins.
In conclusion, youth in terrorism, does not reflect on individual idealism or lack of empathy, nor does it reflect the coercion of Islamic groups alone, who urge recruits by monetary gains or by heavenly prosperity that Islam offers. There is a saying “It takes a village to raise a child”. It means that ideals are not merely changed by religious coercion, but emerge as a reflection of the deep-seated insecurity that resides in the very society that creates these youth.

Edited to add: A military operation to flush out the terrorists and battle them out, is an immediate solution but may prove harmful in the long run. It is like exterminating Pests with chemical solutions. It appears to have immediate effect, but has harmful side effects. It is perhaps time for countries that have home grown terrorists, to reflect on the source of the problems, address the insecurities of its populace and find ways and means to harness its youth power for a more productive purpose. Otherwise they are in the process of shooting their own feet.

I'm fed up to the ears with old men dreaming up wars for young men to die in.
-- George McGovern

The things we do

thoughtroom@gmail.com (Thought Room) — Fri, 21 Nov 2008 15:24:00 +0000

While chatting up with a very dear friend, the question of why she did not blog arose. Her answers reminded me of my self some time back, and I decided to find out for myself why it is that I blogged. Blogging after all represented everything I did not want to do. I did not want to go public, have nightmares about putting my thoughts forward only to be laughed at, or even still ignored. Blogging by its nature represents only the transitory nature of my thoughts. It is a view of a handful of water from the pool of my thoughts. In this it becomes both a representation and a misrepresentation of who I really am. It puts my short comings in full view and allows strangers and friends to bare my shortcoming, ignorance and hypocrisies in a brutally honest way. To a person who has a habit drilled since childhood, that one has to be the very best at what ever they endeavor to do- being mediocre at something is a matter of shame and disdain, this hobby is quite disheartening, then why is it that I blog?

To me blogging is like an education. It gives me a space to get my thoughts out, and reflect on them. It tells me where I am emotionally and intellectually. A dairy is equally adept at doing it, and has a bonus of keeping me private, but what it lacks is conversation
A blog is like a conversation. It is like words originating from thought that is a momentary echo of a mental phase. It also invites opinions of others, their reflections that force me to think of issues beyond the horizon of my vision. It not only tells me about who I have become, but also places me in a mental geography. The words and line of reasoning reflect, my emotions, my influences and my prejudices. The difference between a dairy and a blog is the difference between meditation and a discourse.

It is a matter of discipline. Blog is a public space. It is a reminder of not dwelling into personal and private matters, that tend to be the root cause of depression in me. It forces me to look beyond myself into the world. It is a mentor, who reminds me of all the things I don’t know. It has helped me reach voices I would like to hear, and learn of things I did not even care about. Blogging need not be a literary feat, nor does it need to be a platform to showcase oneself. It does not have an obligation to be an intellectual stimulant to its audience. It can act as a mirror you hold in front of you so that you might somes time look to see what you have become. A platform that is public enough to challenge your outlook, and private like a face in a crowd.

Something good.

thoughtroom@gmail.com (Thought Room) — Mon, 17 Nov 2008 14:24:00 +0000

This is such a nicely written post, on the proper way to be a woman.

The chandrayan 1 dance

thoughtroom@gmail.com (Thought Room) — Sat, 15 Nov 2008 13:50:00 +0000

A little dance for the chandrayan! Pictures at ISRO web site!

The Bus Campaign

thoughtroom@gmail.com (Thought Room) — Sat, 15 Nov 2008 12:35:00 +0000

The American Humanist Association is all set to start a bus campaign of their own. What intrudes me is the question they put forth.

Why believe in a god?
Just be good for goodness’ sake.

History tells us, religion was a governing body, or held a great influence over the governing body in various countries. They donned the mantle of protecting law and order, by preaching morality. They held an effective champing which started at the cradle and which people took to the grave ( in some religion, managed to take it far far beyond). But with the growing strength of governing bodies, that strive for the independence of the church and state, the responsibility of morality falls to the governing bodies. The lingering trend to believe that religion alone carries moral responsibilities shows the reach and effective ness of moral preaching from the cradle to grave that religion uses. Does that mean that the governing body that makes the law and order should start a more aggressive champing, to gain the mantle?

In most societies morality is associated with progress, a mechanism by with, we as a group don’t shoot our own feet as we walk forward. The idealistic slogan of the American humanist association to be good for goodness sake, makes me wonder…is it possible for a society to be really good for goodness sake, without the punishments or rewards associated with it? I mean if people can be good without religion, can most of humanity be persuaded to be good without law and order too?

A Debate!

thoughtroom@gmail.com (Thought Room) — Tue, 11 Nov 2008 19:49:00 +0000

A says:
Bertrand Russell’s essays are amazing to read. In this essay he argues that the concept of god is unworthy of a free thinker. I don’t agree with him there. Indeed a free thinker can think of god, and all concepts of it. He could even believe in the concept of god when he has deeply analyzed this concept and come to the conclusion, based on his research alone and not prejudice. Just as he could think otherwise, based on the same reasons.
The other thing he mentions is science can give answers. I have noticed many atheists also basing their beliefs on science. In my opinion science too is half- knowledge. We learn something new every day. What we knew 50 years back, is very different from what we know today and will in all probability change tomorrow. It is the metaphorical equivalent of stepping in a river with a strong current, with the correct balance, we might flow with it, but we cant set roots in it, and make it the foundation of our beliefs. What I am getting at is, Darwin’s theory, or the theory of the big bang, are theories, just as Copernicus and Aristotle, once had theories. (Forgive my spelling). Science is ever learning. A person should keep that in mind while he researches his belief.

B Says:
The main point is that Science changes with empirical facts. Religion does not. So an atheist can change his belief pretty easily if he is devoted to Science. A religious person will not stop believing in his doctrine if it is proven wrong.

A Says
I have heard a theist argue that religion changes with time too. Just like for science, the finding of the truth is the anchor, around with all theories revolve and change. They argue that god is the anchor around which religion and its doctrines have changed over a period of time. In this argument I do not include hard core religious fanatics, but an average believer who will insists that he believes in Darwin’s theory of evolution and in God.

B Says:
Religion does change with time, especially on issues like evolution, etc. What I meant to say is that if science disproves the central theory of a field, say on gravity (bear with me here), then scientists and atheists will, if the evidence is sound, discard the central theory on gravity. If reincarnation is discovered to be false and reincarnation is the central doctrine of a religion , religious followers of that religion would not stop believing in the doctrine or evade/deny/modify it.
But then you can argue, it is very hard to disprove a ‘central’ religious belief.
Say someone proved definitely that there is no God, would religions modify or change to accommodate this belief?
Yes, I know, it is very hard to prove/disprove God, but humor me for a second.

A Says:

“If reincarnation is discovered to be false and reincarnation is the central doctrine of a religion , religious followers of that religion would not stop believing in the doctrine or evade/deny/modify it.”
Your argument would be the same the other way round, If Darwin’s theory of evolution, or the big bang had not been found out would some of them still be Atheists?
The answer both ways round would be the same. Yes! and I will substantiate my statement.
First of all Atheists existed before scientific theory that is common today existed, because their argument was based on the philosophy of how a man should live rather than God-or how the world worked. In the same way belief in God existed before theories of re-incarnation came into the picture. The various doctrines and rules were set about by people who manipulated this belief to suit their needs. For example, take Christianity or Islam for that matter, If we study history of civilizations we know that they are somewhat younger than other religions and beliefs, they just replaced the existing beliefs of those places.(sometimes after bloody wars)
“Say someone proved definitely that there is no God, would religions modify or change to accommodate this belief?”
The answer to that too is a yes!. And the proof is the development of Buddhism. Perhaps Buddha and few other philosophers disapproved of where Hinduism and its priests were heading and decided change it. Buddhism at its best does not believe in god of any form (though it does believe in re- incarnation). But have you looked at Buddhists today? Have you been to Buddhagaya? Pilgrims come from Sri Lanka and other places just so as to pray there. There Buddha is worshipped as god. The very saying “Buddham Sharanam Gachami”, says it all. The aim of a true Buddhist is Nirvana, then why is not the favorite Buddhist mantra “Nirvanam Gacchami”? Why has” he to seek mercy at the feet of Buddha?”
The reason is peoples need for the fantastic or the supernatural. It perhaps gives them a peace of mind while they go about their daily lives, with all the bigger mysteries of the world solved so easily.

My real aim of bringing Science into this discussion was to just say that science and religion are best when studied apart. Science should not be mixed with religious issues whether for or against.

B Says:

Being close to atheism (agnostic), let me assure you that if there was scientific proof that the universe is the result of intelligent design and there was a God, atheists and agnostics would not have trouble changing their affiliation. Of course, there might be some people like Dawkins who would be eternally angry at this outcome, but atheist and agnostics really do care about scientific proof and *are* flexible.

A Says:

Let me ask you some thing, if the research on the god gene and the investigation of heritability some how helped, prove that god existed, you said that all atheists and agnostic (and all other types of believers) would readily believe in god, So in that scenario will racism, cast system, and all the killing and torture in the name of religion that is going on- will it be acceptable? After all if he existed and did not raise a hand to save his children, it means he encouraged it.
Most of atheists and all the other kinds of non believers have taken their stand not because of god itself, but the moral implications and rules that religion has got around it. Their stands in this matter is because of the advantage religion has taken in the name of god over a common mans mind and spirit. There in the true spiritual quest is lost.
Science has conveniently answered many questions they would be otherwise without. In my opinion, however science should not replace religion. Instead science should be free to investigate on its own.
If a researcher based his investigation on his personal prejudice chances are it will reflect in his work, there by making it incomplete. (It could also provoke controversy causing more loud debate, threats to his life, making him very popular and rich, and may be he would start his own tv show : ) What I am getting at is when research is free of prejudice, there is more chance for true discovery.

(This was debate, in an old site in mutiny.in. Sadly when the author moved to the new site, this bit of the argument was lost.

Fairy tales and skeptic thought

thoughtroom@gmail.com (Thought Room) — Fri, 07 Nov 2008 19:38:00 +0000

Richard Dawkins in his interview about the after retirement plans mentioned that he wanted to find out the links between fairy tales and childhood beliefs, and skeptism. It would be a wonderful research to read. I have to emphasis at this point that he does not hold any stance towards this topic, and is only interested in hardcore evidence that he is on his way to finding. But I wonder if a child hood filled with stories that are fantastic and full of magic and wishful thinking, cloud rational thought in a child?

Stories have existed as long as language has existed. While some researchers consider story telling merely a form of entertainment, others feel it is a tool of education. Stories are an important part of behavioral education of childhood. It is a shortcut into the social dynamics of a culture. A pool of knowledge and wisdom gained and stored and passed on to another generation, so the process of reinventing the wheel does not happen. It is also a vehicle to condition a mind into the required moral behavior of a culture. So then how does a frog turning into a prince or existence of a dragon or a pumpkin turning into a carriage deal with the above issue? In simpler terms, how does a feat of imagination serve as a tool of education when the very source of knowledge is invalid? Has not this type of story telling made us believe in non existent monkey kings and floating stone bridges, which affect the path of (progress?). Where does education end and irrationality take over? Is indeed story telling to be blamed? Should story telling be replaced with rational education?

As far as I can remember I have been a sucker for stories. I was the kind who would not have taken to reading if it was it for the fact that the effort to read held as a reward a wonderful world all for me. It talked, sang, and brought color to a world I did not live in or know. Where a very different tribe walked on the very soil I was now treading on. There were others like me in other corners of the world. They lived and died, and were happy and sad, and were every thing I was and more. They pulled at my heart strings and momentarily converted me to their cause. The characters lived a life so different from my own. I listened to stories in languages that I did not know very well, and read of countries that I would never dream of visiting. Of the strange creatures they imagined and the qualities they held at a pedestal. They were so different and yet they were same. They have woven fear and bravery into their stories that were their very own, and they yet taught me more about my self. Did it cloud my judgment? Did I believe that they were truer than my present life? I never for a moment thought so at that time. They were stories, and that was clear to me. If I visited those strange countries I knew that I would visit those characters only in the imagination of their people, as I would only see Rakshasas or Devas here only in the imagination of our people.

The demarcation was clear, but now I realize that a lot of my beliefs have been influenced not by the stories, but by the people who told it, and how and when they choose to tell it. Stories when read objectively act as educational aids, but when they are used as tools to satisfy emotional needs they stop walking on rational grounds.

For example if I read a story of Baba Yaga (I loved Russian fairy tales and their illustrations), or Cinderella, they were stories because the essence was never re referred to me and taught as life lessons. The lessons I learnt were objective conclusions, and they taught me of another culture, and their views of good and evil, and what they thought was justice.

But if I read a story of how Shiva outwit his wife, and proving that he could feed every creature of the world. And this lesson was emphasized to me, as a means of pacifying my horror at seeing a beggar woman’s blind child, that essence of a faith based thinking sticks to my mind more than any cultural or moral lesson,. Stories then stop being educational tools, and become a source of comfort, and leads away from rationality and skeptic thought, into waters of faith, and belief. Here is where the death of an art form occurs. From merely being an artistic representation of a thought it steps into thoughtless blind faith. Should the knife be blamed for the murder, or should the hand the held it get the blame?

Are Indian women less skeptical than Indian men?

thoughtroom@gmail.com (Thought Room) — Tue, 04 Nov 2008 23:29:00 +0000

In the middle of some group chatting a few days back, the topic of skeptics came up, and one observer was bold enough to say in a group with strong female representation that there were very few female skeptics and rational thinkers among Indians. Well the group discussion buoyed on the topic for some time before drifting off to other topics but left me wondering. If I analyze my family and close acquaintances, I found that it held true. There did seem to be the rare Indian woman who turned her back to superstition, pseudo sciences, blind faith, wonder cures, god men…the list continues. I have to acknowledge the presence of quite a few agonistic men in my acquaintance, and may be 2 to 3 outright bold outspoken rationalists and skeptics. So is it really true that women are less prone to critical thinking that men in India?

To start my pondering, I have to admit that skeptic thought is quite a rare quality among the majority of the Indians who are buoyed through their quest for life in oceans of faith sometimes badly disguised in mists of spirituality. Indians tend to choose their ideals and mentors among men and women who are more famous for their material success. They seek a validation of their beliefs amongst people they term successful, and not necessarily intellectuals. Faith perhaps has its origin in the first step to knowledge, but skepticism is the boat that tends to make the journey through knowledge. If one does not question one does not move beyond the first step.

Coming back to the topic in hand are women really less prone to critical thinking, and if so why. Considering the people around me, I see both men and women drift towards faith and yet away from skeptic thought in order to gain some control over their life and situations. Does the scale tip towards irrational thought in women because Indian women have more to loose than men when things go beyond their control? Does it have to do with bookish knowledge or exposure to other views and philosophies that is lacking in the Indian educational system. And does this affect the girl child more in a culture that sometimes sidelines a girl’s education in favor of the boys?

Does rationality depend on social pressure and upbringing? You see the epitome of an Indian woman is one who’s life revolves around the appeasement of her family, which has a list of qualities including being religious and sacrificing her body mind and soul to the welfare of her family. Her habits and thinking are usually conditioned since childhood to fulfill this goal. Can critical thinking rear its ugly head amidst this social pressure and conditioning?

Or is a woman by instinct more ready to believe that some one has cast the wicked eye on her child, rather than believe that her child has the flu that will go away after a while.

When an Indian woman says “I would rather not take chances and scumble to superstition (ward off the evil eye, or keep wearing the ‘Tali’, fasting for the welfare of her husband or consider myself impure for a few days every month, and light the special ghee lamp because some astrologer or god man warned of bad fortune in case it is not followed)….. Than take my chances and suffer, talk about merely her phobias, the lack or rational thought, or does it have a deeper implication of how a misfortune will affect her not only emotionally but socially also?

What happened is…

thoughtroom@gmail.com (Thought Room) — Tue, 07 Oct 2008 14:13:00 +0000

I got hit by a muse of meteoritic proportions. In short I chanced upon an idea that was simply brilliant. The problem is- that ‘brilliant idea’ is not a fact but a personal opinion. But like crazy ideas that crazy people sometimes have, it has swept me off my feet into an enchanting world of hope and personal flattery. The whole thing could conclude like an incipient hindi cinema, of the 70’s with memories of beautiful music while the rest of story eludes us. But I have this terrible urge to see it through how ever the idea might turn out in the end. So till this brief madness passes I am afraid that this blog is going to get the Cinderella treatment. (pre fairy god mother time). In the meanwhile like testing the waters of the Amazon in the hope of friendly piranhas, (you can have a go at criticizing without flattering the ego) I wish to leave you with this little glimpse of what I believe to be the best thing that can happen to stories.

Thankyou for all your concerns. I am really glad to have you guys as friends. It is the best medincine for my blue days.

Arranged marriages and love marriages

thoughtroom@gmail.com (Thought Room) — Wed, 10 Sep 2008 19:02:00 +0000

I read a post in Roop's blog, where she talks about Marriage in India. She echo’s a friends definition that ‘Arranged marriage is, in fact, a criminal suppression of freedom of choice!’ And it could be termed ‘socially accepted prostitution’. Reading her blog brought to my mind an essay I read a very long time back, written by Prof Balagangadaran. The essay was addressed to Jeffrey Kripal. And titled ‘India and her traditions- a reply to Jeffrey Kripal’. It is a beautiful essay, one that has left me musing and wonder on the nature of my prejudices. He argues on the western imposed views on Hinduism, and I wish to apply this very philosophy to this essay.

To talk about arranged marriage, in India, I guess one has to understand how Indians approach the idea of Marriage and family. It has its roots in various places including economic, cultural, and ideological nature of Indians. Family in India is the smallest social unit. Being a society of joint families for most of its cultural life, Indians view a family as an important form of identity. It is a miniature model of bigger social organization of say, a village or country, which sees co-operation and organization for successful running. This set up has its flaws, where economic flow can change the focus of power, just as it does in a country. But I am not arguing the nature of power that makes a family patriarchal, or a country capitalistic.

This family unit finds its social security benefits in its own economic resources and man power rather than depend on a Government (Lacking) social security. To an Indian family, its children are its social security and to its children, its family. In such a scenario, a marriage is viewed in terms of what a new addition to a small social unit can bring to the plate. Thus marriage is a family matter, and not only the choice of the individual. In marriage a family gains an ally similar to them, and the individuals involved gain a social security net, that takes care of the individuals in times of plenty or adversity. Just as we as individuals would like to spend our lives with like minded people, a family looks for similarity in terms of tradition and habits, when it includes a new member. While youth approaches marriage in terms of love and similarity, older people approach marriage in terms of comradery, distribution of responsibilities and easy integration of the added member. Added to this is a society that does not see a mingling of genders, and a skewed view of sex, and love. Men and women do not mingle with each other freely enough to understand each other. So arranged marriages gained prominence, though it was not meant to crush the spirit of the individual. Would a love marriages work in this social structure? That would depend of the what the individual views in his criteria for love, and make love sound cold and calculating.

What is fascinating is the growing trend among today’s people to view this social unit as a burden to the every growing spirit of individuality, which the west seems to postulate. In the west, social security is a governing body’s burden, which is woven into an individual’s life style. Here the need and the idea of a social group are fast changing. This is reflected in their view of what constitutes a family, and marriage. It has reduced to such a nuclear extent where a marriage itself is sometimes viewed as a license to rape!. A growing trend includes ‘live in’ relationship without the cumbersome bondage of the marriage tag, to burden the individual spirit. In such a society, relation ships are formed on individual needs, unhindered by social structures. The social security of the vulnerable part of the population is taken for granted as the government’s burden, that people tend to be callous in their quest for individualism and life.

Perhaps in the quickly changing society in India, both in terms or economy and culture, the concept of arranged marriage, becomes an outdated concept, that begs for change. But one must realize that the changing part of the Indian society is only the fraction of the whole, which is still dependent on the family social unit for its identity and security.
Would it be then just to call an arranged marriage as a criminal suppression of freedom? Or a legalized form of prostitution? By viewing marriage as a way parents decide who we sleep with, just shortens the concept of what constitutes a marriage to only a sexual relationship. It leaves me embarrassed, and defensive that marriage is only a means of a progeny and a way of sexual gratification. It would be like reading the whole history of Indian independence, and naming only Gandhi as a freedom fighter.

Edited to add: The post that started it all. Sindhu first wrote about this.

Nausicaa of the valley of the wind

thoughtroom@gmail.com (Thought Room) — Mon, 08 Sep 2008 19:29:00 +0000

This is a book series review, (that is not a review). Just sharing a wonderful book that could leave you thinking, and sighing. The first book I am writing about. It is just that I finally have been able to complete my collection of this 7 part book (manga) by Hayao Miyazaki. I enjoy Japanese anime and Hayao Miyazaki’s name can’t be far behind. The first movie of his I saw was ‘Spirited away’. I had the fortune of reading the books of the Nausciaa before seeing the movie.

This was a story that took 12 years in the completion. The movie of the same name was done after finishing the first 2 books, and differs a lot from the manga which are great if you are interested in a journey, and not the destination. The name ‘Nausicaa’ is based on the Greek princess of the Odyssey, as portrayed in Bernard’s Japanese translation of the Greek mythology. It is also based on the character of a ‘princess who loved insects’ a Japanese story, which talks of the princess who found more delight in studying insects and other creatures, than in cloths finery and men, that was the favorite occupation of princesses of that time.

In a few short centuries, Industrial civilization has spread from the western fringes of Eurasia to sprawl across the face of the planet. Plundering the soil of its riches, fouling the air, and remolding live forms at will. This Gargantuan industrial society had already peaked a thousand years after its foundation: ahead lay abrupt and violent decline. The cities burned, welling up as clouds of poison in the war remembered as the seven days of fire. The complex and sophisticated technological superstructure was lost; almost all the surface of earth was transformed into a sterile wasteland. Industrial civilization was never rebuilt as mankind lived on through the long twilight years- The book introduction

The story is based on a probable future, where the earth had been destroyed in the '7 days of fire', a catastrophe caused by man’s industrialization . Leaving the earth, air and sea in poison. There are very few places on earth that are inhabitable, while the rest are covered in what is termed the sea of corruption, which is a forest of giant fungus and strange insects that live despite the poison. Humans who inhabit the little space spend their time in bloody war in order to fight for sustenance and dominance.

Nausicaa a princess of the kingdom called the ‘Valley of the wind’, travels far from home and comfort, in search of questions and answers that are woven in to the very nature of the world she lives in. She bonds with insects and humans alike, trying to put an end to the madness and nihilism that prevails, when thought gives way to despair in a quest for survival. A beautiful series of book to read and possess.
What remain with you are the characters that are so beautiful and identifiable. I am afraid that if I explain further, I cannot stop without telling the whole story, and that will take a long time, and still will not do justice with words alone.

The picture is the front cover of vol 6 published by Viz media

Life gets complicated

thoughtroom@gmail.com (Thought Room) — Wed, 03 Sep 2008 10:56:00 +0000

For the past week the family has been held hostage in the hands of ill health, giving a reluctant ransom of mental peace and time. I do ask forgiveness for not being involved, in many wonderful discussions, but would like to redeem myself by unloading the burden of a gift and warm wishes I received.

Thanks to Indian home maker and Imps mom. This award was meant for brilliant blog design, and brilliant content. Thought this blog hardly comes under both the category, I accept the warm encouragement that it brings with it. I started this blog, as a way of bringing out the inner person that is highly opinionated, yet wishes not to be involved in confrontation. She is elusive and evading, and disguises herself brilliantly behind an un interesting character who borders on depression, caught in a reluctant role of a mentor and guide, to the most amazing and brilliant mind the world has yet to see(A view of very parent). While I hope the limitations of my mind do not provide a handicap for a budding genius, the inner person just snigger's at the lack of ambition, and disappears at any sign of anger. This blog has been a way of bringing that inner person to the front, so that the depression does not take deep roots, and most importantly, because I can finally pin down the rogue, and demand explanations, without sounding too much of a bore. Thanks for the encouragement.

While I can’t assume that every one I admire and read would like this form of self indulgence, I would like to pass on this award as a form of encouragement to a few who I admire, and bold enough to admit that I admire.
Rags, whose brilliance shines despite the limitations of words, blogs and time. Hope you continue to blog. I love lucy, for warm friendship.

The rest of whom I know and admire in the blog world seem to have already got the award.

Greed

thoughtroom@gmail.com (Thought Room) — Fri, 29 Aug 2008 18:43:00 +0000

Inspired by a post by Ageless bonding!

What is Freedom?

thoughtroom@gmail.com (Thought Room) — Wed, 27 Aug 2008 14:01:00 +0000

Freedom by general conscience has become a virtue, thus many a time it is bound by this very adjective. It rides on the wings of happiness, and happiness is in turn a slave to the society. In such a case is it really free?

Consider 2 women. One lives in a relatively free society. Here her nature is no more scrutinized than the nature of others. Yet she chooses to exercise her freedom to confine herself to the social interpretations of a society that believes that she does not have the right to be free.

The other lives in a society that confines her nature at every turn, imposing its norms and values on her life. Yet she finds ways to battle this oppression, to exert her free spirit.

Who is really free?

Power and Feminism

thoughtroom@gmail.com (Thought Room) — Sun, 24 Aug 2008 21:25:00 +0000

Previously: Creativity
Since my last post, I have realized that I have contributed to the great gender divide, where man and women stand of either side of this divide, each with a desire to find superiority in some way , which in turn may never build a bridge in the understanding between a man and a woman. I would like to say that I feel that the masculine and feminine terms of creativity and power as I have come to understand of late are concepts which show distinct characteristics, which are different from each other. They should not be used as the base of understanding or dividing the male and the female of our species, because these qualities are not distinctly the trademark of a particular gender. Qualities what we possess, are acquired through our experiences which we have accumulated, which we have in turn interpreted, to suit our definition of what constitutes a successful life, which help us survive in this world. So though these qualities are apposing forces, sometimes, they are not just specific for a gender, but have been unfairly been made an adjective for the gender. But since social interpretations of these differences have been termed masculine and feminine, I will for the moment continue in this language. More over the masculine and feminine traits of power and creativity, as I see it of now, could be associated with the primordial nature of gender, which hopefully the thinking species has moved far from. But this disclaimer does not mean I have moved away from my argument that the dominant qualities of masculine nature can only be apposed by further dominant nature from the feminine species, for its survival.

The Etymology of power comes from an Anglo-French word Poer, which means ‘to be able to’

A Webster definition goes like this.
1 a (1): ability to act or produce an effect (2): ability to get extra-base hits (3): capacity for being acted upon or undergoing an effect b: legal or official authority, capacity, or right2 a: possession of control, authority, or influence over others.

Power is an abstract concept much like creativity which at its base can be called as a means to act and change. This definition, finds a division from that point on by many philosopher and writers who try to analyze it. That was what brought the gender adjectives to this term. Where the masculine adjective sees power as ‘power over’ something, to gain an outcome, the feminine nature see in power in one’s self, which in turn changes other around you, which in turn changes the outcome.

Masculine power finds itself a dominant power in today’s society, which gives certain criteria to the definition of success. This power inhibits growth and creativity. As women tries to fine her place and power in the already male dominant power system that is today, she finds her voice only while emulating the exalted qualities of masculine power, such as aggressive domination, making a social hierarchy, to place herself in a superior position, and finding ways to keep the social hierarchy intact by any means possible. A through study of Work place bullying, both by men and woman bullies will give an in-depth view of this scenario. Studies have found that this in turn affects the progress of the company, as a person wielding the masculine power, finds new talents a threat to his or her position, which is more important than the progress of the company. Their rise to power has been primarily because of these qualities and they would not be willing to relinquishing this power to the next talented person, as their survival depends on this nature. It is a jungle out there and their position as the alpha male is in question. This masculine power while being dominant thus lacks vision. Yet it finds itself very popular in today’s society.

Are you saying that women should not aspire for greater power because they inevitably become bullies themselves? That women should restrict themselves to cooking and cleaning at home and taking care of babies, and not aspire to make something big out of their lives because that will involve having to be a part of a male hierarchy which will make them bullies

No, that is not what I mean, I just wanted to point where Masculine power lead to. Aggressive male power is not the only kind of power. You yourself have written beautifully before

‘However I've also seen that when a woman (or a man for that matter) wants to prove herself and conquer something sky is the limit. Men usually treat these type of women differently with much more respect than they would treat other ordinary women. You cannot change the attitudes of the society in a day but you can make them treat you with more respect if you prove yourself’

That is a beautiful way to talk of another kind of power. It does not talk about power over others, but power that is the change in oneself, which becomes a catalyst for the change in others. This is the kind of power that makes dream leaders. People who lead by inspiration. This power is futuristic, but will it have longevity in a masculine power dominant system? It would be an idealistic dream but being realistic I don’t think so. Where I differ from you in this point is that I feel the need for balance. An ideal marriage between these two kinds of power in a person seeking power will be the best way to go.

As women seek to rise to power in today’s society, it would be a good move for them to realize this and not loose one over the other in their quest for identity and recognition. Where women’s emancipation is concerned, vision less short term success will prove disastrous. This society is highly judgmental and unforgiving to people who fall. We have very often lived with the label of what makes a woman. Women’s emancipation hence requires not just women in power, but women with the right kind of power, because it reflects on the rest of her kind, as she rises up the pyramid of Hierarchy.

Feminism and Creativity

thoughtroom@gmail.com (Thought Room) — Thu, 21 Aug 2008 16:17:00 +0000

I have never taken to Feminism always deeming it a form of insult, and also finding its debate lacking in a lot of common sense or logic. But perhaps those adjective should be based on the person who espoused feminity rather than the concept itself. I have since realized that in order to discard or accept a point of view, I have to actually know more about it, than simply accept well written essays, echo ideas of others and quote appropriately. I cannot say that I have been taken in by feminist concepts, but I dare say it left me in a state of mind quite equivalent to a form of torture that involved one body, and many horses, all pulling in different directions, challenging the cohesion and adhesion capacity of bones and muscles.

I have also had to come into terms with my own thinking, and the gender nature of thoughts that have been nurtured and trained into me since childhood, that has replaced instinct with thought. To survive in this world, certain ‘virtues’ where persuaded and knitted into the web of my thought that might have over ridden my natural inclinations and instincts that could have guided me and mounded me. This observation has not been easy to accept, since it requires me to doubt and differentiate between my instinct and molded habits. So I try and start from some basic concepts that feminism as I read it tries to explain.

“I don't believe the male form of hierarchy curbs creativity (depends on how you define hierarchy actually). In fact there have been more men involved in the creative fields rather than women. -Rags”

Creativity is often given a feminine attribute, and it has been argued that masculine nature of hierarchy often curbs creativity. But counter to such an argument the world has seen a lot of creative men, and in fact very few women. Creativity is an abstract concept that gets measured in terms of art, literature, music, poetry, and inventions. In all these concepts it has to be remembered that creativity has as much part to play as skill, skill being the dedicated sweat that a person puts to refine an art which is a way of expressing creativity. When I look into the history and culture of Indian art, as with many other cultures, I have often found that the starting point has often been women. Take the folk arts of India, Be it Worli, painting, or Madhubani, or Patachitra. They have been ‘women art’ until economic importance has been given to them. Then men have taken over, making a creative expression more of an art form- more masculine than feminine. Take music, classical music has it origins in fork music which has yet a feminine origin. Where women sang as they went about their daily lives, and expressing their views on the world around them. But when economic importance was given, it became an attraction to men. Even simple wisdom and philosophy that the folk women weaved into their stories got taken over by story tellers and later philosophers when it gained importance and popularity. What I am getting at, is the masculine nature towards art and creativity. It involves an element of profit, in terms of fame, fortune, or any kind of expression of superiority. This puts the feminine nature of creativity in mundanity, and not so exciting light.

Many a time in art, skill is confused with creativity, and is often accorded more importance. Masculine nature of creativity converts it into an art, which depends as much on skill as creativity, while the feminine nature of creativity takes a metaphysical nature. Does the absence of women in the field of art that is inclusive of both superior skill and creativity, indicate a lack of skill or dedication to attain perfection? I don’t think so. To gain superiority in skill requires years of dedication. In short a full time job. More over the position of superiority is coveted and often challenged, which makes Art a job of a life time, if one wants to remain, a perpetual superior. Woman by her nature already has a job in hand, when she takes on the mantle of mother hood. Social attitude imposes this job on her at a very early age. If she were to sharpen her skill she would have to sacrifice her role in the other job.

So when comparing men and women in art forms, women start out with a disadvantage, don’t they? Give today’s life style, where a woman does not have to carry the mantle of mother hood, I see woman in the same light as a man in terms of skill and dedication.

When men took to competing and excelling in ‘Art’, the Creative expression of women, were deemed as crafts. (Weaving, basket making, embroidery, clay-terracotta crafts) It will take quite a revolution for crafts to gain the respect of art in terms of creativity. And even then, when will masculinity leave feminine creativity alone, without imposing a competitive and aggressive edge to it? Will in such a scenario such a creativity be recognized as a virtue? And just because of this aggressive imposition, should the feminine form of expression, be discarded as a weakness?

Related reading:Concept of power, feminism, and Mahabharata

power and feminism

Tradition, Modesty and confidence.

thoughtroom@gmail.com (Thought Room) — Wed, 13 Aug 2008 16:21:00 +0000

Long ago I read a story in the readers digest, I forget the title but it could well be Jonny Lingo and his 10 cow wife. The story goes like this.

When I sailed to Kiniwata, an island in the Pacific, I took along a notebook. After I got back it was filled with descriptions of flora and fauna, native customs and costume. But the only note that still interests me is the one that says: "Johnny Lingo gave eight cows to Sarita’s father." And I don’t need to have it in writing. I’m reminded of it every time I see a woman belittling her husband or a wife withering under her husband’s scorn. I want to say to them, "You should know why Johnny Lingo paid eight cows for his wife."
Johnny Lingo wasn’t exactly his name. But that’s what Shenkin, the manager of the guest house on Kiniwata, called him. Shenkin was from Chicago and had a habit of Americanizing the names of the islanders. But Johnny was mentioned by many people in many connections. If I wanted to spend a few days on the neighboring island of Nurabandi, Johnny Lingo would put me up. If I wanted to fish he could show me where the biting was best. If it was pearls I sought, he would bring the best buys. The people of Kiniwata all spoke highly of Johnny Lingo. Yet when they spoke they smiled, and the smiles were slightly mocking.
"Get Johnny Lingo to help you find what you want and let him do the bargaining," advised Shenkin. "Johnny knows how to make a deal."
"Johnny Lingo! A boy seated nearby hooted the name and rocked with laughter.
"What goes on?" I demanded. "everybody tells me to get in touch with Johnny Lingo and then breaks up. Let me in on the joke."
"Oh, the people like to laugh," Shenkin said, shruggingly. "Johnny's the brightest, the strongest young man in the islands, And for his age, the richest."
"But if he’s all you say, what is there to laugh about?"
"Only one thing. Five months ago, at fall festival, Johnny came to Kiniwata and found himself a wife. He paid her father eight cows!
I knew enough about island customs to be impressed. Two or three cows would buy a fair-to-middling wife, four or five a highly satisfactory one. "Good Lord!" I said, "Eight cows! She must have beauty that takes your breath away." "She’s not ugly," he conceded, and smiled a little. "But the kindest could only call Sarita plain. Sam Karoo, her father, was afraid she’d be left on his hands."
"But then he got eight cows for her? Isn’t that extraordinary?"
"Never been paid before."
"Yet you call Johnny’s wife plain?"
"I said it would be kindness to call her plain. She was skinny. She walked with her shoulders hunched and her head ducked. She was scared of her own shadow."
"Well," I said, "I guess there’s just no accounting for love."
"True enough," agreed the man. "And that’s why the villagers grin when they talk about Johnny. They get special satisfaction from the fact that the sharpest trader in the islands was bested by dull old Sam Karoo."
"But how?"
"No one knows and everyone wonders. All the cousins were urging Sam to ask for three cows and hold out for two until he was sure Johnny’d pay only one. Then Johnny came to Sam Karoo and said, ‘Father of Sarita, I offer eight cows for your daughter.’"
"Eight cows," I murmured. "I’d like to meet this Johnny Lingo."
"And I wanted fish. I wanted pearls. So the next afternoon I beached my boat at Nurabandi. And I noticed as I asked directions to Johnny’s house that his name brought no sly smile to the lips of his fellow Nurabandians. And when I met the slim, serious young man, when he welcomed me with grace to his home, I was glad that from his own people he had respect unmingled with mockery. We sat in his house and talked. Then he asked, "You come here from Kiniwata?"
"Yes."
"They speak of me on that island?"
"They say there’s nothing I might want they you can’t help me get."
He smiled gently. "My wife is from Kiniwata."
"Yes, I know."
"They speak of her?"
"A little."
"What do they say?"
"Why, just..." The question caught me off balance. "They told me you were married at festival time."
"Nothing more?" The curve of his eyebrows told me he knew there had to be more.
They also say the marriage settlement was eight cows." I paused.
"They wonder why."
"They ask that?" His eyes lightened with pleasure. "Everyone in Kiniwata knows about the eight cows?"
I nodded.
"And in Nurabandi everyone knows it too." His chest expanded with satisfaction. "Always and forever, when they speak of marriage settlements, it will be remembered that Johnny Lingo paid eight cows for Sarita."
So that’s the answer, I thought: vanity.
And then I saw her. I watched her enter the room to place flowers on the table. She stood still a moment to smile at the young man beside me. Then she went swiftly out again. She was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. The lift of her shoulders, the tilt of her chin the sparkle of her eyes all spelled a pride to which no one could deny her the right. I turned back to Johnny Lingo and found him looking at me. "You admire her?" he murmured. "She...she’s glorious. But she’s not Sarita from Kiniwata," I said.
"There’s only one Sarita. Perhaps she does not look the way they say she looked in Kiniwata." "She doesn’t. I heard she was homely. They all make fun of you because you let yourself be cheated by Sam Karoo."
"You think eight cows were too many?" A smile slid over his lips. "No. But how can she be so different?"
"Do you ever think," he asked, "what it must mean to a woman to know that her husband has settled on the lowest price for which she can be bought? And then later, when the women talk, they boast of what their husbands paid for them. One says four cows, another maybe six. How does she feel, the woman who was sold for one or two?" This could not happen to my Sarita."
"Then you did this just to make your wife happy?"
"I wanted Sarita to be happy, yes. But I wanted more than that. You say she is different This is true. Many things can change a woman. Things that happen inside, things that happen outside. But the thing that matters most is what she thinks about herself. In Kiniwata, Sarita believed she was worth nothing. Now she knows she is worth more than any other woman in the islands." "Then you wanted -"
"I wanted to marry Sarita. I loved her and no other woman."
"But —" I was close to understanding.
"But," he finished softly, "I wanted an eight-cow wife."

The story is remarkable. It talks of how our attitude affects who we are, and how this attitude is in turn affected by how we think the world perceives us. In this world were we take our fellow travelers of life for granted, and don’t mind trod ding on a few feet to maintain the tribe nature of the group, this story seems beautiful. Take the example of the Indian traditions, the concept of modesty. The burden of these heavy words often falls on the shoulder of the women. The reason for this is a complex social movement starting from a hu’man’ desire for war and dominance, were the women and children were found to be the most vulnerable, and hence bearers of this burden. We have in turn created a world that is marginally free of war, yet just as vulnerable for its women and children. To many Indian men, tradition and modesty, are not merely tribal concepts but have become beauty criteria for choosing a mate. The concept of tradition and modesty has taken a meaning and conformity of its own, sometimes beyond the reach of the common reasoning. Modesty has changed from being a group idea of what constitutes distasteful, to a personal take on lust prevention. When a group takes this attitude that the burden of lust prevention lies not on the bearer but the target it talks of how the target perceives herself. What a woman thinks of her self in her immediate social surrounding, is the source of her confidence or lack of it. Will the Indian man who sets the burden of modesty and tradition on his woman, truly find the value and meaning of an 8 cow wife?

Old comics

thoughtroom@gmail.com (Thought Room) — Mon, 11 Aug 2008 18:51:00 +0000

This week end, I was inspired to clean up old clutter, which was my treasure in my days of pimples, and geeky glasses. I oohed and aahed to unimpressed audience that included a 3 year old who ran around the house holding a baby photo of mommy, and a few dead spiders. Among the most treasured of these items were a bundle of Indrajal comics that included Bahadur and Mandrake the magician. They were now yellow with age, but still intact, and included the old advertisements and crazy ‘did you know ?’quizzes. I spent the whole day just browsing through them, and letting the unfinished task remain that way. Some books were bought by dad long before, but many of them held names I did not even remember, perhaps guilty remains of unreturned books that mysteriously disappear when kids exchange books. Names of old forgotten friends, who now remained only names in old forgotten yet treasured memories. It brought a lot of smile to our lives, and the two adults in the house spent a lot of time reading yellow dusty pages, and talking of half remembered childhood, much to the bemusement of the little one, who could not understand how any one could spend a beautiful day, among dusty and musty books, and threatened to tear apart and brought a fit of sneeze if closely examined. Here are some smiles to share, with a Do you remember question.

Do you remember Henry the bald kid?

The famous Dippy squash advertisement.

The famous Gul-cose biskeet as my grandpa used to call it.

This was too thrilling. The camera of the 80's with its special features for Rs60. (excluding taxes)

This is my all time favourite. I must confess this ad was the secret of my artistic success. I have drawn meena more times than I can even remember.

There was chaky the characters whose drawings used to come alive, sampath, the super smart kid, Ripley's believe it or not. To tell you the truth, I can go on listing. But I will take this opportunity to ask you instead what you remember?

The girl who scilenced the UN for 5 minutes

thoughtroom@gmail.com (Thought Room) — Fri, 08 Aug 2008 18:17:00 +0000

I am sure a lot of people have seen it, but just in case.... There are a few times in life we pause and think for a moment. She makes me do it more often.

The scented eraser.

thoughtroom@gmail.com (Thought Room) — Wed, 06 Aug 2008 13:23:00 +0000

There was a smell of wood shaving and baby powder, mixed with a hit of fruit in the air. It was mingled with the smell of body fluids that always seem to make its way into the kindergarten class room. Little M adored the fruity smell of a small scented eraser, and brought it often to her nose to relish in this small pleasure. It had been a gift from one of her many relatives who visited, just yesterday. The relative had been a bit inconsiderate in gifting only one eraser, in a family with more than one kid. Her mother had painstakingly cut the eraser into tiny bits, to distribute it between the kids, and also saved some in case it got lost, and tears needed pacifying after stern words.

It was the last minutes of the class, and little M and her friends were quite unaware of this as they bent around their picture books naming flowers and fruits. There were more flowers than the ones little M had seen her grandma do pooja with, and more fruits than she had eaten. Needless to say she emerged from her page of pictures in a puzzled state, glancing instead at Chitra to see how she was doing. Chitra was the brightest student in the class. She was beautiful, and always got the teachers praise. She knew her words and numbers, and never misplaced the 6 when writing up from one to ten. If nobody knew an answer, Chitra inevitably knew it. And as a prize she got praised, and the coveted post of the assignment collector in the class. Little M’s and Chitra’s mothers were friends, that Little M had seen her mom displaying pride at Chitra’s achievements. Rumor had it that she even knew her 2 times table. Little M was too little to realize the handy work of the green eyed monster of jealousy, but something about it call out to her. If Chitra could get the praise and attention from the teacher, then she little M could find a way to achieve the same. Chitra obvious to this scrutiny was bent over her work. Towards the end the teacher declared that the students could finish christening the fruits and flower at home and bring it to her the next day. There were still a few minutes before the bell rang, and since she had to meet the principal immediately, she told the students to remain quite, and color the pictures, till she returned.

Normally little M would have joined in the merriment that students find in the absence of the teacher, but a recent praise that Chitra received, was still fresh in little M’s mind. This was little M’s moment. She loved coloring. Her father had declared her as the family artist. She would do the best coloring ever and take the praise right from under Chitra’s nose. She carefully placed her small scented eraser at the corner of her desk, and opened the box of crayons with relish. She was soon lost in the world of colors. She might not know the names of the fruits and flowers, but she was sure what they ought to look like. She colored, obvious to the festivities in the class-the sign that the day was at its end. She even, snapped at Manoj, her bench mate, for shaking the desk, as she sat coloring. As she was choosing between the red and green for her water melon, a hush fell upon the class. She looked up to see the teacher storm in with a look of anger. She explained in anger that she had heard the class from even the principal’s office, and demanded to know who made the noise. When the class came to a horrified silence, she said,

“The principal and I heard the noise, so obviously there has to be a few culprits. Who ever was making the noise please raise your hands”.

Little M, knew enough about adults to know that if guilt was admitted it never came to any good. So she wondered who would admit to it. She had also been told to never tell a lie, and she uneasily wondered if telling Manoj to stop shaking the bench constituted making noise. A few hands went up, and Little M noted that Chitra’s was one of them. She was wondering if she should follow Chitra’s example, when from the corner of her eyes, she noted that her scented eraser was not in its desk corner any more. She panicked. She looked under the desk, her stomach clenched, grief starting somewhere in her throat. Under her desk, she found her red crayon, which looked like a road kill, under Manoj’s foot wear. Angrily she salvaged the remaining of her red crayon, while still looking for her precious scented eraser. Amidst the search, she noted that the teacher was letting the kids who had admitted to making noise, go home. There was some talk about the value of truth that little M did not register clearly as her mind was occupied with her search. Between the gaps of the half open door in the back of the class room, she saw her brother giving her murderous look for being late, and not coming out of the class with the few who had been let out. The rest of the class had to stay back for 15 more min as a punishment. Suddenly Little M noted the scented rubber on the floor, close to the neighbor’s desk. It had a muddy look of being trodden on. But she was sure it was her precious eraser. She disappeared under the desk, trying to get to it, and had a fascinating view of a world of legs and shoes amidst dirt and pencil shavings. She wiped the little piece of rubber on her uniform, and held it close to her nose, to get a whiff of the smell that was slightly fruity. It was hers. She was right. Delighted she emerged out from under her bench, to stare right into the face of the teacher. She held her eraser up to show her excuse, obvious to the giggles around her. But the teacher was looking at her book, and all the coloring she had done.

Did you do all that when I had gone out? The teacher demanded, turning the pages of the picture book. Little M nodded her head a little apprehensively, not knowing if she would get scolded for this. A teacher who rewarded students for admitting guilt had confused little M. What if the teacher scolded her for doing as she was told?

Little M emerged out 5 minutes earlier than the rest of the class, but it did not matter to her. 'Have you been lying?' Her angry brother demanded once outside. 'Chitra told me that you were being punished for telling lies. I am going to tell mom all about it'. Even the threat from her brother did not matter. Little M was obvious to her brothers anger. Look she said pointing to her book. The teacher gave me a ‘good’, and I found my scent rubber. There was a smile in the face a disgruntled brother could not replace.