Thursday, October 2, 2014
One Earth: A Night with the Reptiles
One Earth: A Night with the Reptiles: My children had been to the night camp at crocodile bank in Chennai through scho...
Saturday, September 27, 2014
A Moment of Glory
When the mail inviting me for the event came, I had to excuse myself as I was traveling that evening. Then I got a mail telling me I was a winner.
Now that changed everything and after much agonising, I decided to risk going there. Oh what a sweet surprise was in store for me!!! The first prize in Romance!!!!
Of course we were getting late as the event stretched beyond expectations, but when my name was called out and I walked up to receive the prize, it was as if my efforts had finally borne some fruit. Getting published by Pageturn was the first step, but this one was a recognition of a different sort and just gave hope in a new direction.
With hope comes a sense of responsibility - that I continue to write different things and that too, stuff worthy of note or at least consideration.
Friday, September 19, 2014
Unconditional Respect
Yesterday while driving on a busy street, I noticed an old man trying to cross. Just as he thought he got a clearing, a two-wheeler came rushing down to cut his path and the man stepped back.
Not an unusual sight. I have heard my father complain about the impossibility of crossing certain roads. I recently took my mother out and was surprised at how, in the last one year of restricted movement and commuting only by car if needed, she found the roads that she had traversed with as much alacrity as her age permitted, unsafe. I don't even send my children to the road outside my gate for fear of speeding vehicles though at their age, I remember being sent to the local shops several times in a day.
This syndrome of treating the road as personal domain is a result not just of the high one gets from the powerful engines and the speed associated with it but our own attitude to the world. I think it is a consequence of the attitude - 'only 'I' matter(s?). If you want respect and consideration, earn it. Till then, I shall act just as I please.'
The suave may have cultured ways of expressing it. But when practiced by the uncultured or the pretentious, it borders on to aggression and insensitivity. It transgresses boundaries and interferes with others' rights and lives, disturbing them in ways that do not make us any respectable.
Have we forgotten the question, "What do I do to deserve respect and consideration?"
I will not hark back to ancient times, for the brash and the bashful existed at all times. In fact, aware of the human tendency to become selfish and self-centered, the stress was on respecting lives, be it other humans, animals or plants. The question asked was not whether they deserve respect but whether we have it in us to be respectful.
I can understand well why. When I pause to give someone way, when I try to put my needs behind, the heart expands and the feeling of well-being spreads through my body. When for some reason, even genuine, I dig my heels in, I feel closed and tense like a taut string. Certain situations cannot be avoided. But that moment need not define the respect I give the other. I can and must learn not to colour my attitude of respect with a moment of disagreement. If disagreements continue, I can maintain my respectful distance.
Giving respect is an act not for the benefit of the other person, but ourselves. It makes us better humans and let's strive for that.
Not an unusual sight. I have heard my father complain about the impossibility of crossing certain roads. I recently took my mother out and was surprised at how, in the last one year of restricted movement and commuting only by car if needed, she found the roads that she had traversed with as much alacrity as her age permitted, unsafe. I don't even send my children to the road outside my gate for fear of speeding vehicles though at their age, I remember being sent to the local shops several times in a day.
This syndrome of treating the road as personal domain is a result not just of the high one gets from the powerful engines and the speed associated with it but our own attitude to the world. I think it is a consequence of the attitude - 'only 'I' matter(s?). If you want respect and consideration, earn it. Till then, I shall act just as I please.'
The suave may have cultured ways of expressing it. But when practiced by the uncultured or the pretentious, it borders on to aggression and insensitivity. It transgresses boundaries and interferes with others' rights and lives, disturbing them in ways that do not make us any respectable.
Have we forgotten the question, "What do I do to deserve respect and consideration?"
I will not hark back to ancient times, for the brash and the bashful existed at all times. In fact, aware of the human tendency to become selfish and self-centered, the stress was on respecting lives, be it other humans, animals or plants. The question asked was not whether they deserve respect but whether we have it in us to be respectful.
I can understand well why. When I pause to give someone way, when I try to put my needs behind, the heart expands and the feeling of well-being spreads through my body. When for some reason, even genuine, I dig my heels in, I feel closed and tense like a taut string. Certain situations cannot be avoided. But that moment need not define the respect I give the other. I can and must learn not to colour my attitude of respect with a moment of disagreement. If disagreements continue, I can maintain my respectful distance.
Giving respect is an act not for the benefit of the other person, but ourselves. It makes us better humans and let's strive for that.
Friday, September 12, 2014
Enslaved
The seasons change slowly, gradually. The flower blooms at leisure. The waves crash or relax, determined solely by the will of the wind. The clouds drift at their pace, relishing the view of the earth, going where the breeze takes them. The seed sprouts if the conditions are right and grows into a tree enjoying the process. A dog runs either for food or to sleep. A cat forages furiously and spends the rest of the time languidly, its belly full.
"It's 11.33!" exclaimed my husband.
"Oh ok..." should have been my response. It is information that hands are touching specific numbers in the clock. But I reply with equal urgency, "What! Oh my god!"
Why? I ask myself. Why do we live with an eye always on the clock. And force our children to too.
"It is 7.45, and you are still not in the bath!"
"It is 8, eat fast!!!"
"Oh my god! It is 8.22 and you are still eating?"
Is this how life was always, or have we fallen victims to some disease, disease called deadlines that then slowly percolates all aspects of our lives. What are these deadlines anyway? Who decides when something should happen and what will happen if it did not happen that day, that moment? Will the world come to an end?
What does happen when something happens as planned? Does the world become a better place?
Am I in my dotage, or a slave protesting the iron grip time has on my life?
"It's 11.33!" exclaimed my husband.
"Oh ok..." should have been my response. It is information that hands are touching specific numbers in the clock. But I reply with equal urgency, "What! Oh my god!"
Why? I ask myself. Why do we live with an eye always on the clock. And force our children to too.
"It is 7.45, and you are still not in the bath!"
"It is 8, eat fast!!!"
"Oh my god! It is 8.22 and you are still eating?"
Is this how life was always, or have we fallen victims to some disease, disease called deadlines that then slowly percolates all aspects of our lives. What are these deadlines anyway? Who decides when something should happen and what will happen if it did not happen that day, that moment? Will the world come to an end?
What does happen when something happens as planned? Does the world become a better place?
Am I in my dotage, or a slave protesting the iron grip time has on my life?
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
One Earth: Water, Water Nowhere
One Earth: Water, Water Nowhere: The Rime of the Ancient Mariner lines come to me often (the only two lines I know):
Water, water, every where, Nor any drop to drink.
Water, water, nowhere,
Nor any drop to drink.
Though it has been raining almost every year, since Chennai receives rains only during northeastern monsoon, the summers are dry and water lorries rule the roads - water pouring generously from all directions though similar oil lorries seem to be able to seal the precious liquid more tightly. And I wonder for how long this can sustain. How long can water sources from nearby villages sustain the water needs of the growing city of Chennai?
Then I heard that despite the heavy rains that Mumbai experiences, there is still a water shortage in the city and water lorries feed the city. Cherrapunji, the place with heaviest rainfall, is facing water shortage because of deforestation and water running off the hills!
Can this be a sustainable solution? Isn't there an alternative? We may have money for the water lorries, but soon, will we have enough water to buy? RO plants are criminal in the water that gets thrown out as waste. How then can we access safe water and improve our resources?
When the discussion for budget for water came up in my apartment complex, I remembered speaking to one Dr. Ragade a few years ago. I met him sometime in 2005 for an article in a magazine and knew he had done something for water management in his building. His logic was simple and his solution elegant. He reminded me of how water was recycled in each home and he had replicated that model in his apartment complex of roughly 32 flats. Could it work for us?
Opportunity presented itself when I did another article on his solution for another magazine and realised how basic and yet sensible his solution was.
Dig shallow wells, connect them to the rainwater system on the one hand and the borewell on the other. The shallow well can be kept closed, so it can even be in the parking area in small apartment complexes. All one needs to check is the quality of the soil - is it conducive to retain water without stagnating.
We also thought the quality of our ground water was bad since the bath water, which is what the groundwater was used for, was yellow and dirty. We got water tested in a lab but could find nothing wrong. It was embarrassing how he went straight to the root - the source of water - with just a long nylon rope knotted to indicate the feet and a lota. Worse was to know that the water was excellent and the yellow colour was due to the water from the latest borewell that had been dug which was yielding yellow water. Since it was being mixed with rest of the water in the tanks, even good water was turning yellow. I was thinking that in our dependence for modern technology, we do leave common sense behind!
Under his guidance, we just finished constructing a shallow well 6 feet wide and 23 feet deep in our complex. Apparently, we struck water at 10 feet from ground level, going up to 12-13 feet below.
It is early days, but according to Dr. Ragade, who also works with the Rain Centre in Chennai, and has authored the book 'Self Reliance in Water - A practical manual for city and Town dwellers', the rain that Chennai receives is enough to cater to the needs of the city-dwellers. In a couple of years, the well will be enough for us. If entire neighbourhoods dig shallow wells and divert rainwater to these wells, the water situation can improve.
Even if we do not completely eradicate the need to buy water in the short term, I am hoping that this system will at least reduce our dependence on water lorries. It is not just the direct cost incurred that will be saved, but we will be contributing less to the water loss that happens in transportation, and also decrease the demand for such water.
I am taking the liberty to post some links not just about Dr. Ragade but others who have tried various techniques to increase water sustainability and sufficiency. May we take a leaf out of their lives and do our bit. Even small apartment residents and independent house owners can implement these simple measures and motivate others to do so too. Surprisingly, it does not involve anything complex.
Links:
http://cseindia.org/node/1637
http://www.thehindu.com/todays-paper/tp-features/tp-propertyplus/canna-plant-solve-your-water-woes/article4933047.ece
Water, water, nowhere,
Nor any drop to drink.
Though it has been raining almost every year, since Chennai receives rains only during northeastern monsoon, the summers are dry and water lorries rule the roads - water pouring generously from all directions though similar oil lorries seem to be able to seal the precious liquid more tightly. And I wonder for how long this can sustain. How long can water sources from nearby villages sustain the water needs of the growing city of Chennai?
Then I heard that despite the heavy rains that Mumbai experiences, there is still a water shortage in the city and water lorries feed the city. Cherrapunji, the place with heaviest rainfall, is facing water shortage because of deforestation and water running off the hills!
Can this be a sustainable solution? Isn't there an alternative? We may have money for the water lorries, but soon, will we have enough water to buy? RO plants are criminal in the water that gets thrown out as waste. How then can we access safe water and improve our resources?
When the discussion for budget for water came up in my apartment complex, I remembered speaking to one Dr. Ragade a few years ago. I met him sometime in 2005 for an article in a magazine and knew he had done something for water management in his building. His logic was simple and his solution elegant. He reminded me of how water was recycled in each home and he had replicated that model in his apartment complex of roughly 32 flats. Could it work for us?
Opportunity presented itself when I did another article on his solution for another magazine and realised how basic and yet sensible his solution was.
Dig shallow wells, connect them to the rainwater system on the one hand and the borewell on the other. The shallow well can be kept closed, so it can even be in the parking area in small apartment complexes. All one needs to check is the quality of the soil - is it conducive to retain water without stagnating.
We also thought the quality of our ground water was bad since the bath water, which is what the groundwater was used for, was yellow and dirty. We got water tested in a lab but could find nothing wrong. It was embarrassing how he went straight to the root - the source of water - with just a long nylon rope knotted to indicate the feet and a lota. Worse was to know that the water was excellent and the yellow colour was due to the water from the latest borewell that had been dug which was yielding yellow water. Since it was being mixed with rest of the water in the tanks, even good water was turning yellow. I was thinking that in our dependence for modern technology, we do leave common sense behind!
Under his guidance, we just finished constructing a shallow well 6 feet wide and 23 feet deep in our complex. Apparently, we struck water at 10 feet from ground level, going up to 12-13 feet below.
It is early days, but according to Dr. Ragade, who also works with the Rain Centre in Chennai, and has authored the book 'Self Reliance in Water - A practical manual for city and Town dwellers', the rain that Chennai receives is enough to cater to the needs of the city-dwellers. In a couple of years, the well will be enough for us. If entire neighbourhoods dig shallow wells and divert rainwater to these wells, the water situation can improve.
Even if we do not completely eradicate the need to buy water in the short term, I am hoping that this system will at least reduce our dependence on water lorries. It is not just the direct cost incurred that will be saved, but we will be contributing less to the water loss that happens in transportation, and also decrease the demand for such water.
I am taking the liberty to post some links not just about Dr. Ragade but others who have tried various techniques to increase water sustainability and sufficiency. May we take a leaf out of their lives and do our bit. Even small apartment residents and independent house owners can implement these simple measures and motivate others to do so too. Surprisingly, it does not involve anything complex.
Links:
http://cseindia.org/node/1637
http://www.thehindu.com/todays-paper/tp-features/tp-propertyplus/canna-plant-solve-your-water-woes/article4933047.ece
Thursday, August 14, 2014
Anubavangal: கதை சொல்லுà®®் நேà®°à®®் - Time for Stories
Anubavangal: கதை சொல்லுà®®் நேà®°à®®் - Time for Stories: Harishree Vidyalayam needed a Tamil storyteller on the occasion of Tamil Day in their school. When my friend from New Horizon Publishing asked me if I would, as ever, I was ready.
Saturday, August 9, 2014
Friends Indeed
The four boys swore eternal friendship. "In good and bad times," they affirmed. With a knife, they slicked the thumb and drew blood. They picked up the four sheets of paper they had thoughtfully brought with them and wrote - 'in good and bad times'. The blood was not enough but it was the thought that counted. They looked at each other solemnly, overwhelmed by the solemnity of the promise.
At 12, the boys knew what the promise meant. They may not have money or luxuries, but they had each other. That was not to be dismissed lightly, each one knew that when he looked at the other three.
Nothing was small or big to share. Be it chocolates, juice or sweet, they made sure the others got a share. If one was compelled to partake of something without the rest, he would secretly pilfer an equivalent to atone for the mishap. The friendship was their faith, and there was no crime big enough to commit if their friendship was at stake.
The bond deepened. They repeated the ritual every anniversary. It seemed more than a ritual. It was the purpose of their life. One got the mobile, another the prepaid card, and the third and the fourth charged it in their homes taking turns. If two fought, the other two mediated. There was never any situation where there was any possibility of a break up.
Waah, the villagers wondered at the friendship. But they were also wary. United, they were strong. And their strength made them overconfident. If anyone questioned even one of them, he had to face all four. They were four bodies, one soul. They were four hearts with one mind. They were Brahma, with four faces but one brain.
Teenagers now, one question slowly raised its head. What would happen if one of them got a girlfriend or married? They laughed and joked. They didn't think one day one of them would succeed in beating the others in getting a girl to be their special friend. Was he a traitor? They watched him, the strain telling on their friendship. Did he spend more time with her? What did he do behind that tall tree, or hidden behind the bush?
He grinned and shared every small bit of his conversation with his 14-year-old 'girlfriend', but it all seemed so silly. Was he having them on? Was he betraying them? Were the girl and he making fun of them?
The mood was turning grim. It was like having a known traitor in their midst. And yet, without him they were nothing.
He was nothing too without them. He squirmed, wanting to prove his loyalty but unable to convince them, try as he did.
And then, his casual conversation took a serious turn. The girl and he, betrayed by their youthful bodies, the romantic dusk and the total privacy of the fields, went beyond mere words. He felt one with the universe as the two bodies united. What bliss!
He lay back, the girl on the crook of his arm, staring at the sky. Suddenly, he knew how to regain his friends' trust. He promised them heaven. When he lured the girl into the fields the next evening, she came trustingly, believing in the power of their love. She was hardly prepared to be the oblation he offered on the altar of their friendship. She lay whimpering, forgotten in a corner after each had tasted the promised heaven.
The four friends embraced, their friendship intact. In good and bad times, that had been their promise.
At 12, the boys knew what the promise meant. They may not have money or luxuries, but they had each other. That was not to be dismissed lightly, each one knew that when he looked at the other three.
Nothing was small or big to share. Be it chocolates, juice or sweet, they made sure the others got a share. If one was compelled to partake of something without the rest, he would secretly pilfer an equivalent to atone for the mishap. The friendship was their faith, and there was no crime big enough to commit if their friendship was at stake.
The bond deepened. They repeated the ritual every anniversary. It seemed more than a ritual. It was the purpose of their life. One got the mobile, another the prepaid card, and the third and the fourth charged it in their homes taking turns. If two fought, the other two mediated. There was never any situation where there was any possibility of a break up.
Waah, the villagers wondered at the friendship. But they were also wary. United, they were strong. And their strength made them overconfident. If anyone questioned even one of them, he had to face all four. They were four bodies, one soul. They were four hearts with one mind. They were Brahma, with four faces but one brain.
Teenagers now, one question slowly raised its head. What would happen if one of them got a girlfriend or married? They laughed and joked. They didn't think one day one of them would succeed in beating the others in getting a girl to be their special friend. Was he a traitor? They watched him, the strain telling on their friendship. Did he spend more time with her? What did he do behind that tall tree, or hidden behind the bush?
He grinned and shared every small bit of his conversation with his 14-year-old 'girlfriend', but it all seemed so silly. Was he having them on? Was he betraying them? Were the girl and he making fun of them?
The mood was turning grim. It was like having a known traitor in their midst. And yet, without him they were nothing.
He was nothing too without them. He squirmed, wanting to prove his loyalty but unable to convince them, try as he did.
And then, his casual conversation took a serious turn. The girl and he, betrayed by their youthful bodies, the romantic dusk and the total privacy of the fields, went beyond mere words. He felt one with the universe as the two bodies united. What bliss!
He lay back, the girl on the crook of his arm, staring at the sky. Suddenly, he knew how to regain his friends' trust. He promised them heaven. When he lured the girl into the fields the next evening, she came trustingly, believing in the power of their love. She was hardly prepared to be the oblation he offered on the altar of their friendship. She lay whimpering, forgotten in a corner after each had tasted the promised heaven.
The four friends embraced, their friendship intact. In good and bad times, that had been their promise.
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