Nature Warriors

We reached Koodalur in the foothills of Kumily Hills near Thekkady for a bullock cart ride around the fields, looking for birds of different feathers. Two youth were waiting with cameras taking photos already. We got on to the cart and one of the boys enthusiastically pointed out the different birds flying around. It was his uncle's cart and he had already done the rounds of the farms earlier. He had seen 105 birds on an earlier trip, he said with pride.

 As always, I started chatting up. The two men were from Mumbai, where they worked with Bhavan's rescuing snakes and spreading awareness about the need to protect snakes. "People used to kill snakes out of fear and I felt it was wrong so I joined Bhavan's which had started rescuing snakes," said Prabhu, a Tamilian who was born and brought up in Mumbai. His friend Hemant, was a Maharashtrian, and both worked in the same place. They had been working non stop for the last two or three years and so they were on a 15 day or one month vacation, going to different places in Tamil Nadu and maybe unintentionally focusing on the fauna around. They told us about the birds they had spotted in Kodai and Meghamalai, apart from Kudalur, of course.

"How did you get into snake rescue?" I asked.

I was stunned to hear that the two boys had done engineering, one of them in IT and the other in Civil. But as they matured into youth (they must have been in their early 20s), they were slowly drawn into rescuing the snakes, and their career path changed. They draw a salary, which they are happy with. They also do other work, but all around rescuing animals or working with children creating awareness about the need to protect the environment.

"How did your parents agree?" I asked.

"They were upset initially, but then they agreed," Prabhu, the outspoken one, said. I admired the parents who endorsed their sons' decision and are supportive. Maybe they had fights about the money spent on engineering education, but they came around and accepted it.

While going around the fields, I saw several kinds of birds and I learnt that mynah, owls and parakeets have their nests in coconut trees. I saw bee-eaters in certain kinds of fields, while some other birds preferred a different kind of greenery. They previous day, during a nature trail through Thekkady forest, the guide - a tribal whom the government had trained to be a naturalist and guide - told us about one kind of parakeets that went only for banana plantation. They had become rare to sight in between because banana cultivation had come down. But now again there was a revival it seems.

I was reminded of a story I had heard when working on a dance-play on bees - that bees in China were vanishing . I wondered if the farmers in the surroundings appreciated the rare birds that they sighted regularly. I wondered, when we cut forests to plant a particular kind of plant/crop, what happened to the birds that depended on those trees. When we replant in a different locations (if at all we do), then do we consider the need for variety? Because we cannot know which plant houses which bird and what will happen to a species if 'useless' trees are cut.

With these thoughts came the constant struggle between man and nature. Ironically, it is only men who can fight other men who destroy nature. And there will always be a conflict.

Meanwhile, we can only hope that more and more Prabhus and Hemants are created so that at some point, we can hope for the natural order to be restored.

On Romance - and Movies

Saw 'OK Kanmani' and, oh god, got thoroughly bored. I am told I am not the right age for watching this movie and that it is meant for a younger audience, and those who are still young at heart.

So I couldn't help wondering why I found it so boring. After watching Piku and enjoying it thoroughly, my thoughts went back to OKK and why I was bored.

OKK was not badly taken, the actors were pleasing, the scenes shot very well. The story too was not bad. But it was BORING! My friend with whom I watched the movie too couldn't sit through it either. And yet, it is not that being married has made us so bitter that we can't enjoy a good romance!

My diagnosis is that there were no ups, no downs. The story set out on one path, stuck to it, but so closely that the scenery did not vary one bit. What little scope there was for drama fizzled off in the 'let's kiss and make up' silver bullet the couple carried with them. On the other hand, I enjoyed the portrayal of the older couple because there was a lot that was unstated, and a lot of what was stated was done with great humour. What little drama was there came from them. It was not melodrama. It was matured, dignified and the tension was created in our minds without having the characters rave and rant or open the dam.

I was reminded of Vinnai Thaandi Varuvaaya - another movie that bored me to death though it was raved of as a reflection of modern times. Another movie where the ups and downs fizzled off into nothingness, more so because it was repetitive. At one point I wanted to slap the hero and tell him to get himself a spine if it was available.

I am worried about modern times if this is what today's youth is all about. If relationships are taken so lightly that confusion and lack of clarity except that you want to be in a relationship is all that determines who you will go with. I hope the modern youth has more maturity than that. If the anti-thesis to the arranged marriage is a trial and error method... Well, I reserve my opinion. It maybe politically incorrect.

Maybe this blog post already is.

On Mothers

We paint all mothers with one brush - loving unconditionally, nurturing, god on earth. But as a mother, I hardly think I fit that description. I am loving, I am nurturing, and maybe I am even god on earth till my children discover otherwise. But we are also individuals and come with our own quirks and personalities. So a fun look at how each mother is different from the other:

1. The Hands-off Mother - she has given birth, and now she expects she has done all that she could.

2. The Food-Supplier Mother - having given birth, she believes feeding is her prime duty. She will cook wonderful dishes, invite the child/children's friends and embarrass other mothers who cannot match her culinary skills. (You guessed it right, I belong to the 'embarrassed category'.)

3. The 'My-Child-Is-God' Mother - whether she is god on earth or not, her child is. To her. The child can do no wrong. The friends better scamper for safety if her child were to come to her crying when playing with them. The fault must all be theirs.

4. The Academic Mother - wants to see the child at the top of class, career, life. May steal the child's childhood in the process. But if the child can have a brilliant career, then they are set for life! Mom knows best.

5. The Intellectual Mother - physical nourishment, academic pursuits... they are important, but not all. Travel, books, freedom... She lets the child loose into the world and believes (s)he will come out stronger and better.

6. The Demon - yes, such ones exist too. Indifferent, feeling trapped, venting their frustrations, killing the spirit of the child. Maybe she is not evil, but doesn't know to find the god in her.

Mother - how many forms you take. And through all this, you try to live up to the image in your own way. In the eyes of the world, you may succeed or fail. But to your child, you will always be God on Earth.

Handle with Care

Shreya walked in to the party and looked around. There were many familiar faces, faces that she had avoided and run away from. But though she had made new friends and moved on in life, the tug of the old was strong.

She smiled at the first familiar face that caught her eye and walked with quiet dignity. His eyes popped out and he rushed towards her with outstretched arms. The hostess, who had met her quite accidentally, managed to tug the right strings and lure her to attend the party, also saw her and hurried to welcome her.

Shreya maintained her poise though her heart was beating very fast and she wanted to quickly hide herself again. It was wonderful to be among friends, but not all of them at the same time. She stood still as she sensed more and more people eagerly converging towards her to greet her. She glowed with warmth and at the same time she felt nervous.

A drink or two loosened her up enough to be able to chat with her friends.

"Well, well..." she heard a voice behind her suddenly and her heart leaped to her mouth. The colour drained from her face and she went rigid. She had thought she was prepared for this moment, but obviously, she had underestimated his power over her.

The person she was talking to looked discomfited and melted in the crowd as she slowly turned to face the new entrant.

She crossed her arms and looked at him defiantly. It was hard to maintain that posture. She was stunned at how her heart still went flip-flop on seeing him. But now, she hoped to use her head more.

"What have we here! Ghost or Madam Rhea in flesh!" he drawled.

Shreya flinched when Ranjan called her Rhea - it invoked an intimacy that she did not care for right now.

"Shreya," she said sharply. "Rhea is reserved for people I am close to," she added uncompromisingly.

His one eyebrow rose up a little. She set her jaw against softening.

"I thought I was one of them." He was laughing at her.

"Was... that's the operative here," she said in a low, vehement voice.

He was silent for a beat. "Can that ever change?" he said.

She swallowed, fearing she would weaken. "Trust me, it can."

She walked away, feeling all the hurt and anger returning. She was not ready yet for this. She quietly slipped into the night, heading towards the car with purposeful strides. She opened the door and heard footsteps. She paused and looked up. A shadowy form went around the car and slipped into the passenger seat. The light came on and she stared at him.

"Get out, Ranjan. Out," she said, without getting in. But he wouldn't.

"We have to talk," he insisted.

"Does your wife know you are here?" she asked, half mocking, half angry.

"If she is watching, she will..." he said carelessly.

She laughed maliciously. "She is learning fast, isn't she? Has detectives watching you?"

"Where she is, she doesn't need them."

Shreya frowned without comprehending. Intrigued, she got into the driving seat and started the car. "So you want to get away...?" she glanced at him.

He chuckled wryly but did not reply. "Where did you vanish to?" he asked instead. It was her turn to be silent. She realised she was heading towards her hideout, and did not want him to see the place. She veered the other way and drove aimlessly. "I am waiting," he said.

"You can," she said indifferently. "Doesn't mean a thing to me," she said trying to sound cool.

She heard him inhale deeply. "Yes, I know that too well. And still I come back, like a fool!" he said with unexpected bitterness.

"You didn't, I did," she pointed out.

"You left, I didn't," he retorted.

"You wanted me to leave," she said relentlessly.

He laughed louder. "I wanted you to leave, indeed... As if I could make you want to do anything."

"You were at it, all the time. Almost waiting for that moment when I would give up, would leave."

"That's just not true!" he exclaimed angrily. There was silence, heavy and pregnant. She stubbornly shut her mouth tightly, not wanting to be drawn into an argument about the past she was trying hard to forget.

"You know you are all that I cared for!" he said finally, in a voice that made her want to stop the car and hug him.

She drove with better self-control, moved to the kerbside and parked. She turned to him slowly. "What a fine way to show your care. First you came close, then you kept pushing me away, sure that I will leave, that I will cheat, that I will stop loving you. I tried not to give in, I tried to remain strong for the two of us. I knew you had your demons, your mother leaving you when you were young made you wary. When you didn't succeed, you started seeing that woman, made sure I knew about it... Pretended to be careful, but you were not, were you? You made sure I left. And now that you aren't happy with her, you are doing the same thing. You know she is watching you, and you make sure she sees you with me..."

"She is dead," he said.

She didn't understand him. "Sorry?"

"She is dead."

"Died of weariness?" she asked angrily. She didn't know what she was angry about, but she was angry, very angry. As if her death had deprived her of an opponent.

"She couldn't give me what I wanted, but she gave me something else... Assurance, which you never could."

"Because she refused to go?"

"Because she left before her time," he said. "Death took her away before anyone else could. And I realised what a fool I was. You were alive. I was alive. If only we had a chance. Before death takes us away."

She turned front, her eyes on the road. She thought of the past year, of the struggle she had gone through. She had longed and longed for this moment. And now it was here, he was here, telling her he wanted her back, telling her what she wanted to hear.

"Glass," she whispered. "Thick glass. You keep banging it on the floor, knowing it can break, waiting for it to break, wanting it to break. When it breaks, you want it back whole. Is it possible, Ranjan?" she asked softly. She turned to look at him, her eyes filled with tears, her voice regretful, but her heart made up. She shook her head slowly.

He remained silent, his breathing hard, his eyes fixed ahead, his lips stubbornly silent. He looked tired, defeated.

She started the car, wanting to leave him behind before she gave in. "Where shall I drop you?" she asked, resisting the urge to go back.


Also published at: http://heroinchic.weebly.com/blog/handle-with-care-by-meera-srikant

One Earth: No Tree Frogs, Please!

One Earth: No Tree Frogs, Please!: Nature, lovely nature. When I saw the three basic but intelligently made bamboo huts in Karadimalai Camp in Chengelpet, I was excited. We...

Mother Racketwali

She sat quietly, immobile, waiting for the attack. She offered her body for the sacrifice. But she was not going down without a fight. She was armed.

Right enough, the promise of food, the scent of blood, the sitting duck lured them from their corners. In ones, twos, almost invisible in the shadows, they emerged and reconnoitered.

She waited. She felt their pincer grip but sat still. She wanted the army out, not these minions. She towered over them, and so the damage was not significant. But it was not their bite which was dangerous. It was what they injected into her system. Even one minion could poison her system, but she was willing to take the risk.

Nothing happened for a long time. Only the minions got drunk on her blood. She was getting angry now. It was not an easy call, this decision to kill. Largely peaceful as a person, she felt that she was justified in killing because she was being attacked. It was pure self-defense.

She saw the fat ones moving up closer. She swished her weapon - the electric racket - and heard the satisfying burst of the body against the electric wires. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She felt another one bite. Swish, swish, swish she went. Crackle, crackle, crackle she heard the response. She smelt burning bodies.

She had promised herself, she would kill only those who came to her. And that the stream had to end. But like Raktabeeja, each death caused at least two more to emerge and strengthen the attack. The frenzy to kill consumed her. She bent low and looked far. She caught the tiny bodies in mid air and swung her arm with relish.

But it was unending. 11. 11.30. 12.00. She must go to bed now. She will resume the battle the next day.

The survivors hovered, having won another day.

One Earth: What's Your Excuse?

One Earth: What's Your Excuse?: On a busy thoroughfare near Mount Road, Chennai, on a narrow stretch between the footpath and the flyover, stands this dustbin occupying ...

The Modern Goat

It was a narrow road. Shops on one side, houses on the other, and just enough space for two cars to cross each other from opposite sides.

An auto was parked next to the shop, by the side.

There came a car, a sedan, driven by a chauffer, with a lady inside.

He parked outside the shop, next to the auto, on the road. He went in, leaving the car with the lady inside.

He bought a few things, but forgot a few others. He came out and asked the lady what else she needed. She told him her grocery list. He went back in to do her bidding. So what if the road was narrow and one side of the road completely blocked?

"There is an auto parked by the shop, that's why my driver had to park on the road," she reasoned.

"Oho, poor thing! Do you realise you can park ahead, on a side?" asked one bystander.

"Mind your business," said the lady.

The driver, coming out, his hands full of things, glared. "There is enough road on the side for your bike to pass," he pointed out.

And the charioteer drove his queen away, unmindful of the disturbance he caused. This reminded me of the Panchatantra tale of two goats crossing a bridge and dying because they wouldn't give the other way.

With No Cares

The Fort by the sea in Tranquebar (Tharangampadi) has a museum on the first floor. After a quick glance through the exhibits, I stepped out and sat on a bench facing the Bay.

The tsunami of 2004 had claimed a part of the beach. I could see the ramparts of the fort peeping over the water every time a wave receded.

There was a wall closer to the fort building and the waves hit the wall, jumped up vertically, spraying water droplets on the beach.

My eyes fell on two very young children standing safely on the beach side behind the wall, in just their underwear, urging the waves to rise higher and higher. The waves too gamely obliged. Sometimes, the waves felt tired and were more muted, just jumping enough to peep at the children. The boy, who stood in the front, would then wave his hands as if swinging a sword, and challenging the waves to get at him. Fresh and rejuvenated waves would respond with mirth and joy, making the children scream excitedly.

I watched them for a long time wistfully. This is childhood. No cares, no responsibilities, just their imagination and a friendly 'nature'.

Life - An Illusion

My heart, my belief system is rooted deeply in the firm conviction that the divine and I are separate. He, (She, if you insist - it is just a word at that level) is all pervading, and so in me, in you, everywhere. A part of it rests within me, but the larger part rests outside, like in a bank account - to be accessed when the Self is incapable of dealing meeting a situation.

The separateness is reassuring, as if there is someone watching over, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to pour the troubles into, an arm that envelopes protectively, a dark, reassuring night that soothes and cools, a bright light that guides... As if it is all not my responsibility.

So probably, 'Yoga Vasishta' was not the book for me.

Or, just the book for me. A treatise on Advaita philosophy, it is Sage Vasishta's discourse on the non-duality of the Paramatma and Jeevatma, of how it is the Brahman, the Supreme Consciousness that is manifest in every living and non-living thing not just in the universe but the various universes that exist in multifarious forms in parallel. The discourse is given to Rama when Sage Vishwamitra calls on King Dasaratha asking for Rama's help in killing Tataka.

Rama has been distressed and restless and feels a strange detachment that he is not able to explain. The discourse aims to enlighten Rama on the nature of non-duality of the world and the need to perform our duties with detachment and realisation of the true nature of the self.

Whether you are an atheist, agnost, or theist matters not; whether you go to temples or to war matters not; whether you act or not matters not. The gods are not gods, but like us, creation of that Supreme Imagination. Life, and even non-life, is but a dream. What matters is to know this Truth and to contemplate on it, be aware of it, and repose in that Supreme Consciousness.

While I read novels at least one a week, this book needed time - I took two years to complete it. It is the same idea repeated with many stories, instances and examples. Creation and dissolution of the cosmos are also mere beginning and end of a dream. There is no you, no me, nothing. We dream and think that is true and the waking world becomes a lie. When we wake up, the dream world dissolves and becomes a lie. So it is with the world.

Am I nothing? Just a puff who will vanish, has vanished and materialised again? Are you whom I love, hate, like, dislike, am indifferent to, don't even know you exist - really? Just the effect of a dream?

The mind is still struggling to understand how all that I see and experience are but a dream of some supreme being that is and is not; that life is an illusion, a mirage that vanishes the moment the dream ends. It all seemed so clear when I was reading it, but so hard to comprehend when I close it!

I love that God who stands by me. But if that God and I are a but dream...?

Yet another illusion or self-realisation?

Am I awake or asleep?

Us Vs. Them

I was probably 11 or 12. My friend and I were in a park in our neighbourhood in Delhi. I can't remember how suddenly we started talking about it, but I felt the south Indians were to be pitied more for the troubles they were facing in Sri Lanka, while she felt that it is the north Indians suffering at the hands of the Sikh terrorists that needed all the sympathy.

I am sure we did not understand the issues involved or the politics. But, we felt the need to support the underdog, to show solidarity with the sufferers, but most importantly, identify ourselves with the victims.

Today, I am sometimes worried, sometimes shocked when I see that even as adults, we seem to feel the need to take sides, constantly. That we maybe unfair to the other side be damned. That our own stance may shift with the winds is conveniently forgotten. That there are no absolute truths be overridden with one sweeping statement.

If perpetrators of so-called social crimes are evil, can taking the opposing stance be good? Isn't it only reversal of roles? Do two negatives become a positive, or are we simply tilting the balance?

If that is the way of the world, why should the past be judged? And if it is not right, why perpetuate it in a different form today?

Ironically, it also seems to be a time where everything Indian is either rubbished or elevated on a pedestal. "Oh I wish we were more like them," seems to be the tune of some, while the others seem to think "All that they know is because of us."

Education, access to technology, exposure to global thought do nothing to expand our views, open our minds. We will remain small and mean so long as it serves our purpose. So long as we can somehow show our superiority - either in aligning ourselves with the victims, or by negating our roots.

Forever, we will be forming teams to fight battles - either directly by throwing bombs or indirectly through the power of the pen.

Honouring His Word - 'Paarthiban Kanavu'

If you help others achieve their goals, even if they clash with yours, do you win or lose?

Paarthiban Kanavi by Kalki is a fast-paced read. I suspect not many of my friends have read it or plan to read it, so I am taking the liberty to liberally sprinkle spoilers.

Paarthiba Chola is a vassal of Narasimha Pallava, with a dream of breaking free and reestablishing the Chola's lost glory. But alas, the 'titular lead' of the story dies in the beginning of the tale, fighting a battle with the mighty Pallavas. Narasimha Pallava, a wise and powerful king, seeks out the body of his dead rival incognito - maybe to make sure he is indeed dead, or to honour the brave king for having fought courageously. He finds the king breathing his last and promises that he will indeed help Paarthiban's son fulfill his dream.

And then though the story was very engrossing, a part of me sceptical. Why would a king go out of his way to help his vassal realise his dream through his son?

The ending took my breath away.

Narasimha Pallava declares Vikrama Chola, son of Paarthiba, free and also gets him married to his daughter Kundavi. But the author does not end the story there. Maybe he was also labouring with the question that kept intruding into my reading. Why indeed would Pallava pave the way for Cholas to become independent?

Because, even after doing that, Narasimha Pallava's reign continued to remain glorious. In fact, it would be another three hundred years before the Cholas would regain their glory and Pallava name would vanish into the annals of history. But during his reign, Narasimha's honourable act brought him greater name, fame and, most importantly, respect. He was not insecure because he trusted himself. Whether Vikrama was deserving or not - which he was - Narasimha had the vision, the generosity and the confidence needed in a king to know that he could hold on his own purely on his capabilities. Accepting an able man as his son-in-law and a near-equal gave him opportunities to expand his vision further, probably.

How relevant it is even today! If we lift someone up, do we risk going down or do we climb higher? That depends only on us, right?

Find Your Own God

Violence in the name of god, stories interpreted, reinterpreted, misinterpreted... Is this the purpose of
religion, of seeking god, of reading the scriptures?

I want to quote these lines from Vasishtha's Yoga:
"Not by the study of scriptures, nor by hearing the instructions of a preceptor, nor by charity nor even by the worship of god is the direct realisation of the supreme truth realised. Because that is beyond all these. However, I shall tell you how these, though not the actual means, have come to be regarded as the means to self-realisation. By the practice of the precepts of the scriptures, the mind becomes pure and transparent; then, without even wishing for it, one sees the supreme truth."

The other means are mere stepping stones, like the bath water, to be used to clean oneself and then discarded. If as individuals, we keep wallowing in the water, the result is what we see in our society - violence in various degrees. If the scripture does not make us feel pure, then it is not the right kind of water. It is already sullied. But if it does, for you, as an individual, then it has served its purpose. Never mind it did not work for some one else.

Even two siblings do not behave the same way, like the same things, take the same path. Then why should it be true of people from disparate backgrounds? Why cannot two people hold different views and yet find their truths? If it applies for religious fanatics, with due respect to intellectuals, it applies to you too. If a woman finds a stone divine, so be it. The problem is not that she finds the stone divine, but that she tries to beat you with it, forcing you to bow to it.

And when you do not like that stone that is divine to her, and try to turn it into mud, then, well... Aren't you doing exactly what she tried to do to you, though in a different way?

Utopia, I sigh, living and letting live. But if we dream enough, if we focus on our personal development, of connecting to the divine within without worrying about who else is following the same path, maybe we will stop killing each other, doubting each other and there will be more peace.