A SMALL HUT BY A JOYOUS BROOK

1

It was a day to remember. For quite some time clouds were making thicker and darker the partition between the earth and the sky. Suraj had expected it; he had carried an umbrella whilst leaving his home for the college in the morning. He loved the rains even though his name meant ‘Sun’. He had often wanted to walk in the drizzle, preferably with the girl he was in love with. However, he had often wondered if she would be even aware of his having these feelings for her. Whilst sitting in the class he had frequently looked towards her and at one time he was emboldened to throw a paper plane in her direction; but, the plane had landed near the physics teacher and he was expelled from the class for the remaining afternoon session. He was, therefore, contemplating more practical methods of communicating with her than being at the mercy of the aerodynamics of his paper inventions.

She had evoked feelings in him that were hitherto strange to him. He was not quite able to decide as to what exactly attracted him to her; it could be a number of things: she had the most beautiful black eyes that could be called dreamy. Her entire being exuded innocence, an innate vulnerability, so that anyone around her would be naturally protective of her. She always looked aloof as if she did not quite belong. He had recently and secretly started writing poems about her and in one of those he had written that she might have descended from another planet. When he read the poem back, it did not sound like a very original idea since Hindi movies were already showing ‘the dream sequence’ in which the heroine stepped out of the half moon. But, in his dreams he had seen her stepping out of the half moon many times and he was always there to lead her down the steps. He was not sure whether the idea had come to him first or those smart blokes in the Hindi movies.

Not only in the class, Suraj’s eyes had followed her everywhere. During the lunch breaks she would go with her friends to the pine grove in the college compound where they would eat out of their tiffin boxes; she was with them but she was also alone. He loved that detached look. Many a times he thought of following her to the water tap where, after the lunch, she would wash the box. But, he did not. It was not as if he was a coward; it was just that if she would spurn him it would break his reverie. He had realized during early stages of his childhood that whether he became a doctor or an engineer or an Indian Administrative Services officer that his father wanted him to become; or a navy man that he had set his heart on after reading books and seeing movies, he would always be a dreamer.

One favourite habit of his was to time his departure from the college in such a way that as he walked back home he would be fifty to sixty steps behind her. She invariably walked with her friends but in his way of thinking, the intimacy between them, such as it were, was bound to increase if they walked the same way together even if separated by a few steps. Invariably, in the Hindi movies (nobody had yet started bastardizing their name by calling them Bollywood movies) when the hero and the heroine were finally portrayed happily in love, the scene would fade into their walking together on a path leading to the sunset.

Today too he was a few steps behind her. However, today was a special day since she walked alone. His eyes had followed her activities in the afternoon; she had wanted to spend some time in the library and the friends had not waited for her. He, in any case always walked alone. For one thing, he had reckoned that if one or more of his friends were to walk with him, there was nothing stopping them from falling in love with her too and then he would have had unwanted competition.

It started drizzling – a very light drizzle. He had the umbrella with him but he did not open it since in his dream of walking with her in the drizzle there was to be no umbrella. Love blooms without artificial shelter he had mused. It happened in Barsaat ki Raat (A Rainy Night) when rain drops trickled down the tresses and strove to pause on the petal like cheeks of Madhubala (Exact words: “Hai yeh reshmi zulfon se tapakta paani; phul se gaalon pe rukne ko tarsata paani). Even Raj Kapoor and Nargis, though they stood under an umbrella in Barsaat (Rain) had little use of it when they decided to enjoy the togetherness in the shower. He had already noticed that she carried no umbrella and that suited him. But, as the drizzle increased in intensity he was filled with fear that she might stop to seek shelter and his walking in the drizzle with her, which he had begun to enjoy like a dream come true, would be cut short.

So, he opened his umbrella and ran to catch up with her. He soon realized that it was a mistake; he could have run to catch up with her and opened the umbrella later upon slowing down beside her. As he ran, the umbrella was caught up in the breeze and had opened up inside out. It was no use as a shelter to her and he was embarrassed. It took him some time to straighten it out. He offered the handle to her to hold and she did. He walked beside her without saying a word; she was in the shade of the umbrella whereas he walked in the drizzle. He felt that it was left to her to invite him inside as he could not have been so bold to share the intimacy of the small shelter. She did only when the drizzle turned to rain. “Thank you, Kiran”, he told her. “Thank me?” she said with a smile that was equivalent of glockenspiel to him, “It is your umbrella, you know”.

He walked in a daze. Many things occurred to him to tell her but he did not. He wanted to tell her that not just the umbrella but everything that he had belonged to her now. He wanted to tell her that his heart and his soul too belonged to her. He had so much to tell her about his dreams, about going together for long walks in the tea gardens, about sharing lunch boxes, about studying together for exams, about exchanging notes and letters, about singing songs together, about…

“Poor puppy”, he thought he heard her say. Why is she calling me a puppy? Ah, she must be equally in love and it is common for lovers to call each other sweet names. But, how quickly the intimacy had developed, he thought: puppy now, rabbit later and maybe even adorable cuddly teddy.

“Poor puppy”, he heard her say again and he wished she would call him some other name; but then, she added, “Look how he is getting wet”. He? He finally glanced in her direction and saw the puppy in the rain. She made him hold her books and ran to pick up the small golden pup. She picked it up and held the umbrella over him. Suraj was now outside the umbrella and silently cursed the puppy for having taken his place.

They walked like this to the junction whereat her way bifurcated from his. She wanted to give back the umbrella but he insisted that it would be good for her and the puppy and he was anyway wet. She gave him a smile and departed. He stood in the rain for quite some time trying to find a parallel with some Hindi movie or the other. In the night after dinner, as he lay in his bed dreaming about her, he realized that his own love for the canine siblings, though very strong at one time, had considerably diminished. Irresponsible bitches, he thought, who left their litter on the road.

2

The small wooden hut was special to him. It sat on a pebbled ground next to a gurgling brook, as if in a story book. It was barely discernible in the pine trees around it. It was exactly how he had pictured it in one of his early poems about her:

Don’t love me, O’ sweet, when we meet,
For there is less
Glee in achieving than in yearning.
From here it’s alluring,
The scent of your tress;
I get my joys in burning,
In pining, in longing
And in sorrow,
And waiting for each tomorrow.

I don’t want to strangle my dreams to death,
You, alone, sit in my dream castle
And far below
In a dark dungeon I am thrown.
I reach out my hands without catching ye,
And you outside smile at me.
And, lo! I wish not my hands were free.

Wait…wait till the pains are so much,
That they burn themselves in their own fire,
The waters of grieving river’d calm down,
The cell would break its own bars.
Then you and I’ll live away from town,
In a small hut by a joyous brook.
We’d work, we’d eat, we’d play the deep
Game of love,
And thus at last we’d sleep.
Now, she was in sleep in the same hut, a sleep from which she’d not get up again. He sat beside her body; at one time full of life, perhaps too full, and now dead. On the polished wooden floor lay a bloodied knife. The hole he had carved in her stomach with it was not visible since blood was still oozing out of it. Blood has a colour which can be made out from a distance against many a background. And then it occurred to him in a flash, as many revelations often came to him, as to why did not God make lemon coloured blood.

He touched her. There was still warmth there. He was instantly transported to another time, another era; the first touch of her hand. It was warm like the underbelly of a bird. He had electric waves going through his body. It happened the next day after his giving her the umbrella. She met him outside the classroom and returned the umbrella to him neatly folded. He put his hand to grip the handle only to realize she hadn’t taken off her hand. As he gripped it she could have instantly taken the hand away. But for some five seconds she didn’t. Later in the class he kept thinking about it if that was a sign from her, an acceptance.

That day, because of the rain, they went to the college canteen for lunch. She sat with her other friends on a table next to where he sat with his friends. The subject of discussion was rains; Deepak said he hated rains because these kept him and others from playing cricket. Sampat said he did not like being closeted in his room waiting for the rain to get over. Suraj had a faraway look when he suddenly interjected, “But I just love the rains”. It was so sudden and so sharp that there was a momentary silence on his table. Suraj was sure that Kiran had heard him because she looked at him and then took her gaze away as if he had revealed their most closely kept secret. This time there was no doubt about the intimacy.

He looked down. The blood was oozing out though not with a gush. Why, he asked himself, was he driven to do it? He had never loved anyone more and she claimed she loved him too single-mindedly. He remembered the song she sang on their first get together, “ke duniya mein aa ke kuchh na phir chaha kabhi tum ko chaah ke” (That after coming in this world, I never desired anyone, after being in love with you).

And yet, here they were together in that wooden hut. It was their hut. She was dead..he had killed her finally…and she? She had, he was sure, killed him many times with instruments worse and more blunt than the knife.

He had never wanted her to go, much less go like this. On the first vacation, after they acknowledged being in love, he sang to her a Mohammad Rafi favourite of his, “Tum chali jayogi parchhayiyan reh jayengi” (You will leave your shadows behind after you go). The song was indeed a mature and deep philosophy and it surprised her that at his age he would have that as one of the favourites in comparison to more lilting and boyish numbers of that era. But that was how he was: different, emotional, philosophical, dreamy. The song from the movie Shagun went on to add:

Sun ke is jheel ke saahil pe mili ho mujhse
jab bhii dekhunga yahin mujhko nazar aaogi
yaad mitati hai na manzar koi mit sakta hai
dur jaakar bhi tum apne ko yahin paaogi.

(On the lonely shore of this lake you have met me
Whenever I shall see, I shall see you here
Memories of our love and its stages won’t fade
When you go away you will still find yourself here)

He had killed her…but, she would never be gone; she would always be in this small hut by the joyous brook.

With the song came the flush of memories…..

MUMBAI RAINS

Now that the monsoons are here in Mumbai again, I keep thinking that there is no other season or weather that can fill one with as deep and different emotions as the rains. There is a little something in these for everyone.

Hindi movies have always used Saawan or rains for varied purposes. The most common is the longing that the village belle feels for her lover who has gone to pardes (out station) and has not returned even when the romantic season is here. Taste this: “Saawan ke jhule pade hain, tum chale aayo (Swings are out on the trees during rains; come to me, my love”; or “Saawan ke din aaye, beeti yaadein laye..(Rainy days arrived again; bringing with them lost memories”.

As far as titillation is concerned, there is nothing like rain to wet the saree of the heroine and give alluring glimpses of her sumptuous assets. The sensuousness of a Bollywood actress is often measured against the scale of her revealing herself whilst doing the rain dance. The heroine sings that her heart is going “dhak dhak” but actually that is the effect of the song and the dance on the audience.

Drops of rainwater falling over a pond and causing small ripples are an enchanting sight. And if one is to watch these whilst listening to the crickets and the plonk plonk of the drops, one would be filled with an overwhelming desire to be out walking in the drizzle. A boat in the lake in soft drizzle is another picturesque sight.

In a city like Mumbai or for that matter any Indian city facing perpetual water shortages, rains signify the abundance of this scarce commodity. Many people just walk in the rain to have a bath they had promised themselves long back. Many leave buckets and pans in the open to fill these up as never before.

Rainy season is a favourite for unplanned holidays or breaks from work. It is because Mumbai’s transportation system comes to a halt with anything but light rains. Schools and colleges are closed and offices are forced to let off their staff either early or for the days when it rains heavily. Walking on the roads is the most dangerous exercise one can indulge in. As you gingerly find your way on the flooded roads and you only manage to find your foot in the pothole you have luck on your side; you manage to return home with minor injuries. However, if your foot finds an open manhole (such manholes are often left open by the municipality to add to the adventure of being in Mumbai) you are instantly one with God.

Rains are also a good excuse for not doing anything or for postponing things. After you have chosen your furniture at the neighbourly shop and paid the advance and you await delivery, the rains break out. You are left high and dry, nay, low and wet. “Let the rains get over”, your friendly shopkeeper informs you, “and I will make sure your sofa set is delivered promptly”.

Rains in Mumbai also result in essential cleanliness of our squalid surroundings or at least some of the muck is hidden in the waters. The perpetual dust settles down. Since we have this compelling urge to litter, rains instantly carry our wrong-doings away from us. Since a large number of Mumbaiites are used to urinating, spitting and defecating in public places, rains promptly absolve us of the guilt of our irresponsible conduct. In this way we can continue to blame the authorities for not making our areas hygienic and mosquito free whilst assuring ourselves unrestricted use of the freedom we won so dearly.

All other seasons you face on your own but there is great togetherness in the rains. Don’t believe me? Well, try being the only person who carries an umbrella when it starts pouring and see how many people will engage you in close conversation under your umbrella. You suffer together waiting for the BEST (named so that you won’t call them WORST) buses to arrive, shifting from one end of the bus stop to the other as the rain changes direction with the breeze. A kind of kinship is cemented that you had never dreamt of. In one of the Mumbai ads, a man instantly marries his son off to a girl whose father was kind enough to provide him shelter in pouring rain.

And then there is family-togetherness. Rains are the best season for the lady of the house to be making and serving maalpuras, pakodas and other fried stuff whilst the rest of the family watches TV in knee deep water. No guests are expected during this weather and you can have all the goodies to yourself. Conversely, you can avoid going to grouchy friends by the handy excuse of rains, “ All of us were ready to come and be with you for the bhajan-kirtan (hymn singing) and then it started raining”.

Rains are thanked profusely by our local milkman; in other weathers he has to depend upon the unreliable municipal water to make his fifty litres into eighty, but, during rains he does not have to do much to increase his earnings. Many Mumbai families stash the raddi (old newspapers and magazines) during other seasons and sell these during the monsoons when they absorb moisture and their weight increases.

Rains are loved by the Mumbai media ever starved to break news. During other seasons there is nothing much to report. But, during rains the media can forever indulge in such populist topics as trashing authorities for being insensitive to people’s basic needs.

Our dog Roger loves the Mumbai rains. The duration of his walks increases and he just loves to wade through pools formed on the walkway. If he could write he would write to the Mayor thanking him for having such pools everywhere. The Mumbai media would hate him for doggedly taking on their watch-dog role.

With all this, there is nothing like Mumbai rains. If you have stood under the shelter of a tree with a paper cone holding singdana (roasted peanuts) or bhutta (corn roasted on coal), you are bound to break into song, “Ai dil hai mushkil jeena yahan; Yeh hai Bombay, yeh hai Bombay meri jaan (O’ my heart, it is so difficult to live here; it is Bombay, my love)”.

ABSOLUTE VIRTUE

Playwright Eugene O’ Neil once said, “Remember that every man is a variation of yourself; no man’s guilt is not yours, nor is any man’s innocence a thing apart”. This relativity of human kind actually extends to the entire cosmic universe. The existence and even location of millions of objects in space is dependent upon other objects. If it were not for the gravity, many objects would lose their weight and position. For example, we cannot see Dark-Matter or perceive its existence, but because of gravity exerted by it, we know it is there! Imagine that Mass or Matter beyond electromagnetic waves is perceived by inference alone! Einstein’s Theory of Relativity further brings the relationship between Mass and Energy. According to him both are the same; that is, both are conserved separately but atomic particles (Matter) can be converted to a form of Energy (Non-Matter) such as Light, Heat or Kinetic.

That brings us to the Law of Conservation of Energy that we read about in the school. According to this the total amount of energy remains constant over time. In simple terms it means that when energy is consumed or dissipated it appears in an equivalent and some other form or forms. In other words Energy cannot be created or destroyed! Since there is relationship between Mass and Energy it also, by extension, means that the Total Energy or Total Mass in the universe is constant over Time as observed by us.

In my previous article ‘The Virtual World’, I had argued that how we see objects is dependent upon a form of Energy called Light emitted by such objects and reaching us over Time. If this Energy including Infrared and Ultraviolet were not to reach us, as far as we are concerned, such a thing does not exist. But, nay, Dark Matter does exist as otherwise who or what would be applying such gravitational force.

Suffice it to say that only constant is Total Mass or Total Energy and everything else is relative. Every consumption of energy by us is reappearing somewhere and someone is being affected by it. So far there is no difference between Science and Spirituality. We believe in the same thing. Where we differ is what we perceive by inference. Spirituality feels that there is a Creator since Scientists acknowledge the fact that Energy or Mass cannot be created but merely converted. Then who created it? For example, Guru Nanak as brought out in the very first lines of Guru Granth Sahib made an effort to explain God, the Creator (Ek Ongkaar). God, he said is Satnaam (Truth) and is “Aad Sach, Jugaad Sach, Hai Bhee Sach, Naanak Hosee Bhee Sach”. (True in the Beginning, True in the Primeval Age, True now, says Nanak, He shall certainly be True in the future). This means that God the Creator is beyond His Creation and when the Creation dies (or actually reappears as something else), He will not die.

Bhagwat Gita says exactly the same thing. Ahamaatmaa gudaakesha sarvabhootaashayasthitah; Ahamaadishcha madhyam cha bhootaanaamanta eva cha (‘I am, O Gudakesh, the Self that dwells within all beings, as also their primeval beginning, middle, and end’). Both, Guru Granth Sahib and Bhagwat Gita also tell Man not to worry about the past or the future because it was and is beyond him. Also understanding of the cosmic world is beyond man: Na tu maam shakyase drashtum anenaiva swachakshushaa; Divyam dadaami te chakshuh pashya me yogamaishwaram (But thou art not able to behold Me with these, thine own eyes; I give thee the divine eye; behold My lordly Yoga). It is only then that Arjuna saw various manifestations of Lord Krishna as the Creator.

Anyway, a deeper study of Science and Spirituality bring out that there is hardly any difference in what both believe in; except that Science feels that what is now unknown or un-understood by Man will be discovered by him later in a scientific way whereas Spirituality feels that God reveals to Man what He chooses to reveal.

As brought out on page 606 of Sri Guru Granth Sahib: Aape mar jivaida piyara sah  laide sabh lavaaia (The Beloved Himself kills and revives; all draw the breath of life, given by Him). Aape taanh dibaan hai piyara aape kaare laaia (The Beloved Himself is power and presence; He Himself engages us in our work). Jiu aap challaye tiu chalaye piyara jiu har prabh mere bhaayiya (As the Beloved makes me walk, I walk, as it pleases my Lord God). Aape janti jant hai piyara jan Nanak vajeh vajaaiya (The Beloved Himself is the musician, and the musical instrument; servant Nanak vibrates His vibration).

This is no different from Bhagwat Gita, eg, Chapter VII: Beejam maam sarvabhootaanaam viddhi paartha sanaatanam; Buddhir buddhimataamasmi tejastejaswinaamaham (Know Me, O Arjuna, as the eternal seed of all beings; I am the intelligence of the intelligent; the splendour of the splendid objects am I). Balam balavataam asmi kaamaraagavivarjitam; Dharmaaviruddho bhooteshu kaamo’smi bharatarshabha (Of the strong, I am the strength devoid of desire and attachment, and in (all) beings, I am the desire unopposed to Dharma, O Arjuna!) Ye chaiva saattvikaa bhaavaa raajasaastaamasaashcha ye; Matta eveti taanviddhi na twaham teshu te mayi (Whatever being (and objects) that are pure, active and inert, know that they proceed from Me. They are in Me, yet I am not in them). Tribhirgunamayair bhaavairebhih sarvamidam jagat; Mohitam naabhijaanaati maamebhyah paramavyayam (Deluded by these Natures (states or things) composed of the three qualities of Nature, all this world does not know Me as distinct from them and immutable).

At this stage, I am not going to get into any discussion about the Good and the Bad or Evil. However, it is important to take stock of what we have established so far

· One, we have established that Energy or Mass cannot be created or destroyed. These can only be converted to other forms.
· Two, we have established that there is a (so far unknown) Force (as believed by Science) or Creator who has created this fixed quantity of Energy or Mass and this Force or Creator is beyond the laws of Nature.
· Three, that because of our inability to produce new Energy or Mass (as opposed to converting what this Force or Creator has made available to us); every action of ours is relative to such reconverted forms.

Some simple examples of the last point above are that we, human beings, do not create water; we either melt ice to get water through the use of Heat Energy or convert sea water into water by excluding salt by evaporation. If the world balance of Total Mass or Total Energy is to be maintained, then every action of ours has an (or several) equal reaction(s) over Time; some of these are immediately noticeable by us whereas some take more time; some may be at the same place, whereas some may be at another distant place. An example of the latter is the concern of the developed world about global warming and environmental issues. They themselves used Energy during their industrialisation years causing unfettered depredation of the environment; but, they want China and India to put cap on emissions during their rapid industrialisation requiring unprecedented use of Energy. These are clearly double standards.

Here is what Jeremy Seabrook wrote in Outlook magazine (16 June 2008 issue) in an Opinion titled ‘The Paupers Arrive..Late for the Banquet’:

“In a world of prodigality and poverty, of excess and exiguity, and a system that violates the elements that sustain life, if India and China increased their wealth twenty- or fifty-fold, what would be the effect on the resource base of the earth? It is yet another unfortunate historical accident that India and China should be poised on the brink of the age of heroic consumption at the very time when the western powers are coming to the sober realisation that this era may be drawing to its close. The insistence that India and China forbear to pollute in the reckless fashion of the West at the time of its early industrialism is an indirect recognition of the impossible task they are faced with. Although the economy is the only area of experience in which the knowing and cynical of the world still believe miracles to occur, it would require unprecedented supernatural intervention to satisfy unbound human desires, which hover like an epic plague of locusts over the harvest-fields of the earth.”

Strong words these. However, these are in recognition of both our findings; that Energy consumed would produce some reaction somewhere else over Time; and two, that we have only a fixed amount of Energy. It is for this reason that I steered clear from any discussion on Good or Bad because who is going to be the judge? As seen by George Bush global food crisis of 2008 was a direct result of enhanced consumption by India and China! One man’s meat is another man’s poison.

This argument can be extended to arrive at the realisation that there is nothing like Absolute Virtue or Absolute Evil. In God’s Universe there are no Absolutes; everything and every action is in relation to another thing or action. It is because of the Relativity of Time. The only Absolute is the Creator Himself; He is Timeless.

What if ideas, concepts, words and sounds too have an Absolute Total Quantity over Time? In that case we would only be regenerating these (in the same manner as other forms of Energy)! When I was small I read of a machine that would produce all possible combinations of letters and digits and punctuation marks (say in just one language). It would thus produce all the literature of the world that has already been produced and all that that is going to be produced. There is only one problem though; the time taken for all the combinations would be eternal even with super computers. After that another eternity would be required to sift the meaningful from the gibberish and who knows all the meaningful from all the gibberish? In relative terms (the only terms known to us) one man’s gibberish is another man’s intellect!

Now we turn to the concept of Free Will. All religions believe, with some variations, that Man does not have Free Will. If you followed my arguments so far, we can never have free will since we have a position in this universe which is relative to others. Every action of ours is in relation to others. Here is what Swami Vivekanada had to say about the concept of Free Will,” Therefore we see at once that there cannot be any such thing as free-will; the very words are a contradiction, because will is what we know, and everything that we know is within our universe, and everything within our universe is moulded by conditions of time, space and causality. ... To acquire freedom we have to get beyond the limitations of this universe; it cannot be found here.”

In Guru Granth Sahib it is said thus: Hukme karam kamavne payiye kirat firao (According to the Lord's Command, people perform their actions; they wander around, driven by the karma of their past actions). And what exactly is this kirat? It is what God ordained for you. In Bhagwat Gita, Lord Krishna tells Arjuna not to be carried away by the fact that those arrayed across from him were all related to him and would die by his actions; he said in any case the whole universe is related to you and in any case they are going to die. But what about your Karma?

This brings us to the most interesting concept of Life and Death; we know that these are not Absolute. Hence, for something to be born (not Created but born in the sense of the word ‘Born’ as we understand), something has to die. This also explains the doubt by a number of meta-physicists who feel that if Creator or God already knows that his creation (say, a man) would be wicked when he grows up, why did he create him? It also explains why there are floods and earthquakes.

In the great Hindi movie Waqt (Time), there was a beautiful song whose lyrics were:

Aage bhi jaane na tu, peechhe bhi jaane na tu
jo bhi hai, bas yahi ek pal hai


Anjaane saayo ka raaho mein dera hai
Andekhi baahon ne ham sabko ghera hai
Ye pal ujaala hai baaqi andhera hai
Ye pal gawaana na ye pal hi tera hai
Jeene waale soch le yahi waqt hai kar le puri aarzoo.

(What is beyond you don’t know; what is past you have no knowledge
What is really there is only the present moment.

In this world dwell the shadows strange,
We are all embraced by unseen arms.
The present moment is the only light, rest is dark for us.
So do not lose this moment, only the moment belongs to you.
O living being, think, only this Time is your own
To fulfill all your desires)

There is only one flaw in the lyrics of the song; that is, the suggestion to “soch le” (think). It is because the moment you think, you are transported to another “pal” (moment), which is either in the past or yet to come.

A few years ago, when I went to Spain, I saw the bull-fighting that I had heard so much about. All the impressions that I carried of bravado were shattered when I learn that it was not so much fighting but it was actually more like a play or drama with three Acts called the tercios (thirds), the start of each one announced by a trumpet. The first stage is tercio de varas (the lancing thirds) when the picadors soften the hump of the bull with lances. In the next stage, the tercio de banderillas (the third of flags), the three banderilleros each attempt to plant two banderillas, sharp barbed sticks into the bull's shoulders. These anger and invigorate the bull. In the final stage, the tercio de muerte (the third of death), the matador re-enters the ring alone with a small red cape, or muleta, and a sword so as to finally kill the bull by piercing his heart by a sword through the already softened hump, what is termed as estocada. Accidents do take place in all the three acts. However, in this play or ritual or drama the bull has no choice but to die.

I was reminded of the Hindi movie ‘Anand’s famous speech by Rajesh Khanna, “Babu moshaye yeh zindagi ek rang manch hai; aur hum sab usme kaam karne wali kathputliyan. In kathputliyon ki dore upar wale ke haath mein hai. Kab, kaise, kahan, kis kis ko uthna hai yeh koi nahin jaanta” (Dear Sir, our Life is a play-stage and we are all puppets participating in this play. The strings of the puppets are in the hands of the Almighty. When, how and where he would make anyone disappear (die) no one knows”.

Many have misinterpreted the last words of Christ on the cross, ‘Father forgive them, for they know not what they do’ to indicate the wickedness of the Romans. Actually, Christ has said these for the entire mankind. He knew that Man has no way of knowing what he is doing because only God has that knowledge. Talking about Christ, He also gave us an example of our ignorance in believing in Absolute Virtue when he saved Mary Magdalene from being stoned for being a sinner. He said the first stone would be cast by the one who had not sinned. No such person existed. No such person exists even today.

Hence, if there is nothing like Absolute Virtue and we do not exercise free-will to do anything, we can only strive to do Good in what we believe to be Good. We can neither be judgmental of our own deeds nor of those of others. Here is an excerpt from the song, from the movie ‘Do Aankhein Barha Haath’:

“Ae maalik tere bande hum
aise ho humare karam
nekee par chale, aur badee se taley,
takey huste huey nikley dum


Bada kamjor hain aadmi,
abhi laakhon hain is mein kamee
par tu jo khadaa, hai dayalu bada,
teri kirpa se dharti thami
diya tune humey jab janam
too hee zelegaa hum sab ke ghum


jab julmon ka ho saamnaa,
tab tu hi humey thaamnaa
voh burai karey, hum bhalai bharey,
nahi badley ki ho kaamnaa
badh uthey pyaar ka har kadam
aur mitey bair ka ye bharam’

(O God, we are your servants,
Please make our karmas such
That we take the path of Good and be afraid to do the Evil
So that finally we return to you in joy.

Man is very frail,
As of now he has many shortcomings,
But you are all merciful,
And this Earth is in its place because of you.
Now that you gave us birth,
You will bear all cruelties done on us.

When we face cruelties,
Please keep us in your care.
But, when others do Evil and we do the Good,
We should never have a desire to seek revenge.
Let our every step be that of Love,
And we should shun all animosity.

I think that the realisation that there is no Absolute Virtue is the beginning of our knowledge about our Absolute Ignorance!

TEMPLE OF GOD

"Hurry", said the man from his rickshaw seat,
"Else, we would be late for the Mangal Pooja".
His wife tugged nervously at the flowers,
She had gathered as an offering to the gods.
Her face was red with accusation,
Not just against the frail rickshaw puller,
But also against her husband,
"I told you not to hire this man,
He hardly has strength to pull,
Let alone pull with speed.
We shall have the curse of the gods
For being late for the Pooja".

Pic Courtesy: Allianz Knowledge Site

The City of Joy,
Mother Theresa's adopted city,
Was as unkind to the rickshaw puller,
As ever it used to be;
he could have been a slave under the British yoke.

Pot holes and filth on streets were not enough
To chastise the rickshaw puller;
It had rained heavily and hence,
He stood behind the pulling bar
In knee deep squalid water.
He had promised his family of three children
And an ailing wife, food,
After two days of starvation.
Their hope of meals, on the seat behind him,
Blasphemed him with all their might
For making them late for the prayers.

I saw the sweat on his muscles,
I saw the wetness of his brow
As he tried in vain to get the wheels
Out of the unseen ditch.
I thought how wretched was the man,
How cruel was life for him;
Could anything be worse?
And then,
And then, I looked at the couple on the seat.
Fuming and fretting,
Cursing and abusing,
Little did they know,
How close they really were,
To your temple, O God!

DURING OUR DAYS

One month out of the Navy and already I am using this hackneyed expression. Read on; it may just be different from the old-hat.

After wielding the stick at me for some time, one of my COs suddenly shifted to the carrot approach. “You are lucky”, he thundered, “I have made a list of my COs and believe you me, all of them were b------s of a very high order”. But surprisingly, instead of bemoaning, there was an air of wistfulness about him, as if his COs having been anything other than b------s would have been a letdown! How many times we have heard of these comparisons between the present and the good old days – our days? Is it only a natural instinct for us to somehow relate to those halcyon days of our youth or was there really a big difference?

The other day, a really dear friend came home to share the evening meal. The conversation drifted to the propensity of the senior hierarchy of the Navy to get entangled in trivial matters. I told him that I had seen the signs of this many years back. I recalled that whilst the Book of Reference on Seamanship laid down that a Petty Officer of the Watch would supervise lowering of sea-boats; in effect I have seen the Ship’s Commander personally involving himself in the evolution; and, in case there was to be a Commander who felt that his POOW was good enough, his CO would nudge him, “Number one, just go down and see everything is alright”! I also told him that we had anchored our ships in Bombay harbour as Acting Sub Lieutenants; and whether any CO of today would ever take that risk. My friend disagreed; lately he has taken to disagreements to appear more assertive and I granted him that. Then he went about saying that he knows of at least one Commanding Officer of a large ship who has permitted a Sub Lieutenant to bring the ship alongside.

Now that is something! Despite all his disagreements this friend is a good soul and in this case he had a relevant point – we are often too judgmental of the actions and perceptions of those who joined the Navy after us.

A few years back in the US Naval Institute Proceedings (USNIPs) I read an article titled ‘Fish Rot from the Head’ (Major General J.D. Lynch, Jr., U.S. Marine Corps (Retired) (Feb 1995). The crux of the argument was that whilst lamenting the decline in the professional ethics and morality of the junior officers we should do a little soul-searching and conclude that the senior lot is also responsible for the rot; indeed more than the juniors. Thus General Lynch concludes, “The best way to motivating and leading our young – rather than to merely criticise - is to set a living example of professional standards and moral courage of the highest order.”

The commendable leadership and courage displayed by the young officers during the Kargil conflict, against almost impossible odds, prompted the Commandant of Indian Military Academy to say, “Their bravery and sacrifices can be compared with those of Shahid Bhagat Singh and Shivaji”. Admiral Nadkarni reminded us in a post – conflict article in The Indian Express, of the “indisputable courage of our jawans and the leadership displayed by the officer corps. Hence, if our young officers have it in them to prove their worth in battle, the litmus test, why do we have this bias that they lack the values we had during our days? And yet, we often admit that the intake level of the present era men and women joining armed forces is much inferior than in our days. Isn’t it an admission of the sense of commitment of the present lot who have to climb steeper to reach the same heights or standards as were seen during our days?

Every era is modern in its own time. To compare the values of one with the other without a debate about the circumstances, constraints and opportunities may not be objective. I recall the period of my first CO as an officer. The ceremonial involved in his arrival on board and departure were such that all work, not only on the upper decks of the ship but also in the dockyard in vicinity, used to come to a standstill. A battery of men used to receive and see him off, including men for carrying his briefcase and keeping the car door open. The prestige and powers enjoyed by a Lieutenant Commander at that time were more than those enjoyed by a Commodore of today. A signal made by the Commanding Officer of a ship used to be respected by the shore authorities even when made for shore power supply or shore telephones.

Nowadays, irrespective of periodic and forceful reminders that the tail should not wag the dog, the ships are very nearly on their own, with their staff going from pillar to post to be able to meet deadlines. Authorities ashore find it more convenient to do the policing job, sending a plethora of do’s and don’ts on such wide ranging topics as ’care and maintenance of diesel alternators’ to ‘correct procedures and norms for expenditure through non-public funds’ to ‘parking instructions’. It is not my case that these subjects are not important. But if a great deal of time and energy is to be spent in correcting the perceived mistakes and proclivities of lower formations and personnel, it would leave very little time and inclination to assist in finding solutions to problems that ships and personnel are facing more than during our days.

“We never made such stupid mistakes” may not be the correct argument. It would be akin to a father shouting at his son for poor marks, only to discover that the Report card being shown was his own of his school days!

‘Every officer or sailor above a Seaman’s rank is a leader’; we never get tired of saying. But we conveniently forget that every leader requires some free space around him to be able to demonstrate and exercise his leadership. How many times have we let a Petty Officer to lead on his own or a Commanding Officer or Director to exercise his powers without keeping the headquarters posted (a euphemism for seeking prior approval). Should it be the argument that in the bygone era men could be trusted more because they had proved to be worthy of trust, the older generation would still have to share the blame for not having developed adequate trust in their subordinates.

We are good at issuing instructions on every conceivable subject – a sort of broadcast method of communications (no reply needed or expected). However, confidence, trust and values cannot be promoted by issuing tons of instructions. Let us examine the oft-repeated injunction to the youngsters not to do anything that may sully the good name of the Navy. Here too, a modicum of objective reflection would bring home the point that there are more oldies that have dragged the Navy into media and courts for promotions and appointments than the youngsters. Senior officers who had navy running in their veins only the other day, stridently air the ills of the Navy as soon as they miss their promotion or are posted at a non-choice stations or appointments.

The young officer of today does not look at the Navy with the same awe and optimism as his predecessor used to do. The never ending austerity measures, the ever diminishing free space, the intense and 24/7 security measures, and the perceived loss of dignity and prestige (especially in comparison to his civilian counterparts) are constantly tugging at his consciousness whilst we want to remind him of our times. It is all very well to assume the ostrich pose or to be always suspicious of his intentions, morals, ethics and professionalism or to keep reminding him of our lofty traditions and enviable heritage. But, it would be better to do something to change the reality – his reality, that is – and not the reality during our days where we continue to live even during these days.