NOT MY DOG /EXPERIENCING AMERICA

A recent conversation with a person who returned from the US after a six month stay there got me thinking. Why am I not enamoured of that land despite the fact that more than half my family is there? These dual citizens seem to have the best of both the worlds – the developed and developing - and truckloads of money. Why is it that I can’t bring myself to accept the offers to sponsor me to become a green card holder?
Mebbe it’s patriotism ; or is it the fear of being uprooted? loss of identity?
Too tired to indulge in an introspection and an analysis. It’s past midnight and don’t have the energy for an intellectual exercise- but I don’t mind looking back at a certain experience I had in the US, which might hold a clue to the answer.
While in the US on a brief visit, I found myself walking along the waterfront in Florida early one morning. There was a row of fenced houses along the waterfront and I was walking briskly on the broad lawn between the houses and the water. All on a sudden a bulldog jumped over the low fencing of a house and charged towards me. I stood there petrified- and the dog also stopped - I got a feeling that the beast also was as scared as I was, and the thought flashed through my mind that it was ‘cos of the salwar kameez I wore which might have made me appear like an alien to that ugly creature (by the way I’m not one of those ardent animal lovers – I prefer human beings). Anyway I stood rooted to the spot for sometime staring at the dog. All right. I can’t stand there for ever – and nobody seemed to be in sight ( what on earth made me venture out all alone in this land where toddlers carry guns to the nursery?) – thought I’ll pick up a stone and looked down - the lawn was so well kept that I couldn’t find even a pebble. The creature suddenly seemed to muster some courage and started moving slowly towards me. I made motions of picking up a stone, and aimed at it. It worked - the thing jumped back and began snarling at me ( ever seen a bulldog snarling – God! don’t people have any aesthetic sense? keeping such a thing as a pet???!) . I repeated this gimmick a couple of times but soon the creature saw through my bluff and started walking towards me – God almighty, I was terrified!! Just then I saw a welcome sight- a well-built middle aged gentlemanly looking white man appeared and was jogging in the direction of the dog and me. The dog also spotted him and appeared to wait for him. I was relieved – at least I will have company in my misery. Still better, a person who will shoo away the animal. The man drew closer but did not seem to slacken his pace as he neared me – soon he was alongside me but he didn’t appear to see/care for the desperate plea in my eyes. And as he passed by me without stopping or even acknowledging the presence of a damsel in distress, I called out to him. THE DOG IS TROUBLING ME, I said. NOT MY DOG, he replied without looking at me, without even altering his pace ever so slightly!!! The days of chivalry are indeed over, thought I with a sinking heart. I felt an intense longing for India where, I felt, even a beggar would have used his stick to ward off the dog - - - - --- .
That stupid creature turned back to me and was in a mood to continue from where he had left off, when a woman came to the wicket gate and called out to the dog. It bounded back to the fence , leapt over it and walked back to the house along with the woman. It threw a couple of backward glances at me which made the woman stop in her tracks, turn around and glare at me as though I were the canine creature indulging in bullying !! God knows what she thought I was up to! Not that I care a damn!

So much for the man, the woman and the animal of the developed world!

The Beatles and me

I must have been in my early teens when the Beatle mania burst into my part of the world. John, George, Paul and Ringo filled my small world, leaving space for none else. Those were days of the turntables, spool tapes and radiograms. I used to keep the spool tape ready and wait expectantly, tensely for a Beatle number to be announced on the radio, then bounce to the tape recorder & switch it on when McCartney’s voice drifted from the radiogram, through the disturbance and all.
Of course the elders were disapproving – of the Hard Days Night and the No Reply----; and ‘when my heart went zoom’ my father's face would turn livid, and would look as though he’d have a blood vessel burst when the voice scaled higher & higher with ‘miiiiiiine!’.
It didn’t improve matters when my siblings started demanding that their trousers be stitched skin tight and they be permitted to grow hair. On the last count my father held his ground but lost out on all the rest to the Beatles. We begged and pleaded and managed a good collection of The Beatles LP's and singles.
Now, I’m well into fifties and must confess that I never really grew out of the Beatles. I have tried to analyse this lifelong obsession with this group. It’s funny, the way I sit bolt upright when I hear a Beatles number unexpectedly or the way I buy a magazine if there’s some indication that there’s an article on them inside-----. Initially, I toyed with the idea of presenting a research paper on their lyrics but soon gave up the idea because the requirements of research and its methodology can never provide space to reveal the way this alien group dominated my childhood imagination, then pursued me with different types of appeal in all stages of my life and continues to create an intense, almost unbearable nostalgia with Yesterday and And I Love Her and I should have known better------------
If you think long enough on it, it’s strange how in those days when we never saw their live performance on TV, when all we had were stills of LIFE magazines which I treasured till recently, we KNEW how they performed, how they looked in action! and the shots we saw much later were not any different from what we imagined them to be. Could it be that they are an extension of some suppressed impulse in you waiting for release?
Paul was my favorite; maybe because it was his voice that rendered all those numbers in an untrained but irresistible style, and which sent my mind thru' the English countryside that I’ve never visited. He is still capable of evoking pictures of the aging Eleanor Rigby looking out of her lonely window or a 64 year old couple in the Isle of Wight with grandchildren Vera, Chuck and Dave on their knee!
And their melody, I wish I knew enough about music to go into its intricacies. But this I know. There are very few songs that move me like And I Love Her and Yesterday. Never have I heard such absolute harmony of the sentiments and strain as in these two songs!.

jetairways

Am the type who gets weak kneed each time I have to board a flight -made a trip by jet airways recently. doesn’t help when the Titanic signature tune is played repeatedly during the course of the flight. On nearing Mumbai, the aircraft couldn’t land on account of non-availability of runway- it circled over the Mumbai airport for half an hour waiting for the signal – circled to the tune of Titanic – believe me it was horrible – one reads about coincidences – and despite my efforts, my overactive imagination went berserk and there flashed before my mind’s eye images of the next day’s newspaper with clever headlines about a disaster---kept my eyes shut tight – and then, O God, that titanic tune came floating down again- it was too much – shut my eyes even tighter and put my head down – my co passenger thought I was going to be sick and reminded me about that a bag was in the seat pocket if I wanted to throw up- didn’t respond – appealed to all the saints in the heavens – reminded St. Christopher that I had asked him before I left home to take care of me – thought I’d approach someone closer to the Almighty – Angel of God, my guardian dear - - - -cried my panicking heart – thud-bump-bump-thought it was over – my eyes flew open to catch a glimpse of this beautiful life before the flames consumed me – and then - -lo and behold!!! - we had landed -----

went to mohammed ali road after reading in the newspapers about the roadside hospitallity of rotis, tandoori chiken, mutton - - -
reached there by nine pm. is this what is meant by the term ' sea of humanity'?-women in black burkhas, men in flawlwss white and white skull caps- hundreds and hundreds of them; people like us who came to be part of this wonderful celebration of 'breaking the fast' ; rows and rows of stalls selling suits, dresses,chappals, belts, accessories, shades, hosiery-you name it! hundreds haggling, buying , moving on to the next stall- as tho they had the whole day before them- and it was well past nine!
And of course there was this aroma of roti and tandoori cooking. we waited for seats. tables were put out perpendicular on the both sides of the road with only pedestriams and two wheelers moving up and down thru the space in between. our turn came. we ordered roti, mutton cury and tandoori chicken( forgot all resolve to avoid chicken in the wake of the hype about the bird flu). Soon we were joined by a family- as soon as they took their seats, they spread on the table the newspapers they had brought along with them. they gave us a few sheets and suggested we too take this precaution against the not too clean tables. soon food came-never have i eaten such delicious preparations!
we do a lot of eating out- but this was a unique experience. looking back, i realise it's the ambience, that atmosphere charged with the feeling of camaraderie, goodwill that made it so different.
Life can be so beautiful if we can keep things at a very simple level and keep it free from the caste- creed- nationality notions and all the complexities they involve.

oh when will it suffuce?

The blasts in Delhi. Terrible. That irish poet's lines keep resonating in my mind.
Too much of sacrifice will make a stone of the heart
Oh when will it suffice?
yes, when will all this hate get spent ? it took more than two centuries for that to happen in Ireland. isnt that too long a period ? feel numb with depression. cant go on.

all about Mahatma, modi and hitler

a lot of excitement about the supreme court's decision on cow-bull-buffalo slaughtering. narendra modi's response was sensational! he triumphantly recalled that Mahatma Gandhi too recommended banning of cow slaughter. Pity, a few years back he didnt recall what the great man had to say about human slaughter....
talking about the Mahatma, went to mani bhavan last week - surely the residence (occasional tho) of the father of the nation for seventeen years deserves a better deal than that!!!!
went around the shabby rooms and saw the exhibits. saw the letter Gandhiji wrote to hitler pleading with him not to start a war! wonder if hitler ever saw that letter- wonder how he reacted.
gandhi and hitler - the two people that dominated the imagination of the last century! does anyone know what they thought of each other?

random thoughts

a term has come to an end- suddenly my hands a re full- with time to spare- cant remember all those things i promised myself i'd do when i get time-
went to the beautician and chopped my hair- i look weird - how do i face the world? i did- no one seemed to notice- except the person i wished wouldnt notice. 'how do i look?' 'great' with a pained look.
decided to knock off a few kilos-walked for an hour almost after a long time- came back and looked into the mirror - looked as if i'd shed one nth od a gram somewhere-decided to keep up the good work i began- just then came dewali goodies from my good neighbour- how did they know that crunchy cadburys was my favourite - not everyday that one gets a lavish helping of it- tommorrow is another day -shalll walk an extra half hour.

Strange feeling

I teach- i belong to the old world- but the new never ceases to fascinate me- dont want to be left behind-so here i go bloggin-
can someone tell me about bloging-i mean in what way you find it exciting? any dangers i should watch out for?
ok-why did i decide to become a blogger? well, i write -a lot- a couple of my articles saw the light of the day-the rest must have landed in the editors' trash bins - but like all aspiring scribes i think i talk sense ----

criminally enlightened!

Mr. Tharu, your journey from a caste ignorant human being to an intensely caste conscious (and apologetically so!)Syrian Christian is hardly an edifying narrative. Tragic that the ultimate outcome of academic research is the perpetuation of another discourse in the name of progressive politics.
During your ‘criminally ignorant’ days, didn’t you have friends who were dalits but to whom you attached no such label? How do you serve the cause better by imposing caste meanings retrospectively on your past interactions with them or by being born again with an identity constructed consciously in terms of the counter narrative which has been doing the rounds centres of learning for some time now?
Believe me, the patronizing condescension keeps popping up throughout the piece.
Kochuthresiamma PJ