Travel diary 2

“ Less than three hours from Mumbai and its plutocrats and boasters, this was the India of the hut, the cow dung fire, the bean field, the buffalo, the ox cart and the bicycle of debt and drought and death..” Paul Theroux- Ghost train to Eastern Star

Each year, my summer vacation starts and ends in a retreat of sorts- spending almost 2 days ensconced in a metal capsule tearing through the fabric of India… the route has been different, the beauty of landscape- each unique from the other but what amazes me is that the India I know of and boast about is hardly the true India that I see …

Each year we are coaxed, cajoled and ultimately anointed with words and promises by our leaders- the so called people’s man who screams and shouts and paints a glorified India… and we bray and scream and shout in return in that reflected glory…  giving examples of how so and so NRI is now head of so and so company, how some other country’s parliament and senate is getting filled with Indians...  and we go to sleep… happy in our two bedroom with AC above a small garage with a small car home… happy that our leader has promised a better day tomorrow. So what that its only for me..  a small section of the people who make up India..  the rest...  well the rest is still walking…  mocking and defying this mad rush towards self-gratification that has begun to hypnotize and devour India. They are the ones who make my India great. They do not make you forget them… they are there... right at the horizon…  spread in tarpaulin covered hutments next to huge gated communities with manicured gardens looking like a high society candy wife.

Another sleepy station passes by… the platforms are empty under the high noon. A few wait on the cement benches under the asbestos shade. They have that posture of eternal wait… as if the bench itself was carved around them… their eyes vacant, lost in thought. It looks to me that they are born waiting… waiting for a better tomorrow. As if they have lost hope in today… and so it is to be chugged out like the train through a tunnel; trudged along so that tomorrow comes early. A few vendors have made it to the AC compartment selling juice and cold drinks. Each one has a unique voice … akin to the rainforest mating calls… juss le lo.. juss.. paani butol.. paani butol… isccee.. isscee… expectant and timid.

Evening creeps into the compartment. A junction… the train stops here for some time… a fellow passenger occupies the berth opposite me. There’s a briefcase which he diligently locks up with a chain and padlock. He looks up at me, dismisses at one glance and settles down with a newspaper. He is soon joined by another. The two work for a medical company in high post… soon a few young men come to say hello. The two middle aged persons ask for water, biscuits and chai. The young men are diffident. Their eyes tell me the same story of eternal wait- wait for a promotion… a good word… some inside tip to make the bosses happy to get that corner office; they are the living, breathing advertisements of that flashy… German silver kind of modern India.

From time to time, each one tries to gauge me, wondering whether I am  married …  do I have children… is my husband going to come… the surreptitious look at my fingers, neck and forehead tells me that. I do not have the black beaded chain or the vermillion or the ring to mark me as an already possessed property. I peek out of the window… the farmers are returning from the fields… herding the cattle. Each one’s cattle has a different colour as a mark to show whose property they are. The wife walks behind… with 3 huge jars of water on her head… above the vermillion marked forehead and beaded black chain. 

The two men are arguing—some news in the paper has upset one of them…I lose interest as it is again that story about reflected glory… whether demonetization has helped or not. One boasts how he has helped the driver… the other not to be outdone, talks about how the maids were given full salary even under constraint. Both optimistic that their huge sacrifices will bring in a stronger economy…but they fall silent soon and gaze out of the window lost in their own thoughts. Suddenly the silence is broken by a popular Hindi song… it’s the mobile phone of one man ringing. The wife has called to know whether he is comfortable and then some inane talk. I hear instructions of what to do with the five thousand left in the bedroom drawer… who gets what… no meat or eggs to be bought till he comes back. He ends the call and settles down to have his lunch made at home. Thus spoke the patriarch running his workers, home, providing for everyone… the old Zaminder like aura around him. The other strikes up a conversation with me… where am I going? From where? What about my dinner? He has a niece of my age working in Bangalore… the new tinsel town of middle class dreams… filled with PG accommodations of young men and women who more than the job, value their freedom to enjoy their youth away from the middle class prejudices and rules… the lure of sex, alcohol and freedom… a delusional life glorifying India. I smile. Then the inevitable… am I married? At my answer, the usual advice- marriage brings stability, there is someone to take care of me when sick etc. How his niece had to be brought home due to a sudden appendectomy… how the parents forced her not to return without marrying. This is again what I like about my India, advice and the territory of wisdom that inevitably comes with age… so I relent and make myself look interested to indulge him. He continues… working is good… every girl should work… what use is education if you cannot work. How he, the uncle has arranged a wonderful match for the said niece.  I ask timidly what she does now. A big smile… he shows me some photos in his mobile…the girl… with huge vermillion mark on the forehead holding a baby… and the same vacant look of expectation for a tomorrow. She delivered a healthy boy last week… all is good… she has a caring husband… there are two maids working for her. The husband has great prospect, he will leave for Germany at the year end.

Night has fallen outside. The train moves… wobbling and rolling like a toddler through the fields and vast expanse of rural India. Specks of light flashes by… a completely dark field passes by with silhouettes of hills… a large billboard with the advertisement about the latest programme of the government… all level crossings to be electronically operated across India at a huge expense with a happy couple from rural India smiling out towards the darkened fields and me.

I like the nights in the train… especially on full moon nights… a surreal and ethereal feeling of being one with the universe. But this time it is during the new moon phase… there is a tiny crescent moon at the horizon. It is amazing how some events make you see the everyday mundane things in new light. I have found out that I have started to dislike that crescent shape… too many memories and conjectures around it. This moon reminds me of the weak thread holding up India… a lofty ideal of solidarity and friendship that is proved to be as frail as the train I am travelling in. The rail roads of India is a legacy of British… many of the tracks are too old to carry the teeming growth of population. Each year we are promised everything better including state of the art rail service. It is the most coveted portfolio of the ministry just like the post of director in a little known company  in some far corner of India. It is all powerful cesspool of corruption. But we Indians are never short on praising nor are we short in giving advice. We are the modern day reminder of Gaelic people that Wordsworth spoke about. We are fascinating in our survival- an ancient culture with all its prejudices, myths, and superstitions in the face of the chugging metal mammoth of Modernity and Capitalist values.

As the lights dim and this tiny slice of India settles down for the night, I open the curtain and look up at the sky. Clouds have moved now, the sky is speckled with stars, smiling down. I know that if anyone would care to take my photo now, I too would have that look of expectation, dreams and of a tomorrow that is rose tinted. Till then lets rock and tumble and whistle through this fabric woven with dreams, tears and passion that I call my India.

Nationalism- Ver. 20.16

For the past few weeks, my Facebook page is flooded with all kinds of articles and news clips and quotes. I have shared a few as well, which I found appropriate. Being a Theory of Knowledge teacher, I could not but think what prompted me to select a few articles and share while leaving the rest to become ghosts in my own personal digital history?

The issues that are being considered from all fronts remain the same which have piqued the interest of philosophers- What is meant by nationalism, patriotism, democracy, secularism etc and above all the liberty of us in the supposedly largest democracy of the world

Needless to say, that the concept of every modern state rest on these ideals.However, the recent academic outrage and the common man’s divided opinion leads me to try to understand these ideals in relation to recent scenario unfolding in India.

In 1947, gaining independence seemed easy compared to the perils that the new nation faced- partition,  communal riots and massacre, a war at the front, death of a revered visionary leader and a government at the helm who had spent most of their pre-independence days in jail or under house arrest. Nevertheless, we had the plan laid out in front of us- with over 170 million poor the plan laid out depended heavily on industry instead of agriculture and irrigation. In the second five year plan, the focus shifted to industries with massive import. No doubt, the price rose by 30%. And then onward, it has been a careful tap dance by each successive government. The first government had already sworn its allegiance to certain group of people- the upcoming industrialists and a retinue of middlemen.

Over the successive policies and systems and numerous plans in place, the state of the nation’s health remains same –Massive number of malnourished, hungry, uneducated, unskilled young population. The new government at the helm has already revamped and put forth 55 policies and schemes of entitlements or "yojona"- eager as a child to show how different and lovable they are from the old one.From the very beginning instead of listening to Gandhi whom the politicians conveniently called Bapu, the strengthening of clerical education continued with emphasis on Universities than primary schools. IITs were set up but not many primary schools opened. Hence the disparities grew- between rich and poor, between employed and unemployed, between marginalized and the mainstream upper castes. Scientific education was and still is limited to only a few. When resentment grew, politicians knew how to appease the masses because they had taken their lesson from history – from the best people actually- so divide and rule followed. Instead of secular policies, the various policies of appeasement was started and is still continuing. Where else on earth would you find a secular government paying money for the marriage of Muslim girls instead of paying for their education. This is the story of secularism in India.

The idea and the state sanctified version of nationalism is closely tied with this policy of deception followed even from Pre-independence days. Tokenism was the rule of the hour- so starting from Gandhi in South Africa- the Dalits , the Muslims were accepted as  a mere tool to gain power vis a vis independence.  In the entire history of Indian National Congress in its 130 years of existence, we find just a handful of Muslim and Dalit names. A country or a party evolves through experiences just like an individual. Hence Congress is always afraid of a rerun of events leading to Poona Pact. Thus, instead of eradicating this menace to civilization once and for all, it continues to treat the issue as a situational skirmish and individual resentments. And when the appeasement fails, comes the rhetoric that have made them almost the owner of Indian freedom struggle- the idea of patriotism and nationalism. So Bapu is called upon again and the ghost of the great statesman saves the sycophancy from total annihilation.

For a country like India, with 22 scheduled languages, diverse customs, a straight-jacketed idea of nationalism as that of Ireland or Italy or Germany would be difficult to fathom, let alone work. Our idea of nationalism is as diverse as the land we live in.

Borrowing from Tagore, here is one idea of nationalism- “Patriotism cannot be our final spiritual shelter; my refuge is humanity. I will not buy glass for the price of diamonds, and I will never allow patriotism to triumph over humanity as long as I live. ”And at the other spectrum of the idea is the belief of Netaji Subhash Chandra- “Nationalism is inspired by the highest ideals of the human race, the truth, the God, the beautiful.”

The political nationalism of Netaji that is flaunted so much nowadays is a borrowed concept from the West; born of war, guilt and millions of death and destruction. Modern India is still a land as ancient as the civilizations of the world, born at a time when the West did not exist. The customs, the philosophy born from this ancient land is quite different. Here the society gives rise to kings and government and not the other way round. The idea itself is a failed concept that has already caused numerous fragmentation of the land on the basis of language, people of Telengana being the last victims.  The tribals, the marginalised people, the upper castes, the states with their languages- each has their own brand of nationalism where the loyalty and priority shifts with time and situation.

When it is convenient, go for regional autonomy, otherwise, talk about national unity. So whenever there is an exchange of fire at the border, suddenly we are reminded of our sacred duty to defend our land. At all other times, we are happy to see our caste, our language, our region prosper at the cost of social, secular interests of the country as a nation.

 It is so amazing that what Tagore said a hundred years ago still holds true-“Yes, this is the logic of the Nation. And it will never heed the voice of truth and goodness.It will go on in its ring-dance of moral corruption, linking steel unto steel, and machine unto machine; trampling under its tread all the sweet flowers of simple faith and the living ideals of man.” 

It is time that we upheld that simple faith and the living ideals of man and not this profound and all engulfing hatred called as Nationalism.

Celebrating Wrath and Death

Daily struggle

Sunderbans- if you google it, you will come across the words like mangrove and largest delta. These words however, hardly captures the essence of the place. Sunderban is 45 kms from Kolkata and in just 2 hours you can reach the outskirts. You will be greeted by people who look quite similar to you and me- wearing Bata sandals, jeans, salwar kameezes and going about their way of life. If you ask, they will tell you which shop sells authentic wild honey; which shop to go to for the Gur Patali. A wide bridge now connects the islands with Kolkata and you are happy still to be part of civilization. Mobile tower is there for you to stay connected. You will be told by the tour operators to wake up early; hot water will be given for your morning chores and then you can set off for a visit to the forest on a launch. Everything is as it should be. It is winter, as you can see, best time to visit Sunderban.

Hope of surviving

 When you are happily ensconced in the warmth of the morning tea and bath, women are already out and knee deep in the icy waters of the backwaters or the “Khari”. They will stay there till the sun is up and it gets little warm. Their feet is turned white for staying so long in the saline water everyday- they are collecting the meen- baby prawns. For every bucket they will get only 25 rupees. If they try to cheat, their contract will be taken away by the Bheri wallahs. Most men by now are far away from the shores catching fish. They have to come back and sell their produce at the whole sale market by 12 so that they reach Kolkata markets by evening so that you and I can buy them on the way returning from our offices.

Boards have been put up at many parts of the forest- It is now illegal to collect honey or timber from these areas. The government is taking all measures to protect the national animal. You will be entertained by the stories of women who have survived an attack by the tiger- how only with a sickle they fought back and took out an eye or a paw off from the tiger. How a tiger can cross a mouth of seven rivers locally called “Saptamukhi” and take away cattle. How a tiger tracks the honey collectors for several kilometeres to target the weakest among the men and wait for the opportunity to pounce on him.

In the meantime unknown to you, people are struggling to raise even one crop of paddy. Post Aila half of the soil has become saline. So the yield is low and unlike other areas where flood is a harbinger of productivity, here people have started to dread the floods as more flood mean more salinity. The fresh water ponds used to raise the fish have been destroyed by Aila so that livelihood is also snatched away.

It comes to you as a very exotic tribal ritual when the front of the launch is painted red and a few flowers and agarbatti offered everyday by the head “Majhi”. You take photos of this ritual to show how you have been part of this exotic ritual.. maybe even recite the “Bonbibipaaala” in your drawing room next Saturday.

However, if you can take one step back in time, you will see how relevant this legend still is. How and why it is an enduring tale still recited by the people of Sunderbans- How they relate to “Dukhi” – the epitome of sorrow and how miraculously he is saved by Bonbibi. You will see that people of sunderban need to believe in this story, more now than ever before because they all wish the same- survive in the face of fierce wrath of nature compounded by power hungry bureaucrats and “shohure- babu”- those city people who draw up the policies without visiting them even once.

Here is a glimpse of that play. One of the Majhis in the play had been a school master. He lost his job when the school was destroyed by Aila. Then he was given the job of a tourist guide. He took up the job happily believing that now he would have some security. Unfortunately, the policy makers decided that such people deserve a blue uniform and an Identity card- that’s all. Whatever money they earn from the day is for theirs to keep but not to expect any allowance or pension- very magnanimous indeed- they gave him a job.

We are called for dinner by the tour operators. It is the last night in Sunderban. Tomorrow by evening I shall be home. The Paala wallahs are picking up their little props and costumes and putting it back in a large tin trunk. The care with which they fold each garment is the only testimony of their plight- that one trunk is their hope of survival- soon the tourist season will be over. However cold the nights are, however far they are from their homes, they will trudge on reciting their " Bonbibi Paala" for us..They will survive another year. Only Bonbibi knows what will happen next year... she will take care of them. If not, then also it would be according to what is written already - their fate.                       

The Journey Itself is Home

It’s December. The last holiday of the year. This time instead of flying, I am going home by train. It is a 27 hours’ journey. I shall cross three states and five large rivers. Everybody wonders whether I am a fool when I say that I willingly submit to this sheer wastage of time.

But this journey is important to me. For 27 hours, I stay in a time capsule. Minimum contact with the outside world- the cocoon of steel and iron all around and the dull, monotonous sound of the wheels. It is almost like a retreat for me- a time forced to reflect, to introspect on a year gone by. Somehow, this solitude makes me closer to myself. I finish a book, listen to songs and go through the old photographs in my laptop….

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It is such a wonder to look at the world through the looking glass- farmers going about their everyday chores in the fields, children walking to schools, waving to strangers, watching the sleepy cities roll past the window; little homes decked in light to usher Son of God, a bright red star on the roof, ghost platforms and abandoned cabins and the far-off highway lights.  And when you lie down, the stars and the moon follows you like a companion to your soul.

I love such long journeys. It is a blessing that I can love my own company.  It teaches me about patience, anticipation and most importantly, enjoy the moments of the panorama called life.

El Dorado of Mexico soon becoming an Environment Holocaust site

There is a small town called Guerrero in Mexico. Nobody had heard of it until a few weeks ago. Now it is an epicentre of a war between environment, livelihoods of people, a sold out government and multinationals. The northern territories of Mexico is fast becoming the El Dorado due to its huge shale gas reserves.

 Back in December of 2013, the Pena Nieto government opened up auction of its oil and shale gas reserves and MNCs like Shell and ExxonMobil rushed in to make deals with the State owned PEMEX for drilling and extraction of these gas reserves.

The most common method to extract the gas is fracking which is filled with dangers of fire and even earthquakes. The process involves a mixture of water sand and chemicals pumped through the drilling wells at high pressure. This forces the natural gas to be forced out from the pores in the shale bed. The gas then turns to the surface via the wells.

(image courtesy- the Guardian)

Needless to say that the danger of contamination of ground water and soil is very high although oil companies vehemently deny it. The biggest enemy of environment is poverty. The towns in Mexico and the ranching villages are soon becoming deserted. The people are blackmailed or forced to either sell their land or become unwilling partners to the oil companies. Already stories of environmental degradation and damages are surfacing-

The oil spill in Tierra Blanca in Veracruz contaminated part of Hondo River, turning the water to blood red. This is no isolated event, just another one in the timeline after the Sonora oil spill and the 40,000 barrel San Juan oil spill. Since the northern Mexico towns were predominantly poor, people there hardly earn 300 to 400 pesos. The offer of one million pesos is too lucrative to them. The towns are thus bought off and turned to these fracking well monstrosity.

Mexico has a long history of organized crime. These northern territories come under the Zeta country- run by organised crime cartels. Pemex, the state owned Oil Corporation has already run into losses due to the theft of oil and gas from the pipelines by such cartels. The government has recently seen its worst crisis when 43 students were abducted and feared killed by such a crime organization. Although the engineers and workers of the MNCs are protected, there is hardly any protection offered by the weak police force to the villagers. In 2012, headless torsos of 43 men and women were found in the northern border town of Monterrey killed by the rival crime cartel of “El Chapo” Guzman who is recently in the news for escaping from a Mexican prison. Many have been forced to leave their land and move to the cities adding to the burgeoning water and land crisis there.  

Unless the government becomes strong both financially and politically, Mexico is soon going to face a “ Environmental holocaust.”

Blooms of Freedom

Away from the prying eyes,
At the turn of a road
I stand timidly, waiting.
freedom's breeze e'en then
seldom touches my flowers,
Plenty and yellow... yet sacrificial.
I stand alone, trying to defy.
One sultry evening
Benevolent sky broke
Born from  my timid wishes
They left me naked, left me bereft.

Now, after slumber days of mellow summer
I stand tall,ushering the unknown,
Dreams of my soul-
Nodding and welcoming, my yellow blossoms. 

My first word cloud

A new year is just around the corner. I take pride in being part of the community of dynamic movers and shakers, the unsung heroes of the world- the teaching fraternity. Last night, as I was looking back on what I had achieved this year, all I could see were a few faces- a shy one, a mischievous one, a sad one, a troubled one and so on. All these lives have meant something to me. They have transformed a bit of me.
I remember a girl who loves to read. she used to sneak a book inside her desk during the evening preparatory time. I often ignored her. I knew she was not good in many subjects but I never had a heart to tell her to close that wonderful imaginary world of dragons and start studying. Maybe, her grades have not improved. Still, she finished big, fat and thick books..
And then there was one student of mine who would not study at all unless he sat with me. And more often than not studying turned to chatting about dogs, turtles, snakes and rocks...
Here is my first word cloud that I learnt to make. The words in this cloud says all about what my students have achieved or are in the process of achieving, if not today then tomorrow surely. 

Ayn Rand and Her Brand of Selfishness

              'The man who does not value himself, cannot value anything or anyone.'

Much is being spoken about these days- that we have to be selfless, devoted to the cause of others and their upliftment. It is the most spiritually attainable goal in one’s life. Anyone who works towards making his life better is looked down upon because he is not human if he cannot shell out his hard earned money for food and blankets for the beggars. He cannot drive his car daily if he cannot be empathetic towards the poor living on the pavements.  However, we forget that if we are selfish then and only then there can be a change. Ayn Rand has been criticized for too long for upholding this simple truth.

That selfishness can be a virtue has been condemned by the people who think that helping others and devoting their life for others is the only fulfilling task of man on earth. If anyone reads through the novels of Ayn Rand, he or she might think of her rotting in hell – like her protagonists who create chaos in a seemingly functional world.

Ayn Rand is probably the best example of a person way ahead of her time, a martyr to the collective hypocrisy of a society. When she argued that man should live to promote only his happiness, it was received with utmost derision. People claimed that the society would become decadent and hedonistic in its pursuit of individual happiness. They did not understand the superiority of the virtue of selfishness- To be thoughtless and harm others cannot be in your self- interest. That was not the selfishness that Ms. Rand was speaking about. To be selfish, she urged people to devote oneself completely to reason- not faith, not moral and societal obligations- to achieve the highest in one’s life and to make all sorts of sacrifice needed to achieve that- that was her philosophy- “Every man builds his world in his own image. He has the power to choose, but no power to escape the necessity of choice.”

Many people have interpreted her ideas to suit their selfish purposes. She never endorsed anarchism and contrary to popular belief, she was not against the government also. She accepted the government for what it should be- providing and creating best possible environment to achieve individual perfection. And individual perfection was her idea of selfishness- created and fostered by creativity, and as applications of the role of reason as man's basic tool of survival: rationality, honesty, justice, independence, integrity, productiveness, and pride. “Do not ever say that the desire to 'do good' by force is a good motive. Neither power-lust nor stupidity are good motives.”

 Yes, she was against the standard of values dictated by man and society- Here too her reason was that ethics that is forced on a man can never promote and prosper ultimate good in society because it is forced upon the free will. She was the modern advocate of Aristotle’s concept of “Free will”. Any knowledge other than that perceived by your sense perception is a knowledge forced on you by the society for its own purpose. She did not believe in the concept of emotions, intuitions and ethics as a source of knowledge. Existence of one’s own self is a reality- it cannot be bound by irrational ideals and thoughts.  That is why, she vehemently opposed the idea of modern altruism as coined by Comte. Greater good cannot be achieved in a society ruled by mob mentality- for a cannibal society, this would tantamount to one individual’s protest against eating human flesh. So a person going against that tenet would be looked upon as a nonconformist and creator of chaos. If we think deeper, this chaos is needed in a society to shift from its selfish motives towards collective good ultimately. Modern altruism finds fault with the money system- they see it as a creator of divide and class system. But Rand says money is the necessary tool to bring change- to what end you wish to bring the change is your purpose in life. Again, to reiterate Rand, harming others and selfish acts of destruction cannot be in the self interest of individuals- without going into the morals, ethics, value system provided to a person, simple reason and rationality will force the person not to do it. Because if he does that, he will not be able to exist himself.

Photo courtesy-www.quotessays.com

 ‘Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.” If according to modern altruism, we believe in donating and devoting for the cause of others, not to have a desire for self-fulfillment, I dread that we remain slaves to the first part of this proverb… It cannot lead to greater good since we have not ignited the spirit of selfishness in him- we have not taught him to achieve anything, to take pride in his work, to question, to create something intrinsic to his nature in the face of opposition.

So the virtue of selfishness as promoted by Rand is the highest virtue that can be achieved in life. A life should be completely devoted to reason and its choices- ideals and principles should not be coated in words and standards of evil and good. The evil of the society is that it has, through stories, legends, actions handed down by parents that doing anything good for your own self is evil while giving money and blankets to others is good. Any reasonable man would agree that to sacrifice his life for some strangers’ well being cannot be the be all and end all of his existence. Altruists will argue that without this moral code, there cannot be any global consciousness. But to quote Rand, reason, purpose and self-esteem should suffice to promote universal good- you do not need to sugar-coat it by moral codes, ethics. Because ethics itself is spawned by the hypocrisy of society- it is a servant to the greed and power of society- a hegemonic rule over the power of reason and egoism of individual.  The question is whether a man should live life according to standards set by another individual- whether his existence is subservient to the whims and conduct of others. If it is only reason that we answer with, the answer will be no- irrespective of time, society and emotions. “Man—every man—is an end in himself, not a means to the ends of others; he must live for his own sake, neither sacrificing himself to others nor sacrificing others to himself; he must work for his rational self-interest, with the achievement of his own happiness as the highest moral purpose of his life.”

Geography of the minds

Whenever there is a hint of terror in our great land- India, some historians and elite intellectuals start beating the drum of “Hindu-Muslim unity”. They trace back to Akbar’s marriage to Hindu princesses; the support and fight beside each other during the Great Mutiny and how Gandhi created a secular front in the largest political forum of pre-Independence- The Congress party. It is true that the common mass of India, its teeming millions in rural areas have lived in harmony with each other. However, if we look at even such minuscule societies with a magnifying glass, the harmony at best can be termed as cohabitation and amicable relationship. The Muslims of India have been, through the years, made to believe in a land- “ of milk and honey”, “of the most holiest of holy”- PAKISTAN.

Surprisingly, the land now so geographically entwined in the world map is less than 100 years old. There is no mention of Pakistan in any written religious or secular records. So the question arises- Where did this land originate? This brings me to an interesting concept- the geography of mind…or psychogeography.

 Psychogeography as defined in 1955 by Guy Debord as "the study of the precise laws and specific effects of the geographical environment, consciously organized or not, on the emotions and behaviour of individuals." Quoting Karl Marx, Debord further says- “People can see nothing around them that is not their own image; everything speaks to them of themselves. Their very landscape is animated.”

The term is relatively new and deals with a specific political and physical manifestation of post-colonial times.

The idea of a land is first implanted in the minds of people and it creates such powerful imagery that the idea endures for thousands and thousands of years until the political conditions favour towards making it into a reality.

4000 years ago, a book proclaimed- “To you I will give you Canaan, as the portion you will inherit” Psalm=105:7-Bible. With this began the pursuit of a nation to strive against all odds to create and cut out a physical reality out of a dream contained in a book- So powerful is the dream that at every Passover Seder, the Jewish diaspora ends the feast with the prayer- saying "Next Year in Jerusalem!" The birth of the nation state of Israel is a modern miracle. Never before or since there has been such a history where the people inherit a land after being banished from it for 4000 years. It is a miracle due to the tenacity of  a people to hold on to a dream in the face of  immense persecution through centuries- from the days of Moses to the First Crusade, then through the banishing of English Jews, to the days of Black death, and in recent times, the isolation of Jews in Russia. In this respect at least, Hitler had nothing new to offer. He just framed the old words of hatred in new literature and words and policies. Throughout this time, the nation was kept alive only in the words, religious practices and the customs…. Israel first resided in the minds of Jews long before there was any semblance of it on world map. Then in 1882, the first Jewish settlement was built in the land of “milk and honey”. On 14^th May, 1948, Israel became a land on the world map. It can be thus celebrated as the first successful project of Psychogeography.

There is another much closer instance of a land born from an image and an idea endured in the minds of the people.

“Our brave but voiceless nation is being sacrificed on the altar of Hindu Nationalism not only by the non-Muslims, but also, to their lasting shame, by our own so-called leaders with a reckless disregard of our protests and in utter contempt of the warnings of history.” So begins the pamphlet that has shaken the history of South Asia and still continues to play a vital role in world politics.

Choudhry Rahamat Ali was born in a Gujjar family in undivided India. In 1933, far away from the “voiceless nation” across kalapaani, he gave Indian Muslims a vision- a land most holy, carved out from the oppressed land that they were forced now to share with the Hindus. And he asked- “Are We to Live or Perish Forever?". 

Unlike the fate of God’s chosen people in Bible, however, Muslims of India already had a land to live in. So, the zeal and the seed of image of this land had to be powerful enough to want to find fault and hate for the physical reality of the land they were living in and henceforth covet the land of dream. To implement this, Rahamat Ali focused on the politics of the land and the freedom struggle. He gave the flesh and skin to this imagined land-

“Pakistan' is both a Persian and an Urdu word. It is composed of letters taken from the names of all our South Asia homelands; that is, Punjab, Afghania, Kashmir, Sindh and Balochistan. It means the land of the Paks – the spiritually pure and clean.”

“They (the Muslim Delegates of the Round Table) have accepted, without any protest or demur and without any reservation or qualification, a constitution based on the principle of an All-India Federation. This acceptance amounts to nothing less than signing the death-warrant of Islam and of Muslims in India.” From then onwards, Indian freedom struggle had two characteristics- overthrow of the British Raj and to find a way around the “death warrant”. And on 14^th August, 1947, Quaid e Azam Muhammad Ali Jinnah successfully saw to this “unprecedented cyclonic revolution which has brought about the plan of creating and establishing two independent Sovereign Dominions in this sub-continent. As it is, it has been unprecedented; there is no parallel in the history of the world.”

The antiquity of Ramayana can be traced back to 4^th century BCE.  It is thus much older than the Bible. The story is well known not only in India but in the entire South Asian subcontinent. The benevolent prince going to exile with his wife and brother, the fighting with the demon king and the destruction of his land followed by the banishment of the wife and creating a just kingdom.

Even in this age of Agni missiles and Bluetooth, there are villages in India where the evening entertainment consists of the priest reciting from and explaining the various chapters of this epic to the masses. According to Hindu mythology, Rama is the incarnation of Lord Vishnu, whose specific task was to kill the demon king Ravana and establish a kingdom where common people would be living happily ever after. Whether the common people really lived happily in these 11,000 years, there is not much evidence of. However, there are quite a few references as to the description of this rule or Rama Rajya- This was the time when people lived happily in harmony. There was absolute peace as every other king had accepted Rama as their sovereign ruler; there was no war or disease or hunger. Justice was true and dealt an honest deal. People, moreover, were wealthy and lived a holy, pious life emulating Rama.

Such is the power of this imagery of the Prince and his almost heaven like kingdom that it endured in one of the finest minds of our time.

Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi was born to the fourth wife of the Diwan of the small princely state of Porbunder in 1869. The family deity worshiped in this household was Rama. There was one Rama temple where little Gandhi used to visit with his mother. It was this petite, illiterate, nondescript woman who sowed the seed of nonviolence and endurance of the soul in Gandhi. As Prof. Ramachandra Guha says- “Mohandas’s mother introduced him to the mysteries- and beauties- of faith.” Gandhi believed in creating a nation out of India based on the highest standard that can be reached by any nation- a Rama Rajya where there would be no inequality of caste and wealth; where people would live in small self-sufficient units without coveting others’ land and people in perfect harmony with the natural flora and fauna. “My idea of Village Swaraj is that it is a complete republic… There will be no castes such as we have today with their graded Untouchability….. Here there is perfect democracy based upon individual freedom.”

So strong was Gandhi’s belief in Rama, that he himself emulated Rama in several of his acts. On 2^nd March, 1930, Gandhi wrote to Viceroy Irwin about his plan for civil disobedience movement- “If my letter makes no appeal to your heart, on the eleventh day of this month I shall proceed with such co-workers of the Ashram as I can take, to disregard the provisions of the Salt Laws.” This was exactly in accordance to what is written in the epic- that Rama released Lanka’s spies and even announced that he was going to attack Lanka the next morning.

In recent years, there has been a lot of controversy over the true meaning of Rama Rajya. Without arguing for or against any of those, it can be said that the idea of a peaceful, wealthy, happy and just nation is the Utopia that is appealing to a Muslim illiterate farmer and a Hindu college professor alike. So the idea of Rama Rajya lives on in the minds of the people. However, whether we can see a physical manifestation of such a land on the world map in future will depend largely on the way we wish to create it. The ability to create and understand abstract ideas is unique to us only. Hence our living space is both abstract and concrete. What we achieve is what we dream of first. Thus if ever we wish to see a Rama Rajya will depend on the path chosen to arrive at it- through violence and dogmatic persuasion or through acts of benevolence for greater good.

What do Bengalis get during the 5 day frenzy of Durga Puja?

Some pseudo intellectuals have often questioned the sheer madness that surrounds Durga Puja celebrations in West Bengal. They argue about the money spent during the Puja; the amount of energy “wasted” by the people; the traffic, the crowd, the gimmick… in fact everything that creates the madness. This is my humble reply to them.

On the day of Mahalaya, Sealdah station is swamped by dhakis the drummers who are an integral part of Durgotshob. This is the only time they can feel proud of their tradition and skill. They earn 10,000 to 20,000 during these 5 days. Rest of the year, they earn a meagre amount by working as migrant farm labourers. Durga Puja keeps their art alive. Many have even flown to San Francisco, Berlin and London.

Photo courtesy- www.mumbairock.com

Shola grows wild in marshy waterlogged areas. This seemingly abundant plant provides livelihood to almost 5000 craftsmen- the Malakars of the shola Pith craft.

Photo courtesy- www.biolib.cz

The milky white stalk of the plant is painstakingly processed for months to produce the intricate decorations that adorn the Durga idols all over West Bengal and in Kolkata.  Due to the hype and so called “gimmick” of these 5 days, the craft has now seen a revival. Many villages namely Banshberia, Moukhali, Hattala,Rangaberia, Chaitanyapur and Muldia have started shola works.

Each year, a sleepy suburban town near Kolkata creates a Disney like magical world through their “tuni bulb” light works. Great personalities, animals, circus clowns, peacocks, “Mayurponkhi nouka”, “thakurmar jhuli”, characters from”Abol Tabol” comes alive on the streets of Kolkata.

50,000 people work in this trade. The best prize for “alokshajja” goes to the Puja organizers. The puja committees set aside almost 5 lakhs for these unique light works that will add to the popularity of their theme and Pandal. Not only in Kolkata, there is a huge rising demand for these light works in far off Gujarat, Mumbai and Ranchi. Their work is now appreciated all over the world. The most famous being the giant peacock barge at 2003 Thames Festival.

Media reports that the total expenditure in Durga Puja is growing at a 30%. More than 2 lakhs artisans of different crafts and art make their annual living from this festival.

Apart from this, the five day celebration provides almost the entire year’s income for other craftsmen- zari workers, Natun gram’s Wooden owl makers, dokra workers, the pandal makers and of course, the 260 units and 9000 patuas from Kumartuli. 

And, for those who are still sceptical about the worth of this Puja for Bengalis, here is a thought. It is a tribute- to the indomitable courage of the people of Bengal- those middle class households who save each penny throughout the year to visit a new place, go for a tour in Rajasthan, Gujarat, to the hills of Himalaya and North East;

It takes courage to smile through the debts, rising price of everything that is needed for a decent living, to say no to bribe even when an extra 500 would buy a much needed medicine, to live a deprived life even when there is easy money available if only they say yes to a decadent wish or a corrupt request.

These 5 days, Bengalis renew their spirit, their hope and prepare for the grind that awaits them for the next 365 days. They take pride in small achievements- a bike, a rise in salary, a gift of a jewellery to their mothers and wives, a computer for his son or daughter and other little dreams that make no sense to others but for them, it is just an inch forward to a better life, a reminder that their lives are not worthless. So, yes, Bengalis get a lot from Durga Puja.

Our Brain Holds the Key to Our Connection with Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence

Our Brain Holds the Key to Our Connection with Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence

There has often been a conflict in two philosophies of life- The East- with its over emphasis on religion asks us to live a pious life so that we can have a less painful afterlife while the West –with its overemphasis on science, reasoning and consciousness asks us to live our life the way we choose to with complete disregard for an afterlife. One believes in death as “the irreversible cessation of all vital functions especially as indicated by permanent stoppage of the heart, respiration, and brain activity: the end of life”, the other believes in continuation of soul.

In all ancient cultures and even in all the tribal cultures all around the world, death is looked upon as a part of an ongoing process- it is just a stage in the journey of soul.

Modern science has only recently woke up to the fact that it does not completely know the functions and mechanisms of human brain and human body.

It seems that “god” (extra-terrestrial intelligent species) made humans in their mirror form. And surprisingly, with serious effort, a person can break the barrier of body and material consciousness. Dimethyltryptamine (DMT) is a psychedelic compound that resembles the basic structure of neurotransmitters. When ingested, DMT is able to cross the human blood-brain-barrier, allowing it to act as a powerful hallucinogenic drug that dramatically affects human consciousness. Those who have taken DMT speak of similar experiences- of meeting or seeing spiritual and/or alien spirits.

The best examples of such encounters are found in Shamanism practised by Amerindian tribes of Amazon basin. Out of millions of plants, only a few plants in Amazon produce DMT. The brew prepared from such plants is called Ayahuasca- Aya- meaning “soul” and Waska meaning ‘liana” essentially- “ liana of the dead or spirit liana.

First “miracle” – DMT is produced in human body although its function is unknown to scientists. Is it the key to unlock the barrier and meet our true ancestors coded inside our body just like we do for our robots now. Many indigenous people claim that the name of the plant that could produce DMT which can be utilised by our bodies without the enzimes breaking it down- was given to them by spirits of the plant itself in “dream time” usually the days of origin of that tribe.

Second “miracle” – Irrespective of who drinks the brew, the experience is similar- hallucinations about god like beings, intelligent spirits and most important of all- spirit of Ayahuasca- a sort Supreme Mother. Such hallucination causes a reality switch in the person. That is why ayahuasca has been used to cure drug addiction, mental diseases by the shamans from ancient time.

Third “miracle”- Brain is the key to our connection with these true ancestors- It seems that our near death experiences alter our personality. Those who have near death experience become more altruistic, less materialistic and more loving. Such change in personality happen in relation to what is needed for an all-round growth of individual- So who determines this change? The brain, according to science is dead for the 10 -15 minutes. So where does the body and brain get this signal to change? Considering the aftereffects, the near-death phenomenon seems to stimulate the brain hemisphere that was not previously dominant. There is also an observable movement in the brain, structurally, toward data clustering and creative invention - as if the person was developing a more synergistic type of neutral network –involving the brain as a whole and not just as two separate hemispheres-.There is now established historical evidence that many people who have contributed significantly to the betterment of our society had near death experience- Abraham Lincoln, Albert Einstein, Queen Elizabeth I..

Scientists are now working to find the importance and behaviour of particles that could have momentum and energy but no mass- ie our souls. Photon particles can be a case in point.

Till we find irreversible proof from science, let us believe that our true ancestors gave us all the power to do good, heal the earth and do wonders and miracles. We have ruined that blessing with our doggedness and our faith in our invincibility. Let us rewind the track of progress just a little and give Earth little breathing space.  

Read more at-

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s42vuf0ahU8- Graham Hancock- The war on consciousness- TED Talk.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dimethyltryptamine

http://dreamherbs.com/helpful-articles/stories-of-near-death-experiences/

http://www.dailyom.com/library/000/002/000002527.html

http://www.dailyom.com/library/000/002/000002527.html