Popular mysteries

Crop circles on Salisbury Plain

Mysteries have always fascinated people. With the passage of time, mysteries have undergone change. If in olden times it was the yeti and other mysterious creatures, now it is extra-terrestrial visits and UFOs that tease our brains. The crop circles on Salisbury Plain date back to 1910. A woman, while working in her grandfather's wheat fields in Tilshed near Salisbury spotted the circles. The circles were formed by wheat being so firmly flattened that it could not be lifted without some springing back down'. Some crop circle researchers (known as 'cereologists') said that the famous Salisbury Plain megalith, Stonehenge, was itself built to commemorate the spot where a crop circle once formed. Some theories had it that the circles were left by extraterrestrials. After the circles got wide publicity, a farmer in the town said that the circles were his prank. He also demonstrated how he made them.

Loch Ness monster

In Europe, most mysteries exist in Scotland. Scotland is proud of a rich native tradition which has nourished many myths and folklore. So the imaginative minds of the Scottish people have been able to fabricate many tales and mysteries, anthropologists say. One such mystery is that of the Loch Ness monster, nicknamed Nessie. Newspapers in Scotland have narrated sightings of a large dinosaur-like "monster" with flippers like the pre-historic reptiles. The monster has been a resident in Loch Ness for over a century. The case has occasionally been supported by indistinct photographic evidence. Several scientific studies, including sonar surveys, proved that such a "monster" did not exist. However people believe that underwater caves give the monster many places to hide.

Elvis has never died

Elvis Presley, the rock legend, was so great an artist that people refused to let him die even after he died! A cultural icon, he was commonly called the 'The King of Rock 'n' Roll' or simply 'The King'. As per reports the artist, born in 1935, died at the age of 42 (in 1977) after an illness caused by drug dependency. People, however, claimed to have seen him at many places since. Elvis has appeared in super markets and at petrol stations. Some even saw him work in bars. For the last three decades and more, 'Elvis sightings' have become part of the American popular culture, breaking even the record of UFO sightings in many parts of the country. A society devoted to Elvis sightings was formed. In Missouri, an 'Elvis is Alive Museum' was built. Psychologists argue that the death of some people is too hard to believe. Those who admire them always create a myth which will never die.

Number 13: The mystery and belief

Inauspicious sign

From ancient times, people have associated destiny with certain numbers. In the Mayan civilisation, the number 9 was deemed inauspicious, while in Mesopotamia number 5 was associated with fertility and well-being. But none of these numbers has withstood the test of time like number 13. Romans believed that the number was the symbol of death. As per a Norse legend, the 13th guest at a banquet was the epitome of evil. In the Last Supper, Judas Iscariot, the disciple who betrayed Jesus for thirty silver coins, was the 13th to sit at the table. The number still frightens many societies all over the world. There is no building in Paris that bears the number 13. Italy omits the number from its national lottery. In the US the economy registers the loss of about $ billion, owing to the cancellation of trains, planes and business places and to the absenteeism from workplaces on the thirteenth day of every month. In 1911, the word 'Triskaidekaphobia', meaning the fear of 'thirteen', was coined.

A successful failure
After the 13th Apollo Space Mission was given a final shape in 1970, scientists were thinking over the schedule of its launch. Those who finally came out with a time chart took exception to the number 13 belief. As per the chart, the spacecraft took off at 13:13 (1:00 pm) on April 11 so that it could reach space on April 13. But what happened on April 13 was something unexpected. There was an explosion on board and the spacecraft leaked oxygen. Despite great hardship caused by severe constraints on power and cabin heat the crew successfully returned to earth. The mission was thus called a "successful failure". Another event connected with number 13 took place on April 13, 1928, in Puerto Rico, Florida. In a hurricane, 2,000 people were killed and damage worth $ 25 million was caused.

The symbol of luck
All these events notwithstanding, we can't completely regard number 13 as ominous. Some religions and people revere the number as the symbol of luck. As per a famous Sakhi (a story of Guru Nanak), the Guru believed the divine grace resides in number 13. Vaishaki which commemorate the formation of 'Khalsa' or the pure Sikh is celebrated on April 13. In Judaism, 13 is the age at which a boy matures. There are 13 principles of faith in the Jewish prayer book. In Christianity, the Infant Jesus received the Magi ( three kings who visited Jesus) on the thirteenth day after his birth. Buddhists pay homage to 13 Buddhas. Several successful sportsmen have worn number 13 jerseys in their careers. Dan Marino, the great American football player and Basketball great Wilt Chamberlain ( see in the picture) are two of them.

History's wrong predictions

Batista in 1959

In 1959, Fulgencio Batista, the dictator of Cuba made a prediction: "I will give Castro a year." He was saying that after a year the guerilla insurgency under Fidel Castro would be crushed completely and the revolutionary leader would be executed. Twice he had foiled Castro's rebellions and arrested him - in 1953 and 1956. Bastista, for whom politics was always a gamble, wanted to have an opponent against him. So he released Castro from prison. But the rebellion in 1956 was so strong and violent that Batista thought of executing the guerilla chief soon. After crushing the rebellion and releasing Castro, Batista arranged a party at Hotel Riviera which he built at the cost of $14 billion dollars. It was at this party that he predicted Castro's death. Unpredictability, which is the nature of all major political events in the world, befell Cuba after a few months. The third major coup led by Castro shook Batista's citadel with violence. His prediction did not have even as much longevity as he expected Castro to have. Castro ruled Cuba for 47 years before he handed over power to his brother Raul in 2007.

Thatcher in 1974

In 1974, Margaret Thatcher was the Cabinet Secretary for Education in Britain. At that time there were remarks in the media that if a woman had to become the prime minister of the country, Britain had to go back to monarchy. "Democracy is too immature to give woman the supreme power," said a famous columnist. Thatcher did not have objection to these comments. In a widely publicised speech, she made a prediction on the much-discussed issue. "It will be years before a woman either leads the Conservative party or becomes a prime minister. I won't see it happening in my lifetime," she said. The next year, British history witnessed a dramatic breakthrough. Thatcher was chosen to contest for the party leadership in 1975 and was selected for the post by a great majority. In 1979, Thatcher became the Prime Minister and led the country until 1990. Margaret Thatcher was the longest serving Prime Minister in more than 150 years and was the first woman ever to take the role.

John Paul in 1978

To be elected the Pope, one should have great catholic virtues, an infallible service record and, above all, a great amount of luck. Karol Wojtyla was sure of the first two qualities. Of luck, he was not much confident. So in 1978, after voting John Paul to the post, he said:" It's too early for Polish Pope". In October of that year, following the death of Pope John Paul I after 33 days, Karol became the 264th Pope, the youngest to hold the position since Pope Pius IX in 1846. He was known as Pope John Paul II and remained in the position until 2005. All of the major themes of John Paul II's papacy can be traced to the shaping events of his life--a life whose roots are sunk in Polish soil. His Christian vision, his vocation, his very emotions draw their depth and intensity from the country he left to become Holy Father of the Catholic Church in Rome. He revolutionised the office of the modern pope and took his mission out of the Vatican and around the globe, pushing back the boundaries of the old Christian Europe.

A tale of three cities

A city straddling two continents

"Istanbul's greatest virtue is its people's ability to see the city through both western and eastern eyes," says Nobel laureate Orhan Pamuk in his ' Istanbul: The memoirs of a city'. It's the amalgam of two cultures that has made Istanbul a different city altogether. It's the only city in the world which is located in two continents, one arm reaching out to Asia, the other to Europe. Today Istanbul preserves the legacy of its past as the former capital of three successive empires- the Roman, Byzantine, and Ottoman. The name Istanbul itself is interesting. Etymologically, the modern Turkish name is derived from the Greek phrase meaning "in the city", "to the city" or "downtown". Byzantium was the first known name of the city. All these qualities notwithstanding, Istanbul has been torn by earthquakes and disasters. In 1509, the city was partly destroyed in a tsunami, one of the earliest of its kind in the world.

The city of water

Those who have read Shakespeare's 'Merchant of Venice' can understand that the plot of the drama relies on the traffic of the city. Venice is called 'the city of water', where ships and boats are the only vehicles to carry people from place to place. It is described as ' the only city in the world where there are no cars'. The city stretches across 118 small islands in the marshy Venetian Lagoon along the Adriatic Sea in northeast Italy. The saltwater lagoon stretches along the shoreline between the mouths of the Po (south) and the Piave (north) Rivers. The term Venice is derived from a Latin term meaning 'sea-blue'.The Venetian Republic was a major maritime power during the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. Kerala's Alappuzha district is also a river town, which is the centre of lake water tourism in the state. That is the reason Alappuzha is called the 'Venice of the East'.

An African city named after a US President

James Monroe was the fifth President of the United States (1817-1825). It is he who said that "the best form of government is that which is most likely to prevent the greatest sum of evil". When a city was founded on the African continent in 1822, Monroe had a major role to play in financially helping it due to colonial interest. The city was named Monrovia, the only city outside the United States to be named after a US President. Monrovia is the capital city of Liberia, which became independent in 1845. The city has the dubious distinction of having the largest number of homeless children in the continent. A large number of children are involved in fighting or are denied education due to it. Monrovia is also the name of a city in California. Monrovia, the fourth oldest general law city in Los Angeles County, has grown from a sparse community of orange ranches. People travelling between Los Angeles and San Bernardino travelled "via Monroe's Ranch," hence the name.

Dance: Marathons and spectacle

There are two reasons why the great depression of the 1930s, which cast a gloom all around the US, contributed much to the development of art and literature. First, people had the spare time to take part in cultural activities. Second, these activities were the source of income for a cash-strapped society. It was at this time that that dance marathons became popular. They began in the New Year in 1923, when Alma Cummings won a contest and set a world record by dancing for 27 hours with six partners. The record was broken by Mike Ritof and Edith Boudreaux in 1931. They started dancing on August 29 1930 and continued up to April 1 1931 at the Merry Garden Ballroom, Chicago, USA. They won a prize of $ 2000. They danced for a total of 5,154 hours, 28 minutes and 30 seconds. During the marathons, dancers were allowed to take short breaks. During the breaks, they would kick and and pinch one another to keep themselves active. For reasons of health, many countries banned marathons.

Folk marathons
Much before they became part of well-furnished auditoriums with the accompaniment of musical instruments, dance marathons existed in many parts of the world in the form of folk and popular dances. One of the examples of this is the dance of whirling dervishes of Mevlevi order (Islamic mystics in Turkey). The dervishes dance around their spiritual leader in ecstasy for many days and weeks. Their movements are corresponding to the ones of planets around the sun, symbolising the pattern of cosmic order. Another dance marathon can be seen in the belly dance of Egypt. Belly dances are performed solely by women and men are not permitted to watch. An Essex woman named Eileen Foucher set a belly dance record by dancing for 106 hours from July 30 to August 3, 1984. Another dance form, the twist, became popular after a woman called Ra Denny twisted for 100 hours in New Zealand in 1962.

Dance spectacles

The most advanced level of all dance forms is their being a spectacle. Dance can be a prayer, an entertainment in a wedding party and a national celebration. But it becomes a masterpiece when it's choreographed and staged or filmed. Busby Burkeley (1895-1976) was the choreographer of the most spectacular dance films ever made. He was the trainer of US soldiers for their dance parades during World War II. Military experience helped him create dance numbers with casts of hundreds of people. Often by shooting the dance from a crane, he created spectacular visions. He earned fame by projecting performances on to giant mirrors so that the patterns they created would give them an aura of infinity. His masterpiece was 'Gold Diggers of 1933 (1933). In the film, there is a crane shot of 25 dancers with violins, 24 of them in a circle around the lead player. Together, they appear like a blue flower.

N-deal: The plot thickens

The countdown for the NSG countries to sit together and deliberate the India-specific waiver in their nuclear trade policy has begun. For the Manmohan Singh Government and the Bush administration, any positive resolution from the group is really important. Both of them have taken risks to bring the deal to the table of the 45-member group. If the NSG does not agree to the proposals, the UPA Government's commitment will be questioned. The Left parties will compare the government's attempt to that of Don Quixote, who fought with imaginary enemies for nothing. The failure of the deal at this juncture will be akin to suicide for the Bush administration, when the presidential poll is round the corner.
There are really some organisations which are trying their best to get the deal foiled. Arms Control Association (ACA) in the US is one of them. The Arms Control Association (ACA), founded in 1971, is a national nonpartisan membership organisation dedicated to promoting public understanding of and support for effective arms control policies. Through its public education and media programs and its magazine, Arms Control Today (ACT), ACA provides policy-makers, the press and the interested public with authoritative information, analysis and commentary on arms control proposals, negotiations and agreements, and related national security issues. In addition to the regular press briefings ACA holds on major arms control developments, the Association's staff provides commentary and analysis on a broad spectrum of issues for journalists and scholars both in the United States and abroad.
ACA's intervention in arms control measures has been exemplary. The organisation has pressurised many government and non-government institutions against the moves towards weapanisation programmes. The organisation is forcing Israel and other Middle-East countries to adopt measures of de-weaponisation. India has not yet promised to cleanse itself of the nuclear arms it possesses, the organisation alleges. It is not part of the CTBT and other non-proliferation measures. That the NSG exports nuclear equipment and other facilities to India amounts to helping a country develop nuclear warheads. This is the arument of ACA regarding the nuclear deal.
ACA has succeeded in forcing at least 15 countries among the NSG to ask India to rewrite the draft. The organisation has said that the rewritten draft does not fulfill the demands the group has raised. Whether the organisation will succeed in jeopardising the deal will be seen after the crucial meeting today.

Machines for perpetual laziness

It is a contradiction in human behaviour that the more we are concerned about the outcome of our work, the less we would actually like to work. We want to have all works done by others. The fact that invention of machinery has its origin in laziness will bring the point easily home to you. It's a wonder that our civilisation is developing at rapid pace despite ( and because of ) our inclination to lethargy.
It is a law of physics that energy can be neither created nor destroyed. A machine or equipment works as per the energy we exert on it. Objects, whatever be their quantity, are unable to make a motion on their own. We make them move. That is why despite robots or computers, we are always on the move. However, scientific laws are not eternal. They are always open to challenge. So have they always been so far. Can there be a machine which creates energy on it sown? Can the input of energy far exceed its output? Our lazy ancestors asked these questions time and again. The result: a machine called perpetual motion machine.
Perpetual motion machine dates back to 1150, when Indian mathematician and astronomer Bhaskara claimed that he invented a wheel which would run forever. During the Middle Ages a number of gadgets that are full of 'free energy' were brought to public. Leonardo Da Vinci drew sketches of such machines which, if powered by a little energy, will be on the move forever. Philosophers predicted of a time, when machines would keep man immobile. During Industrial Revolution, when many predictions came to true, as many perpetual motion machines rolled out as there are crazy people. In 1917, American President Woodrow Wilson protected an inventor who claimed that he invented an energy-free machine. The last of these crazy machines were made in 2008 by a person named Thane Heins. His gadget, named Perepiteia, is being analysed by physicists. Perepiteia is generator in which a magnetic friction is converted into magnetic boost which constantly produces electric energy.
We like to live in a world of make-beliefs. Since inventions like atom bombs have made us suspicious of science as a useful discipline, perpetual motion machines, which tear into pieces time-tested laws of physics, find enough space in our imagination. Remember the first law of thermodynamics. It says that the internal energy of a system is as much as the energy exerted into it minus the work done by the surroundings. Perpetual motion machine challenges the law by saying that the internal energy far exceeds the output. But a question remains: when does such a machine make man lazy? When too much energy helps a system develop intelligence and process of thinking. But a note of alarm in passing:
Will the machines enslave us in a distant future and make us to work much more than what we do today. A dreary prospect, oh lazy, crazy men.

Onam in a world of make-believe

Onam is the harvest festival of Kerala. All harvest festivals are conceptualised through a specific historical angle. Sir James Frazer in his anthropological classic ‘The Golden Bough’ points out that all harvest festivities have a unity of theme, although they are culturally different. There is a land devastated by famine, because the king is physically impotent and mentally tortured. If the land has to turn fertile, the king will have to be sacrificed at the altar of the deity. All harvest festivals from Europe to Egypt tell the tale of colourful festivities with the painful wail of sacrificed kings echoing in the background.
Onam does not completely fit into this frame. When Mahabali ruled Kerala, there was prosperity all around. It’s interesting for an anthropologist to imagine a time when a king ruled his kingdom without even a prison. However Mahabali had to undergo virtual regicide. The same qualities which made him a generous figure caused his ‘downfall’. There was a cosmic conspiracy to dethrone him. When gods conspire with one another to achieve something, they will definitely achieve it. So Kerala’s harvest festival is built on the theme of regicide. A king vanished into Hades not to save his kingdom, but to save his reputation as a generous king.

When some of our educational institutions are getting shorn of values and common good, a great legendary figure like Mahabali has to teach us mainly two lessons in order to prepare us to live in a competitive and consumerist society:
1, Saving oneself is better than being generous
2, Don’t trust anyone, even if he/ she is your god.

***
Onam celebrations begin from early morning. People come out to cull flowers for the beautiful floral patterns in the courtyard which, as hours go by, witness the musical performance Tiruvathira. Onathappan, a clay figure representing Mahabali, will enjoy the festivities and make the single day granted by gods to come and live with his subjects meaningful. This is followed by a sumptuous meal and a get-together of relatives and friends.

Telling tales of a nostalgic Onam celebration is only time consuming. In a nuclear family, courtyards are fast disappearing. So is the habit of gardening. If such a family has to celebrate Onam, there is an option
You can beautify the patch of earth in front of your flat with plastic flowers- if they satisfy the Corporation’s criterion of micron level. If your personal computer does not allow you to stand up for a while to engage in celebrations, you can youtube a Tiruvathira and after viewing it have an outing to a five star hotel. The chefs there will make you believe that they are far better than your ‘busy’ dad and mum in making an Onasadya. Anyway we are living in a world of make-believe.

***
The land has deteriorated. Even the statistical department can’t calculate the growing numbers of the poor. The farmers whose green produce enlivened your grandparents’ Onam celebrations have committed suicide. Our kings are answering the famine with mainly two solutions: Power cut and press meet.
It’s high time we thought of democratic regicide.


******Published in ' The Indian Express on August 3, 2008.

Medical science and a tale of deception

" It seems quite strange that you have been in the dark about your father's disease ever since it was diagnosed two years ago," Dr Yamini's unsympathetic words pierced through the smothered silence in the hospital. I lowered down my head and allowed impertinent tears to roll down my cheeks.
But my ignorance was neither strange nor surprising. I had been away from home for my studies and vocation since I was 15. Separation from the affinity of dear ones enkindled in me the passion to pursue new ideologies and ‘refined relations’. I read books voraciously, watched ‘unholy’ movies iconoclastically, and smoked away depressing loneliness ridiculously. The Spartan life I was leading was sharp enough to cut off the tight bond of umbilical cords. Eventually, I kept a distance, not geographical alone, but psychological as well, from home. Now my father’s disease has turned out to be a chance for me to repent my sins. In Sufi literature, it is said that fate intervenes uncompromisingly to take one back to home. Home, as for Sufis, is not a building erected with bricks, but one’s original self characterized by repentance and kindness.
Has the fate donned the cloak of heedless cancer cells to script a climax in my life?
*
Stocktaking

It is a crude joke that we seek metaphysical solutions to ethereal problems. It is this escapism that has perpetuated tyrannies and injustice. We point our fingers at our fate and the stars under which we were born, at the way our horoscopes were written, and at how the gods and goddesses play the game of chess with our eventless lives. But those who mastermind everything escape unhurt. So, dear believer, always take your stock, all the while you disappear into the smoke of camphor and agarbatti or into the sonorous hymns echoed in temples and mosques.

Here is an account of what has happened in my father’s case, or of what is happening in the case of many valuable human lives trapped in terminologies like ‘incurable’, ‘beyond any control’, which the medical science has coined to explain what seems unexplained.
*
Diagnosis

It rained the whole day at RCC. Raindrops that were splashed on the windowpanes rolled down to get collected somewhere beneath the hospital walls. They reminded me of the cancer cells, which form somewhere in a complex organism and multiply beyond the level at which a body can sustain them. Acclimatized with the organism at the initial level, they metamorphose into dangerous cells having high potentials to wreck damage to the foundation on which they exist. Like the extravagant offspring in a dilapidated ancestry, they will become self-esteemed paupers in no time.

I studied his treatment summary the day he was admitted at RCC. At Lourdes Hospital, Kochi, it started as an obedient ulcer. Some medicines and a strict diet, he came to normalcy in a few months. But somewhere in his sturdy body beaten to fragileness by the medicines, cancer cells multiplied unawares. Headaches and incessant coughing, he relied on the nothing-to-worry-about argument, until he vomited blood and fell unconscious in the shop. Biopsy and CT scan followed. Dr. Satyapalan at Lourdes gesticulated the possibility of cancer, which was undoubtedly proved at Lakeshore hospital.
*

Treatment

While I was waiting for an appointment with the doctor at RCC, a turbaned man with his barely- two-year-old daughter stormed into the hall and took the seat next to mine. He held the child closer to his chest. She was staring at his face with her beady little eyes. ‘A-p-p-a,’ letters blurted out of her mouth as if they were syllables of a symphony. He answered her call with an unusual grunting accompanied with a counterfeit smile. None can genuinely smile at RCC, especially a father, whose dear one has tested positive for acute lymphatic leukemia, the disease which we nickname as blood cancer. The result of diagnosis was clearly marked in the card he unfolded in his palm.

‘Appa’, she again called
‘Yes my little one’, words came out one by one
‘You should tell doctor uncle not to inject that big syringe…….I can’t stand it Appa’
A deep silence followed
Her aversion to injection (used connotatively for chemotherapy) is not peculiar to a child of her age. Chemotherapy, as per the level of its intensity, is potent enough to overpower the normal functioning of an organism. A good-looking, pleasant face of that girl may become an ignoble structure marked with dark spots all around. Her hairs, which after many years will bewitch gandarwas, may wither away.
The treatment of cancer, it is said, is crueler than the very disease.
Due to the cancerous growth in my father’s lower esophagus, it was cut off to be replaced with a plastic one at Lakeshore hospital. After hours of waiting outside the operation theatre, my mother was told that everything was normal and ok. Check-ups and medicines followed.
On an unfortunate day, he underwent chemotherapy, which claimed a good portion of his bank account. “The chemo can create wonders”, Dr. Sridharan said, “It will terminate further growth of cancer cells and the patient can lead a normal life”. Check-ups and medicines followed.
A severe headache reappeared in one of the hottest days of this year.
“No need of a check-up. Consult a physician around there. It is a climatic effect”, doctor’s ‘studied’ response to our phone-call. When we went to meet the doctor desperately, we were sent back with bag of medicines.
“Nothing to worry about. You are over-anxious”, Dr Yamini told my mother with a pleasant face.

Days after that hospital visit, he felt headache. This time he fell unconscious, while he was praying at the mosque. He was taken to hospital and admitted there. As per advice, a detailed MRI scan of his brain was taken. The smile of Dr Yamini’s face instantly disappeared, while reading the scan report.
“Now the cancer has spread all over his brain”, she told me, “It may be the fourth stage. Go to Amala hospital. Let him undergo radiotherapy. But a recovery will be unlikely. The disease at this stage is incurable.”
Knowing that we have planned to go to RCC, they tried to discourage us.
“It will be difficult for you to travel such a long distance with the patient. Amala is the better option.”
I was told earlier by a friend of mine that Amala and Lakeshore had a tie-up. Patients are transferred from one place to another on a regular basis.
I insisted on RCC. He underwent five courses of radiation treatment in as many days at the centre.
It was at RCC that I knew that the metastasis (the spread of the cancer cells into different parts of the body) had been so uncontrollable that the prognosis of the disease was getting worse. The countdown has begun. In six months, I will be fatherless. Medical science dictates everything in a stronger tone than that of the Gods.
A few questions remain unanswered. Not even by so great an oncologist as Dr Gangadharan:
1, in the treatment chronology, surgery is followed by radiation and then by the chemotherapy. Why is it altered in the case of my father? Is it because there was no radiation facility at Lakeshore?
2, why did the doctors promise my mother after the chemotherapy that everything was normal and ok? Was it because the fact that the treatment was in effective in my father’s case would deal a double shock to her after a huge amount had been emptied from her purse, or because the doctors themselves were unaware of the whole situation themselves?
3, why, with all the fact that my father’s is one of the rarest cases, was the first incidence of his headache not given a proper consideration? Why did their negligence and indifference give maximum leeway for the cancer cells to multiply at an unpredictable level?
4, why need a great physician like Gangadharan have the records and files of a patient like my father (his is a rare case, I repeat) all the time we meet him?

*
Post script

When the elevator went up and down in the pay ward section of the RCC, it jerked at times giving me the impression that it was silently crying. The gadget might have borne decades of excruciating pain. It might have shared much of the inexplicable anguish in the faces it carried up and down. What more, the bodies of little ones in whom the music of life one day ceased were taken to the down floor through the elevator.
On a Sunday morning, an ambulance was moving with wreaths of flowers all around
“It is a leukemia patient. A two-year old girl,” the security guard told me.

I thought of the turbaned man and his daughter.” It may not be the little one”, I prayed in that brooding silence.
My father is now having both homeopathic and Unani treatment at the same time. In the former, they say, the treatment is not disease-oriented, but symptomatic. It focuses on how the patient behaves, what his mental make up is and how he identifies with his predicament.
In Unani, the body regains its inherent strength to fight back the disease. That is the basic principle of modern medicine, ingrained in the famous Hippocratic Oath. (The pledge that the medical graduates takes in the name of Hippocratus, the father of medical science, at their convocation ceremony before the pracice turned out to be hipocratic oath).
I will again post on this topic on November 1. It is when I will be fatherless, if the prediction of medical science holds any substance.

Kim Ki Duk and the fascination of exotic

Films made in foreign, especially exotic, landscapes always fascinate us. This craze for foreign is not a unique phenomenon in the appreciation of art, but something inherent in the psychological make-up of almost all communities. Critics have pointed out an eastward shift in this fascination. Food, perfume and women in the Orient fascinate us. So do its culture and lifestyle. To the list, we need only to add cinema.

But is the argument conclusive? Is being Orient the only factor which motivates us to watch such films? Then what about Spielberg and Bergman. Although critics of Orientalism ( see for details http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orientalism) substantiate their claims with archival sources, their arguments are somewhat generalized. They belittle the ability of an artist to pick up parochial experiences and to universalize them. It is this universality of experiences and feelings artistically recreated that determines the success or otherwise of a film.
Kim Ki Duk, who is making an epoch in the South Korean cinema, takes a dig at the critics of orientalism in 3-cage Iron ( see for summary http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/3-Iron) a film as eccentric as its director. Kim says that a genuine artist will be able to understand the full gamut of popular psychosis. If this psychosis is common the world over, why need oriental fantasy alone determine the artist’s success? Through the craft an artist uses, he or she can identify with a common artistic experience.

Watching Kim is part of this identification. Like a chemist he knows all the equations of film making. But like a real scientist, equations already set don’t endear him. He is searching for newer and newer combinations to invent an entirely different aesthetics.

Take for instance his masterpiece, Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter……..Spring ( see for summary-http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spring,_Summer,_Autumn,_Winter..._and_Spring ). The audience watching the movie will be transposed to a landscape, which is a reality and a fantastic dream all the same. Whatever one has read of Zen Buddhism is there in vivid details. The world of sublime spirituality marked by visuals and color is set in the backdrop of silence and unadulterated music of nature.
The film does not have a complex storyline. Story lines, more often than not, do damage to the effect that a film has on us. We will have to pitch characters and events against one another, which should directly lead to a climax and then to a catastrophe. But in Spring Summer it is not the forced difference that set tunes to the visual background and interactions of characters, but a symphony.
The symphony has been retained from the beginning to the end of the film. Even when the old monk finds his disciple sleeping with the girl, he thinks it’s quite natural for the two to have sex. Because what they did is part of a landscape which knows no differences. The film is all about growth. The growth of nature and perceptions. Finally the film becomes a statement of the growth of personality in harmony with the seasonal change.
If a film is made based merely on its entertainment value, the director needs to have value judgment on the events and characters at times. He or she should always change the way a story is told or the characters behave. But Kim does not make a value judgment of the kind. He rather observes and invites us to observe the way the film progresses. It is much the same way as Sun-hwa observes Tae-suk intruding to her house in 3-iron. She learns, one by one, how he cooks food, has a bath, house keeps, and finally masturbates staring at her naked photographs. Cinema is a medium of learning a culture, silently observing and internalizing its nuances.

So, what’s the pattern of South Koran culture we can learn from Kim’s movies? There are Buddhist spirituality and its simple philosophy of life, gardening and tea-making, Koran hospitality and martial arts and independent sexuality or sexual liberation( even school girls have no qualms to sell their bodies to find money for a trip) and political assertion much in protest against the hegemonic overreach of the world police. We find all these cultural symbols brilliantly encoded in the film.
Kim’s films are three in number. The classification is not arbitrary but the one done by Kim himself through the non-thematic sub-titles in the 3-iron. First there are close-up films which delineate the intrinsic aspect of human mind as they are best understood from the face. Secondly there are mid-shot films, in which the characters interact in the social context. Thirdly there are long-shot films in which the characters are part of the landscape.
It is through the long shot films that Kim as an artist declares independence. For, in such films social inhibitions and censoring don’t dictate terms to the life of the characters. When man is forced to abandon landscapes to coop up in closets, he has to obey certain regulations that have the authorization of religions. Sex, for example, is monitored by Yeo-jin in Samaritan, the Tale of Revenge,(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samaritan_Girl) where it is carried out in perfect harmony with the music of water in Spring, Summer. The father of Jae-yeong has to teach his daughter’s companions, often violently, the value and sanctity of sex, where as it’s quite natural according to the chief monk.
It may be because of this artistic independence that Kim is best known for his landscape films. It is also part of his country's political assertion.

The Portrait of a Journalist as a Young Man

When I decided to quit as a lecturer, some of my friends advised me not to do so. And when I came down in favour of journalism, the advisors increased in number. I was instantly compared to the warrior king in a medieval Persian tale who was tantalized by a goblin to his cave, offering potential luxuries. Later the foolhardy king was desiccated in cold blood.
Now it’s almost two months since I have entered the cave. Have my dreams shattered? Have my expectations dissolved in the thin air? Is the goblin’s laughter reverberating within the four walls of the legendary Goenka’s sanctum sanctorum?
Only my well-wishers can answer these questions. I, as is my wont, am prone to analysis:
Since camaraderie was built into the contours of teaching profession, I always felt that I was working within a community. After all, I was not sitting in front a computer whose nerves have never circulated blood.
Having the eyes of around 20 students glued on to your face, your mannerisms, gesticulations and all means you should have something within you for others to depend. If you lack it, you should try to have it, updating yourself all the same. When someone becomes a teacher, he/she inks an invisible deal with a group of students. A trust, which, if you break, will take you to perdition. Hold onto it, it will establish you as a source of light for many.
But being established is the only downside of this holy profession. It is more like a way of life. You will be floating in a stream, whose depth has been vastly reduced by the sedimentation of syllabi and curricular requirements. You will be trapped in the dangerous vortex of an overhanging university.
Nevertheless, journalism in India is more established and more politically motivated. At a time when boundaries blur and cultural isolation is more or less a thing of past, media can’t be as free as they boast. The taste of readers is all that sets the agenda of Indian journalism. It’s the four F’s, as Kushwanth Singh rightly observes, that bring bucks to a journalist’s pocket: frolic, film, fashion and fabrication.
As far as my two month’s experience in TNE is concerned, there does not seem to be much I can contribute to the profession. Packing news items with glittering and colorful trappings is what sub-editing is all about. What matters is the pace at which you design the pages to the imaginary satisfaction of a group of readers to whom newspaper is a nothing more than a necessary nuisance.
Still, the volcano of experience is getting fierce. It is coming close to eruption, when the readers, if any, can pick up something valuable. Then I won’t be a mechanical editor. But a journalist as free as he should be.

Many returns

It is only a matter of days for me to wake up to March 3, two days before I become 26. Why is the date more important to me than the one 'officially' declared as my date-of-birth. Let this posting be a brief comment thereon.

9.00 a.m., 2005

A still, but pensive morn. Under the protective shade of mahogany on the campus of T K M C A S, I was sitting engrossed in some reflections. A cool breeze patted on my cheek and the twittering of a lapwing lent lyrics to my melodramatic musings. It was in this spiritual setting that Asha made an unexpected intrusion.

Asha was my soul mate until she belonged to someone else. Love has remained unexpressed in my life throughout. Far be it from me to understand that love unexpressed is like the money unspent. Both will cause some opportunities to slip through our fingers.

"Why are you sitting here for such a long time, Shameer. Don't you know that the lecture has begun."

Asha's words, spoken in a louder tone, brought me back from my reveries. I got up and accompanied her to the classroom on the second floor. On the way, she threw several questions to me. About the project I was going to do, the book I was reading and the movie I had just watched. We walked taking non-stop till we reached our dreary destination.

10.00 a.m.

It was a practical session of a media class. Prof. Unnikrishna Panicker ('UK' as he is popularly called) was explaining the differences between the print and Internet versions of a newspaper. In a crisp language sprinkled with humour, he was going through the topographical details of a web page and its difference from the 'grand old lady'( connotation for broadsheet)

In the process, he googled into the site of The Times of India. While explaining in detail the peculiarities of the site, his eyes got struck on the horoscope box ('horrorscope' as it was humorously called).

To cheer us up, he wanted us to tell him the names of our stars. All of a sudden, some curious names reverberated in the hall. All but me knew the names of their stars. So, I was really confused, when all others were waiting for my reply. Divining that I had little sense of what the star business was all about, UK asked me when I was born.

"3 3 1982*", I replied.

"Oh, what a surprise", he exclaimed.

Then breaking his words in the middle, he lapsed into reflections. Then he began reading what The Times of India had to predict on my future.

* Actually my date of birth being in the third month of the year, I confused the 3rd month with the day. Little did I think that I need to correct my mistake.

2.00 p.m.

Back to the classroom after lunch. I was surprised to see the seats vacant. A few minutes later, my classmates entered the room, holding a bright, if not a bit mischievous, smiles on their lips.

"Why are you all smiling?", I asked.

They shrugged their shoulders, indicating that smile is not at all a supernatural phenomenon.

But in an M.A class, where things are always tense and strained because of the hot debates and anxieties centered around the deadline of an assignment, smile is a rarity.

But I did not smell a rat there.

3.00 p.m

A few minutes after a jargon-studded lecture on subaltern aesthetics, somebody prodded me on my back. I turned back. It was Sabitha.

"Shameer, there is a surprise for you in the next classroom."

"Surprise? what surprise"

" what will you feel if someone you love is waiting for you there?"

Instantly I looked for Asha. Oh, my God she is just behind me. Then who is waiting for me there?

3.25 p.m

A classroom. Closed on all sides like an abandoned house. There is someone whom I love and who loves me.

I broke the door open, took some steps ahead.

...................

There was a surprise which later turned out to become an event-breaking mark in my life.

There was a cake upon a table, surrounded by some radiant candlesticks.

On the blackboard, it was written in Asha's hand( I am familiar with her character) :

many returns of the day

But that day has never returned.

That was the only birthday celebration in my eventless life since 1982.

A birthday celebrated by mistake.

But some mistakes are far better than what is downright accurate.

Rain : a mischevious bedmate

A few days back. I was triying to wade through sleeplessness. Books are at a hand's distance. But none of them was not able to tire my eyes. There was a musical concert on air. But my radio set was so running out of power that if I had switched it on, it would have jerked to a noisy halt, forcing others to wake up. I lay on and on. Like a bottled Jinn.
Then it rained. The cool breeze, intruding through the broken window panes, trickled my eyelids. Wet my lips. And, like a vampire, forced me to mindlessly come out of room. There i had a strange communion with rain. It was like finding someone, while being desperate to find one. Finally we slept together on terrace.
Since real incidents don't necessarily have a climax, i conclude here. But let it be a beginning. I will be back with many postings.