Tomichan Matheikal's blog

Empires have always tried to amalgamate small cultures into a big one.   The amalgamation has many benefits.   The most obvious benefit is the ease in governance .   It becomes much easier to govern when there is one code of law, one set of customs, one language, one religion, and so on.   Legitimacy is another important benefit. Most empires throughout history have claimed legitimacy for their amalgamation of small cultures by claiming that the conquered people benefit by the process of amalgamation.   The claim was not entirely wrong either.   For example, when many Indians accepted the Islamic or the British cultures they were certainly looking for their own benefits.   Many of the British contributions continue to dominate the Indian culture even today.   Most Indian men, for example, wear western trousers and western suits even when they preach aggressively the superiority of the Indian culture.   English, which is the most common link language in the country, is anot

Fiction Vultures descended on the kingdom.   People had started dying of hunger and thirst.   There was no water anywhere.   Aridity stared at us from what were rivers and lakes until a few months back.   The nudity of the rivers and lakes encroached upon our consciousness like bloodsucking vampires.   It sucked life out of us. “Anga needs a saviour,” King Romapada lamented.   My mother listened to him sympathetically.   “We need a beautiful young maiden to go the forest and…,” he paused a while as if to clear his throat, “… and seduce Rishisringa.” Rishisringa was a young ascetic living in the forest with his father Vibhandak Rishi.   He was himself an offspring of seduction.   None other than god Indra had sent Urvasi, the enchanting celestial dancer, to tempt Vibhandak away from his ascetic vow of chastity. The gods were jealous of the spiritual powers Vibhandak was accruing from his chastity and austerity.   The gods are strange creatures.   They have everyt

Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is rapped by clamour Of self-appointed guardians of morality and culture; Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets, Blackened with clotted blood Of insidious intent. These streets used to be crowded With people and cattle and dogs And longings in hearts. Now slogans have displaced longings And also some of the people. We have created enemies For the sustenance of our arid hearts. The cooing of pigeons hangs heavily in the loaded air, We are in a country where the cattle are deity, That thirst for human blood: History’s way of avenging itself. Don’t worry, history is a ghost that will haunt Wherever you may choose to hide yourself. No escape, no redemption, no hope. But I’ll be with you till the end. What began with a bang will end in a whimper. I’ll be there with you, with the whimper. That’s my love. My helpless love.