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Terrible Beauty

Photo by Tomichan Matheikal at Jim Corbett National Park (some years ago) “A terrible beauty is born,” lamented poet W. B. Yeats when the Irish rebellion against the British in 1916 was suppressed brutally by the Empire. Though Yeats supported the independence movement, like all enlightened souls he was against violence. When the fighters insisted on using violence, Yeats could only pass by “with a nod of the head / Or polite meaningless words.” Many people including me in Modi’s India find themselves in Yeats’ position: incapacitated by mindless violence and hatred. In spite of the totally vitiated atmosphere, a formidably sizeable section of the country seem to be labouring under a monstrous delusion that they are living in a beautiful period of the country’s history. It is a terrible beauty indeed! Someone like Shashi Tharoor cannot even express his opinion by making a metaphorical comparison about that terrible beauty. His office was attacked a criminal case was ch

My Lime Tree

My lime tree Lime has multiple uses. You can make a rejuvenating drink with a little bit of its juice. A few drops of the juice can flavour your tea delightfully and ease your belly too. Even the otherwise bland dishes or the daal curry can undergo a miraculous metamorphosis with a touch of lime. You can use a slice of the fruit to deodorise your plate or your hands.    When the hybrid plant seller came last year with a variety of saplings, I picked up a few including a lime. The lime was a little slow to get to like me. I watered it regularly and fed it with liberal scoops of cow dung and occasional pinches of Ammonium Phosphate Sulphate.    “Hybrid plants take their sweet time to get used to new soil and environment,” my friend consoled me. “But once they do, they flourish.”    He was right. After months of my patient waiting and tender care, my lime tree began to grow. But the main stem grew up aslant at an angle of 45 o . It looked nice to see but I was worried

Love’s complexion and complexity

Book Review Anshu Bhojnagarwala’s Tara is a fast-paced novella which deals with the themes of love and self-actualisation. Tara is a scrawny, dark-complexioned creature of just 2.2 kg when she is born. In spite of having affectionate and supportive parents, Tara grows up to inherit a complex about her dark skin, thanks to a society that sets much store by fairness creams. She faces some rejection from individuals whom she tries to befriend. As a young woman, Tara wants to marry and be a mother but is not able to find a suitor, again, due to her complexion. Then she gives up the chase and becomes a teacher. Himanshu walks into her life as the guardian of a student. Love happens. Tara discovers romance but only to be soon disappointed. Himanshu disappears. Eventually she discovers that he has reached the dream world of London where he forges a new alliance. That is an unnerving rejection for Tara. Tara is practical enough to get on with life. She agrees to the arranged

Me-time

One of the parents who met me today during the Parent-Teacher Meeting at school told me, “My daughter is your fan. She often wonders how a teacher can be so innocent like you.” I was too stunned to respond. Just yesterday I mentioned in another class that I was blessed to have such innocent students. My initial fear when I came from Delhi three years ago and perceived such innocent students in my present school in a small town in Kerala was whether I would corrupt them with the craftiness that Delhi had taught me as an integral part of the survival game we played normally in Delhi. One of the lessons I learnt even before I took up my teaching job in Delhi in 2001 was to stay away from people as far as possible. Shillong taught me that lesson, in fact. That’s the only place where I ventured out into the society at least to some extent. I turned out to be an utter failure. Shillong was my undoing. It was inevitable, perhaps. I needed to learn the lessons that the little hill

I support Shashi Tharoor

Sambit Patra is the best comic entertainer in contemporary Indian politics after Narendra Modi. He is like a clown on the trapeze while Modi behaves like the ringmaster. I love both of them for the entertainment they provide to the nation. But they do a lot of disservice to the nation. Arrey bhai, the people elected you to serve them. Do you know that we are still a democracy? The ultimate power is with the people. They can throw you out next year if you still keep barking and biting like stray dogs. All that religious stuff you’re peddling won’t do any good. What does Ram Mandir or Patel Statue mean to the man on the street who is struggling to earn his daily bread? Sambit Patra is a joy to watch on the TV when you have nothing else to do. He is the re-avatar of Gau-Swami who shouted at all of us for a long time on sell-out Times Now. Like the Cow-Swami, Sam-bit will get his boot soon. I’ll miss his trapeze art then. Like his demand to the Congress to dismiss Dr Shashi

Beauty and Youth

Beauty is young - always! One of my favourite writers, Franz Kafka, said that the young people are happy because they have the ability to see beauty. “Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old,” he added. I was always an admirer of beauty. The only problem was that some self-appointed custodians of morality, during my youth, thought that my concept of beauty was too gynocentric and hence sinful. Like most members of their species, these custodians were very religious people. Moreover, in my case, they happened to be all Christians. Woman is a perversion, according to Christian theology. She was the cause of mankind’s eviction from the biblical Paradise. Even centuries could not wash away her guilt and so Saint Paul would advise Timothy (2:12) never to let a woman teach or have authority over a man. “She must be silent.” Nothing less. My admiration of feminine beauty was associated with my own perversions by the moralists in my life. I don’t deny th

Religion and Cruelty

Pillar in Vellore Fort commemorating the Revolt Image from Wikipedia Today is the anniversary of the Vellore Mutiny which took place on 10 July 1806 when the Indian soldiers ( sepoys ) revolted against the East India Company for imposing certain rules that the Hindus as well as Muslims did not like. The Hindus were prohibited from wearing religious marks on their foreheads and Muslims were required to shave their beards and trim their moustaches. The turban was replaced with a hat which the soldiers identified with Christianity. The soldiers would certainly have looked smart and trim with the changes, which indeed was the purpose. But religion, like popular condoms, is extra-sensitive, and tickles too many tissues and issues. Half a century later, a bigger revolt of the same nature would be triggered by very similar reasons in Meerut. Mindless violence followed the revolt in Vellore. The rebels killed 14 of their own officers and 115 men of their regiment. The revolt