The crow in my mother's home

It is one o'clock in the afternoon in the month of May at Chennai. The curtains are drawn, the interiors dark and the fan whirls violently. Through the parting in the curtain, all you see is a dazzle. It is "katri", the fiercest part of the Chennai summer when no man or beast or even a leaf can stir.

However, we are wrong. The stillness of the afternoon is punctured by a raucous caw- once, twice and a few more times in quick succession. It is earnest, demanding- sufficient to wake up the entire household. Gingerly, I open the kitchen door leading to the service-room balcony, and the crow is there- sitting on the little ledge. I look at him; he looks back at me. It is a curious stare- as though he is sizing me up. He is used to seeing my mother and glares at me with distrust. Seeing no progress in the proceedings, he expresses his intent once more with a rasping set of caws. He needs his lunch...and now!

I unpack the half-eaten sandwich from my morning Shatabdhi train-ride. With the bread in hand, I stretch out to feed him. An unfamiliar hand with unfamiliar food- with a sudden flutter, he hurriedly shifts to the clothesline a meter away. From the new vantage point, he scrutinizes my face suspiciously and then at the bread slice. I back off. He alights onto the ledge with the sandwich at his feet. One sniff and he stops. The disappointment is writ on his face. He lets out a back-to-back volley of caws. As if, this stale bread-slice is not what he ordered for lunch. Not to be browbeaten by a crow, I slam the balcony door and move away.

Crows are persistent creatures. They can pester us with the same tenacity as your four-year old, till you eventually give-up and yield to their tantrums. That is their game plan. From the service veranda, he now flies to the main balcony and makes his demand once more. Shooing off a crow is as wasteful as a swish of the hand against a squealing mosquito by the ear. Within minutes, they are back and irritate us even more.

My mum is now awake. The moment she enters the kitchen, he spots her and swiftly flies back to the ledge. Mother takes a ball of fresh rice, mixes it with curd, a dash of salt and tops it with another sumptuous dollop of curd. As my mum extends her hand onto the ledge, he simply waits...a centimeter away. Total trust and not one flutter. He sniffs; watches the curd dripping off the rice-ball in tiny rivulets and he is satisfied.
"Yes, he comes thrice a day, for breakfast, lunch and tea. He does not like your bread and your dry roti. He is also a Tamilian, and like the rest of us, he needs curd-rice for all meals. When we go on vacation, he suffers. Who will feed him?" mother trails away.

In no time, the crow has cleaned up the curd-rice. A few stains of white curd glint on his jet-black beak. He looks at me and again at my mum. The next minute, he picks the sandwich by the beak and nonchalantly throws it off the edge of the ledge, cranes his neck and watches it tumbling down. He has made his point. He lets out a final caw of delight and flies away. He will be back for his next meal.

Crows are scavengers, with no choosy tastes- so we think. However, my mother is certain. This crow is definitely our ancestor, a total foodie, known for his "long tongue" and over-refined sense of taste. A man of exacting demands- one grain of salt less or more, he would throw a fit and bring down the entire house. Each time he scooped up curd-rice from the banana-leaf, the overflowing relish was registered in his eyes. And when he licked off the last trickling droplets of buttermilk from his palm, it was as if, he was in the seventh-heaven! This crow has to be him. My mother is so sure.

From BC to AC

As with any topic, there are always people at both ends of the spectrum. The Corona crisis is no exception. At one end are the staunch believers, who latch onto every bit of detail and take preparation and precaution to an extreme. At the other end are the equally vehement non-believers who assert that there is a greater probability of being knocked down while walking on a footpath than being struck by Corona. In this tug-of-war, much like the proverbial eternal tussle between the Devas and Asuras, it is tough to find a meeting point. In fact, the believers want no meeting point, for it dilutes their message of social distancing.

Another problem peculiar to the Corona crisis is that we cannot have divergent opinions co-exist in the spirit of tolerance, as we do with any sticky-topic. Here, the believers have no choice but to convert the non-believers into believers, else the survival of both is in question. There is no possibility of walking away from a non-believer with a “you can go to hell” taunt. Here, the worry is, together they may land up in the same place! Hence the need to deal with this crisis with utmost sensitivity. We have to take everyone together, even the ones we detest most! For sure, at the end of the crisis, we will be filled with the milk of human-kindness. 

It is easy for social media to remind us that we need to wash our hands for 30 seconds and as often as possible. The messaging cannot be faulted. However, there are practical problems. Consider a place like Chennai that is plagued with water scarcity for most part of the year. At the rate people are washing their hands these days, the lakes will be bone-dry in less than a month and Corona may still be around. Moreover, we are not even mentioning the word “Kaveri water”. Our country is too complicated to implement any simplistic, over-the-top solution.

When we scour the neighborhood, all we see are masked men and women. That is the need of the hour all right. We wave at someone with all enthusiasm, and find absolutely no response. We get offended. Once the form comes to close quarters, we peer into those puzzled eyes and find it is someone entirely different! In this new guise, everyone looks alike- as if we suddenly landed in Kishkinda inhabited by a bunch of Vaanaras minus the tail. Another problem with the mask is the necessity to speak with it. Of course, in Corona times, we do not expect anyone to speak, but sometimes, there is a need. We cannot make head or tail of what anyone is talking. It is as though they are mumbling through a tunnel or resembling a sound bite with its speed altered. There is no point trying to decipher. We know the topic is about Corona; we simply nod and move on.  

“Don’t touch your face”- any negative messaging such as this, is doomed to fail. The unruly schoolboy in us immediately surfaces. “Don’t copy, don’t drink water, don’t go to the toilet, don’t talk”- the more we hear this, the more the body fidgets to do exactly that. That is how we are wired. We cannot help it. It is only when we have mehndi in both hands, that the nose twitches or the eyes feel scratchy. We just have to scratch. In Corona times, I cannot scratch my face; you cannot scratch for me- we feel so terribly paralyzed.  

Fashion is sure to be altered during these Corona times. Jeans will soon be out of vogue. We envisage that Kathakali skirts will replace them, for both men and women- skirts that are bulbous enough to ensure that no one comes too close for comfort. We look forward to the next innovation or desi-jugaad to ensure that we can mount two-wheelers and cars and still have the Kathakali skirts on!

As far as Bollywood is concerned, they are sure to latch onto the Corona topic. We look forward to blockbusters like “Corona Pyar Hai” (CPH) with situations surrounding the Corona scare. Songs such as “Hum tum ek kamre mein bandh ho” will need a novel re-interpretation to fit in with the new social distancing norms. The censor board can fold up. These folks can pack up their bags and opt for an alternate career since no one is coming anywhere close to anyone! We miss Ajit in these times. He would have had a field day and packed the movie with apt one-liners. “Mona darling, tum naa rona, naa rona, naam hai mera Coronaa!!” 
Corona is sure to alter the world irrevocably- how we were in BC- Before Corona and how we are in AC- After Corona! 

"Quarantime"

One of the earliest accounts of a quarantined life is the story related to King Parikshit. He was cursed to die of a snake-bite in 7 days. He quarantined himself for the period to try and escape from his imminent death. Parikshit's actions as documented in the Mahabharata and the Bhagavata Purana make interesting reading.

We learn valuable lessons on how the king spent his quarantined time. He focused all his attention on only two fronts: to seclude himself in a palace built atop a tower so that there would be only a single point of entry and to learn the Eternal Truth of life from the sage Shuka. On the 7th day, a snake converted itself into a tiny worm and entered a fruit. The sentries did not suspect the fruit. The king bit into the fruit- the snake struck him and he died. But by then, King Parikshit had successfully discovered the Truth of life and had made the best possible use of his quarantined existence.

 

 Today, faced with a  Corona call to quarantine ourselves, we get vexed. It is as if time hangs heavy and we know not what to do. May be, we lack King Parikshit's maturity to pursue such a lofty goal. But we can definitely do better.

As the author of the Panchatantra  says- "kaavya shastra vinodena, kaalo gacchati dhimataam" - the wise spend their time revelling in the beauty of literary works and enriching their scientific knowledge. Our shelves are filled with books we intended to read some day, but never got the time. Now is a golden opportunity to curl up the entire afternoon with one such favourite book.

 

In the rut of everyday life, many of our hobbies have gathered rust. They fell by the wayside. Now is the time to pick up that paint-brush, that knitting needle, that old violin, that guitar languishing in the garage. Now is the time to pick up the phone and make those phone calls we planned to, but never did- to a long lost friend, to that second-cousin, to that distant aunt...and hear their forgotten voices once more. 
If not anything, we can simply look out of the window. "What is this life if full of care, we have no time to stand and stare, no time to stand beneath the boughs and stare as long as sheep and cows"- the poet William Henry Davies asks. We simply watch the day going past...the redness of the early morning, the blazing afternoon sun, the tranquility of the twilight hour, the gathering darkness and the twinkle of the multitudinous stars. The crow caws, the pigeon flits across, the butterfly flirts amongst the bushes and a monkey stealthily climbs the water-pipe. It is all alive and happening out there. Our eyes miss the obvious.

 

We often complained that life is too stereotypical and boring- the same dull faces, the same old food, the same old homework, the same old news as a yesteryear advertisement said. Someone heard our call and has changed the tempo! It's as if we were walking on the treadmill for too long at a languid pace. Through the Corona storm, someone cranked up the speed by several notches! We lurch this way and that, but for sure, we will have to get used to the new pace, the new norm. We complained that the movie was too boring. Someone heard our call and jerked the movie-plot after the intermission. It looked like a comic film till this point, but now, suddenly, has the tell-tale signs of a horror film! We learn to enjoy this too, sitting at the edge of the seat and biting our nails in feverish excitement. "Picture to ab baaki hai!"

As Manna Dey sings from the classic  film "Anand"- Zindagi...kaisi hai paheli..haay...kabhi to hasaaye...kabhi yeh rulaaye".

In these exacting times, we appreciate the eternal mystery of life, that makes the gurgle of laughter possible on one day, and on another day, makes us wail in helplessness.

Such is life.

One Universal Body...in Corona times

Adversity is a great teacher. Years ago, it took a tsunami to tell us how inextricably connected we are. An earthquake thousands of kilometers away, and of all places, one fateful morning, in Chennai, we woke up to giant waves sweeping over our Marina Beach. It was simply unbelievable. We read about the Butterfly Effect then- how a miniscule flutter in some corner of the globe leaves its indelible impact everywhere. It is as if the world is one giant tapestry- tug at the end of a single thread and you can unravel the entire fabric threadbare!


The Corona virus conveys this reality, albeit in a deadly way. It does not matter where we are: The Bondi Beach in Australia, T-Nagar in Chennai or the Bay Area in California. It is as if...we are in this crisis together regardless of race, religion, color, economic affluence or the lack of it. It is a humbling experience, a leveler and a reality check for everyone.


In our tradition, we have the vision of the universe as one organic whole. The way-side pebble to the giant mountain, the tender sapling to the Redwood Tree, the dewdrop to the ocean, the microbe to the blue-whale, the star to the galaxy, the amoeba to the human being...all of us exist as different cells, as varied body parts of this "live" Universal Being. Wordsworth expresses the same when he says- To see a World in a Grain of Sand, And a Heaven in a Wild Flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand, And Eternity in an hour. It is as if, the body-parts may vary- in shape, size and function, but all of us exist in the Being, for the Being, and as the Being.


We are aware how our being reacts to indigestion. The stomach triggers off a violent response at both ends...we suffer a bout of vomiting or the toxin is simply purged off. Global upheavals like what we are facing are much like this. It is as if the Universal Body is crying and recalibrating itself after some such indigestion. We have no choice but to rest and nurse this sick body back to health. In doing so, all the steps are important- identifying the pathogen which led to this condition, and while we suffer, we follow First-Aid, immediate medical treatment as well as a long term recuperation plan. Now is the time to pause and mother this Global Body.


Sometimes, during mealtime, the teeth bite the tongue accidently. The whole body winces in pain. But never for a moment do the hands attempt to knock the teeth off for its carelessness. The entire body comes to instant rescue. The eyes well up with tears and the hands come together to massage the affected area with tenderness. The reaction is one of complete care with no attempt at fault finding.
This phenomenon caused by the Corona virus is similar-  as if we have inadvertently bitten our tongue and a lot more. The planet is in pain. As different organs of the same body, we come together to soothe the body politic in the same spirit of empathy. We live and die together, as one global family- jeena marna sabke sung.


A small stone thrown in the middle of a pond...results in increasing concentric rings of ripples...that wash up to the shore. It is as if every droplet of the entire pond tingles with that impulse. If we cannot do anything meaningful to help the planet from this Corona wave, at least we can fill the world with our sincere thoughts for universal well being. Positive thoughts are like the little stone- they appear too tiny to have any value at all. We are mistaken. When such thoughts are flung into the world at large, these positive thoughts travel till the edges of the globe and touch each being and wrap them up with a cloak of compassion and love. We pray with an expanded heart- may all "bipeds" enjoy happiness..."shanno astu dvipadey"- from the bat and the penguin to the chimp and man. May that wellness be felt even by quadrupeds "shan  chatushpadey"- from the dog and the tiger to the cow.
The Corona virus has taught us an important lesson- wellness and development in pockets is a recipe for disaster. It is like pampering the heart and keeping it healthy while allowing pus to fester in the toe. Our sense of belonging has to cover the entire creation to the minutest detail. We can forget this message at our own peril.

Dealing with the certainty of uncertainty

If the last few weeks are any indication, it is going to be a long haul in the fight against the Corona virus. Initially, it looked like someone else's problem, and if at all we empathized with it, it was with the casual objectivity reserved for a stray piece of news in the newspaper. Not anymore. It has reached our doorstep, sending us into a panic overdrive. Media, both social and the non-social, paints a depressing picture and we wake up to pictures of empty roads and vacant malls, more health check queues and more masked citizens. In living memory, we do not recall any disease that assumed such pandemic proportions so much so that there is no safe zone anywhere on this planet. Will we win the war against this virus? What price will we pay? How long will this uncertainty continue? There are no easy answers.


Like Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle that postulates an element of uncertainty at the level of the microcosm, so too, uncertainty has always riddled the macrocosm. It is our lot. Mankind has had to battle with uncertainty- be it in the form of drought and famine, or the unsettling times caused by diseases like plague and war. While the advances in Science have given us a semblance of control, it appears as if we have only substituted one set of triggers with another. Corona virus is just the latest trigger. We can never solve all the problems out there and then find the requisite mental composure. The emotional strength to deal with uncertainty has to be found in and through all the problems that buffet me and the world at large.


Once in Persia, reigned a king, who upon a signet ring, carved a maxim strange and wise. It gave him wisdom at a glance, fit for any change and chance. Solemn words and these were they- "Even this will pass away!" This is a powerful technique to fortify ourselves. If we look at our past, our fears have been mostly unfounded. Be it the fear of exams or the fear when we boarded a plane, nothing untoward happened and we are still around, safe and sound to read this article! The most traumatic time which seemed unsurmountable then, is now a memory. Even this Corona virus will pass away!

"Subhashitas" offer excellent, common-place verses to strengthen ourselves through auto-suggestion. One of them goes as follows- "Let the sky fall (patatu nabhah), let the mountains explode, let the ocean swell and engulf us, let the whole world topple over, so what?" It ends with the question "kaa haani"...so what? It is as if we thumb the nose at the world at large, regardless of the challenges it throws at us. Through deliberate auto-suggestion, we pump our self-confidence to deal with the situation. As they say, the tough get going when the going gets tough!

For a world which functions with such order, be it the planetary order, or the physiological order or psychological order, there has to be a Higher Principle which maintains the order. We surrender to that Ordainer and thereby relieve our self of the needless pressure to set the world right! We relax and allow the Higher Principle to work its way. Ours is not to question why, ours is but to do and die. We do our bit in the scheme of things sincerely, just like a tiny cog in the wheel of life.


The Lord appeared before the devotee who suffered from Elephantiasis. "I am pleased with your penance. What boon do you seek?" The devotee replied- "Can you move the elephantiasis from the left foot to the right foot so that it is a little easier for me?" This conversation hits it on the nail. We are never going to be completely free from all problems. That is wishful thinking. We pray to increase our level of endurance to accept challenges and find a manageable solution.

Even nursery rhymes offer words of wisdom. "Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream; merrily merrily merrily, life is but a dream!" We learn to take life not too seriously so that it chokes us. We relate to it with a certain space and objectivity, and through that, find that necessary cushion.

Finally, few can say it better than Shakespeare. From the green-room we came, to the green-room we will go; and while on stage, just put up a good show! "All the world's a stage and men and women merely players! Glad till the dancing stops, and the lilt of the music ends.
Laugh till the game is played; and be you merry, my friends!"

 

Holi- timeless message in testing times

The greys of winter make way for the riotous colours of spring. Holi, the festival of colours heralds this transition. Perhaps, this transition is more striking in the northern part of the country, making the festival more popular in the North.

These are testing times for the nation. Communities which lived in amity clashed and left behind a trail of destruction. An edgy feeling hangs in the air, fuelled by distrust and a sense of alienation between communities. What does Holi mean in these troubled times? Does it have a message for us? As we turn the pages of history, we rest upon Saint Kabir. It is as if he is living in our times and speaks to Hindus and Muslims once more...through the colours of Holi.

Of all the colours used in Holi, the predominant colour is red- the red of "gulaal". We colour each other’s body red during Holi. Saint Kabir's lines come to mind. He says we are born with a body that is like a piece of cloth- a "chadariya"- a cloth that is plain and drab. We take this cloth to the dyer for colouring, for embellishment. The dyer is none other than the teacher, the guru- the person who converts the animal-man in us to a man-man! The guru's teaching colours the body-fabric a full red- "laalo laal kar deeni chadariya". Red is the colour of love. Gone is our narrow, individualistic outlook. We expand our vision and exude that message of love for one and all. Holi symbolizes this attitude.
As we smear gulaal on each other during Holi, happiness is in the air and we literally paint the whole town red! Men and women, young and old...everyone is totally indistinguishable, their faces caked with gulaal. The differences vanish: near and dear ones and absolute strangers, everyone looks alike as seen through tinted-glass spectacles. The whole world is one splash of red!
Red is also the colour of fire- the colour of light and the colour of knowledge. It is as if the gulaal reminds us of that supreme knowledge, that ultimately, there is no "other"- both the self and the world outside are coloured much the same.
Such is the lofty message of Holi even as we playfully squirt water and take impish delight to chase down our next victim and douse him with a generous fistful of gulaal!

It is fitting that we remember Saint Kabir in these communally charged times. His poems are replete with the message of oneness. How did we forget Kabir?  It is ironical that almost 400 years after his time, we continue to be at each other’s throats. It is painful.
But there is hope. Every Holi brings with it that hope- that we will reach out to not just our neighbours and friends...but more so, with the colours of friendship cutting across
communities.

Holi has its favourite quote- "Don't be upset, it is after all Holi!" ("bura mat mano, Holi hai"). Behind this simplistic line is an apt message, more relevant in these strained times. Holi is a free-for-all festival. A stranger walking on the road, in his spotless, new shirt can be caught in a barrage of water-balloons from the building-terrace! He is naturally upset as he tries to recover from the sudden shock of finding himself dripping wet! He runs after the balloon-pelter and is on the verge of punching him, when the pelter blurts out- "bura mat mano, Holi hai!" That sentence works like magic. The hand that raised the taut fist falls limp. Both look at each other in the eye, smile and move on! That is Holi- the ability to forgive, forget and smile despite provocation.

We hope this Holi, if we pelt from the building top, it will be only water-balloons and that too on passers-by who share the same sense of fun. If we arm our self with a 'lathi', it will be a mock-beating- as wives do to husbands during "lathmar holi". If we have a finger on the trigger, it will be a water-gun with sufficient range to drench our friend in a playful flood of water.
If it appears we have blood on our hands, it is but the redness of "gulaal", the redness of a compassionate heart and the redness of universal love.
Into that heaven of Holi, my Father, let my country awake!