Flood in the River Kosi Region

I had thought it to be the ordinary flood during monsoon and gave my usual contribution to flood relief at VT station. One hears of floods in the Gangetic Plain from the great river in spate. I didn’t know the truth was something else until I read World Wide Help blog which is doing exemplary work in this unfortunate calamity.

It seems river Kosi has changed course as the enclosed photograph will show and flown away whole villages. This is unprecedented and a result of the melting glaciers of the Himalayas. In this case what has happened is whole villages and districts have been affected and people are at a loss to understand what happened. So please help whoever is in asking you for donations, because some of it will ultimately reach the people who need it.

Sorry for Sounding Negetive and All That...

Most people think they are great writers, but can't bring themselves
to make the effort. I mean really. They have great ideas, choice of
vocabulary, vision, but when it comes to putting words on paper or
into pixels, they go blank and give up. Why? Because writing is hard
work, involving, and the worst part, absolutely the worst is going
back and editing your work.

For the past several months i have been trying to edit my poems, and
when I touch them my head starts to nod and eyes droop.

Hehe. The sort of writing I do for a living, interferes, yeah, sort of....

--
For a mobile blogging experience: http://johnpmathew.blogspot.com, for
all else: http://johnwriter.com

Of Not Forgetting One's Past...

There’s a kind of emptiness. Are there no more subjects to blog? Writing can be tiresome. Have I stopped trying to essay my thoughts, to drag things out by sheer force of will, is the runner tired and stumbling? My rankings aren’t improving, and what has been gained seems fast dissipating, disappearing into nothingness, all my dreams shattered, new goals taking their place, new priorities appearing over the horizon.

I sit for a few minutes and ponder the inevitability of being struck dumb in writing as in daily life. Many times I am struck dumb by people’s words reactions. A guy in the office floored me by some observation he made. Daily occurrences, daily recurrences of the same old thing. How do I come out of it? As some wise guy said, “That too shall pass, as the wind should after eating beans.” Hehe.

In “Sea of Poppies” I am reading the section where the girmitiyas are being taken to Mareech as bonded labourers. It’s a depressing section. I am sorry for Neel who has lost everything and is being transported as an ordinary prisoner to Mareech. And the lot of the girmitiyas (“girmit” is a corruption of “agreement” which was the paper these people signed in agreement to be taken to Mareech), isn’t very good either. Most of them are marginal people whose fields have been sold to or appropriated by the greedy Englishmen and the British East India Company that trades in opium. Neel’s entire zemindary has been appropriated by Mr. Burnham since he couldn’t repay his debt, and to add insult to injury he has been arrested for forgery and is being sent to Mareech as a common prisoner. On the way to Mareech he passes his zemindary of Rashkali and remembers his days of glory as the Raja of Rashkali.

Around twenty years ago I and my wife were sitting behind a West Indian couple of Indian origin on a trip to Agra. They were dressed in western clothes and spoke English. What surprised me was the woman’s observation, “This country is ******.” It shocked me that they should speak thusly about the country of their origin from which their forefathers had emigrated with such difficulty. It sounded rather odd that they should talk about denigrate their own ancestors who have given up all hope and went as virtual slaves to an alien country. It shocked me like the occurrence I mentioned in para two.

One should never, ever forget where one came from. I will never forget the small village of Kidangannoor where I was born and spent the first eight years of my life. It’s a beautiful place I visit it once every year – I have to – I have a house there, which I have maintained even through a stage when the need for money was overpowering. Because that’s my roots and I hope to go and live there someday. Now they say an airport is coming up next to it and the approach road will cut through the fields in front of my house. An airport will mean development, business, traffic and a lot things, besides appreciation of the value of my property. But where are the green fields I used to fish in, where I used to stand and watch the labourers plant rice?

The Situation in Orissa, Where does That Leave Us?

By far the best commentary on the ongoing atrocities against Christians in Orissa comes from MJ Akbar, the venerable journalist and columnist. Of late I have noticed that all religions have turned fundamentalists. Akbar argues that the term Fundamentalist is a misnomer as these sections of people do not adhere to the fundamental tenets of their religion but distort them to their likings. I know these are dark, depressing thoughts before the 9/11 anniversary which falls this Thursday, but I can’t help it. He points out, rightly, that Prophet Muhammad was tolerant towards Jews and other religious minorities when he was administering Medina.

When I grew up in the sixties and seventies there was a kind of grudging acceptance of one another’s cultural and religious difference. But now priests advocate some extreme measures like avoiding votive offerings given with love and avoiding any overtures of friendship with other communities, who are seen as cheats and dhokebaazs. On this my wealth-enjoying-brother Dhansukhbhai has something to say, “He lokama jara pan sense nathi. Soo fundamentalism karech? Paise kamvani vat karo ni?” These people have no sense, instead of fundamentalism they should be thinking of earning money.

An article in the same newspaper – The Times of India – states that a different slant has been given to the incidents to make it sound like a religious bigotry against Christians. The article “Why We Hate” by Atul Sethi points out that the tribals of Orissa – such as the Kandhs and Panas – have always been at loggerheads and recently issues came to a head.

Akbar argues rather forcefully that only one per cent of the people that too from fundamentalist sects that are needed to spread violence and hate. Lumpenisation will ensure that they will recruit enough mercenaries and hired goondas to see their missions accomplished. He says all this talk of genocide and religious extremism is not addressing the problem that is fueling it, that is, that people who indulge in extremism are poor and marginal.

So where do that leave us? In Rushdie’s words, a country teeming with the quarrels, quarrels about caste and religion, disagreements over colour and looks, a people so divided they can’t stop bitching about each other. Sad, but true.

Forebodings and Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan

Today was full of dark forebodings, wading through it; I had the feeling of being tired of the rat race, the feeling of really getting nowhere. Another agent wants to take a look at the novel, and I guess I have done a thousand such submissions. By now most of literary agents and literary establishments know about me and my novel, and maybe having a good laugh. But I keep making submissions as I made to this agent. Who knows someone somewhere may snap it up.

Saw Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan on television (In case you don't know, she is the cute and petite author of "You Are Here"), on Just Books to be exact, presented by Sunil Sethi with his Oxford accent, or is it Doon School? I don’t know. All I know is it is a funny accent. She seemed confident and I am happy to think that she got noticed because of her blog. That’s another published author, and I amn’t yet published. All the very best Meenakshi, hope to see you shine in the firmament of authors, you have the spunk, the verve, the guts needed to tell a story and not hide it where nobody can see it. Yes, writing a story requires guts, courage and the willingness to take scorn, fear, insult, discontent, and deep guilt.

Maybe that’s why the forebodings. But I have strengthened myself through faith, what keeps me going is a few minutes of devotion in the morning and night, the exclusive time I devote to thought of God and my saviour Jesus. Yes, I am a strong believer, and have benefited from my faith, so, no shame in saying it.

I wonder what successful people feel once they have started on their journeys to what they are committed to, what they have a missionary-like zeal for. What do they feel after floating a new party, taking a new and important position? I am all apprehension and loss, but I have to be strong, I know, I am getting there. Writers have always struggled with thoughts of impending doom.

Poet Menka Shivdasani was in the office today. She said most people can’t distinguish what is a mistake any more, and make an effort to correct or learn from it. Being the sensitive poet she is; I know she is right. An advertising agency owner, desperately looking for someone with passable English said trainees said something like this: “young writer whom I have employed said language didn’t matter as long as the ideas and the gist were conveyed. Software programs will correct mistakes.” No, software programs can’t discern a grammatical or syntax error. To illustrate: does the following sentence make sense to you?

Your collecting garbage because you just can’t see it lying their.

The entire sentence is wrong, but my software program just let it pass because it can’t make fine distinctions that a human mind can. If we are so dependent on machines to show us logic then we are in for big trouble. Just one miscommunicated word can trigger a catastrophic misunderstanding. But who cares? Writers like me put in hours of work which a reader casts aside in seconds, after a glance. Writers like me write novels and agents, editors and publishers just tucks it away into their slush pile without a second look at it. The world works thusly, and we can’t do a damn about it. The world is too money minded, crazy after money, with no patience for those who make them lose money – the losers.

Meeankshi I am proud of you, may you be successful in this competitive world of writing. May you beget many more novels and books.

Sea of Poppies, Big Boss, and Other Things

Ummm… what should I write about? Usually I have around three subjects running in circles around my brain, all of which are blogging material. Some are good, some are bad, and some are plain ugly. What ultimately emerges is unpredictable, sort of goobagly. Writing itself is unpredictable. I think about something and when it is on the pixellated screen, it is something else altogether.

I am reading “Sea of Poppies” and it occurs to me that the excruciatingly long passages given to Paulette could be the author’s (Amitav Ghosh’s) indulgence, his own way of exposition, his world view, his pettiness, his unique talent and whim as a writer. Many writers do this. I wonder why! Even Rushdie’s endless paragraphs about the inner turmoil of his protagonists are sometimes done to death. Is it a mark of their genius, I am stumped for an answer, or is it just plain indulgence? Who knows, who has answers?

That seemingly endless nonsense they call “Bigg Boss” is dragging on and on. I wonder how they could get a gangster’s girlfriend-cum-mole into a celebrity show like that. And that certain someone who is allegedly a drug addict and divorced his wife isn’t an angel either. I see Ahsan Quershi cracking under the pressure, he doesn’t belong, he is a poet who has been miscast. My heart goes out to him.

My wealth enjoying brother Dhansukhbhai is of the opinion that these days anything would do as long as there’s a name in the market. My other brother Anthonybhai is taking a little break in Goa. “Bas, market ma nam thai gaya che, pachi paisa ni paisa.” He should know. His father Dhansukhbhai (Sr.) scraped together an empire by importing second hand machinery that made oil, how I don’t know, neither did he, and look today where he is.

A few stunners from “Sea of Poppies”: “He (Zachary) took for granted that power made its bearers act in inexplicable ways.”

And another:

Paulette: “If there is anything Bethel has taught me, it is that the kindness of men comes always attached to some prix…”

Now these are deadly observations from none other than the vastly talented Amitav Ghosh. Oh, when, oh, when will I learn to write like that?

MTV - Reality Check in Order

And on MTV Veejay Cyrus (not that Cyrus who got almost pitofied in MTV Bakra) sloshes coffee over a bewildered employee, pushes a guy who is peeing in the toilet from behind. I found it very objectionable. In this country employees also have rights, and can’t be treated as doormats, competent or not. And most atrocious of all: one of his employees, a girl, says, “He is a bit mad.” A bit, madam? Excuse me?

I don’t think it is funny, no, not at all. A boss who ill treats his employees has to apologise to him/her and is not fit to be a boss. This sort of behaviour should also not be shown on national television when all age groups are watching. MTV should also apologise. I think MTV and VTV are going over the edge with their risqué styles of programming. What are they grabbing at?

And this reality television is also over the top for me. What reality are they showing, petty girls’ hostel type of bitching and back biting? Show some real stuff, take them to the jungle or a deserted island (something like “Survivors”), and ask them to survive against the capriciousness of nature. That would be more reality in my humble opinion.

Happy Ganeshotsav!

And it’s Ganapati Bappa Morya, all over again. The loud speakers are blaring aartis, Marathi songs, son is watching some cookery program on television, and in the pandemonium and general hubbub I sit and write. Ganeshotsav is being celebrated today, am at home blogging, wearing only my boxer shorts and vest, typing this, it’s mildly hot, not too hot. Don’t know where the rain has disappeared, into the clouds perhaps, the skies are a clear blue, the streets are dry, the sound of cymbals comes filtering in.

Happy Ganeshotsav to all my readers!

This Post Comes to You Via Google Chrome! It's Faster, It's Cleaner!

Am all praises for the Google browser Chrome. I am a bit overwhelmed by the cool scrolling features, the wide area I can view, the tabs, all are so cool, I would freeze here with the “Chrome” in front of me as I type this.

Wait! I have to explore this beauty further. So I will. And watch out for my detailed review in this space. Meanwhile, I am in a sort of frenzy with the lovely browsing experience to be had, oh, all ye, encumbered and fed up with Internet Explorer and Mozilla Firefox. It’s Chrome for me all the way.

Wow! Another cool feature I just discovered. You can use the address box as a Google search box too. I typed “Google Chrome” in the address box and got the results like “Phut.”

Mmmmm…. Guess there’s lots of goodies out there in this browser. Ha, ah!

Guess the Google guys are good at simplifying things and the Microsoft guys are good at complicating things. The IE 7 was so confusing I never got de-stressed from using it. Who needs IE now.

You can download Google Chrome here.

Dispose of Plastic Carefully…though There Aren't Any Bins Nearby....

On the way back from work, I eat a packet of potato chips, spiced lentil, or something to ease the churning acids inside. It’s a fifteen minute walk from the office to the railway station and I like to walk, unwinding for the day, forgetting work, and freeing myself, sort of, oh, yeah, liberating myself. How’s that?

I finish eating and hunt for a waste basket, bin of some sort, even a small kachara dabba, as it is called, would do. But for the entire stretch from office in New Marine Lines to V.T. station, there are no waste disposal systems. Oh, that means all my ranting about our having no civic sense goes for a toss, because the gormint hasn’t installed any waste bins at all. What negligence! It’s really chicken and egg here, don’t know who is more callous the public or the gormint. It goes to show that we get the gormint we deserve – i.e. – a callous and negligent one.

I had decided some years ago that I will never throw a plastic on the street, even when nobody is looking. I guess plastic is dangerous stuff and will remain on earth for something like hundreds of years and should be disposed of carefully. So I took a vow not to throw plastic or any garbage around and regularly stuff plastic wrappers and covers in my bag or my pockets till I can safely throw it into a bin.

I had all but forgotten about the plastic in my bag that day. If the plastic remains in the bag for a few days, I squirrel it into a big enough bucket at home which I use as a dump for all my stuff, plastic and all. But as I got down that day at Belapur I saw a youth – similarly obsessed as me – opening his bag and emptying several plastic wrappers into the plastic garbage bin. This made me smile and I waited patiently till he had finished, gave him a smile and dumped my plastic into the bin after him.

He paused, a thin smile playing on his lips. The connection was made, common agenda identified, brotherhood established, secret acknowledgement passed. I hope more and more people become members of our tribe, so if you find this post inspiring please pass it on.

And do say no to plastic and if you ever use one, dispose of it carefully. Good luck!