Visiting My School after Forty-three Years

Imagine visiting your school after forty-three years. Yes. I did exactly that last week. We had graduated from Adarsha Vidyalaya, Chembur, Bombay in 1973 and it’s now forty-three years. The occasion of the visit was my classmate Gangadharan’s book (Evergreen Leaves) launch, which he insisted should be in his alma mater. So we – Sanjeevan, Ajit, Geeta, Chandra, Ravi, Shashi, Sasikumar – reached our school at 10.30 a.m.

And what do we find? The school is not what it used to be. The entire structure has changed. What used to be a free space under the stair is now the school’s office. Our laboratory was changed into an auditorium. A new wing and a new floor has been added. Our eleventh standard class seemed so small we couldn’t fit into it. God alone knows how we sat in the class at that time. There was a sense of something gone missing, something having shrunk. Not us. Must be the school. I guess we were smaller then than we are now. Adolescence was an awkward time and we could see our concerns written on the walls of the class. Some of us have realised our dreams, some of us haven’t. Hm.

In our classroom at Adarsha Vidyalaya, Chembur, after a long time of 43 years. Beside me is Ravi Nair, behind me is Ajit Thampi and Chandrashekharan.

Melancholy thoughts aside. We had our teachers for company. Shankaranarayan-sir who taught us English was the person who inspired me to read poetry and prose. Reading led to writing, though I confess I have not proved my chops so far. I have a chip on my shoulders to perform you know, so many great writers in my family. I am somewhat ashamed that I didn’t live up to some people’s expectations. Sorry! He was also the one who inspired Ganga to write. His classes used to fun, full of anecdotes about how Keats was suffering from tuberculosis and how Shelly was his friend and champion. Keats died thinking of himself as a failure in Rome. After Keats’ death at age 25 Shelly wrote in his poem Adonais:

The loveliest and the last,

The bloom, whose petals nipped before they blew

Died on the promise of the fruit.

All this came to mind when I saw Shankaranarayan-sir. The shock of thick curly hair is gone, he is bald now. The revolutionary of those days is the owner of a profitable industry today. The transformation from proletariat to bourgeoisie happened slowly. However, he hasn’t forgotten or forsaken his writing talent and writes and directs plays these days.

Padmavati-teacher was our class teacher in the final year that was eleventh standard. Those days we had eleven standards, not ten like it is now. Padmavati-teacher taught us general science and she insisted that we carry the huge textbook to class every day. I was a bit of a rebel, rebelling against such strictures internally, and I didn’t bring it to class and got punished numerous times. To her surprise, when the board exam results were received I had scored the highest in general science in school. She gifted me a pen at that time, which I have lost, but, the gesture stayed with me. It was a pleasure meeting her.

It seemed our teachers had done very well and were in the best of health, and as someone remarked, had better health than her students. Padmavati-teacher is 75 years old and walks for one hour every day.

We took our pictures sitting in our old classroom, on shrunken little benches. Then we met the officiating principal now, and then we dispersed. I felt as if a lot of memories lay trapped inside those classes, which I had just visited.

On Reading Chinua Achebe's Book Things Fall Apart

I finished reading Chinua Achebe’s “Things Fall Apart” yesterday. Reading it on the Kindle I had no idea I had reach the end. It happened so abruptly, I wasn’t prepared for the sudden end. I wanted the book to go on. But that’s not a disappointment, right? It’s a sign of the author’s genius, taking us by the hand and guiding us through the novel, it’s plot, it’s denouement, it’s ending. Truly a masterly tale.

Why the abrupt ending disappointed me is this: the missionaries had arrived, conversions were going on, executive power was being exercised. I, for one, was interested in finding how Christianity got established and other forms of animism, ancestor worship, were wiped out. This is a subject of vast potential as most societies retain their cultural identity while converting to a new faith. The Christians of Nagaland still celebrate their past customs and belief in spite of having converted to Christianity. Likewise, in ancient church denominations in Kerala worship begins with the lighting of the ceremonial lamp, a Hindu tradition.

Okwonko of Umofia will be one of literary history’s unforgettable characters because of his sensitivity to his culture and its practices. The fact that he goes into exile willingly in accordance with the wishes of his tribe is significant. Its importance arises from the fact that he is a hot-blooded warrior and is willing to fight for the upkeep of his culture and traditions.

However, one thought lingers: is it so hunky dory in traditional societies? Achebe’s Umofia makes us think that there isn’t any rebellion in the Igbo tribe of people and all are obedient and nice. Such an Utopian society screams for explication. That community would seem like an author’s fantasy rather than harsh reality.

Anyway, Things Fall Apart is one of the defining work by an African writer and will remain so for a long time. 

Tribute to Cartoonist R.K.Laxman; Starting My Own Cartoon Blog Johntoons

Here's a computer sketch I drew of R.K.Laxman's character, who doesn't have a name, as far as I know.

R.K.Laxman was one of the pioneers of cartooning in India along with Shankar, Abu Abraham, Mario Miranda, and others. Unfortunately, the current crop of cartoonists can't measure up to the high standards set by these pioneers. There was one Toms who drew cartoons for Malayala Manorama and then went on to set up his own publication. Nothing much is know about him after that.

R.K.Laxman stands out with his fluid lines, elegant brushstrokes, and acerbic wit. Though his talents declined during his later years, he kept drawing and caricaturing till the very end.

In school there was this wall paper we had on which were written the day's news. There was a small cartoon space in the right hand corner. As the school's multi-talented artist, it was my duty to fill this with Laxman's cartoon of the day. I must say I honed my cartooning skills drawing in this space.

I have now gone and started a cartooning blog called "Johntoons" at http://johntoons.blogspot.in. When Laxman's journey has ended mine as a cartoonist is just beginning. I am also buying a printer with scanner so that I can post cartoons here.

Wish me luck in this endeavour.

How I Got Rid of "Ester Nutzer"

For weeks it sat on my browser - Chrome - two words I had no clue about. "Ester Nutzer." I didn't know what it meant. Was it Malaware? Was it a spying program? Was it one of those phishing things I hear about. ​Though reasonably tech savvy I had no idea what this was.​

The Offensive Erster Nutzer. Oh it's Erster! Sorry for that typo. Who bothers now!

I was completely at a loss.

I put a message of Facebook. The replies weren't encouraging. I searched the net and found that "Ester Nutzer" meant first user ​in German​. Well I am the first user of my computer, who else could have access to it?

I downloaded a Malaware programme, which was of no use to remove those two hateful words. Again, the sense of loss continued unwittingly. I have too many documents of importance on the computer to want to lose anything. 

Only now have I realised the importance of backing up my data.​

We live in an age devoid of privacy. Whatever we do is available and visible to someone sitting somewhere. I was thinking of this: is he reading my mail, is he deleting my files? Who is he? And

​

, interestingly,the US administration says they have a right to snoop into our emails in the greater interest of humanity. I know the security of the human race comes before anything else in this beleaguered world, but what about my security? Is there no guaranty for that?

Then today I went to the settings of my browser. (It is the icon with the three horizontal lines right at the top end of the browser.​)​ There again I find my friend "Ester Nutzer" sitting above my name as the first user. What the heck​?​
Get away, off with you, man. I don't want you snooping on my computer anymore. There was a small button to delete him. I did it.

Mercifully now my browser doesn't have his august presence imprinted on it. I can rest content.

Don’t Believe Salesmen, Or, Their Talk

Two things happened today which disillusioned me irreparably about the profession I had been working in all along. Marketing. I was a copywriter for corporate in their corporate communication departments, which was, sort of, food on the table, and kept the home fires burning. I confess I wrote pretty gooey stuff for these companies that exploited my talent. But, all said and done, no regrets. At least, no major ones, that is, till today.

Today a friend thrust a medicine in my hand saying it was good for me, apparently, for my health condition. He is an marketing executive with a pharmaceutical company and I very trustingly gave him the cost of the medicine. I swallowed (wrote “ate” here, sorry) one of his pills and towards afternoon my body was itching and my hands had swollen up with welts as a result constant scratching. The friend had pulled a fast one and I was a sucker for his sales talk. Next time we meet I will wring his neck for the welts, and force feed him his own medicine. (I look at my welted hands as I type this.)

The second one is a trial software I installed. The goddamned thing doesn't have a functionality to remove it from my computer. Every day it sends messages to me to buy it for USD 19 only, per month. Am I mad? USD 19 per month is a royal amount considering I am not working anymore and whatever I scrape from the bottom is not sufficient enough. And, there are no retirement benefits to boot. (A clerk in a government department - a distant relation - draws a pension of Rs 18,000, which is a shame. They have been parasites and will remain so.) Imagine my state: no money; no software. Then I go to the directory where the programme is installed and try to delete it from there, from the root, sort of. It says I need special permission to do that. In fact, the company wants to s**** my happiness till I buy its software. Ahem!

Both the above are instances of aggressive marketing. Face it, we are living in an age of marketing with no care for the consumer, or, what his experience is. The digital age is all about selling and not servicing the customer. So, beware, don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.

Meanwhile, any help on how to remove the software? 

People Say the Wrong Things in Hospital

During my recent illness, I was toying with painful idea of giving up on my novel I am writing Mr. Bandookwala. This may anger some and make some go "Ah! So he didn't make it, yeahn?" "So much wasted effort." "Thank God, I won't have to bear his prattle of what stage the novel is in."


Yes people say wrong things. I know, I know, you deny this right? You can see this at funerals. There would be a group of uncouth dregs of society laughing on the solemn occasion. The reason I didn't want people to visit me in hospital was this. People say the wrong things and you can't stop them from doing so. There is one fellow parishioner who I suspect has necrophilia in a very advanced stage. Whenever he speaks he will bring out the medical condition in which people he knew died, along with descriptions in gruesome detail. Imagine him visiting me in hospital. I would have a tough time handling him. I suspect I would collapse. In hospital a patient is thinking of his recover and along comes this tyke, this moron, who talk so casually about medical condition and death.


So I said no visitors, please. A hospital is not the best time to meet me. Drop in at home; we will have a coffee and a chat. I am unshaven and have not slept for six days, what would they think? They will pronounce the end of the road for me.


I thought I had a lot of fight left in me. I still do. I used to play football and was in the college team. Though – smarting from hurt pride – as an extra, sitting on the bench.


After coming home and seeing the manuscript my heart melted. I said to myself I can't let this go just yet. I love this story. I have spent six years of my life on it. Some publisher will surely see it for its quality and publish it.


So I switch off the television at 10 p.m. and say our family prayer and I am in bed by 10.30 p.m. or, at the most, 11 p.m. I am up at 5 a.m. and working, sipping on hot green tea. Hope to give you the good news that the final copyediting is over and done.

The Axis Powers: The Word Dominator that Almost Was

I have been blogging about Japan's advance through the south-east Asian region in the past few blogs, a military advance in which I lost my uncle. This is after reading Richard Flannagan's "The Narrow Road to the Deep North," which won the Man Booker Prize this year. This, unwittingly, set off a train of thought the narrative of which is as follows. I would like you to comment freely on what you think of my hi-falutin ideas (worth nothing, though they may be).

Now imagine if Japanese forces had succeeded in building the Death Railway and captured India and went on to East Asia and met up with Rommel's forces in Africa. India would have come under the oppressive rule of Japan, much like China and Korea. Then the history of the world would have been a whole lot different than it is now.

The Axis powers would have had the largest territory in the world and soon Russia and US would have been subdued and brought under it.

This would have resulted in our being subject to two extreme political ideologues the twentieth century has seen: Nazism and Nipponism. Both were oppressive, undemocratic, and dictatorial. We would have had no freedom though we were a free country and India would have suffered from the manufacturing dictates of great Japanese corporations.

The reason why Japan's ambitions have remained a secret is because they didn't permit the documenting of history even by their prisoners. Letters were either burnt or thrown into the sea. They may have kept some record in Japanese, which is uaccessible to researchers. Nippon's votaries were far more ambitious than Hitler himself. They wanted to subdue the world at any cost, and had grown drunk with their own spirit of greatness. They assumed a megalomania unseen in the civilised world.

Japanese bosses are known to strike their subordinates. We Indians would not have suffered this indignity and would have chafed at their power.

Such a behemoth political force as might have been created – nay, almost created – would have seen the downfall of all struggles for freedom.

So my question, which rankles my mind often, is: which was better? Western hegemony with its pretended democratic real politic, humaneness, and compassion or the Axis powers ruling the world. You answer.

The Cruelty of the Japanese Army in the Eastern Front, As Told by Richard Flanagan in the Booker-winning Novel "The Narrow Road to the Deep North"

Reading as I am Booker-winning The Narrow Road to the Deep North (author: Richard Flannagan) I am convinced that the act of bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki were justified. Here we see a race that has no compassion, love, grace, or, for that matter an approximation of justice. The scenes depicting the cruelty meted out to prisoners on the Death Railway built at that time from Thailand to Burma is indeed horror-filled, inhuman, and insane. If such a people had captured India, our plight would have been worse than under the British. Yes.

Disclaimer: my uncle died in this great and ambitious struggle. He had been enlisted in the British army and then drafted by the Indian National Army of Subash Bose. Impetuous and compulsive (also good looking) he was my grandparents' favourite son. The last letter received from him talked of taking my father to Singapore where he was stationed, before the Nips (as Japanese were described at that time) invaded it. (Aside: if he had taken my father to Singapore I wouldn't have existed, so wouldn't this blog. My father would surely have died with him before siring me! What a sick, but probable thought!) Subsequently, all communication stopped, because the Nips didn't transmit any letters, knowing the cruelty they were inflicting would become known. So, no records exist. That itself is a larger cruelty than killing the soldiers with work, without food, without medicines, without rest, and without tools. Prisoners were punished for simple transgressions as resting when they were sick. He is believed to have died of starvation, though he was a soldier of a friendly army.

The greatest irony of the war in the eastern front is that there are no records, no letters, no any diaries. That is why this novel assumes importance and deservedly has won the Booker. The names of people who have died are also not known. It's a strange mixture of extreme cruelty and atrocious suffering inflicted on people and should be researched, at least, to correct the wrongs done by history.

The Nips were all duty-bound to obey the emperor, obsequiously so. But why deny human beings common facilities like medicine and food? The cruelties on the eastern front surpasses, if not equals that of the Jewish genocide in Europe. Will history forgive the perpetrators? Will some justice come to those who died?

My mind flusters, it goes blank, I am not able write anymore. 

The Death Railway to Burma and People Who Built It

From Richard Flanagan's The Narrow Road to the Deep North, which I am reading now, it is obvious that the Japanese Imperial Army (JIA) weren't kind employers. Prisoners of war (POWs) were required to work all days of the week in gruelling shifts of twelve hours a day to build what was known as the Death Railway to Burma.

 

It also appears that when my uncle Cherian Mathew joined the Indian National Army under Subash Bose he might have imagined being treated better than the POWs. But I have a suspicion that he wasn't and the JIA meted out the same treatment as the POWs to the members of INA. There have been eyewitness accounts of how my uncle died of hunger and malnutrition, working in dire conditions. I guess he must have been working on the Death Railway project which sought to connect Thailand to Burma through thick forests. The Bridge over the River Quai is a poignant movie that documents the trials of the prisoners.

 

In Flanagan's novel the author recounts the experience of Australian POWs working under Japanese supervision. Their boss Nakamura is strict and relentless. Workers are dying around him of malnutrition and cholera, but he shows no concern. He is bound only by the code of honour of serving the emperor, unflinchingly, unquestioningly. He is only worried about meeting his deadlines for the construction of the railway.

 

It also seems that the Death Railway was built in patches, not end to end. Meaning several gangs were working on different sites, which then would be joined to create the final railway line.

 

I trolled the maps to find the attached one of the Death Railway. However, on following it to the Burmese border I find that it terminates at a station named Nam Tok and doesn't proceed any further than that. It falters, then comes to a dead end there. So, the railway to Burmah through thick forests was a failure after all. So much effort, starvation, deaths, ill treatment, all happened for nothing.

 

Now if you search Death Railway on google maps, you will find that the line is dotted by many resorts. I guess, the Thai government must be exploiting the tourism potential of the Death Railway, which happens to be the only saving grace of this wasted effort.

Where Will This Materialism Lead?

This is recent. Very. I was discussing materialism and its far-reaching implications into our psyche with a friend. The papers are full of ads this Diwali season exhorting people to buy and there are discounts to be had, cars to be won, gold coins to be availed of. As often happens during such ruminations, I – self righteously, I may add – defended my non-materialistic aspects.

 

"My fridge lasted 20 years, my washing machine 10 years, my gas stove was changed recently after 20 years, my teapoy is more than 30 years old, I still have the same drawing room cane furniture of 10 years."

 

Hm. My high-ass proclamations seemed empty when compared to the following, which I am writing here, and was not told to my friend, who, after all, doesn't read my blogs. So here it is safe. And here goes:

 

My mobile phone is 10 months old, I had to replace the old one because the battery ran out within hours; my laptop is only 6 months old, a replacement warranted by a bad keyboard and screen; my guitar is only 2 years old, as the old one warped and had to be replaced, my television is only 1 year old as the old gent gave up after 15 years of sputtering.

 

All those things I mentioned first were manufactured around 15 years ago and were high in quality. Meaning they went through a manufacturing and quality control process. However, the products I mention second don't seem serious about quality at all. They all bring out newer models and advertise aggressively to sell. Try and get your laptop and smartphone repaired. No, they don't have parts.

 

It is this materialism that is at the root of society's evils. When you invest money in a badly produced product you are wasting your precious resources.

 

The latest iphone costs around Rs 60 thousand. It's the version six. What if I buy one? Will it last me for five years? No, I will want to buy version seven when it comes out for a fancier price. For that 60 thousand rupees I could have:

 

1. Repainted my house

2. Bought books

3. Bought half a Tata Nano car (I don't know about this!)

4. Gone on holiday

5. Given to the poor

6. Put in fixed deposit and earned 9 per cent interest (Rs 5400)

7. Some of these and much more....

 

Man will never be satisfied with what he has. But his greed is giving rise to the adoption of the "use and discard" philosophy. Manufacturing is no longer important, only researching new products is.

 

Where will this materialism lead?