Historic Imbalance

Sometime back, our Prime Minister Dr.Manmohan Singh initiated a committee. It was headed by Mr.Sacher. The purpose of that committee is to find out the status of representation of muslims in various governement departments.

The Sacher committee report was released five months back. It was a true revelation of the status of Muslim community in India.

The report threw light on how muslims are grossly under-represented in various departments. Even in states which proclaim to be minority-friendly don’t have enough representation of Muslims in various sectors (in proportion to the Muslim population)

After the report was released there were wide-spread talks about reservation for Muslims. But strangely after that I find no efforts being taken on it.

It has been left unattended like many proposed reforms.
Sadly, there is no political party which is considering this seriously. This is the fate of this country, if something is not in the politicians mind then it never becomes a reality.

There is no need for any statistical data for justifying the fact that Muslims are under-represented in all departments. If you are working in a IT industry, just get up from your seat and see how many Muslims are sitting around you. Hardly any.?

But go to a economically backward zone of the city, Its major share would be Islam population. Is this a classic example of a historic betrayal, which will be left untold ?

They are branded as 'fundamentalists' by the west because of the sheer passion that they show towards their religion. They are blamed of not sailing in the main-stream. Yes they should be brought to the main-stream.

The change should be initiated from the government side. We should give them opportunity. Through reservations.

Villager

Our native is a miniscule village in salem district. And from there my great-grandparents moved to salem leaving their fields. They were one of the first set of people moving out to cities which had became a trend those times. They ended up working in collectorates, railways and post-offices which were run by Britishers.

My ancestors settled around 'Fort' area in salem and many of them worked as clerks in collectorate. So their children had their education in schools in salem. Invariably schools were run by christian missionaries those days. There were subjects like british history, domestic economy..etc (I peeped into the grade-sheet of my grandpa last week.. It was dated 1930-33).

A few of those educated lot ended up working in services. Few got through ICS (Indian Civil Service). Few of them turned rebellious against british raj and went on to work in tamil dailies.

And most importantly few went back to villages to work as tahsildars(VAO).
For those tahsildars, it was a kind of home-coming. They perched into the lands of their ancestors , and with solemn authority given to them by the raj they governed and dominated the village.

Time passed by and there were a new generation of people coming. These people were the first sons (and daughters) of independent India. They worked in banks, telephone exchanges, PWD bords. And a considerable lot were left jobless(who were sons of so called tahsildars).

This jobless lot turned to the most primitive occupation of mankind - agriculture. They produced corns,rice and sugarcane from their meagre lands. And devised their lifestyle to meet with the meagre earnings that they got.

When the world went crazy with the information revolution in late nineties. They were immune to that.Their only view of urbanised India is through their visits to their relatives whose ancestors had preffered to stay in the city.

With every visit they carry the innocence and ignorance of villagehood. I met one such person last week.

He was carrying a two dozens of banana and a bag full of maize (all produced in his farm). His language is so different from that of city-dwellers. He showed a lot of attachment to people which is so uncommon among urbanised people.

He would refer to the name of a distant relative (whom we can barely recollect) and say that he has twelve cows in his backyard. For him its like having a hefty back-balance.

He wanted me to take him to a movie, a recent block-buster in Tamil. At first I tried avoiding that by telling that tickets wont be available. But he was determined.
Inevitably I took him to a theatre which was jam-packed with people. I was crushed and calcined before I got the ticket. And that too I managed to fet only the front row tickets!

I have never seen a movie sitting in front row. And you cant simply do that when it comes to tamil/telugu movies. There were only buckets of mud with the word 'THEE(fire)' written on it between the front row and the screen.

Everything seemed to happen in high magnitude. So far , the balcony seats had offered me a nice asylum for staying back and enjoying the movie. But now.. I am in the thick of the action. I felt like being in the middle of the gang which was thrashed by the hero, the hero was staring at me and his eyes occupied two thirds of the screen.
Never ever sit in a front row and watch the movie.It sucks big time. After all this.. I turned to see how my counterpart looked like. And to my surprise his face glazed with the sense of amazement. He felt it was previlage to sit in front row and watch a movie.
After the movie was over and we started to move, he got my hands and said "It’s the greatest honour in my life. You made me to sit in front row".

I didn’t want to shatter his belief that he was honoured by me. After all life is all about those moments when you feel you are honoured by others.

Wiedersehen

The language

What is the language of breeze..?
Is it sound or music...
What is the language of flowers..?
color or fragrance..
What is the language of oceans..?
Waves or the foam..

When the breeze blows, there is no direction for it..
When the love flows, there is no language for it..

When the cloud speaks.. it is called as drizzle..
when the rainbow speaks.. it is called color..
when truth becomes dumb.. Tears becomes the language..
when womanhood becomes dumb.. Shyness becomes the language..

When the night falls.. stars becomes the language..
When your sweetheart is near you.. Her touch becomes language..

The above is the translation of Kaatrin Mozhi song from the tamil movie Mozhi (2007).
Simply breathtaking lyrics. Very subtle music by Vidyasagar telling the power of silence.
Sung by newcomer Balaram..
Hats off to the team.
This is my second favorite song.

Wiedersehen

L O V E

As I start typing this post, I got one text message from one of my friends.. It goes like this.. " If you are failed in love or don’t get any.. Don’t Worry.. Its nothing but your fiancé's prayer…"

Well.. In this post I am going to talk about one of the most fascinating yet most intriguing thing that has gifted as well as haunted mankind. LOVE.

Philosophy says that world exists because of love. It’s a thread that stitches two hearts. Psychology says it’s a alter-ego. Also it stresses that insecurity of loneliness pushes one to love. Science says that its rush of hormones. It is a chemical reaction.
History has a lot of love stories in it backyard. Taj Mahal is a standing example for that. Literature is almost numb without love.

Love is all around in the air. The only thing is that you have to grab it. You have to feel it.

Society is against love. Lovers are the most happiest people in the world. Society doesn’t want happy people.
Happy people don’t go to the warfront in times of chaos.
Happy people never builds bridges or lay roads.

Elders are against love because they were brain-washed by religious pundits. Rulers are against love because they fear that the fragile barriers that they have built with caste and creed will be broken by the mighty force of love.
So an ordinary sociopath is made to shy away from love. His succumbs to the peer-pressure. I will call it as a domino effect.
The same phenomenon that makes the share prices to crib also makes the human mind to crumble - The domino effecr.
I whole heartedly support love. I am against the concept of arranged marriages. I would say love is just a natural thing. Just like sneezing, coughing,yawning I would classify falling in love.

Now.. Should I also fall in love with someone and make the world a better place..? Sorry.. I am from Mars…:)

X CROSS ROAD X

He was helpless . He was standing and watching humanity as I do. He was too weak to cross the road . Some one from the other side of road was shouting at him. He took them for granted. He was smiling. His face was dull but his smile was bright.

I asked him why people are shouting at him, he was left with no answers..
I asked him "why you came to this side of road?".. He said "I don’t like the other side."
His hair was uncombed.. His shirt was torn.. He was barefoot…
Is he made to be like this?
Is this the fault of him or the fault of society..?
He likes to remain in the this side of the road.. Here he can see greeneries.. Here he can smell nature.. Here he had that smile..
Now..He prays.. He cries.. But violently he is taken to the other side.. The materialistic side.. And he is made to stay there itself.

When he had crossed the road to come to this side, people shouted at him. They frightened him.. They made his life dreadful..
Nobody likes this side of the road.. No one wants to live in the realistic side..
They find reasons to avoid realistic side.. They want to live by mind rather than by heart.. Therby they remain in materialistic side.

As I stay back in the realistic side, seeing the little boy violently dragged to the materialistic side ..The little boy was still crying… His shirt was torn.. His face was more dull.. He had people around him who were still scolding him for crossing to the other side.. He was taught that crossing the road hereafter is a sin and that he had been given last excuse.. An elderly priest was also preaching him the same thing, taking quotes from epics.

I was laughing.. Human beings always like misery.. They always like to travel towards uncertainity..

On which side of road are you now..?

Distant Lands

Kerala is known as 'God`s own country'. You have to be there to realise it. It’s a land of endless splendors. It’s beauty is breath-taking. It’s a place where nature still nurtures.

Sometime back I went to kerala to attend a friends wedding. She was my college mate. Thamarassery is a microscopic village in kozhikode district.The bumpy roads didn’t stop the rumbling bus. 'Mayilvahanan travels' read the board on top of the bus. Its conductor had a thick moustache and was holding a leather bag (with the picture of mira jasmine) in his hand.

The bus spit four of us in Mangulam. And there was a boatman there flicking his mundu in style. We asked him the route for thamarassery. With a smiling face he offered us a ride in his boat. The ride was nice and cool, with the amber rays of sun making us to feel blue. From the distance I saw thamarassery.It is a little paradise.The entire geography of the village ends in 4 kilometers, but it has a world in itself.

Northern kerala is dotted with backwaters which give a typical feel to that place. Thamarassery is no exception to that. The boatman threw the half smoked malabar beedi as we landed in the village. The waterbody was still bathed by glittering rays of sun, which managed to perch through the coconut leaves. As a mark of respect, he removed the turban in his head.We gave him a hundred rupee note, which he accepted with a prayer.

I alone can hear him sing 'welcome to hotel kerala-fonia' …Arghh.

An old 'Prem Nazir - sheela' number was blaring from the nearby toddy shop as we walked past. On the other side of the road was a old malabar style house with a 'sickle-hammer' flag in its roof. Communism still sells in kerala.

All families in that village survive by the money sent by their dear-ones from dubai. My friend is no exception to that. Her brother is working in a leading petroleum company in abu dhabi. She got into our college through 'management quota'.
As we walked past a wooden bridge which was helplessly hanging over the water, I can see a wealthy settlement on the other side. It’s the place where all the 'dubai-settlers' have ther ancestoral homes.
Each house in that area was a piece of art-work. I don’t know what gives that traditional feel to them, the king-size pillars? The rezhi (vacant area in middle of the house)? Or is it just the smell of coconut trees nearby?
Tears of joy were rolling down from the eyes of my friend. She is the first one among our friends circle to enter into the next phase of life. Soon she will be going to fly into the distant lands of sharjah.
Whatever scarce malayalam we had learnt from our friend, we spoke. Or rather I should say 'we sang'. Yes.. It’s a musical language.
As we started after the ceremony we were given a bag of sweets.. Coconut.. Banana.. More coconut.. As we started from that beautiful village , I decided I should spend my retired life in Thamarassery. No doubt.. I would be a full time poet then.
Distant lands are always green!

Auf wiedersehen

** Enemity **

Last week I was reading a book called "The art of war". It was a book written in 250BC by a chinese general called Sun Tzu.

The book was full of tactics that one should adopt in a battle. I found striking some striking similarities.

It says "one who takes allies for granted will lose friends, but one who takes enemies for granted will lose himself ".

"My world is defined by my enemies. Friends always encourage me for whatever I do. Enemies sets the benchmark. They push me towards peak. I can live in a world without friends, but I cant live in a world without enemies" says Tsing-Ti, an emperor in han dynasty.
Now...Are we living in a world which is void of enemies..?

US is a developed country now because they had an enemy in the form of USSR. European countries are developed because there was an enemity during second world war. Japan also took part in second world war. You can see that all the developed countries now took part in some battle in last 100 years. All the technological developments have been from such countries.

Interpolating this, I would say, Sri lanka or some African country (like Uganda!!!) will be the next superpower. The enemity is in their blood. The brain behind any innovation is surely the rage to vanquish the enemies.
Just because we don’t have that rage.. Just because we were told to do 'satyagraha' to make things happen.. I think we lose the edge.
Right from the childhood we were taught not to quarrel with others. But it had made us meek, made us like little kittens.
We don’t fight for our rights. We take things as it comes to us. We live life at surface level. We get stressed because we are denied rights. We show a cold face on loved ones because of that. We end up in a complete mess.
Our rage should be always towards the enemy. Our mind should always think of how to anhilate them with our skills. That’s how we can reach the pinnacle.
It also suits to ones personal life- Have a lot of friends on whom you can trust. But don’t forget to have an enemy.
Let there be force. The force to fight.
Be a rebel.

Auf wiedersehen.

Chords

I just look around me as I post(verb) this post(noun).
Coffee mug, water bottle, cellphone, penstand, a magazine flapping in air, a greeting card from my friend. No sign of humans in the vicinity of my mind. Now, is that the reason why I post to this blog. Had a friend called now or if I had seen a friend online would I be writing this?
Are all the events in this world interconnected. Are there anythings which can be termed as mutually exclusive events?
I got a bicycle from my dad and I am working in a multinational company. Two events, spread across two different period of time, seemingly unconnected and exclusive of each other. But I find a mild chord running through these events. So mild is the chord that it needs absolute solitude and a mug of irish black coffee to discover the connection.
Yesterday was a gloomy day in bangalore. It rained as though it had never rained before. It made me stay in office late. So late that I got bored of rain. Finally it showed some signs of receding and I managed to sneak into the coffee day near my office. I like coffee especially on a rainy day.
Alone to coffee day.. Sounds crazy..? Coffee shops are not meant only for lovers, I know a friend who goes to coffee day alone like me. Infact I found more little chords criss-crossing my past. All that happened yesterday. The 'bicycle - multinational company chord' is only one thing which I am quoting here. There are millions which I discovered yesterday itself. I plan my next coffee day session (of course alone!!) for I would be lost in discoveries otherwise.
Physics means fascination to me now. It is a world where nature,philosophy and logics merge into one. It is a ecsastic experience to live in such a beautiful world.
I developed this love towards physics during class XI. The one who`s responsible for showing the world of science to me was my physics tuition teacher.
So deep was my love towards physics that I started collecting MIR publication books (of erstwhile soviet union) which explained concepts of physics in the easiest possible way.
I developed love towards astrophysics. I started reading more books regarding that. At times I was cautioned to come to the academic routine.
It is only natural that I took mechanical engineering. I thought it would enhance my love towards physics. Then because of some more chords ( really thick ones this time), I developed love towards automobiles. Because of that I read everything which carried the picture of car with it. I still count this transition as one of the decisive things in my life.
Finally I ended up in multinational company which is the heart of automotive industry! I find love (towards physics, of course!) behind all these events. Thin chord?
So.. Wondering where does the bicycle come into picture here?
I told my dad that I will go for tuitions for my class XI only if he gets me a bicycle.

When I travel

I like window seat. No matter wheather its a bus or a train, the window seat really fascinates me. It gives the picture of the world outside. Its not that easy to peep into every village and feel their inherent beauty. Being a window seater gives you the opportunity to have a glimpse on country side. The flora and fauna, and most importantly the people you see from the window of your bus carry lot of untold stories behind them.
I am a frequent traveller and I always used to take window seats during my journeys. As the vapours of the steaming filter coffee block my vision as I type these words, I am thinking of how I got into the habit of sitting by the window and what had made me to give up that.
Though my native is salem, I was born and brought up in temple-town of palani till i was ten years old. During those times, I used to travel with my parents to salem atleast twice a month. Its a 150 mile journey spanning for five hours. We used to start on friday evenings around 5pm. I was still a half-ticket then and so I was forbidden a seat in the bus. So I used to be in my mom`s lap. She is also a window lover. As the bus traverses through the country side, I used to ask innumerable questions.
Who lives in this hut .? Why are people washing clothes in the river side? Why some roads are left unattended? and some real tuffy like Why are some people begging?
My mom used to be patient. Many of her answers would be "Its like that".
I used to ask back "Why it is like that?".
Through the world shown by her, I picturised a portrait based on what i saw through the window.
Later when we moved to salem, I missed those window journeys. But it was not so long as i landed up in college in one another city of coimbatore. Again window journeys.. Hippie!!
Most of college friends who travelled with me those used to sleep as soon as the bus starts. Many ways it helped in creating a solitary space around me. I started loving the world which i saw through the window. The portrait was more colourful.
In the faces of people whom I see through the window i interpret untold stories. In the sunset which bathes the green fields with its golden rays I see unwritten classics. In the breeze that only window sitter can get i hear unheard melodies.
But all this was till my last journey...
Two days back I was travelling in a 1970 model tata bus (the one which had benz engine inside) from Bangalore to Hosur. The KSRTC driver was pressing the accelerator pedal upto the floor tapping out the maximum power that he can get from the age old vehicle. Having crossed the limits of bangalore, the bus was screaming ahead at a tearing pace. It was like a rolling juggrernaut. He handled the corners with the precision of an F1 driver. Sitting in the first seat I enjoyed that joy ride. Its as though playing a computer game.
Ya.. I have decided to give up my window seat for the front seat. If the window seat was a calm portrait of transendence the front seat is the transendence itself. The roaring engine, The clumsy instrument panel, An age old gear knob, uncleaned windsheild with scratches left behind by the wiper. The cars and truck that play the sport with you in the highway. Its the real thing. I am seriously thinking of taking up a job as bus driver.:)
As i finish posting this i would be taking my Maruti 800 and test its horses. Vrooom...

Auf wiedersehen.

About what?

I wonder how people perceive the word 'blog'. Mostly people look for themes.They are used to the patternized outlook of world. The most frequent question i face when i speak about my blog is "about what?".
Actually, i still dont have a perfect definition on what my blog is going to be about. My first blog was a flop.It was a theme based blog and after a few posts I ran out of ideas. Basically our minds can never be confined to think about a theme. Its wings are spread all along. Blogs are not confined spaces, Its the reflection of our minds. I will never answer 'about what?' questions. I go sick of it.
Sitting in the solitary space created in the steel and concrete jungle of bangalore.. I would be passing my thoughts to the cyber community.
This is jus a small post to start with. Look out this space to know how it is like being prasanna!