Social satire

Agraharathil Kazhuthai (அக்ரஹாரத்தில் கழுதை, Donkey in Brahmin neighbourhood,1977, Tamil)

Director & Screenplay: John Abraham

I bet you do not know of an avant-garde director from Kerala whose 2 out 4 films that he made in his short life time made in to the list of best Indian movies. His second movie, Agaraharathil Kazhuthai in Tamil was listed in IBN Live's 2013 poll as the '100 Greatest Indian Films' of all time. His 1986 film, Amma Ariyan (1986), is the only South Indian film to make it to the British Film Institute's list of 'Top 10 Indian films'.
Abraham is supposed to have been a nomadic character who had a problem with the bottle and establishment. He fell off a roof and met his untimely demise when he was just neglected as a drunken vagabond and prompt treatment was not instituted at a public hospital.

Did Nieztche say that?

This quirky story is a social satire which takes a deep jab at the Indian populace, specially against the people of the Brahmin community.

A college professor, Narayanaswami, comes home to find a stray foal (baby donkey) sitting in front of his home. The neighbour tells him that the foal's mother was beaten up and killed by some passers-by when it had injured the boy who was trying to prank the donkey. Narayanswami, a kind hearted bachelor, takes in the foal and provides food and shelter.

Pretty soon, people around him were unhappy with the presence of the animal and they think that he is going slightly mad. The helper-lady refuses to clean the foal's droppings. The landlord insists that the foal must go. At his college, Narayanaswami and his new companion is the butt of students' graffiti and jokes. The principal also puts his foot down to maintain dignity to the college.

Off he goes to leave the foal at his village with his parents. He pays the mute girl, Uma, who helps around the house to keep an eye on the pet. 

The villagers, mostly fussy Brahmins who are more interested with traditions and rituals are not comfortable with the presence of Sinna, the foal. Narayanaswami's brother and his morosely infertile wife move into the family house.The young boys in the neighbourhood have a field day creating mischief and blaming it on Sinna. A prayer function is disturbed, a match making ceremony is unceremoniously sent into a disarray and many other pranks occur, blaming it squarely on Sinna. The cheeky kids were doing all this because Uma is busy satisfying her carnal needs clandestinely at a disused temple with some bloke. 

Pretty soon the fruit of the union shows up. Surprisingly, nobody is bothered that this young unwed girl is walking around with a gravid uterus. Even, Narayanaswami who makes his regular trips back home is unperturbed. 

John Abraham

Many moons passed and Uma delivers a stillbirth. The midwife disposes of body of the newborn at the footsteps of the temple saying that the child of the God must go to the God. Perhaps the guy who fathered the child must have been a priest.

The last straw came when the dead baby came in the path of a Brahmin who was about to perform his daily godly duties. A mayhem occurs. Somebody mentioned that Sinna was seen carrying a cloth bundle. The public decided that Sinna had to go. Some bandits were summoned to beat the poor animal to pulp, to death. 

Slowly people start feeling guilty. The main man who initiated the attack on the foal started seeing visions of a donkey. He started telling people that the spirit of the donkey was sent by the Gods to protect the village. One by one pleasant things started happening. A 82 year old paralysed lady miraculously started walking and the barren Narayanaswami's sister in law conceives. 

Narayanaswami who returns discovers that the villagers plan to build a temple for Sinna to act as their guardian. 

After that, the story becomes fuzzy. Verses of Barathi are read in flowery Tamil with words that rhymes with fire (Thee). There is a suggestion that the distraught couple, Uma and Narayanaswami burn the whole village down!

In the Tamil culture, they are many proverbs which put donkeys in a bad and derogatory light - dull, stupid, uncultured,etcetera. The story shows how people have no qualms in harming and being mean to a fellow being even though they seem to be the 'chosen one' to fulfil divine duties in the world. They spend their whole life in religious work being vegetarian in the hope of not harming lives and elevating their position in the cycle of rebirths but paradoxically have no qualms about ill mouthing fellow beings and indulging in violence and worldly pleasures. 

Back to basics

In 1988, during my housemanship, LKH, a dedicated doctor who was excellent with his ears and eyes, related to me his experience in a medical rounds taken by his professor during his medical school days. The professor was describing the methodical but laborious ways to examine the chest and to appreciate the various sounds that were audible via a sthesthoscope. An American medical student doing his elective posting, who was amongst them, raised his hand to suggest, "Professor, wouldn't it be easier if we just ask for a Chest X-Ray to be done?"I am afraid we have come to this. Gone are the days where a proper medical examination starts with a good history taking. After developing a rapport and trust, the ancillary tests aid diagnosis, not the way to diagnose a condition!
Now, it appears that patients or symptoms are triaged to undergo complicated tests and imaging before a proper examination is done. Furthermore, simple Roentgenogram (Xrays) are deemed worthless now. Why do Xray when you can do an MRI?
A friend was all excited when his wife delivered a healthy son after a late marriage. So naturally, when his parents, who acted as their babysitter, told them that his 4month old boy had jerky movements of the one the hands, sometimes, he flipped.
A rush to the biggest private hospital with the state of the art equipment and workforce brought him to the office of a healer. Within a jiffy, before you can say, 'POOF", the infant was MRIed and an EEG was down together with a battery of blood tests with crimson hued sanguine filling test tubes with various colour coded more than the rainbow. After a few days' stay and a few thousand ringgit poorer, he was told that everything was A-OK. Diagnosis? "I think we will keep an eye again and do some more tests if it recurs"! In other words - Idiopathic, G.O.K (God only knows)!

The next few days were unsettling. Every grunt and every hiccough from the infant raised everybody's eyebrows and everybody's pulse rate. Ventilating with friends and relatives brought them again to an experienced paediatrician in a humble clinic without the flashy glare of new medical equipment. An old dog in this field, he resorted to the oldest trick in the book. He took a detailed history and a complete examination to come to a conclusion that the jerky movements were probably related to the improper way of carrying the baby and nothing more.

4 months after the visit, there are no more abnormal movement and everybody sleeps well in the house - father, mother, son and grandparents.

My friend, an accountant by training, realizes that medicine is not a science that has to have black and white proof like the receipts that he needs to balance his accounts but is an art by itself.

So you think you know everything!

To all those in my life who think that they know everything about everybody, their own self and matters of the world and the universe...
An interesting story of a lady and the malady that struck her that I heard over a podcast over Radiolab should be testimony that nobody can be cocksure about anything and anybody.
In 1985, a 36 year old lady (Penny Beernsteen) went for a jog at a beach during a family outing. She was sexually and physically assaulted at a secluded part of the beach. As she could not give a good fight against her assailant, she did the next best thing. She mentally made notes of his short stubby fingers, his mustache, his hair colour etcetera.

Penny Beernsteen

She survived the ordeal and positively made her cocksure picking out of the suspect without a shadow of doubt during an identification parade. A Steven Avery with petty crime records was picked out.
During the trial, his witnesses were weak comprising mostly of family members. Even though he was supposed to be working at a construction site, the correct type of soil was not identified. He was sentenced to 18years of jail.

Stephen Avery

After the initial of depression and anxiety, Penny started doing social work in the prison hoping to reform or at least prevent inmates from getting involved in heinous sexual crimes. Avery kept on appealing his case but was rejected again and again and Penny was always there at all his trials.
On fine day, when DNA evidence became admissible in courts, the crime scene DNA proved that the samples collected were not his. The evidence was instead that of another inmate, Gregory Allan, who at that time was doing time for another sexual crime. In fact, during Penny's mishap, he was under police surveillance but somehow due to lack of manpower he escaped the radar.

Predictably, Penny underwent a turmoil trying to come in terms with the fact an innocent man went to jail because of her. After much soul searching, she picked out courage to meet eye to eye with Steven Avery (it is a small town). After hearing her out, all he said was, "Sometimes these things happen!"

Gregory Allen

Life goes on...
Sometime later, the town was rocked again by the news of a heinous sexually motivated murder case of Teresa Halbach. After much prodding, Stephen Avery's nephew came forward to admit that both he and Steven were the culprits! Again, Penny was shaken up thinking that her testimony drove Avery to serious after a stint in jail. The police just assured her that he was involve in crime before, anyway.
So just when you think you know everything when you see someone in the eye and into the deeper soul, you realize that you really cannot be a perfect judge of character, can you?

Take a listen...@ 00:45:00++
http://www.radiolab.org/2013/mar/26/

What is life?

So this is life? After 52 years of wedded bliss, what do I have to show to myself? What am I left with? A big house which used to be a home with hive of activities that never tend to stop, the Christmas parties that never ended, the stream of friends that we never knew we had. Now I only have loneliness as my constant companion. Solitude is my trusted friend who lassos remote almost forgotten visions of my one and only. The bond that we shared were beyond physical worldly pleasures. Beyond the age of physical allure, our magnet attracted each other like no magnetized ferrous chunks could. 

Prove of our union love is the five lovely offspring that we cared for so much. A little squeal from one used to sound like a wail to you. And the ups and the downs that through together. And the sickness and the health! You are the only that I knew. 

I know I cannot be sniffling like a teenage girl over your demise. I had more than my share of happiness in the lifetime.

Oh God! I am so lonely. My shelf life is approaching its expiry. I do not wish to be a burden to our bearer of our traits. They have their commitments just like we had ours when we were in the prime of our lives.

After all the time doing all the things together, I cannot fathom the idea that I cannot touch you, feel you, question you. They say you are no more around. They say that you are in a good place and I will join you one day to continue the conversations at where we were rudely interrupted by the dreaded crab. But why is it that you appear in front of me ever so often? Why are you so silent with that cheeky smile that stole my eons ago? Why do I feel the aura of your presence? Why do I smell that brand of deodorant and after shave that you were loyal to all your life? Are you here as my guardian angel? Are you lonely there? Are you waiting for me?

You remember all the places that we had worked and gone for holidays together? You made it a point to bring a momento from each of your destination? Now, each and every part of these items have a bitter sweet story to tell. Every touch of an item opens the flood gates to an avalanche of memory with you, I, the kids and our dog Boo.

So, what is life? We sprout sheepishly, spring coyly, spread majestically, stand defiantly, bow progressively and slowly wither away with no trace, leaving only specks of memories to hold on to. 

Never lost in translation?

A few recent events make me wonder...
In the late 70s, we could not verify when a rumour emerged that Michael Jackson had died. Many rumours came about certain leaders which never could be proved but when a rumour was told again and again, it automatically gained authenticity!
Fast forward to the iphone age... Literally at our fingertips, information is just a few swipes away. And yet the uncertainty of certain information still lingers.
First they would flash a sensational news, something so ridiculous that it is simply impossible to be true. Then more lay people will vouch for it in the social media with 'documented proof'. It would followed by hue and cries asking for first blood. Only then, people in authority and some kind of stature to know the situation would break the ice (awake from slumber?) to say something akin to 'harsh action would be taken. No stone would be left unturned. We will investigate!' And they would recoil into their snoozing position again.
By then some other soul would say that the sensational news was no new news but had been going on for eons under the noses of the higher authorities. Then the social mob would whine that the standards have gone to the dogs. Along the way, racial remarks would be hurled.
In the meantime, the spokesperson would appear to say that he was misquoted. In spite of all the advances in recording and audio equipment and presence of journalists who can speak more than one tongue, and the ability to retrieve old recording, misquotation is quite a rampant phenomena. By then the excitement of the news would wane. People would slowly accept the fact the country had indeed gone to the dogs. They would talk about emigration but they would not as they cannot fathom the idea of not able to eat their much craved 3am roti telur at the Mamaks' in Adelaide!
And there will roll in yet another more ridiculous story that would sweep the former under the carpet. And life goes on...
Isn't it ironic? After all these years, uncertainty still prevails. Maybe it is meant to be that way. Man become agitated and uncomfortable with uncertainty. All his primitive bad responses like suspicion and jealousy would surface. This would make it easier for the leaders to control, play with their emotions and have some kind of horizon to work to even though they know that the horizon is just a mirage that never ends.

They broke down Paradise and put up a parking lot!*

*Lyrics from Joni Mitchell's 'Big Yellow Taxi'

It is said that India is the only country that did not persecute its Jews. It is said to be ever embracing other cultures without making compulsions. The Indian civilization view every moment of time of a lifetime as a continuum, a figment of time, a drop in the proverbial in the ocean of milk a.k.a. Milky Way. People may come and people may go.
Civilizations and conquerors spring and dissipate but Mother Nature drags on through space.
This analogy is succinctly depicted in the history of Mauritius. The inhabitants were leading a peaceful life with their dodo birds and forest. Life was peaceful and the equilibrium was maintained under the auspices of Mother Nature.
Civilizations decadent of their own doings, full of disease and ill intentions had to escape their shores, like roaches escaping their hideouts after a whiff of insecticide, started crawling to their shores. Stories like these are too far too many to be unfamiliar. It happened in Surat, Cochin, Pondicherry, Macau and Hong Kong as history dictates.
For years, Mauritius laid bare uninhabited to be used by Portuguese seaman as a stop over in their exploration out into the Far East. Then came the Dutch who laid claim on the island, squandered all the ebony and killed all the dodo bird just because it was so easy to kill these stupid birds. (I wonder why Dodo Cheng picked this particular bird for her name and not parakeet or peahen which were more aesthetically pleasing?)
The Dutch introduced sugar cane which were brought in from Batavia together with slaves brought from Madagascar and Chinese convicts from Bencoolen.
Mother Nature, with wrath in her path, retaliated with a series of life threatening cyclones. Then, the slaves staged a mutiny. The Dutch found that the Chinese were bad collies, prone to retaliation. Thinking that the island is jinxed, they abandoned post.The French moved in where the Dutch left. More slaves were brought in to work in their sugar cane plantations. They 'culturise' the workers with the French language and culture. After losing the war to the British and the Paris treaty in 1821, the island was annexed to them. The British promised the locals not to disturb the local language and practice. By then, the French culture had been imbibed deep in their psyche. Furthermore many of them were running around with French genes. The British introduced indentured and bonded Indian coolies into this land to work on their vast sugar cane plantations as well as English language to run the country as trade was flourishing. The Indians made good workers. Due to restrictive British policies and economic quandary in Bharat nation, scores of ships with human cargo ply the Calcutta-Madras-Mauritius route carrying cargo from Bihar, Tamil Nadu and Andhra Pradesh, predominantly.
Cut from their motherland, embracing into their newfoundland, they embraced various cultures that came along, a typical Mauritian today, Indian looking (55% population), can flip flop between languages (French, English and Creole), play an important role in the administration and progress of their only motherland they know. Thanks (or no thanks) to Bollywood, their Indianness cannot be shed off. To complement their masala laced local cuisine, they have Bollywood masala stories and tunes!

When the going was tough, there is always HOPE

Voulez-vous?

இருநூறு ரூபாய்

Tea anyone?

Tamassa Hotel, Bel Ombre, Mauritius

Picture perfect

With the auspices of Lord Shiva Destroyer of Evil! 

http://peopleofindia1868-1875photos.blogspot.com/2013/07/indentured-laboursemi-slavesfrom-india.html