1816, the year without a summer

Chichester Canal by J. M. W. Turner (1828) [Wiki] 

In 1816, whilst Reverend Hutchings was busy organising things in his selfless deed to set up facilities for English education, free from encumbrances of religion, race, creed and socioeconomic statuses, for natives on a small idyllic island of Penang, Europe and the rest of the 'civilised' world including North America were undergoing turmoils of their own kind.
In April the year before, the volcanic mountain, Mount Tambora in Sumbawa, Indonesia after building up energy over the years, decided enough was enough. It spewed lava, magma, shock waves and dust of such devastation estimated to have had volcanic eruption scale of 7. It is said to be the most massive volcanic eruption in human history and is dubbed 'Pompeii of the East'. The devastation that it left can also be described as callosal. Not only was the immediate human and property loss was immense, but the ash from the outburst also lingered on in the stratosphere long enough to affect climate the following year. As is generally accepted, weather changes affect economic activities and indirectly be a cause of social turmoil.

It is puzzling how an event occurring at one end of the world has such a profound effect on the opposite end of the world. Globalisation is not a new construct.

The lingering ash provided a picturesque view of nature. The view of the sunset with its exaggerated orangy hue had never been better. The snow, on the other hand, was tinged yellow. The presence of high sulphur content in the rain and a wet, cold summer devastated food cultivation for a couple of years to come. It was the nidus of famines to come.

Hong Kong sunset circa 1992
after the eruption of Mount Pinatubo [Wiki]

In the present area surrounding Myanmar, rice cultivation failed. Farmers eventually discovered opium to grow well during those colder climates. By the time regular weather patterns returned three years later, they had abandoned their ancestral vocation but pursued with the new more lucrative crop. This must have started the notorious drug route.

In New England of Northen America, failure of crop forced farmers to migrate west. This must have eventually opened the Western frontier, the mad Gold Rush, spurred genocide of the Natives, starting of fringe Christian societies like the Mormons and just perhaps the idea of the abolishment of slavery must have taken root.

Over the literary side of things, it is said that the cold summers of London forced a group of writers to stay on the icy lakes of Switzerland to write scary stories with dark, nihilistic themes. This later evolved to Frankenstein and Dracula storylines. A new revolution in writing had started. Human imagination had never been the same since.

It is intriguing how a single event can give such seismic shift in the direction of the path of mankind. With the rapidly and unpredictably changing weather patterns of late, I wonder what awaits the human race? Is it going to be all doom and gloom and are we just going to take a detour and head in another direction? Just like how we have done so many times.

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It ain't heavy, it is my karma!

It ain't heavy, it is just my karma!

The debate that was always going through our minds throughout the expedition was the appropriateness of using the assistance of donkeys to carry our loads.

What we perceived as a constant sad donkey facial appearance donned with eyes accentuated by droopy eyelids and long fluffy eyelashes was a steady reminder that we had sinned when we signed up to allow these hapless docile, domesticated 'workhorses' to partake our trip. 

Contrary to what we, the lazy homo sapiens, branded these meek animals, they were anything but foolish, stubborn, fat or lazy. We were reminded of the phrases in our daily lives; stupid ass, lazy ass, fat ass, stubborn as a mule (which is genetically half a donkey), making an ass of oneself and ignorance. In a Tamil proverb, they were symbolically portrayed as simpletons, not able to appreciate the more delicate things in life. (A donkey cannot relish the smell of camphor; as traditionally donkeys were used by dhobies to carry soiled smelly clothes, they would not be able to recognise fragrances.)

Over the course of the trip, we convinced ourselves that life was not all doom and gloom for our Equus friends. They existed, hence they had to live. To survive, they had to be fed. They also belonged to somebody. In a somewhat symbiotic way, in a win-win situation, their labour generated an income for their otherwise hard-pressed owners. Our contribution in the monetary forms assures a square meal for both the animals and their owners. They could walk up with their heads held high that they worked hard for their living. They need not live on handouts.

No matter what the world thought of them, the jacks knew that their labour was not for nothing. Maybe they had not been given conscience, perhaps, as they served well, they may climb the karmic ladder to attain higher statuses.

The journey or the destination?

Boracay, The Philippines. © DKLA

Even though my cousin had spent time studying overseas, with umpteen times of flying in and out of the country, lately he has developed a kind of aversion (is it bordering to phobia?) of flying. Maybe it is because of his new passion for big bikes and motoring long distances. Whenever possible, he quickly jumps into his riding gears to enjoy the swooshing of the wind on his face and body as he cuts through space and time. The periodic gusts of intoxications must be addictive since, instead of flying to places when his family and friends want to spend their holidays, he vehemently chooses to ride there on Harley Davidson or BMW Superbike. He does not mind the inconvenience of having to leave earlier, the discomfort of being intimidated by reckless lorry drivers and the safety issues surrounding travelling along the long lonely road out in nowhere. Then he has to be at the receiving end of the fuss of cheeky border personnel who find pleasure in asking for the unheard and the uncertainty of road, the weather and vehicle conditions.

Still, to this, he replies, "Pleasure is in the journey, not just the destination!" The best way to learn about a country is to travel amongst and together with the commoners, not as shielded tourists who are shown the watered down and whitewashed version of the country, geography and history.

That is a metaphor for life anyway. Life is a journey with its undulating paths. It is sometimes smooth and sometimes stormy; still and restless. The joy is in curbing the troughs and the riding the peaks, the lows and highs. At the end of the journey, one can look back, give a sigh of relief, and re-live in the memories of the sights, sounds, smells, sweats, tastes and the experiences that no well-planned pleasure cruise can give.

Sunset at Boracay © DKLA 

A tree in the middle of the road? Guess it was there before the road come into existence!©FG

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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

Doggone life?

Credit: stress.org

You think you have it bad, working your butt day in and day out, dancing to the tunes of the loved ones around you and clowning to the antics of your potential clients. You were made to think that you are responsible for your mess. It is not proper for one to absolve himself of his misdeeds. It does not matter if the mistakes were made in the prime of youth when the heart control the mind and the sacral plexus were more dominant than the pre-frontal cortex. You reap what you sow, they say.

The demands of the modern world get too overwhelming. The pressure cooker lifestyle that you lead needed decompression. Your friends tell you to de-stress your life. Their mantra sings, "Lose your wife and reduce your stress by 50%; lose your Wi-fi for the remaining 50%!"

On top of the world, not looking,

without a care in the world! © EsKaySK

Then you tell yourself that you have to unleash from the chains of this proverbial dog's life; shooed, shied away and under-appreciated even though you treat your loved ones as God.

© FG

You go incognito in pursuit of peace of happiness in the company of you and yourself, losing your wife and Wi-fi conveniently. You scale the high mountains and knee-deep snow seeking serenity and solace. You reach the pinnacle, you are mesmerised and humbled by Nature's creation. You lose yourself in awe but what do also see? Lying at the edge of heaven without a care in the world, basking in the crisp sunlight, eyes closed in forty-winks with a sly smile on the side on its little lip are bushy dogs who seem to have found permanent residence in Triund, about 2000 metres above sea level.


Then, it strikes you. A dog does not have a dog's life! Human chooses to have a conniving rabid-like environment around him. He thinks that by creating such a hydrophobic atmosphere, he achieves much. Conversely, the dogs take it lying down.

The world that you create depends much on yourself. A dog's life, a godly one, a being always on the move or to just take things lying down - pick your choice. The world is your oyster. You are given one life, only one. Use it wisely.

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My word, look at the similarities!

Plato, in the book Republic, suggested that the state should be ruled by philosophers. But he also mentioned about groups of people attuned to different classes to do different duties for the upkeep of the nation. In modern times, these ideas may not be politically correct as it is not good virtues that spins the modern world, but rather, stashes of money. In the 21st century, conformity of the majority to the whims of the 1% goes a long way in keeping order but not peace and definitely not law. Creation of just wars seems to the calling of the century whilst the powerful maintain their stronghold on the hapless majority.

Harimandhir Sahib, was given the golden feel to the pre-existing temple by Maharajah Ranjit Singh. He has the honour of being the only power defeating the Afghanis. He created Punjab, ruled over Kashmir and Afghanistan. His royal regalia included the coveted Koh-i-Noor diamond which was snatched from the Persians who had looted it from Andhra Pradesh. The priceless gem was allegedly 'gifted' to Queen Victoria. The Brtish monarchy since had been shamelessly exhibiting their loot on their crown. The top tier of the temple is of solid gold, the middle tier is gold plated and the bottom is made highest quality marble. ©FG

These were some of the things that went through my mind as I was walking around the holiest shrine of professors of the Sikh faith. What started as a discontent to the discriminatory practices of the Hindus, Guru Nanak and his band of followers went wandering in search of the meaning of life. Through his journeys to the valleys of knowledge and meetings with mystic figures, with the help of poems and music, they attempted to put in words, perhaps how life should be lived. He and the holy men after him strived to find the reason for our existence.

The one-eyed warrior.

Maharajah Ranjit lost the vision of his left eye due to infancy

smallpox. His mother was behind many of his successes. ©FG

For a certain time, things were hunky dory. The invaders of the continent were inclusive in their outlook and engaged in finding commonalities amongst religions rather than exclusivity. Mishap befell this idyllic region. As the national coffers dried up with over-indulgence into extravagance, new taxes reared its ugly head. Division along religious line cracked open. Jiziya was justified on non-believers.

There was a need to protect the Sikh way of life which made a lot of sense to the people who believed in it; simplicity, equality, service, humanity, humility. compassion and servitude to mankind. The majority reeled behind faithfully under the banner of religion. They started identifying each other in an exclusive club which fell on five visible symbols. (5Ks- Kaccha, Kirpan, Kara, Kanga, Kesh).

The full splendour of the grandiosity of the aureum-hued building is visible at night. A sight to behold. The energy of gold and the positive energies of worshippers who throng with the purest of thoughts is set to awe believers and non-believers alike. Sadly, the cleanliness, orderliness and law-abiding spirit stop short within the perimeter of the pantheon. ©FG

The temple which fets the Grant Sahib, the key to the secrets of life floats in a pool of nectar. Legend has it that the wonder of the lake was discovered when many patients with skin diseases, including leprosy, had miraculous recoveries. Another tale tells of Amritsar being the place where one of Lord Rama's twins was injured by Lakshmana's arrows. Nectar (Amrit) was used to nurse him to health, hence the name. ©FG

The word, the knowledge, the wisdom is echoed in many religions as the divine entity called God.

(John 1:1 - In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.)

For a brand new start? Perhaps it unchains the guilt of their past wrong-doings? Is the stain of the soul permanent? ©FG

The guardian of the faith ©FG

No one needs to be hungry! ©FG

No easy feat, the promise of feeding round the clock. ©EsKaySK

Courtesy of the utter of the strong Punjab cows and the fertile plains. ©FG

Humbling service to mankind is the tenet of Sikhism. Whenever malady befalls, langgar (kitchen) is there. Earthquake, fire, tsunami, care of the homeless, you named it. Ironic that Britain, which can be squarely blamed for the many famines and death in India during their heartless rule, has mobile kitchens set up by British citizens of Sikh faith to feed its many homeless citizens. ©Bob Mann

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An evening of friendly fires at Wagah-Attari border!

The Indian side of the border.
A spanking new complex in the pipeline.

It is a daily affair, of public display of brotherly rivalry. The old wound of a state that was curved at will at a stroke of a pen.

As the sun sets, both nations remind themselves they are of one DNA but two divided by politics and religion.

It has become a ritual to irritate and provoke either side with their high flying kicking drills, the heaving of chests at each other and theatrical display of mocked emotions.

Even though similar ceremonies are carried at two other border towns, the one at the trunk road between two sister cities, Amritsar and Lahore take the cake. They share a strong bond. Maharajah Ranjit Singh who united the states in Land of Five Rivers (Punjab) and held the honour of being the only force in the history of mankind to tame the hill tribes of Afghanistan, made Lahore his capital and honoured his guardian religion by building a golden outlook to the Hari Mandhir to see it as the Golden Temple today.

Maharajah Ranjit Singh

The heat builds up under the evening sun on both sides of the fence. The heat on the Indian side, however, is more pronounced as youngsters and even visitors to Bharat Desh frolic in the revelry of forced nationalism and perceived animosity of kins. The blaring sounds of Bollywood music scream for the call of patriotism. On the Pakistani side, the tone is sombre as the nation built on the foundations of moderations of religion struggle to prove their purpose of existence. The Pakistanis commence the ceremony with doa. The scene is set for something akin to a shouting match; with multihued psychedelic, colour donning members of the Indian side of spectators who had thronged from near and far, amongst which many are foreigners anyway versus the green-white monotonous shade on the contralateral side.

Having an enemy serves a purpose.

Indians provoke their bhais with two figures that they do not like to be at the forefront of things. Two majestic looking female Indian Border Security Force (BSF) officers with full regalia march to the other end followed by another two with patrolling dogs. The Pakistani Rangers reply with male marchers. 

The fiesta-like atmosphere goes on with prodding on either side with cries of freedom - Bharat Mata Jai, Hindustan Zindabad and Vande Mataram until it ends with the ceremonial opening of border gates, lowering of flags and re-closure of gates. Understandably the yelling on the Pakistani side is muffled.

Moments before the lowering of flags.

For all you know, the two sides of the team (BSF and Pakistani Rangers) probably discuss their next day’s itinerary over masala chai as both their moves are well coordinated to the tilt.


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Swing at the New Leftist

Fools, Frauds and Firebrands, Thinkers of the New Left
Roger Scruton (2015, reprint)

I was always under the impression that the input from the academics and intellectuals is the one that is propelling the world forward in the right direction; averts hegemony by a certain group and tries to create a sort of utopia where fairness and justice is handed to all. With a single stroke of his pen, the author puts all these thoughts to the bin. He paints them all as troublemakers, who promised utopia but what they offer instead is dystopia, mayhem and destruction.

For a start, he defines the leftist as the group of people traditionally seated to the left to King Louis XVI, the despotic monarch whose reign ended with the 1789 French Revolution. The members of the Estate and Generals usually were placed to the left while the nobelties occupied the right. Of course, it is all perspective which is right or left depending on whether you are an audience in apalace or looking from the monarch's end.

It is a tough book to read. With the many name dropping and verbosity of the writer, he steamrolls most modern thinkers, if not all, as frauds. They speak in unintelligible speeches using meaningless jargon like in Orwell's 1984 Newspeak. They justify their assertions with absurd mathematic formulas.

The author systematically destroys intelligensias from France (Lacan, Deleuze, Badiou, Foucault, Sartre, Camus) Germany (Hegel, Heidegger, Habermas, Althusser), USA (Galbraith, Dworkin), Italy (Gramsci), British (Thompson, the Fabians) and the representatives from the former communist block (Lukás, Žižek). Even though communism has proven to have failed, these people are actually promoting communist ideology in a new approach where capitalism (the burgeious ideology) is portrayed as the bad guy out to destroy man's freedom and liberty. They failed to realise that these are very same idea as the right wingers (read: democratic process) have been trying to do over the centuries - to find law and order in society, to propel the human race to a higher level and the promise of a better future.

He praises the philosophers of the yesteryears, the Greeks thinkers and later  ones like Spinoza and Kant. The conservative side of politics has had something going. Unfortunately many misfortunes happened along the way and Man wanting to look at other ways of doing things have embarked on the leftist agenda. Even though, their economic models have repeatedly shown dismal results, they are hellbent to come out with yet other strategies to put forward their scheme!

A nice perspective of view from the other side.

Excerpt From: Roger Scruton. “Fools, Frauds and Firebrands.” iBooks.

“Whether it be the Palestinian intifada, the IRA, the Venezuelan Chavistas, the French sans-papiers, or the Occupy movement – whatever the radical cause, it is the attack on the ‘System’ that matters. The alternative is ‘unnameable in the language of the system’. Didn’t Paul Cohen prove the point?

As in 1789, as in 1917, as in the Long March of Mao, the Great Leap Forward and the Cultural Revolution, the work of destruction feeds on itself. The Event is ‘the void at the heart of the actual’. Fidelity to the Event means commitment to nothing. The windbaggery of Žižek and the nonsemes of Badiou serve one purpose, which is to turn attention away from the actual world, from real people and from ordinary moral and political reasoning. They exist in order to promote a single and absolute cause, the cause that admits of no criticism and no compromise, and which offers redemption to all who espouse it. And what is that cause? The answer is there on every page of these fatuous writings: Nothing. ”

“Leftist Newspeak is a powerful tool, not only because it wipes away the face of our social world, but also because it describes a supposed reality that underlies the genial appearance and also explains that appearance away as a deception. ”

“That feature of ideology has long been apparent. But exactly the same goal of hiding reality behind inviolable screens of words can be found in the mathemes of Lacan and Badiou, in the litanies of Deleuze and Guattari, and in the rhetorical questions of Žižek as he patrols the world in search of those who still possess the risible belief in the Big Other and who have not yet discovered that they don’t ex-sist.”

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