A many-splendoured thing?

Love and Loss

Author: Malachi Edwin Vethamani

Maybe life has an innate plan to trap individuals. In the spring of youth, when hormones are raging high, we make hormonal-linked decisions that decide our futures. Somehow, hormones control rational thinking. The prefrontal cortex that controls analytical thinking is hijacked by impulses. We take the plunge dazed like a drunk monkey, like a prancing horse with blinkers, head on like sacrificial lambs, only to realise that we are in trouble deep when the dirt (or blood) hits the ceiling.

The path into this journey called love stirs all the primal suppressed emotions. It lights up so many intoxicating feel-good emotions within us that we never knew existed. We are swept off our feet, the world is a utopia, and we only see goodness in everything.

Maybe nature wants us to sow our seeds far and wide; perhaps it is just its way to improve the selection of traits. We lose interest. We get bored with the same routine and want freedom. We yearn to break taboos. We itch to push the boundaries of what is allowed than what is not.

What is this thing called love? Is it the constant high one gets at the sight of loved ones? Is it a societal duty that one performs to complete one's existence? This fulfilment of obligation is gifted with particular added delights, which are the carrot-dangling enticements to lure mankind.

Is it trapping to entice providers for generation next? A contractual obligation in return for an experience of a lifetime? Is successful love one which stands the test of time even though the committed players cannot stand the sight of each other after long but stay for the sake of wanting to uphold the holy institution of matrimony?

Sometimes the nectar of love turns sour. Or perhaps, it meets an unplanned end. The spiralling falling out of love or losing love can be as devastating as the act of falling in. If a loss is already filled with avalanches of emotions, it must be made more difficult with the complexities of 21st-century love.

Prof Malachi Edwin Vethamani's latest collection of poems describes these emotions in simple yet meaningful words that leave a zing that lasts. Many of us will relate to some of the joy, frustrations, cynicism, the wisdoms of hindsight that all the experiences bring us. With the expert craft of a wordsmith, with economical use of vocabulary, he opens the door to a world of literary bliss. A good read.

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

Could be a page from Mahabharata..

Duvidha (Dilemma, Hindi; 1973)
Director: Mani Kaul

Watching this movie is akin to a voyeur spying upon his neighbour. The camera work is peculiar in that it sometimes takes shots of the face over a long period, sometimes only at body parts or inanimate structures. The scripts delivered are like rote reading without emotion, as one would hear a conversation at a distance. Nevertheless, these add to this presentation's exclusivity and an arty feel.

In a way, it reminds me of the story of Ahalya, found in Ramayana. Ahalya, the prettiest woman, carved out by Brahma, was married to an old sage, Gautama. Gautama is more interested in fulfilling his spiritual duties rather than spending time embraced in intimacy with his young wife. So, when the lustful Indra, the God of the skies, appeared in a split image of Gautama, the sex-deprived Ahalya performed by wifely duties willingly. Gautama had a premonition of all these, cut short his prayers and returned home to catch them in the act. Ahalya and Indra were cursed by Gautama. Ahalya turned into stone, only to have the curse reversed when Rama's foot brushed Ahalya, the rock, during his walk in the jungle. Indra was cursed to carry a thousand of his favourite pastime, vaginas. It was later changed to a thousand eyes.

Painting of Ahalya

This movie, based on Rajasthani folklore, threads along with a similar narrative initially only to resolve on a slightly different path. A pair of young newlyweds return home on a bullock cart. The wife wants to taste the succulent fruit of a giant tree. Despite being prevented from doing so by the husband, the one-track-minded girl plucks and savours the fruit. The spirit of the tree falls hopelessly in love with the enchanting bride.

The Cursed Lord Indra with a thousand eyes

The young groom makes it clear that his priority is to make money and will leave for work the following day. He would be home for the next five years. Seeing the husband go, the tree ghost assumes the form of the husband and lives with the wife. The spirit is truthful in confessing his intent and spills out his heart's content for her. The wife, incensed that her real husband is more interested in acquiring wealth, leaving her for years rather than spending passionate time with her, plays along. The ghost and the wife lived together in absolute for years. The husband returns at the end of five years only to find his wife in labour.

How he, his family and the community resolve this problem is the rest of the story, and it does not involve cursing and petrification.

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

Which is real and unreal?

Bliss (2021)

Director: Mike Cahill

This is one of the movies that one will either love or hate; get it, or it just passes by! I thought it was good. It helps the rest of the population not be affected by the complexities of a confused mind. 

Quite often than that, to the lucky ones unaffected by the hardship of modern living, it is sometimes how certain decisions should be made. And we cannot understand why the mentally ill repeatedly make wrong life decisions. They plunge continually into states of helplessness and hopelessness. 

Greg (Owen Wilson) is a staff in a call centre-like office. Even though his superior keeps calling him to the office, Greg is immersed in his own pencil drawing of his dream holiday villa. We gather that he is divorced. Even though everybody else is huffing and puffing, busy answering calls, Greg is in bliss, adding details to his drawing. 

When Greg finally meets his boss, he is shocked to find out he has been fired. Greg shoves his boss aside, and in a freak accident, the boss hits his head and dies. That is, everything became a blur. Greg finds his life going into a tailspin. He is confused. He does not know what is real, what is drug-induced, and what is hallucination. Who is that mysterious lady who keeps appearing and disappearing with yet another concoction to try? Why is the Universe keeps changing? At one moment, they are homeless and hunted like dogs in one instance and, in another, feted as great scientists.

To the uninitiated, this whole exercise is too confusing. If we scrutinise keenly, this entire imbroglio of severe mental illness could be akin to one floating around in a dream. Just like we become the leading player in our dreams and tend to do invincible outlandish feats, the sufferer is convinced that he writes the script of his role. There are no rules there; no holds barred. The trouble is that the audience and co-players do not share the same script. Hence, the clash.

Mental illness causes distortions of the mind. And the modalities to treat the sickness also bring in the same distortion to the mind, sometimes worse, bringing in disastrous outcomes. Sometimes, it makes us wonder. Is the illness worse, or is the treatment worse?

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

Civilisation does not equate to civility!

Civilisation does not assure civility!

So, what is it that makes someone great? Is he the one who has conquered all his animalistic desires and knows that his real needs are beyond the realm of physicality and materialism? This man seeks knowledge and is satisfied when the lock of the meaning of life and the hidden secret of the Universe is unlocked. Such a man is fiction. Nietzsche described him as Übermensch. Hindus referred to him as Rama or Krishna, the revised 2.0 version of a complex man. 

Javanese Trishul

Another version of understanding how life works is to look at Hinduism's representation of the Universe - Trimurti, the Trinity - Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva and their consorts. Brahma, the creator, has to work in tandem with his consort, Saraswati. Saraswati is the Goddess of education and creativity. The take-home message here is that to create anything; one needs to have enough knowledge and creativity.

Once the creation is done, life does not just go on unabashed. It has to be preserved and preserved well. To maintain this creation and look after it, one needs the brains, plus the resources for that. For this comes Vishnu, the divinity assigned for this purpose, who operates with his consort, Laxmi, the Goddess of wealth and prosperity. The point here is that to conserve any creation; we need affluence. Wealth is required to ensure the continuity of anything that we create. Maintenance takes money. And money begets money.

At the same time, to guard any property, one should have to power to destroy evil and negative forces. Human instinct is to usurp and squander. He will sleep until his material possession is more than his neighbour's. The guardian for this is Shiva, the dissolver (destroyer). Goddess Sakti or her manifestations Parvati or Kaali, the most ferocious form of divinity, is there to assist him in his task. To maintain the status quo and to keep one's possessions intact, he needs to have the power to destroy. Power is mandatory to stay in charge. Unstoppable rage is pointless. Shiva, by being the brake to unbridled violence, acts against the killing machine of Sakti.

One cannot go on destroying everything in sight forever like what the jihadists are doing. Nothing would be left to protect or protect for. Hence, the creation, preservation and destruction cycle needs to be repeated.

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

Never say never!

I guess a felicitation note is due for my partner in crime. This post is dedicated to his tenacious path to glory, paved with shrapnels of thorns, aches, pains, strains, and even fractures.

I met SK at a dinner party of a mutual acquaintance. That was more than 10 years ago. After the usual pleasantries, our conversation went to recreational running. He was intrigued that I ran, which, at that time, felt, to him, like a marathon. In reality, it was a mere 10km.

Fast forward, we, and a few friends, became weekend warriors. From 10, the distance becomes longer and longer. Then someone came up with the idea of doing the full monty, not the British type but the Phillipedes type - the crowning glory of running - a full marathon, the whole 42.195km of them.

When SK puts his mind to something, he puts his whole soul into the shebang. He would want to know all the nitty-gritty of the basics. He would not want any stone unturned to the extent of obsessiveness. Just like that, all the research landed his name in the annals of 1% of the world population that completed a full marathon.

Then some gang members with restless leg syndrome started toying with the idea of cycling. Like the children of Hamelin, everyone just played to the tune of the Piped Piper. So cycling it was. What started as an easy, relaxing 30km weekend ride morphed into gruelling 1000m climbs and diabolical six-hour rides in the heat of the tropical high noon. Then came the out-of-state and international rides. During one of those practices, SK received his badge of honour. He was christened a true cyclist after sustaining a clavicular fracture. He went on fine-tuning into the subtleties of road cycling until he became restless again. Perhaps, he wanted to realise his deep inner desire to make it to the 0.1% category of the population.

I guess that was when the talk of swimming started floating (pun unintended). After having two near-death experiences in the domain of Neptune, yours truly gave a pass. I tried to venture into playing a musical instrument instead. That is another story for another day.

Many group members put one foot into the water, but only SK, with his compulsive desire to beat the waves and re-wire his survival instincts to connect with prehistoric ancestors; from a non-swimmer, he grew fins to fight the choppy waves of an open sea.

This has been the story of SK's journey thus far. I can bet my bottom dollar that it is, by no means, the end of it all. He completed his Iron Man Competition. The echoes of SK's whining, grumbling and cursing still reverberate in everyone's ears. Do not be fooled. Like a parturient mother who screams, yells and pledges never to do it again but sheepishly presents at her Obstetrician's office before the baby can walk, with yet another pregnancy, be forewarned. SK may turn up again with another crazy venture.

Congratulations, my friend! Keep the flame aglow and keep the fire burning. Cheers!

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

A US propaganda movie

Top Gun (1986)
Director: Tom Scott

I never really had the chance to view this movie when it came around in the mid80s. My wife and her friends went gaga watching a topless and muscular Tom Cruise and Val Kilmer on that one. I think that was the reason they thought the film was darn good.

Viewing it now after acquiring the wisdom conferred by the School of Hard Knocks of Life, it is quite as plain as day. The movie is nothing more than a US propaganda tool deployed by Hollywood to showcase the might of the world's policeman to the rest of the capitalistic world. It was like Rambo singlehandedly ending the Afghan War in Rambo3. It was a time when the world was convinced that Americans were saviours with altruistic intentions. 

There is not much of a story here. It is more like a prospectus to showcase how an elite select group of US Marines are handpicked to compete in a fighter jet dogfight tactical competition. 

All through, I was squeezing my brain, trying to fathom the purpose of their whole exercise. It reminded me of 'Mortal Combat' and 'Street Fighter' or even 'Grand Theft Auto' where there were no rules and no holds barred. The idea of young elite fighter pilots competing all out, risking their lives for the coveted plaque, was diabolical. 

A little background search reveals much more than meets the eye. During the Vietnam War, the US Army found that despite possessing primitive equipment, their enemy was a tough nut to crack. The Vietnamese had built an effective air-to-air missile and anti-aircraft gun-based defence system with their small number of modern jets. The Americans relied on missiles and technology. The Americans soon realised the importance of fighter vs fighter or dogfighting tactics. The US Navy Fighter Weapons School was later established. This movie was filmed at the Naval Air Station in Miramar, California. 

We know who the intended villains are. Who else uses MiG fighter planes?

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

When I grow up...

Right, I am a millennial and a proud one at it. This is how I look at my values. These decrees are updated periodically, validated and eventually cast in stone by my contemporaries via social media pages. The toolkit is broadcasted far and wide for all to bow in obedience, hoping to achieve a New World Order with all netizens thinking in one single unwavering frame of thought.

Paradoxically, I am supposed to think of myself; but only about myself. It is only me that mattered. The others are here to help me out. After all, what are people for if not to help the others around? Whether I will help others does not come into the equation, as I must first take care of myself. After all, I have only one life -me. I am not going to give this up for anything else. I have to explore the extent of my true capabilities.

It is not my fault that I think I must not fail in my every endeavour. Do not blame me for that. You were the first to praise me in my childhood whenever I bungled up. You still gave me a medal when I came out last in a competitive race. 

Filial piety, what filial piety? Is it not enough for me to deal with all the unsavoury traits you gave me, forever trapping me in your shadows? I cannot even take care of myself in this increasingly competitive world. No thanks to you too that my generation has to endure all the environmental degradation you gave us to mend. 

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