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akilsposts · 10 months ago

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Greater than a Medal...

The story of Vinesh Phogat is one of enduring resilience and an athlete's determination to overcome all the odds stacked against her. From being one of the faces of the brave protest against the sexual harassment faced by women wrestlers (including minors) at the hands of the then head of the Wrestling Federation of India and BJP MP, Brij Bhushan Charan Singh, to becoming an unceasing source of inspiration for innumerable people in this country, Vinesh Phogat has become a shining light in not just the sporting history of India but also among those fighting for a safe and better society.

The story is not unfamiliar to the world because the latest chapter of it unfolded at the Olympic Games which was recently held in Paris. The official version is very simple: Having fought through a draw that needed her to beat the defending Olympic Champion, the reigning European Champion, the reigning Pan American champion in each of her rounds, Vinesh had entered the final and was scheduled to face Sarah Hildebrandt of the USA before she was disqualified on the morning of the bout for being 100g above the permissible weight of 50 kg. Vinesh Phogat's disqualification meant that she would end up receiving no medals. However, it is the role of different sporting and political authorities of our country, and all the events that took place leading to the Olympic final that needs our examination as a concerned society.

The Indian Olympic Association (IOA), as is the case with any other sports-body in India, has long been a rubber-stamp that is invariably controlled by the ruling dispensations. The role of this body in this whole affair is suspect. That the alacrity with which it announced the disqualification of Vinesh Phogat from the competition was not shown in making an appeal against the decision has not gone unnoticed. Its President, P.T. Usha, has been quick to absolve her organisation from all responsibility in the matter and has covertly and overtly placed the blame on the shoulders of the athlete. The Sports Minister Mansukh Mandaviya, addressing the issue in the Parliament, stooped so low as to declaim about the money the government had spent on Vinesh Phogat's training. At this point, it should not be forgotten that it was this same ministry that had delayed in providing accreditation for Phogat's support staff including her coaches and physiotherapists. The snide and even belittling remarks following the disqualification and the barely concealed glee of many elected representatives of the ruling party point to the deep resentment that they had harboured towards Vinesh. However, the most noticeable was the silence of Prime Minister Narendra Modi following each of Phogat's victorious bouts leading to the final. It was very uncharacteristic because he has always been quick to bask in the reflected glory of the achievements of our sportspersons. It is unsurprising that his social media post after the disqualification was equated to the shedding of crocodile tears by the discerning public.

Vinesh Phogat's achievement can only be understood in its true proportions if we take into account the reason for her being above the permissible weight by a mere 100 grams. This is also the reason why she has been a thorn in the flesh of the authorities in our country. Phogat is an athlete whose normal weight is 55-56 kg. She usually competes in the 53kg weight category. However, she had to forgo all rigorous training during the phase of protest where she and fellow wrestlers and Olympic medalists Sakshi Malik and Bajrang Punia protested for many days and nights on the streets of Delhi at Jantar Mantar demanding the arrest of Brij Bhushan. Not only was she unable to train, she also had to undergo surgery to correct a lingering medical issue. In the meanwhile, the qualifying spot in her preferred 53 kg category was already taken by another wrestler. Fearing that the Wrestling Federation of India (WFI) would not allow her trials in the 53 kg category as retribution for her role in the protests, she appeared for trials in both the 53 kg and also the 50 kg. Subsequently, she qualified for the Olympics in the 50kg category. In a sport as gruelling as wrestling it is normal for athletes to gain and lose weight between matches. However, the very fact that Vinesh had to lose 5-6 kg just to compete in the Olympics, that too in a category that is not her preferred one speaks volumes about her determination and character. But, the very fact that she was forced to do all these is the result of the constant obstacles that were erected before her by the nefarious authorities, particularly the WFI which continues to be ruled by Brij Bhushan in all but name.

The story of Vinesh Phogat is compelling. She may have been disqualified for reasons beyond her control, and ones which are suspicious to say the least but she has, undoubtedly, won her greatest battle. She had famously proclaimed that she would happily sacrifice her career if it meant that countless other girls would get an opportunity for a safe working environment. She stuck steadfastly to the same goal going into this Olympics. She knew that it would be her last Olympics and that her career would be over but she wanted to fight for the women who would follow in her path. She was actutely aware that a victory at the Olympics, in front of the watching world would be the greatest slap in the face of a system that not only refuses to come to their aid but obstinately shields the criminals who wronged them. Needless to say, the authorities were also well aware of this. Yet, Vinesh's determination has inspired countless who celebrated each of her victories and wanted her to bring home the much coveted gold. The outrage and disappointment at her disqualification soon turned into a universal acknowledgement of the brave fight put up by this undaunted wrestler. If the rousing and heartwarming reception that she received on her return to India is any indication, Vinesh Phogat's and her fellow wrestlers fight has surely stirred the conscience of this country. This is important for a society that continues to stifle women's participation in not just sports, but all public activities. Recent events in our country are evidence that women remain unsafe in the present social atmosphere. It will be through unrelenting protests and collective activities like sports that we will achieve true democratization. Vinesh Phogat's role will forever be etched into the history of this struggle, for in a world where sportspersons and other famous personalities either openly endorse those in power or remain tight lipped to protect their own personal interests, she has fought the hard battle for a cause greater than an Olympic medal.

#Olympics #Wrestling #VineshPhogat #India

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akilsposts · 11 months ago

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Understanding Sports in a Capitalist Society

Sports, in today's world, is a cultural phenomenon that can only be matched by few other forms of entertainment. Driven by global capitalism, it is a 512.14 billion dollars worth industry with an immensely powerful influence over popular imagination. Mega sporting events like the Olympics and the Football World Cup are watched by millions across the globe. Sportsmen and, less so, women are showered with such adulation and placed upon elevated pedestals in all societies. They become role models to impressionable young minds who fervently wish to emulate the lives of their chosen heroes. However, even amidst all the projected glitz and glamour, the dark side of sports is also all too apparent. Rampant use of performance enhancing drugs, legal and illegal betting, fixing of games and matches, often vicious and violent fan cultures, national or parochial jingoism, racism, sexism and sexual exploitation are only some of the problems that constantly plague modern sports. It also faces a unique conundrum: of being an industry that is driven by profit hungry and decadent capitalism, but having to maintain a veneer suitable to a mass cultural activity which promotes many ideals like fair play, team work, discipline, respect, inclusiveness etc. in addition to the physical well-being of its practitioners.

The bases for modern sports and also all forms of traditional games lie in the human capacity and need for play. The earliest records of games date back thousands of years with some of the oldest examples coming from ancient civilizations in Egypt, Mesopotamia and China. All of these games are marked by certain similarities despite the differences in their places of origin. These games were ritualistic and were often part of celebratory festivals. In many cases, these games marked the transformation from boys to men and were also used to determine and exhibit the physical capabilities of the participants, often for their induction into armies. It was these games which later developed into much bigger spectacles like the Olympics in Greece and the ones like those held in the Colosseum in Rome. With the evolution of ancient nation states, as in Greece, the participants were competing for something greater than personal glory. The advent of the major monotheistic religions played an important role in reducing the bloodshed associated with games, particularly in Europe. However, even these religions were conscious to retain many games as part of religious festivals. Throughout the history of sports, one of the most striking aspects is that women were banned from sporting activities almost universally, at different points in time. While there are records of women competing in ancient games in Greece and Rome, much of the records about women's games are those about private recreational affairs which had little or no social standing.

It can be argued that it was capitalism which gave birth to many of the modern sports, in their forms and later their administration. As mentioned, in a feudalist economy divided and segregated on various lines, it was natural that sports were also segregated. As is the case with many other things, the British Islands were the venue for the development of many modern sports, and also some important aspects of modern sporting culture. Capitalism, and the industrial revolution which it spawned not only liberated the industrial workers from many social handicaps but also provided them with a free time that was absent under feudalism. Not only did sports emerge as one of the activities which the industrial workers frequently engaged in, it also quickly became an important mass activity. Industrialisation also provided the masses with something else that was not available in feudalism - a dispensable income. This income was spent on, among many other things, sports in the form of spectator fee but also for gambling. In fact, the need for codifying the rules and thereby the need for regulatory bodies which decide the rules were born from a social need for providing uniform standards for betting and gambling. It was yet another British formulation that shaped the perception about sports for ever more, in an important way. Education had become more wide spread during the 19th century. The growth of public schools had played a significant role in increasing access to education for all. Educationists like Thomas Arnold, Thomas Hughes, Charles Kingsley, Archibald Maclaren and others amalgamated sports and physical activity with education. They believed that sports would help in inculcating courage, moral qualities such as fairness and sportsmanship, teamwork, perseverance and leadership and responsibility, in addition to the physical well being and development of students. These ideas, disseminated through the education system became so associated with sports that, even professional sports aspire to adhere to them even to this day. It was these ideals that would inspire the creation of the modern Olympics movement and other similar endeavours.

Later, it was colonialism which took many of the European sports to different parts of the world. For the colonials, sports was a means of entertainment. At times they used to engage the natives in this activities too. The spread of colonial education was an important factor in the dissemination of European sports within colonies. The Europeans saw the teaching of sports as important in inculcating in the natives the same set of ideals that were intended in the public schools of Britain. Naturally, they saw the value in development of such ideals in the natives in relation to the continued existence of the colonial system. In many countries the natives took to the sports with such enthusiasm that certain games became intertwined with their national identity. Football in Latin America and cricket in the Caribbean islands are two examples of this. In many ways this resulted in the reinterpretation of sport's position in the society. In many of the former colonies sports and sporting institutions became associated with progressive social and political causes. A case in point is the Corinthians Football Club in Brazil, which has always been known for upholding many socio-political causes throughout its history. There are similar institutions in many countries across the world. It should be noted that this phenomenon is not limited to the former colonies alone.

In this age of moribund capitalism, sports faces many challenges as a mass cultural activity. This is reflected in the many contradictions that govern sports in today's world. As mentioned, the proponents and even the administrators of different games continue to affix certain values and ideals to sports. These ideals were born during a time when the capitalist system was robust and when education was seen as a process that would enable the development of humans into mentally and physically capable beings. Compared to its heyday, global capitalism is presently engaged in not only squeezing out profits from all socio-cultural institutions, activities and relationships, it is also cautious about the diffusion of progressive ideals and values through mass cultural activities. In fact, capitalism in its present form has vitiated all such activities like movies,arts and other forms of entertainment. The immense potential of sports to serve as a medium of progressive change is an aspect that the administrators of the games are well aware. This is exactly the reason why they go to great lengths to portray sports as a cultural activity that is devoid of the influence of politics. In fact, the administrators have put in place multiple measures to ensure that sports is not used as a platform for political expression and positioning. A prime example of this happened in 1968 Olympics held in Mexico city. In the 200 m men's final ceremony Tommie Smith and John Carlos who had won gold and bronze respectively each raised a black - gloved fist and bowed their heads during the playing of the American national anthem. This act was a symbol of protest against discrimination and injustice faced by African Americans in the United States and it became an iconic image of the civil rights movement. The protest was met with controversy and backlash with many criticizing Smith and Carlos for bringing politics into the Olympic games. The International Olympics Committee (IOC) suspended them from the US team and banned them from the Olympic Village. This is the case in other organised sports too. In contrast, the same administrators engage in all forms of unethical and immoral practices. In addition to the exorbitant amount of money involved in modern organised sports it is also marked by rampant corruption and other unethical practices. Rather than any values or ideals which they sing paeans about, the administrators of organised sports are guardians entrusted by global capital to ensure the seamless exploitation of sports for maximum profit. In truth, they have scant regard for any values and concerns of the common masses. For them, even a proud sporting institution which has steadfastly held on to certain values is just another pawn to be sacrificed in the game of business. The passion of the fan base is carefully exploited to serve vested interests. Under capitalism, as is the case with all other sectors, many historical but financially small sporting institutions have gone out of existence. Most are struggling to stay afloat but have to increasingly compromise on certain values that they have held on to for long. There are a select few mega-rich institutions run by powerful consortiums or very wealthy individuals who currently dominate not only in the actual games but also in the administration of the sports. In short, the administrators have no qualms about 'politics' in sports when the interests of global capital are concerned.

Dangerously, knowing full well about the passions involved among the followers of sports, the powers- that-be are involved in carefully fanning the divisions between fan bases. This can be between two clubs within the same city, inter-city rivalry or even national rivalries. To understand this clearly, one only needs to follow the media in the days preceding a cricket match between India and Pakistan. The widespread use of war imagery and vocabulary only serve to further the already existing chasm between the two countries. Such jingoism is the lifeline of vested interest in both the countries. They wish for a constant division between the people, a situation which is completely at odds with the capacity of sports to unify people.

Sports in India

The scenario of sports in India is not drastically different. However, there are a few things to consider. In India too, there are many traditional and native games which exist to this day. Many of these are also associated with rituals and customs, religious and otherwise. As it was elsewhere in the world, these games were also divided on the lines of class, religions, caste and race. These divisions continue to exist to this day. It was under British rule that Indians were introduced to European games like cricket and football. Much like elsewhere in the colonised world, these games have supplanted traditional games. In addition to being the games of the colonisers, these games, at least theoretically, were not tied down by religious or caste differences. In fact, cricket has become so popular that the country's huge market has virtually allowed the BCCI, the national governing body, to become the most powerful cricketing organization in the world. In extension, it is cricketers who are deified in the country and command most of the screen time through innumerable advertisements. It is no wonder that powerful politicians are very keen on inserting themselves or their people in influential governing bodies in cricket. The sporting scenario is so skewed in favour of cricket that even global games like football suffer from neglect. The less said the better about the not-so-popular sports. This brings us to an important question. Why does a country of India's size and resources perform so poorly in global events like the Olympics or cannot put together a decent football team that can at least qualify for the World Cup? The answer lies in certain peculiarities of Indian society.

Unlike in the European countries, democratic revolutions in colonised countries including India, were 'half-baked'. This essentially means that much of the democratic principles and values which could be established in European countries during the heyday of capitalism remain unfulfilled in the colonised countries. Capitalism, in its decadent state, is bent on draining the last remaining life out of everything in this world inorder to not just make profits but also survive. Neither the colonisers nor the Indian capitalists who eventually succeeded them were interested in the Indian society attaining true democratic principles and rights through a revolution. In fact, they were downright scared of the possibility. This can be seen all through the nationalist movement wherein the prominent trend backed by the Indian capitalists were involved in arranging for a transfer of power by compromising with all the regressive feudalist principles that were prevalent in the society. Therefore, even as India emerged as a modern democracy, much of its outlook remained feudalist. The half-baked nature of the democratic system that came in place extended to all fields. In place of a public education system that could foster a national sporting culture, sports in India remained categorically elitist. In fact, it was only recently that even cricket moved beyond the confinement of cities. Even that was the result of the capital-driven Indian Premier League searching for new talents to further their profits rather than any efforts on the part of the government! Unfulfilled democratization has also meant that an Indian society that had remained segregated on the lines of religion and caste before the independence, has largely remained the same, without much change even today. Individuals of the so-called lower castes, even today have little or no access to organised sports. Forget proper training, even participation is a luxury in most cases. They are not allowed to participate even in many traditional games played in different parts of the country. This is true of women too. A country with a defined national sports culture, even in a capitalist society, can offer some means for participation to all members of society irrespective of their class of origin. Sadly, the half-baked democratic revolution has left Indians with not even such options.

Solution to this Sporting Malaise

It can be safely said that sports need certain conditions to fulfill its vast potential as a socio-cultural activity. Undoubtedly, there should be a sporting culture that should be inclusive. This inclusive sporting culture can only survive in an atmosphere that nurtures it with all the support. Being inclusive is also very important in manifold ways. This inclusivity does not only mean providing access to all, it should also mean inclusiveness as a culture. Whereas global capital encourages a sports model which results in hero worship of sportsmen and also a culture that inadvertently encourages violent fan behaviour and racism, an inclusive sports culture must make sports a general culture of the common masses. Rather than the deification that is most common in fan culture, all should be encouraged to take part in sports, thereby removing the focus on a select few. While it is true that the ideals that are generally upheld are from the nineteenth century, it should be remembered that those ideals are not outdated but it is the results-oriented/profit oriented culture promoted by capitalism that makes it difficult for sports to remain ethical. There is a line of thought that sports can never be free of such vices because of its inherent nature of competition. However, what is often forgotten or conveniently covered up is the fact that sports is inherently a collective activity. It is this sense of collectiveness that essentially needs to be harnessed. This can take place only in a society where state fund replaces private investments. The USSR, while it existed, had to a great extent addressed and found solutions to all the issues that are raised about sports. USSR, right from its inception had adopted an education policy that incorporated physical exercises and sports as part of school curriculum. The results were tangible and immediate. From a society that was considered the 'sick man of Europe', Russia transformed itself to a sporting powerhouse. Not only did the USSR dominate the medals tally at the Olympics, Sovier athletes had set many world records in different events. However, it was the transformation of the common masses that was the most astounding. There was an annual Physical Culture Day celebration held in August every year since 1939. School sports groups were organised in all types of schools under the guidance of the local educational authorities and the Committee of Physical Culture and Sport. 5000 children's sports schools at which they may practice any of the "Olympic" sport was open for adolescents aged between 13 and 18. At one point in time, children accounted for 43 percent of the country's regular athletes. There were sports societies which were the principal form of athletes association. In 1972, the 29 sports societies in the country had a combined membership of 2,50,00,000. These members could pursue the sport of their choice and use facilities, equipments and guidance of coaches free of charge. Major cities like Leningrad, Moscow and Tbilisi had special research institutions to work out and test new methods of training. The USSR was also an exception when it came to women's participation in sports. It was the one society which actively encouraged women to take up sports and devised policies that enabled women to engage with sports and contribute as much as men. The extent of the impact of Soviet policy and it's implementation on the society is best summarised by the following observation made by Idrottsbladet, a reputed Swedish sports publication. They had written this in 1942, at the peak of Soviet Union's war against Nazi Germany: "One of Hitler's mistakes was his ignorance of the spirit of Soviet sport and its strength."

Therefore, the need of the moment is a transformative sports movement that is financed by public funding. It is also clear that centralised state planning is the most feasible way to reap the benefits of sports. However, what is also clear is that myopic capitalist states can no longer fulfill such a role. The world over, we are at a juncture where sporting administration, however reluctantly, are beginning to accept and encourage women's participation in sports. Much of this has to do with the fact that it opens another avenue for global capital to invest. Women as participants and audiences remain largely untapped. However, as it is with most socio-cultural activities, there are unforseen repercussions for global capital and patriarchy even as it encourages women sports. Women's sports have proved to be much more inclusive. Such trends need to be identified and encouraged to hasten a democratization within the society.

Therefore, it is up to the enlightened masses to form their own sporting societies which can build up to a robust sporting culture which will eventually change the society. In fact, such movements can be precursors to the inevitable socialist revolution, which alone can lead to sports accomplishing its true potential.

#sports #anti capitalism

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akilsposts · 1 year ago

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In Life, In Sickness and In Death...

There are some people who leave an indelible mark on your life. While it would be futile to say that we as individual entities are the product or handiwork of a single person, it is no stretch to state that there are some people about whom we can confidently affirm, "I wouldn't have been here, if not for them!" Today, I lost one of those people.

At the age of thirty three, when I still have more regrets than any sense of accomplishment, there are still a few things I feel proud about. It is in the accomplishment of these few things that I am most indebted to comrade V. Venugopal. Venu maaman, as he's affectionately called by most of the younger generation whom he brought up with the utmost care, left his mark on me while helping me achieve those few things that I genuinely count as my accomplishments.

I have known Venu maaman for a long time: twenty seven years is how far back I can stretch my memory. However, for long he had remained as someone I only knew and occasionally saw. I knew him as one of the important leaders of SUCI(Communist) and someone who lived in Ambalapuzha, and as someone who brought up a battalion of children. I would also see him at the Children's Camp organised by Prachodana which was held every year during the summer holidays. These camps were memorable affairs, not just in themselves, but also because this battalion of children were there without fail. They were all talented, verbose and most things that I was not. Naturally, I found them fascinating. Looking back, and of course in hindsight, they were my first gateway to the personality that was Venu maaman. Yet, I don't remember having a single conversation with him. That was until I turned 16. In the summer of 2007, my mother 'volunteered' me and my sister for a 'camp' in Kannur. She did not know that it would change our lives forever. (Neither did we). The usual battalion was present. There were a few others too. The one week we spent in Kannur, collecting funds and practicing a street drama which was presented at the farmers' agitation in Wayanad is marked in bold letters in the pages of my mind. The organisation which we became a part of, Komsomol - the league of young communists, became our organisation. It was in the course of formation and development of this organisation that I came to really know Venu maaman. Unlike the Children's Camp, the Komsomol camps and classes were by and large conducted under his direct supervision. It was through these camps and classes that we were inducted into the philosophy of Marxism. Venu maaman used to personally take many of these classes, or used to make the concluding talks for many topics. I found his speeches profoundly enlightening. I did not understand them fully at the time but there have been times later in life when I could see many aspects from his speeches come true. It felt like the future was being predicted. Needless to say, it not only increased my confidence in the philosophy that Venu maaman was trying to impart in us but also my confidence in his leadership. However, most important to me was the sense of belonging that was slowly starting to sprout inside my mind. Till then I had lived my life with a feeling that I did not belong anywhere. The gnawing insecurity had contributed much to the lack of confidence and a weak character. It was through the activities of Komsomol, under the guidance of Venu maaman that I first truly felt that I was in a place that I wanted to be and that I was doing something that I wanted to do.

Nonetheless, being the person that I was, I had to go away and make more mistakes and learn a few things on my own before I could make my way back to Venu maaman and his guidance. For this, I'll always be grateful to comrade Aparna. It took some amount of coaxing and nagging on her part for me to finally approach Venu maaman with my thoughts and concerns. Being a private person who was open with only a few people in life, it was very difficult for me to go to Venu maaman with my problems. Even more unthinkable was the thought of speaking about them. Therefore, I did not do that. Instead, I sent him a letter. He addressed my issues when I visited him later. I repeated this process once more. Later, once when I told him I had something to tell him and that I would write, he insisted that I speak and not write. That was one more odd to surmount but he made sure I did.

Venu maaman was the perfect guide: tailor made for me, or so I would like to believe. He listened to my concerns but did not hand out any solutions. Instead, he laid out an approach and left me to find my own solutions. Again in hindsight, I realise that was an essential process. Handing out solutions would have been easy for him to do but by laying out an approach he was allowing me to chart out my own thought process and make my own mistakes. For someone who was very limited in making decisions on my own, all these were important and essential steps of a process. This continued all the way till he could no longer do it physically. In the meantime, he and comrade C.K. Lukose imparted enough lessons for me to trust the leadership of the party and to develop a dialectical relationship with the organisation.

It was a surprise when the party listed me among the volunteers entrusted to care for Venu maaman when he became bedridden. I did not feel I could do justice to what was being asked of me. However, I am glad that I was chosen because each time I came for my turn, I learned something new. Many of these filled me with wonder and awe, including about his intellectual capacity. Yet, the most beautifully striking thing that stood out for me was that even amidst episodes of memory lapses, each and every thoughts of his were about the party and its well being. In extension, each of his thoughts were for revolution. In sickness, he was imparting important lessons.

Venu maaman's death was not totally unexpected. However undesirable the thought, there was a feeling that it was slowly creeping up on him. He was small in death. His body had emaciated very much. Yet, as he lay there, I was again struck by how death has only served to make him even bigger. There were raw emotions at the loss. There were tears shed for the immense loss the society has suffered. There were lots of people. The old who could barely stand. The young who could not and would not hold their tears. Comrades of many years. Acquaintances few meetings old. The renowned who had shared many a distinguished stage. The poor and the struggling masses who had fought and won under his command. Friends and doubters. Supporters and opponents. They were all united in their conviction that an individual of barely believable qualities had passed away. In death, he was teaching us what boundless love could achieve.

Even as I say this, I am acutely aware of many of the limitations that are holding me back. It would be a lie to say that I have unwaveringly stuck by all that Venu maaman has imparted. I have wavered, at times more than others, but now I can confidently say without any reservations that I am in that place and station in life that I belong. For someone reluctant to show my love, I have seen what I stand to lose by not sharing it. Even more, I realise I simply have to love more and more, and then some more. Of course, I continue to make mistakes but I believe I have a process to fall back on and correct myself. The path ahead is illumined but how I tread it will depend on my realisations. Now that I have looked back, it has made me realise that comrade V. Venugopal has left an even greater mark on me than I had thought. All these have also made me realise that he remains with us, no matter what. In life, in sickness and in death. Red Salute comrade V. Venugopal!

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akilsposts · 2 years ago

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Many Monsoons Ago

He looked at the ominously dark clouds that formed a thick wall which extended as far as the eyes could see. The sight sent shivers down his spine. Memories stirred deep within his soul as long forgotten images flashed across his mind's eye. He watched as the slow pitter patter on the aluminium roof turned into a steady pounding. His heart thumped in his chest as the cold air wrapped itself around him. The thin sprays of rain settled on his eye lashes. A slanting smile played across his lips as he closed his eyes and raised his face skywards.

He was walking along the rain drenched verandah. His steps, all the more careful as he placed one hesitant foot after the other on the slippery floor. He did not want to be the one to fall flat on his back. It was not so much the physical act of slipping and falling that he minded but the lame bantering that was obviously going to follow such a misfortune. His eyes searching for non-existent dry spots on the floor and his arms spaced out like a trapeze artist performing his most outrageous act yet, he was almost across the impossibly long wet stretch when twinkling laughter laid to waste the last ounce of his concentration. Like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights, he jerked his eyes upwards and into the obviously amused face that looked back at him. 'Aw! Not you too!' The unsaid words must have registered on his face, though, because the laughter was politely suppressed to a smile and then to a look of solemnity. Finally, after precious seconds where both struggled for equanimity, a hand was extended to him as a smile and an encouraging tilt of the head beckoned him forward. He felt his hand shaking before he actually saw it. Could he do it? Could he really hold the hand that was extended to him? Did its owner know what was going through his mind? Thoughts crammed his head as the extended hand twitched, and after what seemed like an eternity he watched it fall. The smile was faltering too. Not for the first time he cursed himself and dropped his eyes to the floor. He felt the soft brush of air on his arms as she stepped past him...

The languid smile played itself into a full throated laugh as he dwelt on the image of the timid boy. He looked down at his hands, his fingers curling into a fist as the laugh subsided and settled into the same languid smile. Traces of that timid boy lingered somewhere deep within him, threatening to creep forth in times of crises. No! He was past all that nonsense; he tried telling himself even when he knew better. Maybe, some day the timid boy would cease to exist. He unwrapped the tangle of blankets that covered him, and with one sidelong glance threw it atop the growing pile of soiled clothes.

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akilsposts · 2 years ago

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The Tigers of Bandipur

Elections were a funny business. His party had been ruling the state and were suitably discredited to warrant being dumped out of power. However, the biggest opposition party was so in opposition with itself that even he, the master campaigner, had a day off. Suddenly, he found himself with no bridges to inaugurate, no trains to flag off, no foreigners to share lingering embraces, and not even peacocks to play with. He had been in and around Karnataka for weeks now. If only it was Delhi, he could have arranged for a photoshoot atop the Red Fort. Feeling despondent, he was almost on the verge of a breakdown when a junior manager, eager to please, piped up,

"Let us do a photoshoot in Bandipur with some wild tigers."

The manager knew he was in for a promotion or at least a pay hike when he saw the 56-inches chest puff up with renewed determination.

Within no time, the 56-inches chest and its owner, and all his SPG were airlifted and dropped into the sweltering heat of Bandipur forests. What followed would have put to shame state-of-art Hollywood studios, as truckloads of shooting equipment were strategically installed. Powerful cameras capable of capturing the grandiosity of his perfectly groomed beard from as far away as 2 kilometres were set up all over the place. A few monkey families had to be forcibly evacuated from treetops as cameramen scrambled up tall trees and hung on for dear lives. A crane which was set up to hold a wide-lens camera frightened away all the deer in the vicinity. The forest officials were put to work as a few trees which obstructed the most ideal shots were pulled up by their roots! The security personnel took care of the rest. Everything was in place for the grand entry.

Our Hero had, in the meanwhile, dressed up in a chic get-up that would rival all the Khans of Bollywood. His costume team had clad him in designer khakhis, a wide brimmed hat, dark cooling glasses, and a binocular to hold. The jacket, a last minute, addition was his own idea. After all, what better way to beat the heat than a thick, old jacket! The cameras started rolling as the Bolero with our Hero emerged atop the hill. The driver had an unenviable job of stopping at all the pre-determined photo points, which was every two metres. The well-positioned cameras gobbled up his face and robust figure. The master campaigner played to an imaginary audience as shots after shots captured him in all manners of poses. There were even some which caught him waving at the trees! Fifty metres into the ride, the Director requested the Hero to alight from the jeep, walk to a nearby rock, and gaze through the binoculars into eternity. A young security personnel who was new on the team was about to remind that the cooling glasses needed to be removed for a clearer view, but was saved by a senior colleague who restrained him in time. Different angles were shot when someone noticed a problem. There were no animals in any of the photos! A security personnel was immediately sent into the forest cover. On receiving the go ahead, he raised his gun to the sky and let out a round of bullets. The gunshots startled all the birds from their perches, and they rose in unison to the blue skies. A well timed photo captured the perfect scene from behind our Hero. Basking in the attention, he had turned to find a photographer who was charmed by the birds and was still capturing them. The photographer was duly reminded in no polite terms of all the amenities in Tihar Jail. Suitably chastised, the photographer clicked on the camera like his life depended on it. Needless to say, all cameras were put to good use. As the photoshoot was drawing to an end, our Hero appeared increasingly disgruntled,

"Where are the tigers?" The tone foretold an impending tantrum.

The young manager, whose idea led to the day's proceedings, was a picture of devotion when he said,

"My lord, how can there be two tigers in one forest?"

The message was well-received. The implied tiger roared a self-gratified laugh.

"True, indeed!" It was a hot day well spent.

************

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akilsposts · 2 years ago

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Second Class

A second class compartment in a long distance train is full of stories. There, for some reason, people meet as strangers, share stories and opinions which they wouldn’t tell their therapists if they could afford one, and part on the most effusive terms though, in all probability they will never meet each other again. I like travelling second class because it costs a fraction of any other alternatives, and to watch all the stories being played out.

It was a particularly balmy day. I had boarded the train to Delhi and by some sheer play of probability, the person in the seat I was standing next to, got down at the following station. I occupied the seat with all the dignity and haste I could muster without so much as a glance at the multitudes around me who seemed to have been standing there forever. Only after I had situated myself as comfortably as I could did I take a look at those fellow passengers who were also lucky enough to rest some parts of their backsides on any part of the long seat. A man who sat next to the window smiled and nodded at me, as if he were congratulating me on my accomplishment. I returned the smile not simply because it was the decent thing to do but also because it was a smile that made you want to smile in return.

“Delhi?”, he asked.

I nodded and smiled once more.

“Most of us are going there too,” he twirled his forefinger around the coupe.

“Work?”, he enquired. I nodded because the real answer would require some length of conversation, something which I am disinclined to during the best of times.

“What do you do?”, he did not let up.

“I write,” I replied, because that was my only line of work that paid anything. I certainly did not expect the “Good for you” which he had delivered with some genuinity. Though I was preparing for a further barrage of questions, he had moved onto other passengers. It did not take long to see that he was the centre of power in that coupe. It was not that he controlled anything, but he had people listening to him when he was speaking and they addressed him while they were speaking even though all were part of the conversation.

I am not particularly fond of talkative people. Yet, there was something about him that put him outside my usual categorization. While he seamlessly carried conversations with all, he was also perceptible to the ebbs and flows of all replies. People appeared to want to share everything with him. He must have noticed my keen observation of him because he looked at me and smiled once again. I returned the smile.

“Delhi?”, I asked even though I knew the answer by then.

“Yes, I have a brother there,” he nodded as he spoke.

“I haven’t visited him in so long,” he continued without the prompting that I now knew he didn’t need. “He did come home last year but I haven’t seen his wife and my nephews in more than two years. Of course, they do call on Whatsapp, but it’s not the same, is it? He somehow appeared to be both distressed at the separation and pleased about the imminent reunion at the same time. By now, he was on a roll which meant he did not need any response to continue the conversation. “I studied there too, you know. But, I do not like living in big cities. It is like we are nobodies there.” Everyone nodded. I nodded too because I have precisely had that same thought many times. It was also the reason why I chose to live in big cities, because I like being a nobody. He must have misunderstood my smile because he nodded earnestly at me and said, “Who wants to be a nobody? Everybody wants to be loved and accepted.” There were more nods from everyone around. I had to agree with him.

He seemed satisfied as he leant back and looked out of the window. The sunlight cast his features in a shadow as he appeared lost in thoughts. All of us looked out of the window as the train sped past a regular dusty Indian countryside.

*----------------------*

The train had moved at a soothingly comfortable pace that had lulled most of the seated passengers into a discontinuous state of awareness that was neither in the realm of sleep or wakefulness. It bristled like a cat waking up from a nap as it chugged into a station platform. There seemed to be as many people on the platform, waiting to board, as there were people inside the train. Luckily, many passengers were deboarding too, including some from our coupe. Hearty goodbyes were exchanged. As the coupe cleared, a skull cap wearing father, a burkha clad mother, a young son and an even younger daughter moved to occupy the vacated seats.

“These seats are occupied,” said a gentleman who was seated across from me.

The children had already sat down.

“Didn’t you hear, those seats are taken.” It was a terse statement delivered in a manner that was strangely ominous. I felt something sink in my stomach as I stared at the man next to the window, who had said those words and whose features were now clouded by something ugly. I remained stunned as the father gently herded his children out the seats. The family remained mute as the seats were soon occupied by strangers.

Of course, I knew enough about my country. Nevertheless, to see it being played out in front of my eyes was unexpectedly harrowing. After I managed to regain some sense of composure, I looked up at the father apologetically and indicated that his family could have my seat. He shook his head almost imperceptibly, his expression seeming to suggest, ‘Why make it worse?’

I watched in a new light as the man next to the window made a meal of distributing some sweets he had taken out of a steel container.

“These are made from the best cow milk. You’ll not find anything to equal it anywhere,” he said loudly as he glared at the father. The steel container was passed around, neatly neglecting the family that was somehow in the middle. I am not sure if it was satisfaction or sadness that I felt as not even the little girl looked at the container, expecting it to be offered to her. When the container found its way to me, I could only shake my head.

“Eat. It’s the best,” said the man next to the window.

I could not bear to look at him. But he would not move the container. So, I looked at a spot somewhere above his left ear, and asked,

“Why won’t you give them?”I spoke softly, pointing at the children.

“Because they would rather eat the cow itself.” The reply was prompt. He was looking at me as if he was seeing me in a new light too.

“I hope you prefer the sweets.” His tone did not hide what he thought of people who did not meet his expectations.

“What do you care?” I was seized by some bravado.

“I care that my country remains united.” His tone had assumed a gravitas. Scarily, even as a maniac he was genuinity personified. Both of us continued to stare at each other, one sorely disappointed with the other.

All this while, the train had moved further towards its destination. At some station, the family left, taking all the hate with them.

“You know, that girl would grow up to be a terrorist.” The man next to the window was offering me a final chance at redemption.

“Why wouldn’t she?” I replied.

**********************************

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akilsposts · 2 years ago

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Research and Researchers: A General Plea

The events of the past week, pertaining to the controversy surrounding the thesis submitted by Chintha Jerome, the Chairperson of the Kerala State Youth Commission as part of her PhD, has made academic research a concern of the wider public like it rarely becomes. Opinions on the same have varied from studied criticisms to the inane. However, it appears that the discussions are now being guided by a dominant strain of thought; namely that the majority of the research being carried out in the universities in Kerala are either plagiarised, sub-standard or simply irrelevant. Discussions have also focused on how academic research is slave to the professional ambitions of the researchers, as prescribed by the existing vocational norms. Conversations have also centred on fellowships and how public money is being squandered on seemingly futile endeavours. Needless to say, it is the question of political patronage which aids such malpractices that have received the greatest attention. It is welcome that such discussions have finally found space in our society. Therefore, before this opportunity passes up, this writing hopes to represent some concerns of the same community that is presently facing flak from at least some quarters: the researchers.

Research is human civilization's collective foray into the unknown. Every step of advancement that human beings have made has involved the act of research in some form or the other. Research activities drive the quest for new knowledge by building upon and upgrading existing knowledge. Its role has increased manifold in modern times due to the multiplication in the branches of knowledge which occupy our concerns. Not only are new streams of knowledge emerging with each passing day, the evolution of technology has enabled us to revisit the old concepts in new light. The pace at which our understanding of the world is changing is staggering when compared to as little as less than fifty years ago. In such a scenario what should naturally follow is that research should enjoy unhindered patronage. Yet, reality leaves a lot to be desired.

Narratives that presume to rely on statistics might have one believe that India has significantly increased the number of PhD scholars in recent years. Successive governments have been at pains to portray these increased numbers as the product of their policies.

However, what is the reality?

As per the All India Survey on Higher Education 2020-21, the total number of students enrolled in PhD were a mere 2.11 lakhs. For context, it is only 0.51% of the total students enrolled in higher education. The ratio was barely different, ten years ago, in 2010-11. A paltry 22,550 students were awarded PhD in 2020. As for Kerala, only 8738 was the number of enrolment for PhD.

What is the relevance of these figures?

Amidst all the debate of the last week, there have been lingering suggestions that research has become a drain on the material wealth of the society. The perception is that society is paying beyond its means for incompetence, which is of no benefit to anyone. Yet, the aforementioned figures, if nothing else, is ample proof that research continues to remain a marginalised section of higher education in India. However, the most unreported and uncared for statistic is that a only a distressingly low 20% actually do not drop out and successfully hold out for a PhD degree. Just to emphasize, only 20% of the 0.51% of the total students enrolled in higher education in the country end up with a PhD! As far as scrutinies go, it is beyond time that those concerned for research pay greater attention to these figures and to the causes for such abysmal figures.

Research, by its very nature, is a social process. Therefore, its well-being and advancement is invariably dependent upon various factors, and not just individual researchers. However, it should also be remembered that researchers often exist in a state of uncertainty. The common public remains woefully ignorant about what exactly constitutes research. It could be argued that even parents who might be familiar with the educational structure up to even post-graduate level, are unfamiliar with research. Those entering research do so on their own volition. As such, they are almost always solely responsible for their academic pursuits. The experience often becomes a lonely affair even without any external issues. However, there is no shortage of issues in the research sector in our country. Lack of adequate funding, lack of quality research facilities, insufficient data, unsafe and abusive workplace environment, physical and mental stress, and discrimination faced by scholars on different counts are only some of the important issues facing the research sector today. One among the most discussed, yet often misrepresented aspects of research pertains to funds and fellowships. Whenever a case like Chintha Jerome's come under scrutiny, also brought to the forefront is an already existing perception that research scholars exploit a system that grants fellowship for their research activities by misusing the funds they receive. Once again, the reality paints a different story. The importance of funding for any research cannot be overemphasized. It is natural that research is dependent on sources of funding, public or private rather than on any individual income. In a country like India, with its vast disparity in economic resources, the role of public funding remains important for the survival of independent research. Yet, for all the talks about creating an atmosphere where research will flourish, the governments in our country have gradually and deliberately reduced the amount of money allocated to research activities.The amount allotted as fellowship in state and central universities remain miserably low. Barring a few institutions, fellowships are either given once in months or even years. With each passing year, the universities in our country contrive to eliminate more and more scholars from the purview of fellowships alleging the lack of funds. To put things succinctly, inadequate or total lack of funds remains the greatest cause for dropouts in PhD in our country. The situation is no different in Kerala. A combination of the aforementioned factors force researchers to either completely forgo their dreams of research or compromise on the quality of their research as they resort to alternate measures to make ends meet. Often, it is the question of funding that forces research scholars into taking up a particular topic. A casual survey would reveal this to be true as scholars prefer to become part of a funded project rather than choose a topic of their interest and suffer because of the lack of funds. This is especially true in case of research in science and technical subjects.

Yet another point of discussion doing the rounds is the seemingly absurd topics that are being selected for research, particularly in social sciences and humanities. The general contention is that these topics are of no tangible benefits to the society. There is an increasingly vocal argument that only research which is 'beneficial' to the society should be promoted and funded. If it was only research in science that was termed beneficial a decade or so ago, now, the definition for 'beneficial' has been narrowed down to mere technological advancements and research. We are soon becoming a society that cannot see the importance of research in pure sciences, and almost scoffs at research in the arts, social sciences and humanities. However, any serious student of the society will recognise the importance of research in these fields to any society that hopes for a holistic development. In fact, the intentions of policy makers who cast doubts as regards the importance of research in arts or humanities or social sciences bears examination. The usefulness or tangibility of research should not be judged superficially for the simple reason that even the minutest aspect of our socio-politico-cultural existence needs to be examined for the onward march of human civilization. Is it any surprise that a society which spends only 5% of the total amount set aside for research, on social sciences cannot be impressed upon to understand the importance of research in these subjects?

Finally, for the reason that addressing all the issues that continue to plague research in our country needs a platform much bigger, this representation would like to address one final issue that seems to irk many: the duration taken for research. Researchers are being put under the spotlight for taking many years beyond the stipulated time to submit their theses. The argument is that very valuable resources of the country are being spent on 'lazy' scholars who are basking in the privileges granted to them and that such scholars are preventing other deserving people from entering research by taking up the spots. For all those who are unmoved by the above arguments and remain convinced that researchers, who are more or less left to fend for themselves genuinely find it difficult to complete their theses within the allotted time, do so because they are lazy; here are two instances to ponder over.

One: A scholar doing research on a particular tree that is found only in protected forests, has to visit these areas during a specific time of the year in order to collect data for her research. Her research had to be put on hold because of the pandemic induced lockdown. It could not be resumed as soon as the lockdown was lifted not only because of the specific conditions required for her research but also because she needed fresh permission from different authorities. It is only natural her research gets delayed by years. This is not an uncommon situation even when there is no pandemic to take into account.

Two: A researcher is studying climate change by diligently observing lab grown butterflies from a particular area. He has collected some data but before he can put it to use, the butterflies die of an unforeseen infection. The data he has collected suddenly becomes useless and he has to repeat the process. How is one to account for such unforeseen circumstances?

These are but two examples of research getting delayed for reasons beyond the control of researchers. It is the nature of research that it involves circumstances that cannot always be controlled. It is no secret that some of the greatest inventions and studies in human history have been the product of painstaking research that have often lasted a lifetime. While it is unfortunate that formal academic research rarely shows such patience, even more worrying is the recent trend of promoting only those research that can show results with a limited time.

Before concluding this plea for consideration for the plight of researchers, we as a community would like to gently remind the society that research scholars are one of the most vulnerable sections. Among those who committed suicide during the pandemic induced lockdown, a considerable number were research scholars. We have been identified as being more prone to depression than the average person. This is was the case even before NEP 2020 was implemented. Now that it is being implemented, we fear that research in our country faces a very grave situation. The fees in premier institutes like IITs have been hiked indiscriminately. The fact that different state universities have done similarly is not even in the news. Fellowships like the Maulana Azad fellowship for the minorities are being scrapped. Even the few autonomous funding agencies like UGC, AICTE etc. are being replaced by bureaucratic bodies like the NRF that will decide which topics deserve to be funded. We would also like to remind that for every individual who enjoys political patronage and benefits from the existing system, there are a hundred Rohit Vemulas who are victims of a system that barely recognises them. In spite of having to survive in such a system, our research community has turned out some remarkable works over the years. To generalize the efforts and work of all such scholars by pointing out a few examples, and drawing conclusions from the same would be an exercise in futility. It is undoubtedly true that research requires an overhaul, but it has to begin with putting in place a system that offers unreserved support for all researchers without any sort of discrimination. However, it remains a question whether the political class desires such a change. Therefore, all hopes rest on the civil society.

Akil Murali

Research Scholar

Dr. Hermann Gundert Central Library

Kannur University, Kannur

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akilsposts · 2 years ago

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The Unnamed

It was the second last compartment in the train. The moment we got on I wished we had chosen some other bogie. They were always noisy and unkempt, and it had seemed like they had occupied the whole compartment. The little girl in the photo came up to me and held out her hand, flicked it twice in that universal sign we understand as begging, and then pointed to her mouth. We found a coupe occupied by 'normal' people. It wasn't to be a long journey. My daughter was curious about all the noise coming from the other coupe.

"Who is that making all the noise?", she asked me.

"It is a chechi", I replied.

I was apprehensive that she would want a closer look at the source of all the noise. My fears came true when the little girl came and stood next to us, prompting my daughter to go up to her and smile. In the wink of an eye, they were playing, and dancing, and hugging. They were soon joined in their games by an older girl. They took my daughter to meet their family. She came back running, the excitement evident on her face.

"There's a baby there. A wee, little one. Come and see!" She pulled me by my hand and took me along to see a small baby nestled in his mother's lap. The mother beckoned my daughter closer to watch the baby as he lay there wide-eyed.

The games continued as I sat there with conflicting thoughts. I thought about all the infections they carried, of all the illnesses my daughter could contract, of TB and such. Yet, I also saw the sheer joy in their interactions and how it was untainted by deeds or thoughts.

I also thought about how I, with all my thoughts about equality and love, couldn't have ever behaved like my daughter. No. It had taken a child's purity of thought and irreverance for society's prejudices to break through a barrier. She led me, briefly, into a world which I couldn't or wouldn't have walked into alone. I recognise the lessons I need to unlearn, unsure whether I can. If I can unlearn those lessons I can stand by a new generation which will surely rise beyond our prejudices. If not, I hope not to be a dead weight and stand in their path as they forge new worlds. I'm sure they'll rally along enough of those who can see some glimmer of hope, like the young man who sat next to us and watched all proceedings with some wonder. In their surge, they'll learn the names of those we won't name. The little girl is named Suguna.

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akilsposts · 4 years ago

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As a teenager I was curious about my ancestors. I guess it owed much to the time spent watching Discovery and Nat Geo. But the trouble was no one seemed to come to a consensus. While everyone agreed that all humans came out of Africa, none were too sure how we got to be so varied. Fast forward a few years, I was convinced that we were all migrants but still had no clue as to our ancestry. Then, I realised that I wasn't the only one so interested in ancestry. In fact there were others who were downright obsessed. They seemed to be (and still are) very concerned with claiming Aryans for their grandparents (like some guys were circa WWII). Throw any number of evidence at them, they'll still tell you that blue Aryan blood is all that flows through their shorts - clad loins (upgraded to ankle length trousers since). They laughed at archaeological evidences and stuck out their tongues at any linguistic correlations. I guess people do like feeling special about their stock because these guys have increased their numbers. Now, they've taken up their narrative a notch higher by claiming that India sent out all the rest of the people to inhabit the world. How's that for a superiority complex?! Well, to cut the story short. I've been answered. This book by Tony Joseph (many thanks to him) has told me where my ancestors came from (I have Iranian blood like I long suspected). Using our DNA. This book has also answered those erstwhile shorts - wearers. But only if they care to listen (No, they won't). To all others, if you want to know where you came from. This is the book for you. Cheers! #earlyindians #india #indians #history #ancestry #ancestor #aryans https://www.instagram.com/p/CPQOn2ojb7eAatZB-rpcMQBlCTplxb-Sr70b4M0/?utm_medium=tumblr

#earlyindians #india #indians #history #ancestry #ancestor #aryans

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akilsposts · 5 years ago

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Some people want sports to be sanitised: free of politics, culture, race or other aspects of our social life. They want us to believe in an image of an athlete competing to the best of his abilities but by leaving behind all his social existence. But history tells us that some of the most beautiful moments in sports are when it embraces politics and acknowledges the social existence of the athlete. “He paid the price with his choice,” explained Tommie Smith, “It wasn’t just a simple gesture to help us, it was HIS fight. He was a white man, a white Australian man among two men of color, standing up in the moment of victory, all in the name of the same thing”. #Olympics_1968 #Black_Power #Peter_Norman

https://m.thewire.in/article/culture/peter-norman-the-white-man-in-that-photo https://www.instagram.com/p/CBd3nHhjsMcwNxlseR0J3t5E-4kox7UDSaOTIA0/?igshid=hmbv3npsjmfo

#olympics_1968 #black_power #peter_norman

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akilsposts · 5 years ago

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CHAINS.

-Akil Murali. (Courtesy some very good editing by Nikhila Murali)

27.08.2012

***

I was shown a door in the distance.

"Beyond lies Paradise, at your behest.

You shall fly; soar you shall

Not like the wind, not like the bird,

But as yourself, as none but yourself.

Molten fetters,chains, lose them you shall."

I winced. Is it much farther?

I dreamt myself a Paradise.

I gave myself wings and I soared.

The clouds I didn't care for, higher I soared.

I roared and I called, more of my kind I drew.

My verses paved the way, incited them aboard.

And battles we led.

"But perils lurk around and ahead.

Your frail frame and supple mind disadvantage you.

The promised land shall be yours.

But in the meantime, let me protect you, Daughter.."

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akilsposts · 5 years ago

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Man Vs Wild

Realities

Reality I

High in the hills of Idukki and Wayanad, adjoining the lush forests that grow in the rainy heights of the Western Ghats, one will find innumerable farm lands.* On these farms are cultivated some of the best pepper, cinnamon and cardamom that you can find anywhere in the world. In fact, it is the lure of holding the market of these spices that brought the first European conquerors to the Indian shores. To this day, the spices grown in these farms find their use in well – stocked kitchens in India and abroad. The connoisseurs of fine food will vouch for the spices that make their dishes extremely palatable. Once, only the kings and the nobility had access to these spices. Modernity has taken them off their pedestals. The spices, albeit low on quality, are readily available in the neighbourhood shops. Video streaming platforms like You Tube have brought the most distant of cuisines right into the kitchens of those with the means. This has meant that these spices have become a necessity where it was once a luxury.

(*This is the case in all the districts with forest cover)

****************************

Reality II

Mohanakumar, S. & Sharma, R.. (2006). Analysis of Farmer Suicides in Kerala. Economic and Political Weekly. 41. 1553-1558. 10.2307/4418114.

Abstract:

The agrarian crisis and farmers' distress in Kerala are closely linked to the neoliberal policy regime implemented in the country in the recent past. The association between the two is more in the regions of the state that are heavily dependent on export-oriented crops such as coffee and pepper. The worst affected are the small farmers, as they are more vulnerable to crop losses and price declines. Unless the plight of farmers is addressed in terms of changing the macro-policies regulating taxes, prices and imports, the condition of the farmers cannot be improved on a sustainable basis, either by increasing the availability of institutional credit or providing some alleviatory sops to the victims of suicide families.

*****************************

Reality III

https://www.thehindu.com/news/national/kerala/the-wild-ones-at-the-doorstep/article29121586.ece *****************************

The three narratives given above are three stark realities in the context of Kerala. To throw ones’s weight behind a particular narrative without weighing all the aspects of the situation will only lead us to formulate opinions that are narrow and unfocused.

It only takes a casual examination to understand that the only common aspect/ factor/ power in all three realities is the almighty force that is the Capitalist Market. It is the Market that forces a farmer to grow a particular crop. The vagaries of the same Market decides the price of that crop. The farmer will then have to protect that crop at all costs (or pay with his life). Anything that threatens his crops are in reality threats to the lives of his family. Since telling the animals to stay away from his crops are out of question, he has evolved other methods. These methods are cruel but the less deadly deterrents are invariably more expensive. So are all the legal methods available.

Yes, it is human interventions that bring the animals out of their habitats in the first place. But the fault for those does not lie with the small – medium farmers. Large quarries have disrupted the forest ecology so much that nothing is the same it was – not for the animals or for the humans. But do we see any actions on the part of the one power that can put an end to all these mindless exploitation – the government? Not in this capitalist system. The government has, in fact given permissions for even more quarries! Profit at the expense of the very resources that sustain us has become the mantra for capitalism as it seeks to wring out the last bit of dollar from everything within its grasp. It does not see Human, Animal or Nature!

As long as people have to live with the threat to their very sustenance it will not always be possible for them to see merit in concepts like ‘animal rights.’ As long as governments give free reign to those lobbies which are bent on exploiting forest resources, the animals and their habitats will be increasingly endangered.

And all of these are not possible in a society which is based on the principle of profit. Instead it should be a society that sees Human beings, Animals and Nature as just that and nothing more or less.

To cut things very short, ‘animal rights’ can only be realised in a world where human rights has been established.

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akilsposts · 7 years ago

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The Vendor of Dreams

"There he sat on his throne, the proverbial vendor of dreams. The little girl trudged up to him and held out her hand. He looked down wistfully and murmured, 'I've none left me’ self."

The Marine Drive was a blur of activity. Like all places where leisure meets livelihood, it was a study in contrast. The crimson rays of the setting sun and it's dazzling reflection on the lazy waves were a bait laid to lure. Many fell for it. They cuddled in the splendour that nature often lulls us into; a few flittering moments of bliss that nudges poetry. I was there too, mulling on my daily dose of this laziness. No, I don't come here for poetry. I come here for the stories. And there are plenty to pass around.

He sat on the green benches that the Corporation had lined across the waterfront. Her arm was wrapped around his shoulders. "Aren't we lucky?", she nudged his shoulder. He smiled lazily at her words. "You know, we should sail the seas some day", she continued. "There is a ship that sails for Lakshadweep every week." She spoke as if she had it all planned out. That lazy smile played across his lips before it stretched into a full smile, playful and full of mirth. "You do realize we'll never have that kind of money, don't you”, he seemed to be reminding. She looked at him undeterred. She held out her palms in the shape of a plane taking off, slowly stretched it, and said, "What's the harm in dreaming? You never know, one day we might sail further still." He nodded vigorously as she held him closer, as they both gazed at the setting sun. The Boy and the Girl.

The little girl was everywhere. She skipped around the swarm of legs and disappeared among them. Then she'd emerge close to the green benches, pick up the small branch that the short, sprawling flower tree had shed and then rush back to her mother. The long, dirty vest she wore hung below her knees. Occasionally, she'd poke her fingers in the little holes on her vest and even stuck flowers in them! Her hair was almost yellow and it hung at all angles around her face, which itself was the most radiant thing around except for the setting sun. Sometimes she'd circle her mother and lean on her shoulders, talking to imaginary friends. Her mother was more interested in calling attention to the differently coloured beads laid out in front of her. The occasional swats from the mother did little to discourage the yellow - haired little girl from pestering her. Occasionally, she even held out her hands to the passers by, not really bothered when they walked past barely noticing her.

Even among the notes of the wooden flute and the calls of different boat men his voice was distinct. He sold little confections of a few standard flavors. "Ginger mittayi, Orange mittayi, Mango mittayi", his voice rang out long before one got a glimpse of him. As he emerged among the crowd, one could see the aluminium tray held out in front of him holding brightly coloured sweet meats in little plastic packets. He approached all the green benches and the flower trees. Some packets found buyers while most remained in their aluminium vessel. His presence was akin to a stone dropped into the calm silence of a pond. People were jerked out of their reveries. Most politely nodded him away while a few souls were irritated at his breach of their very private laze. He was only part of the topography for most.

Yet, his voice and more so his wares had stirred the longing of an individual being. The yellow - haired little girl in the dirty vest was a bundle of excitement as the vendor of her dreams called out his wares. One little step at time, then a rush of little feet. She had set into motion a series of events that would entwine three different worlds for a few moments. The vendor was politely sent on his way by a shake of the Boy's head, and had then moved to a family of two children seated on the closest green bench when a little arm arising from a dirty vest was held out to him. The upturned face was nodding vigorously, trying to goad him into handing over a treasure. His face a picture of disdain, he shook his hand at the girl, a gesture indicating that money rather than dirty little hands held the key to his heart and the brightly coloured packets. The little feet did not tarry as she rushed to her mother and animatedly pointed to the vendor. Her mother, as irritated as the vendor landed a swat on her daughter who was nevertheless undaunted. Finally, a coin was handed over and the little feet had rushed back. She held out her hand in which sat a two rupees coin. The vendor took one look at the coin and smiling derisively, raised both his hands and his outstretched ten fingers. This time, the little girl didn't rush back. She stood there and raised a single finger, holding out her coin with the other hand. The vendor shook his head, waved his hands and bent to lift the tray he had rested on a bench when the little girl turned to the watching Boy and tugged at the ends of his shirt and boldly asked, "Buy me one". The Boy who had turned ashen, put his hand into his pocket and quietly handed over the ten rupees note to the vendor who pocketed it and held out his tray to the little girl. She chose a bright orange packet, held it with her little hand and skipped away to her mother. The Girl looked at the vendor, her eyes gleaming, she chided "Couldn't you've given one?" The vendor looked aghast as his breath caught in his throat. Only the words "My family..." were audible as his voice quivered. He almost rushed away as if ashamed to show the world his tears. The Boy, sat there, tears streaming down his face. He looked at the girl and mumbled, "What a world...". She held her arms around him and pulled him into an even stronger embrace and whispered, "It's alright." They held each other looking into the sunset.

*****

I slowly stood from my omniscient position and smiled at the sun which had all but vanished. The publisher will like this. This could keep me fed and watered at least a week. Though, I'll have to write it down quickly before someone beats me to it because, you see there are too many stories to pass around.

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